#he's the /protector/ after all. he's not supposed to lay a hand on his family

[wyverwithy]

leo may feel guilt for the events of the movie, but he’s also incredibly resilient and has his family to fall back on. they would do everything within their power to support him and give him the encouragement he needs, even when not asking for it.

but you know who would feel immense guilt and it isn’t even touched on? raph

[crescent-blades]

[Continued: @sunsblaze]

As a child, ever since Mikatsu found out that his younger twin never got proper food and that he was given old, worn-out clothes, a sense of empathy pity washed over him. It was then he had just found out how truly different their lives were—when he'd share some of his own food in secret, how he'd often sneak away with him to the well to wash his face and comb his hair. He even offered his own toys for Yoriichi to play with. He remembers how his father used to scold him and slap him whenever he'd do so, lecturing him not to pamper him. But still, he'd evaded his father's eyes and continued to take care of his younger twin.

Once, he even crafted a small flute during his leisure time and gifted it to Yoriichi. 

"Here, blow this whenever you need help." 

  "Big brother will come right away."    

He had vowed to be his guardian—his protector. He had promised to always look after him and shield him from any danger that dared to approach. And as his elder, it was not just a promise; it was his duty.

 But ever since the mute and deaf boy had uttered those words—that instant, he had bested his mentor with an effortless skill—a dark tide of resentment began to rise within him, threatening to consume the bond they once shared.

 It was still nighttime, and although Michikatsu was supposed to be deep asleep, he found himself wide awake. He could not sleep; everything he had worked for for years. All his years of dedication pressed heavily upon him, for everything he had strived for since childhood all lay in ruins. His younger twin had, with such ease that felt almost mocking, bested their mentor—an opponent who had always been a challenge to even lay a single hit on.   

The haunting words his brother had spoken echoed in his mind, graphic descriptions of their mentor's insides.. the habit Yoriichi had always had of lurking behind trees—everything kept replaying in his mind over and over. How, after so much hard work, he was abruptly going to be sent away to a nearby temple. He was expected to abandon everything, all because of Yoriichi, who didn't even seem to care about him. Who in fact looked down on him. It made him feel upset, uneasy.. betrayed..    

 "Big brother"   

The door creaked open, and he heard his younger brother's voice calling out to him, a shadowy figure framed in the doorway. He shook off the haze of his thoughts and got up quickly.    

 "Mother has died.."   

He had announced her death so suddenly. It was all so shocking, as their mother had been perfectly fine the night before; she had no illness, nothing. When he pressed for details, the younger twin refused to elaborate and merely smiled. He had not once smiled before, but for the first time, after announcing his mother's death, it had brought a smile to his face.     

The very moment he'd take out the flute that the elder had once handed out of pity. It was poorly carved, out of tune—worthless as he'd compare it to him.. holding it close, as if it were some kind of treasure.. as he'd suddenly depart as well, without uttering another word.  

"I'll think of this flute you gave me as you."    

It was all.. too disturbing..     

Another memory would become etched in his subconscious, feeling confused and unsettled by his behaviour as he once again attempted to suppress all these ugly emotions. He did not know where Yoriichi would run away to, especially right after their mother's sudden passing. In fact, at first he even entertained the troubling thought that Yoriichi could be connected to their mother’s demise.   

But he tried to bury these feelings. After all, Yoriichi was just his younger brother. And he was the elder; he was more mature. If Yoriichi had found something that he was talented in, then he should at least strive to feel happy for him. It would be unjust to harbor resentment towards his brother for such matters. 

It was his responsibility to take care of him, to take care of the family, even if it meant that he was eventually going to be sent away. He was the elder, and if it meant making a sacrifice for his clan, then so be it. It was his duty—   

-—That diary.. His mother's illness—how come nobody knew of it? Her illness was affecting her left side—the very side where Yoriichi had held her close, quietly attending to her needs. No.. Yoriichi had been aware all along.       

Michikatsu had failed..

He had failed in everything, since childhood; he had failed. From his strength to his responsibilities as an elder, everything..   

And sure, Yoriichi may have fled, but his family had previously intended to secure the household under his name. His departure did not alter the reality that he remained their legitimate heir. There was nothing more humiliating than this.   

Yet, what stung the most was that...  

Yoriichi had abandoned him aswell, forcing him to endure the pain alone, leaving him to grapple with humiliation for the remainder of his days..   

That was the moment when that deep-seated feeling of resentment that had been simmering within him finally erupted.     

He had wished nothing more than Yoriichi's demise. 

He just wanted him to die.   

Days had passed until Yoriichi's disappearance, and he had desperately wished to erase his brother from his thoughts. Yet still, for some reason, his mind clung to every fragment of his existence, trying to decipher every little detail of his younger brother. His dreams, nightmares, and Yoriichi appeared in every corner of his subconscious. How annoying it was.    

 Ever since he overheard the announcement of his twin's abrupt disappearance, a strange sense of relief washed over him. He had long harbored a dark wish for his younger brother's demise—how he'd hope that he just fell off a treacherous cliff. How he'd wish that he got attacked by a bear, ending his life. Even though he had promised to protect him, even though he had promised that hed always look after him no matter what—  

 Still, a part of him still yearned for his brother's demise.      

Life unfolded just as he had envisioned it. He had achieved everything he ever wanted. While life had settled into a peaceful rhythm, it also became somewhat monotonous, the minutes dragging on as the hours stretched endlessly, each day mirroring the last, so much so that he'd let time go past him except for the occasional wars he'd go to—conflicts that had become routine. He was a formidable warrior, a figure whose prowess was both respected and feared, drawing the attention of many lords who wished for his head. Though such threats seemed trivial, every adversary appeared to be an easy challenge in his eyes.     

It was just another day. The sun rose over the rugged peaks, casting a golden hue on the weary soldiers as they resumed their march through the mountains, just after having a small break. They were ordered to confront a distant tribe that had once allied with their foes. They were ordered to fight them, kill them all, and return with the head of their leader as a grim trophy for their lord. Once the task was completed, the soldiers would gather for a hearty feast and some drinks alongside the general, allowing themselves a moment of enjoyment only for the same days to repeat over and over—

—until.. those days never came back..    

Neither of them ever returned home.     

For Yoriichi had stolen Michikatsu's peace once more..       

That day, no one made it back to their homes. An unexpected ambush had caught them off guard. A heavy thud echoed through the air as they'd look behind only to be met with the horrifying sight of a fallen comrade, lifeless and sprawled on the ground, a fatal wound marking his chest.  

In a matter of seconds, from one to many, as all of Michikatsu's subordinates would fall to the ground, unable to mount even a single counterattack towards the enemy. Even Michikatsu himself, renowned for his unmatched strength and vast experience, found himself at a loss. A swift cut aimed at the creature's arms had inexplicably healed itself before his very eyes. No, this wasn't any tribesman.. This was a monster.   

It's speed and sheer strength were unparalelled even for a warrior of his caliber. No matter how many slashes or cuts he'd make, nothing seemed to matter. In a swift, brutal motion, the beast severed his sword, rendering him utterly useless. A stumble backward, his back hitting the rough bark of a tree, realising there was no escape from this impending doom. Acceptance washed over him; he was ready to meet his end. In those final moments, he counted his breaths, finding a fragile comfort in the rhythm as he awaited the monster's strike—  

—But... nothing happened.    

Uncertain, he slowly opened his eyes and gazed upward to assess the situation. Had the creature escaped, or had it simply chosen to retreat? Perhaps this was a divine intervention, he mused. However, as he took in the scene before him, the sight that met his eyes left him utterly shaken—before him stood another beast, one that instilled an even deeper dread within him—   

His brother.     

That was the moment when his once serene and peaceful life would take a twisted turn. The once little boy he knew as Yoriichi had turned into a man entirely foreign to him. The young boy he once had promised to protect as a child would have grown to be the one who would have to protect him instead...     

Time and time again, Yoriichi would always steal his place, effortlessly stepping into the role of the responsible elder. He was the one who cared for their ailing mother, the one their father envisioned as the rightful heir to their clan—and now he had to protect him as well?     

No.. Michikatsu didn't need his protection. Meeting his end at the hands of a formidable and unmatched adversary would be a far more honorable fate. Being saved from someone like him—living with the shame of being overshadowed by a younger sibling—it was something far more humiliating.       

Yoriichi should have recognised his position as the younger. Michikatsu was the one who was supposed to ail his ill mother; he was the one who should have been stronger—

he was the one who should be protecting his brother.

Time and time again, Yoriichi would always disrupt the hierarchy.   

For he was a constant reminder of his own inadequacies... No matter the situation, Yoriichi always emerged as the superior one. And for some reason, he had always been the one to mock him as well. This sense of betrayal jealousy gnawed at him. Why, why Yoriichi?         

All he desired was for him to be gone forever.     

He just wanted him to die.                        

Once again, their lives appeared to unfold in a familiar manner. It brought back memories of that fateful day when Yoriichi had rescued him from the clutches of a demon, yet now it felt as though the roles had shifted entirely.     

The elder held him in his arms, tender, as he'd watch his younger sibling's health deteriorate, struggling to breathe and struggling to stand as his legs would start failing him, yet he continued to hold him, instead letting him fall on him for support. It was a sight that had saddened the demon yet also provided him a sense of.. peace..

It was just like he had always imagined—it was always supposed to be this way. He was finally stronger than his younger brother. This was exactly what he had wished for ever since he was young. Witnessing Yoriichi's struggle for life admittedly stirred upsetting emotions within him, though quickly he had learnt to accept it. Besides, he had always wished for his brother's demise, ever since he was a child..

"How.. unfortunate.."

He had already anticipated this moment would occur. The moment he laid his six eyes on Yoriichi, he knew that his time was over. He knew that it wouldn't be long before Yoriichi's health would start deteriorating. He knew all this, as now he too could see the same world as he did.

He could tell, by the erratic rhythm of his brother's heartbeat, the slowing down of the circulation of his blood, that his vital organs were using up less oxygen than they needed. Most telling of all was the paleness that had settled upon his skin.

"I regret the loss.."

He honestly didn't even bother to fight him; he never planned to. It was all pointless anyway; Yoriichi wasn't in his prime anymore. Though if he did even make the slightest movement on drawing the blade, then he would kill him. In fact, he almost welcomed the possibility. He may be.. gentle in person, but he had always known his brother as a ruthless warrior. 

So those tears that he started shedding had honestly taken him aback. It had made him feel uneasy, upset, heartbroken.. A warm embrace as he'd give it his all to break free from those mental shackles just to envelop his brother into a warm embrace.. only for those feelings to slowly start fading away once more.. and all that remained was a lingering sense of pity for his brother.  

-—-A tug of his sleeve, as his brother would struggle to remain conscious.

It was true that Yoriichi had moved something within him. Only a set of his eyes would weep, and the rest would remain impassive. But it was a reality he had come to accept, and he knew-—

-—That Yoriichi was approaching the end of his life.

There was no value in indulging in trivial emotional displays, as he'd only pat his brother on the back. That was all that he would offer.

“Michi-” his voice would be cut by a gasping, pained breath, tugging his elder brother's sleeve as if he were trying his best to hold on to life. He could tell that he was trying to say something, but his voice—no, his breath failed him.

"I.. can see your health is deteriorating.."

His voice was low, rather melancholic, yet there was an air of indifference about him. Slowly massaging the old man's back, not letting him sit down despite his legs straining and failing him, Kokushibo would continue to hold him in place as he continued observing him, struggling to hold on to life.

"Your legacy.. shall be continued.. this—"

He moved deliberately towards Yoriichi's katana, his index finger gliding gently along the underside of the handle, tracing a path. When his fingers finally brushed against the tsuba, he grasped it lightly, giving it a slight tug

"-tsuba.. I shall keep.. in your rememberance.."

—just as Yoriichi had done moments before fleeing after their mother's passing

..was he.. mocking him..? 

Kokushibo looked at the younger, his face stoic, though a hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes. He then patted his brother's back slowly, drawing out his sword and loosening his grip on him, beginning to walk away. 

—abandoning him, forcing him to endure the pain alone. 

.

But then suddenly he sensed an object brush against his leg— 

-— a poorly crafted flute.

as his eyes would widen, a surge of ache filling his heart—no, it can't be... it couldn't possibly be—

"..You kept this..-

With a slight tremble in his hands, he bent down to retrieve it. As he'd slowly pick it up, memories from his youth flooded back:

"Here, blow this whenever you need help."

"Big brother will come right away."

"Why.. Yoriichi..?-"

As hed turn around four of his eyes brimming with tears.. and look at his brother once more, now all worn out and beaten, his body failing him as hed struggle to hold on to life.. the weight of the realisation finally started weighing on him as he realised what this situation has come to.

His baby brother.. was dying.

"Yoriichi--"

As he'd slowly walk over to him once more.. walking over to him, sinking to his knees beside him. Tears brimmed in his eyes, spilling over as he enveloped his brother in a tight embrace once more, letting his head rest on his chest, as he finally let his tears flow freely. 

No.. no-- 

What has he done.. What was he thinking..?

Oh, how foolish he was—how cruel he was—that he was fine just standing by, wishing and watching his own blood suffer..? What kind of monster has he become..

Chasing after power, he had abandoned everything and everyone.. so much power, and yet he couldn't even protect his own brother as he promised.

— He had failed once more.

"Brother, I am sorry.. I am sorry for everything.."

Feelings of guilt and sadness started filling his heart as he'd embrace his younger brother tightly, tears streaming down his face. Why did he make such choices? Did he really abandon his humanity, his family, and betray his brother for the sake of.. what? 

No.. All he wanted was to be like his younger twin.

All he wanted was to protect him.

"I am sorry.. I couldn't protect you as I promised..--"

He'd tremble, gritting his teeth as he'd pour his heart out. It was almost ironic; just moments earlier, he had been prepared to abandon Yoriichi and let him face death alone. A mere flute had shattered the remnants of his demonic nature, awakening the humanity within him as he reflected on how far he had fallen. 

The despair he had experienced as a human, which had lingered for over sixty years ago, surged back with a vengeance—the overwhelming sense of impending doom and hopelessness. Knowing that there was no way out, the feeling of deaths looming clutches just behind you. Knowing that it wasn't the time yet, it couldn't be. There was still much more to everything; there was still so much to experience. Yet, in the darkest hours, it seemed as though the gods had always seemed to turn their backs on you...

There was no escape to this.. absolutely none, and all you could do was wait until death would come and—wait..

..he was mistaken--

There was another way.. 

"Here... You should... accept my blood..." 

He was determined to set everything right

No.. Yoriichi. This time—

"I will not let you die.."

[rue-dixon]

Chilchuck's wife comforts their daughters from having nightmares

"Mama can you leave the candle lit just for a little longer..." Flertom's voice was small was squeaky. Her tiny hands grabbing and twisting the quilt that lay over the three young girls' laps. Meijack and Puckpatti sat on either side of her.

Puckpatti nodded, "yeah.. I don't like when it's dark."

Their mother titled her head, sitting on the stool next to the bed.

"Why not?" She asked softly.

"Because the shadows give me bad dreams." Puckpatti puffed her cheeks out. Flertom agreeing with her.

"You're almost five and you're still getting nightmares?" Meijack picked at Flertom.

"You get them too!" Flertom immediately called her out, shoving her shoulder.

Their mother sighed, lifting a hand to silently signal them to quit it before it got out of hand. All three girls immediately shut their mouths and sat back in their original spots.

"All of you are having nightmares?"

The three girls nodded in unison.

"Why haven't you gotten me? Or told me or your father?"

They look down at the blanket. Pulling the edges as they avoided their mother's gaze.

"It's embarrassing..." Meijack mumbled.

"Embarrassing?"

"Yeah.. we're getting older and we still get scared by daddy's stories." Flertom frowned.

Their mother pressed her lips together. Her eyes darting to the side for a moment before taking a breath, looking back at her daughters, each with tiny frowns on their little faces.

"You girls shouldn't be embarrassed. Even adults struggle with bad dreams."

"Really?" The three asked in unison.

Their mother nodded, "yes, in fact your father has them all the time." She hummed sadly, muttering a 'poor thing.' Under her breath.

"What?!" Puckpatti gasped, a little too loud for the atmosphere.

Flertom and Meijack also stared at their mother with wide eyes. Their father had nightmares? Really?? It almost seemed unbelievable. Dads weren't suppose to be scared and have silly things like bad dreams. They're suppose to be strong and protectors of the family.

"Does he have them about scary monsters too..?" Flertom asked.

"I'm not sure. He doesn't speak of them much. But from what I do know, it sounds like they're normally about you girls."

"Us?" Meijack titled her head.

"Mhm" her mother nodded. "Something happening to you girls is your father's biggest fear."

"Doesn't he worry about bad things happening to you too, mama?" Flertom asked.

"Well I'm sure he does. But all parents worry about their children more than their spouse, it's just natural."

The three girls were silent a moment. Seemingly taking in all this new information. Until Puckpatti spoke up once again.

"So nightmares are normal then..?"

"Very. Having bad dreams doesn't make you childish. I know they're scary, but it's important to remember that they're just dreams and can't hurt you."

"What does daddy do when he gets bad dreams?"

"Well, normally he reads to calm himself before going back to bed."

"Can we do that?"

Their mother chuckled, "sure, sweetheart. Just as long as you promise to try and sleep after and be very careful not to wake your sisters."

"We promise!" They chirped together.

Their mother smiled gently. "Good." Before leaning forward and kissing them each on the head.

"Now, get some sleep. The faster you sleep the faster you're one day closer to when daddy gets home."

The three girls giggled as they all laid down cuddling into bed. Each feeling a sense of comfort knowing that they weren't alone with being scared by bad dreams. They even let their mother blow out the candle before closing the door behind them. None of them knew it at the time, but unlike their father they would eventually grow out of having bad dreams. As adults all of them rarely having any form of nightmares, when they did they were mostly stress dreams. Even Meijack, who was most like her father and had more anxiety problems than most people, didn't have much. No doubt their father's were due to his job, among other things he's experienced in life. Not that he ever talked about any of that, the only reason his wife knew about his dreams was because it would wake her up many nights. Part of her felt guilty for telling the girls, Chilchuck would be upset if he knew. However he never found out, his wife never mentioned it and his girls knew better than to bring up the things their mother shared with them about their father.

[evita-shelby]

They didn't know we were seeds

Chapter 7

Cw: infidelity, mentions of incest, sex trafficking

@emotionalcadaver @justrainandcoffee @peakyswritings @call-sign-shark

They are in the Justice Hall in his district, laughing and sneaking around like real lovers. They hide in an attic, disheveled and spent as they lay together in a dirty rug. Done in secret because they could die if Changretta knew.

Snow didn’t give a shit what went on as long as it didn’t bring any disruptions in his government. Two victors fucking provided good gossip in the Capitol and at most ideas in those who solicited sex from them, no one in the districts cared about that when they are busy trying to survive.

They began as allies and now they were friends and something a little more than just that. It was just comfort in having sex because you want to with someone who you can be yourself with. Eva was the only one Jack felt truly comfortable being this vulnerable with even if he was pretty adept at the whole sex without feelings shit too.

Despite what she did, Jack cannot help himself like her. He supposed it was because no one could truly understand what he was going through unless they were stuck in the same hell as him.

“I hate her you know, Tigris.” She says when he brings up her winning strategy. “Said it was the strategy the first District 12 victor used to win.”

They hardly talk about Laurie, or the Capitol or anything relating to the games. But he’d noticed her penchant of wearing black ---her new favorite color--- and asked about her former stylist who’s faded into obscurity as a fur underwear designer.

“You hate her because it worked.” He holds her hand as if it wasn’t his brother who died because of it and for her sake doesn’t continue this conversation. “I suppose if Lucy Gray could fall for her mentor and he for her, two tributes could do the same.”

“I didn’t know that; it was back when mentors were Capitol students wasn’t it?” Eva asks and turns to her side with her undivided attention.

“Lucy Gray won because Coriolanus Snow fell in love with her.” Jack then begins a tale so strange she has to wonder if he drank more than he should have at dinner.

The President was Tigris cousin, they were poor, he was Lucy Gray’s mentor at the tenth games, he was best friends with Sejanus Plinth who hailed from 2 from the exact village Jack’s family is from. Lucy Gray had a rainbow dress just like hers and Snow a suit just like Dustin’s at the interview when they won. Snow was made a Peacekeeper as punishment while all records of the games were destroyed because the Head Gamemaker caught him cheating.

Only no one expected for Servilla Plinth to tell her little sister in her encrypted letters home and for said sister to tell her grandson when he confided in her about his plan to kill Eva after the president’s visit.

Snow and Sejanus were stationed in 12th where the latter was tried for treason and Lucy Gray murdered by the Mayor when Snow was pardoned and returned to the Capitol. Snow didn’t want anyone to even remind him of that nor the possibility that he killed his best friend.

It explains why Snow wanted Eva dead, come to think of it. Tigris had reminded him of how he got there, something only people ashamed of their past hated.

And now he shares that secret with her in this dank attic where only the rats and insects can hear and see them.

She is not angry at him for agreeing to kill her, said she would’ve done the same for her brothers and then kissed him like she loved him. Like she kissed Laurie before her failed murder-suicide.

“We should go, they’ll be looking for us.” He says before things spiral out of control.

Eva returns to the Capitol to find her protector dead.

In his place stands the leader of the Peaky Blinders, Thomas Shelby.

Unlike Luca he did not stick to the business world for his cover, Tommy Shelby had bought himself a minor post in the government along with a wife who knew all the right people.

Eva found her grating, like nails on a chalkboard. Her ignorance could be forgiven, but there was just something about Grace Burgess that she just flat out disliked. Maybe her phoniness put her off.

“I do not suppose you will be taking up the arrangement your predecessor and I had before you did away with him?” the victor has no idea what to expect from him. While it was obvious his marriage was as cold as his eyes, not all men liked the idea of sticking to one mistress. The rumors of him and the secretary were true given her boyfriend was found murdered recently and his wife was also known for having her own secrets.

No one was sure who the son belonged to, both men had identical coloring and high cheekbones.

“He protected you from the rest of them, didn’t he?” Shelby lights a cigarette and does this thing where he rubs it against his lower lip that she finds interesting. Sexy even.

Jack wouldn’t like that, but Jack hates most men around her anyways.

“Yes, for the price of not fucking anyone else, I got everything I wanted and some more.” As far as these arrangements went, hers with Luca was perfect. If they had met in better circumstances, they would’ve made a great couple.

“A good thing he never learned about your affair with Jack Nelson.” His lips hide the smirk very well, but his eyes don’t. Speaks more with those eyes of his than his lips.

“Ah, so it was your work that night?” the security footage hadn’t been given to Luca so no one could prove what happened after Jack tore her diamond collar in the balcony. As far as Luca knew, Jack hated her for killing Laurie and was only nice when people were around. “I should thank you.”

“Thank me after you show me who would benefit most from a protector.” He suggests with contempt for the practice in every word.

“Cashmere, some pay for her and her brother and force them together.” Eva let her venom through. No one was supposed to know as incest was still as illegal as pedophilia, but all victors knew the sort of hell the siblings from 1 got. “Would you like for me to make the introduction, or do you think you can pretend this conversation never happened?”

Snow hated when victors meddled and tried to make it less awful for each other. Inspires rebellion, Luca told her once, if the districts knew we can all work together, Snow would fall from his throne.

That day cannot come soon enough.

“I can handle that, but I do have a favor to ask you.” He drinks his whiskey betraying nothing as he hands her his business card.

“Ask away.” These favors don’t work out for her, it’s how she ended up smuggling contraband for Luca in exchange for keeping her off the roster their first year together. But she finds herself trusting this stranger.

“Arrange a meeting with Gamemaker Heavensbee, your stylist and myself.” He doesn’t mean the current one, he means Tigris Snow.

It won’t be that difficult, Fulvia Cardew was a friend of Clemens and he must know how to reach Tigris. In fact, by the time Matty’s traumatic stress appears during fireworks show later that evening, its already scheduled.

Tommy Shelby doesn’t pay her back with flowers, clothing nor jewels, he pays her for the service with a deed to a small farm on the northern border of her district.

So close she could reach district 2 or even 11 by completely bypassing the guard towers along the border. If the fence wasn’t on, nothing would stop her from going or someone going out.

The question is: why?

[nolcro]

A Contravention of Oaths

The pen lay poised above the blank page in eager anticipation. It would not move, no matter how much the young duskwight holding the weapon urged it forward. The words would not come. After what was witnessed, how could they? 

Nolanel glanced across the campfire towards the paladin, the warrior laying down with the song of sleep issuing forth. He had followed this man out into the Thanalan wastes to chronicle the life of a real paladin. Back in Sharlayan, Nolanel had imagined an oathbound statue solemnly holding back the evils and monsters seeking to feed on the innocent and the weak. A true stalwart defender of the people who would sooner eat their own blade than betray their word. That Nolanel would travel to these lands to learn all he could of oaths and the power they gave to those who swore by them only to find that these sacred ideals were more akin to guidelines than a strict creed.

This man, who had agreed to allow Nolanel to follow him on his journeys to chronicle his life and the tales of a free paladin, was a fraud. The young duskwight reflexively shied away from the accusation before forcing himself to face it. He took a deep breath as he organized his thoughts into the facts.

Fact, the bandits held a merchant and her family at sword-point for the goods in their wagon.

Fact, the paladin strode forth against the bandits, blade and shield in hand.

Fact, the bandits were crushed under foot as the paladin moved through them like a bloody hurricane, as the bystanders watched on in horror.

Fact, the paladin then demanded compensation from the family under threat of his blade.

Just remembering the events had Nolanel’s world shattering all over again. The sadness he felt with the truth of it all turned quickly to anger. A paladin was supposed to be a protector of the meek and innocent, not another thug looking to extort. His pen then stabbed into the page, anger fueling his words as the scratches laid bare the paladin’s violations. Every excuse Nolanel could come up with for the paladin’s actions was quickly thrown to the bloody ground.

There was no excuse for betraying your oaths…was there?

The young duskwight continued to furiously scribe the betrayal he felt long into the night.

[5starluvr]

Prime

Paring: Kim Seungmin x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Warnings: Violence, blood, arguing, mentioned injuries

Wc: 7.5k

A/n:I’m sooo sorry for putting this series on hold.I’ve been really overwhelmed with life and I’m pretty much about to fail two of my courses BUT I’m finally done with all my exams so I’ll hopefully start posting again!

Spider Kids

The rain hammered against the penthouse window, blurring the glittering cityscape of Seoul. Inside, Seungmin, still clad in his battered Spiderman suit, winced as he peeled the clinging fabric from his damp skin. Fatigue gnawed at him, a familiar ache after a night of battling supervillains and rescuing civilians.Across the room, Y/N sat on the plush sofa, her face a mask of worry etched with the faint lines of past arguments. Her normally vibrant eyes were dull with unshed tears. Seungmin knew this look. It was the look that followed every close call, every late-night return.He joined her, the silence between them heavy. He reached for her hand, but she pulled away, her voice tight. "Seungmin, how long can we keep doing this?"Seungmin's heart sank. He knew this conversation was coming, but it never got any easier. "Y/N, we've talked about this. People need me.""And who needs you?" she countered, her voice rising. "Because all I see is a man who walks out the door every night, not knowing if he'll come back!"Seungmin winced. He hated seeing fear in her eyes, fear that was entirely his fault. "I know it's scary, but-""Scary?" she interrupted, her voice cracking. "Seungmin, I can't plan a future with you if I'm not even sure you'll have one! We were supposed to get married, start a family, remember?"The weight of her words settled on him, heavy and suffocating. He longed for that life, a normal life with her by his side. But the city, the people, they were his responsibility. He couldn't turn his back on them."I can't give that up, Y/N. This is who I am.""And who am I?" she whispered, her voice breaking. "Am I just the woman waiting by the window, praying you come home safe?"Seungmin felt a surge of helplessness. There were no easy answers. He wasn't just Seungmin, the man she loved. He was also Spiderman, the city's protector. He couldn't abandon either part of himself."There has to be a way," he pleaded, desperation creeping into his voice. "We can figure this out together."Y/N looked at him, a flicker of hope battling the weariness in her eyes. "Can we, Seungmin? Because right now, all I see is a future filled with fear, and I don't know if I can face that anymore.When do we get our turn at normal?"He felt a pang in his chest. Normal. It was a word that felt increasingly distant, a forgotten dream in the face of his duty as Spider-Man. He reached out, his hand hovering over hers, but she pulled away, a silent rejection."There's no normal for us, is there?" she whispered, a tear tracing a glistening path down her cheek. The vulnerability in her voice cracked the dam within him. He pulled off his mask, the familiar weight a heavy burden tonight."There has to be a way," he pleaded, his voice rough with emotion. "We can figure this out. Together.I promise"Y/N looked at him, her eyes searching his.Defeat gnawed at Seungmin's insides. He knew a solution wouldn't magically appear overnight, but the weight of her words pressed down on him. "Look," he started, his voice thick with emotion, "This is a lot to unpack. Let's just go to bed and think about it tomorrow, yeah?"Y/N nodded, her eyes clouded with a mixture of exhaustion and unshed tears. They climbed into bed, the silence deafening. Seungmin could feel the distance growing between them, a physical manifestation of the emotional  chaos they seemed to be standing on opposite sides of.He layed on his back, staring at the rain-streaked window, his mind a whirlwind. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a soft voice broke the silence."Seungmin," Y/N mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. He turned his head slightly, just enough to see the outline of her form in the dim light. "You know I didn't mean what I said with bad intentions, right?"Seungmin's heart ached. He knew. He knew her frustration stemmed from love, a fear of losing him.  "I know," he replied, his voice equally soft. He reached out a hand, hesitating for a moment before gently placing it on the space between them.

The touch seemed to bridge the invisible gap.  Y/N spoke again, her voice laced with a hint of desperation, "I just… I want a life with you, Seungmin. A normal life, where we can plan for the future without this constant fear hanging over us."He understood. The fear was a constant companion, a shadow that loomed over their every happy moment. Scooting closer, he took her hand in his, the warmth spreading through him. "I want that too, Y/N. More than anything."He pulled her gently towards him, his arms wrapping around her familiar form. The rain continued its relentless assault outside, but here, in the sanctuary of their bed, a fragile hope flickered."Maybe," Y/N murmured, snuggling closer, "maybe there's a way to have both. Maybe there's a way you can be Spider-Man and we can still have some semblance of normal."Seungmin squeezed her tighter. He didn't have all the answers, but the sound of her voice, and the warmth of her body, filled him with a renewed sense of determination.  "Together," he echoed, his voice firm.The next day the city lights bled a pale orange into the pre-dawn sky as Seungmin swung through the through the city, his heart heavy despite the cool air. He landed silently on the rooftop of the discreet skyscraper that housed the Sect Hero base.Inside, the usual morning bustle was fading as  he found three of his teammates around a holographic strategy table, coffee mugs clutched in their hands.Chan was frowning at a projected map while Minho was cleaning his weapon with meticulous care and Han leaning back in his chair, eyes glued to a glowing tablet."Rough night, Spidey?" Han greeted, his voice laced with a knowing smirk.Seungmin sighed, pulling off his mask and running a hand through his already messy hair. "You could say that." He slumped into a nearby chair, recounting the argument with Y/N the night before.Chan listened intently, while his brow furrowed further. Finally, he spoke, "This is serious, Seungmin. Maybe it's time to consider expanding the team. Someone who can cover for you when things get hot."Seungminsoffed. "No. This is my city. I won't be replaced."  His voice held a defensive edge that surprised even himself.Minho, ever direct, snorted. "Being replaced isn't the point, Spider-stuff. It's about having a safety net. We can't have you constantly burning the candle at both ends." His gruff voice softened slightly. "You gotta think about Y/N too, right?"Seungmin knew they were right. But the thought of another ‘Spiderman’ taking care of his city, his responsibility and taking his place, felt like a betrayal. "There's gotta be another way," he muttered, his voice laced with frustration.Han places a hand on his shoulder. "Look, Seungmin, Spiderman," he said, his tone serious, "We get it. You're Spider-Man. You feel this intense responsibility. But you can't be a hero if you're constantly sacrificing your personal life. Maybe it's time to get creative?."Seungmin stared at them, their concerned faces reflected in the holographic map. He knew they were right. He just had to figure out what "creative" meant in this situation"Creative, huh?" Seungmin mumbled, rubbing his temples.  "Any brilliant ideas bouncing around those genius brains of yours, Einstein?" he challenged Han, a hint of teasing returning to his voice despite the weight of the situation.Han snorted. "Actually, yeah. You ever heard of the Hero Academy program? City's been running it for a few years now. Trains rookies with basic hero skills, teaches them the ropes. Maybe one of them could be your..." he air-quoted, "...wingman."Seungmin scoffed. "A rookie? Seriously? How much help would that be against, say, the joker or something?" The very thought of some inexperienced trainee fumbling around during a major villain attack sent a shiver down his spine.Minho chimed in with a raised eyebrow. "Look, Spidey, even a rookie could handle the smaller stuff, the muggings, the petty thefts. Frees you up for the bigger threats.Don't be an idiot, Spider-stuff.”

Han sighed “plus we're not suggesting you throw some newbie against the Demolition Duo. But a rookie could actually help you in the long run dude."Seungmin crossed his arms, a stubborn crease forming between his brows. "Look, I appreciate the concern, guys, I do. But this is my city. I know these streets, these villains, better than anyone. It doesn't feel right letting someone else take over, even for a little bit."Chan chimed in, his voice calm and soothing. "We understand, Seungmin. But maybe there's a middle ground here. Maybe a trainee program within the sect itself? Someone you can mentor and train.”Alright, alright," he conceded, dragging a hand through his hair. "Fine. I'll look into it. But," he added, a glint in his eye, "don't think this means you get out of any training sessions, Einstein."Han playfully swatted his arm. "Hey, I do my part. Besides, who else keeps your fancy web-shooters calibrated?"though their playful banter was cut short by a sudden blare of the alarm system. A holographic map flickered to life, displaying a pulsating red dot over the location of the attack. "Looks like The Magpie's back at it," Chan announced, his voice grim. Seungmin rose, his mask already halfway on panic rising in his chest. "I'll handle it."Minho grunted. "You sure, Spidey? Looks like a big operation. Maybe you should take someone with you, especially considering…" He trailed off, a knowing look in his eyes. Seungmin's gut clenched.He hesitated for a beat, the memory of Y/N's worried face flashing in his mind. The urge to confide in them, to explain the situation, warred with the need to be strong, to prove he could handle things."Nah," he said, forcing a smile. "I-I’ve got this don’t worry”He knew it wasn't the wisest decision.  But right now, the thrill of the chase, the familiar adrenaline rush of being Spider-Man, felt strangely comforting. With a quick nod, he shot out the window, disappearing into the pre-dawn sky. His teammates watched him go, a mix of concern and understanding etched on their faces. They knew Seungmin was stubborn, but they also knew him better than anyone.  They knew the city was his responsibility, his burden to bear. And they knew, deep down, that tonight, that burden felt heavier than ever.The city blurred beneath him as Seungmin swung through the air, a knot of dread tightening in his gut with each passing second. The memory of the pulsating red dot on the holographic map mocked him, leading him straight towards his own apartment building in the heart of the financial district. It was The Joker , alright, but the location of the attack sent a fresh wave of panic crashing over him.He wasn't just worried about stopping the villain anymore. Fear, sharp and cold, gnawed at him. Was Y/N home? Had she woken up to the commotion? Was she safe?  Images of her worried face, her tear-filled eyes from the night before, flashed before his eyes. The guilt of leaving her alone, of not being there, threatened to consume him.He pushed the panic down, focusing on the task at hand. He had to get to her. He had to secure the building before The Magpie could get to any valuables – and most importantly, before he could get to Y/N. Was Y/N home? Had she heard the commotion? The thought of her witnessing a villain attack, let alone being caught in the crossfire, sent a jolt of terror through him.He pushed himself harder, the familiar cityscape morphing into a blur of concern. He could almost hear Y/N's voice, laced with fear, echoing in his head. His guilt gnawed at him. Maybe he shouldn't have brushed off Minho's suggestion of backup. Maybe having someone by his side wouldn't be such a bad idea after all. Especially tonight, when his focus was fractured, his heart a tangled mess.The tension crackled in the air as thick as the morning fog clinging to the city. Seungmin landed with a silent crouch on the fire escape overlooking his apartment building. Every muscle in his body tensed, straining to pick up any sound of a struggle, any sign of The Magpie's thievery.

Silence. An unnatural silence that prickled his nerves. He crept closer, his spider-sense tingling with a strange unease – it wasn't the high-pitched screech that usually warned of The Magpie's nimble fingers. He peeked around the corner, his heart leaping into his throat.There, perched precariously on the ledge of Y/N's open window, was a figure that sent a jolt of confusion straight through him. It wasn't The Magpie's sleek black and white. Instead, a flash of purple fabric caught his eye. A sickeningly wide, painted grin stretched across the face of the figure fiddling with a crowbar – The Joker.Seungmin's breath hitched. The Joker at his apartment building? This wasn't part of the plan. Panic clawed at his throat. Had he gotten the wrong intel? Was Y/N even home? He had to get to her, now.The image of Y/N's worried face from the night before flashed in his mind. The guilt of leaving her alone, facing a villain like The Joker, was a weight he couldn't bear. He pushed the panic down, focusing on the task at hand. He had to secure the building, get The Joker out of there, before he could get anywhere near Y/N.A surge of anger, hotter than any he'd felt facing The Magpie, coursed through him. The Joker was unpredictable, a walking, laughing nightmare.  This wasn't just about stopping a criminal anymore, it was about protecting his city, protecting Y/N.He was about to launch himself into action, a battle cry forming on his lips, when a soft sound stopped him cold. A voice, muffled but unmistakably the Joker, drifted from inside the apartment. He was singing?.  It didn't make sense.  The off-key singing abruptly cut out, replaced by a terrified gasp. Seungmin's heart hammered against his ribs. Y/N! He lunged for the window, his spider-sense screaming a warning he barely registered.A chilling chuckle drifted out, followed by the Joker's voice, dripping with amusement. "Well, well, well, looks like the little songbird decided to join the party!"Seungmin froze mid-leap. Through the window, he saw Y/N pressed against the far wall, her face pale with terror. The Joker, a manic grin plastered on his face, held a wickedly glinting switchblade to her throat. Strapped to the back of her chair, a bomb – a crude mess of wires and a blinking red light – sent a jolt of pure dread through him."Seems like Spidey wasn't the only party crasher, sweetheart," the Joker taunted, his eyes gleaming with malicious delight. "But fear not, this little device strapped to her lovely chair? It's rather…sensitive. One wrong move, one little gasp for air from you, and well…" he trailed off, gesturing dramatically to the window with the switchblade. "This whole building goes up in a glorious fireworks display!.Seungmin landed back on the fire escape, his mind racing. He couldn't move recklessly. One wrong step could spell disaster. "Joker," he said, his voice strained but firm. "Let her go. This isn't about her."The Joker tilted his head, chuckling softly. "Oh, but Spidey, that's where you're wrong. This little game? It's all about you! See, this building? It's crawling with my little surprises, just like this lovely lady's chair. One wrong move from you, and boom! Instant confetti shower for the whole neighborhood!"Seungmin's breath hitched. The entire building? Panic threatened to consume him, but he forced it down. He couldn't let the Joker see his fear. He had to play this smart. "What do you want, Joker?"

The Joker's grin widened. "Ah, the age-old question! Now, where's the fun in just telling you? Let's just say, Spidey, this little game is going to test your webslinging skills to the absolute limit!" The Joker's laughter echoed through the night, a horrifying counterpoint to Y/N's whimpers. Seungmin gritted his teeth. He was trapped. The city, Y/N, it all hung in the balance. He had to find a way out of this, a way to disarm the bombs, a way to save everyone , to save her . But how? He looked at Y/N, her terrified eyes pleading with him. He wouldn't let her down. He wouldn't let the Joker win. "Stay here," he mouthed ,despite the tremor in his hand. He knew fear could cloud judgment, and he needed her clearheaded. "I'll get you out of this."Y/N gripped her chair, her voice barely a whisper.  "Be careful, Seungmin." Then, with a burst of speed fueled by adrenaline, he shot a web at the ceiling and launched himself through the broken window, back out into the morning ky.The city lights bled a pale orange over the rooftops, casting long shadows that danced with the rising smoke from the flour explosion.  Seungmin's spider-sense thrummed a frantic warning, guiding him towards the source of the Joker's distorted voice – the building's central air conditioning unit, a metal Container perched precariously on the roof.As Seungmin neared, a chilling cackle erupted from the vent shaft.  "There you are, Spidey!  Come to join the party?"  The Joker, a grotesque figure dusted white from head to toe, emerged from the vent, a manic glint in his eyes.  In his hand, he clutched a remote detonator, a cruel smile plastered on his face.Seungmin landed with a crouch, his eyes narrowed.  Panic threatened to engulf him, a chilling image of Y/N strapped to the chair flashing in his mind.  He had to act fast, but recklessness wouldn't save the day.  He needed a plan."Let's cut to the chase, Joker," Seungmin said, his voice laced with a steely calm that surprised even himself.  He needed to appear in control, to throw the Joker off his game."Oh, Spidey, so impatient!" The Joker taunted, waving the detonator playfully.  "Let's just say, they're scattered like confetti throughout this lovely building.  One press of this button, and boom! Instant city-wide confetti shower!"

Seungmin knew the Joker thrived on chaos.  He had to take control of the situation.  "Why are you doing this?"  Seungmin demanded, hoping to distract him, to buy himself some time to formulate a plan.

The Joker tilted his head, a chilling seriousness replacing his usual theatricality. "Because, Spidey, sometimes the world needs a good reminder of how fragile it all is. A little chaos to wake the people!"

Seungmin gritted his teeth.  He couldn't reason with the Joker.  He needed to act.  But how?  His eyes darted across the rooftop, searching for anything that might give him an advantage.  A discarded metal pipe glinted in the faint light.  An idea sparked.

With a flick of his wrist, he launched a web at the detonator.  The Joker reacted with lightning speed, swatting the web away with a manic laugh.  This was it. This was his chance.

The fight that ensued was a whirlwind of movement, a deadly ballet high above the sleeping city.  The Joker, despite his age and seemingly flimsy physique, was surprisingly agile.  He dodged Seungmin's web attacks with ease, lunging at him with surprising ferocity.  His long, purple coat flapped wildly.

Seungmin used his spider-sense to his advantage, anticipating the Joker's every move.  He dodged a wild kick, using the momentum to propel himself past the Joker.  He grabbed the discarded metal pipe as he flew by, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

The Joker spun around, a twisted grin on his face.  But before he could react, Seungmin launched himself back at him, wielding the pipe like a bat.  The Joker, caught off guard, barely managed to block the blow with his arm.  The metal clanged, sending a jolt of pain up Seungmin's arm, but he ignored it.

This wasn't just about neutralizing the bombs anymore. It was about revenge for the terror the Joker inflicted on Y/N, for the city he threatened to tear apart.  Each blow of the pipe was fueled by a righteous fury.

The Joker, surprised by the ferocity of Seungmin's attack, stumbled back.  He recovered quickly though, a manic glint returning to his eyes.  With a shrill laugh, he lunged at Seungmin, grappling for the pipe.  They both went tumbling to the ground, A tangle of limbs and grunts, they rolled across the rooftop gravel. Seungmin landed with a harsh thud, the metal pipe clattering away from his grasp. A searing pain lanced through his ankle – a misstep on the uneven surface.  The Joker, fueled by his own twisted sense of amusement, straddled Seungmin's chest, his cackle echoing in the night sky.

"Looks like the spider got caught in his own web, Spidey!" he shrieked, raising a gloved fist.

Seungmin gritted his teeth, the city lights blurring at the edges of his vision. He couldn't give up. Not with Y/N still in danger, not with the fate of the city hanging in the balance.  He focused, pushing past the throbbing pain in his ankle.  With a surge of adrenaline, he bucked his hips, sending the Joker tumbling backwards.

Scrambling to his feet, Seungmin ignored the white-hot stab of pain with every step. He had to disarm the Joker, disarm the bombs.  His spider-sense thrummed with a renewed urgency, guiding him towards the discarded detonator lying precariously close to the edge of the rooftop.

The Joker, regaining his footing, let out a frustrated yell.  He lunged at Seungmin, a switchblade glinting in his hand.  Seungmin barely dodged the swipe, the blade whistling past his ear.  He couldn't afford to get into a close-quarters fight with a weapon like that.  He needed to use his agility to his advantage.

He launched himself into a series of web-slinging maneuvers, zipping across the rooftop, the Joker hot on his heels.  The night air whipped past Seungmin's face as he dodged the Joker's lunges and wild throws of the switchblade.  His injured ankle screamed in protest with every jump and turn, but he pushed on, fueled by a desperate hope.

Suddenly, an idea sparked in his mind.  He shot a web at a nearby water tower, propelling himself upwards.  The Joker skidded to a halt at the edge of the rooftop, his face contorted in rage.  Seungmin hung precariously from the web, dangling just out of reach.

"Come on down, Spidey!" The Joker taunted, his voice echoing across the rooftop. "Let's finish this!"

Seungmin gritted his teeth.  This was it.  He closed his eyes, focusing his spider-sense.  He felt a faint vibration in the air currents, a subtle shift in pressure.  The air vent!  The Joker must have used it to access the rooftop.

With a renewed surge of determination, Seungmin launched himself back towards the building, aiming for the vent cover.  He landed with a thud on the metal grating, the stale air of the ventilation system rushing over him.  He ignored the sting of scraped skin and pushed open the cover, squeezing himself through the narrow opening.

The Joker's surprised yell echoed from above.  Seungmin tumbled down the ventilation shaft, the metal scraping against his already battered body.  He landed hard on the floor of the control room, coughing and gasping for breath.

He looked around, his eyes adjusting to the dim light.  There, in the center of the room, stood a complex web of wires and blinking lights – the central control panel for the building's air conditioning system.  And nestled amongst the wires, a red button – the activation switch for the bombs.

Seungmin knew he had to act fast.  He ignored the throbbing pain in his ankle and scrambled towards the control panel.  But before he could reach it, a chilling laugh filled the room.

The Joker, having squeezed through the vent opening, stood behind him, a twisted grin plastered on his face.  The switchblade glinted menacingly in his hand.  "Well, well, Spidey," he drawled. "Looks like the party's come to you.

The Joker's cackle filled the cramped machinery room, echoing off the metal walls. Seungmin's heart hammered a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He had almost reached the control panel, almost disarmed the bombs. But the Joker, with his manic agility, had outsmarted him again.

"Game over, Spidey!" The Joker shrieked, raising the switchblade high. But instead of lunging at Seungmin, he darted towards the control panel. In a flash of green light, the Joker slammed his gloved hand down on the red button – the activator .

Seungmin's blood ran cold. He had failed. The neighborhood , Y/N… they were all doomed. Despair threatened to engulf him, but a flicker of defiance sparked in his eyes. He wouldn't give up. Not yet.

With a surge of adrenaline that ignored the throbbing pain in his ankle, Seungmin lunged at the Joker. He tackled him to the ground, a desperate gamble to buy some precious seconds. They grappled amongst the wires and flickering lights, a chaotic struggle fueled by fear and determination.

"You'll never win, Spider-man!" the Joker shrieked, his voice distorted with rage. But Seungmin, fueled by the image of Y/N's terrified face, wouldn't be deterred. He fought with a ferocity he didn't know he possessed, momentarily pinning the Joker down.

"Get out of here!" he yelled, his voice hoarse. Y/N. He had to get Y/N out of here. He knew the explosion wouldn't be immediate, maybe a few seconds, maybe a minute. Enough time… perhaps.

The Joker, momentarily stunned, stared at him with wide, manic eyes. In that brief moment of hesitation, Seungmin saw his chance. He shoved the Joker off him, scrambling to his feet. Ignoring the searing pain in his ankle, he sprinted towards the ventilation shaft, forcing himself through the narrow opening.

Back on the rooftop, the pre-dawn light painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. He pushed through the pain, his lungs burning, his vision blurring. He had to get to Y/N. Now.

He burst through the broken window, coughing and gasping for breath. He found Y/N still tied to the chair, her face pale with fear.

"Y/N!" he rasped, stumbling towards her. "There's no time! The bombs… they're set to go off. You have to run! Don't look back!"

Before she could even speak, he used his remaining strength to whip out a web and slice through the ropes binding her. With a final look, etched with a mixture of love and fear, he pushed her towards the broken window.

"Go!" he screamed, his voice hoarse. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he blinked them back. He wouldn't let her see him afraid.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then with a tearful nod, she scrambled through the window and disappeared into the pre-dawn sky. A choked sob escaped her lips, but she ran, not daring to look back.

Seungmin watched her go, a wave of despair washing over him. He had failed. He hadn't been able to save the city, hadn't been able to save himself. He closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

But just then, a powerful shove sent him sprawling across the roof. The Joker, a manic grin plastered on his face, stood above him.

"Seems like playtime's over, Spidey," the Joker taunted, his voice laced with a chilling glee. "Let's see how you do in the grand finale!"

The world seemed to slow down for Seungmin. The city lights shimmered below, a distorted reflection of the chaos swirling within him. Despair threatened to consume him, the weight of his failure crushing him. He was injured, alone, facing a madman with a detonator that could tear the city apart.

Yet, a spark flickered deep within him, a defiance fueled by the memory of Y/N's tearful face as she ran. He couldn't give up. Not yet. Not while there was even a sliver of hope.

Seungmin forced his eyes open, meeting the Joker's manic stare. A plan, desperate and risky, began to form in his mind.  "You think you've won, Joker?" he rasped, his voice laced with a bravado he didn't quite feel. "Look closer."

He gestured weakly towards the sky, where the faintest light of dawn was beginning to peek over the horizon.  "The sun's rising, Joker. You hate the light, don't you? It exposes the flaws in your little game."

The Joker's eyes narrowed. He hated being outsmarted, hated anything that disrupted his carefully crafted chaos.  Seungmin pressed on, his voice gaining a hint of strength.

"Maybe," he continued, "the bombs are just a distraction. Maybe the real game is proving you're not afraid of the light. Prove it, Joker. Press the button again. Show everyone you're not a coward hiding in the shadows.Cut the time."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed the Joker's face, a chink in his usual manic facade. Seungmin knew he was gambling, pushing the Joker's fragile ego to the limit.  But it was their only chance.

As the silence stretched, the tension crackled in the air.  The Joker's hand hovered over the button , his face a mask of conflicting emotions.  Was he considering it?  Seungmin held his breath, his injured body screaming in protest.

Suddenly, the Joker threw back his head and let out a loud, barking laugh.  "Oh, Spidey," he cackled, the sound echoing across the rooftop. "You are a cunning little spider! Always trying to play mind games. But you underestimate me!"

He raised the detonator high, a cruel glint in his eyes. "Perhaps the light bothers me," he hissed, "but the thought of all those screaming people… oh, the beautiful symphony of chaos!"

The Joker shrieked in excitement , his eyes burning with amusement . His grip tightened on the controller , his manic grin replaced by a snarl.  Seungmin knew he wouldn't hesitate to press the button now.

With a surge of adrenaline fueled by a desperate hope, Seungmin launched himself forward.  He ignored the searing pain in his ankle, his only focus on the Joker and the detonator clutched in his hand.

He tackled the Joker with a cry, sending them both sprawling across the rooftop agap. The controller flew from the Joker's grasp, clattering across the gravel.  Seungmin lunged for it, his fingers brushing against the smooth plastic.

Just then, a powerful kick landed on his injured ankle, sending him whimpering in pain.  The world tilted on its axis.  A sickening crack echoed in the night air as his wrist bent at an unnatural angle.  Agony lanced through him, momentarily stealing his breath.

The Joker, fueled by rage, scrabbled towards the object .  Seungmin reached out with a web strand, the last reserves of his strength leaving him. But it was too late.  The Joker snatched the detonator, a malevolent glee twisting his features.

With a maniacal laugh, he slammed his thumb down on the red button.  A harsh digital voice echoed through the night air.  "Explosion sequence initiated.Time cut in  half. Two minutes and thirty seconds remaining."

The Joker's laughter died in his throat, replaced by a look of sudden terror.  He hadn't meant to activate it so soon!  Panic flickered in his eyes for a brief moment before a twisted grin returned.

"Oops," he cackled, a hint of hysteria in his voice.  "Looks like playtime's over for everyone!"  He turned on his heel and darted towards the edge of the rooftop.

Before anyone could react, the Joker launched himself into the air, a purple He turned on his heel and darted towards the edge of the rooftop.

Before anyone could react, the Joker launched himself into the air, a purple

parachute blowing out behind him like a monstrous cape.  Seungmin watched, a mixture of pain and horror gripping him, as the Joker drifted away, a chilling echo of his laughter trailing behind.

The Joker's manic laughter echoed in Seungmin's ears even after he disappeared into the night sky. A digital voice, cold and unforgiving, filled the air: "One minute and fifty seconds remaining."  His ankle throbbed like a trapped bird, and a shard of bone jutted out from his wrist at an unnatural angle.

Y/N… where was Y/N?  Panic threatened to consume him, but he forced it down.  There was no time for fear.

Scrambling to his knees, the world tilted sickeningly.  Ignorance was no longer an option. He had to disarm the bombs. The control panel… it had to be in the ventilation shaft.  He forced himself to his feet, a wave of dizziness washing over him.

But with each agonizing step, a terrible truth settled in his gut.  He wouldn't make it.  The pain, the distance… it was all too much.  He was a broken machine, and the clock was ticking too fast.

Despair threatened to overwhelm him, but a primal instinct for survival flared within him. He couldn't save the city, but maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for him.  His eyes darted towards the open window behind him, the jagged edges a stark contrast to the blinding light above.

The digital voice chimed again, a cruel reminder of his dwindling time: "One minute and fifteen seconds remaining."  His breath hitched.  He wouldn't disarm the bombs.  He couldn't be a hero this time.  But he could try to live.

With a surge of adrenaline fueled by a sliver of hope, Seungmin lunged towards the window.  The broken glass tore at his clothes and flesh, a fleeting pain compared to the agony already coursing through him.  He launched himself through the opening, the wind whipping past him, a chilling song of finality.

He barely registered the screams from bellow , the blinding flash of light that engulfed the building, or the earth-shattering roar of the explosion.  The world became a blur of colors and pain, a cacophony of sounds fading into a distant echo.

Then, blessed darkness.

Seungmin blacked out before he could even feel the impact. He was a broken man falling and had no control anymore.

——-

The harsh fluorescent light felt like a blowtorch to Seungmin's eyelids. A dull throb pulsed in his head, a metronome keeping time with the sterile beeps of nearby machinery. The sterile scent of disinfectant stung his nose, a stark contrast to the acrid tang of smoke that clung to his memory.

He cracked open an eye, wincing at the sudden intrusion of light. His vision swam, the white ceiling a dizzying expanse. Slowly, the room came into focus. Sterile white walls, a heart monitor with its jagged green line, a vase holding a single, wilting carnation. He was in a hospital room.

Memories flooded back in a sickening rush. The building, the glint of chrome seconds before the world went red, the heart-stopping noise , the jarring impact… then nothing.

His throat felt like sandpaper. He croaked out a weak, "Hello?"

A strangled sob cut through the sterile silence. Y/N sat beside the bed, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent tears. Seungmin's heart lurched. He turned his head, panic clawing at his throat.

"Y/N?" Her name came out raspier than intended, but it was enough to draw her gaze up. Her eyes, red-rimmed and glassy with unshed tears, met his.

A choked cry escaped her lips as she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his hospital gown. The scent of her shampoo, a familiar comfort, filled his senses. The world faded away, leaving only the frantic beat of his heart and the tremors wracking her body.

"Seungmin," she choked out, her voice thick with tears. "I… I saw the news. They said the explosion...and I saw the fire…" Her voice broke, replaced by another sob that tore through him. "And then they mentioned Spider-Man. Seungmin, I thought… I thought I lost you."

He winced, the memory of the near-death experience sending a fresh jolt of pain through him. He held her close, whispering reassurances into her hair. "Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm here. I'm alright."

She pulled back slightly, tears glistening on her cheeks. "But you could have… You could have died, Seungmin." Her voice rose, laced with a raw desperation. "What would I have done without you?"

He cupped her face with his uninjured hand, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. "I know," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "But I couldn't just stand there. People were in danger…you were in danger."

Y/N's eyes searched his, a mix of worry and a simmering anger swirling within them. "I know you," she said softly. "You're a hero. But you're also my hero, Seungmin. And the thought of losing you…"

Her voice trailed off, a single tear rolling down her cheek. He leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, the vulnerability in his eyes echoing the fear in hers. "I promise, I'll always try to come back to you."

She took a shaky breath, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Just… promise to be careful, okay? For me? Don't you dare scare me like that ever again." There was a desperate plea in her voice, a fear that transcended just the potential loss of a hero.

He squeezed her hand, a silent promise hanging between them. The world outside the sterile walls might be filled with danger, but for now, in the quiet sanctuary of the hospital room, they had each other. And that, for Seungmin, was all that mattered. Yet, a nagging guilt gnawed at him. "Y/N," he started, his voice barely a whisper.

"Shh," she hushed him, nuzzling closer. "Just rest. You need to get better."

But he couldn't let it go. "I need to tell you something," he confessed, his voice thick with guilt. "About… about me,the Spider-Man thing."

"So,uhm…" Seungmin began, his voice still a little raspy. He squeezed Y/N's hand, finding comfort in her warmth.  "Remember how we were talking about Spider-Man and how scared you were?"

Y/N sniffled, wiping away a lingering tear. "How could I forget?" she admitted, her voice thick with emotion.

"They suggested I… train someone," he explained, his voice hesitant.  "An apprentice, someone who could learn the ropes and help out with the smaller stuff, the muggings, the petty thefts. Freeing me up for the bigger threats and eventually maybe…take over?."

Y/N listened intently, her brow furrowed in thought.  "That could be good," she admitted.  "You can't be everywhere at once, Seungmin. And maybe having some backup would ease your mind a little."

He reached out, taking her hand in his.  "It's not just about my mind," he confessed.  "It's about being there for you too. I don't want to put you through this constant worry every time there's trouble."

Y/N squeezed his hand back, her gaze filled with understanding and unwavering support.  "I understand," she said softly.

Seungmin squeezed her hand, a silent vow echoing in his heart. He was Spider-Man, the protector of the city. But he was also Seungmin, and Y/N was his rock. Together, they would find a way to balance his heroic duties with the life they shared.

"Finding an apprentice won't be easy, though," he mused, a thoughtful crease forming on his forehead. "There's a lot at stake. They need to be trustworthy, brave, and quick on their feet."

Y/N tilted her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, you wouldn't need to look very far to find someone brave, would you?" she teased, nudging him playfully.

Seungmin chuckled, his heart swelling with warmth. "Maybe not," he conceded. "But there's more to it than that. They need to be able to keep a secret, understand the risks involved, and be willing to put themselves out there for people they don't even know."

"Sounds like tall toddler ," Y/N admitted. "But you know your team better than anyone. They wouldn't have suggested it if they didn't think it was possible."

Seungmin nodded, a newfound determination burning in his eyes. "They're right," he said, a hint of excitement creeping into his voice. "Maybe this is the answer I've been looking for. A way to be Spider-Man and still be there for you."

A curious glint sparked in Y/N's eyes. "So, where exactly do you find these… apprentices?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement.

Seungmin chuckled. "Actually," he began, "the city runs a program called the Hero Academy. It's for aspiring heroes, people with potential who want to learn the ropes, develop their skills, and maybe even one day join the ranks of the city's protectors."

Y/N's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A Hero Academy? That sounds… official. I always thought heroes were more like, lone wolves, you know, brooding on rooftops."

Seungmin laughed. "There's definitely some brooding involved," he admitted with a playful wink. "But there's also a lot of training, teamwork, and strategy. The Academy would be a great place to find someone who's already dedicated to the cause, someone who understands the responsibility that comes with being a hero."

Y/N pondered this for a moment, a thoughtful expression on her face. "So, you'd be training someone who already has a basic understanding of heroics? That could be good. Less time spent teaching them the difference between a fire escape and a villain's lair, more time focusing on the real threats."

"Exactly," Seungmin said, relief washing over him. Not only did Y/N seem okay with the idea of an apprentice, but she also understood the logic behind it.

"So, what's next, Spidey-teacher?" Y/N asked, a playful smile dancing on her lips.

Seungmin grinned. "Next, I guess, is a little visit to the Academy. Maybe they have some promising rookies who wouldn't mind learning from the best." He winked, earning a playful swat on the arm from Y/n."And you know I’ve been at it for a while,plus being a hero is amazing, but…" Seungmin trailed off, squeezing her hand gently. "Sometimes, a guy just wants a normal life. You know, the kind with… events like this, when you and I have to worry about our future…."

A soft smile tugged at her lips.Y/n understood. The adrenaline rush, the constant danger, it wasn't something most people could handle forever.

"Are you saying...?" she prompted voice barely a whisper.Seungmin met Y/n’s gaze, his eyes filled with a warmth that sent a shiver down her spine. "I'm saying, maybe after a few more years, when things have settled down a bit… maybe it'll be time for me to hang up the webs."

Her breath hitched. "For good?"

"Well," he continued, a playful glint in his eyes, "there's always the chance a supervillain decides to crash our retirement party, but…" his voice softened again, "mostly for good. I want a life with you, Y/N. A real life, where we can build something together, a family…"

The unspoken question hung in the air.Y/n’s heart hammered against her ribs, a joyous counterpoint to the city's soft hum below. Leaning forward, she closed the distance between them, whispering the answer he longed to hear, "Yes, Seungmin. I want that too."

Seungmin closed the remaining gap, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that was both hesitant and full of yearning. It was a soft exploration, a taste of what was to come. The taste of coffee and something deeper, a connection that transcended their years of friendship.

As the kiss deepened, a spark ignited, sending a jolt of electricity through both. It was a kiss filled with the unspoken words of love, relief, and a future brimming with possibilities.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers . His eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, held a universe of emotions. "I love you, Y/N," he breathed softly.

Taglist: @juskz @blackhairandbangs @sxnset-angel @emossssss @hanjsquokka @feelikecinderella @starlostastronaut @kpopsstuffs @lixxpix @jinnie-ret @bangchans-angel @puppyminnnie @michelle4eve @kpopsstuffs @skzswife @saiko-skz @quailbagutte @briqnne @ilychee08 @dollce-exe

[saratogaroadwrites]

For King and Country (44/122)

For King and Country | saratogaroad rating: T total wordcount:  280,466 characters: Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane, Aranella, Batu, Tani, Lofty, Leander Aristidies, Bracken Meadows relationships: Roland Crane & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Aranella & Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum, Roland Crane & Aranella, Batu & Tani, Batu & Evan, Tani & Evan, Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum & Lofty, Rolander other tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Mother-Son Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Place Slowly Becomes Home People Slowly Become Family, Found Family, For Want of A Nail warnings: none

Pulled from his world by mysterious powers, former president Roland Crane finds himself caught in the middle of a coup meant to take the life of the young King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum. Joining forces with Aranella, the pair of them set out to aid Evan in making his dream of a kingdom where everyone can live happily ever after a reality.

But the road to peace is a long and treacherous one and there is no promise of success in a world where darkness spreads ever thicker with each passing day. If they are to stand a chance, they must stand together, for king and for country.

(A retelling.)

=

“That’s Hydropolis?” Evan asked in an awed tone of voice, half bent over the rail for a better look. They had drawn so near during the night that the capitol of the Hydropolitan nation had appeared almost as if from nowhere as soon as the sun had risen, and the white stone construction gleamed in the early morning sun. “It’s so big!”

“That it is, lad,” Batu said, clapping a hand to Evan’s shoulder to keep him from over-balancing, “The jewel o’the Southern Sea. Capitol of the Hydropolitan nation, and seat of Queen Nerea ‘erself.” He snorted. “Figures they’d be all pomp and show in their blasted biggest city.”

“Might as well be their only city,” Roland chimed in, rubbing the back of his neck. Evan turned back and narrowed his eyes; was it just him, or did Roland seem a bit…paler than usual today? “According to the books at the Library, Hydropolis doesn’t have any colonies or protectorates like Goldpaw. All their citizens live here.”

“Is that normal?” Nella asked, her brow furrowed. Had she seen it too, Evan wondered for a moment. “A nation isolating itself like that?”

Roland just shrugged. “Not normal, but it’s not unheard of.” He squinted against the sunlight, looking out over the sea. “There could be any number of reasons why they haven’t spread out. It’s hard to say without the full picture, but…” He grimaced. “Whatever their reason, I don’t think it’s going to make the next few days any easier.”

“I suppose not,” Evan said, a lump of trepidation sitting heavy in his gut. He took a deep breath and looked once more towards the city. They’d be there very soon indeed. Whatever happened once they arrived… “But we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now,” He turned around and frowned. “Are you alright, Roland?” He asked, and a tiny bubble of pride burst in his chest as Roland startled. “You don’t look well.”

“You are rather pale,” Nella said, reaching over and laying the back of her hand across Roland’s forehead. He nearly went cross-eyed to look at her as she frowned. “No fever, though. You’d best not be getting ill again.”

Roland snorted quietly. Everyone watched him as he leaned back against the guard rail and said, “No, it’s not that. It’s a headache. I—”

“If you say you’re fine,” Tani interrupted with a flat look, “I’ll kick you off the bow.”

Tove, still perched on Roland’s shoulder, burst out into hysterical giggles. Clearing his throat and clearly fighting a smile, Roland shook his head.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” he said, and when everyone sighed in relief he really did laugh. Evan’s tail waved behind him as Roland cleared his throat and went on, “What I was going to say is that I think it’s the same kind of headache that I got in Goldpaw.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It feels the same, at least.”

Evan’s tail went eerily still behind him. The same kind of—oh, no. No no no. Slowly shaking his head, Evan took a step forward.

“But that means that it’s the same Darkness, doesn’t it?” He glanced down at Lofty, who was eyeing Roland with a pensive expression, “That means that it’s Doloran!”

“Nah, mun,” Lofty said, shaking his head. “It ‘en’t that strong yet. Place stinks, but it ain’t reekin’.” He sighed. “Nah, I’m guessin’ that he’s tryin’ to corrupt somebody, but he’s doin’ it from somewhere else. Or he is here and just ‘en’t been here long enough to stink up the air.”

“Stink up the air?” Tani frowned, “Does Darkness have a smell?”

“All magic does,” Evan said, frowning. He had been too panicked to really think about it then, but…had Goldpaw smelled of anything besides the food stalls and tea blends? So much had happened since then that the memory had faded. Hissing in aggravation, he shook his head. “But I don’t know what Darkness smells like.”

“Rotten fruit,” Lofty said plainly, “Youe’d notice it first, Evan lad, being pure-hearted like you are. Rest of us would be a bit slower.” He eyed Roland with a frown. “‘Cept ol’ Rolly-boy by yur. Talk about bein’ a flippin’ early warnin’ system, eh?”

Roland snorted, knuckling his forehead. Batu glanced down.

“And ye can’t do a thing for ‘im? Ye helped Miss Aranella before, didn’t ye?”

“Ack!” Lofty bounced away from Evan’s suddenly hopeful expression. “That was different, mun! That was a curse! I was just holdin’ it back, see? This ‘en’t the same thing! I ‘en’t a bloomin’ healer!”

“You’ll be a bloomin’ float if you don’t stuff it,” Tani growled. Roland heaved a sigh; Tove crooned quietly in his ear as he took a deep, steadying breath and raised his head.

“It’s fine,” he said firmly, “I’ll manage. Besides, we—” He paused suddenly, looking at something over Evan’s shoulder. If it was at all possible, he went even paler. “We’re about to have a bigger problem. Look.”

Everyone turned. Evan’s tail went straight up as he caught sight of the three ships bearing down on them from Hydropolis in the distance. With a soft hiss, Tani rocked back on her heels.

“What’re the odds we just caught merchants heading out?” She asked.

“Not odds I’d bet on, girlie,” Batu said. “See those cannons?” He pointed across the waters to the ships drawing nearer by the moment. Evan had to squint against the sunlight reflecting off the waves to see clearly, but sure enough, each ship was loaded with at least four cannons each. He drew back with a hiss; Nella set a steadying hand on his back as Batu said, “I’d wager those’re warships rollin’ out the red carpet for us.”

“Or a blockade,” Nella said with an audible frown. She turned and called over her shoulder, “Ketch, can you turn us around?”

“Wouldn’t recommend it, ma’am,” their Captain called back. His grip on the ship’s wheel was white knuckled, his jaw set. “Last thing we want’s to give them a broadside shot.”

“They’ll be on us in a minute!” Tani almost shouted; she wasn’t wrong. The wind was pushing from the south, giving the Hydropolitan ships a boost that the Eternity’s waterwheel engine just couldn’t match. “We have to do something!”

Evan closed his eyes and thought quickly. If he remembered his maps correctly, they hadn’t entered Hydropolitan waters yet. So long as they remained in the open ocean, the Hydropolitans would have no reason to open fire on them. At least, he hoped so. If he was wrong, then…

Then they were all as good as dead.

Shoving the thought away, Evan spun on his heel and called up, “Drop anchor! Let them come to us!”

“Aye!” Ketch called back, his voice barely wavering as he shouted orders to his crewmen. Nella tilted her head.

“Evan?”

“I want to try and talk to them,” he responded to her unanswered question. The anchor’s chain rattled and clanked as it went clean over the edge, the sails snapping closed as they pulled to as much of a stop as possible in open water. The Hydropolitan ships sailed ever closer and he swallowed hard, tail twining around his legs. “Explain to them we mean no harm. Surely they’ll at least hear us out.”

“And if they don’t?” Roland asked softly. Evan gulped.

“Then…I suppose the fish will be well fed tonight.” He said with a shudder despite the sun beating down on his back. Nella squeezed his shoulder, but there was no time for another plan. The Hydropolitan ships—three large, wooden ships that were at least twice the size of the Eternity—drew up closer, one turning to aim her cannons from the bow of the Eternity to her stern, and the other two flanking on either side. Lofty bounced up to Evan’s shoulder and hung on tight.

“You can do this, my son,” he whispered, “We believe in you.”

Evan nodded. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to hold his shoulders straight and his head up high as he walked to the railing nearest the Hydropolitan ship. The crew, a mix of Merfolk and Humanfolk in leather and chainmail armor, stared back at him. Planting his hands on the railing Evan called out to them.

“I am King Evan Pettiwhisker Tildrum of Evermore! I seek an audience with her Majesty, Queen Nerea of Hydropolis!” The crew stared back at him. Gulping, Evan added, “We mean you no harm! We come only to speak!”

Silence. Evan dug his fingernails into the guard rail and tried to breathe normally. Tani slipped up beside him and set her hand over his; she smiled tightly when he looked at her, then gestured with her chin to the Hydropolitan ship. Evan snapped his eyes back, and was surprised to find a Merfolk man in golden armor striding to the rail of his ship. Removing his helm, the man called across the divide.

“I am Commander Neptune of the Hydropolitan Navy,” he called, his deep voice pitched to carry orders across a battlefield. Evan stood up just a little straighter as he called, “State your business with her Majesty.”

“We seek an alliance with Hydropolis!” Evan returned, watching as the crew exchanged surprised glances. Had they been expecting an attack? An invasion? With one unarmed ship? Evan tried not to think about it as he said, “We do not seek to cause trouble, Commander!”

“Her Majesty shall be the judge of that,” Commander Neptune returned. Slipping his helm back on, he pulled a coral colored conch shell from his belt and blew into it. A single sonorous note sung through the air, and at the bow of the Eternity, the ship that had once been preparing to fire on them slipped through the waves and out of their way. Evan sighed quietly in relief, then jumped as Commander Neptune’s voice called out once more, “We shall escort you to the harbor. Be prepared to surrender your weapons upon arrival.”

Then he strode away, barking orders to his crew. As the crew of the Eternity weighed anchor, Roland inclined his head.

“That went pretty well,” he said lightly, but when Evan whirled on him his eyes were gleaming with pride. “Nice job.”

“Yeah,” Tani beamed, “They didn’t blow us out of the water, either!” She elbowed him in the ribs, “Nice going, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, you two…” Evan looked away, cheeks flushed pink with embarrasment. Batu let loose a cackle, only to suddenly stop as a sudden rumble shook the air. Everyone, even Tove, looked up; the painfully clear blue sky looked back at them. That hadn’t been thunder, then? Evan flicked an ear.

“What was that?” He asked, then jolted as the sound came again.

Tani perched on her toes to peer over the Hydropolitan ship escorting them from their port side and scanned the horizon with quick eyes. A second later, she pointed towards the horizon.

“There!”

It took a second to see it, but once Evan spotted what she had been pointing at there was no chance of missing it. A column of white smoke, nearly as thick as a building, rose from the ocean just to the south and east of Hydropolis. Nella made a noise in the back of her throat.

“A fire?”

Batu shook his head.

“That’s open water, Miss,” the big man rumbled lowly, “And that ain’t smoke. It’s steam.”

“Steam?” Roland frowned. “Like boiling water steam?” When Batu nodded, Roland raised both eyebrows and stared out at the column. “That’s not good.”

Evan turned around, frowning. “Why? What does it mean?”

“Well,” Roland sighed, “It could mean a few things, but since we’re dealing with an island chain…” he shook his head. “I’m guessing it’s some kind of underwater volcano. And if it’s giving off enough heat to make steam all the way out there, then…”

“Then it’s going to erupt,” Evan nodded slowly, turning back to sea. Swallowing hard, he tried to calm his racing heart. An erupting volcano was the last thing they, or Hydropolis needed right now. And given what they knew, then…

What were the odds that Doloran had something to do with this? He wasn’t the betting sort, but…even he would have risked a few Guilders on this one. Eying the column of steam, Evan swallowed once more.

In spite of the sun beating down on his back, the young king shivered.

[watchmegetobsessed]

BABY MAMA

A/N: woke up and just knew i needed to write about dad Harry, bc lets be honest, he is my fav. this fic is perfectly fine as a oneshot, but if you'd like, it could be a sequel to Grammy Winner Husband and Baby Grammy, i wrote things to line up with them!

PAIRING: Husband!Harry / Dad!Harry x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

masterlist

The arena is blowing up, the fans are screaming from the top of their lungs and Harry is putting out a show just as good as the previous ones have been. He is blowing the stage up, singing, dancing, joking around with the fans, enjoying this time he gets to spend with the people who got him to this point in his life. He’ll never be not grateful for what he has, what he is experiencing, no matter how hard this life can get sometimes.

“Dallas, how are you feeling tonight?” he asks in the mic as he walks back to his water bottle to have a few sips. The crowd erupts, the screams almost burst his eardrums, but he just chuckles, easing his thirst with some water before he returns to the microphone stand.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he teasingly asks, though the reaction is the same. Insane screaming. “Alright, let’s move this show on before you get bored,” he chuckles playfully, the band starts playing the next song and he is back at what he does the best. Performing.

Though not far from the arena, there’s someone who thinks there’s something he is even better at than performing. That person is you, and you’re one hundred percent sure Harry is best at being a father to your five months old son.

Owning the stage, putting out the utter best he can, Harry’s thoughts still wander away from the show he is supposed to be focusing on. He can’t help it, his instincts are just completely drawn to his baby in the hotel suit, dying to know how he is doing. Leaving for the show late afternoon was harder than usually, because baby Theo was having a fever and coughing quite badly. His heart was breaking that he couldn’t help his son, didn’t even know what could be done for such a tiny baby.

“Love, he’ll be alright, okay? The doctor is on the way, it’s gonna be fine,” you told him gently as he was cradling Theo to his naked chest, always so eager to be skin-to-skin with him. Harry kissed his soft little curls on top of his head before nodding, though you knew it was eating him away.

“Call me or Jeff if something happens, okay?” he told you, handing Theo over to you, who was finally asleep after fussing for hours.

“I will,” you nodded, but he cupped your face to make you look at him.

“Y/N, I mean it. I’ll come off the stage if—“

“You won’t come off the stage, Theo is gonna be fine, he just probably got a cold from the aircon at the greenroom in Denver. He’ll be here when you get back, okay?”

He knew this tone, this was your momma bear voice and he would never argue with you when you used it, so he just nodded, kissed you and then Theo’s chubby cheek before heading out.

Now as he is nearing the end of the show he can’t help but think about finally being back at the hotel with his wife and baby, though he won’t let it be seen how eager he is to get off the stage.

The last song passes, the whole arena blows up from the energy and he is throwing kisses everywhere as he heads off the stage, down the aisle that leads him backstage. As he puts on his mask he turns around one last time, throwing some more kisses around to his beloved fans before disappearing behind the curtains.

“Did she call?” he instantly asks Jeff instantly, who hands him his phone over, a text from you already waiting for him.

Doc just left, everything is fine, left some meds for bub. Love you Xx

Even though this is what you told him before too, he feels relieved that the doctor confirmed it, but he still can’t wait to see the two of you.

“Alright, get the car ready, I’m leaving in ten,” he tells Jeff.

“Got it,” he nods, not even daring to argue with him. He knows better than to stand between Harry and his baby.

His legs bounce nervously on his way back to the hotel and he jumps out of the car as if it was on fire, running inside in a rush. He swipes the keycard through the reader on the door and opens it quietly, scanning over the place for you and Theo and there you are, sitting in one of the armchairs with his sleeping son in your arms, your hand gently tapping on his bum. You must have just finished feeding him, because a rag is still thrown over your shoulder and your shirt is all wrinkled around your chest. Theo loves playing with the fabric while you breastfeeding him and Harry loves watching his tiny fingers grab onto it and massaging it aimlessly.

“Hey,” he breathes out, quietly pushing the door closed behind him before he walks over, kneeling in front of you. He kisses Theo’s forehead first, before pressing his lips to yours too. “How is bub feeling?”

“He is doing good. The doc gave him some meds for the fever and we have a syrup for the coughing. He said he’ll be fine in a few days,” you softly explain to him, nodding towards everything the doctor left you on the coffee table.

Harry grabs the bottles, inspecting them as if he knows anything about medicine and you can’t help but smile as he furrows his eyebrows, reading the packaging.

“Want to put him to bed?” you ask him, his head snapping up right away.

“Of course,” he nods eagerly. You both stand up and he carefully takes the little boy from your arms without waking him up. “Hey bubs, I missed you,” he coos at Theo and as you watch him sway with the sleeping baby, your heart could easily burst from just the sight of them.

You didn’t know what life would be like as a family of three. After Harry posted a picture of you with his Grammy award and your belly ready to pop, the whole world went crazy over the fact that Harry Styles is going to be a dad. Despite the buzz, you managed to stay hidden for the rest of your pregnancy and just three weeks after that post, Theodore Styles decided to come to the world. Harry cancelled everything for the first two months, it was just the three of you, showering in the joys of parenthood. You had all the ups and downs, but you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Then tour got rescheduled and Harry was hesitant whether it was a good idea to go on the road with a five months old.

“Sarah and Mitch are coming too, she gave birth a week after me,” you reasoned when Harry was about to cancel the whole tour. It took you some time to convince him that it’s gonna be fine, though you knew he would be extra cautious with Theo.

Now as you see him gently sway his way to the bassinet next to your bed, knowing that he just performed to thousands of people and now he is here with you and your son, you wouldn’t change it to some peace at home. Besides, you’re convinced tour is gonna do good for Theo, make him get used to people around him, not just the two of you or the grandparents and aunts. During the first night in Vegas, he barely spent an hour in your arms, everyone wanted a piece of him and you gladly let them befriend him, especially because he loves meeting new people, just like his daddy.

As Harry lays him into the bassinet and stands next to it with a lovesick smile on his face, you sneak behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He smells so fresh, he surely had a quick shower before heading back to the hotel, but you’re already planning to seduce him to join you for a quick shower as well. He won’t say no.

“Watched a livestream for a bit, you were so good,” you hum, kissing his right shoulder blade and you don’t miss how he leans back against you. “Loved the shimmery outfit.”

“Yeah?” he chuckles softly. Reaching around, he pulls you forwards so he can wrap you in his arms, kissing your forehead gently. “I missed seeing you dance at the side,” he smirks at you and you don’t miss the reference to the old times.

On his first solo tour, when you weren’t even married yet he often caught you dancing like crazy at the side of the stage, it would always make him laugh mid-song and you loved hearing his giggles through the mic, so you often did it on purpose. A few nights ago in Vegas you did the same, but with Theo in your arms, a massive ear protector on his head so the noise didn’t hurt him. When Harry spotted you, he almost started crying, he mouthed I love youand then carried on with the show.

“I’ll be there soon,” you smile at him, cupping his face in your hands to pull him down for a kiss that’s more than just a peck. “Now, I need help with something,” you mumble against his lips.

“Anything, baby.”

“I need you to help me shower,” you tell him cheekily. He pulls back and stares down at you with a playful grin, his hands already wandering under your shirt.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, I need someone to wash my back and… maybe somewhere else,” you hum seductively and start pulling him towards the bathroom, peeking at Theo one last time, but he is sleeping so deep, the two of you can have some alone time.

“Alright, I could never deny anything from my favorite milf,” he grins, but you smack his chest with a gasp.

“Harry! I told you not to call me that!” you protest, the two of you walking into the bathroom not to bother the sleeping baby in the room. You start running the water right away so it can be nice and hot for you when you walk in.

“Why? You are a milf,” he smirks, so full of himself, already pulling his shirt over his head.

“Then you’re a dilf, just so you know.”

“Baby, my fans have been calling me that for years, even before Theo,” he chuckles softly.

“You were destined to be a dad,” you giggle, getting rid of your own clothes. “Hey, if Theo feels better tomorrow, we could maybe take a walk in that park we saw on the way here,” you suggest, but when no answer comes, you look at Harry and find him just standing there, fully naked, staring at you grinning widely. “What?” you ask, glancing down at your own naked body. Suddenly, you are way too aware of the weight you haven’t been able to lose after giving birth, the stretch marks on your waist and how you’re not at all freshly shaved. Just as you’d move your hands to cover yourself a bit, Harry grabs your wrists and stops you.

“You are so fucking gorgeous, baby,” he hums, dropping his head until his lips could reach yours.

“Stop being such a flirt,” you giggle, feeling your face heating up.

“It’s the truth! I have the prettiest baby mama and that’s a fact.”

He looks at you with so much love and adoration in those beautiful green eyes, it almost makes you cry, knowing that this man is your husband and you get to spend the rest of your life with him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you kiss him hard, pulling him into the spacious walk in shower.

“Then come and get your baby mama wet,” you giggle against his lips, making him laugh with the ambiguous request as he shuts the glass door behind him, his lips hungrily kissing wherever he can reach and you’re pretty sure the hot water is not the only thing that’s steaming up the glass.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

[dreamkidddream]

Hey, Dream! For your game, can I have: 🚪 (showing up at the other's door, begging for comfort), 🍯 (friends to lovers) and 💘 (love at first sight) + Mammon from Obey Me, plsss??

Build-a-Blurb Ask Game

Loving the love that Mammon’s been receiving lately 😌💛 reader is gender neutral!

CW: lesson 16 spoilers, mentions of death

Mammon remembers the moment when he first fell in love with you.

It was cheesy and something he would NEVER admit to in thousands of years, but he remembers the exact moment where he felt his heart stop. It was late at night, and you were both stuffing your face with hellfire noodles watching some random action movie filled with explosions. He doesn’t remember much from the movie, but he remembers how warm he felt hearing your laughter ring out in the air, how much your smile made you glow, and how he could just stare at you for hours. He couldn’t stop stuttering when you caught him gazing at you red-handed, but all you did was nudge and continue to lean on him, giving him that same smile that made his heart skip a beat.

That’s when he realized that he wasn’t looking at you as just a best friend or partner in crime anymore.

It was that moment he fell in love, and only continued to fall deeper for you.

But that wasn’t the reason why he was here.

It was stupid, he knew it was. He felt like a child crawling into his parents’ bed too scared to stay in his own room- he had a nightmare and all of a sudden he couldn’t sleep until he saw you were okay. That you were still breathing, and not laying lifelessly like you were in his arms after…after-

Even now his stomach was twisting just thinking about it.

It was something that he tried to avoid, that he tried to forget, but it didn’t matter how much he tried, it always remained in his mind. It only ever reared its ugly head whenever you were in danger or a possibility that you could get hurt, but tonight it decided to invade his sleep, taking over his once peaceful dream and turning it into the worst nightmare he could ever have.

He can’t ever forget the dark bruises surrounding your neck, the finger imprints that seem to sink into your skin, how limp you felt in his arms, how your eyes glazed over and no longer held light in them, how he was too late to protect you. His family was close again and all was forgiven- but that doesn’t mean that he can just forget that image, pretend like it never happened, because it gives him a reminder that he can’t forget.

You’re human, a mortal, one of the most fragile beings in existence.

That’s why whenever his mind would flash back to that image, he had to go see you for himself that he didn’t fail to save you a second time-

“Mammon?”

He must look so pitiful, so pathetic standing outside your door right now. His hair is a mess, his clothes are disheveled, he’s broken out into a cold sweat- but he didn’t care and you don’t see any of that, only concern flashing in your orbs. Instead, you open the door wider and usher him in. Your hand feels soft and warm against his, and it reminds him that you’re still here with him.

It doesn’t take long before he’s laying on top of you, hugging you tight with trembling hands. All he can do is focus on your heart beat, the rhythmic thump soothing him instantly. You don’t question him on anything, only rubbing your fingers through his snow-white locks and bringing your lips to place a delicate kiss on his forehead.

Mammon’s your protector, your first man, the one to keep you safe always. He’s suppose to be one comforting you, not the other way around. But he can’t help but sink into your arms further, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He can’t look you in the eyes as he’s trying to blink back tears, but you make it so easy for him to let his walls down, to be vulnerable.

Your fingers and breathing are starting to slow down and he feels his own eyes starting to droop, but neither of you let go. If anything, he shifted to where you both laid on your side, limbs tangled together. Mammon finally gets the courage to glance at you when you already dozed off, no longer being able to fight it anymore. He’s not upset though, and it helps him crack a smile at how silly his human is. His human.

When Mammon falls asleep this time, he dreams no longer of that memory- instead, he dreams of all of the happy memories he experienced.

He dreams of you.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Beel + 🛀🏽

"Cherish the last three kisses on your lips." - Beelzebub

It feels wrong to see her like this, after everything. Or not her, really, because it's not even really her, but rather just her likeness. Eyes that were once warm and loving, are now etched closed forever upon this cold marble slab; her hands, which should have been soft and small, now rest as stone, stiff across her form, cradling an empty space against her chest. Lilith, their beautiful sister -- now just a marble body carved upon an empty coffin.

Her expression, from those last moments, flashes through Beelzebub's mind -- the fear, the pain, the split-second cry just before she began to plummet. An expression even more wrong on her face than the empty stone one before him now.

All of this, this death, this funeral now -- it's his fault, he thinks. It was his failure. He'd had the chance to save her, and in that panicked moment, he'd gone to help Belphegor instead. He glances nervously over at his twin, staring at the same carved figure with silent disbelief, tears rolling down from a lost expression. The rest of their brothers, too, look similar, each trying to process her loss in their own ways. He can hear Mammon sobbing quietly and faint sniffles from Asmo off to the side, a more genuine sound than his usual overdramatic wails. Lucifer stands a few steps back from the rest, a distantly hard look upon his face as he watches over them all.

Beelzebub was supposed to be the strong one. He had been Lucifer's bodyguard, and protector of the Celestial Realm at large. Why hadn't he been able to save her? He should have been stronger; he should have been faster, braver, should have been anything it took to be there to save her in those last moments.

Do they hate him for it?

Of course, they had known the risks when they had entered the war. She hadn't been the only casualty; far from it, he'd watched many friends on both sides fall in the clashes. With seven in their family, it was hardly surprising for at least one not to make it. And if not for the war, her death would have been only all the more certain, decreed from upon high as it was. As angels, they wouldn't even have been allowed to mourn her this way. No, it wouldn't have been seen as appropriate to mourn after oblivion was her punishment. At least now, like this --

His wings click abuzz against each other behind him as he chokes down a sob, the still-conflicted feelings around their fall mixing with his grief. It's still strange to him, to hear them beating upon his back at moments like these, the harsh noise a far departure from the gentle fluttering of his old feathers. Worse yet, the sound echoes through this vast tomb, resonating with dissonance against itself as it bounces off the cold walls.

He'll become stronger. He will. He will train every day. Whatever it takes to be better in the future. Whatever it takes to become more powerful. Whatever it takes to never lose a member of his precious family ever again.

And as for Lilith, the sister he failed, let it at least be for the better. He can hardly bear to imagine her as a demon alongside them, either, sweet youngest sister as she had been. Let her, in her final rest, cherish her last three kisses before the war. From Lucifer, on her forehead, for good luck before the battle began. From Beel, on her cheek, for the promise that they'd be a trio together with Belphie forever. And from the human she'd given everything for, on the lips, for all the love with him that she'd deserved.

After many more moments of grieving, Lucifer steps forward at last to lay the grimoire upon her hands before they say goodbye one last time. It is the demons' heart, their soul. Though she may be gone, she'll have that piece of them here with her -- always. And they will never forget her.

[erodasfishtacos]

Not So Easy

prompt: Harry and Y/N have both had a rough week. Ivy is in the prime of her terrible twos. It’s a disaster waiting to happen.

word count: 6.2k

warnings: swearing, smut, a little angst

AN: Fulfilling this request ***. This is part of the CEO!Harry verse. If you enjoy please like, reblog, and come chat with me about it x 

*** <--- click for visuals

-----

It was a gorgeous, cool Saturday evening and Y/N had been cooped up in the house all week due to nasty rainstorms that lasted the whole week. All of Y/N’s friends had canceled plans for one reason or another. Anne came down with flu and couldn’t visit like she was suppose to.

Harry had an extra awful week at work - which was saying something - and hadn’t been able to let it go. The frustration and irritation he usually was good at leaving at the office at the end of the workday hadn’t been happening.

Ivy was in the midst of her terrible twos and quite frankly it was disaster for all of them.

They decided on one of their favorite restaurants about an hour outside of London near the beautiful, green countryside. ***

It was a family-owned Italian establishment with outside seating on the patio. The tables were filled but Harry always managed to squeeze himself into a non-existent reservation with his charm (and wallet).

When they’re escorted onto the deck, Ivy had Harry hitched up on his hip and wriggles her into her wooden high-chair with little difficulty - she had just woken up from a nap and was in a seemingly okay mood.

Y/N notices a few pairs of eyes watching them from the table close to theirs but decided that she was just being paranoid. And if she brought it up to Harry she knows he’d immediately tell them to fuck off and mind their business. 

They get Ivy settled with her favorite little sensory book and her plush baby doll ***, as they look at the menu, “I’m so hungry,” Y/N grumbles, unable to decide what she wants to eat, Ivy literally running her around all day with no time for refueling.

“Me too, y’didn’t let me finish my meal earlier,” Harry murmurs cheekily, looking at his wife over his menu with a raised eyebrow, “Guess I’ll just have to wait for dessert.”

“Baba’s asleep, she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow,” Harry tells his wife, trotting in their bedroom. He’s already stripping the shirt off his head and wriggling his running shorts down his narrow hips.

Y/N’s laying on the bed, too distracted by her romance novel to notice Harry’s actions - well until he yanks at her ankles until her bum skids towards the end of the bed, she lets out a surprise yelp at her husband’s strength.

He plucks the book from her hands and tosses it to the floor with a thump. His hands are hurriedly reaching to pull down her shorts and panties with impatience at having his wife bare before him.

“Someone’s a bit horny,” Y/N teases, raising her hips to let him slide them down before they join the book on the floor. He ducks down to bite at the soft skin of her hip bone, suckling a dark mark there in ownership.

“Have y’seen yourself, pet?” Harry replies lowly, unable to help himself as he dips down and swipes a long, languid lip up her center with no warning. It has her moaning and pushing herself into his mouth.

“We don’t have long, H. Need you in me,” His wife whines, pulling him up by his hair until he’s slipping his tongue right into her mouth, wasting no time to hike her hips up around his waist and pushing in with one strong, directive thrust.

Y/N blushes and darts her eyes back down to the menu, “If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you.”

Harry laughs, eyes wrinkling around the corners, “Y’know even when I’m not good, y’let me.”

It was very very true.

“Oops!” Ivy squeals when her doll falls to the ground. It was one of the new words she’s finally understood in context and it’s unbelievably cute to hear her high, little squeaky voice.

“S’alright, here you go bab,” Harry titters, reaching down to toss it back onto the table for his daughter. She looked so fucking adorable tonight in what Y/N had dressed her in a little Gucci jean jacket with matching jeans. ***

Ivy manages to keep herself pretty occupied until she needs a diaper change. The meals had just arrived, steaming hot and smelling like heaven, but Y/N slings their diaper bag over her shoulder and totes the baby off to the bathroom.

Harry watches them, like the protector he is until they make it to the bathroom safely. He can sense eyes on him (the same group Y/N thought was watching) but unlike his wife, Harry makes eye contact with the table who were staring directly at his wife and then him.

“Can I fuckin’ help you?” Harry asks bluntly, not hesitating to stare down every single person at the table. He didn't want anyone staring at them, staring at Y/N, staring at Ivy. He wanted to enjoy his dinner in peace with his family. He assumed they probably worked for him.

They avert their gaze from the intense man, acting nonchalantly and sipping at their glasses filled with wine as if they weren’t just staring at them. It makes Harry scoff loudly enough so that they can hear it.

When Y/N appears back with Ivy and attempts to plop her back into her seat, her limbs go wiggly and her eyebrow knits with refusal, letting out little kicks, “No mummy, no!”

“Baby, we’ve got to eat now. How ‘bout after we’re done?” Y/N hums in her daughter’s ear, attempting to steady the toddler’s legs to slide into the slots of the chair. 

Y/N knew it was going to be a struggle since Y/N told Ivy she couldn’t have the big stuffed animal that was in the gift shop on the way to the bathroom.

“Mummy! Don’t wanna!” Ivy protests loudly, her face pinched with her terrible twos anger as she squirms and twists in her mother’s grip.

“S’okay, give her to me,” Harry tells his wife, taking Ivy in his lap. She smiles with deep dimples up at her father before going to reach her little fingers into his pasta. “No, Ivy. S’hot, it’s goin’ to burn you.”

Ivy pulls her brows together, decidedly not liking what her dad had to say, because she’s reaching out once again. “Ivy, daddy said ‘no’. Be a good girl and listen.”

“Mine.” Oh god, her favorite word at the moment.

“Ivy Elizabeth, s’not yours. S’daddy’s. Mummy ordered you chicken, which she very nicely cut up for you. You need to eat that, lovie,” Harry uses a bit of a firmer voice with the little girl, pulling her plate of cubed of food over.

“Here, bub,” Y/N takes a small piece, bringing it up to her daughter’s full lips. Only to be met with a hand batting it away until it’s being flung limply to the wood floor with a screech.

“No, want that,” Ivy huffs, once again reaching for her father’s steaming plate. She’s nearly close to getting her finger into the burning sauce so Harry has to scoot his chair out a bit so she can’t reach it anymore.

The parents give each other a knowing look because of what is surely about to come. The baby was struggling with being told ‘no’ as of late, as well as claiming nearly everything as ‘mine’. Tantrums were in their prime right now and they thought the pre-dinner nap would have helped.

Spoiler Alert: It doesn’t.

When Ivy realizes she’s no longer able to reach the food, she furrows her brow and pulls back her little fist, hitting at her father’s shoulder. It wasn’t often she tried to hit, likely because most times it landed her on the step for two minutes, but it’s like she knew they couldn’t do that here.

“Ivy,” Harry takes her small hands between his, “We do not hit, do you understand Daddy? S’not nice. If you can’t behave, you’re not getting ice cream before we go home.”

At that point, the little girl would normally calm down a bit and readjust because she really loved ice cream but it didn’t do anything to quell her anger tonight. She shakes her head, curly hair bouncing, before the tears start rolling.

“Should we just get this to go?” Y/N asks, knowing that the whole restaurant doesn’t want to hear the sobbing baby throwing a fit over not being able to dig her hands into her father’s dinner plate. 

“Probably best,” Harry grunts when Ivy wriggles and twists in her father’s grip with a frustrated whine, “She’s not goin’ to settle.”

“Down, let me down!” Ivy demands against her father’s grip, like she’s the one running the show. 

“Here, give her to me,” Y/N mutters, wrangling the toddler into a tight hold while Harry gets the waiter’s attention to get take away boxes and the check. He’s pulling out his wallet to slide out his black amex and put it on the table.

“Ivy, I’m going to put you down so I can get the diaper bag and your toys. Are you going to stay right next to mummy?” Y/N asks her daughter firmly, making sure her daughter’s little green eyes are meeting hers. 

Ivy nods but as soon as her feet hit the solid ground, she lets out a giggle and dashes from beside her mother. She doesn’t get very far because she’s running straight into the legs of another patron and tumbling on her bum.

She’s not at all hurt but takes it as an advantage to throw herself onto the floor, screaming and tears - the whole dramatic show because she’s not getting her way and well....she’s a two year old - that’s all the reason she needs, right?

Harry’s in full dad mode now, “I’ll get her to the car. Y’got this, love?”

Y/N nods, sighing at the loss of their nice dinner as her daughter has all eyes directed on their family - the last thing she wanted to happen. But she just focuses on shoveling the still hot foot into the plastic containers to take home.

“S’enough of that, Ivy. This isn’t how we act, hmm?” Harry hums, pulling his daughter off the floor and into his arms  - “What’s gotten into you, bug?”

Ivy sniffles, knuckling at her wet eyes,  “Home, daddy.”

“We’re taking you home, don’t you worry,” Harry chuckles, smiling softly when she tucks her head into the crook of his neck, thumb finding her lips. His large palm came to rub at her back and bounce her lightly.

When Y/N finally gets everything together, one of the waitresses - an older woman, stops by the table, “How old is your daughter?”

Y/N smiles, “Just turned two a month ago.”

The grey lady has a kind, knowing grin on her face, “What an age, huh? She looks like a little replica of your husband.”

The girl laughs, they can’t go anywhere without hearing that from someone, “Oh, believe me. They have the same attitude too,” She jokes, slinging the bag over her shoulder.

“I wish you two luck. Two is a very hard age, I have five kids of my own. Just appreciate it, even though the tantrums are a pain in the arse,” She says, patting Y/N on the shoulder before heading back to a table who was waiting on her.

---

Both the parents were frustrated, more so than they usually are with Ivy’s tantrums. They thought she’d simmer down once they’d gotten home but it had just revved up again when she realized she really wasn’t getting any ice cream.

“Shouldn’t have even promised her ice cream in the first place,” Y/N mutters with frustration as they stand near the staircase. Ivy sat on the step for two minutes in timeout, kicking her little feet against the marble.

“Right, because I knew she’d decide to have tantrums all night,” Harry shoots back, matching his wife’s tone. The screaming was echoing through the house, high-pitched and it just made you want to cover your ears from it.

Y/N rolls his eyes at him, motioning towards their daughter, “Well, this is your doing because you reminded her that she wasn’t getting it. You deal with it, I’m going to shower.”

“You’re not doing much to help anyways,” Harry hisses, their voices both low so that their daughter doesn’t hear - not like she would over the screaming match she’s having with herself. 

They rarely fought to be honest. This wasn’t even a fight - really. It was hard raising a two year old and they were learning as they went along. The couple was good at communication and working through their problems most of the time.

“I’m not doing much to help?” Y/N asks in disbelief, “Then if I’m no help at all, why don’t you put her down for bed? You don’t need me, obviously.”

Harry narrows his eyes at her, his hand gripping the railing with a hard grip, “Don’t go twistin’ my words, that’s not what I said. Now you’re just lookin’ for a fight.”

“Yeah, because on top of a fussy two year old - I want to deal with a childish husband. I’m surprised you're not on the stairs, cryin’ about ice cream too with how you’re acting,” Y/N laughs - the sound crawling under Harry’s skin with irritation at her fake carefree attitude when she’s just as annoyed as him.

“You’re being an even bigger brat than our daughter right now,” Harry tells her, trying to keep his voice at a low volume but it comes out louder than intended. He felt himself straighten up and kept direct eye contact with his wife.

Y/N’s lips form into a tight line before gritting out, “Do not raise your voice at me. We agreed that no matter how frustrated we got we wouldn’t do that in front of our daughter.”

“Then don’t act so immature, ever think of tha’?” Harry bites, hating the he hears his work voice being directed at his wife when he never wants that. 

“How am I being immature? You promised her something that she didn’t get, then reminded her that she’s not getting it. I’m allowed to be frustrated with you!” Y/N whisper-shouts, Ivy is now distracted by taking her little shoes off and watching them tumble down the stairs.

“I have so many better things I could be doing right now than stand here and fight with you over our daughter having a stupid tantrum. I’ll be in my office,” Harry replies, because when he doesn’t know what to do and refuses to admit he’s wrong - he falls back to his best excuse, work.

And he automatically regrets it when he sees a flash of hurt cross his wife’s face. Harry wants to swallow back those words and wrap his wife up into a hug. Never wanting to make her feel like his work is worth more of his time.

Deep down, they both know she knows that it’s not the truth but in the midst of the fight it doesn’t sting any less. He opens his mouth to apologize, to tell her that he’d rather put their daughter to bed together any night than be in his office.

But he can tell she’s already past the point of being pissed when she replies calmly, “I’ll put our baby to bed. Go work on whatever is more important than us, Mr. Styles.”

Harry wants to reach out and grab at her arm, tug her into his chest, and murmur in her hair how much he loves her more than anything. He said that because he knows it’s hurtful and it’s his only way to win an argument with her.

However, she’s moving up the stairs, scooping the somewhat calmed down baby into her arms and trudging up  without another look at her still brooding husband.

Harry hears Ivy shout back down the stairs, “Daddy, come on!” 

He hears his wife tell his daughter, “Daddy’s too busy with work, Ivy. S’just mummy.”

But that has Harry absolutely fuming, storming up the stairs after then, “Do not make it seem like I’m ever too busy for my daughter. That’s completely uncalled for, Y/N.”

Y/N doesn’t turn back to face him, instead keeps walking, and says with a monotone voice, “Oh, but you just said you had better things to be doing than dealing with your family. So go take care of your work, hot shot. I’ll take care of our daughter.”

“Why are you making it seem like I put my work before Ivy? I’ve literally never let that happen and you know that. You’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion because Ivy’s been having tantrums and you can’t put on your big girl pants and deal with them.”

That’s when Y/N spins around on her heel, letting Ivy down and encouraging her to go play in her room for a little before bedtime. Her face is turning red - which rarely happens unless they’re really about to get in an argument. 

“Big girl pants? Really, I’m at home dealing with her tantrums twenty-four seven. You get to come home from work and only deal with it half on the time. Do not act like you know how stressful it is to stay at home with a toddler in their terrible twos all day.”

“Do not act like it’s harder than running a multi-billion pound business,” Harry scoffs, his voice becoming lower with frustration with an argument that was going nowhere. He had a cocky lift to his voice that made her want to scream.

“Oh, because it’s so difficult half the time?  Last week, you got to go on your private jet to Paris for three days for business aka dinner and golfing while I sat at home alone!” Y/N raises her voice, angry tears forming over her lids.

“Sat in our 35 million pound house with a pool, playground, plenty of shops in town, unlimited money doesn’t sound like a hardship, love,” Harry replies, jaw clenching but his fingers itching to brush the tears away.

“You know what? It’s Sunday tomorrow. I’m going out. You watch her for the whole fucking day and see how easy it is. For now, enjoy the guest room,” Y/N spits out, storming down the hall to Ivy’s room to get her ready for bed.

“With pleasure,” He tells her, retreating back into his office and slamming the door. He wasn’t a fucking inadequate father. 

He never put work before his family. He knew it wasn’t easy being at home and as soon as he sat his arse in his leather chair - he realized what a douchebag he was being to his stressed out wife. 

Harry didn’t want to sleep in the guest room, he wanted to be spooned up next to his wife, whispering apologies for letting the stress of the week get to him. Remind her what an amazing partner and mum she is to him. How lucky he is.

The issue was - Harry had pride issues. He wasn’t one to admit defeat even when he should. He thrived on challenges so he was eager to show his wife that he’d have no problem taking on his terrible twos daughter.

He sneaks into his daughter’s room after she’s fast asleep in her crib, checking on her to make sure she’s okay before hesitantly entering their bedroom where his wife is fast asleep but a pile of clean clothes for him on the floor tells him she was serious about him sleeping in the guest room.

It was torture, not being able to be in the same bed as his wife. The love of his life. He thought about it multiple times - going in and groveling but his stubborn brain wouldn’t allow it. After such a long week, he was looking forward to sleeping in and his head hit the pillow in no time.

--

“Rise and shine,” His wife's voice wakes him up, it wasn’t with her normally cheery tone but with the same irritation as the night before. She definitely hadn’t magically forgiven him yet - dammit. Her voice is nearly drowned out by a fussy curly-haired baby.

“Wha’s wrong?” Harry grunts, sitting up to see Ivy still in her pajamas with sheet wrinkles across her face. Skin pink and warm from her nice, peaceful sleep. 

However, she decided to wake up today with a massive chip on her shoulder.

“Ivy’s upset because she can’t find her ballerina doll,” Y/N replies.

 Harry notices she is already fully dressed *** and made up for the day. “Might want to get up and help her find it. I’m heading out  like we agreed on.”

“Fine,” Harry replies with a tight lip, rubbing his eyes as he’s still half asleep. “Y’look pretty.”

“Thanks,” Y/N replies nonchalantly, leaning over to kiss Ivy on the forehead, “I’ll see you later bug, I love you.”

Ivy looks at her mother in betrayal as she leaves Harry to manage their little ball of fury. He tries to tug her in for a big, warm hug but she shrieks and screams at her father, “Ballerina!”

“Ssh, okay. We’ll go look for y’ballerina, dove. No need to yell, s’too early,” Harry grumbles, sitting up and automatically being pulled by the hand off the bed to search for this doll that could be anywhere in this thousands upon thousands of square foot home.

After extensive searches, Harry realizes that he’d left it on the roof of the car when he was tucking her into her carseat last night. The cute little plush doll is now mostly likely roadkill on the country stretch.

“Ivy, y’literally got a whole room dedicated to stuffed animals and dolls. Let’s go pick somethin’ from there, yes?” Harry tries, his daughter’s arms crossed and glaring at Harry like he had just killed her hopes and dreams.

“No! No!” The toddler absolutely wails, plopping her little diaper-clad bum on the ground before kicking her feet against the marble. She had herself worked up until her cheeks were cherry red and tears were staining her shirt.

Harry couldn’t lie - he’d only been watching her for about two hours and he was starting to feel anxiety creep up in his throat over what to do. It wasn’t that he couldn’t parent her, but it was a lot of crying and he hated seeing her upset.

“Why don’t we go eat some breakfast? Does that sound good, lovie?” Harry offers hopefully, having to contain a laugh at how much she looks like him when he’s angry. The little crease between her eyes, the green in her eyes sparkling a little darker than usual.

Her eyes peek up at her father, “Yes, Daddy.”

Harry sighs in relief, scrubbing at hand down his face, taking her into the kitchen, strapping her in the highchair before whipping up some cheesy eggs for her.

When he puts down the plate in front of her, he has to say she’s surprised when she slaps it off the tray and onto the floor, spilling everywhere. “No, want mummy’s breakfast.”

Her father looks at her with a comically bewildered expression before turning on his dad voice, “We do not throw things on the ground. Do you understand me, Ivy Elizabeth?”

Her full little lips are drawn into a tight pout as she tosses her baby fork on the ground to join the still warm eggs in a heap.  

“Mummy’s breakfast.”

The scolding goes in one ear and out the other, she doesn’t acknowledge her father but continues on her demands.

He caves after trying to no avail to decipher what ‘mummy’s breakfast’ means.

Ivy threw her eggs on the ground. She’s demanding mummy’s breakfast.

She’s hated eggs for the past two weeks now. Vanilla yogurt with diced strawberries and blueberries in her red baby bowl.

He does as she says, arranges a nice little bowl of yogurt with the fruit. He couldn’t find the red bowl so he substituted for a blue one. 

It results in the yogurt also being smacked to the ground. 

She threw that on the ground too.

Did you put it in a red bowl?

I couldn’t find it, just put it in a blue bowl

She only wants to eat breakfast out of red bowls right now

Harry groans, he didn’t know his daughter was this difficult about breakfast time. He was usually gone by the time she’d woken up for the day. Y/N usually let him sleep in a bit on the weekends until ten or so.

After digging for the specific red bowl, doing up her breakfast again - Ivy happily begins eating until it drips down her sleep clothes, rubbed all over her cheeks, and it even manages up in her tangled locks.

“S’that just so yummy, Vee?” Harry hums after she’s finished. “Looks like it’s bath time.”

He really should have guessed at this point when she shakes her head and squeaks, “No!”

“Yes, s’bathtime,” Harry says sternly, traipsing upstairs with the wriggling toddler who is doing everything in her power to fight against her father’s hold. 

“No, no, no. Ballerina,” Ivy brings it up again, making it a near impossible task for Harry to wrangle her out of her clothes and diaper. 

While he’s running the bath, she darts from the bathroom and through the hallways, right towards the grand staircase where the baby gate isn’t closed. Harry really really didn’t want to yell at his daughter but she could seriously get hurt.

“Ivy Elizabeth Styles, if you don’t get your little bum over to Daddy right now, you’re going on the step and y’not having playtime at all,” Harry orders loudly, but breathing a sigh of relief when his daughter skids in her tracks to a halt.

The little girl turns on her heels, eyes wide in fright at her dad’s raised voice - which rarely ever happened unless she really wasn’t listening. She begins to cry but not in her now typical anger-induced haze but in a legitimate sad wail.

His heart aches as his daughter toddles obediently back over to him with her little head hung low in regret, “Daddy, hold me?”

Harry can’t deny her so he scoops her up into the crook of his arm, “M’sorry for yellin’, bug. But y’need to be good for Daddy? You could have gotten really hurt and that would have made Daddy sad, okay?”

Her eyes are watery as she looks up at him, her hand curling around his neck before burying her still yogurt-sticky face into his skin, hiccuping with sad whines, “Sad Daddy.”

“Mhm, now are you going to be nice and get a bath f’me? Y’dirty, bubby,” Harry smiles down at her to brighten back up her mood and it works because her dimples pop out of her cheeks and she flashes her small blocky baby teeth.

Ivy surprisingly does well in the bathtub, allowing her father to get her all cleaned up until she accidentally opens her eyes and gets baby soap in them, it’s another round of tears that cannot be controlled.

Harry totes the sobbing toddler into a cute little Moschino onesie and brings her into their bedroom. He’s so fucking exhausted and it was barely noon. His stress level was near a hundred as he couldn’t keep her from being pissed off for more than twenty minutes at a time.

Luckily, it seems like the screaming and crying for the last how many hours had taken a toll on her because as soon as she sprawled on her stomach on Harry’s chest, she’s out like a light. The cutest small snores coming from her as she smacks her lips together while she dreams.

He gives her a few minutes to fall into a deeper sleep before tiptoeing her into her nursery and laying her very carefully into her crib. She doesn’t wake, just whimpers softly and turns on her side, away from her father.

When he’s sure she’ll be okay, he goes back into their bedroom, and well...he just breathes. He didn’t realize how high his anxiety had been up to this point and his whole morning had been nothing but trying to get his daughter calm. He didn’t even have one moment to think about himself.

It really wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate Y/N being a stay at home mum - of course, he did. He already knew how bloody amazing and strong she was as a person, he didn’t need this to prove what he already knew. It was his stubbornness to not decline a challenge and they both knew that was the case.

Y/N really didn’t think that Harry doubted her abilities. He nearly spent most of his days telling her how proud he was of her and her abilities as a partner and mum. It doesn’t mean it didn’t sting when he brought up his job compared to hers.

Harry’s in his own world of thoughts that he doesn’t notice a figure leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, “You got everything under control, H?”

His eyes darted up to meet his wife’s, “Not really. She’s a little terror,” He jokes (kind of).

“It’s easy compared to your job, right?” Y/N asks but it’s obviously rhetorical. She drops a few shopping bags on the floor before leaning down to unstrap her high heels, kicking them off along with throwing off the blazer to the floor.

“I never said your job was easy. Y’puttin’ words in my mouth,” Harry argues, sitting up straight and moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, you’re right. It’s just not as hard as your job,” Y/N huffs, unbuttoning the tight jeans and shucking them off her thighs. She didn’t have any idea what she was doing to him right now, his mouth nearly watering when her thighs jiggle a bit.

“You’re right, it’s not as hard as my job,” Harry replies, studying his wife’s face when she looks up in surprise - that he was really going to take the fight that far.

“Wow, you re-”

“It’s not as hard as my job, it’s harder,” Harry murmurs, reaching out to pull his wife to stand between his legs, her looking down at him with her hands on his shoulders. “

What I’m doin’ is nothin’ compared to your job. Y’raising our little baby, shaping her into a good person, spending every moment of y’day with her, giving up a lot of who you are for her. That’s more difficult than what I do any day.”

“Har-”

“M’sorry, lovie. Y’know I think you’re the most amazing mum and wife. You do everything for the baba and I. I shouldn’t have taken my anger from my week out on you yesterday and then said the things that I did,” Harry apologizes, his face sincere and open as he leans forward to nuzzle at his wife’s stomach.

When her hands come to run through his unruly locks, he knows he’s forgiven, “I appreciate how hard you work too. I really do, H. You’re the best husband and daddy to Ivy we could ask for. I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you as well.”

“Do you ever feel like I put work before you or Ivy?” Harry asks softly against her thin tank top, his hands come to massage at her full hips. There was a hint of insecurity in his tone that made Y/N’s heart sink a bit.

“No, I really don’t. I was just...I was just upset and I knew that would upset you. I’m sorry, baby,” Y/N murmurs softly, leaning down to kiss at the top of his head.

“Y’going to let me show you how sorry I am, how good of a wife and mum you are?” Harry drawls, his hands going to tug up the fabric of her top and humming appreciatively when she lifts her arms to let him do so.

“Yeah, remind why I married your crabby ass,” Y/N teases playfully, reaching behind herself to let her bra fall down to the crooks of her elbows before tossing it to the floor with everything else. As she’s doing that, Harry takes it upon himself to shimmy off her panties.

“Y’sayin’ you just married me ‘cause I fuck you good?” Harry grunts, standing up suddenly and pulling her up into his arms until her legs are wrapped around his waist and arms around his neck.

“Mmm, mostly. Also for your bank account was pretty good-looking too,” She lies blatantly but he still rewards her with a bruising kiss to her lips as he backs her against the wall so he can use one hand to tug down his running shorts.

“I’d still have married you, best decision I’ve ever made,” Harry says, sobering up from their playfulness. He slows down to be careful as he slides up into her warm heat, her head falling back with a thud against the wall.

“Harry,” She moans approvingly, heels of her feet digging into his backside to goad him into moving faster, “Right there.”

“So bloody in love with you. Please tell me y’know that baby, c’mon, tell me,” Harry begs, leaning down to smear kisses against her collarbone.

“I know, H. You’re so good to me, I love you,” Y/N whines and Harry knows that whine like the back of his hand, she needs more. He reaches down to rub tight, rough circles against her swollen bud until she’s tensing and coming.

“You feel so good, every single time. Don’t know how you do it, s’like you were made just for me,” Harry chokes out, stuttering and coming with his lips suckling a deep spot onto her breast as he rides it out.

After they redress and are cuddled on the bed, murmuring sweet little apologizes and affirmations of love, they interrupted by an angry squeak from the baby monitor - signaling their daughter’s woken up.

“Ballerina!”

hope you enjoyed. please inbox me what you think, like, reblog.

[inmyownlaine]

John Murphy x Reader Mini Series: My Favorite T-Shirt

GIF// SONG//

Part: 2/5

Warnings: Angst

Artist: Jake Scott

Summary: Murphy finally gets the chance to tell, and show you, how he feels about you after you calm him down from a nightmare.

────────────────────────────────────────────

You were putting your hands up under my shirt, making fun of the way I was breathing...

Murphy’s home was now yours. Ever since he mustered the courage to ask you to stay, you found the bravery to never leave. Whether thunder boomed overhead or the heat sweltered into the night, you found yourself laying beside him. Wrapped up in his blanket wearing one of his shirts. 

And just like every night, when the sun finally went down, the two of you stopped talking. Took your places in his bed. Back to back, just a sliver of space in between. Both of you nervously lying in the darkness, questioning what the other was thinking. Worrying about boundaries. Obsessed with the thought of each other. But never having the boldness to ask.

Your eyes had just closed when Murphy let out a panicked yell. Bolting upright, scrambling around in the bed. Trying to figure out where he was. You sat up beside him, reaching out blindly. You caught his shoulder and gripped it gently, sweat transferring to your palm

“Murphy,” you said lightly. He only breathed heavily in response. “It was just a dream.”

He remained in silence as he composed himself. Slowed down his breathing. Ruffled his hair. Shifted uncomfortably back and forth. “Aren’t dreams supposed to be- nice?”

“There are good and bad dreams. Was yours a-”

“Nightmare,” he interrupted harshly. It caused your lips to curl inward. Embarrassed for not calculating the severity of his imagination.

“About what?” you asked.

“This- wonderful place,” he mocked. “I can’t even escape it when I sleep.”

You felt strongly that the time was now. To make a move. To let Murphy know how you felt about him. How he made you feel even with all the turmoil happening around you. He deserved it now more than ever.

“I know what you mean,” you admitted. “I used to have bad dreams all the time. About being killed. Or tortured. Or just- being scared.”

You could feel him staring at you. Wishing more than anything you could see his face. To gauge how he felt. To tell you whether you should keep going or stop altogether. It would either give you the confidence to press forward or continue to hold it all in.

“Used to?” Murphy pressed.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Before you.”

Murphy shuffled closer to you. His bare leg faintly pressed against yours. A delicate, yet intimate gesture, that insisted you go on. To tell him everything that once weighed you down, only lifted by his own calloused hands.

“You mean that?” he questioned.

“When we landed on the Ground, I tried my hardest not to fall asleep. I’d just lay awake in bed, stuck with my thoughts. It was scary enough in real life but to relive everything in your consciousness-” you rambled on, remembering how painful it had been to be separated from your family. To find out that you had been sent here without knowing the possibility of surviving. That in everyone’s eyes you were nothing but a delinquent child.

That all changed in a split second rain storm. “But when you invited me to stay, I didn’t have to watch my back. And for the first time in months, I actually slept. With no gnawing feeling of being watched or hunted. I just let myself be. It was the best I had felt in a long time.”

You couldn’t tell what Murphy was doing. There was a break in conversation as he mulled this over in his own muddled brain. He had not felt safer with you. In fact, he felt a larger burden to be a protector. To have his guard up in case anything threatened to hurt you.

But he did feel important. He went from someone nobody wanted around to the only person you wanted to be with. And though that meant giving up some type of comfort, he would do it every single time. It was worth it to be loved through someone else’s eyes.

Of course, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the same feeling he held when you had first stayed over. Letting his mind wander to uncharted waters. Wanting nothing more than to trace the dimples in the small of your back. To count every single mark and blemish that coated the length of your spine. He knew he could do it forever and never get tired. He would just simply start over.

And that shirt. It was his favorite by far. But not because of the way it looked on him. It was everything about you. The way it fell just past your thigh. How it draped across your body like an ancient goddess. Hiding the frame of your body yet hugging to you in every perfect curve.

Murphy started first by lightly running his hand down your arm. You gasped sharply, but didn’t shy away. Reciprocated with a dancing of fingertips across his thigh. He could hardly hold himself back as he dove towards you. Smashing your lips together in a fevered guess. One that he made correctly.

He kissed you hard. A pressure that took off the anxious build up in the depths of his stomach. Trying his best to convey how long he had been concealing his feelings. And how relieved he was to finally get it out.

Murphy pulled away and set his forehead on top of yours. Breathing heavily, you squinted in the dark. Attempting to catch a glimpse of any facial feature. It was in vain as he nudged you gently to the side.

You rolled over and placed your hands under your cheek. There was no way you were going to sleep now. A smile plastered across your face as you reveled in the moment.

Without warning, Murphy wrapped his arm around you. Slid his hand underneath the hem of the shirt you were wearing. Played around with it before committing. Finally placing his hand on your hip, causing a cold chill to travel throughout your body. A harsh exhale escaped as it reached your throat.

Murphy let out a laugh as he buried his face in the back of your head. “What?” you asked, slightly embarrassed by your actions. Hoping he didn’t catch it.

“Nothing, nothing,” he assured you. “Are you cold?”

“Stop,” you whined, drawing out the word as long as you could. Turning into the pillow to try and hide from him.

“I’m just concerned. You’re shivering like you’re cold but you’re breathing like you ran a marathon,” he teased.

“I’m going to bed now.”

“Yeah, good luck. Sleeping when you’re bothered isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world. I would know,” he said. 

You couldn’t help your curiosity. Rapid fire images of unchaste scenarios flicking through your mind like an old picture film. Murphy being bold made you bold, too. Gave you the strength to play right along with him. “Meaning?”

He let out one more laugh before yawning. Tightening his grip on your waist. Melding perfectly into your body. Leaving you with a simple line that sent tingles shooting like fireworks.

“There’s a reason I sleep with my back to you.”

[after-witch]

In Sickness [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Title: In Sickness [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Synopsis: You were not often alone with the demon lord who took you captive. Then again, you were not often touched by the demon lord who took you captive, either.

Word Count: 2029

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of illness

You were not often alone with the demon lord who took you captive.

Then again, you were not often touched by the demon lord who took you captive. Yet here he was, bent over you, hands wringing out a rag he’d just dipped in a pail of river water. You barely register his fingers glancing against your skin, the slight sharpness of his nail edges, as he lays the damp rag on your forehead.

You can’t help it. At the touch of the damp rag, you sigh, soft and pleased. The coolness is blissful, a brief respite from the fever that has been wearing you down for days.

“You are a nuisance,” he mumbles, grimacing at droplets of river water that dribbled their way onto the elevated mat he’d set you on. To keep you away from the cold ground, you supposed, but you hadn’t the ability to care about his unusual generosity.

Once it had become clear that your illness was no minor trifle, he’d sent Rin away with Jaken as unwilling, grumpy but admittedly loyal protector. Where they were, you didn’t know and truthfully, you didn’t have the strength to care. It was hard enough to muster up the energy to care about your own self, drenched with sweat yet wracked with bouts of shivers that alternated with fevers that made your dreams terribly real.

It had started small. A tickle in your throat, a bit of weariness. You were tired, more so than usual, more so than you expected. But it wasn’t until the fever came and refused to leave, until your legs became red and swollen and could no longer carry you, until you started to become delirious, that Sesshoumaru had taken direct action. Jaken and Rin were gone, and you were taken somewhere. A cave? It was a shelter, at least, something more permanent than the campfires and group sleeps you were used to in recent months.

And Sesshoumaru had tended to you, quietly, without much in the way of conversation. You slept most of the time, half-awakening to hear him grinding medicine and waiting until it was placed on your swollen legs, or in your mouth mixed with hot water, to fall back into a listless sleep. You wonder how long you will be able to recall the feeling of his hands on you, the unusual way he sometimes bent over you and stared, checking your breathing, feeling your forehead.

It was intimate and uncomfortable, but you couldn’t be bothered to fight it.

You were just so sick. You were just so tired.

Yet you weren’t exactly a stranger to fatigue, to stress, particularly since the day you’d been forced to go with the demon. Stress dragged you down, often making you wish you could sleep for days, a luxury that was not afforded due to the frequently traveling nature of your captor. 

That day that came back to you so often in your dreams, and was now a memory that ebbed and flowed with your fevers.

Did you talk about that day, in your feverish ramblings? Sesshoumaru acknowledged what you said sometimes only with passive noises, either uncaring or not wanting to encourage your incoherent words, intent on making you better and resuming the original course.

You really were a nuisance. So why did he keep you? You’d never asked him this out of fear. You’d certainly never questioned his decision to keep you alive, much less questioned why he wanted you in the first place. Why he agreed to the wild offering thrown before him.

Your village elders had begged the passing demon lord Sesshoumaru to lay waste to a band of lesser demons that plagued the village for years. Men, women, children, even animals--taken and slaughtered in unspeakable ways. Sometimes even killed in their homes, partially eaten. It was not unusual to wake in the morning to piercing cries from mothers finding their children mangled in their beds, or hear husbands wail in agony at the loss of much-beloved wives on the way home from fetching water.

You remember the day so clearly. Like the rest of the people in the village, you were watching from your home, peering out the door like a child, as the elders got down on their knees and begged for assistance from a demon who’d passed along the outskirts of the village.

You remember the shock of his long white hair, his luxurious clothing, his imposing presence that seemed strong enough to make you shake even from behind the safety of the doorway.

He didn’t even bother saying no. He’d simply glared at them as if they were dirt and began to walk away. Then one of the elders pivoted on his knees, spitting out words that would turn out to seal your fate: “We will give you one of our women as an offering! Please, o great lord!”

Still, he did not stop, and the elder let out a shaky cry. Then the elder stood on wobbling knees and looked wildly around the village until his eyes landed on your half-open door, your face barely peeking out of it. He was a man who’d witnessed your birth, a man who’d once given you a special treat for free when you tripped and skin your knee as a child, a man who had serious conversations with you in recent weeks about finding a husband as surely someone so dutiful and kind did not wish to remain with her parents forever.

He was also a man who’d run to your home, quick as you’d ever seen him, and yanked you out of the doorway until you fumbled and fell over on the ground. His hands were sweaty with fear yet they clamped around your wrist like a weight.

“This one will make an excellent servant! She can cook and clean and embroider! Or you may have her--or, or kill her! Whatever you wish! Please, please,” he’d begged again, bowing low while keeping an iron grip on your wrist.

You remember the sound of wind in your ears. You remember the feeling of pain in your knees, in your elbow, where you’d fallen hard. You remember the soft scratch of the door opening, the way your neck twisted around to see your parents and brother hiding behind one another, simply watching you. You remember the look on their faces, confused and scared yet saying nothing. Why didn’t they pull you back in?

And then you remember the sound of footsteps approaching. It was the demon. You looked up and he loomed over you, staring impassively at your form. He didn’t bother glancing at the elder, who was now trembling as much as you.

“Very well,” he said quietly, yet with a tone that was unmistakably firm. “She is mine. In exchange, I will kill some vermin for you.”

A sound rushed through the villagers from behind their doors. Sometimes when the wind blows just right, you’re reminded of it. It was a murmur, a gasp, a collective sound that was relief and sadness all at once. They would be saved from the demons at the expense of one of their own. A sacrifice.

You remember pulling on your arm, crying out something. Did you cry for your mother or your father? You can’t remember now. It didn’t matter. They had already shut the door, and the sound of your sister crying from behind it was the only noise that came through.

Someone tied a rope around your wrists. You kicked, and the rope was jerked until you were standing on numb legs. You had no choice but to walk, to be dragged, as the demon held onto the other end and simply left the village without another word. You cried, you begged, you feverishly cried out to the people watching from behind the doors, to the elders who clutched their hands but watched you leave all the same.

He took you. But he didn’t kill you, or have you, or even make you a tireless servant to his demonic whims. He simply expected you to pull your weight, or at least, that’s what the green imp--Jaken, you’d learned--told you was the expectation. So you helped to cook, you helped to mend clothes, you minded Rin. Nothing more or less than the others were expected to do.

You were kept bound when not doing your chores for a few weeks. When he’d taken the rope off, you’d waited for the moment and run--not that you got far or got anything than a few more weeks with the rope for your troubles.

You hadn’t tried to run for a while. It did no good. And the areas you’d traveled through were sometimes riddled with demons or wild animals that would surely kill someone such as yourself with little effort, should you try to make it on your own.

With Sesshoumaru, you were fed. You got enough rest. You were protected. Not that you didn’t wish every day to return home, to sit with your family for meals, to chase your sister around and tease her to get her to laugh when she felt blue. Not that you didn’t hate being sometimes treated like a pest, like a dog, when it wasn’t your choice to be here in the first place. But at least you were still alive, still able to hope you would see your family again some day.

A sigh from lips that weren’t your own draws you out of your memories, sweeping away the memory of that day and every day of captivity since like dirt being beaten out o f fabric.

You open your eyes, grateful for the soft light in the cave, and see Sesshoumaru sitting across from you, his back up against the stone wall. Your head feels clearer, less foggy, less hot, thanks to the rag and you decide to sit up a bit. Laying down all the time makes you feel dizzy. He watches with no change in expression as you wiggle yourself into a higher position, wiggling yourself back on the mat until you’re resting against the wonderfully cool stone.

You stare at each other for a few moments. The sound of the fire he’d set up further in the cave is low, crackling. You try to imagine him gathering wood, crouching low to do the mundane work that you and Rin and Jaken often did, and it seems ridiculous.

You try to imagine these things in order to avoid asking a question that has been on your mind since the moment the ropes had chafed your wrists, the moment you’d been forced to stumble after him.

But you can’t avoid it forever, and finally, you speak.

“Why did you take me?”

You would never dare to ask this question if the others were here, if Sesshoumaru hadn’t been tending to you, intimate and up close, for days. But the fever and the strangeness of the situation has made you feel clearheaded in a bold, perhaps too much so, way.

He simply stares at you for a few moments, and you think that he will choose to ignore you until his gaze shifts almost imperceptibly to the side.

“You were offered to me.”

It is your turn to offer a passive noise. The answer he gives is is nothing. At least nothing that makes sense to you, makes sense of your situation.

“Why didn’t you kill me, then?” Surely there was a reason, since he didn’t make you a hapless servant, either. “I was supposed to be a sacrifice.” Or you were meant to be. Instead he’s made you something altogether in-between. You weren’t worked to the bone or treated terribly, but you couldn’t leave. You weren’t killed, but you weren’t any more useful than his willing companions, either.

You don’t get the answer you wanted. Or any answer at all. Instead, he merely scoffs, and stands up to leave the cave. He pauses at the entrance, waiting until you turn towards him to speak.

“I will not take long.” He gestures towards the mat with one hand. “Go to sleep. And refrain from asking such stupid questions when you wake up.”

[astradrifting]

GRRM really created so many parallels and foreshadow using the DoD characters that honestly we could just figure the asoiaf ending by analyzing it. My favorite is the Aegon III-D@ny parallels, the fact that one of his closest allies was a face-scarred Master of coin Lannister who ended as Hand to Bran' parallel character just make it so obvious its funny.

Oh my god I didn’t even realise Tyland Lannister was initially on the greens’ side! I’m not super fond of Tyrion ending up as Hand, but you’re right that it’s so obviously meant to reference him. There’s so many parallels that it’s a little crazy. I don’t want to say that the second Dance will end exactly as the first did, it’d be a little too neat if history repeated entirely, but you can see so many echoes of it even in the show’s bastardised ending.

“The broken, shattered realm suffered for a while yet, but the Dance of the Dragons was done. Now what awaited the realm was the False Dawn, the Hour of the Wolf, the rule of the regents, and the Broken King.”

(TWOIAF, Aegon II)

I’m not sure what the False Dawn is going to parallel to, it refers to the period of time after Aegon II’s death but before Lord Stark got to King’s Landing, when people thought that peace had finally come. It kind of brings to mind the War for the Dawn, though personally I think that the threat of the Others will be resolved before the Dance is over. The Hour of the Wolf is obviously about House Stark’s rise back to power, and the Broken King is Bran - though if he actually becomes known as Bran the Broken I might end up committing violence ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. 

The parts about Lord Corlys Velaryon are why I’m so hopeful that Jon’s book ending will be completely different from the show’s. He’s arrested for Aegon II’s death by Cregan Stark, even though Cregan had previously declared for Rhaenyra, because as TWOIAF puts it, “to kill a cruel and unjust king in lawful battle was one thing. But foul murder, and the use of poison, was a betrayal against the very gods who had anointed him.”

Corlys didn’t deny his guilt, and expressed no regret. “What I did, I did for the good of the realm. I would do the same again. The madness had to end.”

Cregan Stark declared him to be guilty of murder, regicide, and high treason, and he was sentenced to execution. But many spoke in his defence, even people who had fought against him in the Dance. Baela and Rhaena Targaryen, Corlys’ granddaughters and Aegon III’s half-sisters, convinced Aegon to issue an edict pardoning Lord Velaryon, which Alysanne Blackwood then convinced Cregan to let stand. Lord Velaryon was pardoned and even restored to his offices and honours, made one of the king’s regents and given a place on the small council.

Corlys’ words definitely could be Jon’s as well, a much more in-character declaration post-D@ny’s death than the drivel GoT tried to feed us. I was worried for a bit that this would be how Tyrion is let off scot-free, but Baela and Rhaena, who were vital to his release, are such obvious Arya and Sansa stand-ins, and they’re certainly not going to expend any effort in helping Tyrion. So Corlys’ circumstances more likely lays the groundwork for how Jon will be freed and remain in political power, while Tyland frankly inexplicably becoming Aegon III’s Hand after he was in favour of brutally killing him parallels Tyrion managing to fail up, as a way of reconciling the old regime with the new one.

This makes Tyrion becoming Hand more palatable IMO. Either Jon and Tyrion both should have been punished or neither should have been punished, not the travesty where Tyrion gets everything he’s ever wanted while Jon is exiled to a Watch with no purpose and a Wall that’s already half-collapsed, so what exactly can it protect against? I suppose they were afraid of seemingly rewarding Jon for killing d@ny, especially if pol!Jon had been revealed, but most people noticed how nonsensical his ending was, and it just led to ‘Bloodraven/Bran is the real villain’ takes anyway.

(Side note: Asha/Yara basically still being loyal to D at the end annoys me so much, and made no sense. Jon did more to help save her by giving Theon that pep talk than D@ny did. Maybe it was a leftover from her taking Victarion’s role in the story, but in no reasonable world is anyone going to listen to the Ironborn who brought the Fire threat over in the first place.)

Of course Tyland Lannister isn’t actually Hand for long, given that he dies barely two years later from Winter Fever, feared and hated, alone except for a maester and King Aegon. It might be an indication that Tyrion will face a similar fate, that he’ll die after he’s seemingly won, exactly what he threatened Cersei with:

“A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid."

(ACOK, Tyrion XII)

So that I can stop talking about Tyrion, here’s some facts about Rhaena and Baela that are obviously meant to reference Sansa and Arya, so much so that it feels a little bit like GRRM is winking and going “See what I did there? Huh? Huh? Did you see??”:

- their descriptions: “Rhaena was slender and graceful; Baela was lean and quick; Rhaena loved to dance; Baela lived to ride...” + “Baela was wild and willful”, “more boyish than ladylike”, and kept her hair cropped short as a boy’s

- Rhaena spent most of the Dance in the Vale, where she lived in relative comfort as the ward of Lady Jeyne Arryn. Baela was a dragonrider and so moved between Dragonstone and Driftmark, but was captured on Dragonstone when Aegon II descended upon it

- Rhaena was favoured to be queen after her brother, considered more qualified than her wild sister

- Baela liked to spend time with “unsuitable companions” she would bring to the Red Keep - including a comely juggler, a blacksmith’s apprentice whose muscles she admired (!!!), a legless beggar, a pair of twin girls from a brothel, an entire troupe of mummers once

- After her brother’s regents tried to marry her to a lord 40 years older than her, Baela escaped the Red Keep by climbing out of a window, trading clothes with a washerwoman, then walking right out of the front gate. She ran away to Driftmark and married her supposed cousin (though more likely he was her half-uncle), the legitimised bastard Alyn Velaryon, which might have had me worried about j0nrya if Alyn weren’t best known for being a daring sailor who went on many voyages, including sailing the Sunset Sea, until he was finally lost at sea during Aegon IV’s reign. Alyn’s mother was also called Mouse, for being “small, quick, and always underfoot.”

- another fun fact about Alyn: he’s a bad haggler, and had to agree to a high ransom and many concessions in order to get Prince Viserys returned to Westeros. This automatically disqualifies him as a Jon stand-in, because as we all know, Jon Snow can haggle like the best of fishwives.

- My absolutely favourite detail that has my jonsa heart singing - Rhaena was more dutiful than her sister and would have married a man that the king and council chose, saying that as long as he was “kind and gentle and noble, I know that I shall love him.” She was able to marry her first choice, whom the regents didn’t immediately approve of but that they ultimately accepted  - Ser Corwyn Corbray, the brother of the Lord Protector of the Realm, a second son (!) whose late father had gifted him the Valyrian steel sword Lady Forlorn (!!!)

And as a treat for @istumpysk, some similarities between Rickon and Viserys II!

- the youngest child of their family

- separated from their older brother after they were forced to flee their home, trying to get to safety while their other brothers and mother were at war

- worshipped their oldest (half-)brothers, but were closer to the brother nearest their age

- spends the war stuck on an island, populated by people closely linked to their family’s origins - Skagosi are descended mostly from the First Men, while Viserys was on Lys, where the blood of Old Valyria still runs strong

- sought by/held hostage by a powerful and wealthy family, who will treat them well but whose intentions are dubious

- will be brought back from exile by an upjumped bastard/commoner from a port town who was raised to lordship and became their monarch’s chief admiral

- after they are returned, long after the wars and crises, is happily welcomed as the heir to their older brother’s throne (shhhhh just let me have this, let the baby live)

Thanks for the ask!

[acciowests]

For modern world elorcan

Anything to do with babies. Lorcan and a baby please

i love daddy!lorcan so i hope this fits all your fluffy baby needs!!

Little Princess Lochan

WORD COUNT: 1202

SUMMARY: The Lochan family has a new addition, and this time it's a girl. Marion is the sweetest little baby and though Lorcan would never admit it, he's absolutely smitten. And while Cal is besotted with her, Octavian may need a little more convincing.

After five years with boys, nine months waiting impatiently and 14 hours of labour, Lorcan finally had a daughter. It wasn't that he didn't adore his boys; Cal and Octavian were his world, but they were mommy's boys through and through and he wanted a daddy's little girl. For their third and final baby, he truly wouldn't have minded if they had a boy again. Elide had even teased that he could only give her boys. But when the sonographer told them the fetus was female, he was overjoyed.

It had been three days, 72 hours since Marion Lochan had arrived. Marion Lochan The Second, he supposed, the pair having named her after Elide's mother. He was now laid on the bed, his chest bare and Marion in nothing but her diaper as she slept on his chest, Lorcan's large hand upon her back. Skin to skin contact was something that they kept up after leaving the hospital, having a few times a day where they would connect with their newborn in the simplest way possible. Elide was asleep, having hardly slept a wink for weeks. She was hardly conscious unless it was for feeding, both herself and Marion, changing clothes or bathing. Cal and Tavy were at the end of the bed, silent in their awe as they watched Marion sleep. He adored his little family, the four people who made his stone heart melt beyond belief.

A whine slipped from Marion's lips, her tiny hands fisting against her father's chest as she began to cry. Lorcan was up immediately, hushing the boys as they followed after him. With Elide needing peace and quiet, they made their way downstairs. Cal grabbed Marion's blanket, passing it to his father who smiled gratefully.

"What's wrong, baby girl?" he cooed, settling on the sofa, the boys climbing up either side of him. Cupping her head and laying her against his thighs, he bundled her up in the fluffy material, bringing her back to his chest.

"Were you cold, Mari? I'm sorry princess, Daddy's gonna make you all nice and snuggled now," he told her, brushing kisses to the tiny layer of hair atop her head, his hand warming her back in tight circles.

Cal pressed a kiss to her cheek, nuzzling against Lorcan's side as he watched his baby sister. The five-year-old was a lot more accustomed to their new addition, having already experienced changes with Octavian, who was now three. He couldn't believe how quick they grew up.

"She's looking at me, Daddy!" Cal gasped, a grin curling his lips as he stroked the back of her head with his palm. Lorcan looked down, Mari's eyes wide and curious as she looked in the direction of her brother. He turned to Octavian, the toddler's brows in a slight frown as he watched the scene before him. He was still yet to hold his sister, and while Lorcan and Elide didn't want to force him, his behaviour was becoming tedious.

"Come say hello, Tav," Lorcan smiled, "Mari wants to see you."

Cal moved back, helping Octavian up onto the sofa and into Marion's line of sight. His small hand rested on Lorcan's arm as he shuffled forward on his knees, his voice small and sweet as he whispered, "Hello Mari."

Her small, black lashes fluttered, blinking at Octavian as he sat before her, his small finger reaching to stroke her cheek. Lorcan pressed another kiss to Marion's head and Tavy copied, his little peck wetting her cheek.

"So soft, Dada," Tavy smiled, reaching with his hand again and wiping her cheek where he had kissed.

Lorcan couldn't stop his smile, seeing his two youngest together, "She is, isn't she? Would you like to hold her? I promise I'll take her away when you're ready or if she starts to cry."

Octavian thought about it, sitting back and tilting his head until his chin dropped in the slightest nod, "Yes, please."

He could have cried with joy to hear those words. He almost felt bad that Elide was asleep, missing this first moment of them together. Lorcan moved forward, one hand on Marion's head and the other on her backside. Tavy slipped his legs down, hanging over the sofa as his arms formed a cradle. Tears prickled his eyes as he lowered Mari into her brother's arms, watching Tavy light up with joy as she settled against him.

"Cal," Lorcan called, turning toward Cal who was also emersed in his siblings, "Go get Daddy's phone, for me. It's on my bedside table, but don't wake Mommy up, okay?"

"Kay," he whispered, feet pattering as he left the room and headed back up the stairs. Lorcan watched him as he climbed each step, hand on the bannister as he went, and disappeared onto the second floor.

"She's sleeping," Tavy whispered, turning his attention back to the two people before him.

He gave a smile, sitting up on the sofa next to Tavy and ruffling his head of chocolate brown curls, "It's because she feels safe with you. You're her big brother, Tavs. You and Cal are her protectors."

"I love her," he smiled, fingers rubbing her arm beneath the blanket.

Lorcan hated how easily his tears came then, "You do? Well, she loves you so much."

Octavian's smile was brighter than any star. "Love you, Mari," he whispered, this time directed at the bundle in his arms.

Two sets of footsteps sounded on the stairs, Cal coming first with Lorcan's phone in hand and Elide following behind, her hair a mess from sleep but still looking as beautiful as ever. He couldn't help but sigh as Cal came rushing toward him, "What did I say about waking Mommy up, buddy?"

Leaving the phone on the arm of the chair, Cal moved back to Elide, arms up as she lifted him onto her hip. She pressed a kiss to his hair, rocking him gently, "I was already awake, promise."

Lorcan took hold of his phone, letting out a hum, "I was gonna take a photo of Tavy and Marion for you. At least you can see it in person now."

Her smile was slightly lopsided, exhaustion glazing in her eyes as she settled beside him on the sofa, Cal climbing from her lap to sit on the other side of Octavian. Resting his phone between his thighs, he wrapped an arm around Elide's waist, pulling her against him and brushing a kiss to her brow.

"All the sleep in the world isn't worth missing this moment," she whispered, winking at her son as Tavy looked to her with a toothy grin. A few moments passed, the Lochan family bathing in the silence before Elide rested her head on his shoulder, a hand against his chest and eyes fluttering shut as she drifted off again.

Pressing his cheek against her head, Lorcan draped his other hand over her legs, pulling her into his lap so she was more comfortable. Both of his girls were asleep now, Marion still content in Octavian's arms as he and Cal watched over her. They were whole now. He hadn't realised it before, but with all five of them, everything was finally perfect.

* * * 

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[kim-miyeon]

Hell Above - Chapter Fifteen

PAIRINGS: Hwang Hyunjin X Female Reader

WARNINGS: Series contains mature content, read at your own discretion. Mafia!AU, explicit language, suggestive language, graphic scenes, weapons, mild abuse, angst, 18+.

WORD COUNT: 4.3K

Previous | Next

Everything’s Not Alright, and I Would Rather...

The day had come.

The roar of the vehicle drowned in your ears as you sat back and watched as the pedestrians walked by the hospital. You grew envious that you were unable to have such a normal life, one where you could walk so freely with common care and worry. The sun rays beamed on the car causing the temperature to surpass a well comfortable standard and you felt your anxiety churn in the pit of your stomach. He was coming for you and you were foolish to believe that a historial full of those suffering would allow him To pause in his conquest. You hung your head and sighed out, and felt a soft hand place itself on your thigh as you looked up worryingly to this man. 

It was almost unfair. How in a life full of torture, deceit and pain, that there was someone so honest, so loving. Hyunjin had and would always be the light at every end of each tunnel you found yourself in. He will always be that comforting voice in your mind. The softest touch a human could ever have. And it was unfair because you couldn’t live a life of peace and harmony. You two will never be able to sleep restfully in each other’s arms without the worry of captive or murder at your corner. To live the way you had, hidden behind masks placed for the both of you caused nothing but pain. And at what cost? You feared since the day your grandfather decided that he and the network would move forward and deem it necessary for you to be killed, that you would never truly see this man again. You looked at Hyunjin, studied all of his features. How his skin almost resembled silk in the way it looked soft to the touch and had no imperfections. His mole that was kissed under his eye, and the sharpness of the angles in the way he was carved by angels. His eyes felt like two of the most precious stars caught from the galaxy and placed into his orbs. They drew you in and made you feel like everything around you was still. His lips… his lips that took you to paradise, how everything he did, brought you bliss. He was your safety net, your rock, your protector. And you never thought love at first sight was real, you had grown up to hate this man, but the moment you looked at him with your own two eyes, you felt static electricity run through your spine. You two had as would always be two hearts as one, two souls cut from the same strand. He had always been your other half.

And that’s what scares you. The unknown. Of the hours ahead, the plan that had been set in place. You remembered the discussion you had with Changbin when he introduced the bullet to you. The technology and the thought behind its ability to stun you and weaken the heartbeat but not enough force to kill you. You knew Hyunjin didn’t see your point of view and grew nervous for the safety of your unborn child. 

“Here it is” 

“So tell me, when Minho shoots it-“ You started and Changbin cut you off. 

“It will break the skin, it will hurt, especially if he is rather close to you. I made this protection pad for you to wear..”  Changbin handed to the padding and you eyed it a bit before he continued.

“This should help stop the force of the bullet from completely killing you”

“YAH!” Hyunjin yelled more as a warning to be careful with the words people used. He was on edge with the whole situation.

“Hyunjin it ‘s fine. It won’t kill me. We just need it to put me out for a few, make grandfather believe I am dead.” You looked at him before turning to Changbin, “Thank you Changbin.” 

Hyunjin clenched his jaw and left the room as you tried to grab on to his arm as he jerked you off.

“Hyunjin—“

You followed after him and you two were in the hallway when you called out his name again and grabbed him as he  turned to you. 

“This is ridiculous Y/N putting yourself at danger! Putting everything on the line like this. If he thinks you're dead, what difference does it make!?”

“He hid me from the world. He made me non existent. Do you know that you could have been dead years ago!? That’s why.” You retorted and Hyunjin sighed out in frustration.

“I’m playing the same game as him, Hyunjin. Making myself non existent. For me, for you…” You grabbed his hand and placed it over your stomach, “for our family.”

Hyunjin pulled you into a hug and held you tightly, like he was going to lose you .“I just can’t bear to think of something happens, if you-“

“Nothing will happen, I promise. I trust Minho. I trust the plan.”

“I’m going in.” You unbuckle your seat belt and looked at Hyunjin. He slid his hand over your cheek and behind your head as he pulled you into a kiss, one that felt so passionate, full of love, fear, lust. Like it was the last time you two would ever feel each other. His lips molding into yours like he was studying every soft line you had and memorizing the way you taste. 

“Y/N” He whispered against your lips. It was so beautiful the way he said your name.

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” You kissed him back before you made your way out of the car and to the hospital. 

You took slow steps walking across the cream colored colored floor, mind lost in the daze as your heels clacking against the concrete were the only thing that could be heard. The smell of medicine and cleanliness around you and the overwhelming silence of it all as you approached Jeongin’s hospital room made you feel insane. Your skin was itching for some kind of crazy to happen, and you received nothing of the sort. As you approached the corner of the room you heard a not so pleasant sound. The sound of a laugh you were not expecting to hear in the hospital, one full of danger and suspense. You began to think to yourself the harm Jeongin could be in and how bold of a man your Grandfather was to show himself here, and at the same time you were not surprised. You took one deep breath in and walked into the hospital room and saw a frozen in place Jeongin sitting up on his bed. Your grandfather sat across him with his legs crossed, his eyes dark and evil, smile curved just enough to scare away those around him. He had his men in the room holding their assault rifles in clear view. All attention focused on you when you came into sight. There was no turning back now.

“Today is the day Y/N. I trust that you know what lies ahead of you” you grandfather spoke, head slowly turning to you as you squinted at him and clenched your jaw.

“I suppose it was foolish of me to believe that you wouldn’t come here to find me.” You responded back and he smiled at you.

“You and Jeongin...two peas in a pod. It’s a shame one of you has to go.” You looked over at Jeongin who was in complete fear, fast ghostly white. You grew anxious.

“If you have come to harm-“

“I do not wish to harm Jeongin any more than I have.”

You paused and you stepped forward and your grandfather’s soldiers raised their weapons at you and your grandfather raised his hand to calm them.

“I will let you have a moment to speak, then we will take you.” You grandfather stood up and you saw the small sling around his arm where you had inflicted your gun shot to. He walked towards you and you moved over to allow him and his men to step out of the room before you ran over to Jeongin’s side and began touching his face.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” 

“Y/N.” 

You checked for any and all signs of cuts and bruises on Jeongin’s body as he kept repeating your name softly. Your mind was so caught up in him that you didn’t hear him raise his voice at you. It was when he gripped your wrists tightly to have you stop when you looked into his eyes.

“I’m okay.” 

You nodded softly and felt tears in your eyes and Jeongin shook his head to tell you not to cry.

“I’m scared Jeongin.” You whispered and he nodded.

“You’re going to be fine. Trust me.” You felt a single tear roll down your cheek and Jeongin pulled you into his arms for a hug, “I’ll see you on the other side.”

You pulled back from him and looked at Jeongin confused before you felt to large hands grip your arms tightly and began to pull you.

“No. LET GO OF ME.” You struggled to get free as you looked at Jeongin who smiled at you and waved sadly and you felt the pit of your stomach churn. “JEONGIN!”

Before you knew it you felt a padding of cloth come to your nose and you began to inhale. Your head grew light and your eyes got heavy as you felt all your weight drop and everything go black.

******************************************************************************************

“They took her.”  Hyunjin bursted into the office and Minho jolted up out of his seat as he turned to Felix who looked back at him.

“It’s time.” Minho said and Felix nodded and got up and grabbed his jacket.

“Let’s go fuck shit up.” Felix said and left the room, heading to go round up the other boys.

Hyunjin stood there across from Minho as Minho looked back at him. 

“So we are really doing this?” Hyunjin asked and Minho nodded his head.

“Better late than never.” Minho scoffed to himself and Hyunjin nodded as they both left the room.

*******************************************************************************************

You felt your eyes start to pry open and you hissed when you saw the light of the room attack your sight. You squinted hard and saw a man standing in the room guarding the door watching you. You sat yourself up slowly and realized you in a bedroom, one that felt painfully familiar in an odd way. You saw the man grab something at his hip and raise it to his lips.

“She’s awake.” 

You felt your blood run cold. The room was eerily old and filled with floating dust. You then noticed you were laying on a bed and you glanced around and took more in as the man kept speaking over his walkie.

“Bring her to the yard.” You over heard a voice say as you saw the man nod and you glanced over to the side table and noticed a photo of two people you knew.

Your parents.

Soon the man raised his weapon at you and you looked up at him sadly as he gripped your arm and you felt a slight pain on your wrists. You had been tied up with a plastic zip tie and it had rubbed against your skin so much you almost broke blood.

The man jerked you off the bed and placed his gun on your back and you made no sound, no sign of hesitation. You felt absolutely defeated and the war hadn’t even begun. You took a look at the room, your parents room. A place you hadn’t had the chance to truly embrace as home. This whole place you thought was supposed to be home. But it became grounds for evil. A place where the souls of your family are trapped forever.

“Let’s go.” The man pushed you towards the door and you compiled as you started to move.

The hallways were still covered in family portraits and decorations. The mansion had never been changed, had not been touched since the massacre. As you walked further and further you passed by the office, and you felt a piece of yourself grow light. Everything slowed down as you made your way past the room because you knew what had taken place. 

The scenes of the events that had occurred flashed before your eyes. You could see your mother, tied to a chair, being beaten and tortured while your father watched in agony, screaming and begging for the men to stop. Your mother…. bleeding out, being stripped of her garments and abused. Your father watched as they placed the gun to her head and fired the last shot. 

You saw your father cry. Losing hope and the love of his life, losing you. You felt his pain as you walked past. You felt everything like you never have before.

You walked down the stairs of the mansion and saw the dark beauty behind the way everything looked. It was a true shame, so much beauty and life sucked out of this home. 

Once you made your way to the from door you saw another soldier standing by and looked at you unpleasantly. The soldier behind you pushed you into the other as the next one grabbed you and headed out to the front of the house. You looked ahead and saw your grandfather standing in the middle of the yard, almost ritualistically surrounded by men you knew only through photos. The network. 

You were walked closer to your grandfather and then shoved to the ground as you tried to catch yourself with your hands tied. You felt the gravel of the ground damage your knees and scrape your hands and some of your face as you fell hard with a grunt. You heard your grandfather snicker to himself as he cleared his throat.

“I present to you all. The daughter of Lee Won Shik. LEE Y/N!”

You pushed yourself up off the ground and looked up at your grandfather as he spoke to the crowd. 

“Y/N original mission was to infiltrate the Hwang family through their son, Hwang Hyunjin. A tactic we have all created together and implemented.” 

You listened to this absurdity. Not only was your grandfather a monster but the whole network was behind him, that’s how his power never faded. There was so much corruption and evil around you that it made you afraid. 

“Unfortunately, it seems that our very own has fallen deep into her work. She is now unfit to rule this family and has committed treason to us.” 

You saw as the men who stood around you listened and you looked back up at your grandfather who smiled and continued.

“Lee Y/N is carrying the child of Hwang Hyunjin.” 

Shocked responses from around you as you flared up at your grandfather broke the airy night. Your breathing grew heavy and you never broke eye contact with the man who stood before you. You knew the network would never turn on this man and you knew you were being tried.

“Lee Y/N, how do you plead?” Your grandfather smiled knowing that this was his most enjoyable event. He loathed you so much that the thought of your head on a plate was what got him here. You clenched your jaw and smiled back at him and laughed. 

“Guilty.” 

Your grandfather almost frowned to your answer, but scoffed. “Guilty, you heard the woman.”

He began to walk around you and look at the men around, “the Lee family has held its crown for decades, and we have ruled over all families. We will not allow a child stained with Hwang blood to succeed the throne of this business.” 

You noticed lights ahead, lights belonging to a vehicle. Two then four then six… multiple cars approached and you felt okay knowing that Minho was close.. Hyunjin was close. The plan was about to be executed and the future was more clear for you.

The cars pulled up and you saw the reactions of everyone as they pulled their weapons up and aimed at the vehicles. The lights shining into your eyes cause you to look away and squinted as you heard the sound of the door opening and slamming shut.

“Stand down, everyone.” Your grandfather ordered and you heard the sound of weapons lowering.

“Lee Minho has come to complete his mission.” Your grandfather spoke and laughed, “He will execute the leader and take the crown as the new leader of the Lee Family.”

The lights of the car flashed off and you saw Minho in the dark, walking to you. His expression was full of rage and anger. You looked up at him as he looked down at you. In the back of his eyes you searched for a confirmation that the plan was in action and that his expressions were not drawn at you. But you found nothing, you couldn’t read him. His eyes were as black as the night sky and they held an incredible amount of hate. You felt yourself grow uneasy, you had trusted him. Surely he wasn’t going to pull the trigger on you, you trusted him to shoot you where it had been planned. You saw him inch towards you and he drew his weapon at you, aimed at your head. 

“Minho..” you whispered.

“Now is the time Minho!” Your grandfather’s voice brought you back to the reality of the situation. You tried to tell yourself that this wasn’t real, Minhop wouldn’t dare to shoot you. But as you looked up at him, his gun aimed at your head, you weren’t so sure. 

You thought back to the last conversation you had with Minho, and how in that moment you truly felt like this was a moment you weren’t supposed to question. 

You peeked behind the wall at him as he stood in the middle of the night, looking up at the sky and sighing heavily to himself. You could feel his distress, his fear, his anxiety...all of it. It surrounded him as he kept digging a larger hole in his mind and you wondered what was going on. You wanted to speak to him, and you  wanted to give him the space you knew he needed. But in the end it was ruined by you making a far too noticeable sound when you leaned against the door. Minho laughed a bit and turned his head softly as you grew embarrassed. 

“ So you’re spying on me now, Y/N” He said softly and you cleared your throat as you walked closer to him and smiled.

“The boys said that you were out here, I just wanted to check in on you.” You said and Minho gleaned over at you and nodded.

“You guys are all counting on me but, I  can’t do this Y/N '' Minho croaked out, almost chocking by tears and you looked at him in concern as he exhaled deeply. 

“I keep playing it in my head, over and over again and I just…” 

“Minho… don’t” You reached out your hand to touch his arm as he hung his head low. 

“The first time he laid his hands on you...you were only seven.” You felt the guilt rise in him, everything that he was feeling that he kept deep inside  was pouring out. 

“I remember that day too well, I watched him take you to his chamber and I was so mad because I thought that you were getting a reward. I was so jealous and angry and then..” 

You bit your lip at the memory, one that you try not to bring back to your mind, but Minho’s point of view made you realize that he had been struggling in a different way all these years. 

“When I saw the bruises on your arms and face...I…” He paused and you saw him choke on the tears that were coming out without fail. You shook your head not wanting him to continue but he did anyways as you tried to comfort him. 

“Y/N I didn’t want to get hurt the way you were, I thought if I ignored it, maybe one day it would go away. He would stop but..he didn’t.” 

“ I know..” 

“No, you don’t. I have failed to protect you for so long, and I have been against you for years. And now, I have to help you and I don’t know if I can. If I miss, if something happens, I’m responsible. What if you die?”

“I’m prepared to.” You spoke bluntly and Minho looked at you wide eyed, “I’m prepared to die, if it goes wrong.”

“But what about Hyunjin?” 

You sighed, and reached into your back pocket and pulled out a note that you had been saving to give to Minho. “If I die, you give this to him.”

“I trust you Minho… I trust that you’re going to come and pull that trigger and you and I are going to change the world. I know it. I know I looked at you for years as the bad guy in my life, but you’re just as fucked up as me. We can’t fix that but we can evolve from it.” You said and he nodded at you and you sighed. 

“I just don’t know what I would do if you got hurt, Y/N. I should of been there all these years-” 

“So be there now. Be here for me now. Pull the trigger and help me.” 

Minho glared at you and you felt tears starting to warm your eyes and your grandfather chuckled lowly. 

“My oh my, what do we have here?” 

“MINHO.” A loud yell came from behind and your eyes widened. What the fuck is he doing?” 

You saw Hyunjin storm his way past the cars and saw his men trail behind him. You noticed Changbin, Jisung, and Chan as well as Seungmin and Felix behind with their weapons as Hyunjin kept approaching. Your mind went numb. This wasn’t the plan. 

Minho never took his eyes off of you and he was incredibly still and locked on you. You felt your heartbeat quicken when you saw Hyunjin approach you two and then all weapons drew. 

Hyunjin looked at you and you looked back in complete fear and confusion.

“Minho put your gun down.” Hyunjin ordered and you watched as he held his weapon at Minho.

“No.” Minho looked at you and you looked up at him. You were trying so hard to make sense of the situation. This wasn’t what you had discussed and what you agreed on. This was different. Something different was happening and you were lost. Everything felt wrong. 

“Minho, what’s going on?” You whispered at him and you watched as he began to ease on the tension, somehow your words brought him back. 

“Minho.. I’m fucking warning you…” Hyunjin held his gun and you looked at Hyunjin.

“HYUNJIN PUT YOUR GUN DOWN!” You screamed. 

“NO Y/N, HE’S GOING TO KILL YOU.” 

The pounding of your heart was in your ears as you looked at Hyunjin. He stood in front of you, gun pointed at Minho. His eyes were dark, like he craved this. You felt hazy, nothing in that moment felt real. Your knees grew sore from being in the gravel. You looked up to the side of you and saw Minho. His eyes, sad and hurting. You thought he would cry. But how could he in this moment. But the gun in his hand at you didn’t feel staged anymore. Nothing felt right. You were beginning to question your sanity. Had all of this been a lie? Were you once again fooled? Your grandfather’s claps interrupted your thought process as you turned to him as he chuckled.

“All three of you. In one vicinity. How delightful it is to see sucha scene, and how pathetic it is to see the son of Hyun-woo sacrificing his life yet again for a woman.” Hyunjin clenched his jaw as he looked at you and you stared back. He was hard to read, something that never was difficult before. He looked busy in his mind, thinking about something deeply. You turned to Minho and he looked down at you as you tried to read him. Blank. You felt your heartbeat quicken and the pit of your stomach felt light. Where were they? Why were they not with you?

“Since I have you three here, I might as well use this to my advantage.” your grandfather stepped closer and looked at Minho.

“Shoot her.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Hyunjin growled.

“Shoot her Minho.” 

“Minho I swear to god, don’t you dare pull that trigger.” 

“No?” Your grandfather looked at Hyunjin and he smiled at him. “ Then you pull it Hyunjin. Pull yours.” 

You looked at the scene and felt tears brim your eyes. Nothing felt right and this was not the plan. You looked to Hyunjin and then Minho. Minho began to shake and you pleaded with your eyes. 

“I don’t care who pulls the trigger, it means nothing to me. One of you has to die anyways…” 

Those words sent chills down your spine. No matter the outcome, your grandfather felt no remorse if anyone were to die. It was painful, but not shocking. He ordered the death of your family and has no sense of guilt for what he has done. You bit your lip and almost felt like the plan would have caused nothing but more anger and pain. So maybe you would be okay if Minho pulled the trigger. Maybe this was the best thing for everyone. 

“You heard him Y/N.” Minho said softly and you looked at him in fear as he cocked his gun back and you saw the light escape his eyes, full blown rage. 

“One of us has to die.”

You closed your eyes, letting a tear run down your cheek as you prepared mentally for the pain, for the sorrow. It ends here, you thought. This was for the best.

The last thing you heard was the sound of the gun firing it’s bullet, leaving you stunned, cold, and quiet.

A/N: SO sorry this came out late, you are all so eager and I was trying to type and proof between shifts :( Being an ADULT is hard, but anyways. We have reached the end. Next week is the last chapter. I could actually cry. As always let me know your thoughts and I will see you on the other side loves:) 

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