#if youre crouched looking for something or sat even slightly hunched she will climb onto your back like the primate she is

[nerdie-faerie]

You've heard of goat yoga now get ready for 'I sat down for three seconds and now there is a toddler holding onto my back demanding I do yoga stretches so she can sit on said back like her own personal horse'

[imissjoongsmullet]

My Prince (6 - final)

Pairing: Minghao x reader

Genre: fluff/(angst)

Summary: Life is not exactly easy being the royal gardeners’ daughter but at least it’s simple. When you’re suddenly called upon to serve as the prince’s personal servant, things get a little more than complicated, especially considering the secret history you and the prince share.

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Warnings: general angstiness, a bit of a slow burn, very romantic, very soft, the fact that this will most likely become a long series cause I have no chill

Word Count: 6.5K

Author’s Note:

This final chapter finally fulfills the premise that this is in fact fluff. I promise I’m done breaking your hearts now, woohoo!

My Prince has grown so near and dear to my heart. I don’t usually write long fanfics so this was really quite special. I know I might sound overly dramatic or corny to some of you (and that’s okay). It’s just, I try to be intentional with everything I do. That’s why I wanted to do this right. That’s why I’ve gotten so attached. That’s why it’s taken me forever to finish as well probably haha!

This story is far from perfect. There are countless things that I would have liked to sculpt out more... but I think for that to have happened this would have to become a full on novel and that’s not what this was ever meant to be, so I’ve got to let go of those thoughts and just send it out into the world as it is.

In any case, I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed reading this story as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. As always, please let me know what you think. As a writer, any type of feedback makes my heart flutter~

Thank you for all the love and support ♥

►

You fell to the floor, your shriek buried in the chaos that surrounded you. There was so much noise so suddenly and none of it sounded good. Panicked, you raised your head to see the entrance to the room had been broken wide open and soldiers in silver and black attire were pouring in, brandishing swords, fire and crossbows. Yientan. Another cry left your lips as you scrambled backwards until you hit the wall behind you. They were here. They must have found out about the wedding and wanted to stop it before a legend could take away their power.

Strong hands grabbed you by the collar and you screamed out for help. You struggled in your attempt to pry the stranger off of you until you noticed the face that belonged to it.

“Come on!” Minghao ordered, dragging you up. He took your hand and set off at a sprint, leaving behind the bulk of the commotion. You could hear banging and screaming from other directions as well though. They must have the whole castle surrounded. Luckily Minghao knew all the secret, little passages attackers tended to overlook. It didn’t take long for you to realize where he was taking you. Before you could come to your senses, you were dragged through the heavy doors to Minghao’s private chambers and sat onto his bed.

“Stay here,” he said, kneeling at your side, clasping your palms in your lap, “don’t leave until it’s all over.” He got up and turned to leave.

“Wait!” you called, stopping him midway, “you can’t go out there!”

“I have to,” he replied stone faced.

“No!” Now it was you holding onto him. “Please don’t—” Your fingers dug into his robes with desperation.

“I have a responsibility,” he said, “I have to go—”

“Then I’m coming too,” you cut in but he shook his head.

“You can’t help,” he explained, “I can so I’m going.” He eyed you sternly for a few more seconds before softening. He sighed, brushing his hand over your cheek lovingly and finally saying, “do not follow me.”

“Hao, please,” you called as he pulled away. You ran to him just in time to keep him from shutting the door behind him entirely. Only a sliver of his face was visible in the gap.

“Stay safe,” he said, before vanishing.

In stunned silence you let the doors fall shut. You walked over to the bed and sat down because your legs felt shaky and your head dizzyingly light. Outside, the uproar continued to grow but Minghao had told you to stay. Your heart ached. It pulled and tugged at you, trying to get you to move but you couldn’t. You didn’t want to disappoint him. Your fingers wrapped around one of the silk pillows on his bed. Closing your eyes, you hugged the thing close. It was all you could do not to cry. You just wanted everything to be okay— for everything to go back to normal. But you supposed none of Minghao’s life had ever really been normal.

A loud crashing sound made you jump. Some large piece of glass must have just shattered somewhere. You got up from the bed and began to pace the room. You clamped your hands over your ears in a miserable attempt to shut out the madness. Shutting your eyes didn’t help either. The itch to do something was growing unbearable. When a few minutes later a crack so deep it was like walls crumbling made the wooden floor tremble, you decided that enough was enough.

Head in overdrive, you went for the window. Its balcony was wide and looked out over the east side of the gardens. Tonight, there were only balls of fire within the dark. With a sickening lurch, you thought of your parents. Had they managed to hide or escape? Or had the attackers set flame to their house while they slept, trapping them in an excruciating death? Panicking, you went for the balcony ledge. Once your feet found balance, you grabbed onto the ornate pillars and started to climb. The plan seemed insane and yet, somehow you felt like the adventurous prince had definitely made this climb before. With that information fueling your confidence, you made it onto the roof above the prince’s chambers.

From here, you could see most of the castle and its grounds. A landscape of hills and valleys lay before you in the form of various curved rooftops. It would have been quite beautiful if it hadn’t been for the screams and the fire. You didn’t know what you were doing, really. You just wanted to know everything was going to be alright. Besides, you’d never forgive yourself if something happened to Minghao while you hid away like a coward.

How many people were fighting down there? How much of a chance did they stand against Yientan? And what could Minghao possibly do in all this? You didn’t even know if he knew how to fight.

Hunching down to a crouch, you made your way toward the center part of the castle. You looked down wherever you could, trying to get a feel of the situation. You saw two servant girls running on a deck as they cried. You saw men fighting in little courtyards, blood staining their clothes. You saw the wooden walkway towards the prince’s library collapse in flames. All of this roused an anger in you that surprised you. You’d never been the bravest of people— you still weren’t. But something was taking over you. It didn’t matter that this castle had been the bane of your existence for the past few months. The castle was under attack and you felt it as you’d feel an attack on your own family. You jumped from roof to roof, wracking your brain over a way to help.

Something sharp whooshed past you and you gasped. You were just in time to turn around and see the Yientan soldier standing on a nearby rooftop, reaching for another arrow. You ducked away towards a lower part of the roof, suddenly feeling the sharp sting on your cheek. There were hurried footsteps behind you and you were running out of options. Your rooftopped landscape came to an end as you happened upon the center courtyard of the castle, where more soldiers fought.

Hoping fiercely you weren’t making the wrong decision, you jumped.

The landing was harsh and you failed to stifle the noise that fought to come out your mouth. A man dressed in silver and black turned your way.

Wasting no time, hopped onto the deck and dashed into the nearest corridor, running as fast as you could in your clumsy servant’s robes. You were disoriented and scared but also determent to outrun the soldier. The long hallways of the castle once again felt like a devious maze, trying to suffocate you. You turned a corner and half-fell-half-jumped down a narrow flight of stairs. Ignoring the sting in your left leg, you rushed along a half open deck, ducked under a low archway that lead you down to the underbelly of the castle. Here, it was pitch black except for the spaced out torch light that hung from the walls. Luckily, you knew where you were going. This lowest level of the castle was used for storage and servant work deemed too dirty to be looked upon by the masters. You took a right through a small door, finding yourself in one of the washrooms the servants used. Just as the soldier’s feet hit the wood floor behind you, you opened one of the closets and grabbed as many fresh sheets as you possibly could, throwing them over him. You watched him struggle for only the fraction of a second before escaping through a side door. You knew exactly where to hide.

You reached your destination within a minute, lowering yourself into a little crawlspace underneath the floorboards of the broom closet servants used to hide from Tou Ma when she was angry. You’d only have to wait a few minutes for the soldier to give up and leave and then you’d be safe. You were about to close up the floorboards when you heard the most dreadful sound in the world.

It was Minghao. He was screaming.

Without a second thought, you burst back into the corridor. You followed the echo of the scream in your mind. It wasn’t far off. It was right here, under the castle. You tried every door, finding deserted room after deserted room, wondering why Minghao was even here, hidden away from all the commotion.

Aside from the soldier that had followed you down, you hadn’t seen a single person down this low. Perhaps you’d imagined it, you thought, just as you slid through another open door you knew lead to the pantry.

The most shocking thing was not that Minghao was there; it was that the emperor of Namin was there too.

Minghao was knelt over his father’s form, shuddering slightly.

“Hao,” you whispered as you approached, an awkward feeling settling in your stomach. Something was very wrong. Tentatively, you knelt down beside the prince, gasping when you saw the blood. Panicked, you looked down, now noticing the dark trail on the floorboards.

“What— what happened?” you stammered. Minghao hadn’t acknowledged you yet. He was doubled over, tears falling down onto his father’s chest.

“Don’t leave me.” His voice was so thick with emotion the words were barely audible.

You knew the emperor wouldn’t reply.

“Please, father,” Minghao whimpered.

You’d never seen him like this; torn apart like an old book. Afraid of making things worse, you sat by and waited. The war outside didn’t matter now. You allowed his sobs to turn to quiet slowly.

When they had, Minghao straightened his back and looked at you. His face was red and blotchy. The pain in his eyes made you want to wrap your heart around him.

“He got shot,” he said at last. His hand reached out for yours and you took it, surprised at the tightness of his fingers around you.

“I found him back in the celebration hall I— I didn’t know what to do. I just knew I couldn’t let Yientan have him so I tried to find a place to hide him but by the time I got here he was barely breathing and—” fresh tears burned in his eyes, “he just— I can’t do this without him I can’t—”

“Hao— ” you started just as a creak in the floorboards made you both jump.

Over a dozen people shuffled into the room, each person looking more perplexed than the next at the sight of Minghao and the emperor. You blinked in surprise at the appearances of the Zhong family, a bit battered and stunned-looking but otherwise fine. Last to enter the room was Tou Ma. Her face paint had smudged, there was blood at her temple and her robe was ripped at the sleeve.

“Stay back, girls,” she said with a voice just as stern as ever before coming over. Her face turned grim the moment she got on her knees and took in the sight. Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared and her thin lips parted. She took a few moments to regain her calm. Gently, she flattened out a crinkle in her robe as she cleared her voice at last.

“My prince,” she spoke solemnly, “from the heart of Namin, I offer my deepest condolences.”

Minghao continued to stare down at his father’s chest.

“Tomorrow we mourn the end of the era— tonight—” she paused, her wrinkles tugging into a frown, “tonight lies in your hands.”

The words hung in the dusty storage room air, settling over the people within it, slowly, like bits of falling snow.

“My prince?” Tou Ma said and her voice was softer than you’d ever heard it.

Minghao hadn’t moved an inch. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking either.

Strands of messed up hair hung in front of his face as he looked down at the emperor. You knew Minghao understood what Tou Ma had implied. Now that the emperor was dead, Minghao was automatically in charge. It was time for him to fulfill his prophecy and become the legend he was destined to be. Except that Tou Ma hadn’t said it like that exactly. She’d left the decision up to him. Tonight lies in your hands. Somehow, you felt like the head servant understood the pressure that weighed on the prince. She’d left the course of action open so that, should he choose to do so, Minghao could hide away with the rest of the castle’s residents. Should he choose to do so, he could surrender to Yientan. It was up to Minghao to decide his fate, not some legend assigned at birth.

Finally, Minghao looked up at Tou Ma.

“My mother,” he said, “is she safe?”

“Of course, my prince,” Tou Ma replied at once, “she was my first priority. I sent her through the royal passage behind the west room tapestry before bringing others to safety. She must have reached the safe house by now.”

Minghao nodded. “Thank you.” He sat there, thinking for a few more seconds before he stood up.

“I’m going out there. Everyone else stay here.” His voice was monotone, matter-of-fact. “I have to speak to the emperor of Yientan and put a stop to this.”

No one spoke as he turned to leave the room. Even you were too shocked to speak. It was only after he’d left the room that you found the strength to move.

“Silly girl,” Tou Ma said, her voice sharp once more as she grabbed hold of your wrist, “this is the last time I tell you to stay away from him.”

You looked the head servant dead in the eye.

“Then this will be the last time I defy you,” you answered, breaking free from her grasp and running out of the room.

You caught up with Minghao halfway up the stairs. You tugged at his sleeve and called his name, softly, inquiringly. He looked back at you, looking apologetic.

“I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you,” he said quietly, “you’re already hurt.” His eyes went to your cheek, where the sting of the arrow still lingered.

You sighed. “And I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to you.” You took his hand. “Hao, please,” you went on, “whatever happens, let’s do it together.”

Slowly, a smile formed on the new emperor’s lips. It failed to erase the pain in his reddened eyes but rather coated them in a temporary haze. His fingers tightened around yours and he whispered, “okay.”

*

“Where are we going?” you asked as you tiptoed through the castle, slipping from shadow to shadow.

“I know where he is,” Minghao replied.

You knew he was talking about the emperor of Yientan. You had no idea what he looked like but you’d overheard plenty of conversations about him during your time in the castle. He was a fierce ruler and a strong man of combat.

“Wait, you’re not going to fight him, are you?”

“No,” he replied, “I’m going to talk to him.”

The throne room looked smaller than usual. A pillar had fallen, dust and debris littered the usually shiny hardwood and on the golden throne sat, not Xu Yilan, but a younger-looking man. He was broad-shouldered and his dark hair fell in a single braid down to his waist. His black and silver armor was still spotless aside from the couple droplets of red that had splashed onto his chest. You almost couldn’t believe he was an emperor and not a war general. Xu Yilan had surely never fought like this. Judging by the tenacity in his eyes, he was enjoying this. Upon noticing Minghao he raised himself from the throne, eyes narrowing.

“Emperor Wu,” Minghao spoke up as he walked to the center of the room.

You decided to stay in the shadows for now. It was better for the Yientan leader not to know a second person was in the room.

“My father, Xu Yilan, is dead by your men’s hands.”

You had no idea how Minghao was keeping his emotions at bay but it was clearly a good thing. The man on the platform drew back, his eyes going wide.

“You,” he said in a gravely voice, “you are Xu Minghao?” He spoke loud and clear but was unable to hide his uneasiness. It was in the way he stood, overly square, and in the stark way his eyes stared ahead.

“I am,” Minghao said, “and I want you to listen to me for a moment.”

Silence. This was good. 

“I do not want to fight you,” he went on, “I just want to talk. I want to restore the balance between Namin and Yientan.” He took a deep breath. “I want Yientan to give us back the highlands.”

A low yet booming laughter filled the empty throne room.

“You expect us to just give you back the highlands?” the emperor scoffed, “and what will Yientan receive in return?”

You watched Minghao as a silence trickled into the air. He was completely still, his mind probably racing like a warhorse.

“In return,” he said at last, his voice deep yet clear, “Yientan will be spared the dragon’s wrath.”

You could see the fear spring into the emperor’s eyes.

“You lie, young man,” he said, though it was obvious Minghao’s words had derailed him a bit. Slowly, the man unsheathed a long sword and pointed it at Minghao.

“There is no dragon,” he spat, starting to walk down the platform, “where is your dragon now, huh? Did it come when our people charged your gates? No, it did not.”

Minghao’s chest heaved but he stood his ground. You couldn’t understand how he stayed so calm. He had nothing to defend himself with.

“Did it come when your father was struck down by one of my men?” emperor Wu continued as he approached, “it did not.”

This was all wrong, you thought, panic taking over you.

“Up on the roof of this broken palace, a golden dragon stands, yes,” the emperor said, a wicked smile spreading onto his lips. He was getting too close.

“It is nothing but a symbol of wealth, a meaningless decoration!”

Minghao stood as a statue, defiant.

“It could not save your father, nor your people,” he grinned, “and it surely won’t save you.”

“Stop!” you screamed, breaking away from your hiding spot. Both men turned their heads in surprise, a moment you took to jump in between them, arms out, shielding Minghao from his attacker.

“Don’t hurt him, please!” you cried. You knew you were making foolish decisions but there wasn’t a single cell in your body capable of doing anything else in that moment.

Pain shot through your arm as general Wu grabbed hold of you.

“No!” Minghao yelled, immediately jumping for the general’s second arm in an attempt to tear the sword from his grasp. Your head spun as you were tugged around, the three of you in an awkward tangle until you heard a gasp that could only be Minghao’s. You watched him fall to the floor, clutching his side, where the fabric of his shirt started to color red.

You wanted to scream but before any sound had the chance to leave your lips, the whole room began to shake.

Emperor Wu backed towards the wall, dragging you with him and that’s when you heard it. An ear-piercing cry coming from somewhere up above. The ceiling cracked and gave away right where Minghao crouched. You cried out his name in a desperate attempt to save him when you realized the falling debris wasn’t crushing him. Instead, it turned to dust mid-fall, scattering over the floor like sand on a windy day.

Emperor Wu gave a startled shriek behind you. A massive creature burst through the broken ceiling with another deafening cry. It looked like a giant, glimmering snake with horns. Its fanged mouth was the size of two grown men and its golden scales reflected the devastation in the room. It curled itself around Minhao, who was still on hands and knees on the floor, obscuring him from view. “It— it’s— it can’t be!” the man behind you stuttered, shivering all over. You took the opportunity to yank yourself from his grasp.

The dragon let out a large huff and steam released from its dinner-plate-sized nostrils. You couldn’t help but feel a trickle of fear pulse through you as you approached the beast. But you had to trust.

The dragon’s body uncurled once more, revealing Minghao. He was standing; even more, he looked revitalized. A determent look had taken over his face. He stepped in front of the dragon and addressed the cowering emperor.

“As I said before,” he said, his voice strong and demanding now, “I don’t want to fight. I don’t want this war. Yientan and Namin can live in peace. Even better, we can make each other stronger.” He glanced at you and his eyes filled with warmth. “I know we are different but Namin will no longer fear those differences. It is by cooperating that we will learn and grow—”

The emperor scoffed. “And to achieve this peace of yours,” he grumbled, “I assume you want the highlands back?”

“They belong to Namin,” Minhao replied calmly.

“And what’s next?” emperor Wu went on, his pitch rising, “you’ll invade us with your big dragon protector and we’ll have to give up everything?!”

“No.” Minghao shook his head. “Namin doesn’t need any more. Just the highlands and harmony with Yientan. If you promise me these things, emperor Wu, this dragon will never be used for violence. It too can be a symbol of peace.”

The emperor of Yientan stood there, fighting a fight within himself. All you could do was wait. Minghao didn’t look scared anymore though. The dragon had taken his fear. The cold mask had vanished as well, leaving his eyes exactly the way you remembered them from years ago; kind, curious, inviting. Years of pressure had fallen off of his shoulders, allowing him to stand up straight and confident.

His gaze went to you for a moment and he reached out his hand.

Heart swelling with joy, you took it, feeling more than ever before, like you belonged.

Emperor Wu observed all of this with pain in his eyes. You still had no idea what the man was thinking but you felt safer now, so close to Minghao.

“Alright,” he said finally, starting to walk towards you, “you win, little emperor.” He shook his head in defeat. “You’ve still got a lot to learn about ruling and, mark my words, you will regret the things you’ve said today— all this talk about peace and harmony—” he stopped just a couple feet away from Minghao, “but at least for now, Yientan will bow to Namin.” He bent over into a ninety degree bow and Minghao let show just the tiniest smile. He was proud— and he should have been. You squeezed into his hand and felt him squeeze back when, all of a sudden, a lot of things happened.

Emperor Wu raised himself, drawing from a loop in his belt a tiny dagger and driving it into Minghao’s chest. At the same time, the dragon behind you let out a magnificent roar as it charged at Yientan’s emperor, knocking the breath right out of his lungs. All this time, you stood, frozen to the spot in complete and utter shock.

When you felt Minhao’s hand slip from yours, you cried out his name. You caught him as he staggered and the two of you landed with a soft thud on the floor. Panicked, your hands dove to his chest, looking for the stab wound as tears began to stream down your cheeks.

“Hey,” you heard someone say softly, vaguely but you didn’t have time now. You had to stop the bleeding.

Something took hold of your chin, lifting it. It was Minghao. He was smiling the sweetest smile and you didn’t understand.

“I’m okay,” he said, pulling aside his robes, revealing nothing but a light cut along his ribcage.

“Hao,” you sniffled as his thumb came to wipe away some of your tears.

“I’m okay,” he said again, nodding softly.

And so all the adrenaline fled your body. Without a second thought, you flung your arms around his neck and hugged him close. It was a hug such as you’d shared when you were children; one made of pure happiness. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close. You were still crying, sort of, but you were sure it was the good kind of crying.

A gentle hand landed on top of your head, patting it in a soothing manner. You took it all in, the feel of him, his scent, the way his heart beat against yours.

“Everything is gonna be alright now, right?” you mumbled into his chest.

You felt him sigh.

“I think so.”

*

The following days were some of the strangest of your entire life.

The emperor of Yientan wasn’t dead. The dragon had hit him pretty bad but it had ultimately left the decision up to Minghao. Minghao, who of course decided to have the foreign emperor nursed back to health by Namin’s finest doctors. He still believed that peace between the two lands was possible.

You and Minghao, along with all remaining castle staff, had temporarily moved into the castle gardens. Most of the garden staff huts had apparently been spared from the fight. It wasn’t spacious by any means, but it was enough for the time being.

Not that you didn’t have any other options.

News of the attack and especially the return of the dragon had spread like wildfire through the cities and towns of Namin. Wealthy traders and investors offered their own residences in honor of the new legendary emperor but Minghao had turned them all down. He said he wanted to help rebuild the castle.

“Besides, I don’t know if I’m ready to face them yet.” Minghao’s face was contemplative as you two sat overlooking the rose garden from a hilltop.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

He leaned back onto his hands. “I don’t know,” he said, “I’m not ready to be their legend, truly this time. How am I supposed to— after my father.” He shook his head. “I’m no better than him. He was just a man and so am I.” 

Up in the sky, the golden dragon trailed patterns in the afternoon clouds. It had fluttered around the gardens all day; a beacon of hope.

“I know I have a job to do but—” he said finally, “I still can’t help but feel like I’m losing something precious.”

You nodded, leaning your head onto his shoulder. “Things will be more complicated,” you admitted. It was true. You didn’t want to sugarcoat that for him. However, you weren’t worried.

“But you won’t be doing any of it alone.”

You could feel him start to smile as his arm slid around your shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Your majesty,” a tense voice said.

It was Tou Ma. You were surprised to find you were happy to see her.

“We have received word from your mother. She will be coming home in a few days. The Zhong family meanwhile have arrived home this morning. They are well.”

Minghao nodded, his face stony but a lot going on behind his eyes.

“Should I send word back?”

“No,” Minghao was quick to answer but then he caught himself, “I think I’ll write Zhong Mei and her parents a letter myself. They deserve that.” He was frowning to himself now. “And tell my mother I’m sorry— and can’t wait for her arrival.”

“I will,” Tou Ma said solemnly, her eyes trailing off. She was searching for words.

“What is it?” Minghao questioned.

Tou Ma pursed her lips.

“He is awake.”

*

You followed Minghao to one of the larger huts in the garden, where emperor Wu was being treated. The room was bare, save for a bed and a night stand upon which stood a bowl of water and a clean cloth. A middle-aged lady in simple blue robes stood by his bed. The moment she noticed Minghao, she fell into a deep bow.

“That’s alright,” Minghao said, taking her hands as she rose, “thank you for your amazing work.”

The woman went red in the face but smiled brightly back at him.

The emperor of Yientan still suffered a few bruises, one below his left eye. You couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy around him so you watched Minghao approach from a distance.

“How are you feeling?” he asked the man in the bed.

Emperor Wu let out a heavy sigh as his eyes landed on Minghao.

“I’ve been better,” he said.

There was a silence you weren’t sure of the meaning of. Minghao seemed to be waiting.

“I’ve sat here for a while now, you know,” he went on, “been awake since sometime last night— in and out of it most likely— but I’ve been thinking.”

The man in the bed looked nothing like he had during the battle. He’d been full of fire then. Now, he had a depleted look about him.

“Do you know what I was thinking?”

Minghao shook his head softly.

To your surprise, the emperor of Yientan let out a chuckle. Maybe he really had suffered brain damage after all.

“I was thinking, why am I in this comfortable bed?” he snickered lowly, “I thought I might have died. Thought it might be the afterlife. But then I was informed of your decision to let me live. To let me go.” His face went sad suddenly, brows furrowed. He looked almost silly.

“I realized I admire you, your majesty. You chose to spare the life of the man who invaded your land and took it for his own, the man responsible for your father’s death, the man that might have been responsible for your own death—” he let out another chuckle. “I thought you must be either mad or genius— I, um— I’m still not truly certain which one it is but I can say one thing for sure: you’ve got more bravery in that little body of yours than I’ve seen in any ruler of my lifetime. And I have no choice but to respect that.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Your hands were anxiously clutched in front of your chest.

“Thank you, your majesty,” Minghao said, his shoulders relaxing a bit.

Emperor Wu raised himself in the bed, took the cloth from the nightstand and wiped his face with it. When his face was revealed once more, he was smiling.

“Alright,” he said, looking up at Minghao, “let’s get this over with. Let’s talk.”

*

This is how Namin was restored. The highlands were returned and multiple treaties were formed between Namin and Yientan, promising peace and collaboration for all time to come.

Minghao hugged his mother close a few nights later, and a ceremony was held for the death of Xu Yilan. It was a sombre meeting in a nearby temple, the only other attendees aside from direct family the thousands of fireflies that lit up the air.

Then, finally, it was time to go public with everything that had happened. The coming of the legend emperor had to be celebrated and the people of Namin were not going to let that opportunity go to waste. Banners were raised, fireworks set off, as a magnificent parade made its way through the capital.

Throughout all this, you found yourself completely overwhelmed, not only because so much was happening at once, but also because Minghao wanted you to be a part of it all.

“Are you alright?” Minghao whispered into your ear.

You hardly knew how to respond to that. You were sitting in a luxurious golden carriage, wearing the most beautiful silk you’d ever laid eyes on. Layers of pale pinks and greens, adorned with gold thread fell from your shoulders. Your hair had been elegantly put together by Tou Ma herself that morning, with flowers and ribbons she’d handpicked for you. If all that wasn’t enough to make your heart do cartwheels, Minghao, the new emperor of Namin sat beside you, holding your hand while he waved at the people cheering. And there were a lot of people around you. It seemed as if all of Namin had come out to watch the procession. You weren’t as confident as Minghao, darting your hand up occasionally to wave at the public, only to change your mind the next second and put it back down.

“I’m terrified,” you replied, “ecstatic and overjoyed and terrified.”

“That sounds about right,” he said, grinning, “but don’t worry, we’ll be there soon.”

Surely enough, the procession halted in the main square of the capital. A tall platform had been put up in the center of it. As you’d expected, your carriage opened its doors right beside it. It was time for Minghao to give his speech. With one last smile in your direction he left for the platform. You watched him breath in and out, visibly shaking the nerves out of his body before he began.

“People of Namin,” he spoke loud and clear, “in the last week, a lot of things have happened and rumors have run rampant. I believe you all deserve to know exactly what has happened at the castle and what this means for the future of Namin.”

You looked in complete awe and adoration, as Minghao explained the events of the past weeks and even before that; the protests, the arrival of the Zhong family and their plans, the attack, death of Xu Yilan and finally, the legend of the dragon.

“It is true,” Minghao said, “the dragon lives once more.”

Just then, a bright glimmer fell all over the square and the people squinted upwards to see the golden dragon fly overhead.

“It will protect Namin for as long as I live and hopefully longer.”

The crowd erupted in jubilant cheers. Minghao took this opportunity to look back at you. You were suddenly highly aware of the ridiculously wide grin that had been plastered on your face ever since he’d begun his speech. He returned it gladly and, to your surprise, beckoned you to join him onto the platform.

Your eyes went the size of daisies as you vigorously shook your head at him. He only smiled kindly at you and turned back around as the commotion had died down mostly.

“My dear people, it has been a glorious day!” he yelled  “but I have one more announcement to make.”

This turned the whole crowd silent.

“Throughout the challenges of the past week I have had to be strong. In order for the dragon to arise, I’ve had to be strong. I’m the true leader, I’m Namin’s hope, I am a legend come to life— I’ve been hearing these types of statements all around and I would like to say that, while your praise is appreciated, I fear I’m not entirely deserving—”

“There’s a reason I’ve been able to be strong. There’s a reason I’ve been able to keep my head on the right track, there’s a reason I feel like I can be a worthy leader to you all and it is a reason entirely outside of myself.”

He turned back around to face you. Your face went hot when you realized he was actually coming down to fetch you. He took your hand, gave you the most loving smile and pulled you up.

Everything looked simultaneously tiny and overwhelming from up on the platform. Luckily you had Minghao holding onto your hand or you for sure would’ve fainted.

“I can be the leader I am because of this woman,” he said, “she has been the one thing that’s grounded me in all of this and if it hadn’t been for her, I’m not sure I’d be standing here making this speech today.”

Your heart was pounding out of control and you felt lightheaded. You were grateful when Minghao’s arm slid around your waist and steadied you.

“On this special day, we celebrate the resilience and rebirth of Namin,” Minghao stated confidently, “but I would also like to use this day to profess my undying love for the girl standing beside me.”

A sea of murmurs welled up from the crowd. Minghao came to face you again and suddenly, he looked less like an emperor and more like the boy you’d always known.

“I’ve always loved you,” he said quietly, “it’s always been you.” His hand came to hold your face gently. “I know the life I lead from now on will be full of challenges and responsibilities, it will be a life in the spotlight, maybe—” he sighed, “maybe nothing like the life you’d imagined for yourself but—” he was really searching for words now, his eyes darting in all directions until they finally landed back on yours.

“If you’ll have me, I would love for you to share that life with me.”

It was as if a collection of fireworks set off inside of you, shooting from the top of your head all the way down to your toes, setting you aflame. It was an overload of feelings. You didn’t even notice the tear trickling down your cheek until Minghao wiped it away.

“So, will you?” he asked, looking like he might collapse from nerves as well now.

The smile burst free from its own accord as the reality of the situation finally sank in.

“Yes, of course!” you let out and your arms flung themselves around Minghao’s neck.

Now the people of Namin were really cheering, their noise like drums in your head as you embraced Minghao. Even when you broke apart the cheering didn’t stop; it only grew wilder as Minghao pressed his lips to yours. 

In all your life you’d never thought this would be yours. Even as a child you’d known that Minghao, your playmate wasn’t to be wanted. He was different, above others, untouchable, and for years you’d struggled to come to terms with that grim fact. And yet here he was, in front of you and all of Namin, telling you he loved you. It was the beginning of a new era for Namin and it seemed that its residents were ready for change. And you were more than certain Minghao was the right person to lead the people with justice and, above all, love.

♥

[in3ptbean]

𝑵𝒆𝒘𝒃𝒊𝒆

Steve Harrington (DBD)  x Reader 

Summary: You are there to help Steve understand the Entities realm.

Check these out 

Masterlist  

Prompt List  

Warnings: Blood, death, the works 

(Not My GIF) 

The Entity dragging a pour soul into it’s game of cat and mice had become a regular thing. You’ve been around long enough to become unfazed by it; giving nothing more than an apathetic smile and light clap to the back to keep them on their toes.  

You awoke in the laboratory under an ominous mist. An unfamiliar roar echoed through the once white walls, your step momentarily faltering before you climbed up the steps of the laboratory.  Gagging at the sight of the mutilated scientist, you kicked him body off to the side slightly before walking into the small closet like space. 

“New place,” you muttered, kneeling before the generator, “Same fucking thing,”. You worked quickly and efficiently, known amongst the survivors as one of the most diligent and unhinged survivors the realm had to offer.  Another roar reached your ears, soon accompanied by the rhythmic thudding of your heart. You let go of the wires, smiling at yourself when it didn’t short-circuit, and glanced outside of the doorway.  

A tall brunette  clad in green nearly jumped when he saw you, a harsh intake of air causing him to choke slightly. You stepped out of the room, ushering him inside when you saw the red stain. 

The newest killer stood at the top of the steps, staring down at you with it’s lack of eyes. You’re heart was thudding against your chest, yet you made no move. You glanced at the brunette, noticing the puddle of blood underneath him before looking back at the monster. 

It roared the moment you took a step towards the doorway to  your right, \lunging as you the moment you booked it.  “Work on that fucking generator!” You said, glancing back at the boy before getting the killers attention once more. You hopped down the large hole in the floor, landing with a grunt before running down the hall towards a very promising room. The floor shook with each unwavering step it took, and a sudden heaviness caused you to glance back. It was practically on top of you, slobbering as it swung it’s claws towards your back. You grunted, nearly falling over due to the impact, but jumped over the railing an attempt to put some space between you and the killer. 

Turning left, you ran into Feng Min, who stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes widened when her hand wrapped around your own, and pulled you back. 

“What the fuck are you doing?!” You asked, the terror radius growing with every passing second. “Let me go you fucking dunce!” You threw you elbow back, harshly shoving her right onto the ground; right in front of the killer. You knew you would never hear the end of this; Feng would make sure of it. You sprinted passed the alien-looking creature, leaving Feng behind, and jogged  towards the upstairs in search of the newbie. 

The generator was near completion when Steve felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He jumped, whipping around as the generator blew up. Nancy gave him a thin smile before a pounding headache caused him to wince. A scream rang out, forcing Steve to turn back to the hunk of machinery after heeding your parting words. 

“I’m going to go help her!” Nancy said awkwardly before  going down the same hole you had fallen through a few minutes prior.  “Be care-” She was gone before he could even express his worry. “-ful.” 

“Hey Jockstrap,” He popped the generator, a low groan leaving his lips as pressed his hand to his bleeding side. Looking up just as you tossed him a med kit, he raised a hand in greeting.  “Start wrapping yourself up,” You continued, giving the boy an apathetic smile before glancing around. New realms were always tied to the newest survivor in some way shape or form.  “Thanks,” Steve groaned out, sitting against the wall, before popping open the med kit. 

“Sit up,” He looked at you questioningly. “Like a lunge. Increases you chances of getting away faster,” He looked at your stance before copying it, and continuing his self-heal. 

“I’m Steve,” He said after thanking you for the med kit. “not to be rude or anything, but how the hell did you get here?” You didn’t question his confusion, giving him a mere shrug before leading him towards the lower level. 

Question after question after question; that’s all this kid was full of. After explaining the realm and the Entity to him, Steve was in immediate denial. 

“Why can’t we fight back?” He asked, connecting the two live wires exposed on the midriff of the generator. “I’ve done it before,” He quickly assured. You rolled your eyes at the Indiana teen. 

“I’m sure you have, Harrington,” You mused, grinning at him as you worked on  a generator with Steve right at your side. “But if you have a problem with your current situation, you can take it up with HR,” He looked at you blankly before a grin rose to his lips; oblivious to the looming shadow growing from the portal on the ground behind him. 

It was in the midst of the your adrenaline burst, and the subtle nagging in the back of your mind that you shoved Steve to the floor.  The Demogorgon roared, overwhelming your pain-stricken scream. 

It was in the midst of your throbbing side and the rapid, unrhythmic thudding of your heart beating against your chest that Steve had grabbed your arm and was pulling you down the hall. 

Glancing back, you noticed the Demogorgon's hunched over crouch. 

“Sprawl!” You cried out, stopping Steve. 

“What?!” 

“Sprawl!” You let yourself fall to the floor,  pulling Steve with out as the Demogorgon flew over your heads. You scrambled up, glancing down at Steve’s balled up form before dragging him up and hauling ass  away from the stunned killer.  You knew Steve and yourself could hold off the killer for a while; after all, there were only two generators left. You just hoped that Nancy and Feng could pop them before one of you went down... 

Needless to say, the trial did not go to plan. 

The moment the rusty hook penetrated your should, you wanted to be consumed by the Entity.  Across the laboratory, Feng was crouched, not moving an inch. Nancy was running around in search of something, and Steve was sloppily working on a generator near the basement. 

You didn’t struggle, rather letting the Entity’s gangly tendrils impale your body; allowing your body to succumb to the rather pleasant void of nothing and silence.  

You awoke on the camp grounds, next to David and Kate. Oblivious to the rather heated glare  coming from the young Asian teen, you sat up, hand naturally falling to your side.

“How did it go?” Claudette asked, handing you a damp cloth for your hands. 

“You tell me,” You joked, smiling at the pink clad woman,  who merely shook her head, stifling a laugh. Glancing around, you noticed Steve sprawled out on the floor at your feet, unconscious and mumbling incoherently about ‘the lights’ and ‘flicking them on and off’. 

“You’re a bitch,” Feng hissed, bringing upon a silence over the camp. You simply cocked an eyebrow,  merely dismissing Feng’s comment until she brought up todays trial. “You literally pushed me into the killer-” 

“You were fine! Stop bitching around so much. You’re alive aren’t you?!” You interrupted her, now pushing yourself off of the log to stand, practically towering over the gamer. She scoffed, averting her gaze from your burning stare. 

“Just don’t be a dick,” She muttered. You rolled you’re eyes, the sudden caws of a crow getting your attention. It flew quickly, followed by three more omens. With a quick  swoop, it perched itself upon your shoulder. 

Another  landed by Felix, Cheryl and Steve. 

“Good luck,” Feng sneered. You rolled your eyes once more before taking your foot and nudging Steve’s head of hair.  His eyes snapped open, widening at the sight of you’re still alive form. 

“What the hell? I thought you were dead-” 

“So did it,” You feigned, helping him up. “Let’s go,” 

He groaned, glancing round the camp fire before jogging slightly to catch up with the trio now walking into the thick  wild surround the camp; unaware of the danger that waited in the trial ahead. 

[ldrmas]

Part 1

A Pirates Life for Me: A Beetlejuice Pirates of the Caribbean Part 1 Part 2 here - https://ldrmas.tumblr.com/post/647683249019207680/part-2 Character Sheet for those who have questions - https://ldrmas.tumblr.com/post/647688946637324288/pirates-characters - Not exactly where I wanted to start but this is already long so yeah, I hope you all enjoy! Please leave a comment or a reblogg telling me what you think. Again if there is dialogue that is a repeat of the movie I am not taking claim to it, I’m just admitting I’m not smart enough to come up with something better. Obliviously this whole plot and lines do not belong to me, they belong to the mouse, I’m just commandeering them for the story, savvy?  But still enjoy, me hearties!  - 

“May I have a moment?” Berthold asked as he came up beside her. Lydia had hidden in an alcove out of the blistering Caribbean sun as soon as the ceremony was over, but it hadn’t been enough. The new appointed Commodore had found her and actually wanted her to walk with him. She put all of her pain aside as she knew he couldn’t insult him by denying him, not with her father watching.

“You may.” She agreed with a slight smile as she followed him back out into the damning sunshine. They only stopped as they were along one of the several fort walls, away from others.

Lydia supported herself against the cold stone, but Bert didn’t take any notice of her pain just that she was a vision of true beauty. She didn’t reply to him as he said as such, but she made to send him another thankful smile, only for it to instantly drop as he turned away.

“I do regret with how forward I am but this…Well this promotion has thrown into sharp relief things that I have yet to achieve, such as a marriage to a fine woman.” The Commodore turned back to her, so lost in what he was trying to say that he again was ignoring her plight.

The corset was crushing her from all sides and her pale face was becoming even whiter as air was rejected from her lungs.

“You have become that fine woman, Lydia.”

“I…I can’t breathe.”  

“Yes, quiet so.” Bert chuckled as he turned away from her again, gazing out into the ocean and over the whole town that was under his protection. “I too am a bit nervous, I must admit.”

No one noticed, especially not Commodore Strong, as Lydia’s eyes suddenly closed, before as if she were no more than a heavy sack of potatoes, she fell over the wall of the fort, down the ledge to the clear water below.

~

“And then they made me their chief.” Beetlejuice finished his tale with a shrug as if it was no big deal. He was leaning against the Dauntless’s helm with his wrists flicking at every other word or so to emphasize the tale he was telling. The two militia men had been hanging on his every word as if he were a god and it was funny to him to watch them as he told his elaborate story. They were quiet expressive lads.  

They all jumped, and their necks snapped to the side as they heard a splash.

“Lydia?” Berthold asked as he turned about yet he was alone. The lady had just been standing behind him and now there was no one. He looked over the wall, his face going ashen as he saw the ripples and realization hit him like a shot.

“Lydia!” He yelled out before jerking off his coat. He only managed to get it halfway off before his friend was halting him and somewhat pulling him back from the edge.

“The rocks, sir! It’s a miracle that she missed them.” Prudentius said as he glanced at the water before looking back to his friend. Bert still wanted to jump but he knew his second in command was right. He then readjusted his coat and burst through the crowd. He had to make it the docks and hope that he could save her in time.

“Oi, will either of you be wanting to, oh I don’t know, possibly save the lass.” Beetle growled as the men didn’t immediately jump overboard to save the woman who had fallen into the ocean. If she weren’t already dead from the fall alone, she would rightly die if they didn’t jump in after her in the next few moments.

“But I can’t swim!” Mahon cried as he looked back to the green haired man then to where the woman had landed. Beej fixed his gaze on the other soldier, Mein, who instantly shook his head in confirmation that he couldn’t either.

“Jaysus…” He growled as he began taking off his gray coat and gear, shoving into the men’s arms so he could climb up onto the gunwale. “Pride of the kings navy you lot are, and if you lose those, I’m gonna haunt you!”

With the last threat, he was upon the railing then diving into the Caribbean chilling sea. He pushed his body through the water, having learned to swim to survive, and he when he made it to the rocky area, he sucked in a deep breath then was diving under the clear water. He could see her drifting like a mermaid, stuck to the sandy bottom, yet she wasn’t floating like a dead body should.

Beej locked his arms around her, kicking back to the surface.

He broke the water with her against his shoulder but unexpectedly they both sank right back down. A gulp of seawater invaded his lungs as they were back under the water, but he was clear headed enough to realize it was the dress. He pulled at the chest piece of the fabric, thankful that it split easily enough, and he was able to push it off her shoulders. The dress sank like a damn anchor, but he didn’t pay it anymore mind as he wrapped her back into his arms and headed back up to the surface.

~

“I got her. I got her.” The brown-haired soldier called out as he pulled the lass up from his broad shoulder while the golden haired one helped him back up to the dock.  

“She’s not breathing!” Mahon shouted before Beej rightly pushed him away, pulling a knife from his boot and slicing at the strings criss crossed over her chest. He then pulled the blush pink corset apart, opening it like a clam. The lass turned over, coughing and sputtered up the ocean water stuck in her throat, her hazel eyes opening only to squeeze shut again as she tried to bring air back into her sea drenched lungs.

Beej then pulled the corset completely off her, throwing it to the Mein, who caught it but wished to immediately drop it to the dock. Mahon was gazing at him as if he was a genius. “I…I wouldn’t have thought of that.” He admitted as he sat back on his hunches since the lady was safe and there wasn’t anything further he could do, as if he was any help before.

The green haired pirate deeply rolled his eyes. “You haven’t been to Singapore, have ya?” He asked with a sarcastic bite, yet all words further died on his tongue as a glint of gold twinkled from between the Lass’s unbound chest.

He usually would have been fascinated just from the sight of the drenched lady, who was in nothing but a white chemise. It hid nothing from his view, yet he ignored it all, as his focus was completely on the gold chain and coin at its end. He plucked the necklace up between his dirty fingers as his eyes widened at the coin on the end, the skull smiling at him in taunt.

“Where did you get that?” Lydia gazed up at him. She was shivering and still sucking in deep breaths of air as she completely took in the man who had rescued her. This strange and unusual man had saved her life. She barely remembered what had happened, but she wasn’t a fool. It didn’t take much for her to realize she must have fainted and had somehow survived after having fallen off the forts wall.

She didn’t get a chance to answer him, fore nothing further could be said because suddenly the dock was overflowed with soldiers. Beetlejuice froze as the chilling press of a blade was right at his neck just below his jaw. His hands that were still dripping from the ocean slowly rose upward as he reluctantly let the coin slip from his fingers. The two men who had been talking to the pirate were back to their full height flanking the still crouching man between them.

“On your feet.” Berthold ordered as he stood in front of the man who was hunched over Lydia. The green haired man rose promptly upon his boot covered feet and even made to back away just enough for the sword to barely touch his skin.

Charles pushed through the men before helping his daughter up off the dark wooden deck and wrapped her up in his powder blue coat. He jerked her closer as he realized she was only in her under layer of dress before his eyes flew wide as he recognized the pink corset in the soldier’s hand. Mein realized instantly what the governor was looking at. He immediately dropped the article of clothing before pointing an accusing finger to the man at his left.

“Shot him this instant!” Charles barked as he made to hug his daughter who unexpectedly pushed him away, calling out to him in protest. An understandable question fell from him before she then shot her hazel steeled glare to the other man across from them.

“Commodore, you truly mean to kill the man that saved me?” Lydia out right asked as if she dared him to challenge her. Bert made to look slightly ashamed, though it was only for a moment, his glare hardened his visage while he put away his sword. The militia were hesitant but eventually followed his lead and too lowered their guns, the clicks of the safety’s echoing around them all.  

Beej took a moment to bow his head in thankfulness to the Lass, placing his hand over his blackened heart. He made sure not to move though fore he could tell it wasn’t going to be that easy, especially when the Commodore stuck out his hand.

“I believe thanks are certainly in order.” He ceded though there was a challenge in his expression, a brown eyebrow raised high. Beetle settled him with a glare before he reluctantly shoved his ashen and dirty hand into the sun kissed one. Once their palms met, Bert jerked off his wrist band that showed off what they both knew to be there. The impression of a capital ‘P’ still pink and standing out upon his whitish hued skin after all these years.

“Ah, had a brush with the East Indian Trading Company, did we, pirate?” The Commodore spat out the word as if it was venom. Beej didn’t even flinch at the accusation, only gently let his hand fall back to his side when the man let his hand go as if it had burned him.  “And if I’m not mistaken…you’re that one fellow that starts with a K…”

“It doesn’t matter, hang him!” Charles growled his hold on his daughter still crushing. Lydia pushed off his hands but pulled the coat tighter around herself to silence his unspoken fussing. Her eyes kept darting over to the now recognized pirate with hidden intrigue, though she made sure to drop her gaze whenever she felt her father looking down upon her.

“If I may, it’s Beetlejuice Kreaton, sir.” Bert’s second in command spoke up with a teasing grin.

“Ah yes, thank you, Prudentius. Fetch us some irons for Beetlejuice Kreaton, the ghost pirate.”  Bert now recalled the name from the wanted posters they had around the fort.

“Captain Kreaton, if you please.” Beej replied while he flicked a hand through his soaked two-tone locks to get them out of his face. His ringed hand glinted in the Caribbean sun, along with his doubloon-colored eyes.

“I don’t happen to see your ship about, do you, Captain?” Bert mocked as his eyes swept over the harbor, both in joking and secretly in fact double checking that a pirate ship hadn’t pulled into the harbor while he was away from the fort.

“I’m in the market, but sadly got held up, ya know so I could be saving your pretty strumpet here.” The pirate teased back flawlessly as he cocked a grin to the lass he had spoken about, who stared unbelieving at him before her face fell into a glower.

“Sir, he said he came here to commodore one.” Mein took that moment to speak up, and Beej held himself back from rolling his eyes, of course the guardsman would blab of his plan.

“Told ’ya…” Mahon muttered before he realized something. “Oh sir, these are his.” The red coated man picked up the pirate’s effects into his arms and proudly held them out to the man in charge, as if he had single handedly taken them from the pirate. The same pirate who was now deadly glaring at him before it shot to the Commodore, who was looking over his belongings with a look of disdain.

“No additional shot, nor extra powder.” Bert analyzed as he picked up the pistol, silently admiring its craftsmanship before returning it to the pile. He picked up the compass and opened it only to then scoff. “A compass that doesn’t point north.” After he put that back, he took the hilt of the sword to barely remove it from its sheath, another teasing grin curving upon his lips.

“And here I believed this to be made of wood.” There was a resounding click as the sword was secure once again and the two men stared at each other, locked in a deadly impasse. “You are no doubt the worst pirate I have ever heard of.”

Beej chuckled, his lips wide enough to let his alabaster canines to glint through. “Yet you have heard of me.”

The tone was nothing but mocking and Bert’s face completely fell in silence rage, his teeth clenching as he reached out, securing a hold upon the man’s arm and began dragging him through the swarm of men. The red coated navy men parted for their boss, not daring at all to get in the way of the Commodore. It was just when he passed the pirate to his second in command, did he freeze for a voice called out to him.

“Commodore, I really must protest!” Lydia barked as she had followed Bert at his heels, effortlessly moving around him as he stopped at her voice. She had thrown off the coat from her shoulders, her father picked it up as he moved after her. She stood between Berthold and the pirate, fixing him with her hazel eyes that were shimmering with an unknowable plea.

How could they hang the man that had rescued her?  

“It matters not what he is, this man saved my life.” She insisted as her gaze jumped back and forth from her father to the Commodore, hoping that either of them would agree with her. It never happened, Bert stepped forward as if to pull her away but hesitated as she rightly jerked backwards.

He sighed as his coffee-colored eyes pleaded with her to understand. “One good deed does not redeem a lifetime of evil, Lydia.”

“It’s enough to condemn him, apparently.” Beej spoke up so not to hiss as Prudentius soundly secured the irons around his wrists. He also did well to hide his surprise as the same man then stepped away, to retreat at a fair amount of distance nearly back at Bert’s side.

“Indeed.” Bert growled as his eyes settled once again on the pirate.

“Finally.” Beej whispered with a devil like grin. In the next blink he had thrown his locked-up hands around the Lady’s neck, instantly jerking her back until she was flushed against his form. The soldiers all tensed, stepping forwards to interfere with his plan but certainly halted as Lydia yelped at the press of the chilling metal sinking into the skin of her neck. Charles dropped his coat, wanting to jump to his daughter, but Bert put an arm to his shoulder, keeping him back.

“NO! Don’t shoot! Do not shoot them!” The Governor pleaded out the order, his voice laden in sadness as all he could do was watch the pirate wrap his arms about his only child. The Captain smirked against her skin as he kept a secure hold upon her, completely ignoring her crying father to focus completely on the only man who could get him out of here.

“I knew you’d see it my way, now,” Beej said with a defiant glare. “Commodore Strong, my effects, please. And I mean all of them, mate.”

Bert didn’t move as his eyes swept over the captor and victim, his mind running with thoughts as if he could find some way to get the Lady out of the grimy hold of the swashbuckler. Beej growled as he tightened the chains around the Lass’s neck, easing up only when a pained gasp sang from her throat. The throat that was going to be bruised later, there was no doubt.

“Commodore.” Beej barked and this time the man moved, turning about to collect the things from Mahon. When he turned his back to them, Beej pressed his lips to the Lass’s ear, easing the pressure on her neck once again.

“Lydia…it was Lydia, wasn’t it?” He asked, a smile tugging his lips up.

“That’s Miss Deetz to you!” She growled in reply, her eyes closed calmly, though her stance read something completely different. He could feel her trembling against him, and he knew it was half from the icy ocean and half because she was at his mercy.

“Miss Deetz,…” He echoed with a playful tone before shooting Bert a glare over her head.

“…if you’d be so kind. Come on now, we’re losing daylight…” The Commodore placed the effects into her arms and only when he had stepped back did Beej move his hand down taking his pistol from her. It was nothing to instantly cock it and press it to her temple before twirling her about in his hold. He didn’t have to keep the chains at her neck anymore since a gun had taken the threat, so he placed his hand just upon her shoulder while the tips of his fingers traced along the fine still soaked squid ink hair along the base of her pale swan like neck.

“And now if you’d be awfully kind.” He mused with a grin full of his white glinting teeth. Her hazel steeled glare would have killed lesser men, but Beej took the death of the look in stride as she began to place his items back on his persons.

He couldn’t help chuckling as she shuffled with the items in her hands looking about him as if to decide where she was supposed to put each piece. She then took the cord of leather attached to the compass, probably wanting to loop it around his belt but went to drop it into his breeches pocket instead. He would have to make sure to secure it later when he was getting away from this. It wouldn’t do to lose his greatest treasure just because the Lass didn’t wish to have her hands at his waist. The last object was his belt for his cutlass.

She sneered at him as she had to undo the large clasps then throw her arms around him so she could reattach it to his body. The poor lass was shorter than him so she had to lean up on her tip toes to reach and he couldn’t help wrapping his arms about her to bend down so that she could do her task. He nuzzled his head into her neck, sending the Commodore a broad grin that was nothing but smugly victorious as she looped the dark leather over his shoulder then pulled the belt back to his front.

As she pushed him back so she could redo the buckle, he grunted. “Easy on the goods there, Lass.”

“You’re despicable.” Her voice rumbled as her eyes at last looked up at him down her nose with nothing but resentment and scorn. She was fierce and unafraid with a gun pressed to her head and it was admirable. He shrugged at her words, his face dropping into a neutral visage.

“Sticks and Stones…” He replied, making sure their eyes connected as he continued. “You saved my life, and I saved yours, we be squared now, luv. Gentleman…” He shouted as he suddenly turned her back around and began to back them up. She could do nothing but follow as the black chains were once again pressed into her neck. The gun was still pressed pointed at her head, yet it was no longer pressing against her skin as he whispered into her golden pierced ear.

“My dear…” He shot his gaze up to the men who were slowly following them before he grinned. “Remember this as the day you almost caught Captain Beej Kreaton.” At the mention of his name, he released the Lass, pushing her into the crowd of militia then instantly turned on his hampers running to a rigging. His boot hit the latch and he was propelled up into the air before anyone could touch him. The men scattered as a cannon was dropped upon them, some of them even falling through the hole it created.

Beej had grabbed hold of another rigging though sadly the wooden structure continued to spin him around so he yelped as he could only hold on as he went on and on in circles.

“Now will you shoot him!” Charles barked as he had held onto his daughter who had been pushed more into the Commodore’s hands than his own. He would have pulled her to him, but Bert was holding onto her instead. The said commander yelled out the order to open fire.

Bullets zinged passed Beej and he yelled out as he couldn’t do anything to dodge them. He finally managed to swing upon the next rigging structure, and he put the ungodly chains to his use. He threw the black manacles over the rope using them to zipline down the brown line, until he deemed he was close enough before deciding to let go, soundly landing on the deck, and without missing a single step continued to run along the bridge into town. The militia shot at him but missed though there were screams of village people who fell behind the bridge wall to avoid the incoming fire.

“Prudentius…” Bert growled as he came up the stairs then around the structures just to catch the glimpse of the pirate disappearing into the maze of streets that led into the vastness of the town. “Kreaton just happens to have an appointment with the gallows at dawn, we can’t allow him to miss it.”

“With me, men.” Prudentius ordered as he took a group of the red wool coated men to follow where the pirate had disappeared too. 

~

“Search everywhere!”

“Look lively, men!”

Men draped in the color red flooded the streets of Port Royal searching every nook and cranny for the pirate. The said pirate had been hiding behind a statue that was attached to the blacksmiths shop. He had taken out his sword and slid it into the fist of the stone man so that the soldiers wouldn’t take a second glance it’s way. He waited until he heard the navy men had passed by before removing himself from behind the statue only to freeze as another group of militaries were going off to his left. He quickly ducked into the blacksmith shop to get out of sight. The shop appeared empty which was good, he had to get out of the chains. There had to be something here that he could use to get them off. He took a moment to not only catch his breath but also reattach his compass to his side. A clank suddenly echoed behind him and he turned about looking at what made the noise.

In the back of the shop there was the shop owner, dead asleep while propped up in a chair.  

Beetlejuice made his way over to him curious if his life was about to be jeopardized because of a single man. He came up to the man nudging him with a grimy finger. The man grunted yet otherwise remained absolutely still and deeply fast asleep. The man didn’t seem to be moving from touch but what about sound.

“YO!” Beetle suddenly shouted nearly right into the blacksmith’s ear. Nothing. The man didn’t even flinch. The pirate nodded in happiness as he then shuffled back over to the tools and began to pick them up. He had to get these manacles off.

He took a hammer and began banging on the black iron but it had no effect. He was running out of options and time. He couldn’t hide in here forever. Beetle suddenly noticed the gears above the donkey. He tilted his head as he figured he could try those. Now it was just about getting the donkey to move, his gaze went to the poker in the fire and a smirk curled his lips up.

The donkey bayed loudly in pain before beginning to move about in the circles. The only way he could move. Beej felt slightly guilty but he ignored it as he threw the chains upon the boards and with a louder clank of the gears the irons were broken in half. It wasn’t ideal but he could at least move his arms freely now.

The victory was short lived though for the blacksmith door opened and the apprentice was coming inside.  Beej quickly hid as the blonde-haired lad closed the door behind him but gasped at the sight of the donkey going in circles.

“Easy Fox, easy!” He called out to the poor animal wrapping his arms around him to calm the donkey, rubbing his fur gently. Once he was sure the animal was alright, he sighed as he began taking off his coat then glancing where he was sure Colin was still sleeping. His master was indeed still there, and he shook his head.

“Just as I left ya, for goodness sake.” He didn’t know why he was so irritated, this wasn’t anything new.

Once Colin curled up in a place, he would be out for hours maybe even afternoons on end, yet for some reason today it was just stinging him with an unexplainable anger. It might have been because of Governor Deetz not giving him the compliments for his work, it was all for Colin who had done nothing to get the sword done. Then he heard of the disturbance at the Commodore’s party where some pirate had attacked Lydia. He swore if he saw said pirate, he would tear him limb for limb for dare touching her.

“Wait a minute…” He suddenly said as he looked to his anvil, his brows pinching as his hammer was resting along the black metal. “I didn’t leave you there.”

A laugh echoed in his ear and a cold metal was suddenly resting along his throat. He froze as he could feel a body pressing along his back. “Hiya, lad.”

Dominic managed to look over his shoulder without getting cut and he instantly growled as the sight of man who was holding his life in his hands. “You! You’re the one who attacked Lydia, the pirate.”

“Oh, maybe you didn’t hear, but I saved her life as well.” Beej chuckled as he rolled his eyes. “Why do you care?”

Dominic pushed away from the pirate and Beej reluctantly let him step away as he quickly unsheathed his sword keeping the lad back while he placed his dagger back in his sash. The younger man turned to face him, his moss green eyes glaring at him as he kept out of reach of the sword. He jerked back grabbing one of the swords in one of the holders that was scattered along the shop before leveling it with the pirates.  

“She’s my friend.” He sneered as he fell into a basic stance, one that he had to teach himself since he never had true training. “And you threatened her.”

Beej smirked as he mockingly ran his own sword up and down the one in the lad’s hand. “Just a tad.”

Dom jolted towards the taller man, but the pirate was quick to jump back, before they began to circle each other, sizing each other up and waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The apprentice moved again, swinging his sword to the right though Beej effortlessly blocked it.

After being given to Colin when Captain Strong had brought him back to Port Royal, Dom had been designing swords for years. He had a natural talent for it so while he spent years making the weapons, he also made sure to practice with them. It was again the basic of basic skills, but it was better than nothing. He was glad he had for he was keeping up with his opponent. He flicked his wrist, his sword colliding into the pirate’s with a resounding clang.

“Well now,” Beej mused with a wicked smirk as he eyed the lad across from him. “You seem to know what you’re doing, form is meh. Now, how be your footwork?”

He took a step to the right, Dom matching his strides as their blades connected in the air. “Good, good.” Dom sent him a challenging smile only to quickly draw back then slash at the man while stepping back into the pirate’s space. Beej gave a cocky grin as he blocked the sword flawlessly. “Gutsy, arn’cha?”

The swords clashed over and over again through the air, the metallic clangs echoing repeatedly over the shop. Beej’s took a second to let his eyes sweep over the building, nearly paling at countless racks of swords on the walls and on the two circle structures off to the side of the shop. “Jaysus, who the hell makes all these?”

“I do!” Dom barked while deflecting the jabs of the pirate. “And I practice with them all, several hours a day.”

“Find yourself a girl already, lad.” Beej retorted with a bright wide smile. He then hummed as he made their blades connect above their heads, near getting into the lad’s space. “Or, perhaps you do all that practicing, ‘cause ya already have one and are completely unawares on how to woo said Lass. Do you need some lessons from someone more experienced, mate?”

“I practice so that when I meet pirates, I can run them through!” Dominic roared as he backed away then lunged back at Beej, swinging his blade in a wilder style that was nothing to Beej, for he blocked it all as he laughed only to gasp as the lad had backed him up onto a cart.

The lad followed him onto the cart which instantly tipped under the weight of the two of them. The men were swaying as the cart went up and down for just a moment then instantly landed on Beej’s end. He was obliviously bulkier than the apprentice, who nearly fell to the pirate’s side with the jerk of the cart.

Beej laughed as it was that the lad didn’t have great balance, which was Beej’s advantage from living his life on ships. Dom kept to the higher end of the cart diving back into the fight. The clank of their swords was now a becoming sound in their ears. It had been too long since Beetle had a good sword fight and even though his opponent could use some more work, he definitely wasn’t giving up.

It was admirable.

Beej then jumped off the cart causing the weight to shift sending Dom tumbling across the dirt caked floor. He recovered quickly enough to see the pirate trying to escape and that was not going to happen. He yelled out as he threw the sword, it flew through the air ending stuck into the door just above the latch.

“No, you brat!” Beej growled as he couldn’t open the door. He turned back and lunged for the lad, who already had another sword in his hand. They danced around the space before Beej grabbed the bag that was hanging close to the fire, the shops dust hitting Dom right in the face. In the time it took the blond haired man to recover, grabbing one of the tools for defense, the pirate had a gun pointed to his temple.

“You cheated!” Dom frowned as he eyed the gun.

Beej raised an eyebrow before shrugging. “Pirate.”  

Nothing further could be said for it was then that the front door to the blacksmith's shop began to rattle. The shouts of soldiers calling out for the door to be opened singling that it was time for Beej to go. It was only then that he also realized the younger man was still in his way. The lad realized it as well instantly jumping between the pirate and the second door, Beej’s only way out.

“Move it!” Beej barked as he stepped closer, but Dom held his ground.

“Not a chance!” Dom growled as he dropped the tool but still steeled his body between the pirate and the exit.

“For Blimey sake, kid, just move!” Beej was near begging. The soldiers would storm this place any minute and as much as he didn’t want to kill, he couldn’t be caught either.

“NO!” Dom barked now, his green glare nothing but defiant. “I will not step aside allowing you to escape.”

Beej growled as he clicked the safety. “This bullet doesn’t have your name on it, ki-” Dom’s eyes widened as a glass shattered around the back of Beej’s head. The pirate’s eyes closed, and he slumped forward, landing soundly upon the dirt made floor. Colin smirked at his apprentice as he had been standing behind the pirate and had crashed his rum bottle upon the pirate’s head, knocking him out. It was just then that the navy stormed into the shop.

“Well done, Mr. Hampshire.” Berthold complimented as he came alongside the blacksmith, glancing at the unconscious pirate. “You aid in the capture of a dangerous man.”

“Just doing what anyone should do, sir.” Colin grunted as he let the broken bottle fall to his side so not to cut the Commodore.

“Right, well then, I’m sure you all will remember this as the time that Captain Kreaton almost escaped, now take him away.”

~

[endof-theline]

Day 11- Tropetember: Time Travel

This is day 11 of super early Tropetember and I've gone with the prompt Time Travel! When Tony fell out of the portal, no one was sure what to expect... but it certainly wasn't a sixteen year old.

On Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32515678

“Holy shit, you’re Captain America” Tony blurted out as he blinked open his eyes, his body screaming in pain for some reason but the blonde hovering over him had taken his focus. This wasn’t some random blonde that was playing dress up, this was the real Steve Rogers in the real suit and he was hovering over him for some reason.

“Just figure that one out, Stark?” Captain America asked with a laugh before he started to look worried as Tony’s eyes flicked to the other people hovering around him, he didn’t know them but one was a huge, green, monster and the other looked like he was a play his mother would have dragged him too as a kid. Tony slowly realised that he was laying on his back in the middle of the street and the pain running through his body wasn’t the usual pain from Howard.

“Where am I? Who are they?” Tony asked as the panic started to bubble up in his chest, when he tried to sit up the pain in his chest made him gasp and realise that he was trapped in some kind of suit of armour “What the fuck is this?”

“You better not be kidding, Stark” Captain America warned him with narrowed eyes, Tony’s breathing had started bordering on hyperventilating as the other blonde guy knelt down at his side.

“I fear the portal has messed with his mind” Huge Blonde said to Captain America as Tony was left on the floor in a mess of confusion as fear.

“What portal? What are you talking about?” Tony questioned them and couldn’t help the tears of frustration beading at the corner of his eyes as they both ignored him, Captain America pressed his finger to his ear.

“We got a situation on the ground, Iron Man’s alive and responsive but seems to have some kind of amnesia” Captain America said and nodded along to whatever response he could hear, Tony wanted to shrink away as a woman with bright red hair came running over and glared at him like he was a puzzle she couldn’t work out “Do you know her?”

“No, should I?” Tony asked in reply and the redhead just shook her head as Captain America nodded at him, Tony just swallowed thickly as the panic started to creep back to the front of his mind “Don’t suppose you know how to get me out of this thing?”

“I do” Redhead said bluntly as she knelt down and messed with something on his side before the suit opened up and let Tony scramble out of it, his eyes going wide as he stared at what he had been trapped inside.

“Fuck, that’s so cool!” Tony laughed excitedly as he started to poke and play with the suit, he had kind of been right by calling it a suit of armour “Did my dad make this? How was I in it? You still haven’t answered my questions”

“Is it me or does he look younger?” Redhead asked before making Tony yelp when she grabbed his chin and turned his face to look at her, her eyes narrowed at him again as Captain America looked over her shoulder curiously.

“Definitely looks younger, smaller too” Captain America pointed out as Tony realised that the clothes he was wearing were hanging off of him slightly, almost like a kid wearing their parent’s clothes “How old are you, Tony?”

“I’m sixteen, answer my questions” Tony said bluntly as he pulled his chin out of Redhead’s grip before the monster roared and Tony cowarded away from it as it stumbled to its knees, the monster slowly shrunk down and changed to look like a normal man as Huge Blonde quickly threw his cape around him to cover him up since he was completely naked.

It didn’t go unnoticed when Tony flinched as a black car sped over to them and skidded to a stop, the man climbed out and even looked surprised to see Tony staring back at him “Anthony?”

“Nick!” Tony chirped as he scrambled to stand up before wheezing and falling back to the ground as the pain gripped him tighter, his vision blacking out for a moment and when he managed to open his eyes again Nick was crouched in front of him “You look different”

“So do you” Nick shot back making Tony smile before accepting his help to pull him slowly to his feet and Nick startled when Tony immediately hugged him tightly “Forgot you’re a hugger”

“Only for you, Aunt Peggy, Ana and Jarvis” Tony mumbled before letting go and moving to stand at his side as he looked over at the people around him who were looking at him with a mix of shock and confusion “Will you tell me what’s going on? No one’s talking to me”

“When we get to Shield, I’ll explain” Nick told him firmly and Tony huffed but nodded in agreement, he jerked into Nick when vans pulled up around him “Settle, they’re with me”

Tony just nodded and stayed glued to Nick’s side as the people who were around him when he opened his eyes helped move the suit into one van before climbing into another one, another blonde man came running down the street and grinned at Redhead before climbing into the van as well without even glancing at Tony. Nick led him into the car he came in and Tony stayed silent as Nick followed the vans back to, Tony assumed, Shield.

As soon as they were in Shield, Tony was whisked away to medical and fought with the doctors and nurses around him when they tried to touch him until Captain America came in and sat with him, the Captain held him as he realised there was something stuck in his chest and the doctors made him promise to leave it alone even as he panicked and cried in fear over the blue light in his chest.

Once the medical team left, Tony was left with Captain America sitting on the edge of the bed as Tony balled himself up and trembled nervously. It was clear that something had happened to him, he wasn’t even sure if it was the same year as he remembered since Nick had looked older and the technology was wildly different to what he knew.

“Tony-” Captain America started and Tony peaked out from under his messy hair “I understand this must be very frightening for you, believe me I would know, but all I’m asking is that you stay calm”

“Why won’t people tell me what’s going on?” Tony asked with a sniffle and Captain America’s shoulders hunched at the sound of his voice, a whimper slipping out his mouth when the other man said nothing before he couldn’t stop the tears again. He managed to stop himself from screaming but he still flinched and yelped when Captain America put his hand on Tony’s arm “Please don’t hit me!”

“Hit you?!” He exclaimed back and Tony’s eyes went wide as he realised that he had blurted that out, he scrambled off the bed and back when the blonde stood up “Tony, I’m not going to hit you”

“I’m sorry!” Tony squeaked out nervously, the promises Howard made of getting the man in front of him to beat him if he misbehaved repeating in his mind as he backed himself up against the small “I’m sorry, Captain, please don’t hurt me”

“Oh god” Captain America whispered as he tilted his head back up to the ceiling before crouching down in front of Tony with a gentle smile on his face “Tony, I swear to you, I’m not going to hurt you in any way. No matter what anyone has told you, I’m not going to hurt you”

“Y-You promise?” Tony asked hopefully, Captain America had been his hero and Tony had always loved him but seeing him in person and seeing just how big he actually was put some things into Tony’s mind.

“I promise, I won’t ever hurt you” Captain said confidently before he suddenly had to catch Tony in his arms as the teenager fell into him and sobbed hard into him “I’ve got you, you’re safe with me”

“Dad said you were gonna beat me!” Tony choked out helplessly, years of fear pouring out of him as his hero held onto him tightly and let him cry without shouting at him for it.

“Never, I would never do that” Captain whispered to him as he moved to sit on the floor instead, Tony almost sitting in his lap as he leaned into him heavily.

The door opened with a soft click and Tony tensed up and moved to bolt at a moment’s notice, he peaked over Captain’s shoulder to see that it was just the redhead and the man who was the monster had walked in and neither looked angry at him for crying. The man who had been the monster just walked over and sat down with them instead.

“Hi Tony, my name’s Bruce Banner” He introduced himself with a smile on his face that looked kind and it made Tony feel safe as he smiled back to him “I’m not a medical doctor, but I am a kind of doctor so I’ve been looking into what happened to you when Steve, Thor and I woke you up”

“Thor’s the big blonde guy?” Tony asked curiously and Bruce just nodded at him before Tony motioned to Redhead “And who’s that?”

“Natasha” She told him, still blunt, so Tony just nodded slowly and looked back to Bruce who smiled softly at him again.

“It looks like you went through the portal in this time, a younger version of you came out of the portal” Bruce explained and nodded when Tony motioned at himself for the younger version “It might be some sort of time travel or something along the lines of it, Thor’s gone to ask his people if they know anything about it, and we don’t know how long this you is going to be around or if it’ll ever change back to how things were. But, and I want you to really listen to this, you need to understand that young or old, you have a place with us as your teammates and we will always look after you”

“O-Okay, what do you mean by teammates? What team was I on?” Tony asked since it was clear that everyone else knew what Bruce was talking about because they were all nodding in agreement with him.

“You were a part of a team called The Avengers, it’s me, you, Natasha, Bruce, Thor and Clint who I’m not sure you’ve spoken to yet” Steve explained as he rubbed Tony’s back carefully, Tony leant into the touch as he nodded again “We’re superheroes, we saved New York today and you played a huge part in it, you saved the whole of New York today, Tony”

“I did?” Tony asked with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open in shock as the others all chuckled at him happily “So obviously you’re Captain America, like the coolest person ever, and you were the big, green guy, what do I do? What does everyone else do?”

“I am spy, similar to your Aunt Peggy but ever since I was a little girl, Clint is also a spy but he is also an amazing archer” Natasha explained and Tony could tell she was watching her words, but he ignored that since the information she gave was awesome anyways “And Thor is Thor, the God of Thunder and Lighting”

“That’s so cool!” Tony was aware that he was bouncing slightly as the others were all smiling at him happily “And me?”

“Remember the suit?” Steve asked and Tony nodded rapidly “You built it, you fight in it, you’re called Iron Man”

“Wow” Tony whispered as his young mind desperately tried to learn all this new stuff about his life. He was so cool when he was older and he guesses that explains the light in his chest if he powers a big, metal suit.

Thor’s people never ended up knowing what happened to Tony, nor could any of Shield’s scientists or Bruce for that matter. It didn’t matter though, Tony was happy to be away from home and he had taken it in his stride that his parents were dead. He had been hit pretty strong by the news of Ana and Jarvis but he understood that he was living in the future and that they had just passed of old age.

The team all agreed to make Tony’s time with them the best that they could since the teenager had let it slip about Howard’s treatment of him and Maria’s neglect, all of the team making sure that Tony would feel safe and cared for while he was around.

And if Tony happened to never go back, well then they would figure that out too and keep making sure Tony could grow up safe and happy and surrounded people that had fallen in love with him, Tony had openly sobbed with happiness when Steve had clapped him on the back and called him son so it was clear that Tony was also pretty in love with his new family.

The young Stark was finally happy, he was surrounded by love, and no one had to know that he prayed to anyone listening that he would never go back to his time.

[forehead-enthusiast]

I Do

Pairing: Jaemin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Royalty!AU, Arranged Marriage AU, perhaps a small dash of what could be interpreted as implied smut?? but I don’t interpret it that way so its up to you

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: The prospect of marrying someone you’d never met devastated you. However, your new husband never ceases to surprise you. 

A/N: ahhh my first fic in a little while!! ik it’s quite long, but i hope you’ll give it a read! thank you!!

.

You waited in front of the church doors, a veil covering the devastation in your eyes. Your mother pressed a hand to your shoulder in some cheap imitation of comfort, as if she wasn’t the one who got you here. She gripped you too tightly, as if to imply escape was impossible. The white fabric of your dress creased under her fingers, and you subconsciously wondered if it would be wrinkled as you walked down the aisle. No more tears were left in your eyes; they’d fallen, one by one, all through the night, and had dried into a red stain that no cosmetic could cover.

The church doors opened. 

The organ blared, the choir sang. The guests stood up and turned, their feet shuffling against the tiled floor. It was a cacophony. Nightmarish. Your knees shook as you took step after step towards the future you would have never chosen. You felt like you were walking towards a guillotine, and almost wished you were.

You made it to the altar. If only lightning could smash through the stained glass and strike you before the vows, you’d be saved. You stared at the ground and prayed fruitlessly, not bothering to listen to the empty words the priest proclaimed.

They weren’t true anyway. There was no love to promise in the first place. You honestly weren’t even sure if you knew which prince you were marrying. Ever since you were born, names of rulers and their heirs had been thrust upon you, to befriend, to charm, to capture. They were all just blurred faces, overshadowed by the jewels on their clothing and the parents on their shoulders. Did it really matter who your parents had eventually chosen? It’s not as though they’d work to try and find someone you’d love, let alone like. You hoped it at least wasn’t some man old enough to be your grandfather, but reconsidered. Maybe they’d die quickly and leave you to be the happiest widow alive. That was the best you could hope for, you supposed.

“And do you, y/n, take Jaemin to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do.”

The words came out of your mouth flatly. They’d been practiced, ordered from you. You felt nothing offering them to the man before you- no affection, no intrigue, no guilt. 

You’d never meant anything less in your life.

“And do you, Jaemin, take y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

You barely took note of how young the voice sounded. In the back of your mind, you were disappointed that you couldn’t hope for him to die early.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Unknown hands reached out to lift the lace that covered your face, and you looked up to see your husband for the first time. He was young. He couldn’t be more than a year or two older than you, if that. He was pretty. He was smiling.

Then he wasn’t.

His face fell as he looked upon yours, and you wondered if you were truly so disappointing looking before you recognized the expression on his face. Sympathy. Guilt. He’d seen the redness of your eyes, the sadness etched into every feature of your face. He hesitated to kiss you, and for the first time today, you felt something. A sense of emotional closeness, you supposed. He was just the same as you. Not some old man looking for a younger toy, not some rich bastard looking for a new trophy. Just a person, too young to be treated like an adult, marrying someone they didn’t know. 

“...Just do it.”

He looked even more guilty at that. He leaned in, pausing several times, and you wondered if your audience of strangers were confused. Just before your lips, he hovered, and whispered something only you could hear.

“I’m sorry.”

And he closed that final inch between you. You were stiff, but his lips against yours were warm, and more tender than any other touch you’d felt before. You wondered what either of you had done to deserve this. 

You wrapped your arm around his and walked out of the church together, with your well rehearsed smiles plastered on your faces as you shook countless hands and thanked countless people you’d never met for coming to this oh-so-happy occasion. He opened the door of the coach for you. A perfect gentleman. He climbed in after you, and you rode off.

The happy newlyweds.

Neither of you spoke a word as the stagecoach traveled over every bump in the road, and you let your mind be occupied by the sound of hooves against cobblestone. Your mind drifted about, visiting every dream you’d had for your life when you were naive enough to believe it belonged to you. All the adventures you’d longed for, all the places you desperately desired to see, all the life there was to live outside the castle walls. You couldn’t even pretend they were a possibility for you now.

Jaemin stared at the floor of the carriage, his mind clouded with conflict. His eyes would flick up to catch a glimpse of your face as you stared resolutely out the window. 

He knew you more than you realized.

He’d been excited to hear who he was marrying. Unlike you, he’d recognized the name, and had lit up at the news. It wasn’t exactly what he’d envisioned, this coincidence planned by outside forces, but the prospect of getting to be with you had sounded wonderful to him. He hadn’t imagined you didn’t feel the same. He loathed himself for that. It’s not as though he could’ve done anything to change or halt the wedding, but he kicked himself for letting you see him so excited when you were so distraught. It was just so… insensitive of him. How could be hope to be a good husband when he hadn’t even stopped to imagine your feelings?

What bothered him the most, though, was that some part of him was still stubbornly happy to have you with him now. His forlorn bride. You looked beautiful despite how obviously sad you were. The lace of your dress draped against your skin like seafoam on waves. The lips (that he’d just kissed, he realized) were pink and reminiscent of budding roses. They matched the new flush on his cheeks. 

You arrived at the estate, and he helped you out of the coach naturally. You looked over the beautiful building, surrounded by gardens and white marble statues, and sighed. This was your home now until you inherited the kingdom. It wasn’t really so different from the castle you’d left behind, but you were so different from the girl that had left. 

Jaemin opened his mouth many times to speak as you were guided through the ornate hallways, but couldn’t find anything to say. He wanted to offer some sort of promise, some sort of comfort, but he looked at your back, ever so slightly hunched in defeat, and crumbled.

You ate dinner in silence.

Jaemin sat up in bed, waiting for his hair to fully dry. His eyes drifted around the large room, far too big for one person. Of course, it wasn’t. His heartbeat raced as he looked over at the other side of the bed, yet empty. It was an enormous bed; it probably could fit four of him, and was so velvety to the touch, it felt like a dream itself.

He flinched as the door creaked. You walked in, a nightgown on instead of your wedding dress, head still hanging.

“...Um! This is sort of weird, but, um, I’m Jaemin. It’s nice to meet you, or I dunno, marry you-”

“I’m y/n.”

“...Okay.”

He watched your figure, that looked so frail in the loose fabric of your pajamas, climb under the covers beside him. Well, beside him was a stretch. You curled up on the most distant edge, and he would’ve struggled to reach you if he tried. He sighed, and put out the light after gazing at your back facing him for a moment.

“Goodnight, y/n.”

He laid awake that night, listening to soft sobs that weren’t quite drowned out by a pillow, and cried a little himself. 

.

You were already gone by the time he woke up. Had you… had you run away? In the middle of the night? He cursed himself, and swung a robe around his shoulders as he hurried into the corridor. His breathing grew heavier as he threw himself into room after room, looking for some kind of clue as to where you’d gone, and then suddenly- there you were.

He finally paused, and took in the sight of you surrounded by flowers.

It was the first time since you’d been wed that he’d seen something besides distress on your face. You looked peaceful, wind gently flicking at your hair. He breathed in the scent of petals and morning dew, happy to share anything at all with you. His eyes widened when he realized you’d noticed him.

“You’re… still here.”

“...Yeah.”

He walked over to the bench you were sitting on, and crouched down, his face in his knees before he looked up to face you. His brows scrunched together and a relieved smile bloomed on his face.

“I’m so glad.” And then, “I’m sorry for that.”

“Sorry? For what?”

His smile relaxed you. His entire self relaxed you, once you let it. The realization that he was in the same predicament as you hadn’t made the transition much easier, but nonetheless, the sincerity in his voice, his eyes, the very tips of fingers was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. You’d never felt that anyone was truly genuine to you before. 

“For being happy you didn’t leave. I know the idea must’ve crossed your mind, and I wouldn’t have blamed you if you’d done it. And maybe you’d be happier right now if you had. So I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know how to respond to his honesty. You thought you could deal with anything. Facade, pretense, selfishness, violence, you knew you could handle anything that was thrown at you. But this was just too different. He was different. A sliver of a smile cracked onto your face. It was a feeling you’d almost forgotten. You’d grown so used to the performance of joy you nearly failed to recognize the real thing.

“You don’t need to apologize.”  

Jaemin’s heart throbbed when he saw that shadow of happiness on your face, and wondered what he could possibly do to brighten it even more. He stood up slowly, and asked cautiously if he could sit beside you and take in the morning. You nodded, and he sat down. His fingers fidgeted in his lap as he struggled to think of other things to say, but he just let the scenery speak in his stead. 

.

You struggled to open up to Jaemin, despite how sincere you knew he was. Luckily, he didn’t give up easily. Every time you fell silent, every time you let a conversation die, he just smiled, and thought of something new to ask you. 

No one had ever shown interest in you as a person before. He never asked about your family, your land, your title, but instead asked you little things. The meaningless things that somehow seemed more valuable to him.

“What’s your favorite fruit?”

You’d mumbled, “Grapes,” in reply, and woke up each morning with a bowl of them on your nightstand.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Yellow.” You’d found a bouquet of yellow carnations on your favorite bench. They didn’t look like they’d come from a florist. Rather, they looked clumsily but lovingly picked, and you put them in a vase with that small smile that Jaemin considered the highest reward.

“What’s your favorite dance?”

“That’s a secret.” Jaemin turned to you in surprise. It was the first time you’d shown a hint of humor in an answer, and he positively glowed. It was a bit bizarre to see him so happy at having an answer withheld from him. He grinned, and took one step closer to you than usual.

“You really won’t tell me?”

“Nope. And I’ll make sure you never guess.”

He was ecstatic.

You were… friends. The smile that once felt foreign on your face reappeared more and more frequently thanks to him, until it was as natural as when you were a child. The murky clouds in your heart didn’t dissolve, but unlike ever before, there was a glimpse of sunlight. You learned how to laugh again. Being around him was easy- he never made you feel like you had to be anyone but yourself. He’d race you through the gardens, and tease you when you threw your heels aside. He’d try and fail to make flower crowns out of the little white flowers nestled in the grass, and never got better at it. He’d pluck dandelions for you, and hand them to you with a grin.

He was the perfect distance from you. Closer than anyone, closer than your family or the servants you’d allowed yourself to grow attached to when you were still young and gullible, but far enough that you never felt any kind of pressure to behave a certain way. You took a dandelion from him, and watched the seeds float away in the breeze.

“Jaemin, I’m glad it was you I married.”

Jaemin’s heart paused for a second, then beat rapidly against his ribcage.

“Y-you are?” Maybe you felt the same way he did.

“Yeah. I was worried I’d been carted off to be some plaything for a nasty old tyrant of a man.”

That was not a very high bar to exceed. Jaemin felt his heartbeat slow down to its usual pace again. He swore to himself internally that he’d make you really, truly happy you married him if it killed him. He’d only fallen harder in the passing weeks. Your smile made butterflies migrate to his stomach no matter how often it occurred nowadays, and with every day that came and went, you were more beautiful to him than the girl he married. 

You liked his smile too. That was an understatement. His bright smile was infectious, and made his handsome features all the more boyish and sweet. Sometimes it seemed as though it made your heart beat faster, but you seriously doubted that thing inside you still had the capacity to do so. For years now you’d sworn it had died, and you were just a miraculous walking corpse.

Still, as the weeks continued to pass, it seemed like it was working better than it ever had. You noticed it pounding when Jaemin took your hand to lead you through the garden to a new secret spot he’d found, just by a small pond. You held your skirts above your knees and waded through it. You’d never done that before, and laughed out loud when Jaemin got scared by a frog. The pounding had to be from the excitement of finally daring to do the things you imagined, but had never been allowed to try back home.

Sometimes you really did feel happy here. It was hard not to, with Jaemin as your partner to explore and discover all the estate had to offer. But no matter how hard you tried to forget all that you’d wished for in the past, images of adventure always found their way back to you in your dreams. You tried to push them farther away. You’d gotten a best friend for a husband- that was more than you could hope for. 

.

Jaemin took you by the hand again today, promising a very big surprise. You hurried down the hallways, giggling like schoolchildren, until you reached an imposing wooden door. The estate, big as it was, always seemed to have new rooms to find.

“Close your eyes, y/n. Are you peeking?” He waved a hand in front of your face before pushing open the doors with a creak and guiding you inside.

It was… an empty room. A beautiful one, but empty nonetheless. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and the floor was mirror smooth, your skirt just reflected upon it.

“Jaemin, what is this?”

“It’s a ballroom. For dancing.”

You playfully groaned as you remembered the little secret you’d kept from him all that time ago.

“So that’s your plan.”

“Hey, it’s the best I got.” He held out his hands, and waited stubbornly until you took them. He pulled you gently towards him.

“So, y/n, what’s your favorite type of dance?”

“Not. Telling. Besides, we don’t even have any musicians, how are we supposed to dance at all?”

“Who needs ‘em?” He began to hum, a little out of tune, but the sound still rang out in the empty, echoey room, and you laughed at the orchestra of his voice. He spun you around, and you shrieked with laughter. Eventually, you both took off your shoes in favor of sliding around the glossy floor in your stockings. You had spent a lot of alone time with Jaemin, but even then, there was always some guard or servant walking by or watching from a ways away. Here, you were really alone. The only other people there were your images on the floor, looking just as euphoric as you both felt.

He twirled you into him, and you landed softly against his chest. You’d never really taken notice of it before, but he was strong. Broad. Your heartbeat sped up. You tried to convince yourself it was from the dancing. He smiled softly, and tucked some of your flyaway hairs behind your ear.

“Come on, just tell me. I even found a ballroom for us to do whatever it is you like.”

You sighed, and buried your head in his chest. He completely froze, redness managing to reach his ears in record time. He’d gotten so close with you, he sometimes forgot how madly in love he was with you. This was an intense way to be reminded. 

“Jaemiiiin.” It was the first time he’d heard you whine like that, and he pressed his hands to his face, trying to stop himself from screaming with affection.

“Jaemin.” You propped your face up, your chin on his torso now. “Jaemin, I can’t dance at all. I don’t have a favorite type. I don’t have any type I can even do.”

He burst out laughing, and you threatened to storm off.

“No! No, I’m sorry, please come back.” His apology was somewhat dampened by his roars of laughter, but you reluctantly stayed. He was sitting on the floor now, wiping tears from his eyes as he gasped.

“You really are so cute.”

You blushed. You didn’t even know you could. Jaemin blushed too when he saw you flush, which just made you flush more, and in response, he did, and so on and so forth. The whole room seemed to heat up just because of your competing fiery faces. Jaemin jumped up and pushed his hair back in an effort to compose himself.

He held out his hands again.

“Come on. Come on, don’t be shy.”

You took them begrudgingly.

“Alright, step backwards with your left foot.” Your eyes widened, but you obeyed. “Okay, now your right. Uh-huh, just like that.” He taught you carefully, leading you around the dancefloor with that kind of gentlemanly grace that came naturally to him. He yelped melodramatically when you stepped on his toes, and chuckled when you smacked his arm in indignation. He hummed again, just next to your ear, and you felt like you were floating, despite your continued clumsiness. 

His impromptu song and lesson came to an end. You looked up, still entranced, and saw Jaemin with a smile gentler than all his afternoon sunshine ones before it. It was soft like the evening sun, just before it melts completely into the horizon.

You found it hard to let go of his hands.

.

Jaemin glanced over at you as you climbed into bed, the nightgown you were wearing tonight barely different from the one you wore your wedding night. It still managed to make him nervous though, he’d never gotten used to it. You laid down on your faraway section of mattress, and as Jaemin thought about your head buried in his chest, he felt bolder than he ever had before.

“Y-you can come closer. If you want.”

You looked up in surprise, then at the space next to him, then at his face. You opened your mouth, then thought better and snapped it shut. Your hands gripped your bedsheets.

“Actually, um�� I think I’ll stay over here.”

Jaemin was horrified at himself. He’d done it now, he'd ruined everything. He’d pushed too much, made his feelings too obvious, made you uncomfortable. God, how could he have been so stupid? He’d made it his goal to make you happy, not satisfy his own stupid wants. If you weren’t sharing a bed, he would’ve shoved a pillow onto his face and screamed.

He laid awake that night, tossing and turning, still furious at himself.

“Jaemin?”

His eyes darted over to you in the darkness, but he held his tongue, afraid you would tell him you were leaving to sleep somewhere else. 

“Are you asleep?”

He thought about answering, “Yes!” and smiled to himself. As he was imagining that juvenile fantasy, the blankets behind his back shifted. He froze completely, unsure if he was imagining the rustling, the feeling of the mattress bending with another person’s weight. Was he imagining this warmth too? He had to be. You had turned him down just hours before. But for some inexplicable reason, you were now hovering just behind his back. He forced himself not to twitch as your fingertips grazed his back.

Why? Why were you doing this? Why didn’t you do it earlier? A thousand and one questions ran through Jaemin’s mind, but he suppressed them all, refusing to interrupt this moment. He could just feel you grab a tiny bit of his shirt’s fabric between your fingers, and he wondered if this was all a dream. If it wasn’t, there was a real chance his heart would burst right out of his chest onto the covers.

He didn’t get a single second of sleep that night, but got hours of a dream come true.

Just like always, you were gone in the morning, off to a garden or breakfast or something else. For the first time ever, he’d been awake as you clambered out of bed. He'd kept his eyes resolutely shut, not blowing his cover now, and panicked that you’d notice the flush on his face when he heard the sound of clothes being changed. That was an image he didn’t need floating around his mind all day, teasing him. He smacked his hand against his head over and over, trying to rid himself of it.

Every night since then, you’d been doing the same thing. Calling out to him softly, asking if he was awake, and then moving towards him to sleep peacefully. Your slow breathing warmed the fabric against his back, and he wondered if this was a reward or torture.

“Jaemin, you look awful. Did you sleep okay?”

“Hm? Oh. I’m fine. I just… had weird dreams.”

The dark circles that worsened by the day didn’t manage to make him less beautiful, but they were still concerning. Even he had to admit they were bad. As much as he painfully loved having you snuggling up to him every night, he was beginning to doze off during all your daytime endeavors.

So this time, when you cuddled up to him, he turned around to face you.

He wasn’t exactly ready to have your face that close to his, and reflexively wrenched his head back, as did you.

“J-Jaemin?! You’re awake?!”

You pulled at blankets to try and hide yourself, and he thought about how adorable you looked all bundled up. Agh, he couldn’t let himself get distracted. But wow, your cheeks were so red. You looked like a strawberry, ripened with summer heat. Focus, Jaemin, focus.

“Why are you doing this? I thought you didn’t want to.”

You pulled the blankets over your head, and he pulled them back down.

“I… I did want to. But. It’s. It’s embarrassing somehow! But I still want to. But I, I didn’t want you to know that I was embarrassed because then I’d be more embarrassed, and I don’t even know why but ever since we danced that first time everything you do embarrasses me and-”

Jaemin watched you ramble, and condemned himself for hoping. Hoping that this feeling of embarrassment you spoke of meant what he thought it might.

“Y/n, I am so unbelievably in love with you.”

Your tumbling words ceased immediately.

“What?”

“I love you so much. I’ve loved you for years, long before we got married. I’ve loved you since I first saw you, when you saved that frog at the garden party.”

“W-what?”

“I know you don’t remember it, I mean, we must’ve been about ten. But you saved a frog that was being bullied by some of the servants, and held it in your hands fearlessly as you put it back in the pond and I’ve been in love with you ever since that day. And I know it’s weird that that sparked my feelings for you, but it did. This isn’t the way I had wanted it to happen, but I always knew I wanted to marry you. I love you.”

“Jaemin! Stop… saying… that you l-lo… me.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

“...There’s no need to apologize.”

He looked up at you, practically glowing with your pink cheeks. He reached out, and paused when you flinched.

“I’m sorry, did I scare you?”

“No, it’s just…”

“Embarrassing?”

You scrunched your eyes shut and nodded. He didn’t understand how you could somehow get him to adore you more each and every moment, but you did.

“Y/n, do you want to marry me?”

Your eyes flicked open.

“We’re already married?”

“But I want to know if you want to.”

“I… do.”

“Do you,” he gulped, nervous despite it all, “Do you love me?”

You avoided looking at him for a few agonizing moments before meeting his eyes and answering.

“I do.”

You'd never meant anything more in your life.

“Can I kiss you, y/n? For real?”

“...Yes.”

He tried to hold himself back, but practically tackled you in his eagerness. You yelped as you fell backwards, and your teeth clacked together. You winced in unison. He looked down at you, laying between his arms, and couldn’t believe it was real. You giggled lowly at the flush on his cheeks until he pointed out you were even redder. 

He fell onto his elbows to be closer to your face. You both stared into each other’s eyes, unsure of when to close them. You squinted yours shut, and Jaemin’s heart leapt into his throat. He took a moment to admire this expression of yours, this “waiting for a kiss” face, and once it was burned into his memory, leaned down. He was almost too cautious, his kiss even more hesitant than the one that dubbed you man and wife, but once he saw you were still there waiting for another, surrendered.

He kissed you with all the passion he’d been suppressing, his lips locking with yours over and over, without a moment to breathe. He tasted like mint. Unaware of your own actions, you reached up to wrap your arms around his torso and hold him more closely to you. A thrill ran up his spine. If he was being honest, he really didn’t know what he was doing. This was only his second kiss, if you could even consider your wedding day one a proper first. He let instinct take over, biting your bottom lip gently. You flinched at the unfamiliar sensation, and he almost pulled away, but you just embraced him tighter. He took a moment to appreciate your breathlessness before leaning back down to press a kiss to the underside of your jaw. He smiled against your skin when he felt you tremble with surprise, and left a trail of light kisses all down your neck to your collarbone. You squirmed beneath him as he bit your neck lightly, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, and he popped up to face you again, looking completely entranced.

“Jaemin, you-”

“Sorry, your lips.”

“What, no, I-”

He cut off your sentence with the return of his lips on yours, rougher than before. He couldn’t lie, he’d imagined kissing you before, but his fantasies couldn’t live up to this feeling in the least. You were softer than he’d imagined. Smaller in his arms. Sweeter. Your voice took the form of high hums and gasps against his lips, and he found that all the more enticing. He ran his fingers through your hair, and felt almost afraid of himself and how much he wanted you.

“I’m sorry, y/n, I don’t know if I can stop.”

“I- well- it’s fine just,” You turned away, then let your glossy eyes alone flick back to him, flustered. “Just be more gentle.” He shivered with excitement at those words.

“...No promises.”

“Jaemin!”

.

He woke up before you this time. His arm felt heavy, and he looked over to see you snuggled into his shoulder, no attempt to be subtle this time. Your angelic appearance snapped him out of any and all drowsiness. Your hair was a mess. He apologized in his mind for that. Your lips were pinker than usual, and looked almost chapped from overuse. He apologized profusely in his mind for that. He placed his free palm on his face, still in disbelief.

He’d kissed you. He’d really kissed you. He’d kissed you a lot. And you’d kissed him back. He flushed just remembering. He could remember the way your lips felt vividly. Not vividly enough. The moment you woke up, he kissed you good morning. You jumped back instinctively, and he just laughed.

“I guess we both have to get more used to it.”

He leaned forward to place a peck on your nose.

“Doesn’t sound so bad.”

You nodded in affirmation, too bashful to verbally agree. What a night it had been for you. Just months ago, you would’ve never believed you could love someone. Could be in love with someone. Could even admit it. You made a feeble attempt to smooth out your hair, as though that would somehow make you composed enough to function like a real human today.

“I l-love you. Jaemin.”

He looked up in surprise, his jaw slack and eyes wide.

“I just… realized I didn’t say it while we were- you know.”

“You really want me to pounce on you again this early in the morning? Because I will.”

You smacked him with a pillow. “If you’re gonna be like this, I’m never saying it again!”

“Aww, no, I’m sorry.”

He pulled you back into a hug, sighing with contentedness. You relaxed into him.

“Y’know, I always wanted to go on adventures, but I think you might be scarier than anything else the world has to offer.”

“You want to go on adventures?”

“No, I meant like-”

“No, I know what you meant, but do you want to go on adventures?”

“I mean, yeah, but I want to stay with you even more.”

“Why do you have to choose?” He sat up, his eyes alight with invigoration. “Let’s just go! Together! We can call it a belated honeymoon. And a really extended one too. Where do you want to go? I don’t mind anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

It was your turn to tackle him, planting a too enthusiastic kiss on his mouth.

“You, Jaemin, are the best husband ever.”

He looked enormously pleased, if a little confused.

“Th-thanks!”

You spent the rest of the day rolling around on the bed, making plans, and smothering each other in kisses.

The happy newlyweds.

[itzagothamcitysiren]

There’s Only Us Left Now

An update two days in a row? Wow, there really is something wrong with me lol. 

I’m feeling slightly better after taking the morning to just take care of myself. I got the haircut that I’ve needed since like before covid started. I got my oil change that needed to be change since June. And I went to Ulta and got a new eye shadow pallete and Old Navy for some flannels.  Now I’m going to eat my Taco Bell and get back into writing this! 

Thanks again to those who are still reading this <3 This chapters a little shorter than what I usually write but I wanted to show stuff from Tim’s POV. 

I Had a Dream I Was a Vigilante’s Side Kick pt. 4

           Tim Drake was a considerably patient kid as having patience was a requirement in his family. Having strong shoulders was another one as the amount of bullshit his father piled onto them would overwhelm the average fifteen year old. Tim wasn’t the strongest but up until now he was pretty damned sure that he was strong enough to deal with it.

           He ran his hands through his hair again. His back still leaned against his bedroom door that separated him from the living room. The conversation he could hear from the opposing side was going just as badly as the one he had yesterday with Halley Wilson had gone. He closed his eyes when he heard his father’s grunt and the sound of him being hit in the gut.

           Okay, maybe it was going worse.

           Tim wanted to step out and help his father but he wasn’t an idiot. Oswald Cobblepot’s cronies, as thick headed as they were, could easily make Tim regret any stand of rebellion. That was why he banked all his cards into the famed batfamily. They could give him the skills he needed to protect his family from the consequences of his father’s life choices. He would’ve been able to stop this.

           He knew he could’ve simply asked for help but what would they really have done? Batman wasn’t the Batman he once was. Like he had told Halley, he was darker, more brutal as he fought. Tim grew up idolizing the hero and like any kid in Gotham wanted to be the next Robin. But unlike all those other kids Tim was fit for the job.

           Hell he had figured out that Bruce Wayne was Batman. He found out all of their identities. Tim knew how to track them down and where to find them. He’d tailed Halley for weeks without her noticing him. She was supposed to be his ticket in. He failed of course. He knew his chances of actually getting her on his side were slim but he thought he’d get further than he had.  At the time, he was unaware the details but he knew there had to be some big reason for her to quit being Nightshade. He was naïve to think he could get her back into the game with him tagging along.

           “He died because of the Joker.” Halley’s words echoed in his head as he heard his father let out another grunt. Tim knew that there was a risk being Batman’s sidekick and he had a hunch that the whole skiing accident story about Jason Todd was in fact just a story and held no real truth.

           Tim pulled away from the door quiet as to not alert the goons invading his house that he was home. His dad was a screw up that much Tim knew but like Tim he wasn’t an idiot. He made idiotic decisions like taking out a loan with the Penguin that he knew he wouldn’t be able to pay back but he wasn’t stupid. He was just desperate; he was desperate to save his failing business and make a better life for his family. Tim could relate trying to rake through his mind for a solution for his failed attempt yesterday.

           He made his way to his balcony. They only lived on the third floor and the climb down by the fire escape wasn’t that hard. He could go try again. Maybe explain his situation better. Maybe Halley would put the cape and mask back on just to help him take down Penguin? No, she wouldn’t. But if he had to deduce anything he’d be pretty confident in saying that she told the other me members of the batfamily about him knowing their secret. He could use that to go straight to Batman. The taxi ride out to Wayne Manor wasn’t the worst. It was only a little more expansive than boy could afford right now but it could possibly be worth it.

           He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he looked out at the streets below him. Would it be worth it though? His father got them in too deep with one of the biggest crime bosses of Gotham. Batman would just slap him around a bit and then send him to Arkham in which Cobblepot would just live out his sentence in luxury until he was let out. His family would still be indebted with him and in trouble when he got out. And he would get out; he always got out.

           Tim’s eyes lit with a spark an idea flashing across his mind.  He was either a genius or he was either insane. Beyond insane, he decided to himself before softly rushing back into his room, but extremely genius.

           He stood still hearing the intruders bidding farewell too his father with a demand for him to make sure he can pay up at their next visit. Tim looked down knowing his dad was most likely making his way to the bathroom to lick his wounds before his mother caught home from work. Unlike his mother, Tim wasn’t kept in the dark from his father’s misfortune, having caught his father during another one of his meetings some time ago.

           Once Tim heard the front door be locked and the bathroom door close, he picked up his step and made his way to his desk. He opened up his laptop, logging in and setting himself off to work. His fingers typed furiously, his eyes flickered across the screen and his mind was pushed the farthest it had ever been pushed. Tim was great with computers. So great that he was able to not only use it to track down Halley but when he was first learning how to hack he had been able to award himself a full scholarship to Gotham Academy.

           Tim was smart enough to get in but his guidance counselor never got around to submitting his application in time. You gotta love Gotham’s amazing public school system, Tim huffed, remembering how little the counselor cared about her delay. And it wasn’t like Tim’s parents could really afford to send him themselves right now. Maybe a couple of years ago when his father had just begun stepping into the higher class of Gotham. But that was before he made a couple of bad deals that lead them to where they were now.

           The fifteen year old cracked his knuckles the time passing by quickly as he continued to work. The sun setting and then rising didn’t faze him. He was done by the time he was supposed to be waking up and getting ready for school. He smirked as he closed the laptop knowing his work was done. He had managed to do exactly what Batman failed to do. He finally found a way to take Oswald Cobblepot down for good.

           The smug smile he wore from the moment he closed his laptop to the moment he walked to school and to the moment he sat in the library alone during lunch never faded. He was already the weird, poor, outcasted kid in the school but he didn’t care if the twisted smile he had on helped his case or not. He was happy; he stuck it right where it hurt. Oswald deserved everything Tim did last night.

           He jingled his house keys, a certain pep in his step as he walked down the hallway to his apartment. His book bag slung over his shoulder, the day going by as quick as a breeze. He wanted to tell his dad what he did but he knew that it was a secret he was meant to keep. He hummed to himself as he opened the door to the apartment.

           For the first time since it appeared, the self-righteous look on his face was torn right off.      His eyes scanned around the kitchen, the open dining area shown off as well. His eyes nearly blew out of his skull as he saw the disarray the rooms were in. The side table where they all left their keys and mail was knocked over as if someone was pushed into it in some sort of scuffle. The dining room table was top side as well one of the chair broken and tossed off to the side.

           He felt his heart stop quietly closing the door behind him and ignoring every instinct to run away. He could hear soft sobs. They sounded like his mother. Oh no, he thought dreadfully. There was no way Cobblepot knew it was him. There was no way. Tim used every form of protection he had. He used firewall after firewall, decoy vpn after decoy vpn. Tim was so sure he was careful. And if he knew how did he find out so quickly?

           “Mom?” he called out, his voice shaking. On his way to the living room, where the sound of her cries were coming from, he stopped in the kitchen and grabbed the first thing he could find. It was a frying pan but it would do. “Mom.” He called out again stepping over one of the chairs on the floor.

           “Mom!” He called out when he got sight of her. She sat on the couch, her head in her hands and shoulders shaking. The small living room was just as a mess as the first half of the house. Tim crouched down in front of her, resting a hand on her shoulders. “Are you okay? What happened?”

           His mother raised her head, staring at her son with her tear reddened eyes. She choked out a sob before launching herself at him and pulling him into a tight embrace. Her words were hard to understand as she began to talk, but Tim knew what happened.

           “They took your father! They wouldn’t tell me why! I don’t even know who they are. They just came in and did this,” She cried, releasing her son and motioned to the apartment. “They said if I called the cops they’d kill him. I don’t know what to do.”

           Tim bit his lip knowing exactly what happened and who they were. He stood up heading out of the living room and to his room. His mother followed him still obviously shaken and didn’t know what her son was up too or why he looked so unsurprised. Tim took a quick peek at his desk. His fear was confirmed when he saw that it was missing. He cursed to himself. His mother always said Tim and his father were two peas in a pod but he never believed it until now.

           “Mom,” he said placing both hands on her shoulder.  “You need to get out of the city. Go to Gram’s house. I know who can help us but it’s not safe for you.”

           “Excuse you?” the woman exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about? No, what I’m going to do is go to the police. It’s what I should’ve done.” She sniffled, wiping her face and moving to head to the phone in the kitchen.

           Tim beat her too it, snatching it out of her hands and smashing it onto the floor and stomping on it. He rubbed his foot in it and looked up at her apologetically.

           “Timothy!” She cried out.

           “I’m sorry but don’t call them. They’re serious. They’ll kill Dad.” Tim explained as he began to back away. “Go to Gram’s.” He repeated before making a dash to the front door and bolting out of the apartment before his mother could stop him.

           He ignored her screaming after him and raced out and onto the streets of Gotham. He pushed past people, shouting out apologies. His breath was heavy as he ran making his way in desperation to Gotham University.

[stilessdylanobae-ddixonlove]

Surviving The Walking Dead - The Darkest Parts (Chapter 19)

Author: @stilessdylanobae-ddixonlove

Characters: Daryl Dixon, Carol Peletier, Evan, Will Barbor, Lydia, Aaron, Yumiko, Magna, Beta, Alpha, Negan, Maggie Rhee and Reader.

Plus Merle Dixon in some more visions.

Summary: What happened with Y/n and Magna is revealed, Daryl continues with his desperate attempts to find you. 

Note: Yes, some of this chapter is taken from The Walking Dead’s Season 10 Episodes 9 and 10. Some of the ideas and some of the dialogue are very similar and I do NOT take credit for those. As always. However, I’ve still changed quite a bit and added my own twist to things. I love the idea that Daryl helped keep you safe by holding Alpha off without even knowing it.

Warning: Cursing, graphic violence, death, blood and gore, painful triggers/loss, hallucinations, phases of denial.

Chapter Nineteen - Chapter Twenty

It was hot. Boiling hot. Daryl’s sweaty palm slipped down the small mountain of rocks as he blindly continued to dig. He removed every rock he could, searching for even the smallest crack. That would be a good start; even seeing just a hint of an opening would give him a little comfort. His mind was racing but he never slowed down. He wanted to break through so badly. He wanted to call out your name and maybe be able to hear your voice from below. But what if he heard nothing-what if you didn’t respond. His heart was pounding and his chest ached. Aaron approached with caution, unable to watch him struggle any longer.

“Daryl?” He urged. “Daryl?” He voiced a little louder. “It’ll take us a week to clear this.”

“Then help me!” Daryl finally stopped and looked at the mortified faces behind him. He began to softly sob, thinking about all he most likely lost. But then something within him wouldn’t let that fully sink in. He found a glimmer of hope and would hold onto that until he succeeded in getting you and his unborn child back. He climbed down from the debris, Aaron lending a hand until he reached the bottom safely and came face to face with Carol again.

“You were right. I’m so sorry.” She cried. “You cared about her, loved her and now she’s gone because of me.” Carol remained hunched over, holding her stomach in agony. She needed him to tell her how mad he really was. But he didn’t give her the satisfaction. He remained silent and walked away, leaving them both beyond devastated.

“Where are you going?” Evan asked as a tear escaped his dirt covered cheek.

“To find another way in.” Daryl's voice was firm and it cracked with grief. And then he left. Lydia approached Carol and she glared hard, the tears pouring from her face while Will remained on his knees, unable to move. Unable to speak. Unable to even cry.

________________________________

It’d been days. 

Two days since Daryl took off from the rubble you still laid beneath. No one knew if you and Magna were dead or alive and they still could not reach you. Daryl woke up in a tent he’d made from an old tarp. He built it right in the middle of Whisperer territory, hoping to come across them and do whatever he needed to get them to mention another way inside the mine. 

It was morning. The birds chirped and the sun was shining bright and high in the sky. It peaked through the holes in the tarp, blinding Daryl’s left eye as he sat up. He squinted and ran his hand through his messy brown hair, lowering his head as he thought about having to bare another hopeless day. He approached the creek and splashed some of the ice cold water onto his face to cool him down and wake him up. He thought about you. He thought about the last conversation the two of you had-the regret was crippling to him. He grabbed a large rock from his feet, where the river barely passed over it. He tossed it as far as he could out into the water making a very loud splash while his breathing grew heavier. He grunted, taking uneven breaths and forcing back tears. He’d been out here for days and nights without any success. He never spotted a single Skin, despite being completely at risk of being caught by one. He snatched his crossbow from the ground beside the tent and decided he couldn’t sit here in this spot any longer. 

So he marched through the forest, kicking mud up from behind his boots as he walked. He was almost back to the main road when he finally heard voices. He crouched down in the bushes and remained behind one large tree, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever stood before him. He could see her dark black hair as she stood in the road talking to someone. It was Yumiko, Magna’s girlfriend. He stood from the bushes and saw Aaron standing in front of her, who scratched his forehead; he slouched and his posture was rigid. 

Daryl huffed and made his way through the bushes, making his presence known. “Hey!” He spoke, the first time in days. The two slightly jumped in surprise, clearly being interrupted from an argument. “What are you doing?” Daryl questioned. 

“You aren’t the only one with a missing girlfriend.” Yumiko explained with a shrug. Daryl turned to Aaron, knowing he was still angry with you the last time they saw eachother.

“And you felt guilty?” 

Aaron sighed heavily. “I’m just trying to help.” 

“Yeah well, it’s don’t matter.” Daryl threw his right arm out in frustration. “I’ve been here for days, ain’t no Whisperers coming through here.” 

“We know.” Yumiko rubbed her arm, nervously. 

“Come back to Hilltop with us, it’s what I was just trying to tell Miko.” Aaron stated. 

“I ain’t gonna stop looking.” Daryl stated harshly. 

“I know. I’m not asking you to.” Aaron said. “Just come eat something decent, take a shower. Maybe we can talk to Maggie-” 

“Maggie ain’t gonna help us, you know that.” Daryl glared.

“I was just going to say that maybe Maggie will let you stay in the house for a few, I imagine you don’t wanna go back to Alexandria right now.” Aaron replied.

“Yeah well, Hilltop’s no better.” Daryl quickly replied, thinking about Maggie’s disapproval of you.

“Shit.” Yumiko shook her head. “Let’s just go.” Aaron nodded, finally getting her to come to his side. “You coming?” She asked Daryl, who instantly stood back.

“Nah, not yet.” He refused. He eyed Aaron hard before disappearing back into the woods alone. ________________

Daryl walked the opposite side of the river, inviting any Whisperer near by to come and take him on. He all but shouted for them as he angrily stormed through the fallen sticks and leaves. He spotted a few walkers slowly approaching from across the way, where he had been earlier. One sideswiped his tent and he felt that glimmer of hope again, figuring that killing walkers on Whisperer territory would surely earn him their attention. He raised his bow, aimed and shot the closest one directly through it’s rotting face. Then the next one. But just as he was about to let his third arrow fly, he heard a voice in his head that stopped him and instantly gave him goosebumps. You’re being reckless, Little Brother. It said. Daryl lowered his weapon and shook his head. He brought his crossbow back up to his cheek and prepared to continue by killing the next couple. All this for one woman? Let it go before you do something stupid. He heard Merle’s voice again. “Shut up!” Daryl yelled, fuming with uncertainty. He was so focused on the voice of his dead brother that he didn’t notice what approached him from behind. Hey, dummy! Turn around! Merle’s voice hollered just as Daryl finally turned, some part of him clearly hearing the trouble. It was just one walker, one that had been dead for so long he couldn’t even tell what it used to be. Man or woman, old or young-he didn’t know. It had gotten too close and as Daryl went to shove it away, he stepped back and tripped over a large rock. He fell into the cold water, hitting his head hard against more rocks below, the walker still on top of him and forcefully trying to bite. Daryl pulled out his hunters knife, stabbed the corpse in the back of the head and crawled halfway out of the river before he blacked out completely. 

Blood ran with the rivers current. The walkers along with a little of his. 

He could see a bright light shining behind his eyelids and the forest around him was now silent, his hearing temporarily impaired. A shadow suddenly stepped in front of him, blocking the light and he couldn’t help but finally blink his eyes open. He saw Merle standing over him with an irritating smirk on his face.    Say she is still alive, you know she’s pissed as shit. You knocked her up and then told her you didn’t want the kid. Merle laughed. Who does that? Daryl closed his eyes again, knowing somewhere deep inside that he was hallucinating and wanted it to stop. “I told you to shut up.” Daryl stated, much quieter this time. She won’t want you anymore. Merle insisted. But it don’t matter, you know she’s gotta be dead and now you’re alone again. “I’m gonna get her out.” Daryl mumbled to himself. I told you before, ain’t nobody ever gonna care about you except me, Little Brother. Now, get your ass up! Daryl slowly opened his eyes again to see no one this time. He was in fact, all alone.

__________________

~Two days ago~

In the dark, dust covered caves you sat sulking amongst the rubble. Magna rested across from you, where she remained unconscious. Your left arm was stuck under a large boulder, mostly caught by the sleeve of your hoodie. You coughed repeatedly, worried that Magna was dead and you would slowly die of starvation. You kicked Magna’s leg that you stretched to reach and coughed some more. She very slowly came to, sitting up and holding her pounding head. 

“What happened?” She asked, barely able to make out your face. 

“You hit your head. You alright?” 

“I think so. You?” She asked, coughing. You looked down at your arm and wondered if there was anything left of it. “Shit.” 

“There’s a small opening there, I think it missed but my sleeve is caught and I can’t reach to cut it. 

“You sure?”

“Either that or my arm is too damaged to feel it anymore.” You eyed her. Magna grimaced over the thought. 

“Do you want me to look? Can you move it?” 

You tried to wiggle your fingers, tried to concentrate on their existence. Finally, you did it. “Yeah, yeah I can move it.” You said. 

“Thank God.” Magna noted as she scooted in amongst the rocks and pulled out her knife. She cut away at your hoodie and pulled at your arm. 

“Ow, ow!” You screamed and hollered some more, pushing against the ground with your right hand. And to your surprise, you got free. Your forearm was already turning different shades of blue and purple but it was in one piece. 

“You’re lucky.” Magna coughed. She looked around at your surroundings, wondering how you survived. You’d brought her to a spot where the wooden frame of the mine was sturdy and sat directly below it. “And a genius.” She complimented. 

“Don’t thank me yet. We’re still trapped down here.” You looked beyond the debris, back towards where you’d all came from that would still allow passage. Magna helped you stand and pulled your water bottle from your bag, it was only half full. “Savor that, we might need it.” You insisted. She sighed heavily. 

___________________

~Present time~

After the sound of the creek came back and Daryl managed to get back onto his feet, he made his way to Hilltop’s doors and watched them slowly open. His crossbow rested against his back as he stumbled inside, the back of his head still slightly bleeding. He was overly dehydrated on top of suffering a head wound. Yumiko and Aaron ran to him, helping him inside the house as Evan and Will watched, this the first they’ve seen of him since the accident. 

They brought him inside and to the room you and him once shared. Aaron handed him a clean, damp cloth and he laid back on the bed with it resting between the pillow and his head. The coolness of it felt good, now fully letting in the pain. 

“Take off your shirt.” Yumiko stated as she entered the room next. Daryl raised an eyebrow. “Just do it so we can check you over for any other wounds.” She said, recognizing his uncomfortable body language. 

“What happened out there?” Aaron asked as Daryl sat up and took off his shirt and his vest, then laid back down. Yumiko checked him over, then left to report to Maggie. 

“I just fell.”

“So, you didn’t find them?” Aaron sighed. Daryl painfully eyed his friend, both physically and emotionally strained. And now he let out a heavy sigh.  

After a few more minutes of quiet, Aaron left as well to allow Daryl some much needed rest.

Daryl had fallen asleep for a couple hours, unable to hold it off any longer. And when he woke up, he was surprised to see Maggie sitting by the windowsill, waiting. He sat up and reached for his boots and missing top. Maggie fidgeted with her fingers and popped her knuckles, awkwardly. 

“I ain’t staying so quit worrying. I’m going back out there.” He mentioned, tightening the laces of his boots. 

“Fine.” Maggie replied, harshly. “But if you find her, don’t bring her back here.” She left the room fiercely, without even needing to say much of anything. Daryl was thankful for that though, he did not feel like talking about the rivalry between her, you and Negan. He did not feel like talking at all.

____________________

Meanwhile, you and Magna could hear the horde again as you came up to the arrow engraved in the wall, this time only pointing to a dead end. You stared at it, desperately wanting to believe that there was another way out of here. “I need to stop for a minute.” You said, sliding your back down the rock wall to sit. Magna huffed, then came and sat next to you. 

“Your arm hurt?” She asked you. 

You nodded. “Mhm. But not as bad as other things.” You admitted, lowering your head shamefully. 

“Yeah.” Magna understood. “How long do you think we could be stuck down here?” She wanted to change the subject to the more obvious problem. 

“Hopefully not longer than 9 months.” You quivered. 

“Jesus, don’t even say that.” You eyed her, unsure how to even respond. Suddenly a Skin appeared from the other direction, coming at you fast with a knife. Magna stood and grabbed her arm, then kicked her in the stomach. She fell and grunted. “How did you get in here?” Your new friend hollered. 

“Hey, you’re out numbered.” You added, standing up. 

“For now!” The Skin whimpered from the ground. 

“Just tell us how to get out.” Magna ordered. 

“The horde.” She smirked. “Let them end it for you.” You shook your head and removed your knife from your belt loop. “Whoa, no. Okay!” The woman put her hands up in surrender. “But my people are coming. You won’t make it far.” You and Magna made eye contact, knowing you had a long way to go before reaching any kind of safety.

____________________

Daryl walked the empty and lonely woods, heading back in the direction of the mine to take another look around, hoping this time he might be able to track where else the Whisperers leave and enter it. Maybe he’d been looking in the wrong area.

He was a little stunned when he spotted Alpha, a few of her people and several walkers finally walking along the river, which instantly changed his plans. Overcome with anger and not thinking about the consequences, he shot a Skin with his crossbow. The man fell to the ground while the surrounding real walkers began to feed on him, alerting Alpha of her enemies presence. With the dead distracted, Daryl jumped out in front of her with his knife raised and quickly took out two more of her people when they tried to protect her. This was a personal, close combat fight. She raised her double barrel shotgun and smirked devilishly, the same as when he last saw her but this time she wore her mask. He instantly kicked it out of her hands while one of her fellow minions grabbed Daryl’s knife and turned it around on him, slicing his forehead. Daryl then stabbed him in the stomach with his other knife-sending the man to the ground screaming. Now without a weapon, he reached for a large stick at his feet and ran back for Alpha, jamming it into her shoulder. She hollered as he pushed harder, knocking her flat on her back and grinding onto the stick further while keeping her away from her gun.

_______________

Back in the caves and within minutes of your previous conversation, several Whisperers joined you and your prisoner. You immediately recognized Beta as he pushed his way to the front. You took note of where they came from, obviously having missed an existing path. 

“Remove your weapons.” The giant man demanded. You tossed your knife to the ground and Magna’s soon followed. 

“What’s the matter? Thought we were all dead?” You glared up at him. He growled at you through his mask that only covered the upper half of his face. Suddenly, another familiar foe appeared from the small crowd and your chest instantly lightened. Negan, who stared at you with his eyes wide and his mouth gaping open.

“Kill them both.” Beta enforced as he picked up your weapons.

“Whoa whoa, Frowny McTwoKnives!” Negan’s sarcastic, defiant voice filled your ears as he stepped forward. “Now, Alpha purposely trapped them down here. You really think she’d want you ending the fun?” He vouched for you. Magna tilted her head and squinted her eyes in disbelief. Beta growled some more as he looked to his most recent and annoying travel partner. 

“Fine. They come with.” Beta countered. Negan looked to the ground in defeat, knowing your fate was sealed once Alpha got here. He would have to help you escape or find another way to keep you safe. 

As you and Magna joined the Whisperers on their way to the horde, Negan stealthily made his way over to walk next to you. Your enemies had tied your hands and pulled you both by a single rope, reminding you of the day you met Daryl. 

“Beta told me to take over.” Negan told the Whisperer who pulled you and Magna behind him. He rolled his eyes and handed the rope over, clearly not caring enough to verify those orders. “Sorry, Princess.” He said to you quietly. 

“Got any bright ideas?” You questionably mumbled. 

“Not yet.” He admitted. “But we don’t have long. Alpha is on her way to move the horde again.”

“Does she know the others got out?” You asked. 

“Yeah, thought you all did.” Negan shrugged. 

You sighed. “So, what’s taking her so long then?”

_____________________

Daryl twisted and pushed on the large stick he still had plunged into Alpha’s shoulder while the cut on his forehead bled into his eyes. “Where are they?” He demanded. Alpha quickly reached over to her fallen ally and removed the knife from his stomach, thrusting it deep into Daryl’s right leg. It got him off of her as he groaned in searing pain, allowing her to pick up her shotgun.

Daryl was forced to flee the scene.

Angered by the attack, Alpha put her plans on hold to follow Daryl, hoping to see the end of him. She tracked his messy footprints and blood drops to an abandoned gas station, where he limped and staggered his way into a small and cluttered corner to hide. Still gripping onto her gun, she made her way inside but her shoulder was slowing her down. She grunted and removed her mask, revealing her pale skin under all the dirt.

“I don’t know what that insane move was going to accomplish. I don’t know who ‘they’ are but I promise you when I find out I’ll kill them immediately.” She harassed, looking around the area and listening for any sign of movement. “Now you’ll bleed out here for nothing!” She hissed. Daryl gritted his teeth and looked to his leg, unsure of how to safely remove it. Alpha heard nothing but a few walkers, giving her an idea. She began knocking her shotgun against the metal garage door, calling them in. She grinned, decided to sit down and wait for them to finish him off for her. Her vision had grown fuzzy and she felt lightheaded from her blood loss. Daryl was beginning to feel the effects of his as well when he reached for items to protect himself. He struggled to stand, struggled to see, was winded and in agonizing pain. He reached his arm up onto the counter he leaned against, feeling around and found an old pipe wrench. He pulled it down and held onto it tightly while he waited for what came next.

Three of them had gotten there all too quickly. While Daryl tried to scoot away, Alpha smiled at the show. Daryl used the wrench on the first one, then knocked down a dusty fire extinguisher and hit the second one over the head. He grew exhausted and struggled to find another weapon source as the last one fell on top of him. So, without another option he pulled the knife from his leg and killed the final walker with it. Blood poured from his leg and he tried to hold it off. But he would surely bleed out, just as Alpha said he would. His vision was fading. As was hers across the room. She thought about Lydia, who randomly appeared before her. To their surprise, Lydia had found and followed Daryl after leaving Alexandria in hopes of helping find you. Instead, she found her mother. “Oh, Lydia. You’re here.” Alpha moaned, uncertain of whether her daughter was really here or not.

“I didn’t come for you.” Lydia replied, looking up to where Daryl laid, dying. He thought of you. His only regret being how he left things. The pain of it all being too much to hold onto any longer so he closed his eyes and he let go.

__________________________

@jodiereedus22 @dashesoflipstick @theunofficialduke @dixonluvv@nikki082489 @jordangdelacruz​ @lunatheumbreon @dbtvluv​I @letsstarsfalling​

Thanks for reading! 

I would also like to note that I have not read The Walking Dead Comics. I only know what I have seen or read online about them. I wrote Chapters 14 and 15  (the chapters where it’s revealed that Y/n let Negan out of his cell) of this series way before AMC aired Season 10 Episode 12 (The episode where it’s revealed that Carol let Negan out of his cell). Now, I heard rumors/theories that Negan joined the Whisperers as a way to help and based my version of the story around that. However, I wrote it before knowing that it was Carol who let him out. So....I kind of gave myself a pat on the back for that one, wishing though I’d have finished the last chapter (Chapter 18, where it’s revealed Y/n let Negan out to kill Alpha) as well and published it before that Episode aired. Oh well, though. It really makes no difference right? Just had to point that fact out because I’m an ass like that. Lol 

<<Chapter 18, >>Chapter 20

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

Lady of the Lake

Pairing: Ginger Ale/Elizabeth x Merlin/Hamish

Warnings: Smut

A/N: It doesn’t seem like anyone is particularly interested in this story, but that’s okay.  I’ll keep posting it because I’ve enjoyed writing it and I’m sure some Ginger x Merlin fan thirsting for new content will be excited.  

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 , @fioccodineveautunnale [please message me to be added or subtracted if you were just here for some Jack Daniels goodness!  I don’t want people being tagged in something they don’t want]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]

Part 3 

 King Robert the Bruce Tartan 

Later that week, Ginger sat down with the three chosen specialists to discuss their temporary transfer to England.  Lemonade, Cocoa, and Gunner were each adept at different areas and over the years have proven invaluable to her.  The work they had been doing for Kingsman was some of the best output the lab has had in years and she knew that once they were on site, the production would explode.  

Ginger smiled because even though Merlin had asked for the help, it was clear that Harry was behind the request.  But, these techs were good and it was likely that in three months when it was time for them to come home, Ginger was going to have a battle royale with Merlin to get her crew back.

For a while, the four specialists worked together to review what was needed and the timeline that Merlin had sent over earlier that day.  It wasn’t just creating new weapons; it was also about creating enough arsenal that Kingsman could handle the growth explosion they were about to experience over the next month.  Lemonade and Gunner began to bicker about what supplies they’d have to bring and what they could get in the UK, while Cocoa tried to play mediator between her two co-workers.   Ginger sat back and looked at them with a smile – her baby birds were about to leave the nest and do mother proud.  Before they got too heated, she stepped in.

“Guys, as entertaining as this is, remember, we have three weeks before you’re scheduled to leave.  Get your supply list ready, consult with Merlin on it, and then order what you need.” The other three nodded and Cocoa continued to hunch over the list, tweaking amounts and items.  While they worked, Ginger went back to her desk and pulled out her phone.

You’re getting three of my best crew.  

We’ll be there in three weeks to help.  Too late?

Not at all.  Gives me time to prep for additional hands.  

Wait. . .we?

I’m coming, too.

Really?

Really.

I gotta get my crew settled.

Just the crew?

😊

She got up from her desk and left the lab so no one could see her giggling at her phone like she was sixteen instead of the 40-some woman that she was. A small part of her brain knew it was ridiculous, but the giggles still came, and she stepped into the elevator, grateful it was empty for once.  Her phone pinged and she unlocked it.

You are cruel, m’eudail.

Me? Never.

Yes you.

I’m scheduled to be there for two weeks.  You don’t think I need something to do after they’re settled?

As she stepped off the elevator on the fifteenth floor, she was still smiling, knowing she had got to him.  She walked into her apartment when her phone pinged again.  When she saw the notice, she groaned.

I’ll clean the tartan.

“Oh, you bastard. . .” she whispered into the emptiness of her apartment.  Clean the tartan he says.  She knew good and well that the tartan was fine, he was just playing his trump card.  Well, she wasn’t going to let him goad her into replying and she knew he was sitting somewhere in London grinning gleefully waiting for her response.  Although as she stripped off her clothes to climb into the shower, it wasn’t Merlin who goaded her into the memory but her own brain.

---***---

As the two walked into Merlin’s home, she was struck at how cozy the cottage was.  Dark woods and hard stone were contrasted with soft fabrics and all of it had an air of home well worn and loved.  He watched her face as she took it the space while taking off her coat.  When she looked over at him and smiled, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Merlin, this is beautiful.  It sort of reminds me of the library at HQ.”  She handed her coat over to him but kept her bag with her.  

“Hamish.” She turned back to look at him.  “Please call me Hamish, not Merlin.  We’re off the clock, no need to be so formal.”

“Elizabeth.”  Came her reply.  When he turned his head, he could see her smiling at him.

That smile seemed to have broken whatever barrier that stood between them and the tension of desire that connected them seemed to grow harder.  He closed the closet door and guided her to the small guest room off the hallway, his hand never leaving the small of her back.

“Bathroom is the next door over and I’m across the hall if you need anything.”  She set her bag down and nodded appreciatively.  She pulled out her toiletry bag and went to freshen up in the bathroom.  It had been a long day and she just needed a little boost to get through the rest of the evening.  If she didn’t, she’d probably fall asleep at dinner.

When she walked out of her room, she looked up and something sparkly captured her eye.  From the doorway, she could see into Hamish’s bedroom and above his bed hung a large piece of tartan, the source of the sparkles.

“A memorial tartan for the Scottish king, Robert the Bruce.”  Hamish’s voice was low behind her and she could feel his body heat as he came up and stood next to her.  “The black celebrates the defeat of the English in the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314.  The red is for the blood of Scots spilt in battle for our independence.  And the grey for the Scottish weather.  This was made with silver metallic thread, which is what caught your eye.”

She turned to look at him and without thinking, she placed her hand on his forearm and smiled.  His heart stopped before beating rapidly in his chest.  He briefly wondered if she could hear it because it practically crowded out all other sound for him.

“It’s beautiful, Hamish.”  Whatever grasp he had on his control was lost when she whispered his name and he leaned down to kiss her.  She briefly stood still at the shock of it before leaning into the kiss.  He stepped closer to her and after breaking apart, their breaths seemed to mingle together.  They looked into each other’s eyes before Elizabeth leaned in and kissed him again.  She craved the sparks of pleasure his touch ignited in her and as he angled his head to deepen the kiss, she drew her arms around his neck to press her body flush against his.

He groaned into the kiss as her stomach pressed into his growing erection and in return, he ran his tongue against her lower lip.  They were as soft as he suspected and when she opened her mouth, he was lost in her almost immediately.  His hands settled on her hips as the kiss became more urgent.

Slowly, he walked her backwards into the room until Elizabeth felt the back of her legs hit his bed, his lips never leaving hers.  But she broke off the kiss in order to breathe and he took the chance to drag his lips down to her neck, starting at the hollow beneath her ear.  She moaned at the sensation and he felt bold enough to continue to kiss down her neck.

As he continued to explore the expanse of her skin above her collar with his lips, she toed off her shoes and placed one leg and then the other on the bed so that she was kneeling in front of him.  As he reached her collarbone, he began to unbutton her shirt, letting his lips lightly kiss the skin as he exposed it.  He began to crouch lower, kissing between her breasts and then along her belly. Soon he was on his knees looking up at her.

Merlin’s hazel eyes were darkened by his lust and she was certain her own brown eyes were black.  She could feel her nipples tightening under her bra, growing eager for his touch at every press of his lips.  As she looked down at him, she dragged her hand lightly over the top of his head. His eyes fluttered shut and she could hear his breath grow needier.  She sat back on her heels before moving her legs, so she was sitting on the bed and her legs framed his torso.

He removed his glasses and held his hand out for hers.  When he had them, he reached over and set them both on a chair near the door.  When he turned back, he placed his hand on her thighs, feeling them slightly tremble beneath his touch.  She brought her own hands to his jaw, letting her fingertips drag lightly along it as she bent her head to kiss him again.  As they continued to kiss, he began to unbutton his shirt.

Suddenly, he pulled back to look at her.

“I want you.  I want this.” His brogue was roughed by desire and Elizabeth felt herself grow wetter at the sound.  He wants her. It was like music to her ears as she pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it off to the side.

“And I want you.  Now touch me, please.”  Her voice was practically a whisper that played along his skin and he moaned at the confession.  He slammed his lips back into hers before dragging his hands up her thighs and to her waist.  He reached for her pants and unbuttoned them while she lifted her hips so he could drag them down her legs.

He pulled away to toss them in the growing pile of clothes next to them and he dropped his lips to the inside of her left knee.  Her legs seemed to open wider on their own accord as he alternated kissing up each leg.  Elizabeth leaned back onto her elbows and she did what she could to slow her breathing. She bent her head back and her eyes caught the metallic thread in the tartan. The sparkles she saw seemed to move in tandem with the sparks of passion that rippled through her body

When he reached her mound, they groaned at the same time and she gasped loudly when he dragged his tongue up the cloth covering her core.  She watched with heavy-lidded eyes as he pulled her underwear off her body, never breaking eye contact with her.  He grinned at her before dipping his head down between her thighs.  She widened her legs and she could feel his tongue drag up her slit.  She gasped as his tongue pressed down on her clit.  She closed her eyes at the sensations swirling around her lower belly.

“No m’eudial, look at me.”  Elizabeth opened her eyes at Hamish’s gruff words and before she could say anything, he tugged on her hips to bring her closer to the edge of the bed, giving him better access to what he wanted.  He lowered his head again, licking and sucking along her slit until her hips began to shake. He pushed her legs wider and slowly inserted a finger into her core.

“Oh god, Hamish!”

He smiled against her as he pumped his finger inside of her.   When he inserted a second finger, Elizabeth nearly came off the bed, her moan rang throughout the room.  He could feel her shaking harder, telling him she was close to climaxing.  As he continued to lick her and pump his fingers, he rested his forearm across her hips and as her orgasm got closer and closer, she reached out and grabbed his head, nails digging into the flesh of his scalp.

When it hit her, she screamed and her whole body began to shake from the force of it.  Her head pressed into his bed and her hazy vision turned the sharp sparkles she had seen before practically into stars pulsating in time with her pleasure.  For a brief second, her breath hitched when she felt she’d never come down from her high.  But she did and Hamish was there to catch her.

He pressed a feather light kiss to the top of her mound before standing up to his full height.  Her body still shivered with tremors from her orgasm and he carefully pulled her up until her head was laying on his pillows.  Her dark hair stood in contrast with the white sheets, almost framing her in a halo of hazy light.  He stood back long enough to take off his clothes and he could feel the hunger in her eyes as he got naked.

She sat up long enough to remove her own shirt and her bra, her nipples becoming harder as the cool air of the bedroom hit them.  She bit back a moan as she laid back down as crawled onto the bed.  He lightly pressed his lips against her hip, and then her stomach, and then her breasts, followed by her neck and then her lips.  The trail he created felt like fire and she was humming from the sensation.

He laid down next to her, drawing flush against her side and propped up on his forearm.  She smiled at him as he looked down at her and he smiled back before lowering his head to kiss her again.  Soon she was dragging her hand down his neck, feeling the hard planes of his muscles under her fingertips.  She could feel his stomach contract when she touched it, and she smiled as he continued to kiss her.  Her hand went lower and lightly brushed against the head of his cock.  He jerked backed and hissed at the sensation.  He didn’t get very far before her hand wrapped around his cock and began to slowly pump him.

“M’eudial, you feel so good.” He pressed his face against her cheek and willed himself not to come right then and there in her hand.  It had been a long time since he had been with someone and he didn’t want this dream to end too soon.  But her hand felt divine and he couldn’t stop his hips from slightly rocking in time with her movements.  His breath hitched as he leaned his forehead against hers.  Their eyes met and Hamish knew he had to have her now.

He grabbed her wrist lightly and removed her hand from his cock.  He looked her in the eye as he shifted so he was laying on top of her.  She widened her thighs and when he lowered himself onto her, Elizabeth was suddenly struck with the feeling that she was coming home.  He brushed his erection against her folds, and she gasped as the sensation.  He reached between them and lined himself up before pressing forward.  Elizabeth felt herself stretch to accommodate him and it was delicious.  He continued until he was fully sheathed in her.  They took a moment to adjust and she reveled in the feeling of fullness.

When her hips started to move on their own, seeking out the friction she needed, he pulled back and drove into her again.  She brought her legs up to wrap around his hips and her arms did the same around his neck.  Hamish was so overcome with the sensations he was feeling that he buried his face into her neck.  As her orgasm began to build, she strained her body to capture the explosion she so desperately needed in that moment.

Her head was thrown back in pleasure and the sparkles seemed to dance feverishly and when Hamish moved his hand between them to touch her clit, she cried out.  The sparks of pleasure were overwhelming, and it felt like her skin was sparkling every time his touched her.

“I’m going to come m’eudail, come with me.”  He ground out the words against her throat and he felt her nod. His stokes came harder and before she knew it, her climax hit her.  Hamish lifted his head to look at her and he could have sworn he saw a Scottish galaxy reflected in her eyes.  He pumped into her one, two, three more times before withdrawing and coming on her stomach.

He collapsed on top of her and she held him close.  As their breathing returned to normal, Elizabeth stroked the top of his head and he grabbed her free hand with his, kissing her knuckles. When he felt he could handle the weight of his own body, he drew himself up onto his forearms and looked down at her. She moved her hand from the top of his head to his jaw and smiled.  He smiled back.

[natasha-romanoff-deserved-better]

Children Of Yesterday- Chapter Three

Standing in front of him, are two more children, only slightly older than the one he had found. The blonde child was freakishly skinny with dark bags under his eyes, and was standing with another black-haired slightly taller child who had a bony arm wrapped around him.

The blonde was wearing an over-sized Captain America costume that drowned him, and the other only wearing a leather jacket with sleeves that covered his hands and fell to his knees.

Tony almost chokes.

The blonde in the Captain America costume. The black-haired child standing over him. The scared, timid kid on his hip with glasses and bruises.

He knows who these kids are.

.

After an accident with Hydra and the time stone, Tony and Rhodey are left with six of their teammates turned into young children. Trying to keep the six young, traumatized and rambunctious children safe all while finding a cure and attempting to give them a taste of a real childhood might be their biggest mission yet.

Read Here on AO3 or continue under the read more!

Clint awakes to a rough shove on his shoulder. Jerking up, sleep gone from his eyes in an instant, as he scans the room for danger. There is none- it’s just Natalia. She’s standing by his bedside, clad in the leggings and jacket despite the clock on the wall reading almost 2:30am.

“’Atalia? What are you doing?”

“Get up. We’re leaving.”

“I knew it! You can talk!”

Natasha is unimpressed at his intuition. “Of course I can talk.”

“Then why didn’t you ever talk to Tony or the other guy?”

“Why would I let them know I can understand them? I’m not an idiot. People tell secrets when they think you don’t understand.”

Clint mouth hangs open in amazement at her thought process. “That’s so cool!  I wish I had thou- wait. How did you get in my room?”

Natasha holds up her left hand, a keycard clasped between her fingers. “I stole it from the agent last night when he picked me up.” Natasha rolls her eyes at the thought. “But come on. We have to go, now. Before they realize I took it.”

Clint nods, and rushes to climb out from under the covers of the hospital bed. The commotion rouses Bruce, who sleepily opens one eye to peek at the pair. Natasha grabs his new glasses from the hospital bedside table and hands them to him.

He gives her a small smile in thanks, then looks between the two other kids. “You’re leaving?”

“Yup.” Clint nods. “I gotta get back to my brother. He says hospitals are bad, anyways… You’re coming too, right?”

Bruce sits up, gives them a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t have anywhere to go…”

“You can come with me! Barney says we’re going to join a circus soon! Doesn’t that sound so fun?”

Bruce chews on his bottom for a moment, staring at Clint as he considers his offer.

“Well, I do really like elephants…”

“So, it’s decided then!” Clint exclaims, a smile spreading across his face at his new friend. Natasha rolls her eyes at them and turns away from the pair to glance out the door, checking the hallway for any wondering agents.

“Are you two ready to go or not? We still need to get the others.”

“Yes,” The two of them say in unison. Neither of them had any possessions besides the clothes the hospital had given them, which; while annoying made things a lot easier. No packing required.

 Steve and Bucky are not as excited as Clint and Bruce were.

Bucky stood in front of Steve, who was sat upright on their bed, with his arms crossed and expression hard. “We’re not going.”

“Why not?” Natasha asks, irritation in her accented voice.

“You didn’t plan anything!” He throws his arms up in the air. “How are we even going to get anywhere after we get out?”

Natasha shrugs. “We can figure that out later. I don’t see the problem.”

Bucky gestures over at Steve. “He can’t walk very far. And besides, this place has really good medicine here!”

“So just take some of the medicine?”

Bucky glares at the three of them, until Natasha finally rolls her eyes and gives in. “Fine. Stay here. We’re going home.” She turns around, and nods at Clint and Bruce to follow her out the door.

They shuffle out, quickly hurrying across the hallway to Sam’s door, where Natasha bounces onto her tip toes to scan the keycard across the electronic lock. There is a small click from the lock, and Clint pulls it open for her and Bruce.

Natasha moves over to Sam’s bed to shake his shoulder. “Sam,” She whispers, “Wake up.”

Sam grumbles, brings an arm up and take a swipe at Natasha, which she avoids easily. “Five more minutes.”

Natasha frowns and pinches his arm. He finally opens his eyes, confusion clouding his face.

“What are you all doing here?”

“We’re busting out of here!” Clint tells him.

“What? Why? All these people seem really nice…”

“They kidnapped us.” Natasha deadpans.

“What?”

“We all woke up in an exploded building, and then they forced us onto a plane and now they’ve locked us in here. For no reason. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. Then explain why you’re locked in a hospital?”

“Um,”

Clint spoke up. “We’ll help you get back to your mom and dad. They’re probably worried about you- I know my brother is.”

Sam considers this a moment. He chews on his bottom lip as he meets eyes with the three other standing in front of him. They have a good point.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m coming with you.”

“We gotta get passed the dude at the desk in the front first, though.” Clint reminds them. Natasha thinks for a second, before turning to Bruce.

“Think you could distract him?”

Bruce’s eyes widen. “What? Why me?”

“They’ll never suspect you. You look too nice.”

“What do I do?”

Clint butts in. “It’s easy! Just pretend to be sick or hurt or something. Barney has me do it all the time.”

Natasha nods. “And then I’ll sneak up behind him.”

Bruce is clearly uncomfortable, but he doesn’t back out like he wants too. “Okay…”

Natasha doesn’t waste any time, just grabs his arm and shoves him out the doorway. He trips over his two feet but manages to right himself before he can completely face plant. He shuffles down the hall and around the corner, poking his head out so he can see the agent sitting at the front desk. He is clearly uninterested, lounging back in his chair while his feet are propped up on the desk. All his attention is focused on his phone, engaged in some kind of colorful game.

Bruce wraps his arms around his stomach and hunches over. “Excuse me?” He calls as he steps into view. He brings his eyebrows together, trying his best to put on the best puppy eyes he could.

The agent startles at his voice, jerking up and swiveling around to find Bruce. “Bruce? What- how did you get out of your room? I thought we- wait, are you okay?”

Bruce chooses to ignore the room question, instead shakes his head and motions to his stomach, as he takes another step. “I, uh. I feel sick.”

The man stands up, walking closer to Bruce and kneeling to his level. He opens his mouth to say something, but is cut off by Natasha launching herself onto his back.  

Natasha uses his shoulders to lift and push herself up and get her legs around his neck. The man bucks up and reaches back to try and yank her off, but she continues squeezing with her thighs to keep her balance and restrict his breathing. With her right hand, she reaches down and pinches a point on his neck.

The man goes down. They tumble to the ground together, Bruce narrowly side stepping out of the way and Natasha rolls of his back, a wide smile on her face at her success.

“Whoa!”

“How’d you do that?”

Clint and Sam are watching wide eyed to the side.

“There’s a…” She pauses, trying to remember the English word. “A… sleep point? No. Pressure point on the neck. I pinched it.”

Natasha bends down to the unconscious agent and sticks her hands into his pockets. She produces another keycard, which she hands off to Bruce. She unhooks the gun from his holster and shoves it into her leggings waistband.

Clint runs over to the two large doors across the lobby, grabbing onto the handles. The doors open, revealing more into the compound. It’s the middle of the night, so there are less agents than normal, but still an unsettling amount milling around. Natasha turns back to them, eyebrows furrowed. “We.” She pauses, words elusive, “sneak by them. Find an exit.” She finishes.

“There.” Sam points to a small counter with several computer screens sitting atop. “We can hide behind that… and then sneak into that hallway on the other side.”

“I’ll go first.” Natasha doesn’t wait for a confirmation, instead just darts out into the open, crouched low as she silently moves through the room and ducking behind the counter between it and the wall.

One by one, with the help of Natasha on the other side motioning to them, the other three scurry across to their new hiding spot. Sam is the last to go, and almost there when he slips, drawing the attention of several agents who come dangerously close to spotting him.

Every kid breathes a sigh of relief when Sam makes it safely to them. Natasha worries her bottom lip. “There’s too many of us too all get around like this. We’re too noticeable.”

“What if we turn out the lights?” Clint suggests.

“Yeah!” Sam agrees, nodding along. “I saw that in a movie once. They shut off all the power.”

Natasha looks to Clint for guidance, giving in when she sees his and Sam’s confidence. “But how will we get to the power?”

“Usually it’s a whole room you needa’ find with tons of buttons and switches and things.”

“There’s a map on the wall over here.” Bruce speaks up, pointing at a framed picture labeled “fire escape route” in bright letters.

“Perfect!” Sam, the tallest of the four, stands on his tip toes to see the map clearly. The compound is big, the map almost slightly overwhelming as he scans over it. Not all the rooms are labeled, instead just the general wings. “There.. maybe?” He points to a section that doesn’t have any labels, guessing it must be the general upkeep rooms. “Or actually, maybe, there?” He points at another spot. “Oh, or-“

“Someone’s coming!” Clint warns. He grabs Sam’s wrist to pull him down, Natasha and Bruce on their heels as they take off running down the hallway.

“Which way, Sam?!”

Sam calls out for them to turn right, into a smaller corridor. “I think this way.” He says, trying to keep the uncertainty out of his voice as he leads them. They slow to a jog when they’re out of view from any agents, but the adrenaline pumping through their veins keeps them all on high alert. They don’t stop to catch their breath until they make it to the wing Sam identified and find a room titled controls. Natasha pulls out the keycard and holds it over the lock.

“черт возьми!” Natasha exclaims as the lock flashes red, signaling the keycard was not compatible. She brings the keycard down to examine it closer, before throwing it to the ground in frustration.

Sam watches her in concern, noticing the angry tears building in the corner of her eyes. “It’s okay,” he tells her, moving to pick up the card.

“It was only for hospital locks!”

“Maybe we could…break the lock or something?” Bruce offers.

Clint shakes his head. “I can get in.”

“The key doesn’t work.” Natasha repeats herself at him. She stomps a foot to help emphasize her point, as if he hadn’t just watched her explain it to Sam.

“I know that. I don’t need a key. Look,” Clint points upwards towards the ceiling, where a small vent is blowing cool air. “If I can get up there, maybe I can crawl in?”

Natasha is not impressed with his plan, but she can’t think of any other ideas. Bruce is already helping Clint push a chair they’d found over to just below the vent. “Okay,” Clint instructs. “Someone needs to help me up though.”

“I’m the strongest.” Natasha volunteers.

“No! I am!” Sam looks over at Natasha accusingly.

“No, you’re not!”

“Boys are almost always stronger than girls!”

“That’s not true!” And then quieter, under her breath, “Мудак.”

Sam jerks back. “What the heck does that mean?” He whirls around to Clint. “She just called me something!”

“Can you two shut up?” Bruce cuts in. The three other kids turn to him in surprise at the anger and annoyance in his voice. Once he notices them staring, he hunches back into himself. “Sorry. I just really don’t like fighting...”

Sam apologizes to him, while Natasha stays quiet, but a guilty look painted onto her face.

“Sam is taller than you, though, so he would be best.” Clint tells them. Natasha doesn’t argue, knowing he is right but not wanting to admit it out loud. As Sam climbs onto the chair, Natasha and Bruce hold the legs steady, making sure the chair isn’t going to slip out from under them. Clint steps up onto the chair with Sam and awkwardly begins climbing up onto his shoulders.

Clint takes a second to find his footing, whispering apologizes whenever Sam softly grunts in discomfort. He grabs hold of the vent, threading his small fingers through the bars and yanking the vent cover away. It clatters to the ground, all of them cringing at the loud sound. “Okay!” Clint gets a steady hold into the vent and begins to pull himself up into the small passage. Beneath him, Sam boosts him up the rest of the way. “I’m in!” He announces as he lifts his lower body into it enough to swing his legs inside with the rest of him.

The passageways are small, but much bigger than the ones in his house. Crawling through with practiced ease, he takes the first left he comes across and crawls several more feet until he finds another vent. He peeks through, finding a room below him crowded with all kinds of screens, keyboards, buttons and lights. Clint squeezes himself around, curling up so that he can kick the vent cover out of the way.

Lowering himself down and letting himself drop, he falls hard, his ankle twisting as he hits the floor, and he holds in a grunt of pain. Forcing himself up, he rushes over to the door, pulling the hatch and pushing it open to where Natasha, Sam and Bruce are all anxiously waiting for him.

The three bundle inside, closing the door behind them. Bruce excitedly runs up to the screens, eyes wide as he quickly reads all the words and labels. Sam takes a place next to him, scanning the buttons.

“How do you know what is what?”

Bruce frowns. “I don’t.”

Clint isn’t interested in waiting. “Just press some!” He comes up behind them, reaches out, and runs a hand over a row of buttons. “One of them is bound to be the lights and doors.”

Before Bruce can stop him, the group is plunged into darkness. Shock causes them to freeze for a moment, only broken by Clint letting out a loud hoot and high fiving Bruce.

~~~

Steve picks a piece of skin from his thumbnail, frowning at the small bead of blood that bubbles up. Next to him, Bucky slaps his hand away.

“We should have gone with them.” Steve grumbles at him.

“Why?”

Steve shrugs. “It’s not right for us to stay here and just let them go off. What if they get in trouble? Or need help?”

“Just because they’re doing something doesn’t mean we have to too.”

“No, but if the whole group is going, we should too!” He explains. “Also… I can’t stay here. Ma won’t be able to pay a bill like this. It’s bound to cost an arm and a leg.”

Bucky glares at him for several seconds, before looking up to the ceiling and letting out a heavy sigh. “So, what, you want to go catch up to them or something?”

A smile spreads across Steve’s face as he nods excitedly.

“Ugh. Fine.”

“Yay!” Steve claps. Just as he is slipping out of the bed, everything goes black. “Hey! Turn the lights back on, Buck.”

“I didn’t turn them off.” Bucky frowns, glancing up to the lights. “Look, the hallway is dark too.”

“They probably turned the lights out to save money again. They’re super expensive, probably.”

“Yeah, maybe so.”

The friends tug the door open, the electronic locks no longing functioning due to the power outage. They step out of the room together, coming to a halt when they notice the agent laying haphazardly on the floor in the medical lobby.

Steve rushes over to him, looking down at the guards body. “He’s still breathing. Should we do something?”

Bucky is about to suggest turning him over when he is cut off by a high-pitched alarm ringing out through the air. He covers his ears reflexively as he jumps. The unconscious agent’s walkie talkie sparks to life, a voice calling out for him to answer, and then something about a code 673. “Shit. We gotta go.”

“We can’t just leave him like this!”

“Yes, we can. If someone comes and sees us, they’ll think we did this to him!”

Steve is unconvinced, so Bucky doesn’t wait. He grabs Steve’s wrist and hauls him away from the man, through to the other large doors and pushing their way through. It’s dark, so they can’t quite tell what type of room they’ve entered, but it’s large, and there’s people dressed similar to the agent all running around frantically. They pause, unsure of what to do next or where to go.

A pair of agents run by, and someone shouts an order out to them, telling them “they” are in the west wing and headed towards an exit. Bruce and Steve don’t need to discuss it- they take off running, following some of the agents but keeping in the shadows the best they could, avoiding the emergency lights.

A gunshot echoes through the building, causing them to both flinch a second time. The panicked agents become more frantic at that, yelling at each other to not fire back.

“It’s probably that girl. She shot the machine man who helped us, remember? And they wouldn’t want to shoot a kid.” Steve nods in agreement, and against their instinct, force themselves to run towards the sound of the gun.

They find Natasha standing with a gun held straight out in front of her. Behind her, Clint, Bruce and Sam are all gathered. In front of them, stand several agents, including the eye patched man Bucky recognizes from earlier. Their hands are all up, and one of the women agents is gently trying to coax Natasha to put the gun down, to come back with them.

 ~~

Tony and Rhodey step out of the car, both unspeaking as they walk side by side into the tower, thoughts weighing heavily on each’s shoulders. Tony had thought going back to the tower would provide comfort to him- his home, where he could be surrounded by all the things he owned and loved and where the love of his life was waiting for him. But walking in, he is flooded with reminders of the team’s absence. A tea packet from Bruce left on the counter. Steve’s sketchbook and charcoal pencil settled neatly on an end table by the couch. One of Clint’s stray darts lay under the couch, discarded and forgotten from an aiming contest with Sam. Even the absence of Natasha’s things is a sign of her, her spy habits of leaving no trace.

“I’m glad they’re staying at SHIELD.” Tony says, later that night. He stokes a thumb over Pepper’s bare shoulder as they lay under the covers, Pepper’s head on his chest. She glances up at him, eyebrows raised in question. “When that doctor read off all their medical issues… and Fury’s right. Some of them, Their childhoods… I wouldn’t know how to deal with them.” Pepper isn’t sure who is he trying to convince, her or himself. “I’d only do more damage.”

It had taken Tony over ten minutes, a confirmation from Rhodey and video evidence dug from Friday’s storage to convince Pepper it wasn’t some prank Tony was trying to play on her. She’d handled it calmly, the reality not quite sinking in until later that night, when the tower was unusually calm and quiet.

Pepper doesn’t speak. She knows there is no convincing her husband of otherwise. Maybe, it would have been possible, several weeks ago. Before Peter had broken his leg and been knocked unconscious while under his supervision. Before the liquor supply had been drained in the matter of just several days. His mind is made up. She draws tiny circles into his skin until they both drift off.

FRIDAY jerks them awake, loudly announcing urgent messages from SHIELD. Tony grumbles awake before remembering, why exactly, SHIELD would even be contacting him in the first place. He has several missed calls from Fury, along with one text message reading “Get here now.” Helpful.

Tony and Rhodey arrive to the SHIELD compound, both in their suits and ready for whatever. There are agents running around, yelling demands and questions into phones and walkie talkies. The power appears to have been shut off, besides emergency generator lights and a blaring alarm.

“What the hell is going on?” Tony shouts over the alarm to Fury.

“The damned kids escaped. All six. They’re gone.”  

[hollandroos]

Run To Me; Part Nine

Blow a kiss, Fire a gun: Teaser Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9 Pt.10 Pt.11 Pt.12 Pt.13 Pt.14 Pt.15 Pt.16 Pt.17 Pt.18 Pt.19 Pt.20 + NSFW Alphabet with Mob!Tom

Run To Me: Series Masterlist!

Words: 4,682

Read on Wattpad! + Playlist!

Notes: I apologise if any of the medical info in this is wrong! I did a little research did mostly pieced things together after watching all of greys! (lmao)

Disclaimer: @upsidedownparker did some really amazing work recently on her fic WAHB and i’m in no way trying to take her work!!! this has been planned since chapter one and I’ve discussed it with her :)

It felt like hours before the ambulance arrived, but in reality, it was only minutes. Those minutes consisted of Tom quivering and sitting hunched over on the concrete, rainwater soaking his black pants.

The car that had collided with your daughter had taken off at a fast pace, not even bothering to follow the basic road rules when turning the corner and Tom wasn’t even able to make out the licence plate, though he’d admit that it hasn’t been on his mind as he crouched down by his daughter, words scratching and clawing at the back of his throat. 

Something about the situation didn’t sit right with him- of course a lot didn’t, but the car itself. 

Rosie looked shocked, obviously terrified but her eyes didn’t move from the sky, dark grey clouds moving much slower than the heaves and grunts of pain that left her lips. 

Her hands were grazed, little stones digging into her palms where she fell and fingernails slightly bloody and covered in mud dirtied her dress even more as they shook, right arm twisted at an odd angle and it made Tom screw his face up- despite having seeing this type of thing many times before. Her cheeks were stained with tears both old and new, a visible sign of the obvious pain that she was in and Tom wanted to scoop her up but couldn’t move- he felt frozen, like the rainwater was cementing him down and all he could do was watch as her mouth opened and she began to cry.

Rosie swallowed, the back of her throat burning as she tried to speak but it was a struggle. She wanted to look around frantically but everything hurt. Her back was hard against the concrete road, dress sticking to her skin but she licked her lips gently, tasting something warm and crimson.

She let out a choked sob, eyes squeezing shut. “Mommy.”

Tom shushed her, pushing a strand of curly brown hair away from her eyes, feeling her warm tears against his fingertips.

“Hey, she’s coming okay? She’s going to come soon.” He whispered to his daughter, trying to drown out the words of the lady from emergency services that he’d been talking to for the last two minutes.

“Mo-mommmy.” She sobs, eyes stricken with fear. She recognised the man, of course she did. He was the one that was nice to her and called her a badass but he most definitely wasn’t her mommy. 

She lifted her right arm, wanting to reach out and grab something but she didn’t know what, she just knew she needed to hold something- only she was struck with pain, crying out as it somehow hurt even more.

Tom could no longer tell the difference between her tears and raindrops as he clenched his fists. He bit down on his lip at the sight of hot, red blood seeping through her teeth. He moves his phone, blocking out the speaker as the lady continues to speak to him.

“Someone help!” He screeches, scaring the girl slightly. His throat burned which was something the two shared. It ached and begged him to stop but he only continued yelling until two pairs of footsteps came out.

Cars pulled to the side and looked at the scene, some getting out of their vehicles and collecting around the pair and Tom hated it. He hated people viewing his daughter like she was some kind of- some kind of damn circus animal. They gaped and cried and whispered, and Tom wanted to tell them to stop it, but he couldn’t.

He should’ve scooped her up and put her on the sidewalk, resting her broken figure on a bed of grass instead of concrete but he feared that if he even touched her incorrectly then she’d break, entire body fall apart beneath his fingertips as she shattered like a piece of glass.

Rosie cranes her neck and spots her twisted arm, gasping for air that didn’t seem to be making its way into her lungs, Tom places her head back down on the concrete, putting his hand beneath her head so that she had something soft to lay on.

“Your mom’s coming, you hear? So is help but I need you to just lay back and look at me.” Tom speaks carefully, staring into her hazy eyes instead of those that peered on. In the distance he hears sirens, growing closer with each passing second.

Rosie nods as best she can and looks up at Tom, lips trembling.

Pairs of footsteps rush closer, two to be exact and Rosie almost jumps up when she sees’ her mommy, even in a large amount of shock and pain she still tries to get to you. It fails due to the pain erupting through her lower abdomen. Your hair was sprawled around messily, ponytail no longer existent. From the moment they discovered your daughter missing to the moment you saw a crowd forming panicked on the sidewalk your heart rate had accelerated. It was a gut feeling, mothers instincts.

You fall to the concrete, hitting the ground with such force that you were lucky your kneecaps survived the fall and the water immediately soaks your yoga pants, running through the thin material to your legs.

“Rosie- Ro.” You say, “Hey baby.”

You look her up and down, noticing the changes from the little grazes that lined her face to her arm that was twisted sickeningly and her breathes that were harsh, struggled. A set of fingers take your hand, gripping harshly to the point where her nails- as short as they were, dug into your hand.

“It hurts.” She cries, clinging onto your arm with her left hand.

While the drug situation had previously been your worst nightmare, this topped it easily.

“I know it does, but help is coming.” She nods, tears running down her cheeks and you run your thumb over her palm soothingly, even if it were only a small act. You look to Tom who sat on the other side of her, staring with wide eyes. 

“What happened- what the fuck-”

He stops you, looking up. Between the two of you, it was clear that visibly you were more panicked, but on the inside, Tom was terrified. One of the daycare teachers try to clear the road, shooing away the viewers who send you pitiful glances.

“She was hit by a car, it was a hit and run. The ambulance is on the way.”

You nod, looking back to Rosie. “Look at me, Roo. You’re so brave.” You send your daughter the warmest smile you could muster up. “You’re going to be okay.”

“My arm hurts and I can’t- It won’t let me breathe.” She mutters, head drifting back, but Toms' hand remains. He tries to ignore the fact that his hand was slowly growing red, a small puddle of blood forming in his palms.

The ambulance pulls up, coming to a sudden halt a few meters away and you don’t drag your eyes off of your daughter who was almost oblivious, spending the time trying to wiggle her toes that were almost frozen in her shoes.

Your thumb continues to run soft circles. “Just take slow breaths, remember? Like I do when I freak out.”

Over exaggerating it, she takes a deep breath, air entering her lungs slowly- or so you hoped. She holds it for a moment before exhaling and you give her a smile, the paramedics rush over, two of them and you inch away so they can get in, but Rosie only whimpers and tries to get closer to you. You had to trust them with her- but really you wanted to hold her close, pull her into your chest and hope that’d be enough to fix all of her wounds.

The reality of the situation was that you had to trust Rosie with complete strangers, and it was harder to accept then you thought it would be. The next few minutes go by in a blur and you couldn’t recite it even if you raked your brain. But Rosie could. She could recite every word spoken to her by the paramedics, remember exactly how it felt to lay there in the cold and retell just where it hurt. Because even in a state like this, she was attentive.

“Who’s coming in the ambulance?” One of the paramedics ask, red hair pushed back neatly in a ponytail as she glances between you and Tom, who now stared down at his blood struck hands.

You look at him, hearing more sirens in the distance, red and blue lights flashing wildly. “I can’t, the cops-”

“Go, let me sort it.” He pushes, climbing off of the pavement, wiping his hands against his jeans and you blink away any remaining tears, seeing the crimson red that stained his pants.

“Are you sure?” You ask, knowing he meant both situations about whatever happened at the daycare, and with the hit and run.

“You know I can see to it, trust me and go with her, I’ll come down and send you a text when I arrive.” He says, despite the fact that he was doubly himself currently. But the last thing you needed was another thing to worry about.

“Tom-” You start, only for him to cut in.

“Go be with your girl”

Hesitantly, you nod and walk in the direction of the ambulance. While you do that, Tom walks towards the police officers. How he was going to deal with such a situation moments after seeing his own daughter hit and as injured as she was? you weren’t sure but climbed in the back of the vehicle where your daughter was already waiting.

You shake both out of fear, and because of the water that had soaked your clothing, both freezing cold and stuck in a panic of shock and take a seat where you were instructed, not wanting to get in the way. At the same time, you’re an arm's length away from Rosie whos sobs could still be heard.

“Mommy?” She struggles, pushing the hands of the paramedic away. “No!” She tells them again, not being able to see you.

“Yeah?” You speak up just loud enough so that she knows’ you’re there and Rosie stops struggling, craning her neck in the direction of your voice until she can see you from the corners of her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” She tells you as the paramedics begin to get to work. She struggles to see you, wincing as she has to strain her neck. “I-I didn’t mean to get hurt.”

You wipe away threatening tears with your already soaked t-shirt, heart beating erratically as she apologises. “It wasn’t your fault, okay? None of this was your fault.”

She tries to nod and does the best you can and you pull your phone out of your back pocket, going straight to your father's contact. You scroll right past Aidens, feeling bile rest easy in the back of your throat just at the thought of him. At that moment, he was nothing more then dead to you.

-

Tom walks through the hospital halls, wet shoes squeaking against the floor.

He always hated hospitals, especially since the last time he was here- nearly five years ago. But last time he was here for you, now he was here for his daughter. Still, the sight of you in the hospital bed, reasonably battered and stiff had remained in his head to this day. He could still remember your room number, and the colour of the balloons Paddy had gotten you as a ‘get well soon’ present- pink, yellow and blue.

The smell of disinfectant is enough to make him screw his face up, but Tom was surprised to see that the children's ward was much different. While he’d pictured white walls, white chairs and blinds- white everything to say the very least, he was surprised to see that it was in fact, reasonably colourful.

Toys lay scattered in the waiting room, cartoon pictures all over the walls and a tv in the corner plays what could only be a Barbie movie. He almost trips over a toy car, foot instead coming in contact with a plush toy as he makes his way to the front desk.

There were sick kids sitting around the room, some on their parent's laps coughing wildly, while some had casts or cried softly. Some looked sicker then others and it made him worry more about his own child and the case that she was in.

“I’m here to see Rosie Y/L/N?” He rushes out, fascination with the ward disappearing as his hands meet the edge of the counter. Suddenly he wished he’d bought at least a jacket considering his shirt was still drying and sticking to his abdomen in places.

The receptionist types the name into the computer without another word, typing away slower then Tom would’ve liked but he waits patiently, foot tapping away against the floor matching the sound of the clock ticking in the distance.

He runs his fingers over his thumb, the side of it to be more specific, near one of his most recent tattoos and manages to drown out the waiting room chaos for a moment. Rosie- Rose.

“No one under that name has been admitted.” She tells him with a thick American accent.

Tom tilts his head and curses, wondering if he’d gotten the wrong hospital, but quickly backtracks.

“What about Rosie Holland?”

The lady types away again, faster this time before glancing up at Tom, raising a brow at his frazzled state. “What is your relationship with her?”

His foot stops tapping, eyes widening slowly realising that she had his last name- of course she did though because you still had his and despite the situation, he feels a sudden wave of pride which was a change from the constant guilt he’d been feeling lately.

“I’m her father.”

Maybe he only used it because he had a gut feeling they were only letting direct family members see her, or maybe he said it because it was a mere fact. He was her father. Tom took great pride in the word, despite it being the first time he’d properly used it. But he still felt unworthy of it.

She passes over a visitors sticker and Tom slaps it on his wet shirt, “Room 209, floor two.”

He thanks the lady and continues down the hall until he reaches room 209, knocking first. Maybe he hesitated first, debating if seeing her straight away was the best thing to do. It was the first time he’d thought about it since leaving the daycare and now he was doubting himself.

Before he could stop himself he knocks, bruised knuckles hitting the door repeatedly and it swings open, revealing you and a sleeping Rosie, her head plush against the pillow, mouth slightly agape as a line of drool runs down her chin. A hot pink cast covered her right arm and it was the brightest thing in the room, gaining his attention almost straight away.

You look up, hair sticking to your face as you lift your head off of the kid-sized mattress they had provided your daughter with, smiling lightly when you see Tom standing at the entrance a little unsure of himself. Maybe at was an understatement to say that your heart sped up, but after today you looked at him as a hero- even if it was just while you were in a state of pure gratefulness.

“Hey, come in.” You say quietly, listening to the gentle snores that slip your daughter's lips. She sounded peaceful, a change from her consistent cries that had broken your heart only a couple of hours earlier.

Tom shuts the door slowly, making sure it barely makes a sound as it closes and gently pads over to the two of you. It didn’t take very many steps to reach you in the small, shoebox hospital room, dodging the little bed just a smidge too big for the small girl held together by bits of cast and watched carefully by white circles that stuck to her skin, watching every little detail. Waiting for a change.

Drawings were stuck to the walls from previous patients, a selection of stuffed toys lining the windowsill. It was much happier then the hospital rooms upstairs, but an uneasy feeling still settled in the pit of his stomach.

“Hey.” He says, grabbing a seat that sat against the wall and gently placing it down next to you so that he could talk without being too loud. He takes a seat close enough so that he can see the tears that stained your cheeks, bags visible under your eyes and the little baby hairs at the back of your head that were tucked beneath the mucky green hoodie.

He fits comfortably beside you, hands going to his knees instead of the side of the hospital bed.

“Here, my dad bought up some stuff including spare clothes so I don’t need this anymore.” You unwrap the blanket from around your shoulders, snuggling further into the sweat and leggings that your father had generously bought, glancing at the teddy that Rosie held under arms that he’d grabbed too.

“I can’t-” He tries to say, grabbing the woollen blanket only to hand it back.

You shake your head, placing it on his lap. “Tom, take it, please.”

He sighs, knowing you weren’t going to back down and despite the hospital room being warm thanks to the heaters, he was still cold. He wraps it around himself, suddenly engulfed in warmth.

“How is she?”

“She was in a lot of pain before she fell asleep, the doctor said that the painkillers would have kicked in by the time she wakes up though so that’s good.” You look away from your daughter, and instead over to Tom. “She broke her right arm as you can see by the- pink and they said that she took a good hit to the abdomen and did a few scans, there was no internal bleeding but a lot of bruising. She was so lucky she didn’t break her ribs, or puncture a lung but they still want to keep her in overnight, just to keep an eye on her head.”

Concern fills Toms eyes, despite knowing she was okay- or at least as okay as she could be after taking a hard hit like that. A white bandage was wrapped securely around the girls head pushing her curls hard against her forehead and a little spot of blood stained the back of the bandage. Tom forced his eyes away from the site.

“We’re so lucky. I’ve never seen her so scared before, you know?”  You finish, thumb running circles over her palm.

Despite knowing that her injuries for such an incident were only minimal, he felt nervous for the girl that lay still beneath the pooh bear sheets, fingers wrapped around the top pulling them up around her shoulder as she faced her mom, hot pink cast against her hip gently.

“She was so strong,” Tom says, finally finding his voice beneath layers of fear he’d been swallowing up to this point.

“She is.” You smile, eyes remaining on Rosie. “Now she just has to wear that until her arm heals.” There’s an awkward silence that settles for a few moments, before you turn to him in your seat, eyes hooded with stress and exhaustion. “Thank you- for being there for her, if you weren’t then It would’ve been a stranger.”

“It’s not that big of a deal, I just spoke to her.” He tries to tell you, pulling the blanket closer to his chest.

“She told me that. You know if you weren’t there and she tried to get up she could have more injuries then this?” You tell him. “You were there for her, I’m so grateful.”

“I just happened to be there, you know?”

The wind outside caused tree branches to scratch against the window, the awful weather making the day somehow worse then it already was.

The sheets shift as Rosie stirs, rolling onto her back and the two of you watch as she tries to open her eyes, lashes fluttering against her cheeks a few times before she successfully gets them open. Deep, brown eyes scan the room without craning her head too much, headache still vaguely there. She scans until she finds you.

Overcome with a numb feeling, she struggles to make sense of the room, focusing more on the fact that only just before she went to sleep she was in crippling pain, cheeks still puffy and eyes squinted from all the tears she shed. She was exhausted from crying, you both probably were.

“Mommy?”

“Hey.” You smile warmly, your voice no more then a whisper. You lean forward in the seat as she wets her lips. “You remember what happened?”

She nods, blinking a few times to adjust her vision and looks at the man sitting beside her mother with the hair that was like hers, the nice man that had found her when she was hurt. He stares at her, hands pulled up to his lips and eyebrows knitted together. He didn’t know what he was waiting for.

“Hello.” She whispers, suddenly feeling immensely shy.

Tom was shocked, but sits up in his seat, coughing lightly. “Hey.” He loosens his grip on the blanket. “How do you feel?”

“Head hurts.” She groans, reaching up with her left arm to scratch at the bandage and Tom’s quicker then you, taking her hand and placing it back down on top of the sheets. It was true what they said about kids hands being soft because hers sure as hell were and maybe it was weird of him to think that- but it was true.

His hand, purple and blue fading bruises sit on top of hers for a moment, the fading scratches and nail marks on her hand, and the few that scattered up her arm were visible and she lets out an audible gasp at the sight.

“Just like me?” She asks, voice slightly scratchy after just waking up.

He wants to tell the four year old that he got his marks from doing something different- something that was classed as bad and something that she shouldn’t even think of doing but can only nod his head, not wanting to turn this into a lecture about wrong and right when she was wounded and struggling to stay away.

“Just like you, see?” He holds his hand up and Rosie pokes the bruises, her mouth falling agape as she remembers getting little marks like that after falling off of her scooter, or bumping into a wall.

You watch them interact, Rosie somehow radiating both tiredness and confusion at the same time as the clock strikes seven pm. She places his hand back down on the bed, grabbing her teddy that was not leaning over the side of the bed and pulls him into her chest.

“The doctor said you can have your lollypop when you wake up, do you want it right now?” You offer, grabbing it off of the side table. The treat rustles between your fingers.

She nods her head gently, the bandage shifting a little as you unwrap the candy and hand it to her. It was raspberry flavoured, almost as pink as the cast on her arm and places the treat between her lips. Rosie seems to forget about the pain in a moment, instead of focusing on the flavours that were exploding in her mouth.

Dropping her teddy to grab the stick, she pulls it out of her mouth and shoves it in Toms’ direction, waiting patiently for him to grab it.

“Want some?” She offers, the lolly encased in her own saliva.

Tom tries not to screw his face up, her fingers already sticky around the candy and shake his head politely, declining the offer. “I’m okay, thank you though.”

“Mommy?” She hands it over to you, chubby fingers tightly gripping the stick and you shake your head as Tom had only moments earlier.

“It’s yours, Roo, you deserve it.”

She smiles and places it back between her teeth, pain no longer visible in the way she lay back against the sheets, fingers sticking to her teddy that she tugged tightly to her chest, the little dress she’d been wearing was in a bag in the corner replaced by a yellow hospital gown that hung below her elbows, pulled right up to her neck so that she couldn’t play with nor see at least some of the wires.

Tom pushes his seat back, the plastic scraping against the floors uncomfortably. Rosie snaps her head up, wincing as pain shoots through it and grips your hand a little harder. “I should grab a nurse, just to check up on things, you know?”

Tom glances at her little feet that were covered by the sheets, but he could see where they ended, nonetheless. His girl was so small, no smaller then most other four-year-olds but he wasn’t used to being around children so maybe he didn’t know that. Somehow he felt that the little girl in the hospital bed, as small as she was would quickly become his entire world.

“Yeah, good idea.” You reply, looking back to Rosie who was trying to break the lolly with her teeth.

Tom leaves the room, hand gripping the door handle harshly as he tugs it open. Any anger he’d been feeling, all of the frustration that had been replaced with concern and care while he was in that hospital room came back up like bile, his jaw clenching the second the door closed. He stepped out into the hall and leans against the wall, flicking out his phone.

Tom leans against the wall in the hallway, watching to make sure no one listening in before clicking Harry’s contact. He’s met with a familiar ringing sound which continues for a few moments before his brother picks up, not even getting in a hello before Tom’s speaking, his words quick and slightly mumbled as he hurries to get everything out.

“I need you to get Aiden Wilson, I’m sure you remember who that is.”

“Woah- Hello to you too.” Harry chuckles, fingers tapping against his older brothers desk. “Course I remember Wilson.”

Harry leaned back in the easily oversized leather seat, the fire crackling behind him and chucks the pen he’d been holding back down on the wooden desk. Of course his brother had left him with the paperwork.

Tom groans, rubbing his eyes out of pure stress, which was also evident in his voice and how harsh his words were. “This isn’t a fucking joke I need you to get Wilson and I need you to take him down to the warehouse.”

“What happened?” Harry questions, already notifying his twin brother who was only just down the hall.

“I’ll explain everything later but you were right-” Tom lowers his voice as two nurses walk past, turning to face the wall more. “We should’ve just done it.”

“Told you, didn’t I?” Harry remarks, never one to miss a good ‘I told you so’ moment.

Tom felt the need to shout at his brother but sighs deeply, glancing back into the hospital room through the small window that was available. He sees’ Rosie sitting up, talking to you about something and even smiling and feels a pang of jealousy and need to get back in the room.

“Shut the hell up and do it, he’s probably already on the run.” He instructs his younger brother.

“Can do. Anything you want us to do to him?” Harry would admit, he had been craving action lately and now that it was happening, he was beyond excited. Ready to get his hands dirty.

“Whatever the hell you want, just don’t kill him yet. We need to have a chat.”

“Geez, angry Tom is back.” Harry snickers, getting out of his seat and grabbing his coat. “See you later, boss.”

-

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Part 10

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[princess--af]

EXO - Daddy!au

MINSEOK/XIUMIN: ‘Bend over Daddy’s knee, you need to be punished.’

Minseok was not happy.

He had given me that look just before we left the apartment to go have dinner with his work friends. The one that said he was not happy other people were getting to see me in the tight white dress I had just bought myself, apparently being much too tight and short for a casual dinner with friends.

And to make matters worse, we ended up at a traditional Thai restaurant, seated on cushions on the floor, making the dress ride up impossibly high on my thighs. Enough so that he had to drape his jacket across the lap to prevent wandering eyes (or hands) that were not his own.

The ride back home was silent, Minseok tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, not looking or speaking to me the entire way home, content on listening to the late night music they played on the radio.

The walk up to the door of the apartment was even more silent, Minseok stepping aside to let me in first, walking past me taking my shoes off in the doorway, headed straight for the bedroom. I followed him.

“Minnie, I’m sorry, I didn’t-” i started, sealing my lips shut when he held up  a hand.

“Bend over Daddy’s knee, you need to be punished.” Smoothing out his slacks, he waited for me to hesitantly climb onto his lap, jumping when his hands lifted the hem of my dress, rubbing gently along my pantie-clad bottom. “Do you know why you’re being punished?”

Whimpering softly, I tensed when he lifted one of his hands, only to relax when I saw he was tugging a cushion towards him, pushing it under my chest for support.

“Because I wore something inappropriate in front of… Daddy’s friends… And I embarrassed him.” Biting my lip, I buried my face in the blanket, gasping at the sharp pain that came from the first smack, wiggling in his lap a little to alleviate the pain.  

“Don’t move, little one,” Minseok’s free hand pressed down on my lower back, keeping me still against him. “Just 9 more, then I’ll let you go. Do you think you can handle just 9 more little smacks?

JUNMYEON/SUHO: ‘Let Daddy spoil you.’

Junmyeon had been waiting outside the University gates, ignoring the appreciative looks he was getting from the other students, only perking up when he saw me skipping towards him, reaching up on my tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his already puckered lips.

“How was class?” Wrapping an arm around my waist, Jun led me away from the University, hand sneaking into the back pocket of my jeans, squeezing playfully.

I shrugged, tucking myself close to his side. “I got a HD on my Social Psychology exam, but that was as interesting as it got today.”

Jun grinned down at me, pressing a soft kiss to my temple. “I’m proud of you, baby. We should celebrate then? I know you studied hard for that one.”

Humming softly, I leant my head on his shoulder, sighing when I saw where he was steering us.

“Junmyeon, I hardly think a little High Distinction warrants a Rodeo shopping trip.”

Junmyeon ignored my comment, walking us across the road, the crowds gradually thinning out from the usual University students, now only showcasing rich house wives and businessmen, spending their lunch break in the high end fashion street.

“I don’t need anything, Junny.” Digging my heels into the ground, I stopped us from walking any further, Junmyeon pouting down at me, both his arms wrapping around my waist. “Don’t try to pull aegyo on me! That’s not fair!”

“Please baby, I just want to treat you! We should celebrate even the small victories,” ducking down to tuck his face into my neck, he pressed soft kisses along my jaw, smirking against my neck when he felt me shiver in his hold. “Please… Let Daddy spoil you..”

Blushing, I glanced around, making sure no one heard him, pushing him away from my neck, grabbing his hand instead.

“Fine, then I want a new handbag and matching shoes for your friends party next week…”

Jun raised a brow, smiling down at me. “Is that all?”

Humming softly, a little smile came to my face. “Maybe some new lingerie? But I want to surprise you with it… So no peeking!”

YIXING/LAY: ‘Did you wear that just for Daddy?’

Stretching out along the length of Yixing’s plush couch, I let out a soft moan, the joints in my back popping satisfyingly. I had been hunched over the coffee table for the better part of the afternoon, flicking back and forth between textbooks and my notebook, attempting to finish the perfect essay a week before it was due. Usually everything would be left until a few days before, but Yixing had promised to take a week off work to spend time with me, and the temptation of a week of sex and good food and cuddling on the couch without any pesky work interruptions was too good of an opportunity to pass up.

“Well this is a lovely sight to come home too…”

Grinning, I rolled onto my front, arching my back and stretching out like a cat, giving Yixing a good view of my backside as he dropped his work things near the front door. I listened to the soft shuffling of his socks against the timber flooring, blinking innocently at him when he crouched next to me, one of his hands running appreciatively down my bare thigh.

“Have you finished your work?” Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to my forehead, lightly stroking the back of my thigh.

“Almost. Just a few more paragraphs, then can you edit it for me?” Lifting myself onto my knees, Yixing sat beside me, leaning his side against the arm rest, allowing me to rest my head on a pillow on his lap.

“Of course. You can be quite the diligent student when you have the right incentive,” he teased, carding one of his hands through my hair, scratching lightly at the base of my neck, the other hand resuming to stroke my thigh. Humming softly in agreement, I nuzzled my face into his stomach, practically purring when his hand disappeared under the oversized hoodie I had thrown on. “This certainly isn’t your typical lazy day outfit… Did you wear this just for Daddy?”

Fingering lightly at the lace bodysuit I had put on this morning, Yixing’s hand at the base of my neck tightened slightly; not enough to physically keep me lying down, but firmly letting me know I wasn’t allowed to move until he told me to.

“I think you’re allowed a reward for working hard today,” Yixing hummed, running the tip of his index finger gently over my heat, a little smirk gracing his lips when I tried to subtly spread my legs to allow him better access. “Lie down properly for me, princess. Daddy wants to devour that pretty pussy of yours.”

BAEKHYUN: ‘Only Daddy is allowed to touch you here.’

“You understand why I don’t like you hanging out with him, right?” Baekhyun gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, but his hand on my thigh still stayed the same; warm, comforting, rubbing soothingly.

Sinking into the plush leather seats a little more, I nodded, distracting myself from the conversation by fiddling with the cuff links on his shirt.

“And you know what he tried to do was wrong?” Slowing the car down at the red light, he glanced over at me, tutting quietly when he saw my eyes well up. “I’m not upset with you, babygirl, so please don’t think that. I just don’t like the idea of anyone trying to hurt my precious baby.”

“I know,” I pouted, blinking quickly to keep away the tears. “Can we cuddle when we get home? I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.”

Raising a brow, he simply nodded, squeezing my thigh gently as he continued the trek home, humming softly along to the music playing on the radio, knowing his singing always helped me calm down.

Pulling into the driveway, he parked just outside the dorms doors, hurrying out of the driver's seat and around to my side, helping me up out of the low car, locking it behind him as he helped me hobble my way across the gravel driveway in my heels, shivering until he closed the front door behind us, trapping us in the heated walkway.

“Never wearing these shoes again,” I huffed, bracing myself against the wall and lifting one foot up, frozen fingers trying to undo the buckles on the offending shoes.

“One more thing baby girl,” Baekhyun hummed softly, stopping me from my mission of trying to undo the buckle on my heels, his body pressing me against one of the walls, his slim frame towering over me. I shivered at the feeling of his hand gliding up my bare thigh, the feeling a much more pleasant and welcomed one, compared to earlier. Running lightly over the scrap of lace that covered my behind, before changing direction to cup the front of me, fingers deftly removed the offending material so one finger could sink into my wet heat, a loud gasp leaving my mouth. “Only Daddy is allowed to touch you here, okay baby girl?”

Nodding numbly, I attempted to grind down onto his hand, which was pulled away from my core, his finger tapping against my mouth impatiently. “Daddy has to mark his baby girl up, so no one will ever try to touch her again..”

JONGDAE/CHEN: ‘Daddy’s so proud of you, beautiful.’

Bouncing lightly on the balls of my feet, hands clenched tightly in the pockets of my coat, I tried to avoid making eye contact with the cashier before I actually had to, knowing it would cause an even bigger anxiety flare up than what I was already experiencing.

Jongdae had insisted on meeting for lunch at his favourite cafe off campus, and had texted through his order, as he was late getting out of his class and didn’t want to make me wait any longer. Which meant I had to order for the both of us, in an unfamiliar cafe, that was thankfully not too full. What’s the worst that could happen.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” The chirpy cashier smiled sweetly at me, tilting her head like a confused puppy when she saw the wide eyed look I was giving her.

“Uh, the wagyu beef burger with an iced coffee, and…” I paused, glaring up at the menu along the wall. “The fritters… With a… Strawberry milkshake?”

“Is that a question, or is that a definite on the milkshake?” She teased playfully, fingers already tapping along the screen to put the order through.

“Ah yes, please, I want the milkshake,” Blushing, I handed over my card, staring down at my freshly manicured nails. Jongdae’s mentality was if I had pretty nails, it would stop me from anxiously picking at them and causing myself harm.

“Alright, go sit and your food should be out shortly,” Smiling sweetly once more, she handed the card and a number back to me. Breathing out a sigh of relief, I bowed my head at her in thanks, scurrying off to the back corner of the cafe where I had set down my things before ordering, only to see someone sitting opposite the chair containing my backpack.

“How long have you been here?” Dropping my purse into my backpack, I raised a brow at my boyfriend sat across from me, his cheeky kitten smile ever present on his face.

“Long enough to see you did well at ordering our food,” he shrugged, reaching across the table to take a hold of my hand, lacing our fingers together and squeezing gently. “Daddy’s so proud of you, beautiful.”

Shaking in my seat lightly with giddiness, I couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on my face, hiding it behind my sweater paw, squeezing his hand back.

“Now tell me about your day. Surely something amazing must’ve happened for you to be this brave.”

CHANYEOL: ‘Daddy bought you some new clothes today. Why don’t you try them on?’

Sighing softly as I toed off my sneakers at the front door, I listened for any excessive noise that would indicate if Chanyeol had invited his friends over after finishing work. The only sound that greeted me was the gentle murmuring of the TV.

“Baby, is that you?” I heard Chanyeol call from the back of the apartment, indicating he had probably only just beaten me home. Shuffling down the hall, pushing open the partially closed door to our bedroom, I leant against the door frame, watching my boyfriend wander around with just a towel slung over his hips, back still wet from the shower. “How was work?”

“Tiring.” Pushing myself away from the door, I started to strip out of my own clothes, wrinkling my nose at the smell of paint that had probably permanently seeped into my work clothes. “Apparently 7 year olds don’t enjoy being told to do their math work, and think painting the teacher is much more fun.”

Chanyeol paused his search for his favourite comfy sweats, turning his head to pout at me. “You should’ve texted me, and I would’ve waited to shower with you…” Dropping the towel, he stepped into a pair of boxers, pulling the sweats on, sitting on the edge of the bed and gesturing me forward. Holding both my hands in his, he tugged me onto his lap, large hands gently holding my bare waist to keep me secure. “How about I run you a bath. I’ll wash your hair for you, get you all nice and clean. Daddy bought you some new clothes today, so why don’t you try them on and give me a little fashion show after your bath, hmm?”

Hooking my chin over his shoulder, my eyes scanned over the bags lined up neatly against the wall, Gucci, Agent Provocateur and Chanel bags glittering prettily in the late afternoon sun.

Wiggling happily in his lap, I pressed a kiss to his jaw, letting out a content sigh when his hands slowly started stroking up and down my back, unclipping my bra to have complete free access. “You’re the best.”

“My girl only deserves the best,” Chanyeol hummed, littering kisses across one of my shoulders, hands pressing me firmly against him. “Come on, we need to get you in the bath before any of this continues…”

I pulled back, pouting, beginning the slow roll of my hips across his slow hardening cock. “But Daddy… I need to show you how grateful I am for all of the gifts and the pampering…”

KYUNGSOO/D.O: ‘You better behave tonight, babygirl.’

Kyungsoo hated frat parties. I knew this. His house knew this. But no one ever listened to his objections when he tried to weasel his way out of yet another party his house was throwing.

“There’s no reason to be throwing one,” he would try to say, scowling at his house brothers in an effort to scare them away from even thinking of having another party. But they never listened, simply cooing at their small and scary brother, and proceeding to plan another chaotic party.

“I’m not going,” Kyungsoo had showed up at my dorm room 2 hours before the party, clad in black skinny jeans, a black tee and his favourite charcoal jacket thrown over the top. Typical party wear. Black so he could blend into the shadows and not be forced into any of the stupid drinking games his brothers loved so much. “Why are you wearing that?”

“... Nini invited me…” Zipping up the fly of my black skinny jeans, I turned back to my mirror, adjusting my outfit slightly. “We don’t have to stay the whole time. But you knew what you signed up for when you pledged, and you knew you would be made to go when you accepted Treasurer.. We can leave half way through and go to that pizza place you like?” Kyungsoo stayed silent, glaring at my back. “Do you want me to change my top?”

He looked away, a light blush crossing his cheeks. “No, it’s fine. I can’t believe they invited you even when I told them no. It’s basically blackmailing me..” Rolling my eyes, I slipped into my favourite black boots, throwing on a dark bomber jacket to keep my shoulders warm on the walk over. “We’re matching.”

“Of course, I can’t let my grumpy bum Daddy be all dark and brooding by himself,” I teased, sliding my hands along his abdomen and linking them together at the base of his back, nuzzling my face into his neck. He tsked softly, one hand slipping into my back pocket, the other cupping the back of my neck, squeezing lightly until I lifted my face to look at him. Raising a brow slightly, his eyes flicked down to my lips, a little smirk appearing when he saw me raise myself onto tiptoe.

“You better behave tonight, babygirl,” Kyungsoo hummed, barely brushing his lips over mine, instead moving down to suck gently at the sensitive skin under my jaw. “No flirting with my brothers, only 2 drinks, and when I say we’re leaving, I don’t want any arguments from you. Is that clear?”

Fisting the bottom of his shirt between my hands, I nodded, whining low in my throat until he planted a gentle kiss on my lips. “I promise I’ll be good.”

JONGIN/KAI: ‘My precious babygirl. I love you.’

Breathing deeply through my nose, I fisted the blanket Jongin had thrown over me; the soft pink one he had brought back from his recent trip to Japan with little corgis printed along the bottom.

“Are you with me, baby?” Squeezing my eyes shut, I burrowed my nose into the blanket, whimpering when I could smell Jongin’s cologne in the fabric. He always draped it over himself when he was working from home and got cold.

“Daddy,” I whined softly, blinking quickly when he pulled the blanket back from my face, the lights in our bedroom dimmed so they didn’t irritate my eyes.

“Sit up for me, baby.” Tucking his hands under my arms, he lifted me sideways onto his lap, one arm wrapped securely around my waist to prevent me from toppling over, the other holding a bottle of water up for me. “Drink some for me, please.” Huffing, I dropped my head onto his shoulder, hands wrapping loosely around his hand that was holding the water, sipping slowly from the straw. “You did so well for me, baby. Daddy is very very proud of you. You took your punishment like a good girl.”

Pushing his hand away, I snuggled my face into the crook of his neck, pressing a wet kiss to his heated skin to let him know I was still listening.

“Do you want to have a shower with Daddy?” I tapped twice on his chest; yes.

“Does your bottom hurt a bit?” Two tentative taps. “Alright, I’ll rub some cream on it after the shower. Can you speak to Daddy? I need to know you’re ok, and you’re not angry with me for punishing you.”

Whining,I pulled back from my warm spot, pouting up at him. “Could never be angry with you…”

Jongin smiled almost bashfully down at me, plush lips pressing against my forehead in a silent thank you. “You know I love you, right?” I nodded, letting him move my body around so I was comfortably straddling his lap, my hands resting comfortably on his warm chest. “My precious babygirl… I love you… So damn much.”

Wiggling happily on his lap, I surged forward to peck his lips, hands trailing up to rest on his shoulders for leverage. “I love you too, Daddy… Even if you beat my ass black and blue…”

Scoffing softly, he wrapped his arms around my waist, throwing me onto my back and crawling over my giggling body. “It’s only a light purple right now, but I can change that if you keep being cheeky!”

SEHUN: ‘You look so pretty sucking Daddy’s cock.’

Shifting slightly, I attempted to make myself more comfortable, hands splayed on top of Sehun’s thighs for support, leaning heavily on them instead of on my knees, hoping to relieve some of the pain. Sehun had put a pillow down there before we had started, but there was only so much it could do against the hardwood timber flooring of his apartment.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” Sehun hummed softly, slender fingers tangling into my hair, scratching lightly at the base of my neck. “Daddy’s so proud of you…”

Humming softly around his cock, I sunk down a little more, determined to show Sehun I could be good and I was deserving of his praise.

Sehun let out a shaky breath, the only indicator, apart from the slightly tightened grip on my hair, that he was affected by what I was doing. He was always so composed. “Fuck… Are you trying to make me cum?”

Blinking up at him innocently, I hollowed my cheeks, my tongue trailing along the underside of his cock, flicking at the head, eyes crinkled up in glee when he threw his head back, letting out a loud groan.

“Shit, when did you get so good at this?” Glaring down at me, he cupped the back of my neck, my only warning that he was about to fuck my mouth. “Open your mouth, baby. If you’re not going to play nice, than neither am I.”

Gripping his thighs tighter, I took a deep breathe through my nose, screwing my eyes shut at the first tentative thrust; testing the waters to see if I was okay. Shuffling closer to Sehun on my knees, I glanced up at him, relaxing my throat and nodding at him the best I could with a mouth stuffed full.

His hips start to roll upwards smoothly, one of his hands still gripping the back of my neck to keep me from pulling away, the other smoothing down my cheek, his thumb running along the sides of my stretched lips.

“You look so pretty sucking Daddy’s cock,” Sehun hummed, smirking when he saw me rub my thighs together, whimpering and trying to sink down further to hide the blush on my cheeks. “You were just made for this, baby.” Squeezing the back of my neck, he guided me off, chuckling when I pouted up at him, my hands sliding further up his thighs, thumbs rubbing lightly at the base of his cock. “Do you want to keep going?”

Biting my lip, I nodded, lifting myself up slightly to peck his lips. “Yes please, Daddy.”

[thinkingoutlouddblog]

Don’t Want to Lose You

Pairing: Harry Styles x reader

Request:  Y/n having really bad cramps with nausea and fever but pushing harry away and saying it's probably nothing. However it goes on for a long time and eventually harry calls an ambo against her wishes but it turns out to be something serious/other than cramps

A/N: I slightly changed the symptoms but the idea is still the same. Also, there are medical inaccuracies but how much do you really care?

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet!” your boyfriend Harry yelled in surprise as you walked into your shared apartment.

Despite the stabbing pain in your side, a grin spread across your face at the sight before you. Harry was in the middle of the kitchen, a spoon covered in bolognese sauce in one hand and an apron tied on over his clothes. When you took a step closer to the kitchen, you saw the mess he had made around the stove where the pasta sauce was simmering.

“I wanted to surprise yeh,” his shoulders slumped. “I was going to have a really nice dinner set up and have all this mess cleaned up,” he mumbled.

“You did surprise me! I’m sure it’s going to be amazing,” you took another step towards him and wrapped your arms around him, your nausea almost was forgotten for the moment.

“I just knew how stressed you’ve been with work lately and with my tour starting, I’m not going to be around much for ages. I just wanted to do something special for you,” he mumbled into your hair as he held you tight.

You felt a pang in your chest at the expression in his voice. Harry had so much going on all the time, you didn’t want him to be worrying about you. Especially when he was away on tour. He always tended to stress over whether or not you were okay when he was away from you, to the point where it would take a toll on him.

“Well, thank you but I don’t want you to stress over me. Not this time, okay? I’m okay, I always have been. And if anything happens while you’re on tour, you’ll be the first person I call,” you give him a smile to try and cover your lie. If you let him know that one thing is wrong with you, he will never stop thinking that you’re not okay. You don’t want him to be stressing over you when he’s supposed to be having the time of his life on tour.

“Okay, I won’t freak out this time,” he gives your hand a squeeze. “Why are you home from work early anyway?” his brow furrowed.

“Oh, I just felt a bit sick but I’m sure it’s nothing,” you give him your best reassuring smile, not wanting to make him start worrying all over again.

“Sick how?” he held you at arm's length so he could look you over for any signs of unwellness.

“It was just some cramps and nausea, but it’s not as bad now,” you lied yet again. The smell of the sauce cooking behind you made you feel sick to your stomach, you felt as though someone was smashing you in the head with a hammer and you wouldn’t be surprised to look down and find a knife in your right side, your cramps were that bad.

“Are you sure? You don’t look too great,” he placed a hand on your forehead but you shrugged it off.

“Gee thanks, Styles,” you joked.

“You know what I mean,” he replied, not appreciating your attempt at humour.

“Babe, it’s fine. I’ll just go have a quick lie down and when I get up again for dinner, I’m sure I’ll be fine. And, that way you can still set up dinner like you wanted to.”

He contemplated your offer for a moment before sighing. “Fine. But be prepared for my spaghetti bolognese to knock your socks off,” he grinned at you.

You gave him a quick peck on the lips before turning around and making for your bed. You held your hand over the spot in your side where your cramps were sharpest as you climbed into bed, wearing one of Harry’s shirts as pyjamas.

You winced as the pain became nothing but sharper. You tossed and turned for a few minutes before finding a position that caused you the least pain. You were just starting to drift off to sleep when you noticed yourself shivering under the sheets.

“Harry,” you called without moving. A moment later Harry was in your room. “What is it, love? Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

“I’m fine, can you please just get me some panadol? I just have a headache is all,” you turned your head from your place in bed to look at him in the doorway. You instantly regretted saying anything as you saw those emerald eyes you adored fill with worry. “Sure thing love.”

A minute later he returned with a couple of tablets and a glass of water. You sat up in bed, trying not to make it obvious how much pain it was causing you to do so. You took the water and the painkillers with a soft thank you. “Love, don’t worry about dinner tonight. You just stay in bed and I’ll put the food away for another night,” he spoke as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Haz, don’t. It’s nothing, it’s just a-” you stopped short as you covered your mouth with your hand. You quickly threw the covers off and ran to the bathroom, Harry following as you went. You fell to your knees in front of the toilet before emptying the contents of your stomach into the toilet bowl.

Tears leaked from your eyes as a cold sweat broke out across your forehead. As your vomiting finally stopped, you sunk all the way to the floor, the cold tiles of the bathroom floor stinging your cheek.

“It’s nothing, eh?” Harry said, his face dead serious as he stroked your cheek. “I think you’ve got a fever as well, you’re absolutely burning up.” Tears continued flowing out of your eyes as he spoke. You hated this. This wasn’t what was supposed to be happening. You were supposed to be making the most of the time you had left with Harry before he went on tour. Not lying on your bathroom floor, crying in pain and making Harry worry.

“You stay here, I’m going to go get you a glass of water and call a doctor,” he said as he began to stand up from the bathroom floor.

“Harry, don’t. I’m sure this is just a 24-hour bug, you’re overreacting. It’s just a tummy bug,” you croaked from your position on the floor. “Are you sure? You seem really sick, love,” Harry’s forehead creased, showing his concern for you all over his face.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, as you wiped some of your tears away.

“Okay, let me just go get you some water.”

Despite your attempts to wipe them away, the tears just kept on coming as the pain in your right side became sharper and sharper. You stayed incredibly still, scared that any sudden movements would just make it worse. Even though you had no control over this, you couldn’t help being angry with yourself over this. The last thing Harry needed before you left for his tour was for you to be sick like this.

Just as Harry walked back in with a glass of water, the urge to throw up hit you all over again and you sat up as fast as you could so you could aim for the toilet bowl. “Oh, love,” he sighed as he quickly went to crouch behind you and rub your back. However, a moment later his hand went completely still as his blood went cold. “Y/N, I’m taking you to a hospital right now.”

“What, why?” you managed to say between vomiting.

His hand shook as he dialled the number of a doctor. “There’s blood,” his voice trembled as he stared at the contents of the toilet bowl.

Harry was rocked to his core at the sight of you hunched over the toilet bowl, sobbing in pain. He hated that you were hurting and he hated even more that you had tried so hard to hide it and act like it was nothing. But he couldn’t think about that now. Right now, he needed to focus on what the on-call nurse was telling him to do.

He got you the largest bucket he could find, a towel and a bottle of water before grabbing his car keys and wallet. When he returned to the bathroom, you were lying on the floor, sobs wracking your body.

He quietly shushed you and rubbed your shoulder comfortingly. “I’m so sorry, Harry,” you cried.

“Hey, you have nothing to apologise for, okay?” You nodded silently, but your crying continued. “Now I’m going to pick you up really carefully and carry you down to the car, okay? And you’re going to hold onto this bucket in case you need it, alright beautiful?” You nodded again.

He kissed your damp forehead as he lifted you up from the bathroom floor and you quickly grabbed the bucket from the bathroom sink. You were completely delirious by the time Harry set you down in the car, as you continued to mumble apologies over and over again in the car. He tried to tell you to stop apologising but you just kept repeating ��I’m sorry’ mindlessly.

You only stopped when you were a few minutes away from the hospital to vomit into the bucket uncontrollably. “Make it stop,” you sobbed to Harry. “Please, please, just make it stop,” Harry winced as you continued to repeat yourself.

“I wish I could, but the doctors will make it better soon. I promise,” he tried to keep his eyes on the road as he drove like a madman.

The car had barely stopped when Harry opened his door and ran to your side of the car. He ripped your door open and lifted you into his arms once more before taking off at a sprint into the hospital. At this point, you thought your right side was just about to split open of its own accord.

“My girlfriend needs a doctor, right now. I called ahead,” Harry called to the receptionist as he ran towards her desk. Within moments, a nurse and doctor had arrived with a gurney. As gently as possible, Harry set you down.

“Symptoms?” the doctor asked, already inspecting you.

“Uh, fever, throwing up, blood in her vomit. I think she said she had cramps during the day but she didn’t say too much about how she was feeling, it just got really bad really fast,” Harry tried to speak as quickly as possible, desperate for the doctor to find out what was wrong with you as soon as possible and just make it stop.

“What’s her name?” the doctor asked.

“Y/N, Y/N Y/LN.” Though Harry was talking to the doctor, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from your face. The pain was so overwhelming now, you weren’t even trying to mask your anguish any longer.

“Y/N, where does it hurt most?” the doctor spoke to you for the first time.

“My right side. It feels like someone is stabbing me,” your voice was thick as you spoke.

“Most likely her appendix,” he spoke to Harry and the nurse as though you weren’t there. “I’ll go give her a specific diagnosis and then we’ll take action.” That was all the detail he gave Harry before attempting to wheel you away, but you quickly grabbed Harry’s arm. “Harry, please,” you sobbed.

The doctor gave Harry a warning look. Harry knew if he kicked up a stink about wanting to go with you he would not only be wasting precious time but he could also be thrown out of the hospital. He put his other hand over yours. “Don’t you worry, okay love? I’m not going to leave this hospital until you do. I’ll be right here and this nice doctor is going to go fix you up,” he reassured you.

You nodded your head at his words and managed to give him a small smile. “I love you,” he called after you as the doctor wheeled you away. “I love you too,” you whispered, unable to speak at a higher volume.

He stayed true to his word, not daring to leave even the room for hours. It wasn’t until Gemma, not only Harry’s sister but also your best friend, arrived that he was given any information on your condition.

“How is she?” Gemma had asked Harry as she hugged him.

“I don’t know, no one’s told me anything since I brought her here,” he projected his voice more than necessary, hoping to get one of the nurse’s attention. Right at that moment, a nurse spoke up from behind him. “Are you here for Y/N Y/L/N?” the nurse inquired.

“Yes that’s us,” Harry stepped forward eagerly.

“She had a pretty bad case of appendicitis, but luckily she got here before her appendix burst. The appendectomy went well and she should make a full recovery but we still want to keep her here overnight. She just has to take it easy for the next four to six weeks,” the nurse gave the pair a tired smile as he spoke.

“When I can I see her?” Harry asked persistently.

“Maybe in 20 minutes or so. She’s in room 202.”

“Thank you so much,” Harry said. The nurse gave him one last smile before leaving for his next task or next patient.

Gemma and Harry stood there for a moment in silence before Harry broke the silence. “I have to postpone the tour,” his gaze was fixed on the floor, his eyes unseeing.

“What?” Gemma asked in shock.

“You heard him. Four to six weeks. The tour starts in a week and a half, I can’t just leave her here alone. She needs me,” he snapped. He ran his hand through his hair and sat back down on the horribly uncomfortable hospital chair.

“Harry, don’t be such an idiot. She will never forgive you if you postpone this tour because of her,” Gemma sat down in the chair next to him. “You’ll be here to help her get through the worst of this. After that, she’ll just need to be relaxing and taking it easy. You don’t have to be here for her to do that. I’ll be here to make sure she’s taking care of herself and getting better. I’ll stay in the apartment with her if I have to. She won’t be alone, Harry. You don’t have to worry so much about her.”

“I don’t know, Gem. It’s just-” he paused, trying to collect his thoughts. “What if this had happened while I was on tour? How would she have gotten to the hospital? Who would have taken care of her?”

“She would’ve called an ambulance, Harry. You know, everything you do for her is amazing and you both really take care of each other when you’re together. But she still knows how to take care of herself when you aren’t there. And if she ever needs anything she has friends and family that love her so much they would drop everything for that girl. You. Don’t. Have. To. Worry.” She drew the sentence out to emphasise her point.

“You’re right,” he spoke softly.

“God, there’s two words I never hear come out of your mouth,” Gemma joked, earning a smile from Harry. He shook his head as he stood from his seat. “I’m going to go grab a tea and go see Y/N. Can you please do me a favour and call her family to tell them she’s going to be okay?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied, already grabbing her phone from her back pocket.

Five minutes later he was sitting in the chair next to your hospital bed, blowing on his tea as he watched you sleep. He was so happy to see you looking so peaceful and calm after seeing you in so much pain just hours earlier.

He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your forehead. Suddenly, you scrunched your eyes up, the sudden movement causing Harry to pull his hand back. Slowly, your eyes fluttered open. You took a second to adjust to the harsh bright light of the room before you started to take in your surroundings. It wasn’t long before your gaze was fixed on your favourite set of green eyes.

“Hi,” you whispered with a smile.

“Hi,” he whispered back, returning your smile. “You really gave me a scare there,” he still spoke softly, but his tone had suddenly turned serious.

“I’m really sorry, Haz. The last thing I wanted was for you to have to worry about me so much, especially so close to the tour,” you fretted.

“Clearly, because you let me believe you were okay and then you ended up in the hospital,” you could hear the hurt in his voice clear as day.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, throat raw from being sick.

“It’s okay, love. It’s just, it’s my job to worry about you, ya know? I’m never going to not worry about you. But I know I always get too worried and too worked up when I’m away, and I’m going to really work on that, I promise. You’re a big girl and I should trust that you’re able to look after yourself,” you gave his hand a squeeze. “But, if there’s really something wrong like there was tonight, you can’t just pretend like there isn’t because you don’t want me to worry. You have to tell me. If you don’t, it’ll only get worse and I’ll only worry a hundred times more like I did tonight. I don’t want to lose you because of something like this. If I know with absolute certainty you’ll always let me know when something is wrong, I’ll never have to stress as much.”

“I promise I’ll always let you know when something’s up,” you said, and this time, you meant it. “As long as you promise you really will try not to get so worried about me. I want you to be out there having the time of your life around the world. You can’t do that if you’re always stressing about whether or not I’m okay,” you peered into his eyes, gauging his reaction.

“I promise,” he whispered.

“Now can you please hurry up and get into this bed? I need cuddles.”

When Gemma walked into your hospital room with a tea of her own, the two of you were snuggled into the hospital bed, noses lightly touching as you lied facing each other. You were both fast asleep, your breaths mingling and legs intertwined.

my masterlist // send me a request!

[darksiders-scenarios]

Good day to you. ^w^ Let's try something a bit different...The Horsemen are as tough as they come, practically carrying the fate of WORLDS on their shoulders. So, how about a comforting gesture from their S/O? A hug, a kiss, heck even a little pampering? A kind gesture can make a bad day just melt away, after all.

War

He was slumped on the edge of your bed. Stepping onto the cold tiles, you offered War a sympathetic smile and remarked concernedly that his soft teal eyes were bleary and his lids were almost closed.

“War?” you started softly, touching his cheek lightly with your fingertips. The light pressure caused his eyelids to elevate slightly before dropping again. “What happened, bud?” your thumb rubbed the skin beneath his eye, watching his frown lines soften slightly. Other than that, he said nothing and you didn’t pry. 

You withdrew your hands and climbed onto your bed behind him. War didn’t react nor did he look over his shoulder at you. Carefully, you drew his hood from his head, revealing the fine, platinum hair that tumbled around his shoulders. Gently, you rested your fingertips onto the sides of his head and with soft strokes, you began to rub his scalp. At once, you heard War release a low rumbling sigh and his head slumped down as you worked your fingers to the front of his head. This continued for another three rounds before you started smoothing his strands, listening to his breathing slow down. You then wrapped your arms around his neck and pressed your lips to his scalp. 

A few moments passed before you felt your eyelids grow heavy. As you were about to lean back to readjust your position, War turned around and wrapped a brawny arm around your waist, gently sweeping you towards the edge of your bed until you were next to him. He then reclined until his back laid on your bed and he brought you to him. You raised your head from his chest and met his soft gaze; the scowl has melted into something more serene. Smiling, you inched forward until you rested your cheek upon his taut neck. His normal hand settled on your back and his thumb gently rubbed circles on your back. “Feel better?” you murmured. He simply chuckled, his rumble travelling through your chest, making your skin prickle pleasantly.

Death

The rain was falling thickly and you heard the long low rumbles of thunder. The wind was swirling and gusting and in the middle of the grassy meadow, Death sat alone, hunched over on the wet ground with his arms over his bent knees. His dark hair was matted and his cloth trousers were damp.

You pulled the hood over your head before sauntering onto the rain-soaked ground. Standing in front of him, his amber eyes rose to meet yours. They were dull, sad and reminiscent. It made your heart clench. Crouching, you pulled a fleece blanket from your rucksack and with a swift pull, you swung it around him. Inching to him, Death leant back slightly, allowing you to bring yourself closer to him and you lightly rubbed your palms down his cheeks, a poor attempt at pouring warmth into him. His skin was as icy as cold steel. His eyes closed and he leant into your hands. Wrapped inside the blanket, you rested your head on his shoulder, your hair brushing his jawline and you felt his solid arm snake around your back, pressing you more firmly into him.

“You should go back inside,” he said softly.

“Come with me,” you replied, drawing back to look at his masked visage. 

Huffing at you in mock annoyance, Death unwrapped the damp cowl from his neck. Before you were able to ask anything, you felt the soft fabric being wound around your neck. “If anything happens to you, you are solely to blame for it,” he said gruffly, but a trace of amusement glinted in his eyes.

Fury

The last vestiges of sunset have dipped over the horizon. You found a comfortable spot on a river bank. Fury sat beside you on the soft grass. You drew closer to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, your fingertips tracing around an ugly wound on her skin. “Is it painful?” you asked. “As painful as a prick on the finger,” she smiled at you. You grimaced at that. The purple welt looked raw and most certainly not painless.

You tore a piece of cloth from your shirt and dipped it in the clear water. Wringing it from the excess moisture, you turned to the she-horseman who was gazing at you meditatively. Gently, you wiped the affected area with tender care, watching the skin crusts falling off. “Sweet one, you know I can heal myself,” Fury reminded gently. “I know,” you nodded, drenching the cloth into the river to wash it from the grime. As you continued to clean the wound, Fury brought her hand onto your head, ruffling your hair softly. “Silly child,” she teased, tweaking your earlobe lightly. “I know,” you repeated, looking up and winking at her playfully. “That’s why you love me.”

Strife

He was quiet. No witty comments. No comebacks. No embarrassing stunts.

It felt wrong. But you supposed even the crassest beings can have their down days too.

You stepped onto your bed and Strife rolled over to look at you. “Now here’s a sight for sore eyes,” he joked but his eyes were listless. Now that was concerning. “Strife,” you crouched beside him, laying your elbow on his forearm. “What’s up, bud?” He huffed and he ran his hand along your arm. “Council, that’s what,” he stated gruffly. You waited for him to elaborate and when he didn’t, you sighed before swinging your legs off the bed, earning you a not-so-manly whine. “Want some hot choco?” you asked casually, smirking when you heard the mattress shift aggressively. “Do I?” Strife practically yelled. The floors creaked loudly as he followed you.

“I could get used to this,” Strife grinned, reaching out to ruffle your hair affectionately and laughing when you snorted. “Keep it up and I’m gonna make you recite some tongue twisters.” His mouth audibly snapped shut.

[azvolrien]

The Hawk Steppes - Chapter Eight

You get a twofer today - this one (which is a bit longer than the rest; I couldn’t find a good spot to break it up) and a short epilogue. Let’s ring out 2017 in style.

~~~

           Sunset brought a change of guard. The new Charek warrior bumped knuckles with the previous guard and sat down on a stool by one of the roof supports with his spear across his knees, watching the prisoners closely.

           “This guy looks much more alert than the last guard,” said Calburn, almost under his breath. “We might’ve slipped away once she’d fallen asleep. I don’t think this one’s going to.”

           “I can fix that,” said Rhona. “But we should wait until it’s full dark. You still remember your unlocking spells, right?” Calburn just gave her an offended look. “What am I saying, of course you do.”

           “Stop that muttering,” said the guard, rattling the blade of his spear against the cage bars. “Or I’ll shut you up myself.”

           Calburn’s expression suggested he had thought of several smart replies, but he refrained from voicing any of them as the last glow faded from the sky and the campfires were lit. The guard got up to light the small glass lantern above his head, keeping one eye on his prisoners, and sat down again. Another man brought him a steaming bowl of something, chatted for a few minutes, and went back to his tent.

           Rhona palmed a loose stone from the cage floor and flicked it at Roxy, who glared at her. Rhona held eye contact for a few moments, then jerked her head towards the lantern as subtly as she could. Roxy’s only reply was a small shrug of confusion.

           Snuff it out, mouthed Rhona. Roxy’s eyes widened slightly and a small smile, barely visible in the flickering shadows, appeared on her face. She grasped the cage bars and closed her eyes, searching for the energy of the tiny flame.

           As she snatched away its heat, it went out as quickly as if she had walked over and blown it out. The guard frowned and stood up to look at it.

           “My turn,” whispered Rhona, and reached out with her own powers, trembling with concentration. The guard yawned widely and rubbed one hand across his eyes, then sat back down. Rhona gritted her teeth, furrowing her brow, and the man finally slumped down where he sat, sound asleep and barely noticeable without the lantern above him.

           Calburn rocked forwards onto his knees and planted one hand flat against the cage lock. It clicked open immediately.

           “That was a neat trick,” said Athi once both she and Roxy were out of their own cages and all four of them had fled to the shadows behind a tent some distance from the stockade. “So that’s what a sleep spell looks like?”

           “More or less,” said Rhona. “They’re difficult to do right. Exert too much pressure and you risk dealing serious damage to the target’s brain.”

           “And that would bother us right now because…?” said Roxy. Calburn gave her a hard look. “Fine, never mind.”

           “You’ve been here the longest,” said Rhona, turning to Athi after a moment’s hesitation. “Where would they have put our weapons?”

           “There’s an armoury tent out near the forges,” said Athi. “I saw it when they made me take Longstride around the perimeter.”

           “We can’t leave Longstride with them either,” said Calburn. “My guess is they plan to use her like a war elephant? Sort of a battering ram and archer platform mixed together.” Athi nodded. “So unimaginative. They’d be better off using her to haul supplies if they want to turn this little warband into a proper army. An iron ox is a hybrid construct,” he added to Rhona and Roxy, “but it terms of how it relates to its riders, it’s more like a built one than a grown one. They can’t be made to obey a single commander, like Vrand and Mossy only listen to me. Athi’s the only person here who knows how to control Longstride, but she’s not the only person who can. If one of this lot,” he waved a hand to indicate the entire Charek camp, “works out how it’s done, rescuing Athi won’t put much of a crimp in their plans.”

           “He’s right,” said Athi. “They only have the one, but one’s still enough to do some damage before the Legions come down on them. We either need to take Longstride with us or…” Her breath caught in her throat. “Destroy her.”

           “Yeah, I’ve seen the iron ox,” said Roxy. “I don’t think any of us has the oomph to destroy her.”

           “Or at least, not so badly that they can’t work out how to fix her,” said Calburn.

           “So we take Longstride,” said Rhona. “We grab our weapons if we can.”

           “And we high-tail it out of here,” finished Athi. “Don’t suppose either of you know any invisibility spells?”

           “I don’t think those really exist,” said Calburn. “C’mon, you’re going to have to guide the rest of us here.”

           Athi nodded. “Longstride first,” she said. “This way.”

           The path from the stockade to the canvas-covered iron ox was slow and winding. The main thoroughfares through the camp were reasonably well-lit by lanterns and torches fixed to supports at even intervals, with few points where a fugitive could safely hide. Instead Athi led them through the dark, narrow spaces between and behind the tents, pausing in the deepest shadows whenever a Charek patrol – or just a wandering drunk – came too close. A couple of times, Roxy had to repeat her trick with the lantern to provide the shadows.

           Finally, there was only one stretch of open space to cross to where Longstride waited.

           “There are too many people,” said Roxy as all four of them crouched behind a grubby tent. The camp’s command tent was busy; all four walls had been tied back, leaving a canvas roof to shelter Jaran and his lieutenants as they pored over a sand table, and other warriors came and went constantly.  Vrand’s pebble rested on the table beside Jaran.

           “Wait here,” continued Roxy. “I’ll make a diversion for us.” With that, she slipped back the way they had come. Minutes later, a tent near the earthworks behind them went up in flames. “There,” said Roxy, rejoining the others as Jaran and the rest of the Charek abandoned the command tent and ran towards the fire. “Diversion.”

           “Your control of fire’s improved,” said Rhona as they dashed out towards Longstride. “Have you been practising without us?”

           “I didn’t do that with magic,” said Roxy, jogging alongside her. “I just lobbed a torch at it.”

           “Oh.”

           Athi ducked under the canvas and climbed up to the cabin on Longstride’s back. “Everyone up!” she hissed without removing the canvas. “And clip on!” she added, handing everyone a safety line once they had all joined her. Calburn took a moment to grab Vrand’s stone and shove it into one of his many pockets. “We’ll stop at the armoury to try and get your weapons, but once she gets going, she’s going to go fast.” She knelt behind Longstride’s head and bent to attend to something, muttering under her breath.

           “Can’t we use Vrand?” asked Roxy. “Or will he still be damaged when he comes out of the pebble?”

           “No, he’ll have healed,” said Calburn, attaching the safety line to the flying harness he still wore. “But he takes too long to materialise, and I think the Charek might notice a giant glowing dragon-thing-shape suddenly appearing in their camp.”

           “All right,” said Athi, getting back onto her feet. “She’s active. Shift the sheet so we can see where we’re going.” As Calburn and Rhona lifted the canvas away from Longstride’s head, Athi cracked her knuckles and grasped two moulded steel handles jutting up from the cabin’s front handrail. Tiny witchlights began to flicker all along the rail, matched by similar lights appearing on the backs of Longstride’s horns, and the iron ox took one ponderous step forwards.

           “How does this work?” asked Roxy, fascinated, as Longstride steadily picked up speed.

           “I’ll explain it to you some time when we’re not running for our lives,” promised Calburn.

           “Armoury’s this way,” said Athi above the thunder of Longstride’s footfalls. The construct slowed to skid around a corner, her claws leaving deep ruts in the earth underfoot, and sped up again towards the smoke of the camp’s forges. A young man hurled himself out of her path and picked himself up to blow several quick blasts on a horn.

           “Here! Grab your stuff and get back up here!” Athi tightened her grip on the handles; Longstride came to a halt beside one tent so quickly that both Rhona and Roxy lost their balance; Calburn, holding on to the handrail, remained standing and unclipped his line to let him scramble down to the tent. Moments later, he emerged with his sword, Rhona’s polearm, and Roxy’s bow and quiver in his arms, passed them up one by one, and climbed back up.

           “Tie those down or something,” said Athi. “If they fall, we’re not going back for them.”

           Calburn nodded and tied his scabbard across his back; Rhona did the same with the haft of her polearm. Roxy clipped her quiver to her belt and strung her bow so she could tuck her shoulder through it. Athi nodded. Longstride began to move again. The palisade atop the earthworks ahead of them drew rapidly closer, but Longstride neither slowed nor stopped, instead lowering her horned metal skull and bulldozing right through the log wall in a shower of splinters.

           Their exit did not go unnoticed.

           “Athi, we’ve got company,” said Calburn, thumping her on the shoulder and pointing behind them, where the flames from Roxy’s diversion had been extinguished and several mounted figures appeared at the broken palisade.

           “Yep, not unexpected,” she replied, hunching low over the rail just as an arrow bounced off the cabin roof. “Horses can’t match an iron ox at full speed. Now you’ll see exactly what Longstride can do.”

           The iron ox’s gait shifted up from a swift walk until she was barrelling along at a full gallop, more like a rampaging karkadann than a horse. Hooves drummed against the earth behind them as the Charek gave chase, but they were soon drowned out by the blasting wind of Longstride’s passage. The camp’s lights faded into the distance and were soon several miles behind.

           “Don’t celebrate just yet!” warned Athi as Roxy gave a whoop of triumph. “We still need to-”

           A strange vibration rumbled through the air, something entirely different to Longstride’s footsteps, and metal screamed under stress as the construct listed wildly to one side and crashed to the ground. Her passengers cut the safety lines and hurled themselves free of the wreckage, just in time to see one of the construct’s clawed forelegs – neatly sliced through at the elbow – fall from the sky with a deafening clatter.

           “Oh, gods,” said Calburn as the air shook again, more strongly than before, and a portal ripped open behind them to release more angry Charek riders than they could easily count. “They do have a Portallist.”

           “Leave her!” said Rhona, grabbing Athi’s arm as she stared blankly at Longstride’s severed foreleg. “Cal, there’s no time to fix it – we’ll have to use Mossy and Tyren.”

           Calburn nodded and yanked Mostol’s summoning stone from around his neck. “Come on, come on… Right! Mount up! Let’s go!”

           Tyren, smaller and lighter by far, could only carry a single rider; Roxy and Athi had to cling to Mostol’s packsaddle as the two constructs began to gallop.

           “If we can keep ahead, we have a chance,” Rhona shouted. “These two aren’t much faster than a horse, but they can keep going for longer.” Athi nodded weakly, still staring back at the remains of Longstride, and wound her arms through the straps of the packsaddle. Roxy, instead, hooked her legs into the harness and readied an arrow.

           Calburn unhooked the marble pouch from his belt. “This’ll buy us some time!”

           “Marbles?!” yelled Rhona. “What, you’re going to try and trip them?”        

           Calburn didn’t answer; instead he loosened the drawstring with his teeth and flung the pouch over his shoulder, scattering two dozen solid granite marbles across the dark ground behind them, then stuck finger and thumb in his mouth and gave a long, rising whistle. Lights flashed amongst the long grass; within moments, two dozen wolf-like constructs solidified, leapt to their feet, and sprinted back towards the pursuing Charek. The squeals of terrified horses echoed through the night. When the wolf constructs caught up once more, their teeth were stained with blood.

           Rhona stared at them.

           Calburn noticed. “You seriously thought I carried those marbles around for sentimental reasons?” he asked without slowing Mostol. “I have to keep a few tricks up my sleeve!”

           “You are bonkers,” said Athi. Roxy nodded her agreement, but her broad grin suggested that she did not disapprove.

           The air shook as another portal opened, this time off to their right; half of the pursuing Charek rode through and circled around, trying to herd their prey back towards the others.

           “Roxy, try and spot their Portallist,” shouted Rhona, banishing all thoughts of Calburn’s sudden wolf pack. “We’ll never shake them if they can jump ahead like that!”

           Roxy nodded and knelt up on Mostol’s back, still steadying herself with the harness straps. Her eyes narrowed in thought; without a word, she nocked an arrow, drew back the string, and loosed.

           One man, riding pillion with another Charek, toppled from his horse. The portal vanished immediately.

           “We can talk about where they found a Portallist later,” shouted Rhona when Calburn thoughtfully opened his mouth. “Escape now, ponder later! Oh, no.”

           The flanking riders had overtaken them. Calburn hauled on Mostol’s reins so hard that the construct let out a roar, but he turned on his back legs nonetheless and galloped away between the two groups. The Charek rejoined behind them, much closer than before. One rider hurled a javelin, narrowly missing the end of Tyren’s tail. Others stood up in their stirrups, readying ropes and arrows.

           Roxy hung her bow across her chest and looked around frantically. A fierce golden light flared in her eyes as she swung one arm wildly out; fire roared into life behind Mostol, catching the dry grass in a long dividing line between the Charek and their targets. Horses whinnied in fear, shying away from the flames; Charek swore and shouted as they tried to control their mounts. Roxy swayed where she knelt, but Athi grabbed her tunic before she could lose her balance altogether. The gap widened once more.

           “Well done!” shouted Calburn. “How’d you do that?”

           “Not sure,” said Roxy. “Energy of the wind, I think.”

           “Nice one! Let’s just hope that doesn’t spread too far…”

           The Charek had similar thoughts: while most rode around to continue the chase, a few dismounted to try and beat the flames out. It did not diminish their numbers by much. Jaran rode at their head, his sabre unsheathed in one hand and most of his warriors close behind. The tiring horses struggled to catch up to the constructs and more and more fell back as Calburn’s wolf pack ran to harry them, but soon arrows began to fly. One thudded into Mostol’s rump, but he kept running without even seeming to notice. A second struck deep into Tyren’s ankle; she let out a shrieking roar and fell, sending Rhona flying from her back. Tyren vanished in a flash of light, leaving only the stone clutched in Rhona’s hand.

           Calburn dug his heels into Mostol’s flanks, turning the construct, grabbed Rhona’s wrist, and swung her up behind him. Laden with four people, even Mostol began to struggle. The gap gradually narrowed once again.

           “Come on, Mossy, keep at it,” urged Calburn. “We can do this, just keep going!”

           Slowly, the first dim light of dawn appeared in the east. Roxy cocked her head and turned to look, just as a sliver of sun rose above the horizon. As Mostol groaned under the weight, Roxy clenched her jaw, knelt up once again, and stretched her left hand out towards the rising sun. The right, she pointed palm-first towards the Charek.

           It began as a strange, faint glow on her left hand, shining within the veins, and swiftly travelled up her arm, growing more intense as it went. The glow reappeared in her eyes, brighter and more frightening than before.

           “Roxy, no!” Too late, Rhona grabbed at her shoulder. Light lanced down Roxy’s right arm and erupted from the palm of her hand in a blinding, searing torrent. Her mouth gaped in a soundless scream, revealing the same glow in the pit of her throat.

           When the light finally faded, a blackened furrow as wide as Mostol was long and half as deep had been carved through the heart of the Charek warband. Jaran had survived, still astride his big roan, but even he could only stare in shock as half of what had once been a horse and its rider – now charred into ash – toppled into the pit.

           Roxy’s eyes rolled back in her head, no longer glowing. Wisps of smoke curled up from her right hand, the palm reddened and blistering, and she collapsed where she sat. Rhona and Athi caught her before she fell.

           “Make for that outcrop,” said Athi, pointing towards a raised spur of rock jutting up from the Steppes a mile or two ahead. “I don’t think we can outrun them much longer, but gods willing those wolves of yours can help hold them off.”

           One side of the rock was a steep slope that even Mostol’s broad three-toed hooves were hard-pressed to climb, while the other three were sheer crags. It was barely twenty feet high at its tallest point, but compared to the open plains it was practically a fortress. The wolf constructs took up a guard position at the ‘gate’ as Mostol’s passengers dismounted at the top.

           Frowning, Rhona pressed two fingers to Roxy’s wrist.

           “Is she all right?” asked Calburn, unsheathing his sword.

           “Power exhaustion,” said Rhona. She adjusted her grip on Roxy’s arm and began to heal the burn on her hand. “She’ll be fine if she can sleep it off.” She looked up at the approaching Charek and added, “Assuming we aren’t all killed in the next five minutes. Can you bring Vrand out now?”

           “I don’t think I have time,” said Calburn sadly. “The wolves should keep them at bay down there.”

           “They have bows,” said Athi. “Can you two do shields at all?”

           “Not reliably,” said Rhona. “And not against arrows.”

           “Hunker down behind Mossy,” said Calburn. “He’s got thick skin – he can take a few arrows.”

           Roxy’s blast had scattered the warband in all directions, but a few yells and gestures from Jaran soon gathered the shaken survivors. Although the horses were reluctant to get any closer to the wolf constructs, before long the rock was completely surrounded.

           “How long do you think you can hold out up there?” asked Jaran, leaning on his saddle horn as the other Charek passed around a flask, each taking a small sip. “There’s four of you, and still more than a hundred of us even after your young witch’s little trick.”

           “What’s the wait, then?” asked Calburn, peering over Mostol’s back. “Scared to take us on without your birds to soften us up?”

           Jaran laughed. “We can catch more thuru. In time we can find another portal-maker. With planning it won’t be hard to get another iron ox. But I can’t really afford to let scouts bring word of us to the man calling himself the Great Khan.”

           “What’s this all about?” asked Athi.

           Jaran smiled and rested the blunt edge of his sabre against his shoulder. “What it’s always about,” he said with a little shrug. “Wealth and power. We draw out the Great Khan, and suddenly not just the Steppes, but the whole Empire is under Charek control.” He lifted the sabre to point at them. “Under my control. This new Khan is weak. We can take him easily.”

           “He’s completely delusional,” said Rhona.

           “Agreed, but that doesn’t help us much right now,” Athi told her.

           “So what’s the bloody holdup?” yelled Calburn.

           “Simple,” said Jaran as Charek warriors began to throw their heads back with unearthly screams, lashing the air with swords and spears. “Had to wait for the bearskin to take effect.”

           As one, shrieking as much as the thuru had, the drugged warriors threw themselves from their horses and charged. The wolf constructs closed in at the foot of the slope, snapping at ankles and wrists, here and there bearing a warrior to the ground to tear at their throats, but they could not stop them all. More and more slipped through the gaps in the wolves’ line to scramble up the slope or scale the sides of the little crag. Rhona jabbed down at clutching hands with her polearm, until one climbing berserker simply grabbed the weapon by its curving blade, ignoring the edge as it sliced into his fingers, and yanked it from her hands with a froth-at-the-mouth yowl. Heedless of the blood now oozing from his hands, the man – a full head taller than Rhona and broader than Calburn – heaved himself up onto the top of the crag and dragged a short sword from his belt.

           Calburn turned at Athi’s shout, lifting his own sword, but a coiling lasso wrapped twice around his hand and dragged backwards, slamming him roughly against the makeshift parapet of Mostol. The sword fell from his hands to clatter on the rock underfoot.

           The big man jabbed out with the short sword, aiming for Rhona’s heart; with a final, desperate cry, she lurched forwards, planted both hands flat against his boiled-leather breastplate, reached in with her powers, and pulled. The man stopped dead, motionless but for the occasional twitch. Each breath rasped and bubbled in his throat; blood spattered from his mouth and nose with each heave of his chest. His face paled, vessels standing out on each side of his neck, and the whites of his eyes turned red. Slowly, he toppled backwards off the crag, dragging screaming Charek with him as his nerveless body plummeted to the ground.

           Rhona slumped to her knees, staring at her hands. Calburn scrabbled at the taut ropes around his arm, trying to free himself. Athi swallowed hard and picked up the big Charek’s fallen sword, standing over Roxy’s motionless body.

           A flash of movement in the sky; a tiny shadow flickering over the churned-up grass. One of the Charek raised her spear and stabbed upwards at the little winged construct circling overhead, missing every time as the crystal bound to its harness glittered.  

           The air vibrated, drumming against their ears more loudly and for longer than before, and three wide portals tore open to the sound of hooves. Horses, dozens of them, poured through the gateways – riders of Yaigan, Mojor, Safrin and every other tribe of the Hawk Steppes lifted spears, swords and bows and screamed their war cries, cutting down Charek like scything wheat. Some, the less berserk, dropped their weapons and lifted their hands in surrender, but Jaran grabbed the nearest bearskin flask and lifted it to his mouth.

           The point of a sabre skewered the flask and dragged it from his hands. Ernak scowled at him, tossed the flask to the ground, and trampled it beneath his horse’s hooves.

           One last group walked through the central portal before it closed behind them. Zar folded his arms and surveyed the battlefield, his thuru cloak shed in favour of full Legion armour – more decorated than that of a normal soldier, part of the helmet mimicking the Imperial crown, but still entirely functional. The Paladins surrounded him, shields and javelins at the ready.

           Zar lifted one hand and pointed directly at Jaran. “Bring him to me.”

           A few normal legionaries with Lagara insignias took their place as the Paladins formed up and surged forwards. Jaran yelled for bows; Silver barked out one word – “Testudo!” – and the god-soldiers lifted their shields as one. Arrows bounced off the steel bosses or embedded harmlessly in the wood, and the war-pack began to march. No sword, arrow or spearhead broke through their shield-wall, until they broke the formation to drag Jaran from his horse and carry him bodily through the fray to where Zar waited.

           It was quickly over. Those Charek who had surrendered sat under guard, while other riders from Khan’s Kurgan began to pile the corpses in a heap. Ernak climbed up to the crag as Calburn dismissed Mostol and the wolf constructs.

           He made a choked sound at the sight of Roxy on the ground. “She’s not-”

           “She’ll be all right,” said Rhona quietly, still staring at her own hands. “It’s called power exhaustion. It happens sometimes when a mage overdoes it.”

           Ernak sighed in relief. “And the rest of you?”

           “Not badly injured,” said Calburn, rubbing the rope burns on his wrist.

           Athi backed him up with a nod. “How did you know where to find us?”

           Ernak pointed up at the little construct still flying in circles. “It knew where to find you,” he said, “and something about that crystal meant the Portallists could find you.”

           “Yeah, Portallists are big on crystals,” said Calburn. He got stiffly to his feet and lifted one hand. The little messenger fluttered down to land on his arm and vanished into its stone. “The Charek camp is up that way,” he added, pointing back along the trampled trail. “We’re not going back there.”

           Ernak nodded. “The rest of us should be able to find it easily enough now.”

           One by one they traipsed down from the rock, Rhona leaning heavily on Calburn and Ernak carrying Roxy in his arms, and made their way over to Zar.

           Jaran knelt before him, two javelins pressing against his back and two swords crossed against his throat. The rest of the Paladins waited with their own javelins readied.

           Zar reached up, removed his helmet, and passed it to one of the Lagara soldiers. “So,” he said, his voice perfectly steady and completely flat. “You are so-called War-Khan Jaran, the one responsible for stirring up the Charek.”

           Jaran spat on the ground and glared up at him.

           “You are also, therefore, responsible for the attack on Horse Rock, the destruction of the Ironstone Mine headframe, the theft of Iron Ox Longstride and the kidnapping of its drivers, releasing berserk thuru into Khan’s Kurgan, resulting in the deaths of fifty-seven civilians and twelve soldiers of the Sixth Legion and untold amounts of property damage, countless other thefts and murders, and conspiring to murder the Great Khan of the Hawk Steppes and consequently the Emperor of Kiraan.”

           Jaran nodded shortly.

           Zar tapped his fingers against his long sword. “My father would have had you dragged to the Imperial City in chains and publically disembowelled in the Grand Arena,” he said, his voice still without expression. “But I am not my father, and I have no stomach for such cruelty.”

           Jaran snorted. “Weak.”

           Zar’s eyes narrowed very slightly. “Let him stand.”

           The Paladins glanced at each other from behind their visors, but the four pinning Jaran drew back their weapons. Jaran got to his feet, reaching for a sabre he no longer carried.

           With one terrible motion, Zar drew his sword, closed both hands around the hilt, and swung. Three feet of heavy, razor-sharp steel flashed in the dawn light. Jaran’s head bounced once and rolled away as his body collapsed.

           Zar took a cloth from his belt to clean the blood from the blade and walked over to the other Charek prisoners. “Never forget,” he said, a controlled fury creeping into his voice, “that the crown of the Empire is forged of iron. Those who threaten my people will face consequences.” He sheathed the sword and folded his hands behind his back. “The rest of you, I leave to the justice and mercy of the Steppe Tribes. You may discuss their fates amongst yourselves,” he said to Ernak and the rest of the chieftains who had ridden through the portals. “Spare some for questioning.”

           The whole story didn’t take long to come out. Jaran, exiled from a Yaigan band three years before for murder, had risen to lead the outcasts through force of personality; his Portallist, an ex-Mojor with a prodigious self-taught talent, had joined up soon after when he was caught pilfering from the food stores at Jaran’s camp. A contact in the black market had supplied them with a barrel of bearskin elixir, originally smuggled from the Sea Loch Country for use by less scrupulous arena fighters. Gradually a plan to replace the Great Khan with one of their own had taken shape. Satisfied with the information, the allies from Khan’s Kurgan had ridden off to take care of the Charek encampment.

           A few of the Charek escaped before they got there. Most did not. The smoke from the mass pyre billowed high into the air, and did not fade for days on end.

           Calburn, Rhona, Roxy and Athi saw none of it, flying back to Khan’s Kurgan on the fully-healed Vrand. They settled back into Ernak’s encampment with Aysel, the band’s children, and anyone else too old, young or infirm to fight, and waited for the others to return. Aysel tucked Roxy into her sleeping bag and told one of the children to keep an eye on her. After a couple of days, Ernak and the rest of the warriors returned from mopping up, helped on the journey by the Sixth Legion’s portals. A very groggy Roxy emerged from the tent under her own power and wolfed down the plate of bread and cheese Aysel handed her.

           “Did we win?” she asked through a mouthful.  

           Calburn nodded and looked sideways at Rhona, who kept rubbing her hands with a faraway look in her eyes. “Yeah, we won,” he said, and sighed. “You channelled the sun out there, Roxy.”

           Roxy swallowed and grinned. “I did, didn’t I?”

           Calburn smiled. “You did a good job. But that kind of power is dangerous – very dangerous. You were lucky to get out with a bout of power exhaustion. You could’ve burnt yourself out.”

           “You did burn your hand,” said Rhona without looking at Roxy. “And it’s a wonder you didn’t do anything to yourself internally.”

           “Listen,” said Calburn as Roxy’s smile faded. “We – Rhona and me – will have to go back to the mine now that this Charek trouble is over. There’s still work we need to do there. More constructs, more healing. We plan to set off tomorrow morning. But if you aren’t going to become a real danger to yourself and everyone around you, you need someone who can instruct you properly, someone who has a better understanding of your abilities. That’s not us, not in the bone-deep way you need. Here.” He took a notebook and pencil from one of the many satchels on his belt and began to write. “This is the address of another wizard back in Stormhaven. There’ll probably be someone closer to hand that’ll be able to help, but if you’re up for the journey, he’s the best choice. His powers are a lot like yours, and he’s a good friend of ours, so we know he’s trustworthy.” He tore out the page and gave it to Roxy, who took it in one slightly trembling hand.

           “Stormhaven, eh?” said Ernak, draping an arm around Roxy’s shoulders. “I hear they’re a civilised sort of people up there. Don’t fret, Roxy, we’ll work something out for you. Any supplies you two need for heading off, you’re welcome to them.”

           On Vrand, the journey back to the Ironstone Mine would only be a matter of hours. Rhona quietly excused herself and sat at the edge of the camp while the band help Calburn pack up a few bits and pieces.

           Ernak noticed, and sat beside her while Aysel directed the others. “Your first battle?” he asked.

           Rhona nodded. “If you don’t count the thuru skirmish.”

           “I remember mine,” he said. “I was young, younger than Roxy. Our band was camped in the eastern reaches, in the shadow of the Border Highlands. Some reivers – hill tribes – swept down from the mountains one night. They were a wild lot. We only managed to drive them off because everyone – everyone – took up arms, or they would’ve killed all of us and taken our livestock, or so my father said. I was so scared, those reivers barely even looked human to me. They took their own dead and vanished back into the mountains, leaving us to deal with ours. Including my mother. I had nightmares for years afterwards.”

           “One of them took my weapon,” said Rhona, looking at her hands. “So I killed him with my powers. Just reached into his chest and tore at his insides. That sort of power… It’s meant for emergencies, if you have to make incisions without a proper scalpel to hand.” She lifted her glasses off and pinched her nose. “Healing magic shouldn’t be used to kill.”

           “Maybe not,” said Ernak. “But if your life’s in danger, there’s no shame in making use of what you have. A knife, a rock, a hammer… Just about anything can kill in the right – or wrong – hands. Magic’s no different to any other tool that way.”

           Rhona nodded, but said nothing. Up on Vrand’s back, Calburn finished strapping supplies to the harness and waved for Rhona to join him.

           “Do you think you’ll come back to the Steppes some day?” asked Ernak as Rhona stood up.

           “Maybe,” said Rhona after a long silence. “I’ll have a lot to take care of before then. Work at the mine. Work at home. And I’ll have to talk to the head of the School of Healing, for more reasons than one. But after that… Yes, maybe. I’ve enjoyed most of my time out here. It’d be good to explore for a while without worrying about Charek or thuru.”

           Ernak got to his feet and took a few steps forward. Rhona turned to look at him. “I was betrothed once,” he said. “She wouldn’t accept an elfin foster-daughter. That was the end of it. You, I think, wouldn’t have that problem.”

           “Ernak…”

           “May I kiss you?”

           Rhona held his gaze for a few seconds. “No,” she said, very softly. “But thank you for asking first.”

           Ernak nodded sadly. “Go well, then,” he said without rancour. “Thank you for all your help, with Roxy and with the Charek. Come back to Khan’s Kurgan one day.”

           Calburn climbed down from Vrand’s back to hug Aysel and Roxy goodbye, and looked up just as Rhona and Ernak reached them. “Everything’s packed away and tied down,” he said. “We can get airborne whenever you’re ready.”

           “Right.” Rhona made her farewells, politely refusing the offered hugs, and climbed up to attach her safety lines to Vrand’s harness. “Keep in mind what we said about finding a proper teacher, Roxy,” she called down. “Have you still got that address?” Roxy patted one of her pockets. “Good.”

           Calburn climbed up after her. “No sense putting it off much longer,” he said. “No telling what kind of weather we could run into aloft, so I want to make good time. Athi, did you work out how-”

           “They’re sending a salvage team out for Longstride,” she assured him, folding her arms. “Should be able to reforge her with the right tools.”

           “Great.” He donned his flying helmet, rescued from the Charek camp by Ernak. “Then this is goodbye,” he said. “Thanks for having us, and look us up if any of you are ever in Stormhaven!”

           Vrand reared up and spread his wings. Some of the band ran to secure their tents against the draught as he took flight, but most held firm and waved goodbye until they were out of sight.

           “Back to the mine, then,” said Calburn over the wind. “You can tell if your dust lung treatment’s been holding up.”

           “And your pit ponies, too,” said Rhona. “But after this, I don’t want to sign up for any more jobs abroad for at least a year.”

           “I’ll drink to that.”

           Vrand flew onwards, riding the wind high above the Hawk Steppes. After hours, the dark blot of the mine buildings appeared on the green-and-brown sheet of the grasslands, and a speck at the edge of the compound resolved into Overseer Kedran.

           “Is our Charek problem solved?” she asked as Vrand landed again.

           “I think so,” said Calburn. “For a while, at least – until somebody tries this again.”

           “Good.” She waved a hand towards the mine shaft, fenced off and covered in scaffolding. “We’ve been trying to reconstruct the headframe ever since you two left, but I think we need your big construct to make more progress until some proper cranes arrive. And a couple of the miners haven’t been responding properly to your dust lung potion,” she added to Rhona.

           Rhona sighed and slid down Vrand’s side to the dry ground. “Very well,” she said as Calburn began to pass supplies down to her. “Let’s get back to work.”

~~~

When Zar said he would have the heads of the ones responsible, he really wasn’t speaking figuratively. The sword he’s been carrying around is not a purely ceremonial one.

Fun fact: ‘Roxana’ is a feminine form of the Persian name ‘Roshan’, meaning (more or less) ‘light’. Make of that what you will...

[eikatsukiyomi]

Marinette, Twice Exposed

<< First Chapter  |  Next Chapter >

Chapter 2: Marinette’s Other Secret

After eating dinner, Adrien returned to his room with the full intention of working on homework and maybe taking a shower in the hour of spare time he had until 7:25.  He ended up staring at the books and paper on his desk for 5 minutes before giving up and flinging himself back onto his bed, where he remained for next thirty minutes, mind buzzing with nerves.  When his phone went off, he was pretty sure he had a very mild heart attack.  Pressing a hand to his chest in an attempt to calm his pounding heart, he rolled over and got to his feet.

“...Plagg?” Adrien called hesitantly.  “It’s...it’s time to go.”

“And my Camembert?” answered Plagg’s voice from Adrien’s trash can.

Adrien sighed heavily.  Feeling so nervous for so long got tiring after a while.

“Right here,” he replied tonelessly, digging out his last piece of cheese.

Plagg promptly came whizzing over and snatched the cheese out his hand, digging into it with gusto.  Adrien gave him 30 seconds before...

“Plagg, transform me!”

And with that, he climbed out through one of his many bedroom windows, and took off into the fading light.

Somehow, in the 5-minute run to Tom and Sabine’s Patisserie, he was able to outrun a lot of his anxiety.  In the rush of running, leaping, and propelling himself across the rooftops, he was able to blow off a lot of steam he hadn’t realized he had been holding in.  He was still nervous, to be sure, but it was a nervous excitement; he held on tight to the hope that, once the shock had been gotten over with, he and Ladybug (Marinette, he reminded himself.  Marinette, my partner.) could take this accidental revelation and turn it into an opportunity to grow closer...as classmates, as partners, as friends...they had come through far too much together to be torn apart over an accident like this.

Nothing could keep me from being there for her, he silently promised.  I’ll always have your back, my lady, no matter what!

Taking a deep, steadying breath, he leapt down and sprinted across the street before leaping into the air again, touching down atop a lamppost before springing even higher to finally land on the Dupain-Chengs’ rooftop balcony.  Panting slightly, heart pounding (not from the run over; his suit granted him superhuman levels of strength and endurance), he slowly approached the trapdoor, crouched down to sit cat-like on all fours, and eyed it hesitantly.

Is it weird that I’m so nervous? he wondered.  I’ve wanted to tell Ladybug who I am, and know who she is, for so long…I was so in love, I wanted to know everything about her...and I wanted her to want to know everything about me.  I wonder if she was ever as curious as I was...she never said much about how she felt about it, only reminded me that nobody--not even us--could know who we are.  It wasn’t because she wasn’t as little to do with me as possible--THAT I’ve always known--so she must have just been trying to be safe and smart.  So, then...if it weren’t for the need for secrecy, would she not have minded telling each other everything…?

Somehow, this thought gave him a little extra courage.  Maybe, when they got over the initial shock, this could be an enormous burden lifted off their shoulders.

We’ll grow closer getting through this, he promised silently.  You’d want the same thing, too, right, my lady?

He finally managed a brief smile.  He gulped, and gently knocked on the hatch.

Marinette rolled back in her chair and stretched with a groan.  Her shoulders and upper back were feeling a little stiff from hunching over an essay-in-progress for over an hour.  In the last 5 minutes, she had done nothing but stare blankly at her tablet, so she figured she’d be better off taking a break and then switching subjects.

She stood up and stretched again, and decided to change into pajamas.

Then maybe I’ll go downstairs and grab a snack, she thought.

She was just slipping her arms into the sleeves of her pajama top when the sound of knocking suddenly broke the silence.  Marinette shrieked in surprise, getting her head caught in her shirt.  (Outside, Chat Noir winced sheepishly, hearing her shriek from below easily with his enhanced hearing.)  The knocking had come from the trapdoor to the balcony above, not the one leading downstairs from her room.

“Omigod, what was that?!” she squeaked.  “Another supervillain?!  But why here?!  And why knock?!”

“I don’t know!” whispered Tikki from next to Marinette’s vanity.  “Be careful, but try to figure out who it might be; if you transform now, they might figure out your identity if they know you live here!”

Another set of knocks, identical to the first.  The knocks didn’t sound impatient, or aggressive; it was very similar to the knocks she might hear on her other trapdoor before her parents popped their heads in (when they knocked, anyway).  But nobody should have been on the roof this late, and she knew her parents hadn’t gone up there.

She struggled with her shirt until she managed to free her head and pull it down properly.  The trapdoor was locked, but if it was a supervillain, it wouldn’t slow them down much.  She slowly backed her way towards the trapdoor leading downstairs, in case she needed to run for it, and tried to think of her options.

Knock knock knock knock knock.  A third set of knocks.  Then, a hesitant voice calling through the door, too soft and muffled to make out.

“Who is it?” Marinette called back.  She was proud of herself for not sounding scared.

A pause.  Then…

“...Marinette?”

Marinette’s stomach lurched and her heart stuttered at the familiar voice.  Chat Noir gave himself a mental slap on both cheeks; his voice had come out softer and a lot less confident than he had wanted it to.

Marinette’s brain was swirling in panic and confusion.

...Adrien?!  There’s no way…!  ADRIEN?!  WHY THE HECK IS HE ON MY BALCONY?!  HOW DID HE GET UP THERE?!  WHAT THE HECK IS HAPPENING?!

“Marinette?  It’s...it’s Chat Noir.  Um, can I come in?”

Marinette’s brewing panic attack screeched to a halt.  

...wait, what?  Oh...yeah, I guess that is Chat Noir’s voice...but he sounds...off.

“Uh, yeah, just a minute!” she called.

She climbed up the stairs to her bed and reached up to unlock the latch.  Still not knowing what to think about the situation, she nevertheless pushed the door open and stood up to peek outside.

There he was, sitting cat-like by the hatch and smiling in greeting at her in a curiously tight, fixed manner, like he was nervous about something.

“Uh, hey, Chat Noir!  What’s up?” Marinette greeted cheerfully, trying to seem excited to see him.  As far as he knew, she was but an ordinary girl who had merely gotten caught up in a few sticky situations involving supervillains...and on at least one of those occasions, she was pretty sure he had convinced himself that he had greatly impressed her with his superhero skills-with-a-z.

“Hey!” he answered with an awkward wave.  “Uh, I was wondering if you and I could...have a little chat?”  He cocked his head to one size, seemingly in an attempt to look charmingly more cat-like.  “I need to tell you something important.  May I come in?”

“Oh!  Sure, absolutely!” she chirped back.  “Come on in!  I’ll get out of your way here…”  She ducked down and descended the stairs, wracking her brains to think of why he might have come here.

He hasn’t interacted with me as Marinette in a while, and I haven’t been caught in a tight spot as Marinette in a while, either.  What could he possibly have to talk to me about?

She sat herself in her computer chair as Chat Noir dropped down onto her bed and descended the stairs after her.  She realized a split-second later her mistake, and stood up again.

“Wait!  Don’t--!”

It was a split-second too late:  Chat Noir had already come down and turned around.

“What?” he started to ask.  “What’s the--?”

He trailed off.  Something on the wall to his left had caught his eye, and now his eyes were slowly roaming around the wall as if he was in a trance, taking in the sight of many, many photos of a very, very familiar model, all over the wall.

That is...definitely me.  Those are very definitely photos of me, Adrien Agreste...on Marinette’s wall...I am all over Marinette’s bedroom wall…

Marinette was frozen, her eyes bugging out and her jaw gaping open in horror.

Oh god, he’s seen them… she thought.  Someone please kill me…

There was a moment of absolute silence as both Chat Noir and Marinette tried to get their brains back online.

Marinette has photos of me ALL OVER HER WALL...Why does Marinette have photos of me all over her wall?  What am I supposed to do with this information?  I don’t know what to think AT ALL!  What does it MEAN?!

Chat Noir recovered first; somehow, he was able to force a coherent sentence out of his mouth, and sound somewhat calm and collected:

“So...you’re a...fan?”

Marinette blinked, and then finally seemed to come unstuck.  Her eyes followed his gaze and darted around, taking in all the pictures of Adrien that still had Chat Noir somewhat spellbound, and then came back to rest on Chat Noir again.  When she failed to respond right away, he finally tore his gaze away from the wall to look back at her.

“Uh...no?  I mean, yes?  I mean, no!” she babbled, waving her hands in front of her in panic.  “No no no no no!  It’s not what it looks like!”

Somehow, miraculously, Chat Noir managed to raise one eyebrow and smirk dubiously at her.

“Reeeaaallly?” he drawled.  He relaxed his posture and stood with his hands on his hips.  “And, what do you think it looks like, little princess?”

“Um…!”  With her eyes still bugging out, Marinette was clearly wracking her brains for a response, and...was she blushing?  “Like...like an obsession?  With Adrien Agreste?  Because that’s totally not what it is!  I’m not obsessed!  I just...I’m really into fashion?  And I want to become a fashion designer?  And Gabriel Agreste is kind of my idol?  Because he’s, like, the greatest fashion designer in the world?  And Adrien Agreste is his son?  And he models for his label?  So I...just use the pictures for inspiration?!”

“I mean,” Chat Noir began, glancing pointedly around at all of the pictures of himself.  “Looking at all of these, you’d think Adrien Agreste was the only model for the whole company, but I’m preeeeeetty sure having only one model advertise the entire label by modeling only young men’s fashion wouldn’t be a very good business model.  What about women’s fashion?  All those beautiful dresses for red carpet events and high-class social gatherings?  They’d be ignoring their biggest demographic!  And you’d be missing out on all of that inspiration!”

Marinette’s sheepish grin seemed frozen on her face, and, if possible, her eyes seemed to get even bigger.  And yes, she was definitely blushing.

Oh my god, this is so bad…!  Marinette thought.  I do NOT want Chat Noir of all people learning about my secret crush on Adrien!  I don’t think he’d be able to resist teasing me...he wouldn’t be trying to be mean about it, but it’s none of his business and it’s EMBARRASSING!!

“Well…!” she floundered.  “He’s...he’s also my class and he’s in my friend?  I mean he’s my friend and he’s in my class!”  Where was I even gonna go with this?!  “So…!   So…!”

“Sooo…?” Chat Noir echoed, leaning forward in interest.

I have no idea what to think! he thought.  I mean, if this was anyone else, I’d just assume it was a celebrity crush, but if that’s what it was, Marinette would have been fawning all over me like so many other girls did when I first started school.  But it never seemed to be a big deal to her…

But then…why does she act so weird around me? he wondered, baffled.  I really wanna know…

He hadn’t forgotten why he had come here in the first place, but he just couldn’t bring himself to let this go until after they talked about their secret identities. He needed to know everything!

“Aww, come on, Marinette!” he began, grinning.  “There’s no shame in crushing on handsome young celebrities!  It’s part of being a teenager!”

“You’re a teenager, too!” Marinette retorted, gesturing toward him incredulously with both hands.  “And, not to further inflate your ego, but you’re a celebrity, too, and you’ll notice I don’t have pictures of you all over my room!”

Ah, but you do!  Chat Noir just snickered at this; the irony was just priceless.

“Stop laughing!” Marinette growled, stomping her foot.  She crossed her arms and scowled at him.  “Why do you care who I like, anyway?  It has nothing to do with you...unless…”  Her entire posture suddenly relaxed, and she suddenly stared at him like she had never seen him or even heard of him before.  “You’re...jealous?  No, don’t tell me…!”  She stood up straighter and crossed her arms against, now smirking smugly at him with one eyebrow raised (It was so distinctly, unmistakably Ladybug that it made his stomach do a giddy backflip).  Still obviously teasing him, she held one hand to her chest dramatically.  “Aww, Chat Noir, I’m sorry, but my heart already belongs to someone else...”

“So I’ve noticed!” Chat Noir said, looking pointedly up at the pictures again.  He held his chin in his hand thoughtfully, giving his own face an evaluating look-over.  “I don’t blame you, he looks like quite the dreamboat!”   

Marinette’s expression changed from smug to grouchy again faster than a traffic light.  Screwing her eyes shut, she took a deep breath, and then resumed scowling at him.  She looked about ready to launch into a lecture.

“Okay, now look!”  Marinette began. “Yes, he’s famous!  Yes, he’s handsome!  But that is not why I like him!

“He’s super-smart, and super-talented: he fences, he plays basketball, he plays piano, he speaks Chinese, and gets really good grades in school in addition to modeling!  And even though Adrien comes from a rich family and he’s in every fashion magazine in Paris, he’s always so modest and polite; he never rubs in anyone’s faces, and he’s so, so nice to everyone!    He gets along with everyone in my class, and he’s always thinking of other people, and…uh...”  

Marinette’s rave trailed off as her brow relaxed and her eyes gradually fell to stare at the floor.

Her shoulders hunched inward shyly and she started fidgeting, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot and tapping her index fingers together under her chin.  Chat Noir stared at her in stunned silence, his mouth slightly open.  He didn’t think he had ever seen her blush so much...not as Ladybug, certainly, and he couldn’t remember noticing Marinette blush like that before, either…

But maybe she had been.  Maybe she had been blushing all the time, like the way he did whenever he met Ladybug’s gaze without a mask to disguise his face.  Maybe he just hadn’t noticed...or hadn’t understood what it all meant:  all of her blushing, her stammering, and her fidgeting and flailing…

Marinette continued, now speaking softly as if to herself:

“...I thought he would be just like this other girl in my class--she’s the daughter of the mayor and she’s spoiled and selfish and an absolute pest--just because he was rich and famous…I thought he was putting gum on my seat when he was actually just trying to take it off.  It turned out he had never been to school before, and didn’t know how to make friends, but even though he didn’t even know if I believed him, he gave me his umbrella because it was raining…”  

She smiled wistfully.  

“There was something about how kind and sincere he was to me that just…”  She trailed off and shook her head as if coming out of a daze.  She sighed, and then looked up at him, her eyes bright with conviction.  “We’ve been friends since then--at least, I like to think so--but whenever I try to ask him out, my mind goes blank, and I start stuttering like crazy, and end up making a fool of myself.  And he’s still always nice to me, even though I can’t seem to put together a complete sentence around him...so, yeah, I’ll admit I’m...that I…”  She heaved a deep sigh.  “That I’m in love with him.  But it’s not a celebrity crush.  I just can’t help but admire how amazing he looks in pictures anyway.”

“Huh…”  Chat Noir murmured, still staring at her, as if he was seeing her for the first time.  He felt slightly dizzy, barely able to comprehend what he was hearing.

All this time, Marinette...liked me?  Adrien me?  And I’ve been in love with Ladybug, all this time...but Ladybug is Marinette, so then…

...we’ve both been in love, chasing after each other this whole time…?

He keep staring at Marinette, his eyes roving over her face, and drowning in her blue eyes.  She looked back at him, now clearly baffled at the intensity of his gaze.

Why is he looking at me like that? Marinette thought.  She was mystified by his expression, which she had never seen on his face before.  He looked as if he were hypnotized...hypnotized by her.  And it almost seemed to draw her in...what was he thinking?  She wanted--needed--to know…

Then, slowly...a smile bloomed on Chat Noir’s face.  It was like watching the sun rise behind his mask.  His eyes never left her...and she couldn’t look away, either.

Chat Noir didn’t have words to even describe to himself what he was feeling...it just felt like his heart was inflating and floating upward like a hot air balloon.  And then, his eyes flickered down and caught sight of her lips:  glossy, pink, and soft and plush-looking like a fresh flower petal.  And when, just for a second, he wished he could kiss those lips...it hit him, all at once, and it felt like Ladybug’s hands had reached inside and squeezed his heart between them.

I love this girl... he thought.  I’ve loved her since the day we met...but back then, I only knew her as my crazy-amazing partner, Ladybug.  We made such a great team from the get-go, I never doubted that were made for each other!  And now, I know that she’s also one of first, and closest, friends...instead of knowing two separate girls, each from different sides of my life, I actually know one girl twice as well as I thought I did, across both identities...and I think...I think I love her all the more for it.  Who else could possibly be the more perfect girl for Ladybug to be, besides Marinette?  I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

A gentle chuckle escaped him, and it just grew from there: soon, he laughing like he hadn’t laughed in long time.  His cheeks felt sore, and there was a lump of unshed happy tears in his throat.

Marinette was completely lost.

“Why are you laughing?!”  she demanded, scowling again.  “Is my secret crush funny to you somehow?  Humph!  As if you’re some kind of love-guru…”  She backed up and seated herself in her computer chair, crossed her arms, and pouted at him.  Unfortunately for her, she was still glowing bright red with embarrassment, and she couldn’t seem hold eye contact with Chat Noir for more than 2 seconds at a time.

“This is damaging to my self-esteem…” she growled.  “I hope you know.”

Chat Noir struggled to catch his breath, but he felt positively giddy with joy.

“I--I’m--!  Ha ha!  Ha ha ha ha ha!  I’m sorry, Ma--ha-ha-ha-ha-ha--!  Sorry, Marinette!  I’m not--!”  He giggled, wheezing slightly now.  He held up a hand.  “I’m not laughing at you!” he gasped, hugging himself around the middle with his other arm.  “I’m just…”  His laughter was finally wearing off, sounding more like panting after running a marathon.  He blinked away the happy tears budding at the corners of his eyes and looked at her apologetically.  “I’m just really, really happy…”

Marinette’s face relaxed and she blinked at him in confusion.

“You’re...happy?  Why?” she asked.  “And...wait, why did come see me in the first place?  What did you want to talk to me about in the first place?”

He took a few more deep, regulating breaths, and finally stood up straight again.

“Well...it’s gonna be a long story, and…” he glanced at the round window over her desk.  “I probably won’t even be able to cover everything if I’m gonna let you get your sleep.  And…”  He took another deep breath.  “Everything’s gonna change for both of us from here on out, but I’m hoping it’ll be for the better, once we get used to it all.”

“Wha...what do you mean?” Marinette asked softly.  She suddenly became aware of her heart pounding nervously.

I have no idea what to expect... she thought.  What could he possibly mean by, “Everything’s gonna change for both of us”?  He’s still smiling, so it can’t really be bad news, at least, right?

“All I can do is just explain,” he answered, shrugging.  “Are you...you okay to hear me out?”

“Uh...yeah…” she answered.  “I think so...”

“Okay…”  Here goes… he thought.

“So…” he began slowly, carefully trying to formulate his story in his head.  “You, uh...remember Windfall, the supervillain that made money rain all over campus earlier today?  And there were a ton of police and emergency crew everywhere because so many people tried to collect the money instead of evacuate?  And the press sent in, like, four helicopters?”

“Uh…yeah, yeah, of course!” she said, grinning nervously.  “That was my school, and I, uh, was in class at the time, so I had to evacuate with everyone!  It was...really noisy and chaotic and...just crazy!  I-it was a good thing you and Ladybug got there so quickly before things could get even crazier!”

Now that he knew she was fabricating part of her story on the spot the way he had to do so many times, it seemed so obvious.  He sincerely hoped he sounded more convincing than she did when he had to come up with an excuse for his absence.

“Right…” he said slowly.  “Well, when it was all over and...Ladybug and I left the scene, I had to turn around to avoid letting the helicopters see me.  I was worried they would try to follow me for extra footage, and then they might see me detransform.  So I lost them, but…”  He pressed his lips together anxiously.  “I accidentally ended up following you and, long-story-short, I accidentally saw you detransform and walk out right in front of the car I was hiding behind,” he forced out through his nervously-clenched teeth.

Marinette’s face had gone completely blank, with her eyes bugging out and practically threatening to pop out of her head.  She could have been an extremely well-made and dressed mannequin.

“...so, I guess I know you a lot more now, my lady,” he said, grinning nervously.  He hoped he had succeeded in not sounding worried or upset.  He really didn’t want her to panic.

Good news was, she wasn’t...not yet, anyway.  Bad news?  It looked like he had broken her.

“Uh...you still with me, Marinette?” he asked brightly, leaning forward to stare at her.  “Ladybug?”

Movement!  Her right eye twitched.

...he saw me…  Marinette felt like her brain had been downgraded to a dial-up connection to her ears.  ...he saw me detransform...he saw me...he knows...he saw me...he knows…

“...Laaaaaaadybuuuuuuug…” he called quietly in a sing-song voice.  “Yoo-hoo!  Buginette?  Bugiboo?  My lovely little love-bug?”

Marinette finally snapped out of her daze and gave herself a shake.

“Ugh, okay!  Okay…”  She took a deep breath, looking just a little unhinged.  “So...now you know...um...what happens now?”  She managed to refocus her eyes and look him in the face again.  She was gently worrying on her bottom lip, which distracted him for a brief moment...it drew his attention to her lips, so adorably pink and soft-looking...but he knew nibbling your own lips lead to chapped lips (which, as a model, he couldn’t afford to get, of course), so he slowly...very slowly...reached out and very softly stroked his clawed thumb over her lip, causing her to reflexively part and relax her mouth.  She stared at him with wide, shining eyes, surprised and in awe of his unexpected tenderness.

“Well, you deserved to know as soon as possible, and I didn’t know when I would see you next as Ladybug,” he explained, his voice low and barely more than a whisper (the sight of her gazing at him with such intensity was so mesmerizing).  “But…”  He forced himself to stand up straight to give her more space.  “I also figured it was only fair to...tell you who I am, too, if you want to know…”  He put his hands behind his back in an attempt to look as modest and harmless as possible.

“You...you would tell me who you are?  But…”  She appeared to consider her next words, glancing at the floor.

This feels so surreal...is this really happening?  She thought.  I understand everything he’s said so far, but at the same time, I feel like I barely understand what’s going on...Should I be freaking out more?  Is is all this...really okay…?

“Are you...really okay with...with me being me?” she finally asked.  “I mean…”  She grimaced at Chat Noir nervously.  “I know I don’t...act the same way when I’m Ladybug as I do when I’m just Marinette…”

“I think it would be weirder if you were!” Chat Noir said brightly, shaking his head with a grin.  “Ladybug has to fight supervillains and rescue civilians, and Marinette has to worry about school and friends and family; they’re two totally different sides of your life!  I’m the same way, you know,” he admitted, scratching the back of his head a little shyly.  “I can’t act the way I do as Chat Noir in my normal life...I have too many responsibilities...too many people with too many expectations for me that I have to live up to…”  Though he was still smiling at her, Marinette thought she could hear a hint of sadness in his voice with this last admission.

It sounds like his normal life is...really demanding, even stifling and stressful...I don’t think I could have guessed that, from how carefree and...playful he is, she mused.  I guess, if I’m being honest with myself...it makes me curious.  If it only makes sense now to share our secret identities with each other, I think I’d actually...really like to get to know Chat Noir better.  Even if he gets on my nerves sometimes, I’m so glad to have him as my partner.  He’s actually...a pretty great guy under all those bad puns…

She smiled at him, feeling a little bashful, and nervous, but hopeful.

“I’m...glad being my partner makes you happy,” she said softly.  “I know I’m happy to have you around.”

Chat Noir wasn’t prepared for that; his eyes widened, and his mouth gaped ever-so-slightly.  He was truly touched, and it didn’t even occur to him to keep it from showing on his face.  He beamed at her, his eyes shining gratefully.  He stepped forward, and got down on his knees in front of her.

“Thank you…” he murmured.  “You don’t know how much it means to me to hear you say that, my lady.”

From her perch on her computer chair, she looked down at him in surprise.  His gaze was so tender, filled with so much raw adoration that it almost took her breath away.  She smiled at him and leaned forward.

“I should have said it more often,” she said.  “I...didn’t want to fuel your ego, because it seemed so big already, but now I know how wrong I was to think that...you deserve to know how much I appreciate you.”

If she keeps saying things like this, I’m gonna cry! he thought.  He was seized with the urge to gather her up in his arms and kiss her until the sun came up again, but he resisted by the skin of his teeth.  It was only right to let her know who he was, and how he felt about her, before requesting a kiss from her.

“In that case,” he said.  “You deserve to know that meeting you, and becoming Chat Noir to fight by your side changed my life in a way nothing else ever could.  This past year and some months since we first fought Stoneheart together...it’s been the happiest time of my life.”

“Oh, Kitty…”  Marinette came down from her chair to sit on her knees on the floor with him, and him into a hug.  Chat Noir instinctively wrapped his arms around her and laid his head gently on top of hers.  He felt like there was a big knot made up of his emotions squeezing his heart and tugging it up his throat.  It felt wrong to try to push it back down, to try to keep it from escaping him, after keeping it barely concealed inside himself for so long...

“Will you tell me?” Marinette whispered.  “I want to know…”

His breath hitched, and there was the tell-tale sound of a sniffle from his nose.  It was too much...she was too much.  She was welcoming him literally with open arms, drawing him in where he would be helpless, and never want to leave…He almost forgot what she had just said in the rush of emotion finally bursting out of him.

“I love you…” he whimpered into her hair.  “From the day I met you…!  You have no idea…!  I just...didn’t know how to…!”

He heard Marinette gasp softly, then felt her squeeze him tighter.

“...even now?” she whispered.  

“More than ever…” he croaked.  “You have always been amazing, my lady; both with and without the mask.  I was just too blind to see for the longest time that you were one person...not two.”

They sat there on their knees, holding each other for a moment.  When Marinette relaxed her hold slightly, he let them both pull back so they could look at each other again.  He could feel partially-fallen tear tracks drying on his cheeks, but he wasn’t ashamed in the slightest.  Marinette was looking back at him with tender eyes and a tender smile, but also in wonder…

“Do I know you in real life, too?” she asked, looking deep into his eyes.

He nodded eagerly, rubbing one of his eyes with the heel of his right hand and giving a big long sniff in an attempt to clear his nose.

“Oh, geez...” she muttered, looking down at her knees.  “That makes me a lot more nervous!  But…”  She looked back up at him.  “But I guess, in a way it means that much more to know who you were all this time.  I just…”  He saw her glance at her pictures of him, and he was pretty sure he could guess what her worry was.  “I...I would hate to make things...awkward between us because of…uh...”

“Hey…”  He reached out to gently press his left palm against her right cheek and turn her face back to face him.  He cradled her face in both of his hands, and his heart sang when she relaxed her neck.  “You don’t have to worry.  If you can learn to love this side of me as much as you love the awkward boy who gave you his umbrella, then I’ll be the happiest, luckiest cat in Paris.”

“What do you--”  She cut herself off and stared at him in disbelief.  No way...I heard that wrong somehow...there’s no way…!

Chat Noir took a deep, steadying breath.

“Plagg...detransform me.”

Marinette squinted in the brief crackle of green sparks and black particles that enveloped him as his suit disappeared and Plagg came flying out of his ring.  Marinette’s eyes popped open like a frog being squeezed too hard, and she gawked at him like he had sprouted fur and whiskers.

“Hi…” he whispered gently, still holding her face in his now-bare hands.  “Um...sorry I’ve been such an oblivious idiot.  I always thought I’d recognize you anywhere, but it looks like love made us both blind!”

Marinette slowly reached up to press a hand to one of his, her eyes never leaving his, as if to check to see if he was real.

“...Adrien…?” she whispered.  Is this really happening?  

He beamed at her and nodded again.  (His cheeks were sore from smiling at her.)  

“...and yours,” he whispered back.  “If you’ll have me, my lady...”

He paused, and then, slowly, and gently, he drew her face forward ever so subtly...and he leaned forward until he was able to touch his forehead to hers.  He heard her soft, shaky intake of breath (and if at any point she had stopped blushing since he last noticed, she was definitely blushing again, now), but she didn’t move, except to press her hand more firmly against his.  Her eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and her eyelids fluttered slightly.

I...I want this to be real…I’ve never seen Adrien look at me like this...like I’m the moon and stars.  But, he’s Chat Noir...which means he’s always looked at me like this...just not while I was looking.  I just didn’t catch him at it...just like he never caught me gazing at him longingly because he wasn’t looking at the right time...

Maybe this should be a lot more nerve-wracking and awkward...but I just feel really…floaty (Is “floaty” a word?).  And…

Her eyes, which had been slowly exploring and admiring his face, came to rest on his lips, still smiling blindingly at her.

I feel like I’m gonna faint thinking about it, but...I really, really wanna kiss him...

Adrien instinctively zeroed-in on the split-second flicker of her gaze to the lower-half of his face.  The sight made his heart jump, and it felt like the sign he had been yearning to see since the day he fell for her.

“...Marinette?” he murmured.

Jerking out of her daze, Marinette blinked rapidly at him, but by some miracle didn’t freak out and burst the happy bubble they were in.

“...Hm?”  It was the only sound she could managed, but it was enough.

Adrien swallowed nervously.

“May I...may I kiss you?”

Oh, god, yes, please…!  Dream or no dream, I have to kiss you…!

Her chin trembled, but she held his gaze and nodded.  Adrien’s heart stuttered in giddy anticipation and threatened to jump into his throat as he guided her face towards him, tilting his head to meet her. 

Their lips met gently, and a little uncertainly, but Adrien died a dozen blissful little deaths inside from how soft her lips felt against his.  For the record, even if it had been the most awkward first kiss ever performed, Adrien would still have found it magical, because this was the girl he was hopelessly in love with, and he was kissing her at last! 

They pulled away gently after only a second or two--it apparently took practice to make a kiss last longer (despite what romance movies would have him believe)--but it was a second or two of delightful little shivers shooting up their spines and fluttering heartbeats.  Then, just as Adrien was about to open his eyes, Marinette cupped his face in her hands and pulled his face closer, and started kissing him again!  There was no hesitation this time, only sheer joy and loving warmth in the passionate way she was firmly pressing her lips to his.  Adrien sighed audibly and instantly responded to her with equal fervor, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her closer.   Marinette made a tiny little hum of happiness against his lips, and he almost fainted from the sheer wonder of the moment.

When they finally parted (anywhere from 3-6 seconds later; Adrien couldn’t have kept track with his brain overheating and running at 30% efficiency), he heard them both gasp very softly for breath, and his lips tingled from the little puff of air from between Marinette’s barely-parted lips.  Still holding her in his arms, he felt it when a shiver went up her spine.  He leaned back just enough to be able to see her face again, and another little whoosh of air escaped him at the sight of her cheeks glowing pink and her eyes half-lidded and shining as she stared back up at him.  She looked exactly like he felt:  like she had just found the secret to everlasting happiness, and almost couldn’t believe she wasn’t dreaming.

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