#specifically it was the blurring around the edges of the frame that felt familiar

[hey-scully-itsme]

i'm watching Apocalypse Now and had a REALLY funny moment just now where i was having a weird sense of deja vu (unrelated to the fact that i'd seen the movie before) about how some of the shots looked and then i remembered that it's because my senior thesis short film also used Zeiss standard speed anamorphic lenses.

[httpknjoon]

(re)starting over again | kth; 6

plot | Your four-year relationship with Taehyung was going well and strong. Until he was involved in a car accident, resulting to him losing some memories. By some, it means everything that happened five years ago. Things he remember? His friends, his bakeshop, and his ex girlfriend from the past. With that, you tried to keep up, restarting over again.

words | 3.1k+

genres | fluff, angst, amnesia au

pairing | taehyung x reader

warning/s | cliffhanger(?), mentions of the accident, nightmare, an overthinker

note | I'M BACK!!! it's been months and I am so sorry for the lack of update. But now, I'm here with an update! I chose to divide this chapter into two-part as I don't feel like squeezing everything into one post. I'm scared that it will be too much for both me and the readers. 6.5 will be posted in the following week! Anyways, here it is! Let me know your thoughts :))

main masterlist | series masterlist  |  previous |

Breathe in, breathe out.

You let out a deep sigh with your last exhale. As expected, you did not have any proper sleep. After having a so-called dinner with Taehyung, you tried to busy yourself by emptying your half-filled hamper and cleaning your room. When you were finishing your laundry, Taehyung only passed by in the small laundry room, saying he will go to his bed. You nodded and said good night.

At that point, you cannot help to think that you two were basically housemates. But you just shake it off your head and get back to your chore. Then, you tried cleaning your room at ten in the evening. You were wiping your vanity mirror and vacuuming your floor as quietly as you can. You did not know how many minutes have passed when you found yourself staring at your and Taehyung’s framed pictures. Travel photos, candid selfies, and a wacky one.

It took a few pages of reading an old novel you found under your bed before setting it aside and falling asleep on your bed. Then, you found yourself standing in the same waiting shed near the hospital. The awfully familiar one. It was night. Two ambulances drove by. You felt your phone vibrating in your bag so you reached for it. The caller ID was all blur. Although confused, you answered. 

Taehyung. Accident. Taehyung. Accident. Taehyung. Accident. Taehyung. Accident.

Two words are repeated over and over again. It was getting louder and louder. You don’t know what was happening and you wanted to scream. Everything that was in sight: the road, the moving cars, the hospital, is all getting swallowed by this jet-black empty wave.

Then, you woke up, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. You leaned on the headboard, sitting up, while your eyes moved around your room. The rising sun was peeking through your curtains and you looked to your bedside table and see that it was only fifteen past five in the morning.

“Good morning, I guess,” you spoke to yourself as you get off the bed.

You knew you are not going back to sleep again. So, you reached last night’s book on your bedside table and walked out of your room to prepare yourself a cup of tea.

Exactly six in the morning, Taehyung’s phone rang as he set this specific alarm days ago when he had his day planned for Lily’s visit. But he was already awake, since almost half an hour ago. He was just lying down, setting his eyes on his cream-colored ceiling. The thoughts in his head are all popping up all at once.

FRIENDS. Lily. Break. Communication. Cheesecake recipe and ingredients. Bakery. Morning. The engagement ring in his closet. You. Communication. Lily. 4 PM. 6 AM. Tulips. Pink. Ross and Rachel. Secret.

He had the same thoughts last night when he tried to sleep after watching that old-school sitcom with you. But, he ended up shifting to different sides of his bed. So, he thought of maybe digging up in his closet for that ring. And when he found it, he sat on the edge of his mattress. He still has the same question he had when he first took notice of it:

Who was it for? Lily? Or you?

He was fiddling with the ring between the tips of his fingers before he decided to put it back in its box and place it back in his closet. It only took him minutes of staring at nothingness when his eyes slowly shut down.

Then, he woke up out of the blue. He swore he saw a woman waking him up in his dream but her face was blurred and every other detail was forgotten the moment he woke up. After watching the boring ceiling again until his alarm sounded, Taehyung decided to get up and do his original plan.

“Good morning.”

He almost jumped when he heard your calm voice since he was wiping his eyes, distracted, as he walked into the kitchen. There, he spotted you on the counter with an open book and an empty cup with a teabag in it. Taehyung did not expect you to be up this early even though you said last night that you were going to fix your sleep schedule. 

“Morning.” he greeted back. “How was your sleep schedule?”

“Shitty.” you snorted before standing up. “Oh, excuse me.”

He was reaching for the jar on one of the cabinets above the sink when he felt you squeezing yourself in the narrow space in front of him. So that you can put your cup in the sink. He tried to make more space by stepping back but it was useless as the kitchen island was there. It was a quick and close interaction, nothing but innocent. He even took a whiff of a pleasing fabric conditioner from you; lavender and vanilla. Maybe it was because you did some laundry last night, but it strangely made him pause for a second. Dazed. Especially when you turned around, meeting his gaze while he remained frozen.

“I can make you tea.” you offered with a smile. 

Your eyes sparkled and it was like his heart beats faster. You were waiting for him to answer while still maintaining eye contact with him. For the first since he woke up from the accident, he felt nervous with you. Not awkward, not scared. Nervous as he scans every feature of your face. From your raised eyebrows, and bright eyes, down to your nose and soft smile. He gulped when he realized he was drifting away mentally. He took a step to his side, welcoming more space between you two.

“Ah, yeah. S-Sure.”

What the hell? Why did I stutter?! He internally scolded himself, scratching the back of his neck. Taehyung tried to distract himself, looking around the room. And when he spotted a loaf of bread, he immediately took it.

“D-Do you want some toast?” he bit his inner cheek when he realized he stuttered again.

“Sure.” you shortly answered, pouring hot water into a cup.

So, he did toast enough bread for both of you. You also made another tea for yourself after Taehyung’s. Just like your other mornings before you two got busy at work, he sat beside you on the chairs. When he placed a plate of toasted bread and eggs on the counter, you immediately took one and smeared strawberry jam on it.

“Here.” you handed it to him like it was already a habit of yours.

“Thank you.”

You nodded and made your own. After having a bite, you broke the silence. “I will shop for groceries possibly next week. If you need anything, you can tell me or list it down.”

“Can I come with you?” he asked, not wanting you to be alone with the chores here. He watched you doing all of it in his first weeks back.

“Sure. But not now. Maybe on Wednesday.” you shared. “Jisoo is having her bachelorette party later.”

Taehyung’s eyebrow raised, “Really?”

“Yep.” you responded, popping the ‘p’, before taking a bite.

Then, he remembered Namjoon’s bachelor party. Namjoon dropped by the bakery days ago just to tell them about it. It’s tomorrow. It is the only day his close friends are all available. So, he agreed to have it a day later than his future wife. He said it will not be a wild party. Although Taehyung wants to celebrate with his friends, the idea of drinking and maybe going to some loud places is uncomfortable. So, he didn’t assure Namjoon about it, to which he agreed, saying that it was no pressure.

“Namjoon is having his party tomorrow,” he told you. “I don’t know if I am going.”

“Hm? Why so?”

“I’ll probably not have fun. Jimin told me Namjoon’s other friend is planning to take us to a concert and that’s too loud. I think I’ll end up having a headache.” he smiled sadly.

He tried not to sound sad. He misses going to social events that play loud music. But, he cannot enjoy such a thing now without having a headache. You, on the other hand, can see through him. You know him and you know that after going through big changes these last few weeks, he is missing a lot of things.

“Do you miss going to parties?”

He put on the same smile and gave a small nod.

“Don’t worry, we can have a party for two here.” you tried cheering him with a gentle statement. 

You looked at him and lines formed between his eyebrows. You smiled and reached for your teacup and gently tapped it with his, producing a small sound.

“Our own quiet, little tea party here.” you quipped.

Taehyung’s lips formed a genuine grin before he did the same thing with his cup too. He took a sip from it and enjoyed the quiet minute with you. You two were already cleaning up when you spoke again,

“I might go last minute shopping later at 3 PM since the party is at 8. I’m thinking of visiting the bakery after I shop?” you mumbled like you were asking permission.

“Yeah, su–” 

Taehyung paused when he realized what is going to happen today. Lily will be visiting today at 4 and you don’t know it.

“Yeah, no.” he tried to express it as calmly as he can, not trying to sound harsh. “You know…Uhm… It’s Saturday. The bakery may be busy today. I’m sor–”

“Oh, no. It’s fine, Tae. I understand.” you cut him off before he can apologize.

“Uhm, I-I should go shower. I have to bake something early today…” he excused himself when he felt a tinge of guilt in him.

When you replied a small okay, he walked back to his room. Under the shower, he tried to focus on the Cheesecake recipe he’s been planning to do for Lily’s visit. But you keep coming inside his head. Why are you so nice? Should he tell you about Lily? Isn’t it too late already? And why the hell did he stutter when you were just offering to make him a cup of tea? 

In the end, he left your shared home with just a simple goodbye to you. You were watching some movie on the television when he left. You waved your hand at him and wished him safety. While on the bus, he spotted the flower shop he always passed by. He also made plans connected to it: to buy pink tulips for Lily. he knows that it is her favorite flower. But thinking about it now, when you keep on popping in his mind for some reason, he feels strangely guilty.

“Good morning.”

Their entrance bell clung as he walked into their shop. Jimin’s bright greeting followed. Taehyung, still distracted, greeted back. And Jimin quickly took notice of it. He followed his best friend as Taehyung entered their kitchen.

“Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

Taehyung was bringing out ingredients as he answered, “Lily is coming today.”

“Yes, I know,” Jimin replied. “What’s the problem with that?”

His best friend paused with a deep exhale, “Y/N.”

Jimin’s eyes widened as he heard that. He was about to say something when Taehyung spoke again.

“No, not Y/N. But it involves her.”

“What did she say?” Jimin asked.

“What?” Taehyung asked back, more confused.

“What did she say when you told her about Lily?” Jimin repeated with clarification.

“She still doesn’t know.”

Jimin’s lips gaped open with his eyes screamed more confusion. He held his forehead like he can feel a headache coming. He thought Taehyung finally told you. 

“I cannot tell her, Jimin. At first, I think that telling her about it is just pointless. But now, I don’t know why I feel like I should tell her. But it also feels like it’s already too late. I feel like telling her would bum her out and I cannot do that, especially today. Jisoo’s bachelorette party will be her first night out after taking care of me ever since I got into that accident. I don’t want to ruin that… I don’t know. I cannot think of a reason why I should tell her but I feel like I should.”  Taehyung rested his arms on the table, looking down the floor.

Jimin frowned as he eyed his friend sympathetically. Pursing his lips, he tried to think of something to say but nothing came up. He waited for Taehyung to say something again. Instead, Taehyung shook his head and got back to what he was doing.

“No, it’s just a talk.” He whispered like he was assuring himself.

The day went on. Taehyung juggled his time baking different pastries. Jimin managed all the chores outside the kitchen. Taehyung would be taking some short breaks and helping to wipe tables and moping the floor. He would still pause if he get headaches. But it was just short ones and he will go back to baking. 

“What time is she coming again?” Jimin asked after a customer left.

“Four.”

Jimin eyes his watch, seeing that there are still thirty minutes left. “Hmm… Okay. Are you done with your cheesecake? Can I help you with anything?”

“I’m already finished. The cheesecake is in the fridge.” 

Taehyung removed his apron, finally cleaning himself and his work table from the mess. Jimin can tell something is still messing with his friend's mind. Significantly when Taehyung paused and glanced at him for a couple of seconds. So he told him,

“Just tell me what’s going on in your head.”

Taehyung sighed. His shoulders slumped as he asked, “When was the last time you saw Lily?”

“When I visited you guys in your apartment,” Jimin answered casually, leaning on the doorframe.

“My apartment?” Taehyung repeated after a few seconds of silence, eyebrows scrunched together.

“Yeah, the one that was like five blocks away from here. The one where you and Lily lived together.“

“What?! When was that?” Taehyung was intrigued with pure shock and confusion. He doesn’t have any memory of living with Lily. “You never told me anything about that.”

“I thought you knew about it,” Jimin replied in a defensive tone and Taehyung shook his head, still in shock. “It was–”

The bell above the entrance door of the shop clung, signaling that there was a customer. 

“I’ll get that first,” Jimin said before turning his back to the kitchen. He walked back to the counter, ready to serve the customer when he recognized who it was despite its new hair color.

“Hi, Jimin.” 

“You know what? Just buy them all.”

With two different outfits in each hand, you stood in front of Jisoo. The bride herself joined you in your last-minute shopping when she learned that you will be doing it alone. So now, being the more stylish one between you two, you let her judge your outfit choices for her party later.

“In no way I am buying two dresses for a single night.” you chuckled while looking at the dresses too. 

Both are tempting for your sight. One is a long-sleeved low-neck sequinned dress while the other is a mini blazer dress. You and Jisoo have been deciding between the two for almost fifteen minutes now.

“Just think of it as a gift to yourself, okay?”

“And why would I even buy myself a gift, Jisoo? It’s not my birthday.” you rolled your eyes.

You hear your friend sigh, shaking her head, before answering you again: “Y/N, you literally are an overworked nurse for this past month.”

“I was on a break for a whole month–”

“Because you had to take care of your boyfriend. So yeah, a nurse, a caregiver.” she cut you off with her last sentence as a sarcastic remark. Before you could say anything again, she swiped the dresses off your hands. “If you won’t buy these, I will just pay for them myself.”

Hearing that, you immediately followed her before she can get to the counter, “Okay, okay! I’ll buy it!”

So you did. A nurse, a caregiver. Jisoo clung to your arm as you two strolled to the mall. She was sharing stories about her wedding preparations drama. You were trying to listen but somehow those words stayed in your head, forming questions.

“By the way, are you going to buy shoes too?” Jisoo asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

You shook your head, “Oh, n-no. These clothes are enough.”

Unfortunately, your best friend is quick to pick up on your tone and expression. So, she stopped walking and turned at you. Lines formed between your eyebrows as she puts both her hands on each of your shoulders.

“Are you okay?” 

“Of course!” you answered with conviction in your tone. You thought saying a joke would ease her off, “I am just thinking of the money I spent for these.”

“Don’t. You deserve it!” she uttered with complete assurance. “I swear if you’re not buying shoes because of that–”

“No, I don’t think I need to buy a new one, Jisoo. It’s fine, I still have something to wear!” you chuckled. You were about to pull her to the nearest spa when you spotted a familiar guy coming out of the store behind Jisoo.

“Is… that Jimin?” you asked Jisoo, making sure that you are seeing right.

“Oh, yeah– Hey, Jimin!” your friend immediately waved her hand when she saw your friend.

Jimin’s eyes slowly widened as he recognized both you and Jisoo. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. He seems as surprised as you too. Taehyung told you earlier that the bakery is packed at this hour so you were immediately curious about what he is doing in the mall.

“Oh– H-Hey, ladies.” he stammers as he walked in your direction. “What’s up?”

“Oh, we’re just shopping for this one’s outfit for my bachelorette party later!” Jisoo replied.

Jimin was avoiding your eyes and you know it. Yeah, his eyes landed on you for like a second but you saw his lips twitch after that.

“Yeah. How about you, Jimin?” you asked, trying to sound normal, not suspicious.

His adam’s apple bobbed up and down, “Oh. Uhm… I… I am just looking for a new… New… Apron!”

Both you and your best friend squinted your eyes with Jimin’s sudden exclamation. You raised an eyebrow and he cleared his throat,  “I mean, apron. I accidentally burnt my favorite one so I thought of looking here while the bakery’s not that busy.”

While the bakery’s not that busy.

Recalling what Taehyung said, they clearly contradict. It feeds on your overthinking, which immediately produced questions and thoughts. Did Taehyung lie to you? Does he don’t like the idea of you visiting the bakery? Is he having enough of you at home that he doesn’t want to see you out of it? Are you suffocating him?!

“Y/N?” Jisoo called you.

You blinked, “Yep?”

“Let’s go?”

You were so out of your thoughts that you did not notice Jimin already left. You probably just waved your hand and nodded mindlessly when he bid his goodbye. 

“Yeah, let’s go.”

RESTARTING OVER AGAIN TAGLIST

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PERMANENT TAGLIST

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[yannowhatigiveup]

New but True

This is the 10k+ one shot I was talking about. I finished it as quickly as I could yesterday (with aching muscles WHICH STILL HURTS-) Any way enjoy!

Wordcount: >13k

Damian didn't know how he was expecting his day to go but he didn't expect it to go like this.

He woke up a little earlier than usual which was an annoyance since he would be doing patrol late at night. His brothers were also being a pain when he arrived for breakfast, but that was normal. What wasn't normal was the fact that he had this aching feeling in his stomach, a gut feeling, that something would happen. He wasn't sure whether it was something good or something bad, but he wasn't going to take any chances. He didn't pay any attention to Dick as he talked about how Kor'i and Mar'i would be coming to visit. The eldest, being his overdramatic self, let out a huff of taken offense when he realised Damian wasn't paying attention. His thoughts were interrupted by Jason's annoying snark.

"Demon-spawn's love life is nonexistent, did you really expect him to listen?"

Damian inhaled sharply through his nose, took a sip from the cup of coffee he stole from Tim, reached for a knife and looked Jason straight in the eyes. "Your life will be nonexistent, Todd"

As he was about to throw it, Alfred materialized behind him. "Master Damian, no throwing utensils at the table"

The green-eyed boy huffed, finishing the rest of Tim's coffee off. He left to his room with no comment and when he reached his room, he changed to go on a walk.

He didn't have a specific area he wanted to go to, he just let his legs do the walking. He made it to a paint shop, an antique shop, a small drinks stand where he bought a small lemonade from and a quiet street. Then the feeling returned only much stronger. Damian then felt as if he was being watched. His eyes squinted and scanned the area surrounding him only to be filled with dread as a wave of exhaustion hit him. Somehow someway, someone managed to drug him. Soon the effects of the drug went in full motion and he sank quickly into darkness.

~~~

Damian, still half asleep, tried to move around, only to feel a chains bounding him to the floor. Now he was fully awake. His eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room and he came to the conclusion that he was kidnapped by the League of Assassins. He was heavily and expertly bounded to the floor which was a bother. Then a voice made him realise he wasn't alone.

"Wh-where am I?" A faint, small and sweet voice asked in French.

Damian's head turned to the direction the sound was doing from, his vision was then locked with the other figure in the room. Green eyes met blue. Damon didn't know what to say after meeting the girl's gaze and instead observed her. She was beautiful, probably the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and she looked small, frail and weak. But Damian knew better than to judge people based on appearance alone. It could all just be an act, an image she's trying to portray. 'This girl has to be dangerous or has to have a great significance of some kind. After all, she was kidnapped too'. Damian was about to answer when an all too familiar voice answered instead.

"You're in the League of Assassins, little guardian" a female voice replied in french. Damian then turned to meet his mother's glare, giving Talia a glare of his own.

"...Why am I here?" Even though the girl seemed very fragile at that moment, her voice was intimidating.

"To be betrothed to my son"

"What?!" Both teenagers exclaimed in French.

"You heard me. You-" Talia pointed at Damian. "are the heir to the League of Assassins and you-" her finger pointed to the blue-haired girl. "are the Great Guardian, heir to the Order of the Guardians." she then crossed her arms. "It would be beneficial for both parties for this marriage to take place as it would create an alliance between the two opposing organizations"

Talia approached the blue-eyed girl first. "I have your kwami" she whispered furiously in French. "Go through with this, otherwise your kwami will take the punishment" Damian didn't understand what his mother was talking about and soon she was approaching him. "You refuse, the girl dies. You choose" she told her son in English. Talia was very certain the girl heard and understood her words.

He didn't know anything about the girl but he would be damned if he let her die. Damian and the figure both locked eyes again. Though neither face showed any emotion, their eyes conveyed a silent conversation, a silent agreement.

Talia didn't see this as she was already turning away from them. "You'll now be escorted to different rooms to change". At her command, more people entered the room.

~~~

He was forced into his assassin's gear and dragged to the alter, many assassins with weapons drawn warned him to remain where he was. Then the doors opened. The mysterious blue-

eyed girl was fitted in a dark red qipao, her long midnight hair, that was now let down, framed her face perfectly. If they weren't in this situation, he probably would have approached the girl himself.

Being brought back to reality, both him and the girl stood side by side, looking up at Talia who had a goblet filled with god knows what. The brown-haired woman then forcefully took the girl's hand and sliced her palm, letting the blood drip down into the beaker. Upon doing so, the blue-haired girl winced when the blade made contact with her skin. Talia then took Damian's hand and did the same, Damian didn't show any emotion when the action was done. The woman mixed the liquids and poured the concoction into two separate glasses. She chanted something in another language which he didn't bother listening to. Both Damian's and the girl's eyes locked once more before they both brought the chalices to their lips and drank. Damian ignored the burning from the liquid as it went down his throat but he saw the girl gulp in visible discomfort.

After the ceremony was complete, the newlywed couple were forced into a bedroom. Damian tried opening the door but it was, shut. He turned to face the girl who was now sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I'm truly sorry for these turn of events"

"I'm so sorry they dragged you into this"

Damian and the blue-eyed girl shared a small but saddened chuckle as they both talked, in English, at the same time.

"Like I said earlier I... I'm sorry you were forced into this" Damian murmured as he went to sit next to the girl, keeping some distance as to not make her uncomfortable.

"I'm gonna stop you right there" She put her hand up, indicating for him to stop talking. "You were roped into this as much as I was" the girl hesitantly placed her hand on his and surprisingly, Damian didn't feel the need to pull away. "The only person here to blame is your mother" her eyes widened at her own statement "Sorryifthatoffendedyou!"

Damian chuckled at her reaction. "It's fine. She only gets the privilege of being called my mother because she's biologically related to me" he thought for a moment and cleared his throat. "Since we're... married"

"We might as well try to make it work" she smiled at him and Damian felt his cheeks heat up ever so slightly.

He nodded. "Firstly, Hello, my name is Damian, Damian Wayne and I am your husband"

"Well hello too you too! I'm your wife and my name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng... or is it Wayne now?" Marinette asked slightly flustered. Damian decided that he enjoyed seeing her flustered. He took the hand that was resting on his and gently kissed her knuckles. The bluenette's blush was far more visible now.

"Marinette" Damian hummed. "A beautiful name to suit a beautiful lady such as yourself"

She giggled, Damian revelled in the sound. "You're one to talk tall, dark and handsome" she abruptly stopped. "Wait, Damian Wayne?" Marinette tried to stifle her laughter but failed.

"What's so funny?" He shot her a jokingly glare.

"No it's just-" she tried to control her laughter and managed to lower it to giggles. "There's a girl in my class and she says that you and her are a couple"

The look of disgust on his face managed to throw her into a fit of more laughter. "The only woman that I love is my beautiful wife" he grumbled, pulling Marinette closer to him and wrapping his arm around her waist. Damian felt the blue-eyed girl's body freeze. "Sorry I-" he was cut off when Marinette leaned into his embrace, her head snuggled under his chin.

"I love you too, mon chéri"

~~~

In the few hours she really got to know him, Marinette fell for Damian, she fell hard. He told her about his pets and about Jon, his self proclaimed best friend. He then told her about his family, how they were actually the Bats and how infuriating they were, though she knew he loved them. In turn she told him about being Ladybug and the situation in Paris, he was furious about not knowing of this sooner. Even more so after finding out her relationship with her classmates but he kept his promise to not kill them, for now.

They hadn't noticed how much time has past until the sound of the door opening reminded the couple of where they were. Damian and Marinette both stood up, the bluenette slightly behind her husband as Talia entered the room. The older woman tossed a cage and a key at the two, she left without saying a single word. Marinette picked up the key and stumbled to cage, shakily turning the key. As soon as the cage door opened, the red blur flew out and hugged her cheek.

"Marinette I was so worried!" Tikki squeaked

"I'm glad you're okay Tikki!" The bluenette turned to the black-haired boy who was smiling ever so slightly at the reunion. "Damian this is Tikki, my kwami. Tikki this is Damian, my husband"

Damian stood and nodded curtly at the flying goddess. The kwami flew up, inspected for a second and hugged his cheek. Marinette giggled at the interaction. "He's right for you Marinette. But the moment I get my hands on that witch of a woman, I will get Plagg to deal with her"

Marinette, not wanting to stress her kwami best friend, suggested that Tikki get some rest and the kwami, though hesitantly, agreed. Now it was just Damian and Marinette awake. The green-eyed boy walked towards the window, Marinette followed suit.

"Tt, It's bolted down where we can't reach" Damian was referring to the window.

"I checked for any secret doors or passage ways, nothing"

"We need to escape somehow" he murmured. 'We could try to pick the door lock but there's an object obstructing the hole, only removed when the key is used. Kicking the door down could be an option but there could be assassins posted outside-'

"You look tired" Marinette's sweet voice interrupted his thoughts. "Go to bed"

"I can sleep on the flo-"

"It's cold sleeping on my own" she smiled up at him. Damian swore that her smile was brighter than the sun itself. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Alright"

Marinette was surprised at how well she trusted Damian despite the fact they had known each other for less than 24 hours. Yet here she was, cuddling up in her husband's arms. It was probably Plagg's influence giving her confidence. Then again, Damian must be thinking the exact same thing. She reached out to cover the black-haired boy completely with the blanket provided. When she was sure he was safe under the blanket, she kissed his cheek and snuggled back into his chest. They could escape later, right now she just wanted to spend time with Damian. Her husband.

~~~

A few days had past and they still hadn't made any progress of escaping. Though they had made progress in bonding. Despite the fact they had only been with each other for a few days, they felt as if they'd known each other for years. They knew each other's hobbies, favourite activities, body language. It's almost as if they could communicate through their eyes alone. Damian hate to say it, but he had to thank his mother for introducing the two. Though that small spark of gratefulness would soon flicker out.

One day, Damian woke alone. He noticed the lack of his wife's signature scent, vanilla and cherry blossoms courtesy of her shampoo, as well as the lack of warmth when he woke up. It hit him like a train, Talia took her. He stormed through the door, surprisingly it was left unlocked. He found his mother in a separate room, calmly drinking tea.

"Where. Is. My. Wife." He growled out. Talia looked at her son, put her cup of tea down and stared straight into his eyes.

"We've decided" she began slowly. "That we need more from their side of the bargain" A dangerous glint was in her eyes. "We've asked for the miraculous in exchange for protection but since they've refused, we're going void this bethrothal. By killing the girl. You are no longer needed here"

Damian's eyes were wide open. Marinette was the only person in the world he truly loved, she didn't judge him for his past and she didn't mind when he was stubborn and self-centered. He'd finally opened his heart to her fully, now his mother was going to kill her. His fists were clenched but before he could do anything, he was hit at the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

~~~

"Has Master Damian returned?" Alfred asked when he entered the living room.

"Nope, the brat's not home" Jason replied, too invested in one of his books.

"Is there something wrong, Alfred?" Alfred turned to where Dick was sitting on the couch, eager for his wife and daughter to return from Tamaran.

"Master Damian is usually home by now when he goes out for walks and it is almost time for dinner" he sounded as if he was going to say more but there was someone at the door so he went to see who it was, Dick followed thinking it was Kor'i and Mar'i. But before he left he told the other two men in the room to call Damian.

Jason tried first but succeeded no results. "You try Replacement"

Tim, who was losing it slightly as he had one less cup of coffee than usual, obliged, only to receive the same outcome. Getting slightly confused, he tried tracking his little brother's phone. Soon Mar'i came in.

"Hi Uncle Jay! Hi Uncle Timmy!" She looked around the room, her green eyes slightly glinting with sadness. "Where's Uncle Dami?"

Tim and Jason looked at each other, gesturing for the other to answer. Luckily Alfred stepped in. "He's out on a walk. Right now it's time for dinner so let's get you seated"

The little girl bounced with joy. "Okay Papa Alfie!"

The the two left, Bruce decided to walk in. He glanced briefly around the room. "Where's Damian?"

"He's not answering any calls or messages. I tracked his phone and-" he turned the computers screen around, showing a map with a circle indicating where Damian's phone was.

"Should we go get the Demon Brat now B or?" Jason asked.

"You can go Jason"

The second eldest went to the batcave to suit up and Tim sent the location. It lead Red Hood to a quiet street, and an unsupervised phone. He picked it up, saw all of the notifications on it and looked around the area. No Damian in sight. What was insight though, was a cup of lemonade, nearly finished. 'This is getting very weird very quickly' Red Hood figured it would be best just to take it back in case.

When he got back, he put the lemonade through for testing and went upstairs for dinner, Damian's phone in hand. When he arrived he was met with all the stares of anticipation. He sighed and put the phone on the table.

"I didn't find Demon Spawn" nearly all of the table sighed. "All I found was lemonade, didn't know he drank it"

"Did you get it tested for any sedatives?" Dick asked, worried for his little brother.

"In the cave now"

"Tim, he has a tracker on right?" Dick turned to the coffee-deprived boy.

Tim nodded and pulled his phone out. "It must've got damaged somehow, it's not appearing on the map"

"Has it got a tracked history of where he's been?" Bruce cut in. Tim fiddled with his phone for a moment.

"His last tracked location was the same location where we found his phone"

"Is Uncle Dami gonna be okay?" The small girl's voice echoed in the room.

"Don't worry my little bumgorf, I'm sure we will find him" Kor'i reassured her daughter.

Soon dinner was finished, Kor'i took Mar'i to her room so the others could find out what happened. When they reached the batcave, the lemonade, the only piece of evidence they had, had traces of a very strong sedative that would've knocked Damian out in seconds. They went out on an earlier patrol to see if they could spot the green-eyed boy. Nothing. On the regular patrol, no villain had claimed to taking Damian. Again, the patrol received no results.

"I'll try calling Jon" Dick's worried voice whispered.

After a few rings, Jon picked up. "Hi Dick! What's-"

"Have you seen Damian today?"

"No I haven't, why is something wrong?" The boy asked, getting worried for his best friend.

"He's not picking up his phone and his tracker for damaged"

"...o-okay I'll keep an eye out for him"

Dick thanked the young superhero and shook his head to all the people in the room. They all collectively sighed. 'Where did you go Little D?'

~~~

A few days passed and they still had no luck. Jason was getting worried, 'The Joker better not have him'. Though Damian is a little shit at times, he was still his younger brother. Jason was always the first to get out and look for him, he was one of the last people Damian talked to that day, and he wasn't necessarily happy about what he said to him beforehand. If he was captured, tortured and/or killed by the Joker, Jason would never let the feeling of vengeance grow.

Red Hood surveyed the area and his head darted in the direction of what sounded like a struggle. He alerted the others through his comm and headed towards the noise. It came from two hooded figures and...

"Hey!"

The hooded figures froze at the sound of his voice. They quickly left the area not before harshly throwing the third figure at the nearby wall. Red Hood ran up to the boy and he was right. It was Damian, battered, bruised and unconscious. But he was alive. Red Hood scrambled to his side, carrying him on his back. "I found him but he's not doing too good"

"Bring him back to the batcave, Agent A will take care of him. In the meantime, return to patrol"

When they had all finished, they returned to the batcave where Alfred was hovering over Damian, who was on a bed, covered in bandages.

"Master Damian is recovering quickly, he'll wake up soon" Alfred reassured the worried family.

Though not most of them wouldn't admit it out loud, they deeply missed and were incredibly fretful for their youngest. Bruce, Dick, Tim and even Jason all sat around Damian. Only after Alfred assured them to bed did they leave the boy's side.

Tim woke up early, as usual, and he decided to fix himself a cup of strong coffee. He grabbed his laptop from the living room and instead of doing work there, he went down to the batcave at sat besides Damian's bed. He'd felt a pang of sadness when his younger brother didn't return home a few days earlier as he didn't interact at all will him before he left.

Tim didn't register when Damian left, or the fact that Dick was talking, or even when Jason kept throwing remarks here and there. The thing he did register though was the fact that his coffee cup was no longer in his reach. "Who took my coffee?" He tried to sound threatening but it came out as tired and completely done.

"Demon Spawn took it" Jason scoffed.

Tim then reached for the familiar cup from across the table, only to find it empty.

"How dare he drink my coffee" Tim growled, a new source of energy arising from his anger. "The brat's definitely going to get it later"

All too soon, it was time for breakfast. Tim got up to leave only to stop when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. The coffee lover turned to face a half conscious Damian.

"You're okay! Little D's awake!!" Tim shouted to get everyone's attention.

"Could you not burst my eardrums Drake?" The green-eyed boy grumbled, his head still throbbing from the hit he had taken earlier.

One by one, the others filed into the batcave. Dick gave Damian a big hug, Tim flashed a smile of relief, Jason ruffled the boy's hair and Bruce gave a small hug followed by a pat on the head. Throughout the whole ordeal, Damian had blank stare. No scowl, no unpleasant looks. Nothing. No one knew what had happened, only that it wasn't good. Soon, Mar'i came running in and jumped onto his bed, squeezing him in a hug.

"Uncle Dami we were so worried!" The little girl sobbed. Though the contact did hurt, he pushed aside the pain from the injuries and patted his niece's head.

"I'm back now"

"Where did you go?" Mar'i's eyes shone in burning curiosity. It reminded Damian of Marinette, the first thing she said had the same curiosity.

"It doesn't matter" he choked out. The others must have mistook the question as a trigger for a bad memory as they instantly changed the subject, they had no clue of the real reason.

"If you are well rested, Master Damian, would you like to join us for breakfast?" Alfred entered the room, his eyes were empathetic. 'Pennyworth knows what happened, he always knows'

"Yes, thank you Pennyworth" Mar'i jumped off so Damian could stand up. He suppressed a wince as he put pressure on his right foot. Slowly, the others left to go upstairs and Damian was left alone with his father.

"Damian" The green-eyed boy looked up to where Bruce was standing. "What happened?"

"Mother" he states simply, he didn't need to add anything else.

"What did she do?"

"..." Damian didn't answer at first, he looked away, wanting to avoid eye contact as much as possible. Bruce patiently waited, however. The green-eyed boy's head lowered to the ground but his gaze was fixated on his father. They had a deadly, destructive, toxic tint that even disturbed Bruce. But he said nothing, not a single word left his mouth and whatever he wanted to say seemed to die down in his throat. Damian took a few steps to one of the exits before stopping and turning back towards Bruce. "I appreciate your concern, father" Damian's lips twitched, forming a small smile, and he walked away, trying not to show he was limping.

Bruce watched as his youngest walked, limped, away. Whatever Talia had done, it had taken a toll on Damian. Mentally and Physically. He wanted to know exactly what happened so he could give the help the green-eyed boy needed. For now, he'll let his son relax and heal, he deserved it.

~~~

Marinette woke to a lack of warmth and the lost feeling of strong arms around her body. One of her eyes fluttered open, she was in a different room, one she didn't recognise. The bluenette began to panic and searched for the door, it was locked.

"Dami?"

No answer.

"Tikki?" Luckily, the small goddess was in the room.

"I tried to stop them but they knocked me out, I'm so sorry Marinette!" The blue-eyed girl was quick to reassure her kwami when she heard talking down the hall.

"Where. Is. My. Wife."

Marinette immediately recognised it as Damian's voice. She wanted to call out but it would be a stupid move, there could be assassins posted in front of her door, she could put Damian in danger, the possibilities were endless. So she just listened.

"We've decided... that we need more from their side of the bargain. We've asked for the miraculous in exchange for protection but since they've refused, we're going void this bethrothal. By killing the girl. You are no longer needed here"

The blue-haired girl then heard the sound of something heavy being used to hit someone, then a loud thud. Marinette had to cover her mouth so that her scream would be muffled. She had to get out of there. Now. The bluenette didn't want to leave without Damian, but he would want her to escape. She quietly transformed and went to the window in her room, it wasn't bolted down like the room she was previously in so she used her yo-yo to break it down. And she ran, she ran as far as her legs could take her. When she was positive she was safe, she took her yo-yo and called the one person who could get her out of there.

"Pegasus?" She asked, her voice hoarse as she held back tears.

"Ladybug! We're getting worried, where are you? A Parisian citizen is missing and there's an akuma attack currently going on and if you don't get here we'll 100%-"

"Can you get my location, please?" Ladybug pleaded, hoping that the horse hero wouldn't get mad for cutting him off. Other than the occasional computer keyboard sounds, the line went silent. "When you do, please don't question where I am. Can you teleport me back to Paris?"

"Got it Ladybug" the ladybug hero then heard a muffled 'Voyage!' in the background and a portal appeared in front of her.

The portal lead to the Eiffel Tower and in front of her was a worried Pegasus.

"I'll explain everything later, let's deal with this akuma first"

~~~

After a difficult akuma and a Lucky Charm in the form of fairy lights, Ladybug felt her walls crumbling.

"Ladybug!" Chat's voice echoed from behind her. The black cat hero was followed by Pegasus, Ryuko and Honey Bee, Chloe's new hero mantle. "What happened? Where did you go?"

Before she could answer, Pegasus spoke up. "Sorry to interrupt but my miraculously about to run out and I need to return it"

"Oh right, come with me Pegasus" She lead him to a nearby building and he detransformed, leaving Max standing where the horse-themed hero once was.

"My friend Marinette is still missing, can you-"

"She's safe don't worry, she'll be home soon" After bidding Max goodbye, she returned to where the other three heroes were waiting.

"Alright Buginette, explain" Honey Bee exclaimed as soon as Ladybug arrived. Though the spotted heroine didn't seem to be listening. "Ladybug-"

She detransformed, wearing a black qipao with floral embroidery, and Tikki hugged her cheeks as tears rolled down them. The others were quick to rush to her side.

"Mari-hime... what happened?" Ryuko began slowly.

"I think it's best if she explains this at home" Chat Noir suggested.

"I'll take her, you two detransform and meet her at home. I'll come up with a cover story" Honey Bee said, carrying the woeful bluenette.

When Kagami and Adrien arrived at the Tom and Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie, Marinette's parents were busy in the baker but explained the story that Chloe had told them, how Marinette was a target for one of the Akumas and needed to leave immediately. They said she was up in her room. The two were about to walk up the stairs when Chloe burst though the door behind them, out of breath, and walked with them. As they opened the trapdoor in Marinette's bedroom floor, they found the bluenette sat on her chaise, being comforted by the small red kwami.

"You know how strong Damian is, Marinette. I'm sure he managed to escape and I bet he's as worried as you are right now" the three heroes heard Tikki say.

"Whose Damian?" Adrien asked. The bluenette only seems to then notice that there were others in the room with her. She sighed and gestured for the three to sit in front of her, which they did.

She took a deep breath. "So a few days ago I was kidnapped by the League of Assassins. They were the organization that the Order of the Guardians had been opposed to for so long. Their current leader decided it would be best to end this conflict and had me, along with her son, kidnapped for an arranged marriage. Damian is her son and before you bash him or something, he was just as forced into it as I was. He turned his back on his mother and the league years ago and I don't hold him for his past."

"Since the betrothal was sealed with magic, we both knew that there was no safe way around it so we decided to work with it. I got to know him, he got to know me et cetera. And I kinda fell hard for him. Earlier today I woke up in a different room than the one I had been locked in, luckily Tikki was with me. I didn't know where he was but I heard Damian confront his mother about my whereabouts. Then when she revealed she was planning to kill me, she injured Damian so that he would be unable to save me and I ran away." She composed herself and looked at Adrien's, Chloe's and Kagami's expressions.

"Now I don't know if Damian is okay or if he still loves me or if he hates me for leaving him behind-" she began rambling on again as her friends were still processing the information.

"Dupain-Cheng!" Chloe shouted, stopping Marinette from maundering on any further. "So you got kidnapped, you got married... and now your worried your husband hates you because you escaped?" The bluenette nodded slowly. "You get left alone for a few hours and you're already married..." she teased, trying to lighten up the mood.

Marinette's cheeks were tinted red but her expression didn't change otherwise. "You said he's the son of the one who kidnapped you right?" Kagami asked.

"Y-yeah"

"Does he know how to use a sword? I wish to duel him to see if he's worthy of your love" she stated simply. Adrien chuckled softly and Marinette smiled slightly.

"What's his last name as it's also your last name now?" The blue-eyed girl's cheeks got redder as she cleared her throat.

"Wayne, Damian Wayne"

If Chloe was drinking a something she would've done a spit take right at that very moment. "Damian Wayne? As in the son of Bruce Wayne the billionaire? The one Lie-la's lying about dating?" Marinette nodded.

"You were saying earlier that you think he might not love you anymore right?" Adrien tried to distract the girls from Chloe's spluttering.

"...yeah what about it?"

"Well you also said he confronted his mother right? Well he must've truly loved you to just go and yell at a dangerous person who was also the person holding them captive. Though you haven't really told us what he's like, I doubt he would just stop loving you like that" Kagami emphasized his point by snapping her fingers.

Marinette smiled. "Thanks for coming to talk but right now I'm exhausted"

"We'll leave you to sleep, Mari-hime" The Japanese fencer then pulled the two blondes out of the room as they both wished her a good nap. Marinette kept a smile until they left, it slowly fell and Mari sank in the pillows of her bed. It didn't feel right to sleep without Damian. She felt... incomplete without him by her side. The tears rolled down again.

~~~

It had been a few days since Damian was found and, honestly, he wasn't doing that good. He'd been quiet, ignoring all remarks from his brothers, hadn't issued any death threats, even his pets didn't seem to bring him more joy. What confused the bat brothers the most is whenever someone would call out for Mar'i, Damian would always glance at the direction of the sound, only to have a slight hint of disappointment in his eyes when he saw his niece but he would always put on a smile for the small girl, sometimes genuine, most times forced.

They didn't have a clue how to crack the case so they got the next best person to obtain information for the green-eyed boy. Jon.

When Jon appeared at the door, Alfred was quick to lead him to Damian's room. The sooner Damian had someone to talk to, the better. "Master Damian, you have a visitor"The door was unlocked so Alfred lead Jon in and promptly left afterwards.

There was silence between the two ad Jon sat down on the floor in front of his best friend, who was sitting on the end of the bed.

"Dami? Do you wanna talk about it?" Jon waited patiently for the green-eyed boy to talk. After a few heartbeats, Damian sighed.

"Mother kidnapped me for an arranged marriage" he murmured. Jon gasped lightly as Damian continued. "She and I were both kidnapped and forced to go through with it. That's how I got...this" He lifted his hand to show faint but noticeable, curved scar, made by a very sharp blade. After a few seconds, Damian put his hand back down. "We were trapped in a shared room so we took that opportunity to get to know one another"

Damian didn't continue after that and Jon came to a conclusion. "You realised you love her"

He nodded. "Now, it's my fault that she's been tortured. Because I wasn't fast enough to protect her..." This was probably the first time Jon had seen his best friend visibly melancholic so he gave him a small hug and surprisingly, Damian wasn't bothered to push him away. "I am so pathetic"

Jon noticed someone at the door, Dick perhaps, but he doubted they they heard anything as Damian's voice was above a whisper so that only Jon could hear. After hearing the person walk away, he decided to lighten the mood. "What's she like?"

"Beautiful, kind, smart, resourceful... She's the living embodiment of sunshine, a breath of fresh air. She isn't quick to judge and she's always got a plan in her head. She's persistent too, and it's adorable when she gets flustered" Damian smiled lightly to himself.

"What's her name? What does she look like?" If talking about this girl made the green-eyed boy happy, then that's what Jon will do.

"Her name's Marinette. Blue hair, blue eyes, short" Damian chuckled lightly. "A smile brighter than the sun itself" he paused. "I don't think she's dead, she's too strong to go down just like that. But I think she's absolutely livid at me."

"She loves you a lot right?, then she wouldn't be" Jon reassured his best friend. "I gotta go now but feel free to talk about her, kay?" Jon almost left the room but was stopped by Damian's voice.

"Hey, Kent" he turned. "Thank you"

Jon smiled brightly before leaving the room, he went down stairs to the living room and was greeted by Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Alfred and Kor'i.

"Well?" Jason pushed, eager to know what was bothering the brat.

He wasn't sure what to say until he heard Alfred whisper. "Let the young master tell them"

Jon shook his head. "Not my place to share. I'm sure he'll tell you eventually though, he just needs time to find the right words" 'He can't just waltz in and say "I got betrothed and now I think my wife hates me cause I left her at the mercy of my mother" They'll think he went mad!'

Bruce sighed. "Thank you Jon, how bad was the situation he was in?"

All the adults in the room were on edge as Jon took so time to formulate his answer. "The aftermath hurt him a lot" the others nodded.

"Wait" Everyone turned to the origin of the sound, Kor'i. "Why does Little D always tense when he hears Mar'i's name?"

"Yeah he does seem to do that" Dick murmured.

Jon was silent for a few seconds, 'What am I supposed to say? Damian's wife is called Marinette and "Mari" is probably a nickname for her. And your daughter just so happens to have the same name!' "Uh, Well Damian himself will have to explain that" The couple, though seemingly unconvinced, nodded.

"Thanks for your help, Jon"

~~~

A few months have past, Damian has slowly gotten better but he still hasn't quite been the same. He'd always have a scowl, as normal, and he'd issue death threats but only after a lot of probing. He'd also refrain from using his katana and other sharp utensils as a first resort. It was scary to say the least. He'd also spend a lot more time in his art room. Though he never displayed any emotions on his face, Damian's brothers noticed how whenever the green-eyes boy was upset, he'd always run his thumb on a long scar on his palm. Obviously from when he was kidnapped.

No one found out what happened as they never asked. Though they were curious. The curiosity grew when Jason managed to sneak into Damian's art room.

Jason was walking around the manor, looking for one of his guns that one of his brothers had hidden, he still didn't know who did it. Somehow, he found himself in front of the door leading to Damian's painting room and surprisingly, it was unlocked. Wanting to look for his missing gun and definitely not wanting to snook around, Jason waltzed in.

Briefly looking around for his gun, Jason came to the conclusion that it wasn't in this room but he stayed to look, admire, at his youngest brother's paintings, his fingers stroked through his two-toned hair. Though he would never admit it, Damian had real skill. One painting in particular caught his eye. It was small but held incredible detail, it looked like a scene frozen in time, but the detail wasn't what caught his eye.

The painting itself was of a long, sharp blade, it was covered in blood. Two different shades of blood. Jason suspected that this was the blade that caused the scar on Damian's palm, further supported by the still drying paint. Most of the paintings before the incident were either of the family or just landscapes, it was no coincidence that this painting was of a memory of what happened the the period he was taken.

Noting that the Demon Brat arrived back from patrol at 4 am, he was probably still asleep, Jason took the painting to bring to the living room.

"Any luck finding your gun?" Tim questioned mockingly.

"No" Jason replied in the same mocking tone but it quickly changed into a serious stare. The other adults noticed this change. He turned the painting in his hand around so that the artwork faced the audience. "I think I found a clue"

When that happened, they watched the boy's moves much more carefully. As well as monitoring the paintings in his room. Thankfully, the other paintings weren't of what happened, they returned to simple family portraits and landscapes. Though it could be debatable as they still had no idea what happened.

Bruce decided to host a competition, where the prizes would be an all-expense paid trip to Gotham and tours of WE for the next generation of work force, it was to write a letter detailing accomplishments and good-deeds as well as those who inspired the writer. He was going through the entries along with all his sons, Damian insisted on reading the ones he was given in his room, though not all of them wanted to help willingly. Expect for the occasional tapping at the computer's keyboard and thoughtful hums, all was silent in the manor. The silence was broken by Tim.

"Hey I like this one" he sipped on his coffee as Dick came to read the letter over Tim's shoulder.

"I think we found a winner" Dick chimed as Tim sent it to Bruce.

When he got it he read through it carefully. This was definitely one of the best they had received. "Very detailed, descriptive, the punctuation is on point, there's a tribute to their heroes as well" Bruce hummed. "Who's the one who submitted this?"

Tim squinted at the computer screen. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, from Paris"

"You're gonna do a background check on her, aren't yo-" Jason paused mid sentence. "Why did the lady mention heroes?"

~~~

A few months have passed since the newlyweds were separated, Marinette still missed Damian every day. Adrien, Chloe and Kagami still didn't know how to cheer the bluenette up, they hadn't told Luka yet either as they were aware he still had lingering feelings for the blue-eyed girl. That was until one day a certain competition caught the school's eye. One being hosted by a certain Bruce Wayne.

When Marinette entered her classroom early, for once, Chloe and Adrien were already waiting for her. "Look at this Mari-bear!" The female blonde shoved a flyer in the bluenette's face. Marinette took it from Chloe, her eyes getting wider as she scanned it.

But he time she was done, one had was covering her mouth as her eyes began to water. "If you enter you'll get a chance at winning and that means you'll get to see Damian again!" Adrien encouraging smile was blinding.

The bluenette nodded. "Yeah, I'm gonna enter" Just as she finished her statement, the bell rang and the rest of the students filtered in and once all the students were seated, Miss Bustier entered. She was surprisingly on time, for once.

"Class, I have an important announcement to make" The incompetent teacher clapped her hands to gain the class' attention. They settled down after a few minutes. "As I'm sure some of you have heard, Bruce Wayne as announced a competition which the price is a trip to Gotham!"

"My Damiboo must've begged Bruce to host this competition as he could see me again" Lila gasped dramatically, her fake, faker than her tinnitus, crocodile tears threatened to spill. "I-I w-w-wasn't supposed to s-say a-a-anything. Please d-don't tell anyone!" The bluenette had to bite back a growl and merely settled for glaring daggers into the brunette's skull.

"We won't girl!" Alya comforted the liar, glaring at Marinette and Chloe at the back, as if daring them.

"Even if the competition was made for Lila to return for Gotham, we still need to have a good entry" Miss Bustier specifically landed her gaze onto Marinette, pushing all her responsibilities onto the bluenette, yet again. "I'll leave you to plan" The redhead teacher left the classroom, not even staying for a full 10 minutes. Marinette sighed and turned to Chloe.

"I'm going to write about our achievements as citizens, I hope I get chosen. I really want to see Damian again" The bluenette murmured, the blonde hugged her best friend.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll win. Then you and your loving husband will be reunited" Chloe's tone changed from sincere to teasing when she mentioned Marinette's husband. The bluenette flushed and went to ask Mlle. Mendeleiev if she could work in her classroom.

The science teacher had become Marinette's favourite teacher in the entire school, she saw through Lila's lies and did approach the brunette about them. Lila did her charm but Mlle. Mendeleiev never fell for it, merely making the liar believe she had. The science teacher never properly took proper action against the student in fear of losing her job but she did keep a folder of evidence against Lila, one that was shared with Marinette so when the time came, the bluenette would have enough evidence to fully bring the liar down. She was helpful for her teacher's help. To no surprise, Mlle. Mendeleiev allowed Marinette to do her entry for the competition in her classroom and quickly the bluenette got to work.

Miss Buster only just announced this and the school only decided to hang the flyers when the due date was five days away. Not to mention it had to be written in English, it was hard enough writing something long, let alone in another language, even though Marinette was fluent in said language. Though it was a pain, it was nothing a few dozen cups of coffee could fix. Surprisingly, Marinette managed to finish it on the second day. Though she still had to proofread it as well as make sure it all made sense. On the third day, she was confident with her letter. Adrien, Chloe, Kagami and Luka all came to read it so the bluenette would be sure it was good enough to send. Once giving their praises, she hit send. She just hoped her father-in-law thought it was good enough.

A few days later, Marinette got her answer.

She arrived early that day, surprisingly, Chloe was in the classroom waiting. "Well?" The blonde stated impatiently, Marinette titled her head in confusion.

"What?"

"The email!" Chloe shook her head as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It took a few moments for Marinette to process what her friend was saying. When she did, she jumped into her seat and opened her phone, her fingers shaky with fear and anticipation.

Dear Miss Dupain-Cheng

It's a great honor to tell you that your entry, out of the thousands that were submitted, was chosen as the winner for this competition.

As I first read through the letter you presented, I was intrigued and touched with the actions you and your classmates have done for your community. Each deed was different in it's own write and it was a great pleasure to have read through each and everyone, though, not many of your own had been written down. When you arrive at Gotham, I'd be delighted to hear your own achievements as I am sure, as proven by the way you spoke of your classmates, you have plenty of your own. I was also deeply touched at how you had a tribute to your own heroes in Paris. I was not aware before this that there were such important figureheads in the city so reading about them in your entry was fascinating to say the least. It was also a delight to read how the vigilantes of Gotham inspired you to help others.

The permission slip for the trip is attached to this email, please make sure the one in charge of your classroom has it signed for each student who wishes to attend. I'm sure you are aware that Gotham is a dangerous city and although we are taking extra security measures, it would be advised to have the class debriefed so they know what to expect in case a situation were to occur. If there are any requests or questions, please do not fail to contact me. I look forward to meeting you and your classmates when you arrive.

Congratulations once again,

Bruce Wayne

Marinette could barely hold back the tears of happiness building up in her eyes, Chloe got up and hugged the girl in celebration. Adrien came in soon after, both blondes hugged their best friend with too much force. Though it couldn't last long as the others were starting to file in.

"Class, I have some good news!" Caline Bustier announced. "We are the winning class for the WE trip to Gotham!" The class erupted into cheers, for a moment, Marinette was reminded of the simpler times when she just started out as a hero. Lila just had to ruin it.

"My sweet Damiboo!" The brunette had a hand on her heart, sighing dreamily. "I'm so lucky to have a kind, sweet and caring man as my boyfriend" The bluenette had to hold back a snort at the description, she settled with a small scoff.

Lila knew she was taking a risk a few days ago, saying that her 'Damiboo' had rigged the competition so that they could be together again but it was a calculated risk. Though she would never admit it out loud, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a great student. Marinette is well-educated, well-informed, possibly well-born and the bluenette used to be well-loved. Her winning this trip just proved it but Lila wasn't going to let the girl claim the winnings. The brunette suspected that Marinette would at least try to hint at winning, but she didn't. It was an unordinary occurrence, 'Maybe she realised she's no match for me'

"Now I need you all to signs these permission slips and return them to me by tomorrow" Caline handed out the papers and promptly left afterwards, despite having yet to do a lesson. But that didn't matter to Marinette. She was staring at her palm, her thumb stroking the fading scar.

"I can't wait to see you again, mon démon"

~~~

"Oh no" Tim muttered after taking a final sip from his third cup of coffee.

"What Replacement?"

"Take a look at this" the sleep deprived CEO turned his computer to face the other men in the room, Damian was still at school. "If she has a tragic backstory, B might go into serial adopter mode" The screen showed a file on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, including a photo of her.

"Raven hair? Check. Coloured-eyes? Check. Looks? Check. Childhood trauma and/or tragic backstory? Maybe. Holy Shit, B is definitely going to adopt her" Jason listed while Bruce sighed.

"Is there anything notable in her file?" Bruce asked, trying not to submit to his sons' accusations which were, in fact, correct. "From the letter, she seems quite fond of the supposed heroes in Paris"

"Well from the surface she looks like the average teen girl" Dick replied, peering over Tim's shoulder. "But it could all just be for show, you never know" the eldest son shrugged.

Bruce got up from where he was sitting and went to his study, using the excuse of 'work' and 'finalizing the plane tickets for the class'. In reality, he was checking for blank adoption papers. He had a gut feeling about this girl, something was going on behind the scenes.

~~~

The trio made sure they were early to enter school since Chloe said it was possible for Lila to get them, Marinette specifically, left behind. Though, they did spend some time saying goodbye to Luka and Kagami. When they arrived to school, the blonde's assumption was correct since they started to get on the bus. The troublesome class managed to get through the airport in a breeze and without any trouble, there was a bit of a miss-hap during check-in but it was all resolved in a flash.

Marinette, Chloe and Adrien were sitting in the airplane, waiting to take off. She's gotten the seats in economy with extra leg room which were a few rows ahead of the rest of the classroom using the excuse of 'a lot of class president work to do'. Bruce offered to upgrade her and the two blondes to first class so that they wouldn't be disturbed but Marinette politely turned it down. She didn't mind where she was as long as she wasn't near the class, and the mention of first class was bound to cause an uproar.

The bluenette's inner child wanted the window seat, Adrien wanted to be in the seat next to the aisle so he could get first glimpse at the food they were serving, Chloe just wanted to be in the middle for warmth. The seating arrangement worked perfectly. Every once in a while, a flight attendant would drop by to offer food and drinks. There were a few times that flight attendants would ask for one of the three to remind the class of the rules when they didn't listen to the cabin staff, Adrien dealt with the situation since he was the only one they'd actually listen too.

Soon, they landed. The flight had been an easy one since they didn't have to deal with the class's shenanigans while they were in the air. However, that luxury had left when they exited the aircraft.

When traversing through the airport, there had been attempts to get the bluenette lost and attempts to trip her up or gain a significantly bad injury. All attempts failed. Marinette, Chloe and Adrien had managed to weave through passport control peacefully. Even when they were at the baggage claim, not many big efforts were made, besides the classic hiding of the luggage, to rid Marinette of anything. She should've found that suspicious but she was much too tired to care, she barely slept at all on the flight. So when they arrived at the hotel, the first thing she did was lie flat on the bed.

Marinette slept well over nine hours before she woke up. "Tikki, what time is it?"

The kwami too was asleep so at the mention of her name, she yawned. "It's 9:45 am"

"Oh my kwami!" Marinette shot up out of bed to check her phone. Sure enough, there where many notifications of miss calls from Adrien, Chloe, Alix and even Nino. The bus was scheduled to leave at 10:00 but knowing Lila, she was probably over an hour late. The bluenette quickly got changed, brushed her teeth and headed straight towards the hotel doors, ignoring any feeling of hunger.

She pulled her phone out for the directions of Wayne Enterprises and kept her eyes on the screen, completely ignoring the fact that there was someone in the distance directly in her path.

~~~

Jonathan Kent was walking through the streets of Gotham, looking for a present for his best friend. His birthday was in a few days time and the superboy still hadn't found anything. He went to some art shops. Nothing. He went to some antique shops. Still Nothing. He even went to look at kitchen knives. He was that desperate. Jon sighed and continued walking, some shop was bound to peak his interest eventually.

All of a sudden, he heard someone running towards his general direction. Before he could register what was happening, the person ran into him, nearly knocking him down completely.

"Je suis désolé!" A feminine voice shouted out in French. "I-I'm so sorry monsieur!"

Jon then looked up to see a small French bluenette offering her hand to help him up. He gladly took it and when he was back on his feet, he readjusted his glasses to look at the girl properly. She was short, pretty and resembled a Wayne. While this girl was panicking and apologizing profusely, Jon was excited thinking he found a new friend. Though, this excitement didn't last when he saw the state she was in. 'Her bones are a mess! How is she not screaming in pain?'

He waved his hands in front of the girl to get her to stop. "It's fine honestly!" The girl seemed to calm slightly but her face was still worried. "Why you in such a rush anyway?"

"My class and I are visiting on a trip" the bluenette started. "We're supposed to be on our way to a tour but they left me behind"

"They left you all alone? In Gotham?" Jon questioned, 'What kind of stupid are these people?'

"I know right? They-" she was cut off by a notification sound on her phone. "Sorry just a minute"

Jon only then realised how good this French girl's English was. She then let out a sigh of relief and put the phone back in her purse, the blue-eyed boy tried not to use his powers to invade her privacy.

"They're very early, the tour starts in an hour and from the map I'm not far from where I'm meant to be, thank kwami" The young Kent froze at the girl's choice of words, Damian had mentioned that his wife had a companion called a 'kwami'. This couldn't be a coincidence.

"Well since you have time," Jon got the girl's attention. "How do you feel about getting some food? I don't know about you but I'm starving."

"Oh, n-no I could possibly impose-" her stomach grumbled cutting her off. Jon chuckled as he heard the girl whisper profanities.

"Come on I know a place not far from here, you can get a very good few of the WE building" He heard the girl's heart rate speed up a bit, that confirmed where her planned class trip was taking place. He gestured for her to follow him as he sped walked to the location.

When they arrived, they both ordered, Jon ordered a burger while Marinette ordered a cinnamon bun, and sat down. The blue-eyed boy noticed how the girl would always have her thumb in her other palm. He thought her finger could've been resting on a scar similar to Damian's, if she was his wife of course. He decided to test his luck.

"Oh sorry, I forgot to introduce myself" he reached his hand over the table. "My name's Jon Kent" He watched as her eyes widened in recognition and how her heartbeat quickened. "I believe you're Marinette, right?"

Marinette's eyes developed a watery sheen. "Dami's talked about me?"

'Bingo!'

"He talks to me about you every chance he gets" Jon shook the hand Marinette offered and turned it so her palm faced the ceiling. On it was a scar more or less identical to he best friend's. "Whenever he got nervous, sad or overwhelmed, he'd always trace the scar on his hand. I can tell he's thinking of you whenever he does it"

Marinette let a few tears of joy run down her cheek before wiping them away. "S-sorry I'm not usually this emotional" she chuckled. "It's just- I didn't know how to contact Damian and even if I did, I probably couldn't bring myself to talk to him. I thought he hated me for leaving him alone at the League"

Jon snorted. "Him? Hate you? Please, he views you like your his entire world! He was afraid that you hated him! He's drowning in guilt for not being able to get you out of there."

The bluenette sniffed. "Really?" Jon nodded. "C-can I see him again?"

"I don't know where he is right now" Marinette deflated slightly at his words. "But you can definitely meet him! I feel selfish to ask but is it okay for you to wait two days?"

"I've waited many months, a few days is no problem. May I ask why?"

"Well you see his birthday is in a few days and I haven't been able to find him a good gift so... I thought having you two reunited would be a good present" Jon answered, the smile he received was almost blinding.

"That's so sweet of you!" Jon understood how Damian fell for this girl. If sunshine was a person, she would be it.

"So can I see this kwami of yours?" Marinette was confused at how he knew but then she realised that Damian must've told him everything, not that she didn't mind though. "I mean, see it properly?"

"X-ray vision, I should've known" the blue-eyed girl giggled when the boy blinked in surprise. She opened her purse and a red blob flew out. Though it was mostly hidden by Marinette's body, Jon could still see it clearly. He had to cover his mouth to avoid shouting in astonishment. "Jon this is Tikki, my kwami"

"Nice to meet you, son of Superman" Tikki squeaked and Jon's eyes widened in awe as he reached to touch the small creature.

"Wow, you're adorable!" The young boy cooed as the creature giggled.

Marinette wanted the two to interact more but one look at the time told her otherwise. She said goodbye to Damian's best friend and made her way to Wayne Enterprises.

~~~

Despite reading of all the good deeds, the French class were really getting under Dick's skin. First of all, a sausage-hair girl had nearly every student wrapped around her finger, telling stories that were way too good to be true. Secondly, the incompetent teacher didn't bother to control her students, she merely looked at her phone, waving off any students who had questions. And thirdly, they had arrived way too early. The only reasonable looking students that weren't crowding around the brunette were two blondes, one male and one female, and a short skater girl. The only emotions on their face were either anger, annoyance or anxiousness.

When the time for the tour to start was nearing, Dick asked for the teacher to do a headcount. He already knew how many were supposed to be there as he was given a specific amount of badges. There were fifteen in total, not including the teacher. From what he counted, there were only fourteen students, this was confirmed when the teacher's counting stopped at 'Quatorze'. Dick realised it was the class president that wasn't there, he started looking around the main lobby. What really pissed him off was the fact that no one seemed to care that she was left behind, in Gotham for God's sake!

"Have you found her?" A voice from behind Dick asked. It was the blonde boy. "Marinette?"

"No I haven't, the tour starts in seven minutes-" The man cut himself off when someone walked through the lobby doors. She looked to be part of the class. The young bluenette's hair seemed to be ruffled as if she was running for a long time. Dick took a closer look and she was indeed the girl from the file. Determining to know why she was last to arrive, he went to greet her. "Hello, my name is Dick Grayson and I'll be your class's tour guide today"

He didn't fail to notice how her eyes widened in recognition as she took his offered hand and shook it. "Hello Monsieur Dick, I'm Marinette Dupain-Cheng though I suppose you already know..." her voice trailed off as her eyes lingered to somewhere else in the room before meeting back with his. "I'm really sorry about my lateness"

Dick held one hand to stop her from continuing. "It's fine, the tour starts in three minutes so you got here right on time" The eldest watched Marinette let out a sigh of relief. "I am curious, how come you were last to arrive?"

"Ah well the... bus left early because of something that came up and I wasn't aware of the changes so I got left behind" The bluenette noticed the older man's shocked and angered expression and blurted out, "But I'm here now!"

After some time he nodded and gave Marinette her badge. He then proceeded to gather the class and tell them all the rules and regulations. Soon the tour was under way.

~~~

"So how are the French class, Dildo?" Jason's snarky voice echoed in the manor as Dick entered. What they didn't expect was to be met with a seething Dick.

"Most of them are really horrible, the sausage hair and the glasses girl are the worst. They weren't bad to me though, only to the class president who is, actually, a literal angel" The eldest huffed. "They kept sliding in mean comments about her here and there, it was disgusting. The worst part is, she acts as if they do this regularly! You should've seen the way her eyes dulled as she got on the bus with that... that class!"

"That bad huh?" Jason asked.

The eldest son nodded. "Bruce is definitely gonna want to adopt her the moment he's in the same room as her"

Jason hummed. "I'd like to meet this girl your talking about, I'll ask B if I can join next tour as security. In the mean time, bet fifty I get the best gift for the Demon Brat"

Dick let out a overly exaggerated gasp of offense while laying a hand on his chest. "No way! I bet a hundred!"

~~~

The next day was the day of the next tour, Jason tagged along this time. Luckily, Marinette was on the bus when the class arrived but she wasn't looking too good.

"God, she looks exhausted and starved to death!" Jason muttered into Dick's ear. He nodded and walked over to greet the class.

"Welcome back to your second tour! Today, Jason"- Dick gestured towards the man with two-toned hair- "will be joining us today. As an extra security measure. Now, follow me please!" The eldest son began the tour with half-filled enthusiasm, this was Jason's queue to go to the back and interact with the class president.

The man stayed near the back, not making it obvious he was trying to start a conversation with the girl, when he heard the brunette at the front spewing lies. Jason hadn't spoken French in a while but he could still understand the language.

"You don't actually believe what she's saying do you?" Jason asked the young girl. She snorted in response.

"Of course not, only an idiot would believe the words that come out of her rotten excuse of a mouth. They aren't even that good" The older man laughed and the girl's eyes widened. "S-sorry! I don't usually think before I talk when I'm tired"

"No no, you have a point" Jason held his hand up, as much as he could considering her height compared to his own, to the small girl. "The name's Jason Todd"

The bluenette smiled and took his hand. "Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng..." Marinette trailed off on her last name, 'Is that not her last name? The files are always correct so maybe... she's not proud of her name?' "So what's the real reason why you joined the tour today?"

Jason was impressed as she expertly diverted the spotlight of the conversation onto himself. "For extra security"

Marinette gave the older man an unimpressed look. "I deal with that liar all the time, Jason" He blinked before the girl was smiling once more. "You can't lie to me Jay" she said in a sing-song voice.

The older man jokingly sighed and ruffled her hair. "Well since you asked so kindly, Dickhead over there-" he nodded his head in the direction of his older brother- "noticed how most of your classmates are treating you. That was probably the most pissed I've seen him in a long time. So I wanted to see which little lady was able to cause an overprotective spark in him, now I completely understand why he felt that way"

The girl then sniffed and smiled at Jason sadly. "I...Thank you" she whispered to the man with two-toned hair. "It's been a long time since someone other than my friends have said that they were worried about me"

Jason's smile faltered before it turned into a sad but encouraging one. "Hey, Dick and I are here if you ever need someone to talk to. Wait-" Jason's attention diverted to the blonde boy in the room, the one that was originally hanging out with the small girl. "Hey isn't that your friend?"

Marinette turned in the direction Jason was looking at, there was Lila who was on the arm of a very uncomfortable looking Adrien. The bluenette sighed. "Yeah he is. If you're wondering why he's with the liar is because of his father. You see, back in Paris he's quite famous so his father can be overbearing. I odn't know what the liar said to him but now he wants Adrien to keep the girl happy at all costs"

"Can't he just disobey the old man?"

"He did try but the punishment was for him to be home-schooled which he has been more or less his entire life. But I guess it's gotten better since before Adrien didn't want to call out her lies since he thought they weren't hurting anyone"

Jason scoffed. "Her lies definitely hurt those involved"

"Exactly, luckily he managed to realise that after he overheard one of Lie-la's confrontations. He tries his best to sugarcoat his words when he's calling her out but he still hates conflict. He's just with her so she doesn't turn into an akuma. Not that it's working since she's already been akumatized more than seven times"

"Sorry, akuma what-a?"

Marinette shot him a confused look before her eyes widened slightly in realisation. "I can explain at lunch"

Jason seemed hesitant but nodded anyway.

~~~

Marinette grabbed her food tray, narrowly avoided all the feet that tried to trip her up and sat at an empty lunch table.

"Hi, Mari!" Dick's cheerful voice made his presence known as he sat next to her, lunch tray in hand. "So has Jason been good?"

"Yeah! It's nice to have someone to talk to-"

She was interrupted by Jason slamming his lunch tray on the table, sitting opposite Marinette. "Alright Pixie Pop, explain what an Akuma Matata is"

"Pixie Pop?" The bluenette giggled.

"Akuma whata?" The eldest asked.

"Pixie Pop because you're small and feisty. As for the Akuma thing, Pixie will kindly explain right now" Jason replied, eager to know what an Akuma is.

"Well-"

"I did not have enough coffee for this" A new voice spoke up from behind Marinette. The person it belonged to sit next to Jason, coffee cup in hand and slammed his face on the table.

"That's Tim, our younger brother" Dick answered the bluenette's unasked question. Tim's head looked up as if he just registered that there was someone else on the table.

Her reached his hand across the table with as much energy as a sleep-deprived zombie could give. "Tim Drake"

"Marinette" she returned the hand shake. 'I'm right, these are Dami's brothers' "So like I was saying, an akuma is like a butterfly infused with magic. When it comes in contact with an inanimate object that is being touched by someone who's experiencing strong negative emotions, it turns them into an akuma villain. " She paused so that the men at the table could process what she was saying. "Hawkmoth is the one who sends the akumas, once the connection is made they have no choice but to obey. Even if they try to fight him off, they all succumb eventually."

"So a magic butterfly man, got it"

"When you put it that way, it doesn't sound believable" Marinette giggled at Jason's conclusion.

"What kind of negative emotions does it have to be? Are the Akumas... dangerous?" Dick asked, clearly more concerned that his younger brother.

The bluenette's eyes seemed to age at his statement. "Humiliation, depression, rejection, isolation, anything that makes you feel disheartened really. As for how dangerous there are well... there are different levels to classify each akuma"

All three gestured for her to continue.

"Some are low level, level one, like Mr Pidgeon-" She here's a scoff but continued as if she wasn't interrupted. "- he's a regular but relatively harmless. The highest level is an akuma like Syren" she shuddered at the memory, "Her powers allowed her to flood the entirety of Paris, drowning nearly half of the entire population"

"H-how did this not make international news" Tim asked, bringing his laptop out and furiously typing, though, receiving no results for what the girl just said.

"That would be courtesy of our heroes. One of Ladybug's powers is to heal anything damaged by the powers of the miraculous, she can fix objects, buildings and even resurrect those who died. She can't get rid of the memories unfortunately" She said the last part bitterly, disappointed in herself for not being able to help her citizens.

"What's a miraculous?" Jason asked, trying to change the subject.

"Magical jewelry basically, its what gives the heroes their powers. Its also what Hawkmoth wants, the Ladybug Miraculous and the Miraculous of the Black Cat" she put a finger on her chin to mimic thinking like a civilian. "My best guess is that if he gets the miraculous, he becomes very powerful"

"Have you ever, you know... died?" Dick asked, concern weighing heavily in his voice.

"No, I'm I guess one of the 'lucky few' to not have been killed yet."

They soon conversed in the topic of Hawkmoth and Mayura, each one of the men despised the villains at the end of her rant. All too soon, it was time to leave. She waved goodbye and rushed with her class back to the hotel. Once she reached her room, the bluenette rummaged through her suitcases, ignoring a confused Chloe. Once she found the outfit she wanted to wear, Marinette placed it onto her nightstand.

"I met Jon today"

"Whose he?" Chloe voiced her confusion.

"Jon is Damian's best friend" The bluenette reiterated. "He's bringing me with him to the manor so that we can see each other again"

"That's nice of him"

"To be honest, I think you and Jon would hit it off quite well"

Marinette stifled a giggle when she heard Chloe's signature 'Ridiculous, utterly ridiculous'. The bluenette fell onto her bed, she was going to get as much sleep as she could with her bubbling excitement.

~~~

The bluenette stared at her reflection. She wore a deep velvet, off-the-shoulder blouse with a black cotton skirt, her hair was tied up in an intricate design. Even with the compliments her two best friends kept showering her with, Marinette didn't feel ready. She would be meeting her husband after nearly a year long separation, of course she was a nervous wreck.

After some light encouragement from both Chloe and Adrien, Marinette went down the stairs to the lobby where Jon would be picking her up. It was delightful to see how far the boy was willing to go to make his best friend happy, it reminded Marinette of her friendship with Chloe, Adrien, Kagami and Luka. Upon reaching the lobby, she noticed the blue-eyed boy and briskly walked over.

"Hey Jon" she greeted the boy, he probably knew she was already there thanks to his powers.

"Hi Mari!- Wow! You look nice. I swear Dami's gonna fall for you all over again" Jon compliment made Marinette have an serge of pride. "Come on let's go! My father and Damian's family are waiting for me well, us really"

"Okay, how are we supposed to get there?" Marinette's question ignited a cheeky smile on the sunshine boy's face.

"Have you ever flown before?"

~~~

Clark Kent was at Wayne Manor, celebrating his best friend's son's birthday, who just also so happens to be best friends with his own son. 'That was too confusing for my own good'. He, along with Bruce and the others, have already given Damian his gifts. Jon insisted that he had the best present so he would go last.

"Since I'm his best friend, I have the best gift meaning that I should go last"

While waiting for his son to arrive, Mar'i gave Damian a piece of art that she made and he went up to his room to find a frame. In this moment, most of the occupants in the room turned to him.

"Have you heard Jon yet? I'd like to see what this 'present' is." Dick questioned first, Clark tilted his head but he didn't hear his son at all. He opened his mouth to answer before promptly closing it shut, Jon had just landed in the garden and was making his way inside, by them Damian and Mar'i had returned.

"Hello my very bestest friend! Happy happy birthday to you!" Jon tackled Damian in a hug before quickly pulling back as to not get pushed off. "It is time to present my gift to you!"

Damian's brothers perked up, they had bet on whether or not Jon was true to his present being the best, Dick voted for while Jason and Tim voted against.

"But no one other than Damian is allowed to see the present" Without seeing what their reaction to his statement was, Jon dragged Damian outside. The brothers huffed before running upstairs, Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing and followed his sons onto the upper floor window with Clark close behind. Clark knew that Bruce was just as curious as his boys, he just hid it very well. When they made it to the window, they saw Jon telling Damian to sit on one of the garden's benches with his eyes closed.

"Is this really necessary?" They heard Damian's unamused voice. Upon hearing Jon's confirmation, Damian sighed and closed his eyes. The adults watched as Jon went off to somewhere out of their vision.

~~~

"Yep!"

Jon's voice echoed through the garden, hitting Marinette with the realisation that her and her husband would be reunited. A flurry of emotions dawned in her head. First nervousness, then excitement and finally, anticipation. She had gotten so caught up that she barely noticed the blue-eyed boy bounding up towards her. He gave her an encouraging smile before gesturing for the bluenette to follow him. Sensing her anxious hesitation, he gently took her wrist and pulled the girl towards the green-eyes boy, who was still sitting on the bench with his hands over his eyes.

'Here goes nothing'

~~~

He'd heard Jon's footsteps scurry away around a minute ago, he didn't know why but he tingled with anticipation when he heard his self-proclaimed best friend return. Though as soon as Damian heard the boy return, he immediately ran off to god knows where. But before the confusion settled in, he was hit with the familiar scent of vanilla and cherry blossoms, the scent he thought he'd never have the privilege to come across again. Damian's head shot up to face the beautiful bluenette he had the honor of calling his wife. The voice to whom the aroma belonged to spoke.

"You know, you really should've told me when your birthday was. I could've made you a gift..." Her voice, though barely above a whisper, was as loud as needed for Damian, her voice trailed off as the tears in her eyes built up.

Without at a moment's hesitation, the bluenette was soon spun in the air with the end result being engulfed in her husband's arms. "Having you in my arms again is the best gift I could have asked for"

Marinette couldn't hold back the tears of pure euphoria that rolled down her cheeks. Damian had noticed Jon spectating form the side, radiating excitement like a puppy, but he paid no attention to his self-proclaimed best friend. All that mattered was they were together once more.

The way fate had designed.

———

Bonus:

Dick: hang on he's coming back with, mARINETTE?!

Jason: WHaT?! How does the brat know her?!

Tim: what are they saying, Clark?

Clark: *smiling while wiping a fake tear of happiness* how sweet

Dick: im confused

*batfam (and clark)* run down the stairs and go outside to see Jon nearly combusting in joy*

Jon: *turns to the fam* told you I'd get the best gift

Jason: okay demon brat tell me how you know pixie pop!

Damian: *turns to face jason with an unimpressed look with mari snuggled under his chin* she's my wife

Batfam: *exe.batfamily has stopped working*

Dick: WHAT :D?!

Jason: WHAT THE FU-

Tim: WHAT

Bruce: *whispers* there goes the adoption papers

Bruce: well it's a pleasure to meet my daughter-in-law in person, but how did you end up getting married in the first place?

Damian and Marinette: *look at each other* Mother/ His mother

Bruce: *sighs*

Jason: okay let me go get my guns to murder that sausage-haired girl

Damian: todd no

Jason: *whips around, confused* wh-

Damian: i want to be the one to spill some Italian blood

Jason: *evilly grins*

Bruce and Marinette: nO KILLING-

[remnant-roses]

Rosegarden Week Day 4: After the War

A fic idea I had during the mid-season hiatus, but didn’t have time to write, but now it fits the prompt so...

I meant this to be a one-shot but it’s past 1 am and I need to sleeeep so now it’s a two-shot and I’ll post the second half Friday.

________________________

“I think I’m... done.”

He’d expected them to argue, to try and convince him to stay. But standing before them, his small frame battered, bloody, and broken, they averted their eyes. Even Ozpin remained quiet.

He’d kept their secrets, prevented Salem from using the relic, endured torment for their sakes. He’d suffered for them. He’d had to take lives for them. And it had shattered him. He felt hollow.

He just wanted to go home.

And they let him.

He allowed Ozpin to take over, to tell them the last things they’d need to know about the vaults, the relics, the war to save humanity.

And when the dust settled in Atlas, when the refugees poured out into the other kingdoms, he went with them, just one more body, lost among the masses.

He didn’t even tell them goodbye. But even through the numbness that gripped his soul, he felt a sting of regret when he thought of her face, silver eyes brimming with tears.

______________________

Just don’t... ever talk to me again. Just let me be normal. Please, he told Ozpin as he boarded the train that would take him back home.

There was no reply, but the guilt and sorrow that radiated off of that other inside of him was answer enough.

Ozpin would let him abdicate, even in the height of this conflict. Even when it looked like humanity was balanced on a knife’s edge.

Let this war pass him by. They could fight it without him. And if they couldn’t win, in time, the burden would roll on to his next incarnation. But Oscar... he’d given all he could. He didn’t have anything left.

______________________

He knocked on the farmhouse door, and felt like a stranger even on his own doorstep.

His aunt cried, off and on, for days after his return. First tears of relief, of joy, and then tears of worry and grief, and then of frustration and anger.

He understood. He wasn’t her son, but she had raised him, loved him, and he’d left her all alone here.

He told her what he could. Not everything, not even much. But enough to make her understand why he’d left - the voice in his head, the war for humanity. She’d seen the broadcast in that brief moment that global communications had been reestablished. She could grasp the basics - that he’d been caught up in a conflict for the fate of the world, and that it had chewed him up and spit him out. Left him broken.

He couldn’t bear to tell her any more, dreaded the inevitable probing questions, but then she surprised him.

She understood. She gave him space to think, to heal, in his own time.

And he loved her for it.

_________________________

It was seven weeks before his wounds closed fully.

The scar tissue pulled at his skin as he threw himself into the work of maintaining a farm, like a waking manifestation of the pain that still haunted his dreams and left him gasping for air when he woke.

He ignored it with a resolute determination, letting himself get lost in the monotony of tilling and plowing and tending livestock. It was backbreaking work, but he welcomed even the pain. It filled the empty hollows of his mind and left no room for reflection... or memories too painful to bear.

To think, he’d once resented the repetitive nature of work on the farm. He’d dreamed of adventure, of new and exciting vistas, of being important.

If only he’d known.

But at nights, he’d climb onto the roof of the barn and stare at the sky and think of a girl with eyes like moonlight, and wonder.

Was she still fighting? Was she even still alive?

Did I make the right choice?

__________________________

The seasons came and went, and war did not come to the fields of Mistral. Nothing of interest had ever happened here.

_________________________

It was 11 months since his return, when the CCT system came back online.

He hadn’t noticed right away. He’d been working in the fields, and there was no point in taking a Scroll out there when it had no signal.

But as he walked in the house that evening, he was greeted by the sound of tinny, faraway voices pouring out of his aunt’s living room, and then...

There she was, on the screen, her red cape and pale skin washed with blue in the light of the projection. Her hair was a little longer, her eyes a little sadder, but it was her.

She was saying something about the CCT, how exactly they’d managed to restore it, but the words wouldn’t process, they swam in his head until it was just noise. There was only one thought that mattered.

She’s alive.

“Isn’t it wonderful, Oscar,” his aunt was saying, “the world can talk to each other again...”

It was then she noticed the white-knuckled grip he had on the back of the sofa, and the tears streaming silently down his face.

He told her that night, told her everything. About RWBY and JNR, about the attack at Haven, about a drunk old crow, about crashed trains and snowstorms, about the fall of Atlas.

About the belly of a great black beast, and the torture he’d suffered at the hands of humanity’s greatest enemy. About the hollowness he’d felt when he left, and the crushing guilt that had slowly come to replace it.

She cried, and he cried, and she held him, and in the background, news reports played clips of familiar faces on repeat. Still out there, doing their best, without him.

There was one thing he left out - no need to tell his aunt about silver eyes and a kind smile, about how much it hurt to know that he’d left her behind, specifically.

That much, at least, was still his own.

He still watched the night sky, but now the questions he asked himself had changed.

Do they hate me for leaving?

________________________

He only heard from Ozpin twice in his time at the farm.

Once, about a month after the CCT was restored, when a Grimm had nearly gotten the drop on him.

Behind you, Oscar.

The voice was gone as quickly as it had come, without even an apology for breaking his pact of silence. But it had given him just enough time to see the Beowulf coming, to get his pitchfork up to block the jagged teeth as it lunged.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to dispatch it, even though it was merely a single beast, even though just 10 months before, he, or any one of his companions, could have killed it in mere seconds.

He was rusty.

And he was letting himself wallow, something every Remnant child was cautioned against. Hell, he’d probably drawn the Grimm in with his own guilt and self-pity.

He took up training again after that, practicing against hay bales and scarecrows in the early mornings before his daily duties began.

He wasn’t going to let himself be a beacon of despair. He wasn’t going to endanger his aunt, or himself, like that.

_______________________

It was a year and nine months after his return, the second time Ozpin spoke to him.

He was at the feed store, loading bags of dried corn into his aunt’s beat-up truck for the chickens, when Ozpin uttered a single word:

Oh.

And then he was gone.

Not gone in the way he’d been for the past two years, where Oscar had always been aware of a silent presence in the deepest corners of his mind. But fully, completely gone.

Oscar expected the sky to rip open, for people to scream, to cry, for something, anything, to look different. He pulled out his Scroll, checked the news. Nothing.

Something had happened. But life continued around him, unchanged. The clerk at the feed store gave him a funny look. He was blocking the loading bay.

He drove home in a daze, tears blurring his vision, and told his aunt to turn on the TV.

It took three hours for the news reports to start rolling in. Humanity’s greatest enemy, defeated. Faunus and human together, standing united. A mysterious silver light seen in a ruined continent to the west.

He and his aunt watched the footage in silence for hours, and he found himself searching for a red cape, for a mop of long blonde hair, any hint of what might have truly transpired.

When he climbed on the barn roof to watch the night sky that evening, his questions had changed once again.

They’d done it.

But what had become of them?

Of her?

 (to be continued)

[fairestwriting]

title: piece of my world

word count: 1562

summary: Phoebe shuts off the game before she goes to bed, but it doesn’t seem to end there.

commissioned by @invaderphoeb ! hope you enjoyed it and thanks so much for the support <3 also available on ao3 here !

guidelines for commissions are here, in case anyone else is interested

That game had an interesting prologue.

Phoebe chuckles when she switches the phone off, letting her face meet the mattress for a second, smiling. She had fun with it, there were more chapters to look into later, but for now the prologue would have to be enough — It was that long already, all of its parts stretching far into the night.

She yawns, turning around on the bed, now laying on her back instead of her stomach. It had been her friend’s idea to have her play it, knowing her love for Disney movies and its villains, and she’s grateful for the recommendation. It had been a fun night.

But naturally, everything needs to come to an end, and this far into the night, Phoebe really needed to get some sleep.

Hopping off the bed, they leave their phone on the nightstand and dig into their closet for a couple moments before retrieving their favorite pajama set, changing without thinking about much of anything. They hang the clothes they’d been wearing previously on the chair near the desk, then get under the covers, snuggling up until they’re comfortable.

Pip, their dear teddy bear, had been resting on the nightstand, next to the phone, but soon enough it’s in their arms again, squeezed tightly as they nuzzled it with a small smile.

It’s funny seeing how the personalities of the villains translated into these characters, how they held that sort of familiarity she felt when she watched the movies, but turned into something new and refreshing. She didn’t know exactly who was who yet, just a handful of scattered names her friend had mentioned to her, but seeing some elements on the character’s designs, she had a couple of guesses here and there.

It was an interesting game, really. Phoebe was excited to play some more in the morning, she thinks, and drowsiness began to cloud her mind.

That cat, Grim, with his blue flames a boasting, prideful dialogue, and the headmaster Dire Crowley, with that mask and flashy blue clothing, stay in her mind for a bit. Kind of like they’re staring at him through water, Phoebe sinks into the pool of her thoughts, slowly fading away as sleep takes over, and they don’t leave.

What a funny game. She wonders which characters she’d get to know in chapter one — Which villains were personified there, and how. Crowley’s words, in that specific tone of voice he had, echo along incomprehensibly, and she thinks of this one red haired boy who had chased after Grim in the story.

In Phoebe’s blurred vision, he’s running like that, in those robes. She wonders where he was headed, briefly.

. . .

“What happened here?”

“Where the hell did this come from… who is this person?”

“Are they conscious? Everyone, step away…!”

The world blurs and unblurs, everything darkened with the still not faded unconsciousness of Phoebe’s brain — Not many thoughts run through her mind, is she dreaming? The place around her can barely be seen, but it doesn’t look like her room.

No, it doesn’t look like her room at all.

It’s purple all around, odd lighting comes from a chandelier and hanging lamp lights in a sort of lavender or reddish tone. There are windows on the walls, decorated with intricate framing that looped in all sorts of arabesque-like designs, long dark purplish curtains covering their corners, mirrors all around.

Near those walls, coffins floating ominously, emanating glow from a circle on their very centers that kept fading in and out, with all those people around him too, Phoebe notes vaguely, but he can barely move. He feels something poking at him, first at his wrist, then on his face—

“What are you doing? Don’t touch them like this, or it’ll be off with your head…!”

What…? Phoebe tries to open his eyes, but it’s difficult. The voice is eerily, slightly familiar, the line definitely so, taking her way back to watching the classic Alice in Wonderland in a rainy night, curled up in blankets and holding her—

The teddy bear. Where was it?

“Oi, it looks like they’re waking up…” A rougher, deeper voice comes into play after a couple of steps, Phoebe still can’t see right, but she knows there’s a man looming over her, intense eyes that stand out between darker skin and hair.

Her vision unblurs slightly, for a moment. She sees the slash of the scar across his eye.

“This looks strange…” A faraway mutter by an analytical voice, quiet yet it calls for Phoebe’s attention, she sees another tan man on the borders of the crowd, long hair cascading over his shoulder. A shorter one with white hair and red eyes standing by his side. “Kalim, stand behind.” He says, it comes out commanding, misplaced when it came to the image he got through

“Ehh, Jade, what’s going on? Did the entrance ceremony just get interesting?” Another faraway sound, a giggle among many other mutters.

“Mm, it seems so, Floyd.”

Blur again, but it doesn’t last too long before it leaves again, and the faint shapes of other people come back into Phoebe’s field of vision. The voices around Phoebe don’t stop talking, gawking at them like they’re some sort of lab rat to be experimented on, they want to stand up and tell them to back off, to ask where the hell they are, what sort of dream is this? But they can’t move at all, every limb feeling like it’s been cemented onto the floor.

Despite the way their eyes kept darting around, not even their lids could stay fully open—

“What the hell is that…” Someone else is giggling, leaning forwards, a sly smile with orange hair and red eyes.

“Shush, you’re gonna get into trouble, and we didn’t even get sorted yet..!” A person nearby, short dark hair and eyes of the same color, scolds them.

Phoebe is mostly trying to move. Wiggling fingers or toes, squirming, but it’s like they’re trapped into their own body, fading in and out of consciousness, only one foot into the bizarre dream, and the other…

“Has the headmaster not said he’d check where that person came from?” The voice near the one Phoebe could link the name Floyd to asks, just a tad closer, had he taken a couple steps towards them? “I don’t believe I see him anywhere.”

“Super weird, huh. I like it.” That Floyd drawls, sounding just on the edge of a giggle. “Hey, Jade, d’you think they’re from anywhere we know? Maybe some first year who just passed out here?”

“What are you… you two, get away from them, what excuse would you tell if they found you hovering over an unconscious body?” A new, unfamiliar voice perks up. Looking around drowsily, Phoebe finds the source of that duo, two tall teal-haired young men, a third, smaller and silver-haired one popping up between them through the crowd. “Keep away. This is not our problem to solve—”

“Eh, but Azul likes getting up on other people’s businesses, doesn’t he.” Floyd laughs.

“Now’s not the time for this!” A new voice scolds — the boy who’d said that familiar phrase, off with your head, she finds out he’d been small, red haired, and…

Realization hits even through the haze. Was that the game’s prologue?

“Really, where is that headmaster…”

“You know you can’t trust that guy, all he cares about is…”

“But it’s more interesting like this, right? Entrance ceremonies are so boring…”

Murmurs and more murmurs around them. Phoebe resigns herself to the dream. Maybe she’d wake up. Maybe she’d tell her friend about it tomorrow morning, laughing about how easily the game had trickled into her head, turning into this weird frenzied fantasy.

Because it wasn’t real, right? There’s no way something like this could be!

“Silence!” Another voice — One easily recognized, even before the eye-catching figure of a man in flashy garments and a bird mask steps in hurriedly. It’s that headmaster Crowley, his eyes glowing slightly in the dim light. “Don’t crowd around the unconscious person like this—”

“But do you know where they come from?” The scarred man with a deeper voice says, but takes a step back anyway. The headmaster looks around, frantic.

“Of course! Of course I do, perhaps they’re a student, just…”

“Is that… is that teddy bear glowing?”

The headmaster gasps, Phoebe feels a spark of energy hitting her mind again — Her teddy, she pleads in the back of her mind, trying to move, to look around, and she finally sees Pip, laying right next to her, who would now, but a soft glow emanates from the plush of its body. Phoebe’s efforts go towards stretching her arms to grab it, just hold it again, but it’s still impossible.

“This doesn’t look good.” The headmaster says in an uncharacteristic, quiet voice. “Students! Kindly do step back, I’ll be taking them to the infirmary?”

“But are they a student?” The bossy red-haired boy questions. “Headmaster?”

The voices begin to melt and muddle together like ingredients stirred into the same strange syrup — Phoebe sees glowing eyes through a mask very clearly as her body is picked up, internally panicking before the teddy bear is also taken from the floor and placed within her arms.

It doesn’t take too long for everything to go black again.

[sakuratragedy]

Emperors Consort | Chapter 2

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairing: Zhongli / Childe, #Zhongchi Tags: R18, A/B/O Dynamics, Royalty AU Summary: aka "Emperor's consort doesn't know the difference between being a concubine and being a consort" Tsaritsa wants her child to have a good life after serving her on the battlefield for so long, so she makes a deal with an old friend. In exchange for her military might, he will marry her son. Childe who has no formal omega training has to do his best to cover up the fact he has no idea what he's doing. Do your best to be a good omega Childe!

He remembers the familiar ache in his back and knot in his shoulders from the last time he travelled from the mother country to Liyue. The arrival at the harbour was busy per usual. The sounds of Liutian and foreigners alike moving around the harbour, the voices that speak of trades and exchange greetings merge together creating a mess of noise. His fellow Fatui agents unloading the luggage they brought (limited to a single case per person), dressed in their fatui garb ready to split ways after unloading and receiving orders from the youngest Harbinger.

Tartaglia dressed in his civilian clothing and did a quick scan of the harbour. It didn’t look like much had changed much over the years he had been away. He had been wearing his Harbinger uniform up until he could see the outline of the harbour from the ship, before remembering he was not there for a quick mission.

He was there to potentially get mated (and possibly married).

“I’m sure you know what to do.” Childe says without having to turn to look at his agents, but he knows they were listening. “Independent action until necessary, don’t cause any trouble that I can’t get you out of.” He glanced over his shoulder to watch his agents nod at him. Usually they would disappear by now, going their own separate directions but they stood there behind him. Childe raised his brow when he still felt their presence behind him and fully turned to them.

“Speak.”

“Sir, are you truly going to become the emperor’s omega?” He recalls her name, Ekaterina, who was there during his last stay in Liyue years ago.

“It’s part of Tsaritsa's deal with the emperor. Who am I to disobey her?”

“What about your position as a Harbinger, sir?” a skirmisher asks, timidly rubbing the back of his head for speaking so boldly to his superior. Childe gave a half-glare at the taller male before he rolled his eyes.

“I’m still a Harbinger. This ‘mating with the emperor’ shit isn’t solid.” He does air quotations with his fingers. “What is important right now is the mission. If you find out what the emperor's big dilemma is before I do, please relay it back to me.” His agents clung to every word he uttered as if he spoke the gospel, memorising it down to each syllable to avoid missing anything and honestly, he loved it.

Surely this ‘mating and marriage’ could turn optional if he finishes the mission earlier than intended. Childe starts running through various possibilities that could happen to him when he finally starts living at the palace to prepare himself from being caught off guard. If he revealed himself to be a Harbinger right away, the emperor would put him to work immediately. They would solve the problem faster than usual. -

‘Because I’m talented and strong, it would be done in no time.’ Childe thinks to himself.

And in the end the emperor would have to mate and marry him to uphold the Tsaritsa’s end of the bargain. But… if he pretended he was just a useless omega prince, would the emperor be more willing to let him go?

He smirks at the idea before turning to his agents.

“Do not tell anyone that I’m a Harbinger.” He watches them nod once at his command.

“Dismissed.” He smiles and they disappear in the blink of an eye.

‘This could be fun.’ he thinks, his smile stretching holding more mischief from his clever plan. ‘I’ll be back home in no time.’

“You’re the Tsaritsa’s son.” a voice snapped him out of his devious thoughts. He turned to his left, seeing no one. A little cough in the direction he was looking at made him glance down meeting eyes with a small girl, much shorter than himself that she had to tilt her head upwards to meet his eyes. Her mouth was curled into a distasteful pout, likely irritated at the obvious height difference.

Childe couldn’t hold back the smile that grew on his face. She was so tiny. The girl might have mistaken Childe’s smile as a mocking one and grew more irritated, her brows furrowing together.

‘She’s a fighter.’ he thinks as his eyes travel further down, intrigued by the sword attached at her hip decorated with extravagant carvings. The guard was shaped like a lion's head, beautiful listening gold in the afternoon light and the little eyes seemed to glow fiercely with amber gems. Analysing her figure, he realizes could probably beat her if they fought. He should be nice to her, since fighting weaker people did not bring any pleasure.

“I’m speaking to you.” She doesn’t mask the irritation in her voice when she glares at him. He continues to watch her with curious eyes, eyebrow raised as she moves her light purple hair behind her shoulder in one elegant toss of her hand before crossing her arms at her chest. Without having to look for too long, he knows this confident girl that came to pick him up at the harbour must be associated with the Liyue Qixing from the elegant air that she carries.

“Yes, I heard you.” Childe responds. The corner of his lip turns upward again when she rolls her eyes openly at him before turning her face away. Never in his life had he seen someone so openly irritated at him. This girl did not care the slightest that she was in the presence of one of Snezhnaya’s ruthless fighters, let alone foreign royalty.

“We’re leaving for the palace now. Follow me.” she says quickly before turning on her heels and walking away. She seemed to be in a rush to leave Childe behind, but her plan did not go about the way she planned as Childe has longer legs. He took a few big strides and caught up to her walking pace, which seemed to irritate her further. Either way, it was not hard to keep up with her.

He glanced down at his walking partner, seeing her bite her lip and her gloved hands are little balls at her sides as she walked made him chuckle.

“I hope you know I already don’t like you.” She says as she turns on her heel to open the door to the carriage. While different from Snezhnaya carriages that were fully covered and the cushioning surrounded by velvet to keep the warm, he found it cute how Liyue carriages were open, fancy carvings on the wood let air through the carriage. He traced the red wood, admiring it for a bit too long before the girl behind him made noise.

“Just get in already!” He laughed again when he climbed into the carriage, tears brimming his eyes from the way his stomach hurt.

“You’ve amused me like no other. What is your name, young lady?” Childe smiled bright and wide, feeling actual excitement of having someone openly hate him. He reached out to shake her hand, while his other hand wiped away the stray tear at the corner of his eye.

The girl huffed, her cheeks turning pink from either the humid air or his constant teasing. Her gloved hand grabbed his own.  

“Keqing.”

-

“Good morning Taru…” He sat up from his canopy bed decorated with gorgeous red and gold silks stretching his arms over his head.

His room was heavily decorated in exquisite furnishings such as porcelain vases detailed in gold and little statues of long dragons with clouds surrounding them made of marble would decorate the tables. Soft and expensive furs and fabrics draped on his bed. A single round window made of wood with intricate circle and square motive carvings framed all four sides of the window placed just a little further from the door that led out onto his huge balcony beside his bedroom.

“Good morning Qiqi!” Childe smiled at his attendant. He holds his hand out, waiting for Qiqi to give him the item that she was holding. He felt his heart melt when the little girl approached him at his bed and shyly placed a small purple flower in his palm. Childe pauses to look at the delicate plant in his hands.

“What is this?” He asks curiously. The small flower looked a little rough around its edges, but he can tell from the way Qiqi protectively held it before passing it to him that she tried her very best to be gentle.

“Violetgrass…” She fiddles with the hem of her dress, swaying her body from left to right waiting for him to accept the present she had given him.

“I love it. Thank you Qiqi.” He gently sets the violetgrass by his side before he carefully moves out of bed. He kneels in front of her to hug the smaller girl, which she happily hugs back. He feels her little hands grab the back of his silk pajamas, not being able to fully circle around him just yet.

“Let’s start the day, shall we?” Childe pulls away gently from the hug. Qiqi nods in agreement before she leaves him to find the ladies that will prepare his clothing and accessories for the day. As several sets of hands roam his body, brushing his hair and tying robes onto his clothing, another lady reads aloud the schedule that has been fixed for him by Keqing. He shuts his eyes, feeling his head tilt in one direction as a maid brushes his untamable hair. He can feel her frustration as she brushes before deciding it would be best to place little decorative pins in the shape of beautiful flowers into his hair to compensate for the mess underneath. She clips small flowers into the curls of his hair, twisting as they were little branches for the acrylic flowers to sit upon.

The first three days of Childe’s life in the Liyue Palace were very similar, a blur . Qiqi’s presence was the only consistent thing that happened during his time at the palace. Every morning when Qiqi wakes him up, she would bring something small and interesting she thinks that he would like.

The Qixing (Keqing, specifically) had presented him with Qiqi as his personal attendant while he stayed in the palace. He had discovered through the smaller girl that she works part time for Baizhu, picking herbs for hours on end occasionally never coming back to the palace for three days. But since she now waits on the foreign prince, her herb picking hours have been reduced from twilight till the sun broke through the clouds the next morning.

“Don’t you need sleep?” He asks the first day he met her. She was such a small and young girl, how could anyone make her work her bones off from dusk till dawn. Keqing stands further back from them, letting them introduce themselves before she has to haul him elsewhere.

“Qiqi is okay. Adepti are okay.” Childe didn’t know what that meant and he believed her, but it didn’t stop him from feeling a little guilty. Small kids should be getting proper rest and not scaling the side of dangerous cliffs for herbs that the doctor was capable of getting for himself.

He didn’t think that he had to make a complete 180 change from the last time he was in Liyue. Ever since Childe stepped foot on that harbour three days ago, he hadn’t touched his belongings he brought with him from Snezhnaya. He hadn’t worn any of the clothes he brought, as the attendants would dress him in Liyue’s traditional clothes specifically made for Liutian omegas.

-

“Why do I have to wear a dress?” Childe asks as he looks himself in the mirror, the silks and cotton flowy against his skin. The light blue robes detailed in a darker shade of navy blue and gold stitching complimented his eye colour. Several attendants were surrounding him, taking his measurements not missing out a single inch of his body as Keqing stood before him. She monitored the way the ladies moved gracefully about him as if they were in a dance, fleeting touches not more than 2 seconds, a stretch of tape here and there, a little tug of his clothes once in a while before the touches leave him. He watches the redhead in the mirror through the floor to ceiling mirror, the one that looked like him but he could not recognise from the gorgeous silks and cottons that decorated his imposter.

“All omegas, especially those from noble lines wear hanfus.” Keqing explains as she pulls the skirt down. Golden accessories such as clips and small delicate chains started to decorate his hair, neck and ears, Keqing was presented with different silks by the same attendants. He doesn’t say anything when she holds it up against his face, before giving the fabric back and nodding in approval.

“Plus, it’s pretty. Alphas love pretty omegas.” A beautiful woman walks in wearing her own white and golden hanfu, carrying herself like she was a goddess walking amongst men. The way her skirt flowed as she walked towards the two, the slim and elegant smile on her lips as she walked over to them. She gave a little twirl, her gorgeous skirt flaring out like a dream of silk and cotton as she arrived before the foreign prince and blushing noble.

“Don’t you agree?” She asks, leaning a little towards Keqing.  Keqing took a step back, face colouring as she looked away in embarrassment. Childe watched as the omega teased the purple haired alpha by inching closer as the other backed away. Gorgeous amber eyes gleaming with mirth, her smile hidden behind her paper fan as she basically teased the alpha. She carries a similar paper fan in her hand, wearing a similarly fashioned hanfu and yet, they couldn’t be any more different.

“Yes. You are very pretty.” her voice barely an audible gasp could be heard, but it was a sufficient response for the fair lady.

From the way her presence alone can suffocate a room, begging its attention to be turned to her and the way comfortably glides around the palace. It was safe to assume that this was the emperor's regina.

“I am Ningguang, the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing. It’s nice to meet you.” She gives a little bow of respect that Childe awkwardly returns back. Those titles that came after her name did not hold any meaning to Childe as he didn’t understand what that meant, it was possible he would forget after this meeting.

“You look pretty as well. I think this colour suits you wonderfully.” Ningguang says as she pulls lightly on the baby blue fabric the attendants had put around his arms not for any particular purpose other than decoration, but Childe being who he is naturally assumed he could turn it into a weapon and strangle someone with it if he was given the chance.

‘No, that’s a bad Ajax.’ He thought to himself. ‘No thinking about strangling.’ The voice in his head speaks in a firm tone as if he were speaking to a naughty child. His face sulks a little. When the attendants pulled away after what felt like hours, he was greeted with a sight he had never seen before. He was dressed in beautiful silks and cottons that could give him the illusion of being beautiful.

The style of hanfu was very similar to the long flowing one Ningguang wore, except the colours of his hanfu were softer in comparison to the dramatic whites, bright reds and golds the other omega wore. He didn’t catch himself in time, accidentally openly gawking at how well the attendants had dressed him. When he caught himself and shut his mouth, his eyes met with the Tianquan. She smiled at him, looking genuinely excited that he looked decent in those clothes. He can’t help but feel out of place. The attendants presented a variety of earrings carefully placed on a tray to Ningguang. She hums and carefully picks up one that she thinks would suit Childe best. A single red gem hanging from slim golden chains, smaller red flowers littering the chain in delicate placements.

“Why do you not wear your pheromones?” She asks as she assists Childe by putting on the earring. “You seem to have many scent blockers upon your neck.” She reaches for them, but with Childe’s fast reflexes, he’s immediately off the chair and covering the back of his neck with his hand. He leans against the vanity, trying not to look as uncomfortable as he feels and tries to steel his rapidly beating heart.

Ningguang blinked.

She didn’t even see him move.

“The Tsaritsa said not to take them off.” He says quickly followed by a forced laugh and smile, hoping that she would not press any further concerning the three scent blockers covering every inch of the scent glands on his neck, preventing any pheromones from accidentally leaking.

She was silent, hands still in the air from where she was holding Childe’s other earring.

“Alright.” Ningguang put the other earring down on the tray that the attendant held. “I suppose she would only want you to take them off during your heat.”

Childe nervously laughs and agrees with her.

-

Presented with portions more than Childe had ever seen, he had been eating a lot of food since he arrived at the palace compared to his home life in Snezhnaya. Childe had never been one to eat for pleasure, as he was the type of prince who found pleasure in pain and fighting, challenges and battle scars.

If Childe was to eat any more food, he felt as if his stomach would simply burst open and a flow of various ingredients would stream from it. But being the kind prince he is, he smiles and opens his mouth, consuming the food that was given to him.

It was an unusual sight for sure. He sat amongst the chefs at their designated dining table in the kitchen of the palace. Their sturdy wooden table plated at least three different kinds of chicken meals featuring different parts, cooked several different ways. He was seated on their wooden bench that could fit five people per side and ate from delicate porcelain wares and golden spoons and forks.

‘Why so spicy?’ Childe holds in the scream he wants to let out, his cheeks glowing a peachy red hue as he chews slowly, the burning sensation in his mouth moving further down his throat as he swallows. He can’t be anything less than regal as a foreign prince, carrying his image by sitting upright with his elbows off the table, but in that moment he feels helpless to the spice. His mouth opened slightly, pink lips huffing out hot air attempting to ventilate the scorching sensation.

“ He’s so thin. Xiangling is there anything else to eat?” A woman much older than him sat to his right, watching him as he steadily ate the steamed chicken dish in front of him cooked with chilies, thinly sliced gingers, and soft wolfberries. A man to his left took away his bowl of rice when he brought the spoon of chicken and rice to his mouth, filling the bowl with more soft fluffy rice before setting it back down before him.

“ I can make chicken feet with dark sauce! ” A young girl says as she rushes around the large kitchen holding a cleaver in her hand. The other chefs laugh fondly when ingredients start flying about the kitchen, some entering pots and nearly missing the pans. The cheery girl hums an upbeat tune while the cleaver cuts fast against the wooden board.

“ His face is red! ” One chef says to another.

“ Youths are so cute. ” The woman decides to fondly pinch his cheek, making him turn to her, rosy blush dusting his face. Childe couldn’t concentrate on the actions of the chefs in the kitchen, too busy blinking away the tears that stinged his eyes from the intensity of the chili.

“ Should eat more though. Get fatter and bear healthy kids.” The same woman wraps her hand around Childe’s slim wrist, seeing how she could easily wrap her thumb and index finger around it.

He exhaled a breath through his slightly parted mouth, the heat never leaving him. While his eyes were clenched closed, the young girl dropped a large bowl of soup beside the spicy chicken he had yet to clean off his plate.

“Eat up!” She says in a language he could understand since he had arrived in this kitchen an hour ago and beams a bright smile at him. He weakly smiles back with as much politeness he could muster in that moment, knowing he couldn’t get out of the situation he was currently in.

-

The end of Childe’s three busy days had been the most exhilarating despite the slow start. From the moment he woke up, the ladies had brushed his hair and dressed him per usual but this time under the watchful eye of the tiny purple haired Qixing. When he was dressed, she extended her hand towards him accompanied by her sharp glare. He didn’t think much of the gesture, placing his hand on top of hers before the alpha escorted the two of them through the maze of open aired hallways leading to the emperor’s palace in silence.

“Stand here and don’t move. Don’t go anywhere.” Keqing said when they had reached the altar, removing her hand from under his. He took a look at her and nodded in understanding. She nodded back, turning away to take a seat just behind him. From the sound of a drag of the chair against the floor, he can tell she pulled a seat closer to her own in that moment he wasn’t looking.

He had stood before the entire Liyue Qixing, seven heads of noble lines seated behind him as he stood what looked like an altar, listening to a man speaking in pure liyuan before him. From the dramatic gestures to his loud booming voice that echoed the hall, he could guess the man was a preacher of some sort. Occasionally he would jolt awake from the way the preacher’s voice would boom.

“ In the consort’s next heat, may the archons bless that an adepti child be born. ” Childe’s polite smile is beginning to fade into a more awkward and strained one. He feels like he had been standing there for ages from the way his back began to hurt from how straight he stood, combined with the heavy weight of the seven pairs of eyes staring holes into his back.

“ The emperor. ” The loud man gestured to the large double door he had entered through, but all Childe could do was stare in confusion. The man spoke such pure liyuan it was difficult for him (someone who only ever heard informal liyuan from his one year stay) it was as if he was trying to process the thick accent along with the pure pronunciations. He tried to interpret the preacher's words with the minimum amount of liyuan he learned during his one year post at Liyue Harbour when he was 21.

‘It’s too fluent.’ Childe furrows his brows in frustration. ‘I don’t understand.’ While he was trying to deconstruct the words the preacher was saying so he could get a hold of what he was on about, he failed to notice two pairs of footsteps that entered the room. One pair had stopped walking just behind him while the other walked up beside him.

“ Two worlds will collide in a united front, to unite two countries, two perspectives, two worlds. ” The preacher made a particularly big gesture before intertwining his fingers together and locking them.

‘Honestly, I should have thought about getting a tutor 3 years ago.’ He tried his best not to show such a confused expression, but failed when he heard a chuckle beside him.

“He said ‘two worlds colliding in a united front’.”

“Ah, thank you.” Childe turned his head to thank the figure beside him before looking away in fear of getting scolded by Keqing, and looking back because fuck getting scolded by Keqing.

‘This man is so handsome !’ Childe practically screamed in his mind, so loud that he was afraid the other man could hear him. He was scared the whole hallway could possibly hear him from how loud his thought was. He didn’t care that he was openly staring with eyes as large as dinner plates at this point.

The prince was suddenly very aware of the taller man standing beside him on the altar.

‘He’s taller than me. No one is ever taller than me.’ Childe snuck another sideways glance, trying to hold back the embarrassment from showing on his face. He clearly was embarrassed, he himself knew it and is accepting of the fact. He tried to steady his breathing when he felt his heart hammer at his chest. He did not prepare himself for the possibility of the emperor being (hot) his type.

‘His jawline is so sharp. He’s so tall. Is it because he’s an alpha? He’s got such pretty eyes.’ Childe’s mind was busy collecting as much information as he could get from simply looking at the emperor, he didn’t realise something slipped from his mouth.

“Pardon?” He turns his head to fully look at Childe, watching as the prince’s fair cheeks bloom a bright red when he realizes some thoughts may have slipped out as real words.

“My apologies, it’s nothing.”

Throughout the ceremony, Childe kept sneaking glances at him. Well, he couldn’t help himself no matter how disciplined he was. This man was so much eye candy he had to openly stare. When the other man noticed him staring and when he caught his eyes, Childe whipped his head to look away.

“Are you nervous?” he hears a soft voice beside him. He looks up to see him glancing with a gentle expression. Childe felt himself blush. The emperor is so handsome, you would never believe he was 40 years old.

“Yes, a little. I can’t really understand what he’s saying.” Childe admits truthfully before he felt him blush rise to his ears. Why did he admit that? Was his face really able to let down his guard?

The emperor chuckles a little before he smiles and looks forward at the officiater. “We’ll get you a tutor. It is an easy language to grasp once you figured out the basics.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s not a problem.” He smiled.

‘Fangs!’ Childe’s mind shouted in glee when he saw the sharp teeth but his face kept a calm appearance. He realises he’s been too jumpy during the ceremony and not concentrating at all. He takes a deep breath to calm himself down. ‘Of course the man has fangs, he’s an alpha.’ He nods, thinking logically and completely missing the side glance followed by a fleeting smirk the other man gave him.

The preacher hands Childe and the emperor a small cup each filled with fragrant rice wine.

‘Do I drink this?’ He looks at the clear liquid in the goblet before looking up at Zhongli, meeting his eyes for the first time in the hour they had been standing beside each other. Zhongli’s eyes never tear away from him as he slowly puts his own cup to his lips, waiting for him to do the same.

Luckily Childe catches on and drinks the wine, Zhongli doing the same.

-

“ Congratulations on getting married. ” Ningguang says in pure liyuan dialect, bowing at Childe and the emperor. Her voice carried a smoother tone when she spoke in liyuan compared to when she spoke to Childe a few days ago. He snuck another glance at Zhongli without fully turning his head, trying not to seem too interested in the man.

‘Well, if he hears my thoughts I’d be doomed.’ Childe fully regained his composure after being let go by the preacher, some of the Qixing nobles leaving the hall as soon as it was done with the exception of Ningguang and Keqing, who stood further back towards the door waiting for them to finish their conversation with the emperor. He stood beside the emperor, waiting for him to finish his exchange with his regina before introducing himself, but while that was happening he was running through his mind figuring out how to make a good first impression.

“ Be quiet. ” He says, but the smile that graced his face when he faced her was gentle, yet it held some mirth. The smiles they exchanged held deeper meaning, as if it holds years of bonding that could not be overwritten by the involvement of a second love. Childe feels envious somehow.

Zhongli fully turns to him, with that handsome smile still on his face and Childe finds himself being entranced. He could finally get a good look at the well dressed man who wore layers upon layers from his dress shirt to his vest and his outer coat, this man was covered from head to toe leaving not an inch of skin exposed for imagination to run wild.

“Childe, this is Zhongli.” Ningguang introduces them before Zhongli could open his mouth to speak. “Call him xiansheng.” Zhongli turned to her with disbelief on his face while she giggled mischievously behind her gloved hand.

“You don’t have to call me - “

“Xiansheng?” He feels shy when he attempts to copy Ningguang’s pronunciation. He was rewarded with a thumbs up from the fair lady, but he noticed Zhongli take a step back from him.

“That is good pronunciation, Childe.” Zhongli says.

“My real name is Ajax.” He blurts out, feeling his cheeks get hot from how well this man could play him without having to do anything. He hasn’t actually said his original name for years, not since he had been adopted by the Tsaritsa. He felt as if he could have gone a lifetime without hearing that name again.

“Ajax.” And yet, he wants to hear his name on this man's lips more, drink it up like it was wine and honey. The smile that comes after the syllables of his name were addictive. He feels high, overwhelmed even, as if he had not been breathing oxygen up until he hears his name uttered from this man's lips.

If he could look at that smile for the rest of his life.

“There’s plenty of time for you both to get to know each other,” Ningguang says, but the holes that Keqing had been staring into her head had increased in intensity since earlier. “But not right now.” She smiles, a little nervous about the purple haired noble that was clicking the heel of her shoe against the carpeted floor.

Unfortunately, Ningguang went unheard by the two males. Zhongli looks at Childe like he is the only person in the hall, and Childe looks at him like he was the only person in the universe as they spoke, low and quiet unwanting others to hear their meek conversation.

“Are you really 40 years old?”

“No, that might be an exaggeration.”

“I knew my siblings were joking - “ “I’m 57.”

Childe blinked, his hand moving away from his mouth, to look at the emperor with disbelief. He shook his head, feeling whiplash from the information. The corners of the emperor's lips quirk upwards, amused as he watches the ginger process the information.

“You’re older than the Tsaritsa.”

“Indeed. I’ve known her for a very long time, we are good friends.”

“Ahem.” A loud noise was made, finally attracting the attention of the prince and the emperor. They turned to look at the smaller girl, her fist at her mouth before she crossed her arms. Ningguang stood a little behind her, averting her gaze. She did try to warn them, they couldn’t blame her for their scolding.

“Childe has to meet his tutor and Lady Ningguang and I have a meeting to tend to.” Keqing says bluntly. It seems her clear dislike was not hidden from anyone, not even with the exception of the emperor.

“Oh? I thought we were going on a date?” Ningguang piped up, making the purple haired girl go red in the face, but keeping her usual stoic demeanor. Keqing had her hands balled up in fists when the lady teased her, but couldn’t deny that it had embarrassed her in a good way. Zhongli raised a curious brow at his Qixing before nodding.

“I understand. You may go.” He says to Keqing and Ningguang. They both bow at their direction, before taking off. Childe was in the midst of turning away to follow them but was stopped by a gentle touch of a hand on his wrist. The touch was so gentle, it made his heart flutter. He looked at the gloved hand that caught him, before looking up at the emperor’s face.

“Xiansheng?” He says curiously. Zhongli hesitates, so the both of them were simply studying each other's faces. He looked like he had a lot to say to him, his mouth opening slightly before closing, and opening again and biting his lower lip.

“Till we meet again.” He finally says. Zhongli looked the way that Childe felt, shy. Childe couldn’t suppress the twinkle in his eyes and the smile that crept upon his face.

“Till next time, xiansheng.”

-

“In Liyue customs, an empress is bred from young, training from a youth until a young adult to be able to take the responsibilities that come with being the empress. Among these responsibilities are overseeing the imperial charity, funding for - '' The words blur and jumble into a ball of sounds as Childe stares at the pen and blank paper in front of him.

Why did he have to learn about the empress anyway? Couldn’t he skip to the parts that he didn’t need to learn since he was a meer concubine to the emperor? He twirls the fountain pen between his fingers, careful to not fling ink out and spray it all over the parchment.

“Childe, are you listening?” He looks up at his tutor. The blue haired boy much much younger than him is sitting at the end of his desk with a thick book placed on his lap.

“Yes, Xingqiu, I’m listening.”

“Good. How many years must an empress candidate undergo training before she can become the official regina?” He places his elbow on his knee, leaning his head on his hands as he watches the foreign prince in amusement. The prince clearly hadn’t been listening to him, instead choosing to spend his time concentrating on not spilling the ink from his pen as he twirled it between his fingers like a baton.

“Sixteen years.” Childe answers effortlessly, avoiding eye contact with his smug tutor. Xingqiu’s head lifted from his hand, a little shocked that the prince actually was paying attention to him.

“Good. We can move on to the inner workings of the emperors palace and its hierarchy.” He clasps the book shut with both hands, placing it onto the ever growing pile behind him before picking up another heavy volume with gold engravings on the spine. The red head looked at the book before his gaze trailed up to his teachers face. There is no way this boy was older than sixteen, and yet he’s sitting on the corner of his desk acting like his boss. According to Keqing who assigned Xingqiu as his tutor, the boy comes from a long line of nobles that had been famed to teach Liyue etiquette to both the descendants of emperors and empresses.

“A summary of the hierarchy would be Emperor Zhongli of course, followed by his son Xiao - “

“His son?” Childe asks, curiosity getting the best of him. ‘I didn’t know Zhongli was married.’ He put a finger to his chin and leaned back into his chair, hiding his troubled expression behind his hand.

“Yes, the sole prince of Liyue and only son of the emperor, Xiao. He is twenty this year, but isn’t taking the throne.” the blue haired boy shrugs as if the information was not anything special before flipping to another page of the thick book. Childe still lost in thought was thinking about the possibilities of Zhongli’s wife and himself having a child together, but still allowing the emperor to take a concubine for the sake of his country.

“He’s the current head of the Liutian army.” His tutor realises that he was no longer paying attention and raises a brow. He figures the prince must have some troubling thoughts to forgo listening to him altogether.

“He’s adopted.” Xingqiu says. He wants to burst out laughing when the information clearly did not reach Childe’s ears, but chooses to muffle his giggle behind his hand. He watches the prince's furrowed brows and smiles gently. Might as well continue reading from the book if the prince was not going to pay attention to his detailed explanations. “After the prince would be the eight heads of the Liyue Qixing starting with the Tianquan, who oversees the law and governance.” Xingqiu continues, the sun setting through the window behind him colouring the room in an orange hue.

- ‘The emperor has a son, which means he has a wife’ was the one thing Childe really took away from his first tutoring lesson with the young noble. He lies down on his bed staring at the ceiling above him, feeling the air gently blow through his open window surrounding him in comforting cold winds. It felt nowhere near as cold as Snezhnaya, but it would have to do for the night. The prince tended to do his thinking in the dead of night while the wind rustled through his fluffy hair.

‘The previous Tsar before mother had over eight omegas as concubines, but mother has never taken a husband.’ He thought, rolling onto his side and propping his head up onto his arm. Through his window, he could see the gorgeous garden filled with trees and white stone walls that sat between the emperor's palace and the palace he currently resides in. Deciding to get off his bed, he walked over to the window letting his long robes drag across the floor, tucking the long fabric under his legs while he situated himself on the bench beside the window.

‘Maybe mom is right? Would I actually have to work hard to impress the emperor?’ He furrows his brow in thought which he found himself doing very often since he had arrived at the palace. Childe thought himself to be the adaptable type, able to mold himself into any situation and conquer the harshest of conditions.

And yet, being treated like a soft and gentle omega was the strangest thing he had ever experienced in his lifetime.

‘Are soft and gentle someone Zhongli likes?’ Childe gets off his bench to walk over to the floor to ceiling mirror in the corner of his room. He looks at himself in the mirror with the robes wrapped tightly around his waist, and yet it was still loose enough to slip off slightly. He wasn’t very much the image of an ‘omega’, having more sharp angles than soft curves, and he is tall nearly the same height as the emperor. Overall in comparison to other omegas he had seen around the palace they had been the exact opposite of him.

Small, soft types with curves and usually very pretty with large doe eyes.

‘I’m more handsome than pretty.’ Childe thinks as he grabs his hip bones with both hands. ‘Sharp.’ He continues to pat his body, feeling the toned muscle and bone on him from years of working for the Tsaritsa. His hands trail to his toned stomach and rubs it in circles with the palm of his hand. He had always thought the best feature of his Harbinger uniform was that it had normally exposed his stomach, which was a part of him that he was proud of. It was sexy to say the least and it aided him agility wise on the battlefield, but now he wasn’t sure. Were omegas supposed to expose themselves like that?

‘I could make the effort. Zhongli is kinda handsome, I guess.’ He rolls his eyes, as if he had now been openly gawking the first time he met the emperor. ‘And helping the Tsaritsa is my priority.’

“Damn, I’ve never been this body conscious in my life.” He walks away from the mirror, but turns to look back at himself, eyes directly dropping to the shape of his ass in the mirror. He laughs a little pathetically before running a hand through his hair.

“This guy doesn’t know me, so it wouldn’t be too hard to hide the fact I was practically a tyrant back home!” With full confidence, he turned to face the mirror and crossed his arms, beaming at his prettier doppelganger in the mirror. He met his eyes, smile falling a little. Who was he kidding, he felt so out of place.

“Right?”

[willadisastercry]

Part 1 of the: ‘Lance has epilepsy and gives everyone an absolute heart attack’ series

tw: epileptic content, migraine symptoms including aura symptoms, seizure activity

also (((( I do not have epilepsy but I am familiar with the condition from first hand experience with a friend, the content described consists of specific symptoms they experienced at one time or another due to several other outside factors and are used to convey a fictional circumstance. Nothing of ill intent here to belittle the condition!! ))))

Lance managed to successfully hide the fact that he has epilepsy from the doctors at the Garrison, telling them the hospitalizations on his file were for fibril seizures and that he’d grown out of them. His parents only let him do it because his condition had been under control for a while after he found the right balance of medication once he’d stopped growing. He hadn’t had a grand mal seizure in years. But he’d only had so many pills on his person when he got thrown into this mess of being a juvenile defender of the universe... and he’s officially run out.

Lance woke up from his nap with a start and winced.

His head was throbbing and the strings of light that flashed before him despite the darkness of his room were nauseating so he pressed his eyes shut, maneuvering shakily into a sitting position to try and steady his breathing.

His headache hadn’t gotten much better in the time he’d spent trying rest. He’d finally managed to fall asleep only to spend it thrashing around and getting tangled in his sheets, kicking them to the floor after he’d worked up enough of a sweat.

He knew this type of headache. By the time Shiro called it quits for training earlier his eyes had felt so strained and his brain had pulsed so angrily within his skull that when he blinked a blur had appeared at the bottom of his field of vision, like he’d had something in his eye making it tear. Except he didn’t.

It was a blind spot of blurred vision from the aura migraine his headache was developing into. But Lance simply wasn’t ready to admit what was coming next so he stubbornly convinced himself that he could just sleep it off.

Because he would be fine. The only other activity he’d had was earlier in the training session when he nearly face planted after succumbing to an absent seizure he’d been trying to fight. It was his turn to spar with the simulated sentry but his feet remained firmly planted underneath him, his mouth frozen in a slanted gape.

Hunk was at his side immediately trying to break the spell, assuring the team he had just gotten lightheaded and needed a minute. It lasted for thirty seconds tops but the amount of effort it took to finally make his feet work left him briefly confused and disoriented.

“You know you need to tell someone, right?” Hunk asked worriedly as his grip on his friends shoulder tightened.

All he could do was nod and promise to tell Shiro and Allura later. It took another minute to convince Hunk that he was fine to finish training, that he was out of the spell and felt a lot better.

But that was admittedly a huge mistake.

Because now his aura migraine had gone from mild and manageable to very concerning. He only ever saw flashes of color or light before he had a seizure and he didn’t even have rescue medicine with him so there would be no preventing it now.

He needed Hunk. He needed to get to his room before the tingling sensation that was making its way up his arms and legs got any worse.

He swung his legs over the side of his bed and waited while he woke up a bit more to get settled in with the orientation. Before the blood rush making his ears ring dissipated a pins and needles sensation crawled up his neck and his jaw clicked as he fought how it wanted to lock, the slow churn of anxiety in his stomach picking up as his head turned to the side without him wanting it to.

No, nope! Gotta move.

He scooted to the very edge of his bed and planted his feet firmly on the floor.

Your gonna get stuck for who knows how long and by then you could be seizing.

Gotta get up, gotta go.

His legs felt like jelly beneath him when he sent his body up into a standing position, letting the momentum of the push take him stumbling to his door. It whooshed open swiftly before the blood rush that hadn’t even settled from when he sat up in his bed could even dissipate, worsened by standing up so quickly, and he tumbled forward boneslessly. He was just able to snag a hold on the door frame when the bright lights of the hallway assaulted his eyes.

And then before he could even ride the nauseating wave of pain from the sudden exposure to such strong lighting he was met by a solid force that threatened to take him to the ground if they weren’t holding onto his arms so tightly.

“You know you’re supposed to have your eyes open when you walk, right?”

Keith.

It was Keith, it was anyone. Lance could’ve cried he was so happy to have quite literally stumbled upon someone who could help.

The other boy’s hands stayed holding Lance’s arms firmly as he fought his rapidly stiffening neck to attempt to look him in the eyes, wincing when he tried to open them and finding that he literally couldn’t.

“Wait, what’s wrong with you?”

He would’ve replied had it not been for the sudden overwhelming surge of blood from his head to his hands and legs. He was about to pass out, shit.

He fought desperately to wrench his jaws apart to speak, coughing and sputtering through pursed lips at the effort but eventually hearing a click and then launching into the renewed ability before it disappeared again.

“Need to sit, like now,” Lance spat urgently, his face paling almost in sync with his statement.

“The fuck—okay, okay, i’ve got you,” Keith started, Lance’s legs buckling not even a beat later, but his arms were around the other boy’s middle and guiding him to sit against the wall before he could even hit the ground.

He groaned pitifully as his head lolled to the side before it locked into position for the absent seizure he’d postponed, still conscious but frozen and battling the not so fun affects of being so very close to fainting but not actually.

“Lance what’s happening?”

Keith’s voice was pitched higher than before and his words came faster, his hand was on his forehead checking for a fever that wouldn’t be there. They then moved to his cheek and the other his neck, his pulse was strong but fast.

“Can you hear me?”

He could, but his face was stuck in a grimace. He made an annoyed noise through his gritted teeth and managed to flick his hand, Keith taking it up hesitantly.

“If you can hear me, uh, squeeze my hand...” he waited and gasped when Lance squeezed, well attempted to. The absent seizure wasn’t sticking which meant that he was going to have a grand mal like a lot sooner than later. He wanted to cry.

“Do you feel—are you sick? You don’t have a fever...”

He hummed and managed to move his head away and back into place, not really a nod but Keith got the idea.

“Okay... can you speak? Like I don’t know what’s wrong but it seems like—“

“Pillows.”

His jaw clicked again and he bit his tongue as he choked the word out, the taste of iron filling his mouth.

“Pillows? What? Why would...? Shit, wait does that m—“

“Keith... pillows.”

Lance didn’t have to ask again, Keith was in his room tearing the covers off of his bed and snatching up the abundance of pillows on Lance’s bed that would have confused him before but now made perfect sense. When he got back to the hallway Lance hadn’t moved except to lay on his side far from the wall, his face wet with tears.

“H-hunk,” Lance pleaded, his voice barely audible as Keith scrunched up the blankets behind him and then nudged him to pick up his head so he could place his pillow beneath it. He was pretty sure what was about to happen and he was terrified for his friend.

“I... I don’t want to leave you alone like this, your scaring me,” Keith said, the fear in his voice genuine and the care sincere. Lance didn’t have to have his eyes open to know exactly how Keith must look with how distraught he sounded and would’ve been really touched if he weren’t so goddamned scared himself.

“Get Hunk. Go now. Hurry.”

His voice broke on the last word and Keith took off in a dead sprint for Pidge’s workspace where he’d seen him last.

Lance wasn’t sure of how much time passed before darkness washed over him... but it wasn’t darkness, he wasn’t seizing yet... someone was here. With the cover of their shadow he managed to work one eye open to test if it would still be agonizing even with the shade.

It was Shiro. He looked more amused than concerned, but Lance couldn’t blame him.

“Lance?! What the fuck, bud?”

He almost laughed but found he couldn’t even do that, his body was too tense, stiffening up but not in the tonic stage yet because he was still conscious. It was getting close though, the seizure would happen soon but his body relaxed as much as it could knowing that Shiro was here with him and he wouldn’t be alone.

“Like I wanna ask, but then again I also don’t know if I want to know—Lance? Wh-Lance?! Lance what the—shit.”

Lance’s sensitive eyes flew open, wide and unseeing before they rolled back and he let out a strangled whine, head snapping back against the pillow so aggressively that the momentum sent him the rest of his body with it. Now rolled onto his arching back while his limbs straightened and stretched out, his middle rose steadily off the ground against his long legs digging into the floor.

Shiro paled and sat in utter shock for a moment before he seemed to snap right into action, realization hitting him in the gut as he wrangled the younger boy’s rigid form back onto his side, just in time for the drool to flood from his mouth in enough of a quantity to have had him choking.

“You’re okay, Lance. That’s it, you’re okay,” Shiro soothed as he scrambled over to his other side so he could use his body to keep him from rolling onto his back while he corded his hand through his now damp hair and rubbed circles between his tensed shoulder blades, this way he could still keep an eye on his face and where his hands were.

The tonic phase lasted a minute, maybe even more, but that was already too long.

Shiro heard footsteps just as Lance’s body shuddered, the prone boy groaning deeply and gurgling hard on more saliva, his hands now rising with speed towards his face but Shiro was quick to catch the fists before they connected, letting them settle at his neck after he’d stopped the force of what would have been a painful blow.

“No, no, shit!” Hunk ground to a halt and dropped down next to Lance, Pidge there a second later immediately rushing to resituate the pillows where they’d leave him with fewer bruises in the morning.

“When did he start seizing?”

“Uhm, literally a minute ago... well no. He started twitching right before you got here but he’s been stiff for a while... Hunk what’s-what’s wrong with him?”

“Well, nothing’s like wrong with him I guess-I don’t know... he just-he just—“

“He has epilepsy.” Pidge offered and Hunk sighed deeply before continuing, Lance’s twitches not letting up and his grunts getting louder.

“It’s been under control for years, once he’d stopped growing and gotten his medicine right, that’s why he was able to pilot for the Garrison. But he ran out of pills last week, god, I told him to tell you! He’s so stubborn... I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for Hunk, you’re a good friend. I’ll chew him out when he’s, uh, better.”

Pidge squeaked when she caught a boney knee to her side after leaning too close to fix the blankets and Hunk shooed her back protectively.

“How long are these supposed to last...?” Keith asked worriedly as he hovered over the scene.

“Hmm, this is actually kinda long for him, they’re only ever a minute or two,” Hunk frowned.

“It’s probably because he couldn’t properly wane himself off of his medicine... he tried to but he kept getting auras and his arms would tingle and he told me, and I quote, that he needed ‘not tingling arms to shoot a gun’.”

“Well, it’s certainly helpful—“

“Hey, I think it’s ending,” Hunk interrupted as Lance slowly began to wind down into the pillows beneath him with steady shudders but not full on spasming, his eyes fluttering closed a minute later with a few residual twitches every now and then.

“What now?” Shiro asked.

“Now we should probably tell Coran and Allura, we need a new way to stop his seizures and until we do he’s going to keep having them,” Pidge said as she straddled Lance to get on his other side and then pushed him onto his back and laid against his side, nearly on top of him, with her hands in his hair.

“I’ll get them,” Keith stated before running off again, happy for the out because he was still rattled and just not good with the comfort stuff.

“We also need to see if we can rouse him, he’s probably gonna be confused when he wakes up... pressure helps him not panic,” Hunk prompted when he saw Shiro eyeing Pidge’s minstrations with confusion.

Hunk leaned down and started rubbing his sternum with his knuckles and whispering close to his ear.

“Come on hermano, open your eyes. It’s over, it passed. You’re okay now.”

His eyes fluttered open slowly but closed quickly and he winced as he turned his head to the side. Shiro moved to block the light like he had before and the pain seemed to wash away instantly.

Pidge cupped his cheek gently and turned his face back up. When he opened his eyes again it didn’t hurt and he softened back into the pillow... wait pillow, why’d his eyes hurt? He wasn’t in his room and Shiro was leaning over him and staring down into this soul but he was also upside down, what—

“Calm down Lance, you had a seizure. You’re okay now, it’s over, just relax,” Hunk soothed as his face came into view over Lance and he let out a small “oh” before taking a deep breath.

“Hey Pidge,” he said after a while and she smiled into the crook of his arm and he returned the sort of hug.

“Hey, stupid.”

“Ugh, rude. Give a guy a break, will ya?”

“Not until you stop being stupid!”

“Pidge has a point, you can’t just keep stuff like this from us. Coran could’ve helped! And what if we were on a mission and Hunk or Pidge weren’t with you to—“ Shiro stopped himself and sighed.

“You just worried us and the point is you should’ve come to us, but I think you get that now... yeah?”

He nodded sheepishly as Shiro bent down to ruffle his hair.

When he seemed less out of it Hunk pulled him up into a sitting position but he was uncharacteristically weak, even for just getting out of a seizure and slumped back immediately, Shiro quickly filling in behind him and keeping him upright. He squeezed his eyes shut now that his shade was gone and breathed through the dizziness.

“You’re eyes still hurt...? Hm, a migraine that long isn’t good,” Pidge mused sympathetically as she continued to run her hands soothingly through his hair and his face scrunched up in frustration.

“I think we should get him to the infirmary and have Coran check him out,” Shiro said as he shifted behind Lance to hold him better.

“Think you can stand or do you still feel weird?”

Lance shook his head slowly, careful not to move faster than he needed to with his head aching once again.

“That’s alright, I’ll give you a lift.”

Piggy back rides from Hunk are always welcome, but not like this. Lance was sad, also sort of embarrassed but mostly really tired. He wasn’t even aware he’d nodded off until Hunk deposited him onto a cot that Coran had set up in the infirmary.

“Lance! Oh, you must stop scaring us all like this!” Allura urged as Shiro placed a hand on her shoulder to ease her tension.

“Scared the crap out of me...” Keith chimed in, Hunk nudged him in approval for having done so well in handing such a bizarre situation given the circumstances.

Lance assumed that everyone was here but refused to open his eyes, his stomach was in knots and he didn’t want to test the stability of his stomach in front of everyone by trying to be a tough guy. Coran seemed to recognize the wrinkling of his nose and flutter under his eyelids for the internal debate that it was.

“Ah, my boy! You can open your eyes, we’ve turned the lights down considerably and have shaded bifocals—right, sun-glasses, for you to wear so you aren’t in pain.”

Lance opened one eye cautiously. The lights were in fact dimmed but even the muted brightness seemed to make his head throb so he reached for the glasses from Coran, grateful when they took the edge off the ache.

“This is better...” he sighed and curled up under the blanket that had been laid out for him now that he knew it was there, holding his arm out for Pidge to resume her position.

“You’re so cold, what the heck,” she fussed as she rubbed his hands aggressively, hoping the friction warmed them.

“It’s probably a side affect of stoping such a strong medicine cold turkey, you’ve probably felt somewhat ill the past few days too...” Coran provided as he hustled around the infirmary, getting supplies as Allura and her mice resumed typing away on a tablet.

“You should’ve told me you experience seizures regularly! Alteans have a similar phenomenon that’s easy to remedy... it might take some time to find the right balance for you, but I think I have several things that we can try, how does that sound?”

“Sounds good, anything so I can keep piloting Blue...”

“Oh... is that why you didn’t want to tell us?” Shiro asked sadly, “because you thought we’d replace you or forbid you from piloting?”

Lance didn’t answer, he only sunk somehow further into the bed but welcomed Pidge’s tightening grip around his chest and could feel Shiro’s hand on his leg as he sat on the edge of the cot.

“We never would have done that, Lance. We would’ve figured something out, tried everything before it came to that and even then how could we? You’re the blue paladin and there’s nothing that could change that.”

Lance was crying again, thankful he had glasses to cover his tears.

“Thanks, Shiro. S’pretty stupid.”

“Shhh, stop saying that. Only I can call you stupid!” Pidge grumbled.

“Aha, right. Sorry, thanks guys.”

“Don’t thank us, bud, it’s our job.”

[iridescenthor]

king & queen

Pairing; Peter Parker x Reader

Time Frame; Homecoming

Summary; You worry for Peter, more times than not. When he learns this he pulls you away from homework for the night and takes you on a swing around the city.

Warnings; strong language

an:// First fic on this account and first Peter fic ever lol kinda scared. I do write for multiple fandoms and requests are open!! For Marvel I write for Peter, Tony, Loki, and I’m trying to ease into writing for Thor but I can’t get his personality down good so it’s a work in progress :( I also will write for BTS, all Harry Potter characters, some 70/80s movies and more - feel free to send in an ask if you’re wondering if I write for someone specific. Thank you :)

School had been absolutely kicking your ass lately. Homework upon homework was being assigned in almost every class, and on top of that multiple quarter tests coming up that you really needed to study for considering the material being taught lately was just completely skimming right over the top of your mind.

Normally school came easily to you. You prided yourself in your ambition and intelligence, school had never been a problem for you. Now it was different, now you knew where your boyfriend actually ran off to every night. When he had first told you what the Stark Internship was, you had been ecstatic. Peter was Spider-Man? That’s amazing! It was something he genuinely loved doing and if anything it made you fall in love with him even more after learning he spent his days protecting the city for nothing in return. However it didn’t talk long for the anxiety to kick in.

Now instead of having the weary feeling in the back of your head that he was doing something behind your back, you had an overwhelming feeling of nausea at the thought that one of these nights he would never make it back to Aunt May - to you - safely.

Worrying for his safety was the main cause of your procrastination in completely work efficiently lately. It would never stop as long as you were with him, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t begin to work on at least keeping up your grades while waiting for him to text you that he was home safe for the night. 

So, like you had been for the past couple of weeks since he filled you in on his secret identity, you tried to push your anxieties out of your mind and focus on the tower of work in front of you waiting to be completed. Sitting there like a lovesick teenager with your mind on your boy all night was not going to help you pass your classes.

An hour passed, and soon that slipped into two hours. You had managed to complete most of the work assigned but definitely not to the best of your ability. It was already half past midnight, and no text from Peter. You were completely aware that maybe he got caught up on the way home and someone needed help but it didn’t stop you from worrying. He’d usually texted by now, but so far there was nothing. You gave up on the homework for the rest of the night - opting to finish some during study hall the next day or just full-out leaving it all to do tomorrow night.

After packing away the remaining school materials into your bag, you changed into some comfortable sleeping shorts and one of Peter’s oversized long-sleeve shirts. Turning the lights off and slipping under the covers of your bed was the easy part, but no matter how many times you tossed and turned you couldn’t fall asleep without knowing if Peter was sleeping soundly in his bed or bleeding out in an alley on the other side of the city.

It was one on the dot when a soft tapping filled the burning silence of your room. You turned from facing your closet and spotted a crouched figure on your fire-escape. Your heart lunged happily when you recognized the familiar blue and red of the suit Tony stark made for him. You yanked the covers off your body and threw your legs over the edge of your bed, running to open the window as quickly and quietly as you could. Once it was open, you didn’t let even let him reach up to pull off his mask before you were throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him close to you. “I was so worried.” You whispered, pressing a few kisses to his collarbone.

He chuckled cutely, climbing in the window to hug you closer to him. “I’m sorry I showed up without texting you first, I forgot my phone at home. I just wanted to see you.”

You smiled, pulling away a little to grab the hem of his mask and pull it gently over his head. Finally you were able to look him in the eyes, and the realization that he returned to you safe once again was enough to immediately calm your nerves. He smiled at you, leaning down to press a short kiss on your lips.

An idea seemed to come to his head as he pulled away excitedly. “Hey, say neither of us were tired and we both wanted to get a little adrenaline rush before sleeping. Would you be up to it?”

You grinned, immediately pulling away to slip on some moccasins. “Are you offering what I think you are?” He nodded cheekily, turning to climb out the window once more. Once he was crouched on the railing of the fire-escape, he reached his hand out to you.

“Wanna go for a swing?” He proposed formally, a giddy grin pulling at his lips as you accepted his hand. He helped you out onto the balcony, before pulling you up to stand next to him on the thin railing. You looked down below, already feeling the excitement building in you at the sight of the ground twenty stories below you, as he helped steady you when a particularly strong gust of wind blew past.

He looked at you, adoration pooling in his eyes as he watched you hold onto the supports of the stairs that continued up the side apartment building. “Ready?” His left arm wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you into his body and your response was immediate - not a hint of hesitation apparent. You trusted him, you trusted him with everything in you. You released the support beams and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck.

You pressed your nose affectionately to his cheek and smiled at the red tint building on his face - whether it was from the wind or the close proximity of your bodies you were unsure. “Ready.” You confirmed in a whisper. A grin spread across his face like wildfire, and in one swift movement he yanked the mask over his head, hoisted you up so your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, and jumped from the railing. Before you both were even halfway to the ground he shot out a web and latched onto the railing of a balcony on another building.

He swung you both forward, releasing the web and shooting out another one whenever need be. Every time your bodies dropped your stomach would squeeze and twist uncomfortably but the smile never left your lips. You moved your head so you were looking back over Peter’s shoulder as he swung, and immediately felt the air leave your lungs. This was what Peter saw every night? It was beautiful to say the absolute least. The lights from the city were all different colors and they were currently all blurring together from the speed of his swings.

You watched the cars driving on the street below and a laugh slipped from your lips. Peter reacted by squeezing your waist tightly with the arm holding you to him as he managed to finally stop you both on the rooftop of one of the fancy hotels in the city. He landed with a soft thud and moved a few steps away from the edge. You unwrapped your legs from around him, placing your feet on the gravel of the rooftop yet neither of you let go of each other. He pulled his mask off once more and laughed happily, pressing his nose to skin behind your ear, breathing in deeply. “How was it?”

With your chin propped up on his shoulder, you squeezed your arms around his neck in a tighter hug. “Amazing. So amazing.”

He pressed a couple slow kisses down your neck until his forehead was resting on your shoulder. “I love you so much.”

A small laugh escaped your lips as you pulled away to look him in the eyes. You unwrapped your arms from his neck, opting to cup his cheeks in your hands as you spoke with unwavering adoration. “I love you too. So much more than you’ll ever know.” You leaned in, locking his lips with your own in a slow kiss. “I was so worried about you today. It’s the longest you’ve gone on patrol.” You mumbled against his lips.

“I’m sorry baby, I got caught up. Quite a few robberies for just one night, it was kinda weird.” He explained softly, burying his face in the crook of your neck again.

“It’s alright lovely.” You whispered back, tracing a circle on the back of his neck. “I just want you safe, that’s all.” You sat there for a while longer just embracing each other as the wind picked up. You shivered when you felt it whip at your bare legs. He felt you shake and immediately pulled away with a frown.

“Oh shit babe, you can’t sit out here with just shorts on - why didn’t you say you were cold?” He scolded gently, pulling you with him to the edge of the building.

“No,” You whined, trying to tug out of his grip. “I want to keep hugging you. You’re all warm and you smell good.” A blush rose up on his cheeks once more and a small breathy laugh escaped his lips. He tried to pull on the mask before you noticed his reddening face, but you would have been able to see how flustered he was from a mile away.

Once he was standing on the edge he pulled you flush against him, grabbing at your wrists and wrapping your arms back around his neck. “Cuddle?” He suggested, voice muffled by the fabric of his mask. “I can call May and ask if I could sleep over yours tonight?” You let out a squeak of excitement and nodded vigorously, jumping up to wrap your legs back around his waist with his help.

His left arm wrapped securely around you once more as he got ready to jump. “Sounds like a plan then.” He confirmed, and even with his mask covering the grin on his lips, you could still here the excitement coating his voice. 

[deadenginescribbywibs]

Reunion - Prologue

After the battle there was an impromptu information session held in a damp and chilly bunker half a mile up from the ruined compound. Night was already closing in, as were reporters and the few family and friends tied to the heroes who weren’t present at the battle. May Parker, Happy Hogan, Cassie Lang, Clint Barton's wife and kids. 

“We need to be prepared,” Captain America said, still beaten and bruised but no longer sporting dirt in his teeth, “just in case anything else happens- In case anyone comes from another time.” 

And so the remaining heroes sat in October weather in the concrete room, some falling asleep- from the cold or their injuries, who could say. He talked about what he could. The battle of Wakanda five years prior, chopping off Thanos’ head, Natasha, Tony. When he couldn’t choke back the tears, Sam took over, and when Sam couldn’t continue, it was Rhodey. Towards the end it was Rocket who carried the meeting, and in the back, Peter Parker kept his eyes firmly on the ground. Nearest to the door and too cold from the draft of impending winter wind, he listened to the drone of strained, sometimes tearful voices. When it was over, wrapped in a damp blanket, Peter wondered if this is what it meant to be an Avenger. 

---

Peter always imagined the Avengers having a lot of energy, at least that was his impression from Germany. What he saw now wasn’t a group of unlikely heroes rising to meet challenges head on. They were just ghosts, like him, and he felt he could fade away at any moment. 

His phone rang, probably Ned or May. He had nothing to say, so he didn’t pick up. 

--

The boy sat in the hall all alone. At least it was warm, a far cry better from the two freezing nights sleeping on cots outside the upstate Avengers facility. Peter rolled his shoulders in their joints and stretched his neck. His head was still pounding, the last reminder of the physical toll of Thanos. Even safe inside, Peter’s mind was still on the battlefield, on Titan, and Tony’s face when he started to dust away, the desperate grip trying to keep him alive.

Peter started at the sturdy hand landing on his shoulder. 

“Hey.” Steve Rogers stood at his side, blue eyes fixed on the sign on the far wall. MORGUE. “Thanks.” 

Peter shrugged his shoulders and averted his eyes. “For what?” He croaked.

“For staying with him. Tony never liked to be alone…” Tears stung at Peter’s already red rimmed eyes but he held them in, body tense. After a moment's hesitation Steve sat down in the other dingy little mint green chair and crossed his arms. The silence stretched on until it was comfortable. 

Eventually Peter fell asleep, head resting on Captain America’s shoulder.

--

Steve was just trying to stay awake. 

“What’s up, punk?” Bucky strolled up the hall in his green sweats and grey long sleeve shirt, metal hand tucked into a pocket. 

Steve gestured at the teen asleep on the floor a few feet away. “Babysitting.” 

Bucky’s eyes trailed over the small figure huddled under the wool blanket pressed up against the wall, a hospital gown balled up under his head. “Jesus, we can’t get the kid a bed?”

Steve shook his head. “He wouldn’t leave if he could.” He nodded to the ‘Morgue’ sign. 

“Starks?”

“Sort of.” 

--

By the third day they were able to disperse somewhat. It took time to get communication and transportation back online through SHIELD, and to get the unhoused heroes into some kind of temporary lodging while waiting for spaceships and quinjets to be repaired. A side effect of many of the heroes being stranded on Earth and more specifically in New York, however, was that they ended up at the lakehouse of one recently widowed Pepper Potts. For having just watched her husband die and the near destruction of the universe, she was managing as well as could be expected. 

Peter was sharing a spare room with Thor and Rocket and Peter Quill, and although he hadn’t been alone in a week- or a week and five years, depending how you looked at it, the sounds of breathing in the dark room were a comfort compared to the clinical silence of the medical wing hall. 

At 4:40am his stomach rumbled. Peter groaned. “No.” He turned over under his covers, but the hunger wouldn’t let up. After days without food running on a super metabolism, his will finally broke at 5:13am and Peter slunk out of the bedroom tiptoeing over beings big and small alike. 

The kitchen was dimly lit. Outside, a small lake glimmered under a moon hanging low like ripe fruit, illuminating the trinkets and cups and pictures in the modest but modern kitchen, not the place he pictured Tony retiring into but nice nonetheless. It was homey. 

He didn’t have an appetite per se, or at least the nausea was still battling against his will to eat, but Peter eventually settled on a box of crackers in a cupboard. He plunged a hand into the crinkling plastic liner and stuffed a handful of saltines into his mouth greedily, and suddenly parched, Peter reached for a cup for water. Next to the haphazardly placed drinking glasses were a row of pictures, the first, Howard Stark he recognized from history books, and the next he wasn’t sure, but the last in the line made Peter’s heart skip a beat. Tony and Peter posed for a photo for his Stark Internship, peace signs poised and smiling giddily. He’d thought it was the best day of his life. He must have been standing staring at the picture for a long time, because by the time Peter broke out of his melancholy, the stars had faded out of sight in the early morning sky. 

There was a faint shuffling to his side. Peter turned to see Pepper Potts in her bathrobe, not a trace of makeup on her face, a tissue in her hand. She’d been crying all right. 

“Oh.” She said faintly seeing Peter standing at the counter, the photo lying in front of him. “I didn’t see you Peter. Sorry, I just woke up feeling-’ Pepper gestured at the room in general as if to say ‘I just watched my husband die horrifically and now our retirement home is filled with sad heroes and I don’t know what to do.” But Peter didn’t say anything. He presented her with the box of crackers. “Still not talking much, hey?” She sniffled and ran a hand through Peter’s hair before reaching into the box of crackers. “Me too.”

Pepper bustled around the room preparing coffee. When she placed a mug next to him she noticed the picture and picked it up silently. She traced her fingers over the frame. “You know, he did it for you, Pete. He loved you.” Peter could have sprinted away at lightning speed, a rush of guilt balling up in his chest and stomach telling him to escape, but he forced himself to stand very still. Pepper kissed the top of his head and turned back to her coffee, smiling still. “He can rest now.” 

--

So there was some crying in the shower. One might call it hysterical, but Peter thought he did okay considering. If he’d gotten in before taking off his pyjamas, well. No one was around to see.

--

“Move over.” A voice grumbled over him. Peter was back in bed again that morning of the third day, and judging by the light slanting through the windows, it was probably still early. Thor stood over him looking quite gruff. “I can’t sleep on the floor anymore.” He said it politely enough, so Peter scooted over until he was laying practically at the edge of the double bed. Thor collapsed onto the other side and it hardly took a moment for him to fall fast asleep. 

Not wanting to consider why they had given him the bed in the first place- “He slept on the floor outside the morgue. If Tony could have seen-” Peter rolled over to check his phone. 39 Text Messages, 9 Voicemails. Peter groaned, he scrolled through the latest messages from May. 

May (6:43am)

Call me when you can. 

May (6:48am)

And text me that you’re okay. 

May (6:49am)

I larb you.

The familiar guilt returned and with it, the nausea. Peter thought he might throw up if he had to talk on the phone. He wanted to see May more than anything, more than seeing Tony again, more than eating a hot poptart right out of the toaster, but he couldn’t. It would break her heart, and with the sad eyes he was already getting from the Avengers collectively, Peter couldn’t do that to anyone else. He hastily replied. Larb u 2.

When Thor rolled over a moment later Peter found himself trapped under a huge outstretched arm. Being too tired to lift it- Thor must weigh 800 pounds, it was so heavy- he resigned himself to being crushed. With just bird calls and Thor’s faint snoring and Rocket and Quills quiet breathing to be heard in the room, Peter fell back asleep. 

--

That afternoon the Avengers seemed to be doing better. Rocket banged around in his spaceship now housed in the backyard with Nebula’s help. Quill was checking out Bucky’s motorcycle, though the assassin still seemed very uncomfortable at the lake house in general. Steve Rogers came and went on his bike. Peter thought he was taking comfort in doing damage control, if only to spare Pepper from doing it. She was taking a nap on the couch. 

The house was mostly quiet and so Peter was taking a moment of refuge to sit on the back porch with a cup of tea and his wool blanket. He didn’t know where it had come from, honestly, and it was outright filthy and dingy from getting dragged around the battlefield and the SHIELD compound for days. He was just drifting into space when the screen door swung open and a young brown haired teen stepped out. Peter recognized him as Harley Bennet, though they’d only met a couple times before the Snap and a couple times over video since the battle. 

“Peter.” He said, and Peter stood up shakily in his blanket. Harley extended a hand but then shook himself. “What am I doing-” and he pulled the younger boy in for a hug. When they pulled back Peter gave him a weak smile. “How’s it going here?” 

The young Avenger just shrugged his shoulders. A moment later a bounding blur of dark brown hair and blue pyjamas burst through the door. “Harley!” 

“Morguna! In the flesh!” He called, sweeping her into a spinning hug. “What’s up, lil sis?”

“I’m sad.” She said suddenly pouting. Peter grimaced. To his surprise Harley knelt down by her side. “Me too. But you know what Tony said about being sad?”

“What?” She asked innocently.

“It’s nothing blowing stuff up can’t fix.” He whispered. 

And so that’s how Peter, Morgan and Harley found themselves in the barn that afternoon, a frightening weapon tucked under Harley’s arms. The former two were still in their pyjamas, and all three wore safety goggles although Morgan’s were on askew. Peter reached over to adjust them and gave her a pat on the head, she smiled at him. 

“Nobody tell Pepper about this.” Harley said with wide eyes. 

“Don’t chicken out.” Morgan whined and received a rakish grin in return. 

“I won’t. I’m not. Listen. Tony talked about-” He made a funny gesture, “alien invasions sometimes when I was a kid, and it got me thinking, what would I do if they came? So I made this gun.”

Peter eyed the glowing gun suspiciously. The thought that this was a Very Bad Idea was starting to sprout in his mind. “I mean, it’s a potato gun, okay? It’s not like Tony was going to give me real ammo.”

“Com’n!” Morgan cried, and Harley grinned again. 

“Alright okay.” Harley shouldered the gun over the very poor barricade they made from a tipped over wheelbarrow and a barrel, pointing it at a bale of hay for Gerald’s lunch. “Check it out!” He said, and yanked on a lever which started a worrying, high pitched buzz. It cranked a couple times and sputtered. “Oh, come on.” Harley said, giving it a bat with his palm. Suddenly the gun fired up, and Peter just reached out to grab it just in time to point it at the target when it erupted, launching several potatoes at criminal velocities. “Ah!” They cried. The potatoes hurled through the bales, strands of hay cascaded everywhere, the potatoes made a hulking splutter sound on the other side as they crashed through the wood plank walls, splintered wood shot out the other side and someone cried “Oh my fucking god. Are you serious?!”

It was Rocket. Harley, Peter and Morguna looked at each other, at the erupted hay bale, at the light streaming through the hole in the wall, and at the potato gun. “Oh my god!” Peter whispered loudly. 

“Whoever that was, you are about to be dead.” Rocket said from outside. Peter grabbed the gun, hurled it under the nearest vehicle, grabbed Morgan and Harley and launched all three of them into the hay loft. 

Rockets shadow appeared before he did and he looked menacingly at the overturned wheelbarrow and scattered hay as he came around the corner. “Seriously? Whoever that was, come out now so I can shoot you in the face.” 

Morgan giggled, Harley and Peter covered her mouth, perfectly still in the scratchy hay. “Shh!” There was a strand poking Morgan right in the face, and she wrinkled her nose again as it itched. Nebula came around the corner looking just as unimpressed. She glanced over the scene and then at Rocket. “Children’s games.” She said.

“I got hit in the ass with a fucking potato.” The racoon complained. 

“Get over it.” She said walking away. Rocket glared into the dingh of the room. Morgan’s nose crinkled again and she shivered, and just as Rocket turned away, she let out a sneeze. He pinned the three of them with a look, probably marking a small oddly shaped mound of hay in the loft. The three children stayed very still and quiet for a second. Morgan looked at both Peter and Harley with huge brown orbs. After a moment Rocket rolled his eyes and looked off in the distance, probably at Nebula. “Well I can’t go and shoot Tony Stark’s kids in the face, can I? Where’s Quill?”

As soon as he rounded the corner, Morgan started giggling and squirming to get out of the hay causing it to slide out from under their feet until they all tumbled down onto the ground, Harley and Morgan giggling and tittering the whole time. They looked at Peter and started laughing anew. He looked down, his shirt was full of hay like an overstuffed scarecrow. 

“How far along are you?” Harley snickered. Peter huffed a laugh too. 

--

Tony’s ashes arrived that night. Pepper kept it quiet. She tucked the red silk bag into an old arc reactor Peter had never seen and placed it carefully into her dresser drawer. Peter watched from her bed. It was one of the only quiet spaces in the house around dinner. A bit of sensory overload and fatigue made him silent and sullen that afternoon and as soon as she caught wind she’d corralled Peter into bed with a cup of tea. They kept silent company, and when she was done, she sat in the occasional chair in the corner brushing out her hair while they watched TV. Eventually she started in on her cuticles, then disappeared to retrieve laundry from the dryer. 

“May is coming up for the funeral.” She told Peter handing him a freshly laundered hoodie. He pulled it on, it said MIT. Peter felt like he should tear it off immediately. “She’ll be here in the morning. Your apartment is still occupied,” she frowned, “I think you’ll have to stay a little longer.”

“Thanks.” Was all he said, but he accepted a bundle of socks passed to him.

“Are you sleeping okay? I heard Thor is sharing the bed with you.”

“Yeah.” Peter huffed a little. “It’s not so bad. He’s dead asleep most of the time.”

Pepper smiled knowingly and cocked her brows. “At least it’s not Bruce.”

--

Bruce was still in the hospital and for that Peter was grateful. The sight of Bruce’s burnt arm was enough to send the teen into a panic attack. 

Overall, Peter wasn’t so hard done by. After all, there were heroes strewn literally all over the property. Drax, Mantis and Groot slept in closets and hallways, Carol Danvers and Nebula camped in the backyard. Bucky Barnes and Captain America were at an abandoned motel not far up the road, and Sam and Rhodey took over the dining room at night. Harley slept on the couch, and Morgan in her own room was undisturbed. Rocket slept in a bed of clothes in a dresser drawer in Peter’s room, and Quill slept on a burnt mattress on the floor that had been pulled out of the Milano. Valkyrie had returned temporarily to Asgard with the help of Thor wielding Stormbreaker, but Thor stayed behind for, well… Peter had to imagine it was emotional comfort. He was the only other Avenger as pathetic as Peter, the boy thought, watching the huge hulking form curled up on the couch, cups of yoghurt strewn about the coffee table. Thor had been catapulting between emotions since the battle, but mostly he was just tired. 

“Can I ask you something?” Peter said about an hour after sitting in the otherwise quiet living room. Thor shrugged, now in one of his morose moods. “How old are you?” 

“Fifteen hundred, give or take. The years aren’t as important when you are as old as Asgardians are.” 

Peter sat in thought for a while. The house was starting to show signs of life, laughter could be heard outside and in the halls sometimes, he even thought Pepper sounded alright talking to Happy on the phone that day. “Do you do birthdays?”

Thor shrugged. “Sometimes. Every fifty years or so. We had one at my inauguration, although looking back, maybe it wasn’t the right moment to celebrate, as it set my brother on a path of destruction that eventually led to Thanos killing him.” He supined. His nose was stuffed up. 

“Oh.” The boy sat a moment longer sensing the sadness wash over the man, but even if he wanted to join Thor’s wallowing, Peter was starting to feel the pricklings of relief swell up under the surface tension of his grief. “We should have a birthday. Tonight. To celebrate.”

“...To celebrate?”

“To celebrate.” It didn’t sound all that convincing to Peter either, but anything was better than this. 

--

They had a birthday. It was cramped. Like, really cramped. The seventeen people in the vicinity of the house were stuffed into the little kitchen, Morgan sat on Thor’s lap. The god of thunder was dressed in a little pink frilly apron. Harley was sticking a ridiculous number of sparklers on the cake in the other room with the help of Rocket and Drax. Bucky and Nebula stood stolidly in the back hall, Carol Danvers stood in the back door. Pepper sat next to Thor, and Quill and Mantis were eating icing off of a spoon. Sam stood in a narrow broom cupboard holding his beer to his chest. Steve Rogers stood behind Thor, a beacon of comfort and resolution in the sea of calamity. Groot sat on another stool playing his video game, and Rhodey sat by Peter on the other side, very much on board with a drink in his hand. “This is great.” He said. “Nice one Parker.”

“Thanks.” Peter croaked. He felt more awake than he had in days. Morgan braided Thor’s beard while they waited, and when the cake came out, they sang Happy Birthday haphazardly while Harley carried the cake. The sparklers burst into a ball of flames as soon as the cake was set on the table. Thor scrunched up his face, “Fiend!” and shot the cake with lightning, strawberry icing exploded in every direction. Pepper laughed first, then Rocket and Drax laughed, Mantis and Quill laughed and Harley, Morgan and Thor laughed, and soon everyone was laughing, and Peter was laughing too. 

--

“That was a good call.” Sam said idling up to him that evening. Peter found solace on the back porch. The lake was beautiful to look at in the night. “Morale was running a little low.”

Peter’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “Thor’s morale was low. I dunno about everyone else.”

“Everyone else too. You just get better at hiding it when you get older.” He tucked his chin. “I know we just celebrated his like thousandth birthday-”

“Fifteen hundred and something-” Peter corrected.

“-But Thor’s not that much older than you are. Maybe a bit. He’s younger than Steve.” Sam said definitively. 

“Well everyone’s younger than Steve.” 

“Good point.”

--

This time when Peter went to the snack cupboard in the middle of the night, Nebula and Carol were in the kitchen sitting in relative silence, and Rhodey was reading in the other room.

“Hey.” He waved. Nebula and Carol nodded. 

“Is Thor snoring again? I can go punch him.” Carol joked. Peter smiled bashfully.

“It’s all right. I don’t mind.”

“It’s Quill that’s worse.” Nebula supplied. That was probably the first time she’d ever spoken to him, and he nodded guiltily. 

“He’s been mumbling in his sleep.”

“About what?”

“Kevin Bacon. He, uh…”

“He was in the movie footloose.” Carol said. Nebula rolled her eyes. 

“Of course.” 

“Well, I guess if Peter’s up that means it’s bed time.” Carol stood up groggily. “Nice sitting in silence with you.” She chirped to her companion. Nebula nodded. Carol ruffled his hair on the way out.

What remained of the birthday cake sat on the counter so Peter grabbed a fork and took a huge mound. Nebula was looking past him, and when he turned around to follow her line of sight, he saw the picture again, the one of him and Tony. 

“You were Stark’s ward.” She stated. Peter didn’t immediately reply, eyes shifting sideways out the far window. “He was the first person to ever be kind to me without expecting anything in return.” She caressed the exposed panel of electronics running from her forehead to her crown. “After the battle on Titan he fixed my head using metal from his own armor. And... he taught me how to play paper football.” 

“That’s just how he was.” He mumbled around a mouthful of cake. In the other room, Rhodey was smiling into his book, eavesdropping. He had a new prosthetic exo-support pulled from a backup supply in Tony’s garage. 

Still looking at the photo, she continued. “Thanos was my father, and people will shudder at the memory of him for eternity. But he's not the one people will ask about.” 

Ears hot, Peter swallowed around the lump ever present in his throat, but there were no tears now. If anything, he was relieved. He shoved another forkful of cake into his mouth and stood up, striding away from the table. From the other room Rhodey piped up. “Oh my god. Was that the most words you’ve ever said?” Nebula raised her middle finger. “It gets worse. Who taught you that?” 

She smirked. “You can blame Barton.” Rhodey rolled his eyes. 

“Of course. That guy is a douchebag.” It sounded bad, but Rhodey said it warmly and smiled as he returned to his book. Peter swung back around with the platter of cake and set it down in front of Nebula. 

“You’re pretty cool.” Then he asked hopefully. “Can I fix your headpiece too?”

--

They used Tony’s battle armor, the one he’d been wearing when he died. It was piled up in the garage, or at least what could be salvaged. Burnt, cracked, bent and shredded, the sight of it served a visceral reminder of the battle. Until now, no one dared go near it. 

It took time for Peter to build up the nerve to touch it, and before he could, Nebula pried a piece off the left arm. She might as well have pried his heart from his chest, but Peter quelled his nerve and set to work, pilfering tools from Tony’s lab like Pepper said he could. By the time the other Avengers rolled around, Nebula had a new head plate,  striking gold cut from the last Iron Man ever made. Over the brow it was inscribed, “MK2.”

--

May arrived bright and early that morning and the first thing she did was hug Peter, then pulled back, then hugged him again. “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my-”

“May. It’s alright. I’m fine, see?” Peter said, holding out his arms. 

May Parker was not one to be fooled, however, and scooped the boy into her arms again. “My baby boy. All grown up and saving the universe.” She swept a tear from her eye and then turned to Pepper, sweeping her up as well. Pepper might have needed it, she sighed deeply. 

“Are you holding up okay?”

“As well as expected.” Pepper sniffled pulling away. “It’ll be nice to have another normal person around the house. There are too many manful tears happening here.” 

May was introduced to Harley and Morgan, then to the rest of the Avengers. The lot of them and others returning from afar were changing into funeral clothes. Soon the funeral would be over, and that would be it. The Avengers would dissemble, and Peter would be on his own. 

--

During the funeral he held back his tears. It was hardly his first time burying a loved one. He stayed quiet and still, and when it was over, he sat on the dock with Morgan while the adults reminisced about Tony, and about Natasha. “I miss daddy.” Came her little voice from his side. 

Peter nodded mutely, swallowing his sadness. The wind over the lake blew their hair back, and Peter rubbed little circles on her back as she sniffled. “Don’t you miss him?” She asked. He nodded again around the lump in his throat. When he couldn’t hold back his tears he wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of his suit. “Your dad was my hero.” Morgan rested her head against him. 

“He was your dad too.” 

He couldn’t respond to that, he didn’t know how to explain the complexities of their brief relationship to his mentor’s actual blood relative, so he just stayed silent. Maybe in a few years, Morgan would understand that she was Tony’s only child, not him. But then Peter thought back to Pepper Potts in the kitchen at 5am making them a pot of coffee in the dark, and Peter wasn’t so sure. 

“He did it for you, Pete. He loved you.” 

--

Shuri took Peter for ice-cream at the diner nearby. They walked in their funeral clothes despite the rain and sleet that started that afternoon, and the ice-cream compounded the cold, but it was fun. “And so I asked them-” She recounted, “why couldn't they unlock my phone. They said it’s company policy. So I took it apart right then and there and manually unbricked it. And guess what?” She laughed, she had ice-cream on her lip and Peter was suddenly struck by how attractive she was.

“What?” He gushed back. 

“They banned me from the store.” 

Peter laughed while she lamented about getting tossed from a Tek-i-Mobile. By the time they arrived back at the house, covered in freezing mud and rosy cheeked from the wind, he was feeling almost normal. 

--

That night- the last they would spend all together, there was a Mario Kart tournament. Even Pepper clad in pin striped pyjamas joined in the cajoling, Morgan sat in her lap. Shuri, Peter and Harley had the obvious edge, but Rocket was a close competitor. Bets went around. Money changed hands. Then Quill and Thor got into an argument and it ended in a milk gauntlet challenge, at which point Pepper banished them from the house and they threw up milk in the backyard. 

“I’m sorry about this.” Peter told Pepper seriously. Somehow, this was his fault. She heaved a little sigh and smiled. 

“Believe me, if you’d spent much time with them before, you’d know to expect this.” She paused for a moment and her nose wrinkled as she smiled, just like Morgan. “Tony would have loved this.” And she snapped a picture on her phone. 

At that moment, Peter knew he would give anything to have Tony back. What he didn't know was that soon, he would.

[curlystom]

written — peter parker

a/n: phew! so this is a repost from my old blog which i regretfully deleted (a story that i will go into another time) but i’m back! since all of my college courses are online now, i have been writing like crazy! expect to see some familiar and new stories soon. i have a lot planned. it’s good to be back (:

You admired the faint stars scattered across the night, winter sky as the bus slowed to a stop. The fluffy snow covered everything in its track, making it impossible for you to appreciate the true New York beauty. Your grip on your shoulder strap loosened, grateful that you didn’t have to carry the thousand pound backpack any longer.  The tension in your shoulder throbbed as your carried textbooks begged to be put down, massaging the area once you plopped down in an empty row.

The cold air from outside contradicted with the warmth inside the vehicle, making the windows fog. You scooted yourself towards the edge of the bus and tugged on your hoodie sleeve so you could wiped the glass, leaving thin lines of water droplets behind. 

The blinking street lamps you passed by barely illuminated the area around it. The light reflected off the pure, white snow so effortlessly, making the dark night seem a bit brighter. It was a sight you would have loved to appreciate, but the radiance was blurred by the fog and your eyes squinted at the difference in brightness. 

You twiddled with your fingers, memories of the last few hours replaying like your favorite movie. A smile tugged your lips the more you thought about it. 

Open textbooks were sprawled out all across the library table, your laptop resting among them along with a few bags of chips and power drinks. Your cheek rested against your palm, strands of your y/h/c hair falling in front of your face. Attempting to blow them out of your face, you glared when the seemingly easy task was failing. 

Your arm fell against the table as you rested your head against your upper arm, wanting to let your eyes flutter close so badly. Studying for over 6 hours had taken its toll on you and it was very evident. The darkening under eyes and pale complexion gave you away.

A cup of coffee was exaggeratedly placed in front of you, forcing your eyes to open. Peter’s hands were on either side of him, resting against the table as he tilted his head to the side to look at you, a small smiling forming at the sight.

“You look like complete shit.” His lips were forced into a hard line, trying to muffle his laughter from other surrounding students.

You groaned, a fake cry leaving as you sank into the uncomfortable chair, the cushion no longer giving you the support you desperately needed. 

Your hands covered your tired face, “God, I know. You don’t need to remind me. I’ve been here for over 6 hours.”

“Which is why..,” he scooted the coffee closer to you, “I got you that.”

He pulled the remaining chair from under the table, forcing you to place your feet back on the ground and unmask your face from him. Hesitating for a bit, you couldn’t resist his offer and slowly started to grab the drink, keeping your eyes on him. His eyebrows raised at your reaction as he slowly took a seat, crossing his legs and intertwining his fingers.

Your eyes examined the outside, squinting to make sure there was nothing off about this specific drink. His eyes were locked on you, an eyebrow raised as to why you were acting so strange. Perhaps the coffee would wake you up a bit. Your lips met the plastic cover, a slight burning sensation coming over your tongue as you took a small sip. You were truly too tired to panic.

The bitter taste lingered in your mouth, slowly approving the drink by smacking your lips together and giving a slow nod. He sighed in relief as you went to take another sip, thankful that he had made the right call on what coffee to get you. He turned around the books to see what you had been buried in the past few hours, asking questions about what your upcoming exam was about.

You weren’t listening.

Your eyes examined every part of his face as your lips softly brushed against the coffee lid, taking in every detail one by one.

His freckles replicated the bright stars above you, scattered in the most beautiful way possible. The red tint in his cheeks slowly began to fade into his pale skin, growing more comfortable with the temperature change. A few loose curls fell in front of his face seamlessly, your urge to run your fingers through his locks becoming stronger. His brown orbs exhibited small gold flecks as they scanned the pages, your lips parting at just how mesmerizing they were to look at.

He was breathtaking.

“Y/N?”

Your eyelids flickered as you shook your head, the coffee taking its time to fully sink in your system. Forcing your eyelids to stay open, you took a deep breath in as you fully gave your attention to the boy in front of you. “Hm?”

“Are you okay?” His eyebrows pinched together in concern, “You zoned out.”

“Jus’ exhausted.” You lied, taking another sip of your coffee. He gave you a small, sympathetic smile before forcing his lips into a tight line. 

His eyes scanned the many books in front of you, developing a headache just by looking at them. He gripped the wooden arm rests and pushed himself up, closing each book and began to pack them in your bag.

You stood up as well, placing your cup of coffee on the table with your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “W-what are you doing?” You grabbed the books from his grasp, immediately deeping a deep breath when you felt how warm his touch was. A flustered laugh begged to escape but you bit the inside of your mouth from letting that happen.

“I am helping you pack up.” He gently closed your laptop and slipped it in its case, placing it in your backpack and zipping it up nicely. “You need to get some sleep.”

You opened your mouth to protest his actions and to try and convince him that you were fine, but it was no use. Waving his index finger at you, he held the strap of your backpack and encouraged you to take it and go home. A groan left your lips as you rolled your eyes, exaggeratedly grabbing the strap from him and throwing it over your shoulder. Your hand gripped around the coffee while the other waved at Peter, his face displaying a look of “you know i’m right”. 

He was always right. It was a love/hate relationship with you. The boy never seemed to answer any question wrong, and his morals and values were ones you’d dream of in a partner. There was truly nothing wrong about the boy, and it was no shocker that you’d fallen head over heels for him.

You had been lucky enough to become his friend over the last 4 years. Having the same communications class definitely sparked a flame between the two of you, instantly becoming partners for every project and studying together. The chemistry you had with each other was undeniable, and it made it even harder not to fall in love with him.

He was everything you aspired to be. His aunt, who is the sweetest lady you’d ever met, received so much affection and love from her nephew, you couldn’t help but smile everytime you saw them together. He tutored other fellow students and volunteered with charities in his free time, truly surprised that he had any. 

Peter was a busy guy, and the fact he still made sure to check up on you was the cherry on top.

Heat rushed to the apples of your cheeks at the thought of him, your hands covering them as much as you could so no one could see how flustered you had gotten. You bit your lip to prevent an excited squeal from slipping through, your eyes shutting close before slowly opening, staring out the glass.

The previously wiped area on the window had developed a new layer of fog, covering the entire area again. Water droplets stood still despite the the movement of the bus, your eyes admiring each and every one of them. Downtown New York was barely visible through the fogged glass, but the sight, nevertheless, was still breathtaking.

Colorful lights illuminated the night sky, the light peeking through the fog and displaying on your lap. Your hand peeked through the sleeve of your hoodie as you held out your index finger, meeting it with the freezing glass and traced Peter’s name with a little heart next to it.

A few droplets formed on your side of the glass, sliding down the newly written name. The wet residue resided on your finger before you wiped it off on your jeans, smiling at the letters on the window. The bus had slowed to a stop, and the surroundings indicated that this was your stop. You took one last look  at the window before grabbing the strap of your backpack, thanking the bus driver, and stepping off the bus.

Peter sat a few rows behind you, his eyes following you as you departed. A small smile tugged at his lips at how carelessly beautiful you were. A few pieces from you bun were curled, framing your face perfectly. A rosy tint colored your cheeks, either from the frosty weather or being flustered. The way your corners of your eye crinkled when you smiled made his heart pound against his chest, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. You were unlike anyone he had ever seen.

His eyes trailed back to where you were previously sitting and landed on the fogged glass. The letters you had written were slowly disappearing but it was legible enough for him to read. He had watched you trace your finger along the frosted glass, seeing the slight flinch you made when you realized how cold it was, but you had placed it just right where anyone behind couldn’t see it. 

The butterflies in his stomach intensified by 100, and his heart seemed to have beat faster when he comprehended what you had wrote. You, a beautiful, intelligent, and compassionate girl, felt nearly the same way he did about you. Time played a big role in this particular moment. He had met you years ago, unsure of his feelings for you and never really tested the waters. He remained close friends with you, bringing you coffee during your late study sessions and advising you to do what was best. 

He was scared to break that wall, not wanting to change a relationship he was very appreciative of. The last thing he wanted to do was lose you, but now he was going to fight for you until his last dying breath. 

[dust2dust34]

Four Walls (Of Law Firms and Honey) - Olicity AU, Explicit

Summary: Oliver is Felicity’s boss at Queen & Queen, a prestigious international law firm. She’s the tech genius, he’s the top dog’s son, and they viciously disagree on nearly everything. Despite that, they work together, neither outright acknowledging the ever-present simmering attraction that has slowly been growing hotter and hotter…

Until a chance meeting at a grocery store one night has them crossing a line, a tiny little line that was never meant to be crossed.

A collection of ficlets in the same ‘verse: Of Law Firms and Honey.

Rated: Explicit

Full fic: AO3 | Tumblr | Timeline

Reminder: Please read the story tags and notes at the beginning of each chapter.

This fic is being told out of order. Please see the timeline to read them in order. Please see the previous installments for additional author notes and story information.

Check out the Four Walls playlist, and if you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them!

Additional A/N: This is the other ficlet I planned for a generous donor in the Fic For Food Drive I took part in. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Chapter Summary: Flash Fic #4. She finds him in a coffee shop.

(read on AO3)

8:27 a.m. Gilded Bean (Flash Fic #4)

The bustle of the coffee shop encompassed him in a pleasant haze.

Sipping his coffee, Oliver scrolled through his email on his phone, enjoying the relaxing slant of his shoulders caused by the chatter behind him, the footsteps of people hustling to the counter, the distinct sound of beverages being crafted. It complimented the busy downtown street outside the window he faced, the people rushing by, cars stopping and going, the sky clear for once, letting sunshine spill on the world.

He savored it, knowing he would be going back to his quiet office for the board meeting in thirty minutes.

Pinpricks of anxiety slithered over him.

Oliver sucked in a breath and quickly looked up at the busy world. His fingers tightened around his coffee cup, so hard the top nearly popped off. He fixed his eyes on signs of life - the strands falling from a woman’s braid, a man digging in his back pocket, a dog prancing by on a thin leash, the woman walking it staring at her phone, a dent in a passing car, a man talking to someone in the backseat of another car, pieces of hair sticking to the corner of someone’s mouth, a woman’s lips as she sang along to whatever came out of her headphones.

He clung to everything before him, holding it close, despite being outside of all of it.

A chime told him he had fifteen minutes to get back to the office.

He didn’t move. Instead, eyes not straying from the mosaic of life, he set his phone down and rubbed his thumb along the ridge of his index finger. The motion soothed him enough that he settled, his heart rate slowing. He calculated how long he could stay until he had to run back to the office to make it in time.

Six minutes.

Ten if he really booked it.

“Hey.”

Oliver froze.

For a split second he wondered if he was imagining it. He’d heard her voice enough over the last several months, whispering through his thoughts, and dreamt about it even more than that. It had become a permanent fixture in his mind during those days drifting on the ocean, memories coming to life, haunting him until he wasn’t sure if he was praying for death or for her.

A hint of her perfume sliced through the smell of coffee.

Oliver breathed it in, deeply, as the warmth of a person sitting down next to him fully registered.

Holding his breath, he turned.

His heart slammed into the floor.

God, she was a sight for sore eyes. She looked the same - her hair back in a high ponytail, dark-framed glasses, bright pop of color on her lips, her earrings exactly how he remembered them - but she was different, too. Calmer. Softer. A casual confidence made the air around her shimmer.

She was stunning, even more than he remembered, and all he could do was stare as the full breadth of how much he missed her hit him square in the chest.

“Felicity.”

A hint of a smile touched her lips and the quiet beauty of it shredded his insides.

“Don’t think I’ll ever be used to that,” she said with a little laugh.

Oliver huffed out a noise, something caught between a chuckle and a grunt, mostly because he felt like he should acknowledge her words somehow. And because his voice was gone.

He stared at her, his mind whirling.

He hadn’t seen her since the bluff last year, their bluff, a few weeks after he’d been found in the North China Sea. She’d found him on the cliff’s edge, staring at the water crashing into the rocks down below. To this day, he still didn’t know if he would have jumped, but then it hadn’t mattered, because she was there. And the second she touched him, he’d fallen apart, collapsing into her arms, breaking under the weight of all of it.

… the Gambit flipping in the frenzied sea, going under… terrified shouts for help from the crew before the ocean tore them away… his father shooting the captain in the face… propping himself on the edge of the raft, telling Oliver it was the only way before putting a bullet in his own head… Oliver’s frantic screams as he fought the rough ocean waves to get his father’s body back… the sea sweeping his father away, so far away, taking the gun with him… floating, for days on end, so many days, knowing he was going to die… hoping for it… wishing for it… so much that when the shadow of the freighter appeared, he finally felt a modicum of peace knowing it was all over…

But it wasn’t. He was still alive.

And the world was unchanged, unaffected, unaware.

She was the only one who knew what had happened out there. The words had come tumbling out in a fervor of raw emotion, running together, his tears blurring the edges until he was nothing but a sobbing mess that she held together all through the night.

Then that was it. They went back to their separate lives - her to a life that didn’t involve him, and him to continue his life with McKenna.

Except here she was, in all her beautiful glory, glowing with all the light he’d taken for granted.

“Hi,” he whispered.

It was all he had.

Her brow furrowed and he watched that familiar line appear between her brows. It always announced her troubled thoughts, no matter how hard she tried to hide them. His mouth went dry. Was she regretting sitting here? Did she wish she’d turned and left instead? They didn’t have much of anything to say anymore, did they? Not now. Not after everything. But the thought of her walking away again sent a white hot knife slicing through his gut and Oliver opened his mouth to beg her not to leave, even though he knew he didn’t deserve it…

She didn’t leave.

With a tiny whisper of his name, Felicity grasped his hand.

Choking on a surge of emotion, Oliver’s eyes dropped to where she touched him. How many times had they touched? In how many ways? Hundreds. Thousands. It was countless, and yet it felt like the first time he was feeling her skin against his. She was as soft as ever, and so damned warm. It wasn’t until this moment that he fully appreciated just how frozen he still was at his core.

His fingers curled around hers, his heart cracking when she held him back.

His phone chimed.

Oliver started, blinking rapidly, only realizing in that moment that tears had been filling his eyes. He swallowed hard as he glanced at his phone.

Five minutes.

“Damn it,” he breathed.

She tugged her hand out of his and the loss carved a jagged hole in his center.

“I have to go, too, actually,” Felicity said, sliding off the barstool. Her front grazed his arm in the miniscule space between them before she stepped free. She offered him another smile. “It was good seeing you, Oliver.”

“Yeah,” he replied.

Absently. Automatically. Blankly. Just going through the motions.

Which was all he’d been doing, wasn’t it? For months now. Floating through life, doing what he thought he was supposed to do, filling shoes he felt woefully inadequate in, going home to someone who barely pierced the surface of his heart.

And he was doing it here, with her.

He didn’t want to be numb anymore.

Oliver surged off his barstool, towards her. The coffee shop was busy, people loitering in line, baristas yelling names, glasses hitting tabletops, utensils hitting plates. All of it was suddenly so viciously clear that it hurt his ears, but none of it mattered as he looked at her.

A thousand words hovered on his tongue. None of them came out, nothing but…

“Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Felicity said, her smile warming. She grasped his bicep and pushed up onto her toes to kiss his cheek. Oliver’s eyes slammed shut and he instinctively leaned into her, his heart damn near ricocheting off his chest plate when she lingered for a second longer than necessary. Her lips moved over his stubble as she said, “Of course.”

As if it was a given.

As if he deserved it.

Oliver let out a ragged exhale and pressed his cheek to hers. She paused, but she didn’t pull away, like he thought she would. Like she probably should. Instead her hand tightened on his arm and then she pressed back, a stuttered breath dancing over the shell of his ear.

They lingered there, caught in the in-between, suspended between the past and the present, and a future that didn’t exist.

He knew nothing about her life anymore. He didn’t know what she had been up to. He didn’t know what she did with her time. He had specifically gone out of his way to avoid looking her up, because it was a closed door that needed to stay that way.

But she was also here, right here, right before him.

“Felicity,” he whispered, his hands finding her elbows, tentative, unsure.

I miss you.

With a ragged gasp, Felicity slid her arm around his neck and tugged him into her.

Relief shot through him and he sagged into her arms.

They hugged each other, tight, grasping, clinging so tight it hurt. Her nails bit through his jacket, a whimper he hoped he wasn’t imagining slipping out as she used her hold on him to yank him down closer to her. He pulled her flush against him, burying his face in her shoulder, and then her neck. The lapel of her jacket got in the way and he nosed it out of the way so he could breathe in that unique scent that was all Felicity. She smelled so good, so perfect, and something deep inside him slid into place, a missing piece he hadn’t realized was missing. A piece he hadn’t wanted to admit was missing. Because he needed it, like the air in his lungs, and the thought of living life without it for even one more second had him gasping her name again and pulling her in even more.

He had to leave. So did she. They had lives to live, lives that didn’t involve each other anymore.

But neither of them moved, not until someone bumped into them, breaking the moment. Even then, when they parted, they lingered in each other’s bubble, so much flying between them that he didn’t know where to begin thinking about it, much less talk about it.

They did finally part, though, and went their separate ways.

But they didn’t say anything, because they didn’t have to.

This was enough.

It had to be.

*

Thank you for reading! Reviews literally feed the soul and muse.

[mistraliprincess]

The pale eyes of the Fujiki settle on a tapestry rolled and stowed into a corner of the record room. A brow rising, not recalling the sight of it prior, yet oddly enough seeming familiar. Purple fabric resembling that of the Fujiki family’s Wisteria tree, golden accents, a small few hints of white. It drew her curiosity and attention in full, urging her closer so that she may retrieve it to inspect the piece in it’s entirety. Careful hands reaching to grab the work, lifting it from behind the shelves it had been set, and carefully threading it through the larger gap a little higher.

Right away she could tell this wasn’t as old as well over half of what was within this room. That this was made at least somewhat recently, within the past century. From the look and feel of it, the little patterns that could be felt beneath her finger tips, and the quality of it’s make, it was made by her people without a doubt. If only she could find a name proper, only being able to address those that followed her family as “her people” and only hearing such term from the past three generations. They were Mistrali now, as far as the world of Remnant cared, had been since being accepted in during the Great War all those years ago.

Yet, something about it made it clear to her that this was pre-great war. She’d figure the reason soon enough, approaching the large table set center the room to place it down on the wooden surface. Gentle touch guiding the tapestry to unroll down the length of the table, finding that in it’s full size, it just barely fit atop the furniture piece. Now showing it’s imagery as a whole, the thin golden border an inch in from the edges of the purple background, white marks dotting the piece across the entire thing. Just small little dashes of the pale shade, streaks guiding inward from the golden frame toward the center. At which point sat the shape of a crystal, akin to those of Dust crystals that are widely sold. 

Akin to the crystal she mysteriously awoke with a while back, in both shape and color. The only difference being this was a solid, opaque form, while the crystal itself was transparent, nearly see-through. Her brows furrowing with some wonder at what this possibly could mean. Her mind setting to race through the possibilities, through the records she’d read through and attempted to make sense of. Nothing made sense though with the tapestry in mind, nothing connected to it, at least nothing she had gone through already. That was one thing that had infuriated her for a while during her research, the absolute lack of anything about that crystal she had stored away in her room.

It’d only be when her eyes begin scanning over the tapestry again that she’d come to notice something... but it couldn’t be, it was such a little thing that it couldn’t possibly be important... Yet at the same time it seemed to deliberate not to be. The little lines marking the banner moving toward the crystal in it’s center were set in a specific pattern and shape. As if marking a general form with a void where something wasn’t. An idea came to her mind, one which made her straighten to look about the room. There was paper and pencil in here somewhere...

The desk by the entry, her attention snapping to the furniture in question and urging her feet to carry her over. Opening the wide top drawer, the open package of papers along the right side was first to catch her sight. Forgoing a single page, she retrieves the package as a whole, closing the drawer and opening a smaller one beside it to retrieve a writing utensil. A swift return to the table with the art piece atop it would follow, allowing Kemuri to set the package of papers into a space without the white dashes across it’s surface.

Stepping around, she bends over to retrieve a single piece, lining it into a top corner of the tapestry and pressing down to find the point the dashes of pale fabric end beneath it. Taking pencil to the paper, she lightly drags it along from the golden border to the opposite edge of the page, connecting the ends of the raised lines together one by one until she reached the end of the page. Leaving the first where it was to grab a second and line it up next to the first, repeating the process. Running through this two times more, she could already see a familiar pattern.

A coast line, one of Mistral,  a section of a map.

A map to what, however... her next hour would be spent connecting the strips of white among the tapestry with lines across papers. Rather roughly copying the whole artifact’s surface within the golden border over many pieces of loose paper. Determined to find the map of Remnant within her household and attempt to match the vague map with a true visual, at least, until the moment her head abruptly pulsed with pain. Her vision blurring with the drawn out discomfort, she blinks trying to clear it as her hand rose to press against her temple.

The single blink proving unhelpful, instead bringing a figure to her sight. That multi-color figure from the memory, from under the Wisteria, just barely visible. Disappearing from sight with her next blink, still her sight kept blurred, though it’d thankfully clear with the third. Alone, in the record room, within the Fujiki household, as had been the case the past while. Accompanied only by the lingering pain in her head, though that had thankfully calmed a fair bit. Yet it still left her dizzy, uncomfortable atop her feet. Signs that she knew she had to stop and rest.

Kemuri takes a brief minute to gather the papers, setting them stacked atop the desk by the door before she’d take her leave. Looking back briefly to the tapestry still unrolled, the package of papers and pencil still atop. Groaning a little she turned away again to head through and to the staircase to climb to her room. A night of rest, recovered eyes will match the vague guide and a proper map later.

[aelaer]

Whumptober Day 9: Shackled

Don't ask me about canon timing because I think this is one of those "canon shmanon" type of timelines in this story. Thanos and five years just screws up everything, man.

This also got a bit longer, soooo cut! (assuming tumblr doesn’t mess it up). I don’t think any warnings particularly apply here, beyond your usual bad guy shenanigans.

Fandom: Still Doctor Strange / MCU

9. Shackled

For reasons unknown to Stephen, the group of dark occultists from another dimension were specifically looking for him and him alone. They said as much when they came to the New York Sanctum to try and overwhelm him the first time.

(For some reason they were surprised by the fact that Stephen was all but immediately joined by half a dozen other Masters and quickly retreated. Did they really think he wouldn't have any backup? That Kamar-Taj would just leave him to it?)

Several acolytes and more adept apprentices were looking for information on how they came to their dimension in the first place and trying to locate their point of origin. Many masters, in the meantime, were looking for where this group was hiding, but they managed to mask their presence well. When a week passed with no sightings, they reluctantly agreed to alert the Avengers of the group's existence, loath as all the masters were in admitting their failure in finding them quickly. But they were too great a potential threat to keep a secret for any longer.

Another week passed with no ground gained on finding them. They were able to pinpoint their entry point on their dimension's earth, which meant they had more resources as to how they got there in the first place. At least it was something.

Then everything changed with a knock at the New York Sanctum's door. Stephen opened it and found a woman in scrubs on his doorstep.

She seemed familiar. He looked at her name tag and old memories from years ago flew into his mind.

"Laura?" Laura was a pediatric doctor at Metro-General; she often worked with their long-term patients, and there were a handful of occasions that he had done surgery on one of "her darling brood of children", as she'd say with a grin as he'd scoff.

But Laura's usually cheerful face was absent, and her dark skin unusually pale and tight about her eyes as she answered, "I need you to come with me."

He may have not seen her in years, but it didn't take a genius to see that she was distressed. "Laura, what's wrong?"

"Please," she answered, then pressed her lips into a tight line.

Stephen felt the cloak tighten about his shoulders, obviously sensing his own dread. "Alright," he murmured, and stepped out of the Sanctum, not bothering with a glamour spell for his clothes. She immediately descended the two steps and began her way east down Bleecker Street. He ignored the stares from those they passed and kept one eye on Laura's tense frame as the other kept a lookout for threats.

They came to a small side alley with a dumpster blocking half of its width. She turned there and he followed, readying himself for an ambush.

But there was no one there. Rather Laura pulled out what looked like some sort of burner phone— her hand was shaking— and she flipped it open and pressed a couple buttons until she pulled up a picture of what appeared to be some warehouse interior.

"They said you can get there with a picture. We need to go there."

He frowned at her words and studied the picture, then looked back at her. "Who do they have as leverage?" he asked softly.

She took in a shaky breath. "Four children. Patients."

Stephen balked; these assholes had kidnapped kids with cancer? "How long ago?" These kids were on strict dietary and medication schedules due to the diseases they were fighting, and deviation from those could lead to unpleasant side effects that made it difficult for adults, never mind children.

"About an hour," Laura answered, assuaging his fears of immediate detrimental effects. She continued quickly, lowly, "I heard you had become a superhero of some sort, Stephen, but these guys have abilities I've never seen from any of the Avengers. There's a lot of them, and for some reason they want you."

At her words, he closed his eyes briefly. He really should have suspected it earlier; he just never thought any enemy in his new world would think to target people from his old one. "I believe I know who they are. I am so sorry you were dragged into this, Laura."

"I wish it was just me and not the kids," she replied, and he couldn't argue there. "I could've told them where to stick it if that were the case. But they have my patients, and they said if you tried to call for help or bring anyone, they'll kill them." She looked down at the phone. "And if we don't go soon, I'm afraid they'll start to get suspicious."

Stephen pressed his lips together and nodded. "I would tell you to stay behind, but I know you won't listen."

She frowned at him. "I'm not leaving the children alone." 

"I know." Without further ado, he placed his sling ring upon his shaking hand and drew a portal against the wall to open into the pictured warehouse. Laura hardly hesitated at its sight before following him towards it, and they stepped into the room. He let the gateway fizzle closed behind them.

As expected, he was surrounded by the same nine occultists that they had been searching for for two weeks. To the side were four children, probably ranging from seven to thirteen, sitting huddled together on the ground. Laura gave him one last apologetic look before walking slowly towards them, so as to not alarm her captors with sudden movement. She hardly needed to worry, as all of them were more or less solely focused on Stephen.

He did his best to keep his tone even. "Well, you wanted me. Here I am."

One of them stepped forward. "You are to come with us, Doctor Strange."

Stephen answered calmly, "Without a fight, I presume."

"If you wish not to face the consequences of such actions, then yes. You will surrender now."

He kept his eyes upon the spokesman rather than looking towards Laura and the kids. "And I am also to presume that if I follow these actions, you will let them go unharmed."

"Yes. They have served their purpose."

"I need more than that," Stephen replied, voice even and unmoving. "I need your word on behalf of all in your company that all five of them will remain unharmed and left in an environment non-detrimental to their survival." A sudden thought came to mind, and he added, "And my Cloak remains behind with them to serve as some form of protection." Behind him, he felt the Cloak stiffen.

The head occultist seemed somewhere between bemused and irritated by his demands; to give one's word as a sorcerer had a good deal more permanent effect than other beings. Spoken oaths had some sort of seal to make them stick amongst magic users with rather nasty consequences if broken. Eventually, he replied, "I give you my word on behalf of myself and my company that we will meet your demands in exchange for your complete and utter surrender."

Complete and utter surrender. To demand that of him meant he could not fight directly against them without consequence to his person. Stephen briefly closed his eyes and exhaled in quiet resignation. "I accept your terms."

He felt a shift in the atmosphere as the powers that wove reality together sealed their agreement. Three of them immediately moved towards him.

Still the Cloak clung onto him, reluctant to do as bid. There was no time for argument. Go, he ordered silently, offering no room for protest, and the garment detached itself from his shoulders and darted around the approaching occultists to Laura and her patients. From the corner of his eye he saw their terror turn briefly into wonder at its approach. A better memory for the children, at least.

Stephen was brought back to his own predicament as his arms were wrenched behind his back. They took his sling ring and then his wrists were secured with thick manacles that extended down to his hands and fingers, forcing them to curl inward in a manner that already hurt them. He forced himself to remain silent.

He could not, however, quite hold his tongue at the sight of what appeared to be some sort of gag that resembled a horse's bit. "You can't be serious," he said, instinctively pulling his head back.

"And have you utter any sort of spells?" asked their spokesman. "I think not."

Utter spells? Were they for real? Apparently they were, because they were coming in with the damn gag and he had little choice but to submit to it, irksome as it was.

The two holding onto his arms remained there even as another three of them started drawing sigils he did not recognize into the air. He quickly took them in, memorizing their formation and the order they appeared as best as he was able to. Then suddenly, the warehouse surrounding them began to appear fuzzy on the edges, then blur, and then there was nothing but darkness.

((There might be a sequel in another prompt. Not sure yet.))

[thelioncourts]

title: ask to be unbroken author: marrieddorks fandom: captive prince pairing: damen/laurent word count: 6577

Damen knew he was driving too fast. The weight of his foot on the gas pedal told him that. The way Nik’s knuckles were white on the passenger side door handle told him that. The number on the speedometer told him that.

Damen knew he was driving too fast and he didn’t care. The voicemail he had received not even half an hour ago kept playing over in his head.

“Hi, this is Thea Kashel, a nurse at Arles’ university hospital. We have a Mr. Laurent DeVere here and you’re listed as his emergency cont —”

He had been at the gym when the call first came. He had been on one of the rowing machines, finishing up a 1,000 metre row, the fifth of his circuit, when his music cut off and his screen darkened with an unrecognizable local number. It had been easy to ignore at first, his mind in that glazed-over focus it obtained when he was completely into his workout. There had been no lull in his pace, no hesitancy in his pulls, and, as though it never happened, his phone quickly returned to normal, the screen white-bright and blaring a too-loud fast-tempoed song full of forgetful lyrics.

It was about a minute later that his phone screen changed again, this time indicating a voicemail. Nik must’ve seen him huff and eventually stand to wipe at his face with the bottom of his sweat-drenched shirt and move to the back of the gym. It was Nik who managed to get the key in the ignition of the car not even five minutes later, Damen’s hands suddenly uncoordinated.

Damen knew he was driving too fast and he didn’t care. He had to get to Laurent.

It was only when the hospital came into view that Nik’s voice — hesitant, exasperated, and worried all at once — managed to filter passed the cacophony of sound in Damen’s mind.

“Damen...Damen, you need to get your head on straight before going in there. There’s a good chance other people may have already arrived, people like Jord or Nicaise or even his uncle. And,” Nik paused, his air momentarily taken away as Damen turned the steering wheel sharply. “And there’s also a good chance he might not want you there.”

Damen said nothing for a moment. He swung the car into an open parking space at the back of the lot. When the engine cut off, the silence made Damen’s adrenaline-speeding heartbeat too loud for his liking. “He might not want me there, Nik, but he needs me. Even if he’s fine, he,” Damen swallowed, “he needs me.”

[Continue on AO3]

The entirety of the walk up to the front doors, to the front desk, the elevator, and eventually the third floor’s nurses’ station was a blur. It was only when the nurse whose brown eyes reminded Damen of his mother’s asked him if he himself needed a doctor that he snapped out of his haze.

“No, I’m fine. Thank you. I’m actually here for Laurent. Laurent DeVere. I got a phone call and I got here as soon as I could.”

“You must be Damen,” she said with a smile. “No need to look so pale. Mr. DeVere is off getting x-rays, but he should be back in a few minutes. You could wait in his room if you’d like. The doctor should be with him when he gets there and he’ll go over everything with you all.”

She pointed them down the hallway to room 343. It smelled sterile and it felt cold. There were no machines beeping ominously, no IV bags dripping, no medical chart to read. The sheets of the hospital bed were still crisp and tucked neatly at the sides. There was no sign of Laurent anywhere in room 343 except for the plastic bag sitting on the cheap bedside table, letters written messily in black marker spelling out Laurent’s full name on its side.

“His stuff is all here it seems,” Nik pointed out as though Damen’s full attention wasn’t honed in on the bag with blood smeared on the inside. “The nurse didn’t seem worried, Damen,” Nik spoke again. Damen could feel Nik’s eyes burning a stare at his profile.

“They see this kind of stuff everyday. To them, he’s just a patient, Nik. They don’t know him.”

There was no response. Instead the silence took over, deafening in its strength. Nik sat down eventually on the plasticy couch by the window. Damen paced. He paced door to window and bed to wall. It was Nik who, once again, spoke first, voice casual.

“I haven’t seen Jord or Lazar. Or that tiny devil Nicaise. Or Laurent’s uncle.”

A new emotion flared in Damen’s vision at the mention, blurring, however briefly, his worry. “That bastard better not show his face here. Not today. I’m not in the mood for his word-games.”

“You’ve never told me what that man did to make Laurent, and you, hate him so much.”

“I don’t know what he’s done, really,” Damen admitted. “But Laurent can’t stomach the sight of him. And between that and the way his uncle always has the same look about him...has the same specific look in his eyes...I don’t know. I often fantasize about what it’d be like to hit him for what all he’s ever done.”

Nik’s eyebrows were furrowed, his frown deep, but whatever he was going to say was lost in the sound of voices entering the room.

There was a whole speech that had been halfway planned in Damen’s head since arriving at the hospital. He was fully aware there was some rambling, some grasping for understanding, some fretting over Laurent’s well-being, and anger all in it. But all those planned words, all the replaying of past conversations and that damned voicemail from the nurse, dissipated at the first sight of Laurent.

He looked so small. His frame was dwarfed by the wheelchair and the doctor, an already tall figure, standing at full height by his side. The hospital gown was white and light, like his skin and his hair, and it washed him out. The fluorescent lighting humming above them didn’t help in the matter.

There was an unsure moment at first. Laurent and the doctor were so deep in quiet conversation that Damen and Nik’s presence went largely unnoticed for moment. Damen has paused awkwardly in his pacing and was seemingly glued to a spot right by the bed. Nik was truly the only one of the two of them within Laurent and the doctor’s vision where they were waiting in the doorway and it took the doctor asking Laurent a question to spark everything into motion.

At first, Laurent turned to look at the room, eyes scanning for what Damen assumed was the bag containing all of his possessions. He promptly stopped at the sight of Nik who was strangely hunched on the couch as though he couldn’t determine if he wanted to stand up or run away. Less than ten seconds passed by before Laurent’s eyes kept moving on a different kind of search and Damen stepped out of the blindspot between the door and bed to give a small wave.

An all-too-familiar blank look took over Laurent’s face, one Damen had hoped to never see directed toward him again, but there wasn’t time to dwell on that, not when Laurent was saying “Thank you, Dr. Paschal,” before standing out of the wheelchair, the dismissal of the doctor too evident.

Laurent took one step, then another, and another and the something that had put him here was obvious in the way he moved. Damen was helpless from stepping forward.

“Stay where you were,” came Laurent’s clipped reply to Damen’s unvoiced concern. Damen and Nik both watched as Laurent, gently, made his way to the stiff hospital bed and eased himself into sitting on it. “If you’re going to stand there, you could at least be useful and pass me my bag.”

As it often did in situations like this, Damen’s brain chose that opportune moment to remember. It remembered the last time he and Laurent had touched. That memory was a ghost gripping hard at the barrier of past and present as their hands brushed while Damen handed over the bag. If he focused hard enough he could still feel the gentle tips of Laurent’s fingers on his palm, the heavy weight of the keys that were dropped there to replace them.

Nik must have stood while Damen was overthinking because suddenly his hand was clapping Damen’s shoulder as he muttered, “I’m going to go wait outside. Text me.”

“You smell vile,” was how Laurent chose to fill the next bout of silence.

“I was at the gym when I got the call.” He hadn’t even thought to change, to shower. Hell, thinking about it now, he was almost completely certain he had abandoned his water bottle, his jacket, and maybe even his entire gym bag in the process of getting here.

“Yes, well,” Laurent started, back to Damen as he riffled through his belongings, “there’s no need for you to be here. I tried to tell them I hadn’t gotten around to changing any of my information yet, but they were too preoccupied.”

It was an even clearer dismissal than the doctor had received. It left Damen defenseless. Yet, despite the discordant tone of Laurent’s voice, Damen still knew him. Damen reminded himself that he knew Laurent better than anyone and that was, no doubt, the driving factor of Laurent not wanting him here. Or, at least, one of the driving factors. Laurent’s shoulders were in a perfectly straight line, willfully held that way to hide just how badly he wanted to lie down or hunch over. Even from where Laurent was sitting on the bed Damen could see the bandages running over his left shoulder.

“Did you lose your hearing in the last six months?” Laurent asked rhetorically.

“You must be joking,” Damen said. There was an edge to his voice now that it was suddenly found and it caused Laurent to turn and look at Damen over his shoulder. The way his hair moved only infuriated Damen more. “We dated for over a year, Laurent. An entire year. And it took six months just to get you to talk to me for more than five minutes, let alone go on a date with me. But then you did and it turned into the best year of my life. Of course, that was before you showed up at my apartment at one in the morning to tell me that this wasn’t working out before turning around and leaving me with no explanation to the apparent shift in your feelings.” Damen was moving around the bed, his shoes loud on the hospital linoleum, until he was standing right in front of Laurent. “Then I was left with a dozen unanswered phone calls to you. And then I quit calling because I know you and I was, and am, aware that if I make you resent me in any way, there would be no shot at you even giving me the time of day. You left me with no answers, no explanations, no understanding for over half a year, Laurent. So I won’t sit and apologize for being here, for, rightfully, panicking when I received a phone call telling me you were in the hospital. Because in that moment I forgot all the unanswered calls. All I could think about was getting to you and making sure you were okay.”

The sterile smell of the room, the unwavering coldness of its impersonalness, was replaced by a charged tension. It felt like the air during a thunderstorm just before lightning struck, anticipatory and breakable, and it was so strong that Damen felt like he couldn’t breathe. The surrealness of everything was finally starting to catch up with him after the whirlwind of the last hour. He was drained.

“But you’re clearly fine and I’m clearly not wanted so I’m going to find Nik and go home. I wish you all the best with your recovery from whatever the hell happened that put you here. And you might want to change your emergency contact information today because if I ever get a call again I will be here.”

Laurent had always said that Damen could wake the dead with how loudly he walked and it was clear in the continued way his footsteps seemed to echo on this flooring. He made it to the threshold, mind clearer and heart aching, when he heard his Laurent.

“Nicaise spooked Giselle.” Damen stopped, his hand resting on the door. “I was out checking her hooves. Her back right leg had seemed a tad lagging on our ride the day before. I wanted to make sure everything was alright before taking her out again. Nicaise came running up suddenly. She kicked.”

There was the sound of rustling fabric and Damen turned around. Laurent was pulling down the left side of his hospital gown, revealing the sharp jut of his collarbone, the fine curve of his neck into his shoulder, and, further down, a large piece of gauze and bandage, still leaking with blood.

“Dr. Paschal is looking over the x-rays to make certain the pain in my sternum is just bruising and not it being broken. Otherwise they think I’m relatively fine. I just have to stay off the horse for a while.”

Laurent started fixing up his gown, eyes downcast as he pulled it gently back over his shoulder. Damen was still in the doorway, eyes glued to the shadows of Laurent’s pale eyelashes. When Laurent finally looked up, his stare was no longer blank. Damen nodded.

“Is that why Nicaise isn’t here then?”

“Oh, I think he’s embarrassed. He screamed when I went down and you know he’s going to now try to cover up the fact that he cares about me. I’m sure I won’t see or hear from him for a few days,” Laurent said, smile small and wry.

Damen’s own smile echoed as he said, “Yes, there’s something about the two of you. You don’t like people to know you care about them.”

“Excuse me,” Damen heard from behind and he turned to see the doctor back, a stack of papers in hand.

“Dr. Paschal,” Laurent said in greeting this time. The doctor made his way around Damen’s form before standing in front of Laurent in the same place Damen had just been several minutes earlier. Laurent wasn’t looking at Damen anymore.

“I’ve got your results back if —”

“He’s already aware of the situation, there’s no need for privacy,” Laurent answered the unasked question.

“Very well. In that case, you’ll be pleased to know that it is deep bruising causing most of your pain, nothing more. I’ve prescribed some pain medication to help alleviate the symptoms, but as it is a bone bruise it is going to take about two months to properly heal. Until then, I want you off of the horses for an entire month. You need to come see me at that time and from there I will determine if you’re ready to start easing your way back into the saddle.” There was a fight evident on Laurent’s face, but Dr. Paschal continued on. “You also need to take it extremely easy for some time. There is a definite need of you to have a driver for this first week of recovery. Even the weight and press of seatbelt is going to cause you discomfort.”

“Anything else?” Laurent asked drily.

“Not at the moment. I’ve already penciled in a check-up date for next month. Should there be any problems with the date or time, you can always call and reschedule.” Dr. Paschal sorted through some of the papers in hand, neatly ordering them before passing them along to Laurent. “Your prescription is just there underneath your discharge papers. I trust you have someone to drive you home tonight?”

“He does,” Damen answered, speaking for the first time since the doctor arrived. Both Dr. Paschal and Laurent turned to him.

“Excellent,” Dr. Paschal said. “Try to sleep well tonight, Mr. DeVere. Your prescription will be ready in the morning. What I gave you earlier should, at the very least, help you rest.” With that, he nodded at Damen as he left the room once again. Laurent stared after him.

“I can make other arrangements,” Laurent spoke in that same quiet voice as earlier. It was so reminiscent of Laurent at the beginning of their relationship, unsure about dating and protocol and unsure of himself for one of the first times in a long time, that Damen had to stop himself from doing something stupid.

“I’m already here.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“It is.” Laurent was staring again. “I’m going to go tell Nik. Try not to run away out the window or anything while I’m gone.”

“I don’t have a shirt without blood on it,” Laurent said quickly. Damen looked at him, watched as he clutched the plastic bag with all his belongings in it to his chest.

“I’ll go tell Nik and see if I have an extra shirt or something in my car.”

It was easy to find Nik. It was easy to find Nik, not necessarily because he was in an obvious place, the third floor waiting room, but because Damen could hear Lazar all the way back at the nurses’ station.

“Let me tell you, the clubs in Vask are incomparable to anything here. I consider myself a pretty versatile kind of guy, but I’ve never been so quick to want to get on my knees than with those do-as-I-say ladies around me.”

“Antagonizing the entire waiting room, Lazar?” Damen asked.

“Thank god,” Nik muttered, quickly standing.

“Look at you, you giant, glorious bastard,” Lazar said as hello, earning eyerolls from everyone, but the biggest one from Jord who must have had to tolerate Lazar for an entire car ride here as well. There were some quick hugs exchanged, some general life updates shared, before Damen explained that Laurent was fine and Nicaise merely had spooked his horse.

“Tiny devil,” Jord drolled.

“We ready then?” Nik’s arms were crossed, the car keys dangling from his right hand, and Damen felt himself rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Ah. No. Not really.”

“I thought I noticed a bounce to your step,” said Nik. “I trust his horse didn’t damage him in any dire way?”

“No, he should be okay. But he does need a ride home and I thought that since I’m already here…” Damen trailed off. It was easy to guess what Nik was going to say. Nik had always been Damen’s most straightforward friend, especially about relationships, and his opinion of Laurent had decreased considerably after Laurent ended things.

“I suppose there’s no arguing with you,” Nik started. “I’m tired and need a shower and you’re going to do whatever you want. And I know you want this. I suppose if it takes making Laurent physically incapable of escaping you for you to, at the very least, get some closure, then so be it.”

“You can grab a ride home with us,” Jord offered.

“Yeah, and we can pick up Pallas on the way,” Lazar said, eyebrows wagging. Nik sighed.

“I trust you won’t do anything too stupid?” he asked and with a toss the car keys were in Damen’s hands.

“Can’t guarantee that.”

“Figured as much.” Nik shrugged on his jacket. “Please don’t call me upset because Laurent continues to be a cast iron bitch until at least nine in the morning.”

“Thanks for your support!” Damen called after their retreating figures and Nik shot up his hand in a dismissive wave.

It took several minutes to get down to his car, tidy up his seats, and pull a clean, but wrinkled, t-shirt out of his bag. It was dark blue and worn-soft, the color just starting to fade. It would have to do.

The chill of the nighttime air was evident as Damen made his way back inside. His skin pimpled with gooseflesh while he stood in the elevator, absorbing the heat from the more tolerable inside temperature. Rubbing absently at his arms, Damen only realized he should have knocked a second too late. Laurent was standing there, unsteady, his riding pants pulled on again, but wearing nothing else. He looked at Damen.

“I believe my pain medication is starting to kick in.” There was no slur to his words as Laurent was more controlled than that, but the proof was there. Damen stepped forward and this time Laurent didn’t stop him.

“Let me help.”

The lightning was back. Laurent sat back down on the bed, stiff, but in the exact same place he had been when Damen left him, and he stuck out his right foot. Damen didn’t need any instruction. Silently he came over to the bed, picked up the first riding boot, and kneeled. Despite Laurent’s current state of tiredness, pain, and high levels of medication, his foot was elegantly pointed, allowing Damen to slip the boot into place quite quickly. Never one for simplicity, however, Laurent’s riding boots always had a series of laces at the front. While he pushed and pulled each one into place, Damen could feel Laurent’s stare, the manifestation of the feeling an embodiment of their proximity. He didn’t look up. A minute later he picked up the left boot and repeated the motions.

Tugging once on both sets of laces to make sure they were tied correctly, Damen finally stood, wiping his hands on the edge of his shorts.

“Here’s a shirt,” Damen said, passing over the shirt in a wad, before busying himself with the rest of Laurent’s belongings. All that had been brought with him was his wallet and phone. When Damen turned the phone over there was a list of text messages, all from Nicaise, and a single missed call, the number not given a name.

“Laurent, you —” Damen started, but his words caught in his throat. It was easy to miss the miles and miles of Laurent’s ivory skin, easy to miss its softness and touch. It had also been easy to ignore that when he had been more concerned of the bruising and blood on that exposed skin. What was impossible to ignore was the image Laurent suddenly made, swimming in Damen’s shirt.

Once again, Damen’s mind chose that opportune moment to remember and it could have been yesterday that Laurent had been bathed in morning sunlight, sweet and soft above Damen. Without even thinking too much Damen could recall the feel of Laurent’s hands, one on Damen’s shoulder and the other tangled in his hair. He could feel Laurent’s rabbit-fast pulse as he had pressed a kiss to inside of Laurent’s wrist where the skin was fine and thin.

“You’ve got that look on your face,” Laurent pointed out, palms flat on the bed. The bottom of the shirt rested on his thighs.

Damen cleared his throat. “What look?”

“The same look you had on our fourth date.” Laurent was moving as he spoke, legs wobbly as he tried to go to the wheelchair. Damen grabbed at it quickly, easing it over so Laurent could fall into it.

“Fourth date?”

“The date where I invited you inside afterward,” Laurent said. Damen paused, both hands on the handles of the wheelchair.

“Let’s get you home,” was what he decided to say and with that he was pushing the wheelchair into the hallway. He gave a quick wave to the nurse at the nurses’ station and, when in the main lobby, politely asked one of the nurses to keep an eye on Laurent while he went and got the car.

Getting into the car was a quiet affair. Laurent shoved at Damen’s hands as he tried to lift him into the passenger side seat, but they were quickly on the road, Damen turning left at the second stoplight instead of right. He tried not to think about how right it felt to be heading toward Laurent’s house.

“I see you’re still listening to garbage,” Laurent said with no heat. Damen looked over at him out of the corner of his eye. The street lights they were passing highlighted the aristocratic upturn of Laurent’s nose. Damen’s eyes then ventured to his center console where his phone had automatically connected to Bluetooth and was quietly playing the last song he had been listening to at the gym, some meaningless high-tempoed chart-topper.

“You know I can only listen to garbage when I’m at the gym,” Damen agreed. He went straight at the stoplight.

Laurent hummed. Whether it was a hum of acknowledgement or a hum of distaste, Damen wasn’t certain. He pressed the volume button, muting the sound altogether.

When they finally pulled up to Laurent’s house, Damen was hit with a wave of familiarity so strong that he pressed the brakes a tad too hard.

Laurent’s house, otherwise known as The Manor, was all that was left of the DeVere family. Well, the house and Laurent himself. The Manor was a larger-than-life gothic house, its exterior made of stone and pillars and pointed archways. Damen knew that if you stood underneath any of the arches you would see intricate carvings of people and places, carvings that paled in comparison to the flamboyant interior. When Laurent had first brought Damen here, he told him the nickname he had given this place was the Viper Pit.

It had always been assumed that Laurent would eventually leave The Manor. But Damen also knew that the large stables and riding area were too good to let go of. And Damen knew Laurent would never rid of his horses, especially Giselle.

“Wait here, I’m going to go open the door and get some lights on so it’s easier to get you inside,” Damen said, turning off the car. “No worries, I remember where your spare key is.”

The house was chilly inside and, after getting the entryway, hallway, kitchen, and Laurent’s bedroom lights on, Damen went over to the thermostat and cranked it up a good two degrees.

“It’s slightly worrisome how well you remember my home,” Laurent said to him as he walked back to the car.

“And why is that?”

“You’ve seen the news headlines. ‘Crazy man breaks into his ex’s house.’” Laurent was trying to stand. “You seem to know my house better than even I do.”

“Do you really think I would ever do such a thing?” Damen asked incredulously, starting to reach for Laurent who was now too aware of his difficulties of motor function.

“No, my honorable barbarian, I don’t think you would. If you weren’t such a good man, it would be terrifyingly worrisome, however.”

“Here, let me,” Damen started, hand sliding underneath Laurent’s right knee.

“Don’t make me regret what I just said,” Laurent said with a hint of ice, but his hand was steady on Damen’s shoulder, allowing him to pull him out of the car while safely ducking his head from hitting the car at all.

“It worries me how worried you seem to be about me taking advantage of you.”

“Well, do forgive me. It’s not you as much as it’s the rest of the men around me.”

Damen was baring all Laurent’s weight, being as gentle as he could with Laurent’s left side. It took them several minutes to make it inside the front door at that pace, but Laurent only winced once in pain during it.

When the door was finally closed and locked, they began their large trek, this time down the exceedingly long hallway to the last room on the right. Damen guided Laurent over to the desk chair as it was closest to the closet and dresser drawers.

“Let’s get you into some comfortable clothes for sleeping,” Damen said, already moving to the second drawer where he knew Laurent’s sleep shirts were located.

“I’d like to stay in this shirt, if that’s alright,” Laurent said to him, fingers tangled at the hem of the blue material.

“Does your shoulder hurt too much to change?” Damen asked, worried that the pain medication wasn’t doing its job.

“No, but this smells like you. I’d like to keep it on.”

Damen swallowed and turned back to the drawers, pushing the second one back in and pulling at the third one instead, shuffling around for a pair of basic sweatpants.

“I think you’ve forgotten,” Damen mumbled as he pulled out the first pair of soft black material he found.

“Forgotten what?” Laurent asked. Damen silently damned Laurent’s keen mind for paying attention in this state.

“We’re broken up, Laurent,” Damen told him slowly, eyebrows a little furrowed in his uncertainty. He felt like he was treading dangerous waters and soon he would be drowning if he didn’t keep his head up.

“I haven’t forgotten that,” Laurent said. His voice was quiet.

Damen watched him for a moment, took in the shallow movements of his chest, took in the way his blue eyes had seemed to darken to match the shade of Damen’s shirt, took in the intensity of his stare. Like in the hospital room, Damen kneeled, this time to pull off the intricate laces. It was different now. Laurent’s bedroom was a familiar place, a place of intimacy. Laurent’s bedroom was their first time.

It was impossible not to think about it as he grasped Laurent’s right foot. Laurent had been right earlier, it was their fourth date that Laurent had invited Damen inside. Unlike some of Damen’s past dates, Laurent hadn’t even attempted to guise it as a nightcap or a cup of coffee to finish the night away with. Laurent had known what he had wanted and he made it very clear that what he wanted was Damen in his bedroom. It hadn’t been ten minutes later that Damen had ended up in a position not all that different to the one he was in now, only his mouth was preoccupied and Laurent’s mind-drunk state was caused by pleasure as opposed to medication.

When the boots were off, it was easy to pull Laurent’s riding pants off of his legs and pull on the cotton sweats. Laurent was a different figure when he wasn’t dressed so austerely. The illusion hadn’t been there at any point of the night, not with the hospital gown and Damen’s own oversized shirt, but even Laurent out of his boots and his riding pants was a figure unguarded. Standing tall, Damen looked down to ask Laurent if anything else was needed first when Laurent gazed up at him and said, so earnestly, “I miss you. I miss our conversations.”

It was too much for Damen. The entire night had too much for Damen, but this moment was heady in how it preyed on Damen’s emotions.

“You’re not yourself,” Damen said quickly. “I need to take you to bed.”

“Then, take me.”

“You’re going to hate us both in the morning,” Damen told Laurent, more for his own sake than anything. “Especially because I’m staying here. God help us.”

He half-dropped, half-poured Laurent onto the bed and tried not to look at Laurent’s hooded eyes as he pulled the blankets up around his neck.

“Try to get some rest,” Damen said after switching off the light.

Even though there was a good half-a-dozen guest bedrooms within The Manor, Damen wasn’t comfortable in any of them. With a sigh, he grabbed a blanket out of the hallway closet, trying not to think about the time a storm had knocked the power out and he and Laurent had felt their way along the walls, giggling like idiots until they found the same closet for blankets to keep warm. The couch would do for the night.

When he awoke a few short hours later, the sun was high up in the sky and Laurent was still in bed. As quietly as he could, Damen folded up the blanket he had used, meandered his way to the kitchen, started up the coffee maker with a few minutes of preparation, and filled up a glass of water to pair with the bottle of ibuprofen. Damen had left Laurent’s door open through the night so he could better listen for any extreme movements on Laurent’s part. Having heard nothing, Damen walked in expecting to see Laurent in his favorite sleeping position, on his side, right leg slightly bent, and the pillow hugged longwise against his body. Damen nearly jumped when, instead, he walked in to Laurent wide-eyed and watching the door.

“I was wondering when you would make your way in here,” Laurent said, voice low with unuse.

“I didn’t expect you to be awake.”

“I haven’t been very long.”

Damen walked the water and bottle of ibuprofen over to Laurent. “This should tide you over until you can get your pain medication today.”

He watched silently as Laurent popped off the top of the medicine bottle and dumped three pills into his palm. With one, two swallows, he had them and two gulps of water down.

“I apologize,” Laurent said suddenly. It startled Damen and he almost dropped the still-open ibuprofen bottle on the floor. Laurent’s cheeks were pink with the barest hint of color, hands tangled in the dark blue sheet at his waist.

“For what?”

Laurent huffed with a bit of amusement. “For not changing my emergency contact information, for being the way I was to you when you first got to the hospital, for getting over-medicated and unable to control my mouth. I could go on, but I’m sure you get the idea.”

“Don’t worry about it. Any of it.”

“I meant what I said last night, or what I implied. You are a good man, Damen. Any other would not have shown up and definitely would not have stayed.”

As last night had proven, Laurent got talkative when he was uncomfortable and even moreso when he was uncomfortable and intoxicated in someway. But Damen knew himself and he got talkative when he was overwhelmed with emotion. He begged his mind to think before his mouth spoke.

“Why did you end things then?” Damen damned himself. “If your opinion of me is still what you said, if your ramblings last night were any indication of your unfiltered thoughts then why? And why —”

“Damen, there are no complete answers to any questions that you have,” Laurent sighed.

“You have answers and motives to everything you say and do. Don’t sit there and lie to me again. You can’t say the things you say without consequences, Laurent!” Damen could feel himself losing control and he didn’t care. “I can’t get over you. You’re in my thoughts every single day. I’ve been worried sick about you, wondering if you’re alright, if I should have fought harder to get back to you. I’ve contemplated everything that I left unsure about, like the walls you put up around yourself and the bizarre relationship you have with your uncle. I’ve got burned into memory the way you open your eyes in the morning and the feel of your hair and the fact that you can come from my lips on your neck and nothing more. And I can’t get closure from any of it because it ended with you at my front door at an ungodly hour with that horrible blank look on your face and no reason as to why you handed back the spare keys to my apartment like we weren’t getting ready to move in together.”

“Look around you, Damen.” There was ice back in Laurent’s voice and his eyes matched. “I’m in an empty mansion of a house. The only other souls on this god forsaken lot of land are my horses and, occasionally, Nicaise. That is, when he manages to get out of my uncle’s sight for a moment. There is no future here. Not now and maybe not ever. And you,” Laurent laughed, the sound cruel, “you don’t want this. You can try and convince yourself that you do, but you don’t. I only pushed the fast-forward button on what was already going to happen. You can thank me when you’ve got your wife and your two and a half kids in a few years.”

It was Damen’s turn to laugh and he himself could hear the hysterical edge to it. It must have went well with how comically wide his eyes were. “So there wasn’t any actual reason? You ended things because you made an assumption of my wants and needs and decided that was that? You’re selfish.”

“Oh, yes, heaven forbid I think about your happiness,” Laurent rolled his eyes.

“You are my happiness!” Damen was moving, his knees hitting the hard and cold floor right at the edge of the bed, making him eye-level with Laurent’s frozen expression. “I had never experienced love until you came into my life. Everyday, even the bad days, were so good because you were by my side. And I wanted to spend all of my days with you. I was ready to spend all of my days with you.”

“Then you’re a fool.” Damen could hear the tremor there, Laurent’s own carefully calculated control disappearing into being himself.

“Maybe so.” His hand, on its own volition, tucked a strand of blond hair behind Laurent’s ear. They both shuddered. “Nik always says so.”

“Nik’s never liked me.”

“Yeah, that’s why he thinks I’m a fool.”

“My life is about to get incredibly messy.” Laurent’s voice had a different kind of edge to it. “I don’t say that in any kind of hyperbolic way. I mean it literally. Anyone who is part of my life is going to get dragged into it, innocent or not.”

“I don’t care,” Damen said, moving to sit on the edge of the bed instead of on the floor.

“But anyone who —”

“I just told you,” Damen cut him off, “I want to spend all of my days with you, even the bad ones.”

“You’re a fool.”

“Kiss me.”

Laurent didn’t protest, Damen was riding the highest wave of an emotional tsunami, and Laurent’s lips were as soft as Damen remembered. There was a hesitancy at first, Laurent’s head pillowed by the headboard, his hands firmly planted on the mattress, but then he yielded to the kiss, sank into it like he was touch-starved. Damen’s hand, the same one that had tucked a stray strand of hair, brushed over Laurent’s jaw, over the apple of his cheek, softly.

“My chest,” Laurent muttered breathlessly against Damen’s lips when they parted.

“What? Oh!” Damen exclaimed suddenly, pulling back too fast, hands soothing over Laurent’s left shoulder. “We should probably change the bandage?”

“Probably.”

“I think the doctor gave you some in a mix of all the paperwork, I’ll go —”

“Damen?”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me.” Laurent was pink again with the demand. Damen thought his heart might beat out of his chest.

Practically bouncing his way to the kitchen — which now smelled of freshly brewed coffee — a few minutes later, Damen made certain to check the time on the clock before pulling out the fresh bandages.

Nik had said not until nine and it was now half past that. Damen would give him a call soon.

[rumowrites]

Talents Chapter 7

It took some time but here is the next part of Talents! It’s also up on AO3 under Rumo(Triteia). 

Also Warnings: Mention of Death, Torture and major injuries

Tinker awoke to darkness. Everything around him was dulled and strangely slow. His eyes fluttered open to an unfamiliar room where he was covered in pristine white sheets. He tried to lift his head to look around but a bright pain in his shoulder kept him glued to the soft mattress. Immediately, someone grabbed his hand and ran soothing circles over his palm. Tink opened his mouth to say something though he was shushed by a familiar voice almost momentarily. “It’s okay, we are back home. You are with the healers, but they say it will get better soon.”

A concerned looking face framed with long white hair appeared in his view. The teal eyes seemed to assess him thoroughly before Runaan faintly nodded to himself. “Naan…” the smith started but was instantly interrupted again. “Do you remember what happened?”

The question sent him drowning in a flood of memories that suddenly appeared in his consciousness, dragging him down with them and back into the human dungeons and their horrible methods. With a sharp gasp, Tinker shot up into a sitting position only to curl in on himself straight away. He couldn’t suppress the hiss that escaped his lips at the throbbing ache which bloomed in the general area of his ribs. The Assassin gently, if firmly, pushed him back down and fixed the blankets in place. “So, I take it you do. I need you to tell me everything you know about the human stronghold and it’s defences.”

“Why?” Tinker hated how gravelly his voice sounded but was glad all the same that it didn’t fail him at all. “Your rescue was, let’s say, a difficult situation. I could convince the council to launch a rescue mission but only if there was a real chance to bring you back. Otherwise I was to leave you there.” He noticed how Runaan’s voice changed from concerned to somewhat pained. The little creases he’d come to know as worry lines appeared on the other’s forehead, disturbing the stern features.

“I take it the chances weren’t good then?” In truth he didn’t need to ask the look on the Assassin’s face already told him enough. “I did get you out, didn’t I?” a slight smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth but quickly vanished as Runaan straightened in his seat. Just now, Tink realized he wore the ceremonial armour that classified him as second in command of the Assassin’s squadron. An uncommon choice for a hospital visit. His musings were interrupted as the tall elf spoke once again, voice now matter-of-factly. “You could say the casualties were high enough that the council decided my rescue attempt wasn’t as safe a bet as I tried to make them believe. They want to debrief thoroughly today to determine whether I went against their orders. It would help me to build a case should you remember anything specific that could aid us in coming missions besides the obvious holes in defence I used to get in.”

“Did you get injured?” the thought suddenly crossed his mind as he continued to take in the other’s appearance. Tinker could see him moving a little stiffer than usual and several bandages peaked out under the layered cloth and armour. “Don’t lie to me.” He added before the Assassin could answer him. What followed was a long but very detailed list of injuries, sorted from worst to most shallow that he rattled down like a grocery list. The smith felt a sensation between worry and amusement at the unconcerned display. At his request the other even opened his tunic and showed him the neatly wrapped injuries on his upper body. Seemingly satisfied, Tink sank back into his pillow and thought about the question he’d asked. “I couldn’t really get a glimpse of the defence mechanisms, but I am sure I could draw you an accurate map of the parts of the castle they took me to. They dragged me around a lot because their lieutenant wanted to talk to me a few times.”

The statement got him a wide-eyed look from his counterpart. “How long would that take you? Approximately?”

He shrugged, abandoning the motion halfway through. “Maybe ten, twenty minutes? Depending on ho detailed you need it.” In a flurry of dark blue cloth and white hair, Runaan rushed to the door. “Let me just get parchment. Think about anything else you can remember while I’m gone.”

The Assassin returned shortly after with charcoals and s couple of large paper sheets. “I have an hour before I need to make my appearance at the council. Please try to remember as much as you can.”

Tink started to sketch out the lower level of the castle right away, working his way to the top and the towers sheet per sheet. The humans had brought him to almost every part of the stronghold since he was questioned by different people and they moved him around a lot presumably to make it harder for him to escape. At the same time, they had given him access to the majority of chambers and hallways. He was careful to only draw the parts he was sure that were there and added the things he assumed to be bordering the areas he’s been in with thinner doted lines. “How can you remember the layout so well?” Runaan had been quiet for the most part of the last twenty minutes, simply watching him with increasing interest. “I walked some of the way…” he then pointed at the hallways they used to get out. “…but I couldn’t for the life of me draw a whole layout of the place. Sure, I could find the way we went but the map you drew is just huge.”

Finishing off the last hallways, the smith returned the charcoals and pushed his hair back with his uninjured arm. The chuckle of his boyfriend told him he’d probably been leaving coal streaks on his face in the process. “I don’t know. I just need to see things once to remember them good enough to sketch them afterwards. Varou says it’s called an eidetic memory.”

“Well, it’s an exceptional skill and will probably safe my Job.” With that, the long-haired elf stood up from his seat on the edge of the cot and began to collect the various parchments strewn around them. Some of them also showed mechanical sketches of the human’s catapults and other weaponry where they had been stationed inside the fortress.

Just as he’d gathered everything, Tink could see Varou stepping through the door. The old elf looked exhausted but all the while happy to see him. “I will be back as soon as I can.” Runaan stated and exchanged a few whispered words with his mentor before walking out the door with long, purposeful strides.

“How are you feeling?” Varou took a seat where the Assassin had sat just moments ago and mustered him with the same assessing glance the other had used before. “I’m okay, I guess. The shoulder and my ribs hurt but Runaan said it will probably heal completely.”

“You know, that was not what I meant. Are you okay? Your boyfriend didn’t really talk about much. The nurse had to practically drag him from your bedside and pin him down afterwards to stitch him up. Otherwise I’m sure I could have scraped him from the floor due to the blood loss a couple hours later. Stubborn bastard you got there.” Somehow the statement sounded almost endearing. Tink was sure he liked Runaan even though the smith like to play protective of him.

“I’m not fine but I will get there in time. Sadly, my memory is excellent. How badly was he hurt? When I asked before I just got a list of injuries but that doesn’t really tell me anything besides the fact that half of his skin must have been peeled off by blades.”Varou chuckled a little, glad that his apprentice apparently managed to keep his humour despite the near-death experience.

“This may sound harsh but compared to him you looked peachy and you were the unconscious one. Though I must say the poker face he’s got going on is impressive. Half of the people probably didn’t realise he had more than a few scratches. Given the state of both your clothes it was really hard to tell whose blood it was though. I his case I would guess most of it was human. The dual swords were practically re-coloured. Can you tell me how that happened?” Tink had to shake his head. He’d only been present for a small part of the fighting. “Not really, no. He told me to climb down the castle wall so I didn’t really see anything. I used the time he needed to catch up to heal a few of my wounds.”

“That probably saved your life. The healers said you wouldn’t have made it far with the scars they found. Good thing your magic is that efficient.” He added some stories from the shop after that and Tink could feel him trying to change the subject. Glad of the diversion, he listened to the gossip and occasionally asked for more information.

After a while, their conversation came to halt once Varou finished his report of the new things he’d made in his absence. “I’m glad you made it back.” He took Tinkers hand in his calloused ones and looked him in the eye before continuing. “Both of you.”  

His throat tightened at that and he felt tears welling up in his eyes, blurring his vision. “So am I.”

“Do you think he will be okay?” Varou had to think of the devastated figure he’d witnessed in his workshop before Runaan ran off on this suicide mission and the change he went through while stepping through the door of his shop on the way out. From panicked, emotional wreck to composed general, although he did see the mask cracking ever so slightly as they bid their goodbyes. Then, when the Assassin returned with his apprentice that the old elf loved like a son, he’d looked like the raging fury still lurked beneath his skin and just waited to break through. His tone had been sharper, more commandeering than usual as Runaan had called for a healer, a hint of panic carrying in his voice. The main reason he had helped to clear path wasn’t his concern for their speedy arrival, the long-haired elf had been almost running, but the safety of his fellow elves shouldn’t they manage to free the way fast enough.

The Adrenaline down once they’d carried Tinker to the healers was concerning to say the least. He had to refrain himself from jumping up and out of his seat every time the other stumbled because he was afraid to startle Runaan, who then looked like a cornered animal.

“I’m not sure.”  

I hope you enjoyed it! More will come soon:) 

I’m very ecxited for Season 2 and hope that we finally learn Tinkers name so I can replace it in all my stories -_-

[paperficwriter]

Your Smile

When I saw this picture of Bakugou, I was hit with such feels and I was like, “There is no way Kirishima doesn’t have a copy of it.” And that’s how this fic came to be.

Cut is for length, not for content.

“Give me my wallet back!”

Kaminari dodged as Kirishima came leaping in, trying to get at the leather bifold in his one hand while Kaminari’s other was digging into his pocket. “Hang on, let me take just one picture...”

“No!” Kirishima’s teeth ground together so tight that he could feel his quirk activating along his jawline. “I swear, Kaminari, if you text that to anyone--”

All Kaminari wanted to do was borrow a dollar, and now Kirishima wished he had told him to starve. Not that he ever would have; Kirishima was notorious for helping his classmates out when they were short on lunch money. And instead of taking the money out and handing it to him, he let Kaminari rifle through it himself, and...well, here they were now.

Then, a tiny detail sparked in Kirishima’s memory. “Don’t send it to the group chat, Kaminari!”

“What? Why?” He paused to reply, his eyes a little wider, and Kirishima snatched the phone and wallet out of his hands. Of course the chat window was open on the screen. And in it, the slightly-blurred but still very distinguishable photograph of the contents of Kirishima’s wallet.

Kirishima’s wallet, which contained his UA identification card, hero license, one emergency credit card, his bank account card, a few dollars of cash, a trading card of Crimson Riot from when he was a kid, and, finally: one picture cut out of a local hero magazine from several years ago, with a crease along the top and a bit of white scuffing around the edge.

It was a photo of Bakugou. Bakugou, smiling in the most dazzling way that didn’t specifically look like he was about to kill someone, dressed in his school uniform (without the tie, of course, although a few more buttons open than Kirishima had thought would or should be allowed), and one hand raised to push back the hair at the side of his head. It looked like he had been glaring before some amazing genius had said something to make him laugh and had caught the moment before Bakugou could raise his defenses again.

Nobody typed anything.

Until:

“WTF??”

Kirishima sighed and handed his phone back to Kaminari. “Because Mina added Bakugou to the chat the day before yesterday.”

“How did she manage that?”

“I have no idea. Do you think maybe he won’t realize it’s mine?”

“Not a chance, dude. You can see the top of the Crimson Riot card on the other side. Who else would carry something like that?”

“Dang...can’t you delete it?”

“What difference would that make now?”

“Maybe he’ll forget!”

Kaminari stared at him, then deadpanned, “Bakugou Katsuki, who can remember one piece of information from our first day of classes three years ago --”

“Okay, shut up.”

“--along with every other class between then and now--”

“I said I got it!”

“--is going to forget that his best friend who has a not-even-subtle crush on him is carrying a picture of him in his wallet.”

Kirishima groaned as he pressed the small square into his forehead. “I want to die.”

---

Some part of Kirishima had hoped that turning off his phone, locking the door to his room and turning off the light for the evening would be enough to avoid Bakugou. However, he had not made any plans for sustenance and since he skipped lunch after being too mortified and worried he would run into Bakugou, so now the rest of his mind was just going ‘food, food, food, food.’

Maybe he could order something and get it delivered to his room...yeah! Turn his phone on for a second, get a pizza, pay for it online and then he’d only have to open his door for a second to grab it. Genius.

A great plan, had he remembered the loud, obnoxious notes of music that accompanied his cell’s startup. And the fact that Bakugou’s bed was right next to the wall. And he wouldn’t forget for a long time after because Bakugou immediately set off an explosion against the wall and startled him so badly that he rolled onto the floor.

“I knew you were in there, Shitty Hair!” he roared through the thin material separating them.

“I was asleep!”

“No you weren’t, you fucking liar! You snore like a goddamned drowning elephant!”

Kirishima wondered if he could blush so brightly that it would light up his dark room. It definitely felt like it.

“Why is your phone off? You never turn your phone off.” Bakugou’s voice was quieter, and for a second, Kirishima wondered if he wasn’t as explosively angry as he thought and maybe more...upset? “Are you avoiding me?”

“What? No! I mean, I...” Squeezing his blankets, he let his body fall to its side, dropping his forehead against the wall with a soft, dull thud. “I was embarrassed.”

“You should have been. That picture sucks.”

“No, it doesn’t! It doesn’t suck at all!”

“I look like some fucking dickhead.” His voice goes muffled like he’s put his pillow over his face but Kirishima thinks he hears him say, “No wonder you had it in your wallet.”

What?! “Bakugou, I had it in my wallet because I like it!”

“Yeah, you like to show it to fucking Pikashit so he can ride my ass about it.”

Something dense and cold started growing in the middle of Kirishima’s chest. Did Bakugou really think over this all day? Even if this story he had made up in his head wasn’t true even a little bit, Kirishima couldn’t help feeling guilty. If he had just talked to him, he wouldn’t have been thinking this. “I’m coming over.”

“The fuck you are!” Bakugou snarled as he scrambled from his bed, and Kirishima listened to his feet pounding the floor as he met him just as he was trying to shoulder his way in. “Get lost!”

“My head makes a great battering ram when I’ve got my quirk going, Bakugou, so you better just let it happen!” Kirishima really, really, really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. He imagined replacing the door would be expensive and probably involve a very awkward call home.

“No! I swear to god, I’ll blow you to pieces!” He got about half an inch before Bakugou slammed it closed.

“Fine! I’ll stand out here and yell about why I love that picture!” He took a deep breath. This could be worse, but he didn’t care. “I like it because of how soft your eyes get when you’re not glaring, and how you have this grin that’s so big and bright that -- mmph!”

As quickly as Kirishima had been standing in the hallway, he was inside Bakugou’s room, his back pushed against the wall. One warm palm was pressed over his mouth and a thumb curled under his chin, and Bakugou’s pink cheeks were only inches from his. “Shut up!”

Kirishima shook his head and yanked down at Bakugou’s elbow to free himself enough to talk. “Not until you believe me! I didn’t have that picture in my wallet because I thought you looked funny or something, dude! I had it in there because I can look at it whenever I want to! I don’t have to wait for this rare instance where there’s a double rainbow and an eclipse and whatever else it takes for you just to smile!”

Bakugou stopped moving, even though they were both still entangled, the hand that had been on his face balled in his shirt while Kirishima was still gripping the angle of his arm. Bakugou was burning up. Maybe Kirishima was too.

“I’m sorry that Kaminari took that picture. He stole my wallet and...and I should have just talked to you about it, but like I said, I was embarrassed. Because I thought you’d be weirded out that I was carrying around a picture of you.”

“It is weird,” Bakugou mumbled, and Kirishima was going to say something to that but then Bakugou just put his head down on his shoulder, a solid weight that got heavier as his whole body seemed to sag against Kirishima. “There are a hell of a lot better heroes you could have in your pocket. A lot better guys too.”

Hoping with every ounce of optimism in his body, Kirishima reached around Bakugou’s side with his free hand, took a breath and pressed it at the point right at the edge of his ribs. If his fingers were shaking, he couldn’t tell, because Bakugou tightened, as though he were going to pull away. And yet he didn’t.

“No way. It could only be you, Bakugou. Nobody else. Ever.”

Bakugou glanced up, and it wasn’t the vibrant white smile from the picture, but there was a gentle one on his lips. He let go of Kirishima and stepped away, but he only went as far as his desk. Opening up one of the drawers, he reached inside and took out an envelope. “My mom made this huge fucking deal when those pictures came out because she said it was the only one she’d ever seen of me smiling since I was in preschool. Which is bullshit but whatever. So she called the magazine and ordered a thousand of them and she sent me all these ones and screamed at me to give them to my friends so.” He huffed once the tirade was through and shoved two toward Kirishima. “Here. Don’t tell anyone. They’ll hold up better than that scrap you have now.”

Kirishima took the photographs - two! He had given him two! Where was he going to put the other one? Next to his bed? In a frame? - and grinned. “Thank you! Oh gosh, Katsuki, thank you! Sorry, I didn’t mean to get all familiar, I’m just so excited! I--”

Every word evaporated on his tongue when Bakugou leaned in to kiss his cheek softly, his lips warm even though the breath from his nose was cool. A brief contact. Just once, not lingering, silent and without a word.

When he pulled away, Kirishima melted. “That was the manliest kiss!” he wheezed.

“Oh my god, shut up. Can we go get dinner now? Are you done being a fucking hermit?”

“Yes but seriously, that was...so classy!”

“Ugh, you are way too easy to please.”

Bakugou may have shoved him on his way out the door, but when Kirishima reached out to hook his hand in his, he didn’t push him away again.