#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

[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 lay 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

[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.

[topguncortez]

Bad Medicine | Chapter 8

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synopsis: A wealthy Italian mobster sets up his daughter to marry the head of one of the last remaining mafias in California. The union was supposed to create and heal the damage between two families, but all it does is cause more harm than good.

word count: 4.7k

warnings: guns, drugs, mentions of prostitution, mentions of physical assault, mentions of sexual violence, mentions of torture, mentions of suicide, physical violence, stabbing.

When Emile first met the Seresins, Jake was a newborn. Their mother was said that having a baby boy was just too much stress with trying to parent two young girls and be the face of a growing mafia. Emile had seen the good and the ugly with the Seresin children, helping basically raise them. She tended to turn a blind eye to the evil things Jake had done, but she couldn’t ignore the bruised face of the girl that sat at her breakfast table. 

Emile didn’t say anything, eyeing Jake down with a cold stare that sent shivers down his body. She paid extra attention to Y/N, asking if she was okay, and if there was anything she could do to help her heal quicker. Y/N just wanted to lay in bed, being up and around made her head pound. Emile agreed and went up to draw her a warm bath and place some pajamas and a blanket in the dryer so they would be warm when they got out. 

Everyone had cleared from the table, except Jake, who had felt much like a small child, waiting to be scolded. He loved Emile, he’d even admit, more than his own mother sometimes. He never wanted her to see the dark things that he had done. He hated seeing her broken heart and judgemental eyes as she looked at him. Emile cleared the table, trying to keep her calm, and bite her tongue but she couldn’t. Emile sighed as she picked up a plate and looked over at Jake. 

“I don’t say a lot about what you do, simply because it’s none of my business, but Jake,�� Emile spoke, and slammed the plate down, making him jump, “What the hell did you do to that poor girl? Hasn’t she been through enough torture? You are going to be her husband, her protector. . . not the man who lays a hand on her.”

Jake looked up at Emile, his eyes glassy, “I know.” His voice was small, as he felt like sinking into his chair and hiding away from Emile’s stare. 

“You don’t ever lay a hand on her. No matter how much she makes you angry. You have seen things no child should ever have to see, I know there is darkness around your heart, but this isn’t you Jake. This isn’t the Jacob I raised.” 

“I-I know.” 

“Do you?” Emile sighed, “Act like it then. I know this is a shitty deal, and your heart still hurts from being broken, but show her what it means to be safe, for once in her life.” 

“How? Everyone woman I’ve ever loved, t-they-” 

Emile sat down next to him, and grabbed one of his shaky hands in both of her warm ones, “Love is scary, Jake. And if it wasn’t then everyone would be in love with the first person they see on the street. You let your heart heal, sweetheart. You let her in, let her see you with your walls down.” 

“What can I do right now?” 

“Take some tylenol up for her. Her poor nose and face have got to be hurting her. I also placed some blankets and pajamas in the dryer, you can take those up too.”  

Jake nodded as Emile stood up to go into the kitchen to finish cleaning, “Thank you.” 

“It’s my job, sweetpea.” 

— — — ♱♱♱ — — — ♱♱♱ — — — 

Jake sat on the master bed fiddling with his thumbs as he waited for Y/N to get out of her bath. He had never been nervous before, but after hearing her open up briefly to Bob, and the talk with Emile, he was ready to open up. Jake had spent years suppressing his emotions, he had basically been trained to. Good leaders learn to put their emotions away, and not let them bother them. Jake never let himself feel, the one time he did had ended in tragedy. 

He sat up straighter as the door to the bathroom slid open, and Y/N stepped out, a towel wrapped around her body and one in her hand, drying her hair. She gasped at the sight of him, fear filling her eyes. Immediate guilt flooded into Jake’s body, as she took a step back into the bathroom. He didn’t get a good look at her earlier, but now he could see the damage he had done to her. Her nose was swollen, purple and blue bruising stretched under her eyes, and a prominent cut on the bridge of her nose stuck out. 

Jake stood up from the bed and raised his hands slightly, keeping them open for her to see, “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly and Y/N shook her head. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“Doll, I’m-” 

“Don’t fucking call me that!” She yelled, catching Jake off guard, “You fucking call me that and all I can fucking think of is him. Is that what you want? Everytime you call me that stupid fucking pet name to think of what he did? What he fucking ruined?” 

“You aren’t ruined.” 

“I am!” Y/N cried, throwing her towel down, “You don’t even know half the shit he did,” She sucked in a breath and undid the towel from around her body. Jake looked away as she stood bare in front of him, “Look at me. Look at what you did. He fractured me, but you continue to break me. Jake! Look at me!” 

Jake slowly turned his head back towards her, and looked at the scars that littered her body. He clenched his jaw and looked at the puffy scared initials that had been burned into her skin: ‘FS’. He couldn’t take it anymore and picked up the towel from the ground, and wrapped it around her body. Y/N pushed his hands away and wrapped herself back up. 

Jake took a step back and looked down at his hands, “This isn’t how I wanted things to go. This whole thing isn't how I wanted it.” 

Y/N sighed, “Me either.” 

“And no matter how many times I say it,” Jake said, and sat down on the edge of her bed, “you won’t believe me, but I am sorry.” 

“What changed your heart, Jacob? Hearing me say I want to throw myself over the balcony or because I called you his name?” 

“Neither. . . it was Natasha,” Jake said, peering up at her. Y/N looked down at the floor. She hadn’t brought up the female’s name since the night after the fight club. She knew that it was obviously a soft spot for him, and she didn’t want to make him more angry by poking the bear, “I loved her, actually, I think I still do. After everything that happened, I didn’t think I could love again, or feel that. I’m terrified of letting you get close cause I don’t want to have to tell your father I couldn’t protect you.” 

Y/N nodded, and sat down on the bed, leaving space in between them. She laid her hand down in the middle of the mattress and Jake did the same, their pinkies touching. They sat in silence, letting the weight of everything settle around them. There was still something unspoken in the air, the monster hiding under the bed, the skeletons in the closet, but neither of them knew where to begin. Jake looked over at her, the bruising on her face making him feel sick. 

“Payback doesn’t think it’s broken,” Y/N said, her eyes still trained on the wall in front of her, “He said he would check again tomorrow when the swelling goes down. I’ve had a broken nose, so I don’t think it’s broken either.” 

“That’s good, I guess.” Jake cleared his throat, “Javy, Bob and Rooster are out for the day. They went to Miramar with our friend Mickey to look for Dante at his old lady’s place.” 

“And why do we care about some little lousy street gang?” 

“Since your future husband decided to blow up some of that lousy little street gang’s stock houses,” Jake smirked. Y/N looked over at him and glared, “Sorry. . .  Dante roughed up some of the whores-” 

“Don’t call them that.” 

“Sorry, again, girls. The man you saw us with on your first night, he was a part of Dante’s crew. We dropped him off as a gift. Dante is pissed, he wants his revenge. We gotta off him before he does that.” 

“And you sent three men to lure him out?” 

“Three of my best, plus an FBI agent” Jake said, taking some offense, and sticking his chest out, “Mickey and Bob made up the plan, Dante is greedy as fuck, he’s gonna lure him out like a cash pig, and then Rooster will step in and finish him off.” 

“How long will that take?” 

“Not sure, probably all day. Rooster is… very skilled in his craft,” Jake smirked and Y/N shivered, “He’s no Gianni Santiago, but he’s up there for most demented fucker I know.” 

“He’s so… gentle though. It genuinely scared me when I saw him kill that man.” Y/N spoke and Jake nodded. 

“He’s a dark kid, he’s seen some shit no one should ever have to see. He’s got ghosts. You remind me a lot of him, two broken souls drifting in the wind, trying to grab on to anything to help them stay above the tide.” 

Jake looked at her, his eyes searching into hers. He could see the coldness behind them, but he also saw the scared little girl she tried to push away. He had seen that look before, once in his own eyes as he stared at himself in the mirror. Jake carefully picked up her hand, lacing their fingers together, and giving her a gentle squeezing. She looked down at their conjoined hands and a shy smile pulled at her lips. 

“It’s just us today,” Jake spoke, “I know you haven’t had much time to plan this impending wedding so… I’m at your service today, I’ll do whatever you tell me.” 

“Anything?” 

“Within moderation.” 

Y/N pushed off the bed, letting go of his hand and walking to her closet. Jake watched as she reached on her tiptoes to get a beat up old composition notebook with a duct taped cover. He eyed her curiously as she walked back over and sat down next to him. 

“My wedding book,” She giggled and opened the cover, “Everything I ever dreamed about, I wrote it all down.” 

Jake took the notebook from her softly, and flipped through the torn pages. He laughed at the invite that was taped to the front page: 

Please Join Us for the wedding of 

Prince Harry, the Duke of Sussex 

and 

Y/N M/N Santiago 

“I think you’re a little too late for this one, love.” Jake said and Y/N laughed at the invite. 

“One can only hope.” 

Jake closed the notebook softly and looked over at her, “Looks like we got a lot of work ahead of us.” 

— — — ♱♱♱ — — — ♱♱♱ — — — 

The two had spent the whole day next to each other, working on various tasks for the wedding. The dining room table had been taken over by papers, and color samples. Jake had confirmed the guest list address with the information Bob had gathered, and Y/N carefully designed each one of them to perfection, making sure to incorporate the dark maroon color Jake insisted on having. They picked out flower arrangements, settling on sunflowers and deep red roses. Jake had also set up a suit fitting for him and the boys. Y/N desperately tried reaching out to Sophie, knowing she’d rather die than not have her best friend standing up at the altar with her. 

“Fuck,” She sighed, throwing her phone on the desk. It had been over three months since Y/N had spoken to Sophie. She had called her every day, and sent a mass of text messages updating the missing girl on things that were happening, but everything was the same: radio silence and straight to voicemail, “When will Bob be back?” 

“I’m not sure, why? What’s wrong?” Jake said, looking over at her. She avoided his eyes and just shook her head. She remembered what Bob had warned her about, and would much rather stay on Jake’s good side, “You think your father would be okay if we just had a regular priest instead of a Catholic one?” 

“Do you want to be shot on sight?” Y/N said in a joking matter, but Jake just shook his head quickly. She shuffled awkwardly and sat up straighter, “Needs to be Catholic. He’s okay if we get married in the backyard and not in a Cathedral, but he’ll off us both if there’s not a whole ass Catholic ceremony.” 

“Sounds like a done deal to me then,” Jake said, closing the contact book in his hands. He set the book down, and looked at Y/N. His eyes taking in every bit of her, every scar, every blemish, every identifying feature. She glanced at him slightly, feeling his stare on her, “Tell me about your mother.” 

“What do you want to know?” Y/N sighed, abandoning her project of trying to find a bridesmaid dress for her missing friend. She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, looking Jake up and down. 

“I just don’t know much about you,” Jake shrugged, “I know what Bob had dug up, but that’s it. Who’s the real Y/N Santiago? Tell me.” 

Y/N nodded, “My mother, God I don’t even know where to begin. . .” 

Y/N and Jake sat for hours in the office, just listening to one another share who they are. Y/N spoke about her mother, how beautiful and smart she was, how important her parents' marriage was to the way the Italian Crime Families were run, and how tragic her death was. Y/N danced around the topic of Francisco, but Jake could sense the fear in the way she spoke. Jake had gathered from the info Bob had pulled that Y/N was there when Francisco killed her mother. Another man held her down as Francisco beat and tortured her mother, forcing Y/N to watch. 

Jake changed the topic, talking about his parents, who were hiding overseas in Ireland. He talked about his childhood, talked about growing up with Bob and Rooster, and briefly mentioned his time in the Navy and how he met Mickey and Javy. 

“So Bob is actually your brother?” Y/N asked, running her finger on the rim of her wine glass. 

“Yep. My father had an affair a couple years after I was born, and Bob was the product,” Jake answered, taking a sip of wine. 

“So if anything happens to you…” 

“Bob becomes head of the family, Rooster slides into second in command.”

Y/N nodded and Jake continued to talk about how everything was somewhat normal until his father survived an assassination attempt. His father had Jake generally discharged so he could start learning how to take over the head of the Seresin Mafia. He also danced around a harsh topic: Natasha. Y/N’s mind was screaming to ask him about the female whose name fell so easily past his lips, but her heart told her not to, to let him tell her on his own terms. 

They had moved from the office to the couch, and Jake had opened a bottle of wine, pouring them both a glass and setting the bottle down in between them. Y/N also talked about Payback and Sophie. Jake smiled at the way she lit up and got much more animated when talking about those two. Her eyes were bright, and uncontrollable giggles fell past her pink lips as she told a story of how she and Sophie had run away from Payback, telling him they were in Argentina when they were really in Brazil. Jake couldn’t help but laugh as Y/N snorted in laughter, and then broke into a painful moan, holding her nose. 

“Oh fuck, shit, this hurts,” Y/N groaned and continued to laugh. Jake tensed up as she tried to laugh through the pain, “Sophie would be fucking dying right now if she were here. She could tell that story so much better than I can.” 

“So they are your people,” Jake said and Y/N nodded. 

“The only two on this whole planet who gave a shit if I was breathing or not.” Y/N said sadly, “After my mother and everything, I lost myself. I lost who I was, my worth. Sophie and Reuben helped reestablish that. They made me feel safe, made me feel loved.” 

“I know what you mean, my brothers were like your Reuben and Sophie. After I lost Natasha, I completely shut down. They helped build me back together.” 

“I like how you call them your brothers,” Y/N said, placing her hand on his, rubbing the back of it with her thumb. 

Jake smiled at her, “They pretty much are. Not all of us by blood, but we’ve all spilt enough blood to basically be blood related. I’d probably be dead without them. I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost one of them. My captain once said that if you fly long enough in the Navy, eventually you’ll lose a wingman.” 

“I think it would take much more than some bullets to take you guys down,” Y/N said softly. Jake nodded and looked up at her face, noticing the look in her eye. He suddenly realized how close the two of them were, and quickly looked down at her empty glass. 

“More?” He asked, nodding to the bottle. 

“Sure,” Y/N sighed in content, leaning back against the couch. Jake nodded, standing up and taking the empty bottle to replace it with a full one. Y/N watched him leave, and went back to looking at the wedding plans. Her eyes scanned over the white carpet of the living room, when Jake’s phone started to ring. Her breath caught in her throat seeing the called ID. 

“Honey, could you get that?” Jake called out to her. Y/N reached across the dark wooden table, grabbing his phone and swiping the answer button. 

“Rafael,” Y/N answered. She could only imagine the look of surprise on his face, “What do we owe the call?” 

“You’re answering his phone now? You work quickly, Y/N.” The Don spoke and Y/N rolled her eyes, “I called to speak to Jacob, where is he?” 

“Working. Whatever you can say to him you can say to me.” 

“Reuben around?” 

The mention of the girl’s bodyguard had her shifting uncomfortably. She could hear it in her father’s tone, he was hiding something. Y/N had learned over the years how to read her father, picking out his tells. His voice always sounded softer and he avoided answering questions when he was hiding something. 

“Also working. What’s going on?”

“That Jake?” Y/N could hear Gianni’s voice in the background. She closed her eyes and could hear all three of the Santiago brothers in the background. Jake appeared from the kitchen, setting the wine bottle down, with a puzzled look on his face, “You tell him about Sophie and the Francisco spotting?” 

Y/N was positive her heart stopped beating. That the blood in her body had frozen and she fell into shock. Jake grabbed the phone from her quickly, holding up to his ear, speaking in a hushed tone to her father and brothers. His eyes read her the best he could, but she sat frozen in her spot. Jake hung up the phone, setting it down and moving over to her. He kneeled in front of her, touching her softly. She jumped and Jake held his hands up. 

“It’s okay,” Jake said softly, “Can I touch you?” Y/N shook her head, “Okay, that’s alright. Just promise me to keep taking deep breaths,” Y/N nodded and Jake licked his lips trying to gather the right words to say, “About ten weeks ago, ATF got a hit on movement from the account of Andrea Solano-” 

“Franky’s dad,” Y/N said and Jake nodded. 

“Narciso got the red alert about it and had been watching the account, and that’s when he told your father about it. My father and yours were already working on a guns deal when Francisco popped back up on the radar, my dad basically said that we’d take you if your dad would take the guns,” Y/N scoffed, and Jake reached for hand, this time she allowed him to take it, 

“Y/N. . . Sophie never made it to Greece. Francisco kidnapped her from the airport about six weeks ago.” Y/N looked up at Jake, tears in her eyes as she fought back the sobs clawing in her chest, “Narciso, Bob and Mickey have been doing all they can to try and spot her. Recently ATF found a hit in Encinitas of a guy matching Francisco’s description. Mickey let us know, and we’ve been watching it since.” 

“H-He’s here?” Y/N spoke up, her voice cracking. Jake looked at her, and his heart broke. The look in her eyes was nothing but pure fear. He wished he could rewind the clock by three minutes, and decided to pick up his phone instead of her. Jake squeezed her hand. 

“We don’t know for sure. I have my tech nerds and Bob looking into him daily, wherever he is, he knows we are looking for him. We’ll find them both, Sophie and Francisco. None of us, and I mean it, are going to let anything happen to you.” 

Y/N nodded softly, taking Jake's other hand in hers. For once, looking into his green eyes she felt a little bit safer. Jake pushed himself up from the ground, and pulled her into a hug. She was caught off guard, he hadn’t ever touched her like this before. Every time Jake had placed a hand on her, it was always with an ill intention. But having his arms wrapped around her, holding her securely to his body felt. . . different. She pulled back softly and looked at him, his messy blonde hair falling in front of his face.

“Can we go swimming?” Y/N asked softly. 

“Swim? Like in the pool?” 

“No, Jacob, in the fucking ocean.” 

“Smart ass,” Jake smirked pointing his finger at her, “Sure, go change.” 

“I think I’m good,” Y/N returned his smirk and walked over to the sliding glass doors that opened up to the patio and the infinity pool. Jake watched her closely, as her dainty hands gripped the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. His breath caught in his throat, watching as she stripped down to her bra and underwear. He smirked, noticing the red color as she easily slipped into the pool. Jake watched as she surfaced, pushing her hair out of her eyes, letting it float around in the water, “Coming in?” 

“Would you hate me if I didn’t?” 

“I already hate you.”  

“Ouch, that hurt, honey,” Jake said, placing a hand over his heart. He walked over to a pool chair and began kicking off his shoes and socks. Y/N bit her lip as he undid his button up, his back flexing as he pulled it off his tan body. She admired his toned stomach and arms, as he undid his belt, sliding his black dress pants down his legs. Jake walked over to her, slipping into the pool. 

“Kinda cold,” Jake said shivering. 

“Warmer if you would just go under,” Y/N encouraged. Jake smirked and stepped forward, diving under the water, and grabbing her foot, making her gasp as she fell under water with him. Jake surfaced and Y/N soon after, breaking out into a fit of giggles. 

“Are you feeling better?” Jake asked her, pushing some of the wet hair away from her face, “I’m sorry for not telling you about Sophie.” 

“It’s probably better that you didn’t,” Y/N sighed as she swam over to the side of the pool. She leaned her arms on the side, looking out into the garden below the patio. She could see the sparkle of the white roses in the moonlight, “Ya know I was just thinking.” Jake swam over to the side, positioning himself next to her.

“Uh-oh.” 

“Shut up,” Y/N laughed, splashing him. 

He chuckled, “What were you thinking? I hope it didn’t involve punching people in the face.” 

“Not this time,” Y/N smiled, “I was just thinking that we’ve never really shared a first kiss. You kissed me the other night but-” 

Jake did a double take, looking at her. He gulped and moved a little bit closer to her, his arm touching against her’s, “We can fix that, i-if you want-t.” 

He cursed himself for stuttering on his words. Y/N picked her head up and looked over at him. He pushed off the wall grabbing her body and pulling her into him. She let out a shaky breath, as Jake carefully brought his hand up to her face, running his knuckle over the scar that ran across it. 

“So pretty,” Jake whispered. 

Y/N shook her head, “Anything but that.” 

“I beg to differ.” 

“Really? Cause you gave me a free nose job.” 

“Y/N-” 

“Sorry, sorry, tough subject.” 

Jake rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around her tightly, pulling her so they were chest to chest. He could feel her heart pick up and start pounding, “You talk a lot.” 

He leaned in slowly, being careful of her nose, and placed a featherlight kiss upon her pink lips. He went to pull back, but Y/N grabbed onto his hair, pulling his lips back to her’s. Jake relaxed into the kiss, letting his hands run over the smooth skin of her body. He easily picked her up in his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as he pushed her against the pool wall. The kiss was hot, as Jake’s hands roamed her thighs before settling on her face, giving it a squeeze. She gasped and Jake slid his tongue into her mouth, tasting the wine from earlier. Her fingers tugged on his hair as his lips went down to her neck, sucking lightly, his hips beginning to grind against her’s. 

“Jake. . .” She said breathlessly and pulled his head back a bit, to look at his lust filled green eyes. 

“Y/N, I want-” 

“Jake!” The sound of running footsteps caused them to separate as a frantic looking man came running out to the patio. Y/N tensed, never having seen the man standing before them. He was wearing black jeans and a shirt with a blue windbreaker over top. 

“What happened?” Jake asked, setting Y/N’s body down. 

“Why didn’t you check your phone!? I called you! It’s bad.” Was all the man said, before running back into the house. 

Jake and Y/N shared a look before quickly climbing out of the pool, grabbing towels and following him into the main part of the house. She gasped as she saw the sight in front of her. A barely conscious Rooster, his face beaten and blood, holding a growing bloody wound on his side. Bob and Javy tried their best to hold him up, but were struggling. 

“What the fuck happened?” Jake said, walking over to them, and holding Rooster’s face in his hands. 

“I-it wasn’t just Dante, he was there too. They blindsided us, we were basically defenseless.” Bob grunted. Payback had already slipped past them, running up the stairs and grabbing his first aid kit, so he could patch Rooster up. 

“Take him down to my office, I’ll be right there,” Jake said to them and Bob nodded, shuffling Rooster down the hallway. 

“Jake, I-” Y/N started to speak but was cut off by Jake facing her and holding his hand up. 

“You better pray that he lives, otherwise, his blood is on your hands.”

@cherrycola27 @seresinsbabe @violyn20 @materialgirl01 @bradleybeachbabe @a-reader-and-a-writer @lt-spork @topnerd03 @3in1shampooconditionerbodywash @bioodforbiood @topguncultleader @ma-fraise @abaker74 @double-j @cm27078 @thedroneranger @khaylin27 @mak-32 @unhinged-btch @wittywhispers @theliterarybeldam @bloosomjoon @chxcxlate-cxxkies @luckyladycreator2 @wellshit6 @harper1666 @phoenix1388 @footprintsinthesxnd @dempy @emma8895eb @bonitanightmxres @love2write2626 @bobbyonboard @some-lovely-day @thenewdaysalreadyhere @cassiemitchellslibrary @ilymoonie @morgensternsblog @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rintheemolion @tallrock35 @adoringsebstan @xoxabs88xox

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[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?

[beansidhebumbling]

Prologue

Warning: Non-consensual groping

*

Death would not get them she vowed. Death would not touch Feyre or Elain. Death would have to face her first.

And so Nesta Archeron began to plan.

She was going to abduct a fae.

It started in Autumn when tragedies began to pile like corpses in the village. First a potato blight, then an infestation of rats in the grain supply, finally a draft of the few, young, able-bodied men for war. Blow after blow, left bellies emptier, faces gaunter, mourning wails more common, until the stench of death began to seep into the very ground, settling heavy like a dense fog.

Nesta knew this was coming, had heard the war on the continent was getting worse from a passing peddler. Had listened to the Holy One rejoice a year ago about the retribution delivered upon a village further east, all but a blessed few dead from contaminated water...that was what they got for trading with the trickster Fae after all. Nesta could not see how joy could be found in the death of babes, no matter their supposed transgression.

The pious, rankling, callous speech moving her to pry whispers from travellers of a scourge on potatoes in the eastern village, that caused them to be pulled rancid, blackened, crumbling from the earth. Of starving families fleeing in droves, those who remained feeding on grass and worms, infected water providing the bitter relief of a faster death to green stained mouths and thin skin stretched taut over bone.

She had tried to say something at the last hall meeting, broached the issue with a village elder about maybe switching to a different tuber to plant come Spring. Had received a smarting cheek and a public reproach. Had to kneel in the square as punishment until the moon was out casting its glow upon herself and Elain, her protector now, a silent presence and warning to the Holy One that not just the moon bore witness. Her thin, white shift turned translucent as rain fell in sheets, as the greedy, beady eyes of the Holy One, staring at her from the porch of the Holy House, consumed her body. Nesta's eyes began to burn with tears she would not let fall, for herself, for all the pain that would befall the innocents, in fear for her sisters, the only people her shrivelled heart could afford to care about. Her crushing sorrow was matched by a roiling anger, rising from deep inside, a storm of her own, at prideful men hiding behind sacred texts, damning them all.

It was dawn before she was released, not before the Holy One, in the guise of fastening a cloak on her, cupped her breasts with his skeleton hands, murmuring threateningly about a virgin sacrifice if the Gods continued to curse them for their sins. If Elain saw this, she did not say and so, the sisters journeyed in silence back to the cottage, meeting Feyre as she rose to hunt.

*

With each passing night, Nesta felt the acid of panic corrode her stomach, sleep a thing shelved for brighter times. If it were herself alone, she'd flee, dive into the darkness of the night, resurface in a quaint port town, far away, a place where she might have the luxury of kindness to spare. But Feyre and Elain, always softer than she, would never abandon their father, as he had done to them, in all but body. She would not leave her sisters and so like a rabbit in a snare, Nesta felt the primal terror of knowing death was coming, and she lay trapped and helpless, directly in its path.

To atone for the sins of their existence, the village had laid out a sacrifice, thankfully animal this time, to the Mother, a desperate prayer of a desolate people, pleading for a gentle winter.  Bonfires rising high, wood cracking, like drumbeats for the frenetic, ritual dancing of the concentric circles of villagers around the Holy One, who stood murmuring lines from the ancient book, clad in the starkest white cloth, lined face and pursed lips, turned upward to the sky, arms aloft. Two pretty acolytes, hair dark and long, falling in well brushed waves stood to either side. Features so delicate and soft with blades so sharp slitting the throats of two bleating goats. Their movements were smooth, practiced, barely flinching as blood misted their faces, crimson-freckled faces screwed in the ecstasy of reverential prayer.

Nesta could have told them the Mother, much like her own, was no benevolent presence, certainly not one that could be won by a few carcasses. There was no divine being to save them, but in the swirling, and madness, and joy, dancing brought her even now, a plan began to shape, in shadows and flickers, slowly forming between leaps and twirls, madness, even by her standards. No doubt one that would see her blood spray like that of the goats. But one that might save her sisters, pay her debts to them.

If nothing else Nesta would die in a blaze, no famine stricken body, no virgin offering to unhearing Gods. A life so restrained, a death so wild, in her last moments a bearing of her soul to those that would stand witness.

Death would not get them she vowed. Death would not touch Feyre or Elain. Death would have to face her first. And so Nesta Archeron began to plan.

She was going to abduct a fae.

[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.

[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.

[hirokiro]

prt 5 Princesses, Dragons and Elves oh my!

~*

“What happened?” Glen asked after the singing had faded. Did he break the elf? Did he break Gill? “Why did he get like that?”

“Glen,” Lana replied, “People are…” She looked for the words to explain, “Very fragile as you know. Even the strong ones, if they have very heavy burdens on their mind, can break under the strain, when they have no one to help them. Gill…” she looked down, lifting the arm away from the tearstained face and resting it on his chest, “He… He told me Adam and all his other friends died to that dragon. He lost more than one person. And… in society men have to be very brave and very stoic when it comes to emotions. They aren’t supposed to cry or get emotional like women do. They’re the main fighters and protectors so they have to be strong all the time, even when they’re hurting and need rest. People forget they have feelings, and they try not to show them. The good men anyway. They try to be brave and hold it all in, the hurt and emotions. And Gill’s clearly been very alone and driving himself very hard despite everything he was going through. So much so that being told he could rest was just so… so shocking, he didn’t know how to handle it.

“At least,” she sat back, “That’s how I interpret it. Being told he can take a break before his mission’s over. It must be very difficult to accept after all he’s been through and all that’s expected of him in these circumstances.”

Glen absorbed that information, “Don’t men get angry all the time?” He certainly thought any time he interacted with people they were afraid and knights or adventurers generally angry and violent. For obvious reasons but…

“Well, many do, and often unwarranted, but like I said, the good men try not to let their tempers get away from them. And… well, you saw when he started… swearing. That… we really pushed him to the limit of his patience…”

Limit of his patience. Glen frowned deeply. The way Lana was talking, he wondered if she was changing her mind.

“You’re not going to side with him now are you?” he growled.

Lana sighed, “He was right, though. Knowing about Adam… changes everything. I need to tell my family, and then be with them while we deal with this tragic… tragic…”

Glen lowered his head. He saw how she trembled. No no no! Why was everyone getting emotional?!

“Don’t cry, Lana. Please don’t.” he pleaded quietly.

“I-I’m s-sorry. Th-this… is just…”

Ahhh he didn’t know what to do! Now Lana was crying and Gill was broken and-

“Do you think since Gill’s unconscious I could rush him back to my cave? He won’t know right?” Glen suggested, desperate to distract Lana, “We need to get him back to water. It must be the dehydration right? He’s still dehydrated, right? Everyone just have a cup of water and we’ll all calm down.”

Lana laughed a little through her tears, “Yes, th-that’s a good idea. While he’s unconscious.”

“Right? He can’t panic if he doesn’t know!”

They got back and made a comfortable spot just within the cave’s entrance, the water throwing up iridescent light on the walls. Glen lay warming in the sun, and thought while the princess bathed the Elf’s forehead with a damp cloth. She sniffled now and then before she lay down herself, taking the unconscious elf’s hand and holding it tightly.

She was agreeing with Gill. Glen didn’t like that at all. He wanted both to stay actually. The elf’s dedication and hardships… and even if he didn’t want to trust him, Glen was starting to get the feeling Gill hadn’t promised anything lightly when they talked. He would be such a great person to keep around. He had all those good qualities of the human type people, and still was a decent person to a dragon like Glen even.

He probably would in fact look for a remedy. He wasn’t afraid of dragons…

Glen studied the elf’s careworn face, the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness that had taken a-hold of him. He had freckles. How many elves had freckles?

I called him unnatural and now… he had a question for the elf, at some point, but he was coming to suspect something about the elf's lineage. Things he had heard.

“I’m frantic. I’m desperate. Please!” Glen had seen the pure desperation and pleading in the elf’s eyes. “Please, let her go home. Let me take her home. I’ll come back, I swear, and do whatever you want. Look for a cure for your insomnia, or you can eat me for all I care….”

“Please…!”

“Mmmm…” he rumbled uncomfortably, not sure what to do. Lana was his friend now! This was unpleasant to think about.

Well, put it off then!  He huffed mentally. Right now for the next however long they weren’t going to talk about it. Just get to know each other and have a respite from the discussion until the elf wasn’t so broken anymore.

They weren’t going anywhere any time soon. Not if he had anything to do with it.

Time passed and Lana came out to talk. She snuck into Gill’s pack and brought out the music box to show off.

Sly. Working on his conscience to guilt him. Still, it was pretty if a little too high pitched for him to enjoy for very long. But he held on for her sake. She talked about her brother some more, and wondered if Gill had some stories about him to share.

“I wonder what can be done for him,” She mused, “Something to help him calm and relax. I can’t think what could help such a worn out man.” “He mentioned sitting under a waterfall,” Glen also thought about it, “I suppose something like swimming would be relaxing. I like to myself now and then. And maybe he’ll like exploring, like the places I’ve shown you around.” he suggested.

~*

What Gill wanted to do when he first woke up was quietly eat, drink water, and write in a journal he had kept in a hidden pocket of his pack. He voiced none of this and proceeded out of order, simply going out and setting several traps, then coming back with a pile of wood, sitting and sipping away from the bucket and cup, and writing.

“Gill. You okay? You, uh, wanna talk about anything?” Lana asked. Since he had ignored the two’s presence entirely, neither knew how to approach him.

Gill said nothing, only rubbed briefly at his damp eyes before snapping the journal closed and going to put it away. Next he headed out again.

“Why so silent?” Glen tried prodding. He snorted slightly when he was also ignored, “Gill?”

They watched him leave, waiting a few minutes.

“Why isn’t he talking to us?” Glen asked after a while.

Lana could only shake her head, “I don’t know. I guess he’s just doing what you said and taking a break, including from interacting with us.”

Glen worried, “But… is he still broken? I want to talk to him and ask if he’s okay. I didn’t mean to break him.”

Lana rolled her eyes, “You don’t understand emotions very well, do you?”

The dragon frowned down at her, “Happy, sad, angry, afraid. Simple enough.”

“I mean like emotional pain.” Lana replied, “I can’t say what’s going through his head but certainly we’ve been the center of his issues so he’s not acknowledging our existence because we said to take a break from it. Or so I guess.”

“Exactly.”

Both jumped. He had stolen so quietly back that neither had heard the elf’s return.

He sat down with a dead rabbit in hand and began going to work on it. The two watched him with bated breath. Glen half expected the elf to fall into literal pieces. After that “Mental break” the elf had become so seemingly fragile in his eyes. More than he normally considered anybody. Even Lana seemed more solid even if she also cried quite a bit earlier.

He felt guilt for causing the panic attack as well. He imagined that played into things.

“Must you ignore us entirely though?” he asked, putting on an irritated tone even though he wanted to beg the elf to say something.

Gill paused, opened his mouth, then closed it and went back to work. The rabbit prepared, he made up the fire, spitted it, and began cooking.

He was so silent. Like a psychopath.

“Well, uh.” Glen was extremely uncomfortable since he seemed to have no power in this situation, “Lana and I were talking and thought you might like to go swimming or visit some of the nice locations around here, to ah… unwind and all that.”

Silence.

“I mean since the pool’s right here. But there’s other places!” Glen added quickly.

The deafening silence drove him insane. He clawed at the earth.

“Gill? You’re scaring me, alright. You’re seriously freaking me out. Please stop with the silent treatment.”

“Maybe we should just go away for a bit?” Lana suggested, also not sure how to handle this.

“...I haven’t the emotional maturity to acknowledge you two right now.” Gill said at last, “As Lana said, you two are at the center of all my problems, and you said take a break from it for a few days. So I’m just going to get back to my normal for a little while, which is being one with nature. I’ll calm down and go from there. You two can also pretend I don’t exist. But,” he added, “Swimming is an excellent suggestion and I appreciate it. I shall do that.”

Relieved, Glen stopped gouging up the earth, “Okay, we’ll, ah, leave you to it then.”

“We won’t be far, when you want to talk again,” Lana added, “Come on Glen, let’s just walk a little.”

They left for a time, and talked more about Gill and how he was acting. When they came back he was nowhere to be seen for a moment, just a pile of clothing sitting next to his pack and…

“Oh god!” Lana was caught by surprise as Gill rose out of the water, his back to them and stripped to the waist. Blushing she quickly dove back into the fringe of the trees and hid behind one.

Glen chuckled, “What? It’s just Gill.”

“Yes but he’s naked!” Lana flushed more covering her eyes.

Glen watched the elf. He got out of the water still in his underpants, went to the ledge and jumped into the water with a splash.

“No he’s not. Don’t you usually take the outer clothing off to go swimming? You got undressed when I took you to that place to bathe.”

“And I made you not look, remember?” Lana replied breathlessly, “Oh gosh. You stupid dragon it’s not appropriate to look at each other when undressed to certain degrees. Not the opposite… gender…”

“It’s…? Oh… huh…” Glen took that in, glancing to the rippling surface of the pond, “Well he’s not entirely undressed so I don’t see the problem.”

He didn’t understand why Lana was acting afraid. What got into her all of a sudden?

“Guy’s got some lungs there.” he commented after several seconds. Another several and Gill resurfaced, treading water, “Huh, wonder if that’s why he goes by ‘Gill’ian, Ha!”

He chuckled at his own stupid joke. Then thought more seriously about it as the elf swam to the shore and dropped off what appeared to be a couple rocks. He kicked off backwards and dove back under.

From his height Glen could still see the elf’s shape under the clear surface, he watched curiously. Guy seemed able to swim pretty well.

Not long after Gill got out for good to sit and dry off, feet still kicking the water. His back was to them.

“Think we should go say hi?” Glen suggested, “Or maybe he’s still going to ignore us?”

He watched Lana from the corner of his eye. She tentatively peeked around the tree, got a good look, and then quickly withdrew, hiding her face again.

“Are.. you embarrassed?” Glen hunkered down. As if he could hide such bulk. Realization dawned. Ah yes, females, “He’s nicely toned. Looks like a few scars there though,” Glen grinned, “Particularly that shoulder.”

“Stooop!” Lana sat and kicked her legs.

“I don’t know much about human appearances but what do you think? Is he good lookin’ by your standards?”

“You know I can hear you?” Gill suddenly spoke up, “Don’t be a tease. I’ll dress soon.”

Glen leered, chuckling as Lana made a small groaning noise, “I’m just messing with you two. I’m getting bored of this being ignored in my own territory. You should at least talk to Lana don’t you think?”

He saw the elf’s shoulders rise and fall as he sighed hugely.

“Just a few more minutes.”

And indeed after a few more minutes of sitting, he went to put his pants on, next cleaning, salving, and wrapping his shoulder. Getting dressed fully next he called out, “Alright I’m ready to interact with people again, at least for a little bit. I might wander off on my own again.”

Glen trotted to his usual spot dabbling his claws in the water. Lana came out more hesitantly and wouldn’t look Gill in the eyes, a slight flush to her cheeks.

“So?” Gill queried, “What is all important that you must converse on that you can’t wait anymore?”

Glen grinned, happy to finally inquire, “I  wanted to know how you were doing. Are you still broken?”

“Broken?” The elf tilted his head, “Oh… well. That’s hard to give a straight answer to. I’m picking up the proverbial pieces and putting myself back together.”

He looked away, and Glen followed his gaze towards the sinking sun.

“I’ll be okay eventually. Just processing things, and like you told me, trying to take a step back from the problem. Getting some sun, learning about my surroundings. 

“Lana.” He turned to the princess.

“Oh, uh, yes?” she responded, glancing awkwardly over.

“It’s getting late, so, are you getting hungry?”

Glen watched the interaction with amusement as Lana affirmed and Gill nodded.

“Alright, probably some more traps have set off. I’ll take a look and see what I can make for you.” Gill started out, paused and looked over his shoulder, “Care to come along? I can teach you a little about foraging. Thinking of stewing things. Since we got time, guess I can pass on a few tricks.”

Lana hesitated before following,  (And I’ve been stuck for some time at this point. When a story doesn’t have some high stakes or tension it loses one’s interest if one doesn’t handle it well. I’m just kind’a stuck on how to proceed and get back to Gill and Glen butting heads again or maybe something happening that’s more interesting than foraging and everyone not sure how to interact with each other. pfft. And no nothing’s going to come of Gill and Lana. As stated she’s too young for his liking. But a young lady can have a crush, can’t she?)

[luxmaeastra]

Nandor glared at his son and shook his hand out. The brass spikes bloodied.

"Tell me the reports I got from The Adept is wrong. Tell me I didn't just send my heir to lay with some Prythian trash?"

Dagdan didn't move to get up. He'd done everything to get out of his father's home. Was it - yes. Yes she was worth it. He saw her eyes again in that dim light. The moment when they both realized it was different with each other. That they could be soft and gentle in a world that would kill them for it.

"She is my mate. She -"

Nandor sneer gripping him by the collar.

"I do not care if she is Mother herself reborn. You will not see them, you will not speak to her. Or so help me I will have them killed and give to you."

He threw him away and left him in the room. He met Branna's eyes looking down at her on the steps.

"You will keep an eye on him. The last thing we need is him running off like some lovesick fool."

He didn't survive a massacre of his entire family line to have his children destory their legacy.

--------

Keir stared at the writing, he'd been wary of Nandor's involvement in all of this. But the relief was worth his sleepless nights. At least Nandor hadn't changed from when he was a boy - arrogant and self-grandizing. He was sure after the Hybern Massacre that only made him even more paranoid and insular.

He looked to Morrigan.

"Here. This is the price of the supposed love he had for you Morrigan."

He didn't mean to be so harsh, he hadn't wanted to. But she was a mother now, an adult and the world wouldn't wait to break her again. It's why he had pushed her to do more training, more different types of fighting.

Keir,

I thank you for being honest. The boy is yours. The House of Thenes does not acknowledge Valroy Narral as of our house or blood. Congratulations on the grandson.

Yours,

Nandor Lord Protector of Hybern and all her cannals and tributaries.

Her attention was torn away from her mother, who was gently cooing over the newborn baby. Even if her father acted as if this was the worst thing she could have done,

She took the letter from him as he held it out, scanning the page and the words that were upon it. It wasn't in his writing, despite how much her father wanted to say this was proof, it wasn't from Dagdan. This was not the price of love, but the price of a selfish and uncaring family.

There was no point in letting her opinions be known, to let the anger show through at the idea that he was being kept from them still. Her deserved to know his child, his son deserved to know his father.

"If that is all you have summoned me for father, I will take my leave with my son and return to my quarters." She turned, taking the bundle from her mother's arms.

Iris made a slight sound of protest as the boy was taken from her, watching as her daughter walked away from her. Could they not at least enjoy the blessing in this? She looked to Keir, the look of hurt upon her face.

"We are going to lose our child...She's shutting us out."

[tarnishedxknight]

When Carter took her hand, she looked to her and smiled. "I just... wish I could take it back. I was so angry... I needed someone to blame. And even though in my heart I could scarcely believe that Basch could do such a thing as to murder his king, my father, a man who had accepted him and elevated him to the rank of knight captain from nothing... a part of me could not erase the testimony at trial. Guardsmen had seen Basch do it. Seen him, mind you, and these were men who had trained under Basch, so they would know, would they not? They saw his face..."

Her eyes lost their focus for a moment, even as her brow furrowed troubledly. "When he was sentenced to die, I could not help but grieve for him too, even though I was so angry. So when I saw him alive years later, I... I slapped him and told him he was supposed to be dead. I would give anything to take that back, for when he explained that he had a twin brother, an identical one, it all made sense... and I... I had been so cruel to him." She smiled sadly. "But Basch is so good, his heart is just so good, that he never held it against me. He said he understood my anger... and was sorry for it. Oh, the long talks we had after that... He quickly fell back into that role of protector and mentor, just as he had before Dalmasca fell..."

Ashe's heart had begun to pound in her chest at the thought of her girlfriend not feeling seen. Does she really think that I do not have any time for her? But as Carter reassured her that she was only joking, Ashe laid a hand over her chest and heaved a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank goodness." She lay her hand against Carter's cheek. "If I ever do offend you in such a manner, please promise me you will tell me, though." She was so new to relationships, after all, and she didn't want to make such a terrible mistake as to end up costing her what she had with Carter.

Basch did mean a lot to her. She already knew that, but the more Carter said it, the more she couldn't help but he so grateful he was back in her life. She felt so comfortable with him. It was like having her family returned to her. Maybe something more than family. No. Wait. Well more, but... not like that. Right?

"I-" she said impulsively, but then thought better of it. "Nevermind," she said, chuckling nervously. No, tell her! She's your beloved, she owe her your honesty. "Um... I just... You know, it is strange... but I used to lie awake at night, nervous about my upcoming wedding to Rasler... feeling that something wasn't right. He was a friend, to be sure, we had been friends since childhood, but..." She shook her head. "He wasn't who I would have chosen for myself, and... I'm not sure why I thought this, but I used to think... that he... he did not measure up to Basch. Somehow Basch became my standard that I compared potential suitors against..."

She was quiet for a moment, lost in her thoughts, before looking at Carter once more. "Oh, not you! Men. It is very different with you. Only with men did I find myself making that comparison. I am not certain why. Perhaps it was just that he had been such a positive influence on my life, teaching me of honor and sacrifice and what good people do in life... that I wanted whoever I was with to have those same qualities." She smiled at Carter. "I feel I've made a good choice," she whispered, gazing at her lovingly.

"When Basch is well... I mean fully well, for he is still weak, they tell me... we should all sit and talk. Have lunch together. Something. What do you think? I would love for you to get to know him better. I have told you much, I know, but... actually knowing him for yourself is far different. And I want to include you, my love. I never want you to feel ignored. I would love it if you would welcome Basch with me. He will need all the support he can get... if my own reaction to waking up in this time is any indication."

When Carter said Ashelia had a type, Ashe blinked. "A type?" At first she did not understand. "A type... of person I like? Oh! Not like that!" she said, nervousness rising so quickly in her as she turned beet red. "No, Basch is like family, I... He's-... I don't think of him... like that... I mean, despite what I said before, it wasn't like I-... I-... No, I-... I've never... He's... um..." She shook her head, at a loss of out to respond. "No, I-I love him like family," she insisted.

Was she telling Carter, or herself?

@tarnishedxknight - continued from here

Carter wasn't surprised to hear that Ashelia had been closer to Basch than everyone else she had known. Frankly, she had figured as much whenever her girlfriend spoke about him before he had been found, and... a part of her found it rather sweet, really. It was obvious how much he meant to her, how much good he was for her, and... it truly was a relief that he could remain a part of her girlfriend's life. Though... she wished the circumstances for them weren't so painful.

Her expression softened as Ashelia smiled sweetly at her, and she felt her heart flutter. But her smile faded as her girlfriend explained how they grew apart, and how much everything changed before she woke up here... And Carter felt her heart begin to ache for her as she reached out a hand and gently took hers, before she gave it a reassuring squeeze. But she stayed quiet, wanting to give Ashelia time to think it over, and--

She couldn't help but giggle as her words finally clicked with her girlfriend, and she gave a slight shake of her head. Her cheeks tinged pink as Ashelia kissed her cheek. "I- I was only tea-teasing, Ashe," she assured, and gave her hand another squeeze as she smiled. "You're- you're not hurting me at- at all. The- the way you always spoke a-about him... I'm- I'm glad he's back in- back in your life. You- you spending time with- with him isn't off-offending me. I- I know you have- have time for me, my- my love."

Besides, the longer she sat with it, the more Carter couldn't ignore that what sat inside her chest wasn't jealousy. At least... not in the way that made sense. And not in the way she wanted to acknowledge. Because she loved Ashelia - more than anything, really - but she also--

She quickly shoved that thought away before she could even fully process it, but... felt her heart sink as Ashelia chuckled awkwardly. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips, and an almost sadness gleamed in her dark eyes. But, she didn't comment on it, not wanting to say the wrong thing, and instead shook her head again as her girlfriend's attention suddenly snapped back to her after she spaced out. The sadness fading from her eyes as her smile widened.

"Of- of course you haven't," Carter soothed, and leaned in to kiss Ashelia's temple. "I- I know how much he- he means to you, baby, and- and I- I want you to- to be able to spend as- as much time with- with him as you- you want. You two nee-need each other. I- I know that." And even their closeness couldn't make her doubt her relationship with Ashelia. She wasn't afraid of losing her, that jealousy she felt wasn't caused by being threatened by Basch, and... she was probably just uncertain because she didn't share their history. She was the odd one out - that was it.

That had to be it.

She couldn't help but laugh as Ashelia nudged her with her shoulder, and Carter leaned into her with a grin. Her eyes sparkling with mirth as she tilted her head slightly. "I- I knew there was a- was a good reason why I- I like him," she joked. "I- I think you- you have a- a type, Ashe."

[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.

[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 

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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.

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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.”