#Of course he loves Raven too much to hurt her

[ghurab-alzilal]

The Limit of Love

Raven: Would you help me if I was hurt?

Damian: Definitely.

Raven: Would you help me if I was dying?

Damian: I'd give up all of me for you.

Raven: Would you avenge me if you couldn't save me?

Damian: In a flicker.

Raven: So...

Raven: Can I borrow your Redbird for a while?

Damian, roundly : Never.

[toournextadventure]

when you love it

Summary: When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it - Caitlyn Siehl

Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: swearing, injury mention, suggestive themes, blood mention, hurt no comfort (hopeful ending), extreme guilt Pairing: Wenclair x Vampire!Reader (part 2)

“We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty on the charge of murder in the first degree.”

Your fangs caught on your lip as you did your best not to smile. With the slightest turn of your body, you patted your client on the shoulder and congratulated him for getting off on murder. He was guilty as sin. You could practically smell the tainted blood coursing through his veins. It was abysmal; he was a horror to work with. Doubtless he would be murdered before he even left the courthouse.

His money was still just as good as anyone else’s.

The judge continued his usual spiel, the one you personally had heard many times over. Something about understanding the severity of the charges, how one must persevere to become more, to prevent such a situation from occurring again. She was getting much more emotional about the speech, putting more of a motherly spin on it. It was a lovely touch.

It wouldn’t work. But it was lovely.

“Don’t get yourself in too much trouble,” you said once the judge was finished and you could shake your client’s hand.

His smile was sinister. “I’ll be calling on you again.”

You made sure to show your fangs in your own smile. “I’ll be expecting it.”

The man gave you the creeps, more so than most of the clients you represented. Which was precisely why you allowed your shadow to escort him out of the courthouse to the freedom he had unjustly earned. You watched as he left with a smile that betrayed your actual thoughts.

If he called again, your rates would double.

“You did your job masterfully.”

You turned around, watching people continue to mill out of the courtroom. No one was facing you, not even the usual suspects. Even your best friend Detective Faus had already left. There was no one left to talk or discuss the events of the case. A pity.

Maybe it had been another hallucination; they were more frequent this time of year. Sounds of blood spilling, pouring down your throat like the first drink at the bar. The door opening, muffled words, wood splintering. The sounds made themselves known in your mind, drowning out everything else around you.

“Looking for someone in particular?”

No. No, that was no hallucination. You looked down to see a young man no older than 20 - though his spectacular mustache looked a bit old for him - standing beside you. It was no wonder you hadn’t noticed him, he was rather short. With a stunning crop of slicked back raven black hair, he reminded you of someone. Someone you did your best to forget.

“Thank you, mister…,” your voice trailed off.

“Pubert Addams,” he said with a charming smile as he held out his hand toward you. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.”

A wet gasp-

-a snarl-

-relief-

-pain-

“-A pleasure, Mr. Addams,” you said, grasping his hand as gently as you possibly could. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long while.”

“I believe you knew my sister and her wife in college, did you not?” He asked as he let go of your hand.

A breathy moan-

-airy laughter-

-a warm sigh-

“-Quite a long time ago,” you said, “but yes.”

“Yes, I knew it was you,” he said with a smile that was far too familiar. Eerily so. “Are you free for a short while?” He asked. “I have a proposition for you.”

You sighed and shifted the weight to your good leg. It left an ache that rarely eased, though certainly not for lack of trying. Thanks to the glasses, you were confident your distrust was hidden. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the young Addams boy; he seemed decent enough. You had worked with enough sleazy people to know who to trust and who to be wary of.

There was just the little problem of not wanting anything to do with an Addams.

Though, you supposed you could give the boy the benefit of the doubt. After all, what would it hurt? If he was anything like Wednesday - and it was beyond clear he was - he would love the danger. The thrill of propositioning you would far outweigh the danger of having you near. A brave boy.

Just like his older sister.

“I suppose I have time,” you finally said with a toothy grin. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” he said quickly as he fell into step beside you. Exactly like his sister.

“A coffee then,” you amended.

He had no objections.

His hands were shoved into his pockets as he walked out of the courtroom with you. The stench of rancid blood filled your senses before you saw the commotion outside. Your client’s body lay sprawled along the steps, his blood flowing from the tips of his fingers; no one dared try to stop the bleeding. At the bottom, the police were shoving the victim’s brother into their cruiser.

“An eye for an eye turns the whole world blind,” Mr. Addams said with a shake of his head.

You didn’t dare hide your smile. “A beautiful sentiment.” You continued to walk past the scene, not looking back to see if Mr. Addams was following.

His footsteps quickened their pace to match yours before he stood beside you once again. It was a short, silent walk to the little cafe you had started to call your own. The barista was a wonderful young girl; she had easily fallen victim to the vampire charm you did your best not to throw around. Though you were a little less careful nowadays, but that was your little secret.

“What can I get for you, sugar?” The young waitress asked once you sat down. She, too, had fallen victim to your supernatural charm.

“A quad?” You asked once Mr. Addams sat across from you at the little table in the corner.

“Heavens no,” he said with his own charming smile, “I’ll take a mocha, thank you.”

“An espresso, darling,” you said with a smile at the waitress.

Her cheeks flushed. “I’ll have it for you in a moment.”

You tried not to mention your surprise at the young Addams going against what his older sister had made seem like tradition. Or perhaps she had changed over the years; it was a possibility she had come to enjoy the sweeter things in life. After all, Enid certainly did, so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. She always had been a lovestruck fool for Enid.

So were you.

You promptly ignored the thought.

“What is your proposition, Mr. Addams?” You asked as you continued to wait for your drinks.

“Ah, of course,” he said. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “I would like to invite you to a soiree we happen to be hosting.”

“I’m nothing but a stranger to you,” you said simply. “What about me warrants an invitation?”

“My sister and her wife still talk of you,” he said. “Incessantly.” His smile was gentle; genuine. “I believe inviting you would make them happy.”

You didn’t grace that thought with a reply. If they still talked of you, that was their issue. Wednesday was certainly psychotic enough to desire your presence. Enid, also, could certainly be delusional enough. Seeing you again should bring them no sense of joy or peace; if anything, it should cause nightmares.

It didn’t matter that you often found yourself thinking of them in return. When you talked with clients who had a penchant for breaking the law, much like Wednesday. Committing their crimes guiltlessly for one reason or another. There was a difference in that Wednesday always had a good reason - even when you tried to make her believe she didn’t - but that could be easily overlooked when her cold brown eyes appeared in your mind.

And Enid was often seen in the young intern at your firm. Possessing a giddiness that was so often lost in people. Her colourful nails that you had been unable to forbid were like a flash of the past. The only difference was those nails were typing away at a computer instead of leaving scratches along your back. It was difficult, on occasion, to differentiate the two.

The waitress set the drinks on the table, giving you a wink and smile in the process. You smiled back, showcasing your fangs as she turned and walked back to the counter. If Mr. Addams hadn’t accompanied you, you would have flirted with the woman. Flashed a bit of cash, invited her home for a quick drink of your own before sending her back on her way.

You stirred your espresso for no good reason. At least it gave you time to think of your answer. Mr. Addams was gracious enough not to push. A wonderful change of pace from Wednesday, who would push until she regretted it. Which she had. Oh, she had, and you had all suffered for it.

There was no way you could tell Mr. Addams why you wanted to decline his invitation. If you even so much as hinted at the carnage you had caused, there was a high probability he would not only rescind his offer, but paint you as the monster you had already claimed for yourself. With good reason, of course, you hadn’t earned the title by sitting around.

On the other hand, just the mere thought of seeing Enid and Wednesday made your dead heart feel alive again. You had done your best to fill your nights with women. One after the other, never keeping them long enough to even learn their names. Each a new attempt to forget the two women who had taken your heart all those years ago. They never filled the hole; if anything, they made it bigger.

Perhaps…

“When is this little soiree of yours taking place?” You asked with a sigh, finally looking up from your espresso.

Now that smile was identical to his sister’s.

“I’ll fetch you the invitation.”

—---

You stood on the balcony of your apartment. Smoke curled around your fingers as the cigarette rested between them. The heat from the lit end was almost unbearable on your skin; it was a welcome feeling. City lights twinkled around you, creating constellations yet unnamed by the human race. Perhaps one day they would be prominent enough to fit in with the constellations of old.

It was the night before the soiree at the Addams residence. You had done your best to remain in control of your emotions the days leading up to it. Hell, you had even gone so far as to hire a few women just a few hours earlier to keep your thirst in check. You would rather receive a stake to the heart than risk another incident like the one that had created this situation in the first place.

And yet, even with all your preparations, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had carved a home into the center of your chest.

The balcony door slid open.

“You coming back, baby?” The woman asked.

It was a shame you didn’t remember her name.

“Come on, baby,” she said, and you felt warm arms wrap around your waist. “I know you want another drink.”

You did. God you did. Just the thought of another drink left your throat searing. You tried to swallow, but all it did was burn like liquid fire trickling down your throat. With a sigh, you lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. If you were going to be in pain, you may as well finish off your cigarette.

“I’ll be there in a moment,” you said with an exhale that left smoke falling from your lips.

The warmth left your waist as she went back inside, and you heard her talking to… the… other woman. God, you really needed to learn the names of the people you drank from. If anything, it was the least you could do; it was polite. But you didn’t particularly care. All you knew was they weren’t Enid, and they weren’t Wednesday.

You were pathetic.

You took one more drag of your cigarette, feeling the heat burn the skin on your knuckles. The thick smoke left the taste of ash on your tongue and did nothing to ease the scorching pain in your throat. You dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it with your heel. You hissed when it singed your heel; you had forgotten you were barefoot.

If you had possessed any sort of soul, you would have felt guilt. There was something tugging on your invisible heart strings, begging you to care about the women you were surrounding yourself with. No, that wasn’t accurate. It wasn’t something tugging at your heart strings; it was two voices that had haunted you for years.

They single handedly ruined your night. With no shame and no clue that they had even done so, they had ruined it. The women around you weren’t the right women. Their skin was soft, but it wasn’t the same. Their freckles were in the wrong spots, and their nails and hair were the wrong colour. Each and every moan was the wrong tone, and these women just weren’t right.

It was a struggle, but by the time the night was over, you had more than gotten your fill. There was no possible way you would still be thirsty by the time you made it to the Addams residence. Though that didn’t stop you from grabbing a blood bag from the fridge and tucking it into your pocket before you left your apartment.

You stopped by the mirror in your hall to make sure you looked alright. It was custom made to not contain any silver, allowing you to see at least a semblance of your reflection. It wasn’t perfect, but it was like looking at someone through water. A little blurry, slightly distorted, but you could tell it was a person.

Your eyes were drawn to the dark scars that weren’t entirely hidden by your shirt collar. The majority of the scars were hidden, but not those. They were a stark contrast on your neck; a stark reminder of your monstrosity. Subconsciously, you lifted your hand to run your fingers over the taut flesh. They still ached.

Teeth ripping through flesh. You could hear the blood pumping from the wounds, pouring out over your hands as you tried desperately to stop the flow. Your own blood cascaded down your throat, erasing any satisfaction you had previously received.

You could still smell the blood. It made your mouth water.

You still wanted more.

You recoiled as if burned. Out of all the times you could have that memory, this wasn’t the optimal day. It didn’t require any consideration before you walked back to the fridge and grabbed a second bag, placing it right beside the first within your jacket. You had one shot; you weren't going to blow it.

It was a beautiful day outside as you approached the Addams mansion. The sky was overcast, almost allowing you to take your glasses off. Not that you would have, but it would have been a nice option to have. Large groups of people made their way up the steps and into the mansion. It truly was a stunning building; you had missed it.

You fell into the back of a group, ensuring you were silent and could walk in unnoticed. Yes, of course someone would notice eventually, but you wanted a chance to settle back into the excessively large house. The smell of the slightly-rotting wood was enough to ease your racing pulse. It smelled like home.

While everyone continued to slowly make their way into the ballroom, you went the opposite direction. Your hand trailed against the walls, maneuvering around each and every item that was hanging. The paintings and knick knacks and more recent looking photos. Some were new, or at least newer than you. They certainly hadn’t been hanging on the wall the last time you had visited.

The idle chatter of the crowd started to fade the further you went.The hallway turned into a slightly larger room filled with framed photos and awards. You let your fingers hover over the nameplates on the awards. Spelling Bee, First Place. A smile tugged at your lips as you moved on. Silver, Figure Skating. Down and down the line, you looked at award after award. There were names underneath, but you didn’t waste your time looking at them.

After the awards were the photos. You picked up the first one with gentle hands; a wedding photo deserved care. It was no surprise to see Wednesday in black and Enid in something so bright it was almost blinding. The image alone had your chest aching. They looked rather happy.

Their happiness didn’t distract you from the scars down the side of Enid’s face. The ones that traveled from the corner of her eyes to her jaw. Based on the colour in the photo, they were freshly healed. You couldn’t see Wednesday’s; she had a black lace wrapped around her wrist. From the look of Enid’s, you could imagine.

You set the frame back down on the table and stepped back. The curiosity had disappeared, quickly replaced with something heavy. With a tight chest, you backed out of the room and made your way to the ballroom with everyone else. The slight limp in your step worsened. A sigh fell from your lips as you had to lean against the wall and reach down to tighten the brace. Your jaw clenched almost painfully as the brace became insufferably tight around your leg, but at least it gave you the ability to stand on your own once again.

Until you were nearly knocked over by children running down the hall.

“Excuse me!” One of them called back. A chorus of the same words were quick to follow as the other children ran after the first.

“Behave!” You froze. “And don’t push people!”

“Yes ma’am!” The children shouted.

If you had known you would have such a visceral reaction just to her voice, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation. You had no idea your body itself would react to her voice. If you could sweat, you would have been. Your fingers twitched. Don’t turn, your mind told you. Begged, even. Desperate, feral, pathetic.

“Cara mia.” You forced yourself to take a step. “You forgot your shawl upstairs.”

Don’t turn around, your mind said. It was frantic. You forced another step. And another. Each one heavier than the last, as if your body was fighting with your mind. You truly were a fool to accept the invitation, and there wasn’t even a word to describe yourself for actually daring to appear. Stupid. That was the best word.

“Are you a vampire?”

You sighed and took a moment to calm your emotions before looking down. One of the children that had been running around was now standing beside you, looking up at you with bright eyes and a cocked head. It reminded you of- no, you wouldn’t think of that. You turned to face the child and shifted your weight to rest on your good leg.

“I am,” you said with a singular nod of your head. “And you are?”

“Oh,” they said with a smile. A large, wolfish smile. “I’m an Addams.”

You were thankful they couldn’t see your eyes. “Charmed.”

Of course they were an Addams. How could you ever think differently? The Addamses were magnets for trouble, and you didn’t have to know the child to deduct that they were, in fact, trouble. You turned away from them and looked back out into the ballroom.

“My mothers have a picture of you on their nightstand,” the child continued.

You wished they would leave.

“But you have scars, and the person in their picture doesn’t.”

You would have no shame in killing a child.

“My momma has scars too.” It would be simple. “They almost match yours.”

“Don’t harass the guests, dear.” 

Or perhaps you would simply kill yourself. It would certainly be less painful than whatever was about to happen. You could hear the echo of your dead heart beating loudly in your ears. Perhaps if you refused to turn around, she would continue walking. Walk right past you and into the crowd, leaving you behind as you so very much deserved.

But she didn’t continue walking as you desperately wished she would. She didn’t move out into the crowd, saying her greetings to the others as was customary. You could barely hear her footsteps at all above the incessant noise that you were wishing would get louder. Drown out all the thoughts and emotions bubbling up inside you.

“We weren’t sure you would come.”

You still refused to turn around. Even when you felt her sidle up next to you, her arm brushing lightly against yours. Oh, her warmth was glorious. You had forgotten just how lovely it was to feel her warming you up. To bring life to your soul in a way that only she was capable of. No amount of women in your bed had ever held a candle to her warmth.

“You look good.” Her voice was impossibly soft against the rising chaos of the soiree.

Growls and screaming echoed in your mind’s ear as you finally made the brave - or stupid - decision to turn your head. If you had thought your anxiety was bad before, you would have been impressed with your anxiety at that moment. The first thing your eyes took notice of were the healed, lightly coloured scars on her jaw.

The scars you had caused.

“You look healthy,” Enid said with a soft smile.

She looked so very grown. That childish glint in her eyes was still present, but she held herself with far more respect. The insecurity had long faded away, much like the scars that continued down her neck. The child was right; you almost matched.

“I fed before arriving,” you said. Your words felt like ash in your mouth. “No need for history to repeat itself.”

“We have more in the kitchen,” she said quickly. “If you need it.”

You opened your coat to show the two bags in the pocket. “I came prepared, thank you.”

She smiled a closed mouth smile and nodded before looking back out at the ballroom. That heavy feeling settled in your chest once again. After so many years, that was all you had to say to her? That you had fed already? Of course, that was probably the one thing she wanted to hear after so long. You were a fool. A damned fool.

“I hope the kids weren’t bothering you,” Enid said. “They get excited when we host gatherings.”

“They seem decent,” you said. Decent?? That’s the best you can come up with? “That one-” you pointed to the one with the bright eyes “-is rather talkative.”

Enid giggled, and for a moment, you felt young again. “Willa says she gets it from me.”

Willa. You could have laughed if it didn’t hurt so bad. Wednesday had always attempted to claim she hated it. Yet it never stopped the lightest blush on her cheeks when you or Enid would use the unassuming nickname. When was the last time you had even heard it?

Come on, Willa, put it down, I’m being serious.

You turned your body ever so slightly. You didn’t want Enid to see the scars creeping down your neck. Her hand brushed against yours. It was shameful how quickly you pulled your hand back, shoving it into your pocket. No good could come from her feeling the shake of your hand, or the scars that hid below the cloth of your clothes.

“Oh, there she is,” Enid said, this time reaching out to grab your arm a little harder than she probably meant to. “Stay right here, I’ll bring her over!”

The moment she left your side, the cold started to crawl back over your skin. It sunk into every vessel, every inch of your body, both inside and out. Attending the soiree was a mistake. A mistake that you couldn’t take back. Just like that night. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. You could leave before they came back and continue your miserable existence as you had been.

But then you saw them together, hand in hand. It was an unexpected thing to see Wednesday practically smiling at Enid. In public, that was. You couldn’t recall a single time she had smiled at anything in public. Yet there she was, walking closer and showing some semblance of physical affection in public. It was stunning. Your heart was almost beating.

Until your eyes landed on all the black lace that you knew covered scars no one could comprehend.

“I told you I saw them,” you heard Enid say as they both approached where you were frozen in place. “And I was right.”

Wednesday looked up at you with those stunning brown eyes. “So you were.”

Your fingers twitched in your pocket. Now that she was so close, you could smell her blood flowing through her veins. No matter how much you swallowed, you couldn’t ease the burn that was rising up your throat. You clenched your jaw tight, ignoring the sting of your fang piercing your lip.

Wednesday!

You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? “Hello Wednesday, I’m sorry for nearly draining you while you attempted to prove I wasn’t a monster.” Or even to Enid. “I apologise for trying to kill you when you stopped me from killing our girlfriend.” There was nothing you could say, to either of them, to justify what you had done. What you couldn’t forget.

“I told them you had their picture,” the previous child said as they approached along with the rest of the herd.

For the first time, you were thankful for children.

“So you told our secrets?” Wednesday asked. “You know what happens to those who tell our secrets.”

The old Wednesday would have sounded more intimidating and borderline threatening. Yet, even as her words said one thing, the soft look on her face said another. The children all smiled and tried to hide their laughter as they continued to look up at her.

“You’d better run,” Enid whispered.

Each of the children shared a look before running off, laughter following in their wake. It was almost… cute? Adorable, even? God, you needed to escape this place, you were almost turning soft. You needed to get back to your murderers and criminals, this was turning pathetic.

“As intimidating as ever, my love,” Enid said as she leaned down and placed a soft chaste kiss on Wednesday’s cheek.

It made you sick. The burn in your throat spread, turning into a searing pain in your chest and stomach. All that was left was the tingling in your fingers and legs and you were finished. You wished the inferno would swallow you whole, reducing you to nothing more than ash and bone.

“You seem pale,” Wednesday said.

It seemed you wouldn’t combust soon enough.

“I only arrived out of courtesy,” you said as you stood taller. “Now that I have said my hellos, I must say my goodbyes.”

You tried to act like the looks on Enid’s and Wednesday’s faces didn’t kill you inside. It was like a silver stake to the heart, spreading its carnage down every muscle fiber and blood vessel. After all these years, you had managed to hurt them again within only a few moments. And you didn’t even possess the decency to apologise for the first sleight against them.

“Do you have to?” Enid asked. “You could stay.” Her eyes fell. “We could talk.”

“Did Enid tell you we have more blood in the fridge?” Wednesday asked.

She circled her fingers around her lace-covered wrist.

“I don’t do house calls,” you said. You could hear Wednesday’s pulse over the crowd. “Especially with those I cannot pay penance to.”

And yet, you didn’t make a single move. Against your better wishes, your feet stayed glued to the floor. Each beat of Wednesday’s heart was enough to have your mouth salivating, yet you couldn’t leave. A memory popped into your head of Enid almost seeming disappointed that her blood wasn’t appetising to you. It was a fond memory, one you replayed often enough for it to seem like a core memory of your relationship.

“You could stay,” Enid said.

“We can go somewhere quieter,” Wednesday continued.

You didn’t want to go somewhere quiet, you wanted to go home. You internally scoffed at the word; you didn’t live in a home. It was just a building, with four walls and a new blood bag or two every night. You barely lived in it, instead opting to spend all your time in your office where nothing could remind you of the two women standing in front of you.

They were your home.

“Please?” Enid asked softly. Almost too softly. Even with your enhanced hearing you could barely discern the words over the jazz band that had started playing.

You sighed. Would it truly hurt to spend a few moments with them? To give you some semblance of normalcy that only they could provide? After all, you could see the muscles underneath Enid’s skin. If you truly lost control, surely she could stop you. She had stopped you before.

The scars reminded you of it every day.

“Very well,” you said with a slight nod.

Enid was the one to reach out and grab your hand, pulling it out of its pocket and linking her fingers with yours. Her nails dug into the back of your hand, drawing out a sting that was a welcome distraction. The ache in your throat was ever present as Wednesday walked right beside you while Enid led you out of the ballroom.

The hustle and bustle of the ballroom slowly faded into oblivion as you were led down the corridors of the Addams mansion. You could recall memories from each room you passed. Each with their own story to tell. Stories of stolen kisses, scandalous rendezvous, silent moments with the women you loved, but together and separate.

When Enid stopped in the kitchen, you would have laughed had it been under any other circumstance. It was clear they had the same thoughts on their minds when Enid sat you down and Wednesday retrieved a blood bag from the fridge. She placed it between you and her when she sat opposite you at the table.

How comical.

They both stared at you with unwavering gazes. What was going through their minds, you wondered. Were they feeling the same way you had? Broken, anxious about fucking up, convinced you had blown your chance? Or perhaps they were waiting for you to break and recreate what had happened on that fated night all those years ago.

You sighed when you deduced they wouldn’t speak first.

“You both look well,” you said in a croaky voice that, if they were wise, was indicative of the state of your instincts. Think of something else to say. “Are all those children yours?”

Think of something less ridiculous.

“Yes they are,” Wednesday said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was almost condescending; you loved it.

“Pubert said you’re a lawyer?” Enid asked.

“Defence attorney,” you said with a nod, “yes.”

“Is it, ah, fun?” She asked.

You sighed. If the entire night was going to go along those lines - awkward and uncomfortable, tip toeing around every word - you would rather leave. Not a single positive thing could come from such a conversation. It was talking for talking sake. You all hated small talk, that was something that you knew had never changed, yet there you were, struggling to find any sort of conversation.

“It’s acceptable,” you said before placing both palms on the table. “I believe I really should be getting on.”

You attempted to push yourself up from the seat. Attempted being the key word. It wasn’t often your bad knee would buckle when standing; usually reserved for long nights in your office where you had barely managed to take bathroom breaks. Yet when you pushed yourself up, you felt the strain in your knee. It was a familiar feeling, that weakness before a painful tightness that so often forced you back into your seat.

And it did. Your grip on the table meant nothing as your knee shook for a nanosecond before giving out underneath you. Thankfully the gasp never actually left your lips. You could taste the copper in your mouth as you bit your tongue in an effort to stay silent. In the end, your entire leg trembled.

Enid and Wednesday stood up quickly, knocking their chairs back and watching your every move. You wished they would come to you; you were glad they didn’t. The looks on their faces was terrifying enough. Identical looks to the ones they had had that night.

“Wednesday, put it down,” you said when she refused to remove the knife from her hand.

“Your fears of being a monster are unwarranted,” she said as she gripped the blade tighter. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

She had barely broken the skin before the scent hit you. It had been months since you had fed, and she had broken the floodgates. Everything about her disappeared except for the small drop of blood pooling at the bottom of her hand.

You didn’t feel yourself practically jumping toward her. You didn’t hear her gasp when you ripped the knife from her hand. You didn’t see the look on her face as you licked up the blood on her palm, or when you moved up her hand to bite the pulse point on her wrist.

But you tasted the nectar that flowed through her veins. You felt the strong pulse beneath your lips. You felt the scorching hot blood falling down your chin before you simply couldn’t keep up with the flow. Something vaguely pushed against your neck, but it was little more than a nuisance. All you knew was the blood in your mouth and the warmth on your lips.

Vaguely, you heard something. A scream, a growl, something breaking, you couldn’t tell the difference. It was nothing compared to the relief you were getting. How could you care about something in the outside world when you had such a delicious-

-something solid slammed into your body. The skin underneath your lips vanished, replaced by the cold air around you. When your body stopped rolling, you could feel the aches already starting to form. It didn’t matter. You zeroed in on Wednesday’s wrist again.

You were met with what felt like a truck slamming into your leg. Bones cracked, stretching the tendons and muscles with the new direction they were facing. It wouldn’t hold any weight when you tried to stand up. No matter; that was why you had two legs.

Something large and furry stepped in between you and Wednesday. Nothing about it was familiar in that moment. Instinct told you it was nothing but an obstacle in the way of your feed. It charged, and you swiped. Your fingers clipped something even as you felt its claws rake across your skin.

You tried to stand. Something sharp crossed your chest; the air was cold on your skin. When you stood up again, it was met with similar results. The third attempt got you closer to Wednesday. When something sharp clasped around your shoulder and threw you back to the ground, you stilled.

That hot blood you had gorged yourself on started to feel hot on your neck. Not in it, on it. You opened your mouth to speak and felt the liquid spew from your lips, falling down your face in all directions. Your hand lifted to the side of your neck. Your fingers pushed past the skin and then-exposed muscle.

As you pushed harder on the wounds, doing your best to staunch the flow of blood, the world started to come back to you. Blackness peeled back from your vision. The blurry world started to come into focus along with the sounds that you could finally discern as gasps and growls.

So did the pain.

You were drowning in the blood you had stolen. Your head lolled to the side even as you coughed again, spewing blood into the air like some demented fountain. A werewolf was across the room, hovering over Wednesday even as it transformed back into a person. Back into Enid. Her bare skin was shredded in places.

Wednesday was bleeding out from more than one bite mark.

You had attacked them. Both of them. The women you loved. They were bleeding out. Because of you.

You released the pressure from your neck and felt the blood continue to fall.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly. Something wet fell down your cheeks.

“I know,” Wednesday answered just as softly. It was humiliating.

It was lovely.

“Please stay,” Enid said. You looked down to see her reach her hand across the table.

You shouldn’t. You had nearly killed them, had gone into a frenzy that you hadn’t experienced ever again. What if it happened again with them? After all those years, you still loved them. You would never admit to anyone, but you kept their photos on your desk at work. You couldn’t risk hurting them again. Couldn’t risk killing them. You were a monster, and that fact alone was never going to change.

They looked at you expectantly.

For when is a monster not a monster?

You reached forward and placed your hand on top of Enid’s.

Oh, when you love it.

[scudslut]

Ok hear me out. Reader and Daryl go on a run for supplies with a few other people. Reader makes a mistakes and almost gets seriously hurt/ near death experience. Daryl gets pissed at reader, maybe yells at her. Reader laughs it off and acts like she doesn’t gaf. Daryl later finds reader all shaken up and crying by herself. Love if you don’t, love if you do!

stay with me

daryl x fem!reader

wc: 2k

warnings: typical twd gore/violence, mentions of death, mentions of trauma/ptsd

a/n: absolutely love me some good fluffy angst, thank u nony❤️ i hope you like it:))

As much as you tried to prepare yourself for the inevitable situations runs would put you in, the blood-chilling reality of it never got any easier. No amount of mental prep could stove off the sounds and smell of the dead, nipping ravenously for a taste of your sweet living flesh.

Of course, over time you’d learned just to shut your brain off and fight. Fight as hard and tirelessly as you possibly could, but mistakes could still be made. Shit happened, whether it was your fault or not.

Hours earlier, a group of you went a few miles east of the prison; Daryl having spotted a little strip a few days prior, not too overrun that he thought might be loot-worthy.

It was a simple run really. Keep close, hit a few shops in and out, then head back home. That’s it. Follow the plan, get as much useful shit as possible, and get the fuck out of there. You guys had it down to a science at this point, runs becoming so second nature it was almost too easy to let your guard down nowadays.

“Hey D, I’m gonna go check the storage room back here. Might have something we could use,” you voiced to your partner a few isles down, still keeping your tone as low as you could.

“Gimme a sec, I'll come help ya,” you heard him say but you kept moving. You two had already cleared the main area, you could handle a walker or two if there actually was any behind the small door. You figured you would’ve heard something by now, some sort of banging or grumbling to announce their presence, but there was nothing, the coast presumably clear.

You should have waited.

Crossing the few miscellaneous isles you reached the back door, giving it a small rattle. Still complete silence, not even the faintest groan or shuffle. Knife at the ready, hand clamped over the cool metal handle, your heart rate picked up a notch as it always did before opening into the unknown.

“You got this, come on,” you muttered to yourself, before throwing the door open, bracing for attack. The door flew wide, only to reveal a dark, empty room. Squinting through the dimness, a few high, dusty shelves were visible, stocked with all sorts of canned goods. Fuck yea, that was certainly useful.

“D! Come look what I found!” you rasped, dropping your knife into its holster and shuffling in. You unslung your backpack from your shoulders, digging through it for a flashlight excitedly. It’s been so long since you’ve found this much canned food, surely enough to keep the group well stocked through most of the winter that was approaching. A loud creak from the left caught your attention as you sped forward. Hands finally finding purchase on the flashlight, you flicked it on, scanning across the room to the sound.

Dust caked the air, making the already dark room fuzzier and your eyes took a minute to adjust. You took a few smaller steps closer, peering wearily ahead and then you saw them.

Beady, soulless eyes staring back. A whole rickety staircase of them, heads turning one by one to the light source in your hand.

“Oh fuck.”

There had to be at least 10 of them that you could see, the top of the stairs pitch black and unrevealing.

Your feet stumbled backward, hands desperately reaching for the knife at your hip, dropping the flashlight in the process. It rolled and caught under your heels, knocking you on your ass as the corpses advanced, jaws snapping.

These were those moments. When you felt your heart in your throat, brain stuttering on action. Time moved so slowly that the fragments were almost visible and every thought screaming in your mind sounded like gibberish. You know you should move, is that what it was screaming?

The first one got to you, grabbing your leg trying to crawl up and finally, you were kicking, scrambling, grabbing onto the knife and slamming it into its skull with a loud squelch.

“Daryl!” you yelled. You needed him. Now.

3 more dropped before you, slinking towards you and you were trapped — the first corpse lying heavily over your midsection.

“Yea, yea girl. I heard ya,” you heard him respond, still sounding a few isles away.

No no no, this was not how you were gonna die. Not today. Please.

You kept stabbing, each kill taking everything out of you as you struggled against the body weight atop you. They just kept piling, you could hardly feel your legs anymore, the circulation surely cut off below your knees. And more were coming, a never-ending stream of hunger.

Another one landed before you and you had just enough time to catch its shoulders before it was inches away, snapping at your neck. Your arms burned, tears welling in your eyes as you realized this could be it. You didn’t know how much longer you had before they gave out and rotting teeth would be sinking into you, tearing you apart.

The walker kept snapping, so close you could see the layers of rotting flesh peeling from its face. You had been close to walkers before, had stared into the lifeless eyes too many times to count, but this was different. More were coming and the face in the reflection of its eyes was barely recognizable — terror painting every feature you’d known on you distorted.

The bones cracked in its left shoulder and it dislocated, dropping down to centimeters from your skin.

“No,” you sobbed quietly. Daryl wasn’t going to make it, you knew that. He was going to walk in and find his girl as dinner. You hoped he just booked it, and didn’t waste his time trying to save what would long be gone.

The walker fell limp in your arms and you flinched harshly, expecting excruciating pain to follow as it bit. But there was nothing.

“The fuck are ya doing! Get up!”

Daryl was suddenly right before you, ripping each body off your aching limbs and you were now acutely aware of the larger pile by the stairs, all with arrows and stab wounds littering their heads. When had he gotten in here?

You didn’t hear his words, adrenaline coursing so loudly through your system that all that could be heard was a loud, shrill ringing.

“Goddammit girl, wake the fuck up!” he shouted, grabbing you by the shoulders in an attempt to lift you. Your brain caught up then, as he harshly placed you on your feet. Walkers scattered the floor around you, and a grumble at the stairs announced it wasn’t the last of them.

Daryl reached down, grabbed your dropped items, and shoved them in your dumbstruck hands. “We’re gettin’ outta here, now,” he seethed, dragging you along and slamming the door behind you both, crossing the lines of isles quickly to the front entrance.

The fresh, afternoon air hit your nose in a gust and the last of the fuzz chipped itself from your senses slowly.

“Hope yer fuckin happy with yerself. Can’t ever listen to a goddamn word’a mine, can ya?” Daryl quipped beside you. His eyes were slits as they dug into you, so fuming you could see the heat radiating off his skin in the early autumn brisk.

He was angry at you, you knew that. But you also knew it was because he was scared. Hell, you were fucking terrified to stone back there, but if you wanted to calm him down at all, you knew you had to act unfazed.

Gathering any remaining wits about you, you took a deep inhale, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting them.”

He didn’t respond, wouldn’t even look at you anymore as he began to pace the graveled parking lot.

“Hey don’t stress Dar. I’m alive, we’re good,” you attempted to soothe further.

“Don’t stress? Yer a real piece a work, y’know that! Always fucking up everyone’s shit cause ya don’t wanna use yer brain, huh?”

Well, that did not go as you expected.

The rest of the group had started shuffling out of the other shops around you, making their way to the vehicles.

“Jeez, you need to lighten up,” you brushed past him, head high. You couldn’t let his words affect you, not with all the other emotions coursing as well. You didn’t understand what he meant. You had never put anyone other than yourself in danger, how could you possibly be fucking over everyone else?

You decided to wait in the car as the rest of the group went back for the cans, tag-teaming whatever walkers remained. The loot had decently filled both trunks and everyone was happy to call it a day and head back.

Your eyes followed Daryl as he jumped into your car, eyes trained on the windshield, “Ya alright at least?” he muttered glancing at you briefly while shifting the car into drive.

“I’m good, you big grump,” you huffed with a tight-lipped smile. “That much food will last us a long time. I believe a thank you is in order, don’t you think?”

You were not good. Not at all, but there was no reason to worry him anymore, putting him through enough today as it was. Your hands were shoved tightly under your thighs, so he couldn’t see the tremors racking through you.

You had smelt death so many times it didn’t bother you much anymore. Today you had smelt your own. Saw your life in that walker's eyes, mere seconds away from demolition. It was safe to say you were shaken to your core.

The journey back was silent, both not in the mood to chat for very different reasons, and the whole time you were trying to keep each breath of yours steady.

You helped unload as much as you could, before slipping away discreetly to your cell. You didn’t want anyone to see you like this, you felt kind of pathetic honestly. This was life now, it had been this way for a long time now, you shouldn’t be so shaken up as you were but the terror just wouldn’t leave your body.

Panic washed over you once again as your eyes hit your dim cell. Your mind was quickly slipping back into those last moments, the darkness and dust all too similar. The fear you had felt coating your veins icily and your breaths started to become agitated. There was nowhere else to go though. If you left the cell someone would see you.

Subconsciously, you backed yourself into the corner of the room, crumbling down to the floor with your head in your hands. Deep down you hoped your hyperventilating would knock you out. You didn’t want to think anymore — see it anymore. Tears were burning the back of your throat as you held down sobs, feeling the walker's hands and weight atop of you all again.

A small yelp escaped you when the hands became real. Pressure on your shoulders and waist and your head snapped up from its hiding spot, reflexes already prepared to fight whatever presence was with you.

“It’s jus’ me, hey, hey,” you heard through your panic, his blue eyes just recognizable through blurry tears. “S’okay, relax.”

You couldn’t calm down this time, vicious sobs finally breaking their way out of your frame. Running was your first thought; you didn’t want anyone to see you like this, Daryl or not. Emotions were never a strong suit of yours and would always find yourself dealing with them in private, away from sympathetic words and pitying eyes. But Daryl was never like that, he drew you in and held you tight, uttering no more words other than the ones to confirm it was him. If you asked him to say more, he would, but he knew this was what you needed. Someone to ground you back onto Earth and out of whatever images tormented your head.

So that’s what he did. Held you for hours as your body expelled all its terror and lingering adrenaline. He’d give quiet coos through each wave of shakes, grabbing a blanket to warm you through the cold sweats. And finally, once the fear faded to exhaustion, he scooped you up off the stiff concrete and into your soft cot.

“Stay with me?” you rasped, throat parched and raw from crying.

It wasn’t a second thought for him. He was never truly angry with you, and he knew you knew that. He needed you safe with him.

“Always.”

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Cry for the Moon

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 |

Pairing: Zuko x firebender!reader

Warnings: none

A/N: I did end up writing more, thus we get to see our fav boy Zuko in the upcoming chapter - but I quite enjoyed writing this one and digging deeper into the internal struggles of the reader! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I did writing it ^.^

Taglist: @annonymatic @yoongiesstar @lost-inthe-v0id @lokigodofmyheart @4l3x1s @potato87123 @asciendo @angelruinz @unamused-boss @junieshohoho @yourlivewire @itszzmoon @coolgirl458 @vyliie

Mai’s raven hair was, just as you had last seen her, partly in two small buns and the rest fell on her shoulders. The dark, sleeveless jacket seemed to be a new one but other than that, her maroon clothing and black, fingerless gloves were the same as always.

As soon as your amber eyes found the slim figure of Mai, an uneasy feeling appeared in your stomach. Even the mere sight of her made you uncomfortable for every time you laid your eyes on her, the fact that you were never going to get your former best friend back hit you like a wall of bricks.

Even after Zuko’s banishment, or after you got together with Shuzi, the raven-haired girl insisted on keeping her distance from you. Not that you would easily forgive her, of course, but you found her stubbornness childish from time to time.

[Flashback]

You found Mai sitting on her swing at the backyard of her parents’ house, moving back and forth ever so slowly. The dull expression on her face became duller, as if it was possible in the first place. You felt the heaviness on your heart growing.

“Mai, I know there is something bothering you.” You said as you approached her carefully, you were afraid she would run away just like a cat. “Please, talk to me.”

Mai shook her head. “No, I don’t want to.” She said, it was obvious that she was trying to hide the sorrow away, but she was so heartbroken that made it almost impossible. “I cannot stand looking at you anymore!”

You felt tears rushing to your eyes, but you quickly sent them back. “Why? What have I done to you?” You asked as you sat next to her on the swing. “Mai, you are my best friend. I don’t want to lose you.”

“It just hurts too much,” she muttered while kicking the stones on the ground. “Seeing you and him together all the time.”

She was talking about Zuko.

“Mai, I…” Honestly, you didn’t know what to say. You were aware of Mai’s obvious crush on Zuko for years, but everyone knew that it was decided long, long ago that you were going to be his future wife. “You know that our parents have decided that when we were just babies.”

Suddenly, Mai stood up from the swing with a furious aura surrounding her. “I love him, okay? I should be the one with him! You… You are just acting that way because of this stupid arranged marriage!”

For the first time in your thirteen years of life, you heard Mai screaming.

You swallowed for a few times to destroy the lump in your throat, you were on the verge of breaking down. “What makes you believe that I don’t love him?” You asked with a low voice, trying to keep your emotions under control.

Mai let out a scornful laughter. “Ah, please. Zuko - he is a fool for you, but you are simply with him for the sake of duty and power. It is obvious.”

Slowly, you felt sorrow turning into fury as you stood up from the swing. “You are wrong.” You said with a cold tone. “I do love him. And if you had been really my best friend, you would have known that. You would have seen that.” As you shook your head, you turned back to leave Mai all alone. “As it turns out, you were only acting to be my friend. Out of duty.”

[Flashback ends]

Mai didn’t even look at you as she put her hands together and bowed slightly towards Azula. “Please tell me you are here to kill me.” She spoke with her usual, dull, emotionless tone. Then, she looked up at Azula with a slight smile on her lips.

Azula placed her hands on Mai’s shoulders as she giggled. “It is great to see you, Mai.”

Ty Lee rushed forwards to give Mai a big hug, ignoring the fact that Mai was not a fan of hugs. The gloomy girl gave Ty Lee an uncomfortable pat on the back. “I thought you ran off and joined the circus.” Mai said as she stepped back from the hug. “You said it was your calling.”

“Well, Azula called a little louder.” Ty Lee said, hiding the sarcasm in her tone skilfully, only you knew what she really meant by that. Once again, you found yourself feeling sorry for the poor girl – she only wanted to follow her passion.

Slowly, Mai turned her head to meet your amber eyes. “Hey,” she said with a small nod, her voice lacked even the tiniest bit of emotion.

You, too, had put on your resting bitch face. “Hey.”

Azula rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way. “Oh, come on! It has been three damn years.” The Princess turned her gaze to Mai, pointing at you with her right index finger. “She has been dating someone else for the last six month and none of you have seen my fool of a brother in over three years!” Azula took a deep breath to try and calm herself down. “Just leave that childish drama behind you already!”

Well, I kind of saw him a few days ago … which caused weird feelings and thoughts to arise …

Before you or Mai could say anything, Ty Lee spoke. “Well, technically, the arranged marriage is still on – as long as Zuko comes back with the Avatar, right?”

You let out a scornful laughter. “Ah, please, as if he stands any chance now that we are on the hunt as well.”

Azula looked at you with a smirk on her lips. “That’s my girl.” You winked at the Princess, who turned her gaze to Mai once again. “I have a mission and I need you all.” She said as she laid her right hand on your shoulder, her eyes wandering between all three of you.

“Count me in.” Mai spoke with an annoyed expression on her face. “Anything to get me out of this place.”

[Time Skip]

You shielded your amber eyes from the sun as you approached the three figures standing on the other side of the road. Two of them, who were standing on the sides, were wearing blue clothing that resembled those from the Watertribes.

The boy on the left was holding a baby, probably Mai’s brother, and had his hair in a stylish ponytail. To the right stood the girl with hair loopies and a water bag. The boy in the middle was, unlike the other two, in yellow-orange clothing with an orange hat-like piece on his head. You raised an eyebrow to yourself upon seeing that he was carrying a staff.

As she was the one responsible to carry out the trade, Mai stood forth and the rest of you waited behind her. Meanwhile, a crane was lowering the metal cage that held King Bumi of Omashu as hostage.

Quickly, you eyed Azula up – you were sure she had another motive behind this trade. A baby for a king, eh? I don’t believe this is something Azula would approve of.

“You brought my brother?” Mai asked. The boy with the staff nodded as he pointed to his left, showing the baby.

“He is here.” The boy said. “We are ready to trade.”

Just as you expected, Azula interrupted. You couldn’t help but smirk. “I am sorry, but a thought just occurred to me.” Azula spoke so naturally, it was impossible to point it out as perfect acting if one didn’t know Azula good enough. “Do you mind?”

Mai turned to Azula. “Of course not, Princess Azula.”

For a moment, it seemed as if Azula was weighing down some options. “We are trading a two-year-old for a king,” she said at the end as she looked up at the King of Omashu with an arched brow. “A powerful, earthbending king?”

The King himself nodded.

Azula’s eyes wandered between you, Ty Lee and Mai. “It just doesn’t seem like a fair trade, does it?”

You kept your chuckling to a minimum to avoid being heard, you had known that exactly this was going to happen. Knowing Azula good enough, it was to await that she would have an ulterior motive in taking the matters in Omashu – or rather New Ozai as the Princess had recently renamed the city – in her own hands.

It was Mai’s call now, she had to decide between family and duty.

“You are right,” Mai said with a voice that lacked even the slightest bit of emotion, even towards her own little brother. Well, one could clearly see that her brother was – at least for now – in good hands since the boy in blue clothing did his best to keep the baby safe and comfortable.

She probably wants to carry out Azula’s part of the plan first.

“The deal’s off!” Mai announced and held up her hand, gesturing the guards to pull the King back up.

However, no one – and especially you – wasn’t expecting the boy in the middle with yellow clothing to start using his glider to fly behind the King. Without even thinking about it, you reacted the same way as Azula and you both sent flames in his direction to block his path. The boy dodged the flames by leaping high into the air.

Did he just… Airbend?

As the boy used his glider with airbending, he lost his hat, leaving his arrow tattoo exposed. You and Azula gasped at the same time. “The Avatar!” You both said simultaneously.

A smug smile formed on Azula’s lips. “My lucky day,” she muttered more to herself, then she called out your name. “Follow me!”

[Time Skip]

The attempt to capture the Avatar in Omashu had, unfortunately, been unsuccessful – but it was something to expect considering that none of you were prepared to face the Last Airbender and a King that could earthbend simply with his face.

As the royal palanquin was being carried out the city; you, Mai and Ty Lee walked besides. You felt yourself sailing from one thought to another, dangerously close to getting lost in the vast ocean that is your mind. Chasing the Avatar made you realise something: you had never thought about how it would make you feel while helping Azula capture the world’s last hope.

You had complicated feelings and thoughts considering the war, the Fire Lord and the Avatar. It was for a fact that you despised Fire Lord Ozai after everything he had done to Zuko and Azula, you held him directly responsible for Azula’s corruption.

Of course, there had been a big Ursa factor as well, but that was a whole different topic.

Even though you were loyal to your nation until the very end, you didn’t really want to see Fire Lord Ozai becoming the supreme ruler over the Four Nations. He was a horrible man, he lacked even the slightest bit of empathy and compassion. A man who was incapable of loving his own children should be, under no circumstances, given such great power over all of humanity and its destiny.

But then, there was Azula.

You had mastered the skill of detaching your emotions from your actions when it came to her, which enabled you to carry out tasks which would otherwise burden you when awake, asleep and even dead. Your loyalty, compassion, and love towards Azula was stronger than everything you had known – well, except for the love you had felt for Zuko, but that was long gone.

You knew you needed more time to reflect upon this dissonance you were experiencing but you believed that standing with Azula was more valuable than anything you could think of at that moment. All these years, you had put in so much effort, time, and tenderness into your relationship with her – even the mere thought of doing the slightest thing to shake her trust brought you on the verge of a break down.

“So, we are tracking down your brother and Uncle, huh?” Mai asked, which caused you to come back to the present moment. You shook yourself.

Ty Lee giggled. “It will be interesting seeing Zuko again,” she spoke teasingly, “won’t it, Mai?”

At first, you kind of waited Ty Lee to divert the same question to you and correct herself but quickly, you remembered that you had been together with Shuzi for over half a year. Whether you would see Zuko again or not didn’t really matter anymore, despite the arranged marriage still not being called off.

“It is not just Zuko and Iroh anymore,” Azula spoke with a serious tone. “We have a third target now. The Avatar.”

You felt knots in your stomach.

As you headed towards the ship to spend the night and plan the rest of your mission, Azula explained Mai and Ty Lee why she decided to leave the royal guards and the navy ship behind. The main problem was to find a means of transportation that was fast, could go over any kinds of terrain without having the need to find a road and was strong enough to overcome any bending.

“What about using a tank train?” You suggested, earning an intrigued look from Azula, who was still sitting in the royal palanquin. “I am sure the army can spare one of them for the Princess’ mission.”

Azula made an approving sound. “That is actually brilliant,” she muttered, more to herself. “They are designed to travel at high speeds over most terrain without the use of tracks, but they can still accommodate many people – we can take some servants with us to run the errands.”

Ty Lee seemed a little bit uncomfortable. “I don’t want to be stuck in a metal machine for days – I need sunlight!” She was playing anxiously with her braid.

“I wouldn’t mind not having to see the sun for a while,” Mai muttered, not much to your surprise. “I don’t like the way it disturbs my eyes.”

“You would rather live in a black hole for the rest of your life.” Ty Lee rolled her eyes at Mai, causing her to shoot an angry glance. You bit the inside of your cheek not to laugh – Ty Lee was more than right in her statement. If you gave Mai a bucket of never-ending black paint and a brush that could be extended as much as one needed, she wouldn’t rest until she painted the whole sky black – setting aside the fact that such a thing is impossible to carry out.

The Princess heaved a sigh. “You can jump onto the roof to do your sunbathing, Ty Lee, as long as the insects flying at your face do not disturb you.” Ty Lee grimaced upon hearing Azula’s words. “And Mai, you are free to lock yourself up in a dungeon, as long as you are there to fight whenever I need you to.”

This time, you couldn’t hold back your laugh. Azula raised an eyebrow as she looked at you, whereas Mai and Ty Lee carried annoyed expressions.

“Do you also have a specific request?” Azula asked you. “And no, you are not allowed to bring your dog to our mission.”

You rolled your eyes at her. “For the last time, Azula, he is not a dog – I am not putting anyone on a leash.” Upon hearing Mai mutter something under her breath, you shot her a warning look and turned back to Azula. “And no, I am completely fine, as long as you leave those two sisters back on the ship.”

It was no secret that you despised Lo and Li, your hatred towards the sisters seemed to both amuse and entertain Azula every time. The Princess let out a small laughter.

[Time Skip]

The whole ship was asleep as you sat on the front porch, watching the night sky while the cool wind played with your hair, which wasn’t in the top not anymore. It was cool outside; you shivered and wrapped your arms tighter around your body – the red gown wasn’t thick enough to keep you warm. Heaving a sigh, you used your breath of fire to get rid of the shivering.

Ever since you had agreed to help Azula on her mission, you found yourself carrying out inner battles more often than usual. They used to be, when Zuko’s banishment was just new, the only thing you had known for a long while; however, after accepting the hard truth, you thought the battles would be finally over.

And they were, for the last two years, you didn’t have to deal with any internal conflict.

Until the thoughts about the Banished Prince and your distant past crept out from the dusty corners of your mind. You thought you had forgot him long ago – everything about him had to be burnt to ashes. As it seems, this had never been the case, the realisation of which was hitting you just now.

There was no compassion for him left in you, this was the truth; however, your past feelings for Zuko were still enough to confuse you, to distract you. It was like a sweet poison: the embrace of those distant memories felt oh so sweet and familiar – it felt just like home – but when you realised that they were in fact chocking you, drowning you – it would be too late.

I should have never let my mind wander off to those forbidden territories of my own memory. You thought to yourself as you breathed out crimson flames, the gentle touch of the wind was making you shiver once again. I cannot allow myself to get distracted. Not now.

Maybe… Maybe I should just face him.

That particular thought seemed to strike interest and excitement within you. Ever since the Banished Prince abandoned you on the deck when he left the Fire Nation, you secretly had been craving to face him and scream at him, tell him all those wicked things you wished he had heard from you.

Tell him how he broke your heart to a million pieces, burnt all your love to ashes and threw them out into the vast ocean.

And thank him for letting you turn into this thing that could disconnect her emotions from her actions simply by taking a deep breath and thinking about the strong bond she shared with his sister.

“You keep lecturing me about getting enough sleep and yet here you are – not sleeping.”

You chuckled as you turned left to look at Azula, who was standing next to you. She, too, was in a red robe, but hers was adorned in gold around the collar and the sleeves. She had let her dark hair down, which looked absolutely pretty either way.

“Do as I say and not as I do, Princess.” You responded, gaining an eyeroll from her. Slowly, you stood up. “I have trouble sleeping.”

Azula nodded, she also seemed thoughtful. “I understand.” She paused for a moment. “You were thinking about my brother, weren’t you?”

You didn’t see any point in lying – Azula knew you good enough to tell when you were hiding something, just like you could do it with her. “He started messing with my head, again.” You spoke with a low tone, avoiding Azula’s amber eyes as you looked at the dark waters ahead of you.

The Princess laid her hand on your shoulder with a soft manner. “I can understand why his presence would confuse you,” the warmth in her tone caused you to meet her gaze. “But I need you in her best form and mind – distractions are not something we can allow at this moment.”

It was quite rare but sometimes, when it was just the two of you, Azula would let her shields and icy walls down. Every time when such a time came, you couldn’t help but adore how much she trusted you – you doubted that even her own family knew this side of Azula.

You nodded with a small smile on your lips. “I am very well aware of that, and I do not intend to disappoint you, Azula.”

The hints of a smile could also be seen on Azula’s lips as well. “You have given me no reason to think you would disappoint me.”

“I really appreciate your words, sweetheart.” Your amber eyes lit up with happiness. “For the matter of your brother, I think I have found a solution – I am going to put an end to these distractions.”

“Exactly what I was hoping to hear,” Azula said as the edge of her lips curled upwards. Then, she gave your shoulder a small squeeze. “Come on now, we both need our beauty sleep – or you are going to end up having eye rings, remember?”

You grimaced as you followed Azula into the ship. “Nobody wants that.”

[cemeteryspider]

Hi! Ok I’m here with my request I was wondering if I can request Rex dating a fem!reader who’s like raven from dc? Like powers and all that and Rex is just so in love with her 😔(May it please be like dating hc’s? Please and thank you🫶🫶🫶)

Rex-Splode Dating Headcanons

Rex-Splode! Rex Sloan x Raven! Reader

Trigger Warnings: Nightmares

Word Count: 925

You met Rex during Guardians of the Globe tryouts. You had also seen him get his ass beat by Monster Girl. Luckily, after this incident, he was less of a douche overall.

However, things changed once the Guardians started to become a team. He would try his best to be around you whenever he could. You would be running on the treadmill, and then all of a sudden he was running next to you. You could be making a sandwich, and he would be making his right next to you. Or you would sit and read your book, and he would scroll on his phone near you, occasionally glancing up at you when he thought you didn't notice. You did.

Then one day when you were pummeling a punching bag, he asked if you would like to get coffee sometime. You knew he had feelings for you, and you felt in your bones you should say yes.

A date to an art gallery and one dinner later, you and Rex made it official and told the team, who seemed shocked. Either you were exceptionally good at hiding your relationship, or they just couldn't believe you would date Rex.

~~~

You love your personal space, Rex also loves your personal space. The two of you could be walking down the street, it would have to be hand-in-hand, or maybe his hand would be in your back pocket. This annoyed you to no end at first but quickly you understood the constant wanting to be close to you was because he wanted to protect you. You would never admit it, but you loved him.

His favorite time to be in your personal space is during a fight. He would bottle the feeling of you guys standing back to back using your powers to protect each other. When you crushed invading aliens who wanted to kill him, he never felt safer. You made him feel safe.

Simply, he loves to make you laugh and smile. Even though you keep a straight face and hard demeanor around other people, you are a totally different person than when you were with Rex. Somehow his silly sarcastic personality leaked through into yours, and he could make you giggle without even trying.

He loves to see you train with the other Guardians, especially Invincible. Being from a demonic bloodline, you could go toe-to-toe with the Viltrumite, without too much damage, and more often than not you would best the newer hero. After all, you could practically tear Mark apart with the darkness you controlled if you wanted to.

Of course, he hated when he had to fight you. Not because he was scared he would hurt you, no, he was scared you would hurt him. Even going easy on him, you would beat Rex easily. Teleporting away from any explosives he threw your way, and wrapping smokey black tendrils of darkness around him or, as gently as possible, throwing him into a wall with your telekinesis.

You would always apologize profusely after taking him down, but he would always reassure you that he loved you and your powers. Maybe you would even explore using your powers in more intimate places in the future.

~~~

However, once in a battle with Machine Head and his goons, you start to be overwhelmed with the other's pain. When Rex saw you fall to your knees all he could see was red. You held your head in your hands and started to feel yourself lose control.

Your eyes glazed over black, and you screamed. At this point, Rex had just taken out Machine Head and started running over to you as objects all around you started to float and shake. Kneeling next to you, he took your hands in his.

"Hey, babe, come back to me, everything is going to be okay. You just need to come back," Everyone who wasn't passed out on the ground looked at the tense scene in front of them.

They all knew what could happen if you truly lost control of yourself. You had once leveled a skyscraper only to rebuild it moments later.

Still, some part of you listened to Rex and allowed yourself to come back to wherever in your mind you retreated to. You allowed yourself a vulnerable moment, letting yourself slump into Rex's arms. He held you tight until the medics arrived, and still held your hand when you were carried away on a stretcher, even though you promised you could walk.

~~~

Rex could never let anything bad happen to his girl. You were his everything and the only person he would let his sarcastic walls down for. You appreciated the black roses, and eventually black dahlias he would get you after telling him it was your favorite flower.

He would bandage your wounds after a battle, once you took care of him because you always insisted on patching him up first. Kiss your bruises whenever he sees them. He would put his arms around you when he saw your eyes unfocus and zone out, and bring you back to reality.

He would tell you he loved you at every chance he got and showed you off every time he got the chance.

"Look at this picture of my girlfriend, she's so hot"

"Did you see her fight? She's just so amazing"

"Ah she just makes me feel, so differently than I ever have before"

He practically drooled every time you walked by him. He loves the way you look. Anything you wear he wants to rip off of you and start to kiss every part of you. It could be your skin-tight leotard and cape, your casual sweater and jeans look, or your silly Rex-Splode pajamas he got you as a joke.

(The pajamas do something to him idk)

~~~

Rex has always helped you with the nightmares that plague you when you sleep. When Rex lost his hand in the fight against the Lizard League, you still regret not being there, you helped him through his nightmares. Soothing his mind and, with his permission, lulled him back to sleep with your powers. He knew that subconsciously you were calming him down to the best of your ability, and he knew why he always slept better when you were around. 

You treated Rex like more than he ever saw himself as, and he didn’t treat you like the monster you felt you were. You each healed something inside the other, and if that’s not love then you don’t know what is.

[bokettochild]

Thank to rub salt in the wounds, Twi.

Not only your timeline was perfectly FINE, not only the hero before you isn't DEAD but he left you a sword in a perfect condition.

Twilight didn't have to fight, as a child, to survive in a cruel world. The hero before him did'n't fail, he didn't leave the sword in a horrible condition.

I wonder if Legend has guessed that the hero before Twi was Time, seen Twi's smile. (it's kinda obvious seen how close they are)

Did he guessed that Time was the hero before him too? And he chooses to stay silence to not hurt anyone? Time has never been the hero of time in his timeline after all and is probably died as a child.

But outch Legend's face....it's a mix between "Yep you are a lucky boy" and "if only you knew about the hero before me or maybe "thank to remember me how much a tragic mess my timeline is"

Because Legend is too nice and patient to say "how nice for you, the hero before me died against Ganon, his sword was in a horrible condition with still his blood on her, so much that i have had to reforge her myself! As a CHILD."

No Legend is too nice to take his bitterness on Twilight who did nothing wrong and didn't know. He'll shallow it and says nothing about the sword's condition in his timeline.

I think that's a big part of who Legend is actually! He comes off as really bitter and cold, at least as far as Twilight is concerned, and I wish there was more focus on that interplay.

Twilight met Legend and, based off of a few limited interactions, mentally labeled him as a bully and a jerk and thus treats him accordingly. Not without reason of course, he's drawing mental parallels to actual bullies and Legend is unintentionally checking the boxes, but I think it's sort of sad that until this point, Twilight has still not bothered to get to know Legend at all beyond his initial observations .

But the fact remains that Legend IS from a world that was in shambles, a world where everyone is a threat, if not to everyone else than at least to him. Legend is a prey animal trapped amongst predators with little to no guidance. The cards of fate are stacked against him as far as his world is concerned, and while the goddesses may have granted him additional blessings and favor to make up for that, his world is still magically a mess, physically a mess, and just generally a mess.

The vet has no legacy of proud heroes to look back on. The First Hero died. The Hero of the Four Sword is a raging lunatic who tries to murder children and is sealed beneath the castle. The Hero of Time died in combat. This is the legacy he gets to follow in. Legend doesn't have the hope of becoming like those before, he has the fear of meeting a similar fate because life is never kind to heroes.

Legend's world was left in shambles, and he's had to be the one to help rebuild it, only to watch it get torn down again and again as enemies undo all his hard work. But on a more personal note, Legend has tried again and again to establish himself in the world just to have all the people he loves hurt or harmed on his account.

His Uncle died, and even though he was brought back, he disappears from the timeline shortly after, leaving a kid hero alone in the world. Legend's grandparents have high expectations and aren't the best at listening when he says that their wishes make him unhappy or uncomfortable, and instead push him to follow them anyway, only to themselves disappear from his life once the Oracle adventures are over. Din, Ralph, Raven, Nayru, Moosh, Ricky, Dmitri, all these are people Ledge befriended and was close to and had to say goodbye to again for one reason or another.

Marin.

Legend is always losing the people he loves most, watching his work get thrown in his face and receiving little to no thanks for his work. He's still actively treated like a nuisance and a threat by some people in his kingdom and no doubt there are others who simply don't believe him.

The whole world is against him, and yet the only thing it's done is made him defensive. Ledge isn't cold or cruel, you can see that he actively cares for and worries about the other heroes, he's just guarded more than they are about it. Still, in times of high emotion the walls fall and he's his true self: that kid who's got a heart too big for his own good and is going to get it broken again.

And Legend knows this. Legend actively knows that Twilight isn't fond of him, and that the other heroes regard him as an ass, but rather than correct them, stand up for himself, provide even one of the thousands of reasons he has to guard and defend his heart like he does, he just lets them have their peace because what good would it do to tell them about the losses he's suffered? The world he grew up in? The legacy he has to bear? The terrible fate he no doubt expects to one day meet? What good would it do to make them love him if that will just make their inevitable parting all the harder?

It's hard to lose those you love, but it's easier if you convince yourself they never actually loved you, so you're better off.

So yeah, Twilight is over here unintentionally rubbing salt in the vet's many wounds, but Legend keeps his mouth shut because it does no good to speak up, and in the long run, at least as far as he thinks, it's better to let it be.

I kinda hope Twilight will come to understand the vet better though, and maybe get a peek at what has hardened up the younger hero enough that he comes across the way he does. I'm pretty sure his whole outlook would change if he did, and his respect for the vet would definitely increase.

[droopycoquette]

Hole-In-One || Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You go on a golfing trip with Caitlin.

Warnings:  established relationship, fluff, c*nn*r(thats a warning in itself)

Word Count: .8k

|*|

You turned the page of your book as the wind fluttered the pages, in the background, you could hear your girlfriend’s golf club hitting another ball, then silence like clockwork. You’ve been doing this for the past hour and a half. You loved being here though, even if you didn’t know what the point of golf was, just watching your girlfriend show off her athletic prowess was enough to make you happy. 

You glanced up from your book to check what was going on and saw your girlfriend squatting down on the green, you took in her backside and how the fabric on her shorts fought to hold it. You felt a gentle tug on your lips before quickly averting your gaze back down to your book. 

“Babe,” your head shot back up. “We’re ready to move on.”

You hopped up from your spot in the shade and ran over to your 6-foot, raven-haired giant. 

“Are you winning,” you asked cluelessly as you bounced around her. 

“I guess, we’re not really competing though,” she giggled as you found your place beside her, carrying her water bottle.

“Hey, have you ever played golf,” Connor asked jogging up to you both. 

You almost forgot he was there. 

“No,” you smiled, hiding an internal eye roll. “My family was too broke for golf. Besides, it’s boring.”

You whispered that last part to yourself as you continued to walk with Caitlin, telling her about your book and skipping around the green. Eventually, you decided on scaring the geese that were waddling around laughing as the waddling quickened you got closer. 

Caitlin caught Connor looking at her with a ‘seriously’ type look on his face. 

“What,” Caitlin chuckled. “She’s bored, she’s gotta find something to keep her busy.”

Caitlin watched you sneak up on a group of unsuspecting pigeons next and she paused to take out her phone.

You began to run towards the birds, laughing as they flew away.

“Linnie did you see me,” you giggled, sprinting back to her when you were done. 

“Yeah babe, I did,” she laughed. “I even got a video.” 

“Dude, you need to get out of the way now. We’re about to start up again,” Connor informed you. 

“Oh,” you pouted. “Okay, I’ll just go over there.” 

You pointed over to some shade, stumbling over your feet slightly as you began to walk over to the spot. You looked down as you walked, taking note of your Converse, the whites of your shoes now colored green making you frown. With your attention on your shoes, you didn’t notice the hand snaking around your waist until Caitlin pulled you into her. 

“You’re adorable you know that,” Caitlin muttered to you, peppering your cheeks with kisses in between words. 

“Thanks, I guess,” you giggled, her lips tickling you. 

“I love you,” she sighed, before pecking your lips and twirling you away. 

You stared at her as she ran back to the course, watching as her thigh muscles worked to support her, and her ponytail swayed right to left. You began to salivate until you snapped out of your daze. 

“I love you too! I hope you get,” you paused as your lack of golf knowledge was revealed. “The golf equivalent of a three-pointer!”

At that, Caitlin cracked a smile that warmed your heart. 

“Thanks, babe!”

She watched as you sat cross-legged, getting emersed in your little book world, eyebrows furrowing in concentration. The basketball player found herself snapping pictures of you, her face starting to hurt from smiling so much. 

“Clark, are you going to go or what,” Connor called out rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah,” Caitlin called back, her tone distant as she kept her eyes on you, walking closer to the teed-up ball. “What?”

Connor stared at her with annoyance, “Why did you invite me? If I knew this was basically going to be a date and I’d be third wheeling I wouldn’t have come.”

“Sorry,” Caitlin shrugged as she prepared to hit the ball. “I didn’t know that my girl would want to go with us. And with the limited time I have with her, I didn’t want to say no.”

Caitlin took a deep breath before swinging gently, hitting the ball flawlessly. Then, it was silent before you snapped your head up at cheers. 

“Babe! Babe,” Caitlin screamed running towards you. “I got a hole-in-one!”

You quickly stood and welcomed her into your arms. 

“I got a hole-in-one,” she repeated panting.

“That’s g-great love,” you smiled before your smile dropped. “That’s good right?”

“Yeah,” she giggled, kissing your cheek. “That’s good. It’s basically where a shot gets into the hole with no other shots.”

You just smiled and nodded, poking your fingers in her dimples, staring at her lovingly. 

“There is not a single thought behind those pretty eyes, is there,” she asks, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Nope.”

|*|

[imperiuswrecked]

pssst can i please ask you to spoiler the raven baby reveal to me...?

So the summary of X-Men Blue: Origins (2023) Mystique is wandering around New York acting crazy and mumbling about her lost baby, Kurt catches up with her and tries to talk her into calming down.

Kurt gives Raven his sword which breaks the mental barriers and it's revealed that while Raven was married to Baron Wagner, she and Irene were an on again, off again, couple who would hook up with other people whenever it helped their goals.

Raven had hired Irene to be the housemaid so she could stay close while Raven was married to Wagner, using his money/influence as they wanted and having a torrid love affair with Irene in private. Azazel shows up and Irene encouraged Raven to have an affair with him as well, because she had visions of the future.

Basically Irene wanted a love child with Raven, but needed Azazel to believe he was the father because she knew that unless Kurt was set on a path to be his constant foe/destroyer of his plans then Azazel would rise to power.

Irene's visions aren't something she can stop and she lives her life according to how to bring about her visions but she doesn't tell Raven any of this until 5 years after Kurt's birth. So she and Raven have a child, Kurt, and from my understanding of the reading, Mystique can copy the genes down to a molecular level and took the gene patterns from Azazel and Baron Wagner and impregnated Irene. So Kurt doesn't have 2 parents, he has 4, well 5 including Margali Szardos who was his adopted mom. Kurt is now battling for the #1 spot for "most parents and most confusing parental origin in comics" and he's up against the Maximoff twins who have gone through 3 sets of parents.

Back to the story, Raven dumps Azazel who is such a pathetic loser, I love that lol. Raven fakes being pregnant by shapeshifting to look like she is pregnant as the months go by. Baron Wagner discovers his wife's affairs, and being the homophobe he is, is stabbed by Raven who then spends the next few months switching between forms to make people believe that the Baron and his wife are both still around, waiting until Irene gives birth. I'm guessing because Raven intended to use the Baron's money/pretending to be him so she and Irene could live in comfort or until they wanted to move on.

Irene is the one who gives birth to Kurt, and Raven overcome with joy/love for Kurt doesn't want his first sight of her to be human so she reveals herself.

The townspeople are of course in an uproar, want to kill the demon woman and her demon child, Irene tells Raven to get to safety and that she would be ok, but Raven fears for Irene so she leaves Kurt under a tree and rushes back to kill the people who would hurt her wife and discovers Irene is missing, she runs back to find Kurt and he's gone too.

Five years pass and she finds Irene again, this time watching a young Rogue, Irene reveals everything to Raven, the Azazel vision, Irene needed Kurt to be raised as an outcast etc. Raven and Irene both know they are in a toxic relationship, but they love each other too much so they went to the one man who can make everything worse, Charles Xavier. Of course Xavier does what he does best, erases people's memories and implants new ones.

So now Kurt has 2 deadbeat mutant moms, 1 deadbeat demonic mutant father, 1 dead human father, and 1 adopted mother and they all give him the most drama & trauma that you will ever see in comics! Love wins (?)

I am currently taking donations to hire Kurt a therapist (who isn't Professor X), save an elf's sanity and donate /jk

I will say that this origin, though very messy, does at least confirm that Irene is just as messy/toxic as Raven, so I hope they continue to be totally bad for each other and 100% in love, which is very refreshing to see in wlw couples and I really hope they do not try to soften their edges, especially Raven's, I do not want a "good mother Raven", but time will tell. Also finally Kurt is Baron Wagner's son technically due to partially copied genetics so it finally makes sense for why Kurt has the Wagner last name, which is something that always bugged me, because imo if he had zero connection to the Baron then he wouldn't have the Wagner last name. Also this doesn't invalidate the Azazel retcon from before because again technically Azazel believes Kurt is his son, and Kurt does have partially copied genetics from Azazel.

I think it was a really tough balancing act to have to write, I wish it could have been written a bit better or the thoughts of Rogue actually being Irene/Raven's daughter would have worked better. Like imagine if Raven and Irene were both pregnant, Irene had Rogue and Raven had Nightcrawler or Irene had them both as twins, then they wouldn't just be foster/adopted siblings but also bio siblings, and it could have opened up the door for more stories involving them as brother and sister trying to deal with their mothers. Marvel constantly ignores the potential for Rogue and Kurt's sibling dynamic and I wish we got more of it in the comics. I get that the writer was trying to keep to the old canon while creating the new canon and using the original plan for Kurt's parentage, so while I feel it's way too complicated this is also comics where complicated plots and retcons have been a long standing tradition meant to torment us readers.

[staar5384]

PLEASSEEEE PART 2 OF CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS 🙏 COUNTING ON YOU

champange problems 2

neuvillette x gn!reader

hurt/no comfort - pure angst yet again - implied wriolette - they/them pronouns - light spoilers for 4.1 at the end

you ask and you shall receive! here's the highly request pt. 2! here's pt. 1 for those interested

You weren’t aware how long you had left Fontaine when you returned. After you rejected Neuvillette’s marriage proposal, you disappeared without a word. Guilt and shame ate away at you, and you couldn’t bare to face him after you had humiliated him in front of the entirety of Fontaine.

You took a vacation down to Mondstadt, where you spent your days wandering the vast wilderness and your nights drinking your sorrows away in the taverns. You made friends with a few of the locals in your drunken state. You blubbered and sobbed about how much you missed Neuvillette, and how you regretted throwing him aside the way you did. They all told you the same thing each time; “If you love him so much, go to him.”

After some convincing, and a lot of pondering, that’s exactly what you did. The journey back was excruciatingly long. Each day you weren’t back home trying to reconcile with your lover was another day your heart ached for him.

You had hoped that when you returned, people would have forgotten about the events that took place that night, but you were wrong.

Everyone stared at you as you walked the streets. They threw disgusted looks at you, whispered amongst themselves. It wasn’t undeserved, but it was uncomfortable.

You arrived at your shared home with Neuvillette, unlocking the door, and stepping inside. Adeline, your Melusine made, took notice of your arrival, “You’ve returned,” She said, her voice soft. “It’s been so long. The Monsieur and I have been so worried!”

“I’m sorry to worry you, Adeline,” You gave her a smile. “Speaking of Neuvillette… Is he here?”

She shook her head, “No he’s in a trial right now. Then there is a banquet tonight he’s attending.”

Unsurprising. There was always some sort of event happening thanks to Furina. “Thank you, Adeline.”

“May I ask a question?” 

“Of course. What is it?”

“Forgive my intrusion, but why did you say no to the Monsieur?”

You shouldn’t have been so surprised by the question, but it still caught you off guard, “I don’t know. I really don’t.”

You had decided you would find him at the banquet tonight. You dressed up in your finest clothes, then headed for the Opera Epiclese. Just like your walk to your home, this one also consisted of stares and whispers. You kept your head down as you moved along. 

The guards outside stared at you for a moment. You weren’t invited, you knew that and they did too, but they didn’t try to stop you.

The building looked just as beautiful as the night you left it. The purple and blue hues were replaced with grays and reds of varying shades. The flowers that once symbolized love were replaced by strings of stones and crystals that shone in the dim lights of the opera house.

You could feel all eyes on you as you walked around. You picked up a drink offered to you by a Melusine. You thank her, looking down inside. It was a purple color, and it smelled almost floral. You took a small sip. It was iced tea. Confusion struck your face. Since when has anyone ever served tea in the Opera Epiclese?

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Furina. She was ascending the stairs with a black haired man in tow. You vaguely recognized him; he stayed down in the Fortress of Meropide. The two were speaking, the man chuckling as she spoke.

Furina turned her attention toward the crowd below her. She glanced out at everyone, scanning the crowd until her eyes locked with yours. They widened, then she nudged the raven haired man. He focused his attention on you, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you.

You felt your body warm in embarrassment. Why did they have to draw so much attention to you?

You placed the half empty glass of tea aside and rushed into another room. The room was fairly empty, only a few people resided in it. You found a place in the corner to tuck yourself into. All you wanted to do was find Neuvillette, but instead you’ve attracted the unwanted attention of every person there, including the Hydro Archon.

It was going to be a long night.

Neuvillette had spent weeks planning this banquet for his friend, Wriothesley. The man had been his rock after you left, and he deserved the recognition for the hard work he did in the Fortress of Meropide. 

He looked at himself over and over again in the mirror. Was his hair a mess? Did his face look flushed? He had just finished a trial and had no time to stop at home and wash up, so his appearance felt off.

“Checking yourself out?” 

Neuvillette jumped, turning his head to see who was there, “Wriothesley, you startled me.”

Wriothesley leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Who would have thought I could scare the great Chief Justice?” He chuckled, pushing himself off the wall and approaching Neuvillette. 

This gave Neuvillette a chance to look him over. The man was dressed in a deep gray suit with a maroon tie that hung loosely around his neck. The suit shirt hugged around his chest, leaving none of his features to the imagination. “You’re staring, Neuvi.”

Neuvillette’s face turned a deep red, “Ahh yes, sorry. You look good tonight. That’s all.”

Wriothesley laughed, “And so do you. Stop freaking out over it.”

“How did you know?”

“Only a person worried about their appearance stares so deeply into the mirror. Well, except Furina. She does it because she’s a narcissist.”

Neuvillette let out a breathy chuckle, “Oh Wriothesley, be careful. She may hear you.”

As if on cue, Furina burst through the door, “Wriothesley! Did you tell him!”

“Tell me what?” Neuvillette glanced at the man.

“Oh. Right. Umm-”

Furina cut him off before he could speak, “They are here.”

Neuvillette’s heart sunk deep into his chest. A wave of emotion rushed through him. “What?”

“We saw them in the crowd. They were entirely alone, but I think they were looking for you,” Furina replied.

“We can kick them out,” Wriothesley shrugged. “They technically weren’t invited.”

“No,” Neuvillette said. “Let’s not worry about them. This night is not about me. It’s about you, Wriothesley.”

“But how can I enjoy my night if you’re uncomfortable?”

Neuvillette was slightly taken aback by his words. He cleared his throat, shaking his head gently, “I’ll be alright. Let’s get out there and have a good time. I’ll pretend as if they don’t exist.”

Wriothesley and Furina just glanced at each other, before giving in. The three left the room and began to engage with the party. 

Wriothesley stayed close to Neuvillette, his hand lingering against his waist, hand, or any other part of Neuvillette’s body. The two were incredibly close, not moving away from each other for longer than necessary.

Furina took notice of this, of course she did, she loved the drama of Neuvillette’s ex being here as she watched what was most likely a blossoming romance.

The night continued on, and so far, Neuvillette had not seen you. Thanks to Wriothesley, he rarely even thought about you being here. 

You had been wandering around the opera house in search of Neuvillette. Has the damn place always been so big? 

People began to take less notice of you as their attention drifted towards the festivities. You were thankful, as it made your night a lot less stressful.

“Where could he be?” You mumbled to yourself before you saw him across the room. He was seated beside the man from before, and he looked so content. 

The two men were chatting and laughing. You saw the man’s hand rested on top of Neuvillette’s, their fingers intertwined with each other. 

You stared at them for a moment, unable to process the scene in front of you. Another person was holding onto Neuvillette’s hand, another person was making him smile in ways only you had been able to. 

Were you too late?

Wriothesley noticed you first. His grip tightened on Neuvillette’s hand as he stared you down. It was almost as if he was challenging you to act.

Neuvillette noticed the sudden tightness of Wriothesley’s grip, “Is everything okay?” He glanced at him, then in the direction he was looking in. There you were.

Tears were in your eyes as you were unable to fully process the scene in front of you. Time felt like it had stopped and there was nothing but you and the two men in front of you.

Neuvillette rose from his seat, releasing his grip on Wriothesley’s hand. He whispered something to him, then began making his way to you.

As his figure moved closer, you almost ran once again. Your heart hammered in your chest almost painfully, as if trying to beat through your ribcage.

Once he was in front of you, the whole room turned its attention to the scene. Neuvillette cleared his throat and waved his hand, “Let’s go somewhere more private.” You nodded, and the two of you left the room together.

Now you were entirely alone. No guests, no Furina, no random man holding Neuvillette’s hand. The silence was uncomfortable as neither of you knew where to start or what to say. 

“Why are you here?” Neuvillette asked, keeping a good distance between you two.

“I,” The words were trapped in your throat. “I’m here for you.”

Neuvillette let out a sad chuckle, “You know, months ago I would have loved to hear those words, but now,” He turned his head away from you. “They mean nothing.”

There was a sharp pain in your chest as he spoke. It felt like dragging a blade through your heart. “Neuvillette, please. I-I’m so sorry,” You tried to move closer, but he raised his hand to motion you to stop.

“Your apologies won’t repair the damage you caused. Do you know what it was like to stand on that stage, watching your lover run away from their heartfelt proposal? Do you know how it felt to become the talk of the city? I was pitied by everyone. I leave my comfort zone to throw a beautiful party, give you an emotional speech in front of so many people, and you not only reject me, but you disappear entirely,” His voice was getting louder, and you could see his hands shaking. “So on top of the heartbreak you caused me, I spent every day and every night worried sick for you. You left without a single word. You could have died and I would have never known. And you only just now feel sorry?”

You could hear the rumbling of thunder from outside, and the sound of rain hitting the roof of the Opera Epiclese. You stood there in silence with your head hung low. Shame, guilt, it was all bubbling inside you. 

“Nothing to say?” He said, his voice cracking. You still said nothing in return. He scoffed, running his hand through his hair. “After everything I said, you can’t say a single word.”

“I shouldn’t have rejected you like that. I should have talked to you about my fears. Instead, I ran away like a coward. I spent so much time sulking and feeling sorry for myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to fix the damage I created.”

“And now you want to try? I fixed it myself, so don’t worry. I don’t need your help. Not anymore.”

Tears were falling from your eyes, your face flushing as you cried, “I still love you, Neuvillette.”

“Well, I’m sorry to say I don’t feel the same.” There was a flash of lightning outside, illuminating the empty room. “I suggest you leave. You were not invited here, and do not expect an invitation again,” Then Neuvillette spun around and left.

You watched the door open and close, leaving you alone in the empty room. A minute passed, then another, and two more after that. Your body and mind had completely frozen. The beating of your heart was painfully fast and hard. You silently cried, listening as the rain fell from the sky.

When you finally had the courage to leave the room, you made sure your exit was quick and unnoticed. Rain was pouring from the sky as you left the Opera Epiclese. You knew why it was raining, and now you had to walk back to your once home in your ex lover’s sorrows.

a/n- i feel way less confident in this than the first part, but you requested a part 2, so i had to deliver. i almost went the less angsty route, so maybe i can make an alternate ending that is actually happy. also i tagged everyone who was interested in a pt. 2. i hope that's okay!

taglist- @soggywafle arccanejj erosdevil just-a-fuegoleon-fangirl @heartfatelust 

[ravencincaide]

Just like Dazai 

Summary:  No one liked being compared to someone else. Especially when you suspect that there was much more to your boyfriend's relationship with his ex partner than met the eye. But did it really matter? After all, you'd never be able to meet his expectations. Because you weren’t Dazai. No matter how much he compared you to him. 

Pairing: fem! Reader x Chuuya Nakahara 

Inspired by Raven’s special anon prompt: “Chuuya accidentally hurts the reader with something he said or done. And he realizes it only when he sees her hurt expression and when she runs away from the room? “ 

Warnings: Cursing, mention of alcohol consumption, hurt/ light angst. hint at SSK, 

Enjoy

“ Goddamn it, you’re just as fucking bad with your bets as Dazai” 

The smile faded off your lips and twisted down into a frown. Your laughter which rang out together with the loud music of the arcade died down in your throat. All that was left behind was the obnoxious tune of the game you two had been playing for the past hour or so. The victory dance and loud screech on your screen and the ��you lose’ on Chuuya’s with an even louder melody which seemed to mock the ginger. Without your joy and laughter you could clearly hear it now; the frustrated growls of having lost yet another round of the game he swore he would kick your ass in. The musings at the fact that he was supposed to be better than you, the bitter one-line comparisons between the way you played the game and Dazai. 

It was always Dazai. Dazai would have made a different attack in that last second, and then Chuuya would have had you where he wanted you. Dazai would have missed that last shot and then Chuuya would have been able to– 

His quiet rant left a bitter taste in your mouth. You had only ever caught sight of the ex-mafia executive once as a new recruit  but now you seemed to constantly exist in his shadow. Dazai, who was supposedly only a mission partner, was someone your boyfriend compared you to. Dazai, the bastard who was no longer in the Port Mafia. Dazai who was so much smarter- he would have goddamn planned better for the mission and then there’d be no casualties. Dazai who’s reports were always short and straight to the point when delivered to Mori, while yours were always too long. Dazai this, Dazai that! 

Dazai wasn’t there- he had left of his own volition while you stayed and served and slaved. Fought for the Mafia- fought for Chuuya. Showered him in love, affection and care. And yet still, somehow, despite not being Dazai you lived in his shadows. 

 Whatever for? 

Suddenly, Chuuya’s firsts made contact against the dashboard of the arcade machine between you two- an action which caused several other patrons to inch away from you in visible fear. Normally you would have scolded Chuuya for his brash actions, now you merely glanced up at him in question. There were two tokens clutched in his fist- a frustrated demand for yet another rematch. “ Another time, this was just dumb luck, yeah! Final round and I’m gonna kick your pretty lil ass, sweets!” 

But you were not in the mood for games. 

You were bitter, angry in the way no one seemed to understand. On edge in a fashion that not even the cocktail beside you- or the alcohol in your system- could calm. You didn’t bother to plaster a fake smile on your lips as you slid off the slightly too high chair. Your heels made contact with the sticky arcade floor and you bitterly mused that Dazai would have likely moved with more grace than you had. No, he wouldn’t have needed to jump down; he was the perfect height to just slide off the stool with dignity. The thought made anger flare in your gut. Your eyes looked anywhere but at Chuuya. “ Another time, okay?  I realized I forgot something”

You caught sight of his surprised expression, the confused hurt look on his face as you turned on your heel. Of course you disappointed him; that’s all you seemed to do. Unlike Dazai who– 

You cut your trail of thoughts off and hurried out. You did not wait for his reply, did not look back at him as you stumbled out of the arcade room. Past the pool tables, pushed through the sweaty tipsy queue of other patrons who waited to order their up-tenth drink and then out into the chilly evening air. Your feet carried you faster and faster for every second, until you turned down unfamiliar streets which lead you away from Port Mafia territory. That lead you further and further away from Chuuya. 

But at that moment you did not care. Because why should you? Why had you even bothered trying in the first place? Why had you put effort into getting to know Chuuya? Why had you bothered trying to share your skills and passions when all you were to him was nothing but a replacement? A replacement for the partner who left Chuuya behind. 

A man you would never be able to surpass, and so you were doomed to forever reside in his shadows. Because no matter how hard you tried, you would never be Dazai. 

Author note: So we start off Raven's specials with a little angst. (Yes I know it's not Sunday, but I have a plan, trust me. So shhh)

Don't forget to check Raven's masterlist! and wait for the next Special ;) ©ravencincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reposted/copied anywhere else without my consent, please inform me!

[delta-piscium]

@steddie-week day 1: Hunger | 1.1k words cw: light angst in that Steve is a little sad/dealing with some mental stuff but like hurt/comfort (not EDs which mental stuff combined with the prompt word might make it seem like, hunger is used as a metaphor)

Sometimes Steve doesn’t talk to anyone for days. He just shuts himself in his room and hides, barely leaves his bed. Pretends he doesn’t exist, or that time has stopped and he’s the only thing that exists.

Sometimes, he’ll go back too soon, feel bad for the ignored calls and drag himself out of bed to see the people who matter most to him. But it won’t feel warm and soft those times. He’ll be too raw and It’ll feel like they’re grabbing his insides and eating them. Pulling his heart and brain out of his body and devouring them without letting him eat theirs in return. 

Usually, he’s okay with that. He knows his place, he knows that’s what he’s for. For other people to get fed. And he’s happy to feed, to do that for them. 

He loves them, of course he’s gonna give himself over. It’s just that sometimes they take too much. They don’t know they do he thinks, they don’t know they’re eating him alive. That he’s presenting himself on a silver platter and letting them take take take, and that sometimes they take too much.

That’s why he disappears, so he can grow back. So he can give more. Because if he stops giving he's afraid they’ll get tired. He won’t be useful, he can’t give when he’s like that. He starts craving, he starts wanting. He feels starved and wants to take and feed too, and that’s not part of the deal. He’s not supposed to eat, he’s supposed to be eaten. So when he turns hungry and ravenous he hides, he isolates. 

Robin is the only one who truly gets this about him, who doesn’t take and demand. She gently accepts the things he gives and never without giving too, forcing him to stay whole. It’s overwhelming and sometimes he has to hide from that too, he doesn’t know how to deal with the force of it. He’s so used to the constant hunger it’s a shock when it’s gone but he’s gotten better. And anyway, he and Robin are part of one whole so whatever is given or taken between them is never really gone. It stays with both of them.

Robin is the only one, or she was the only one he should say. Because now there’s Eddie. Eddie who gives and gives and gives, almost as much as he does. But who doesn’t seem to dwindle and dim like Steve does. Who doesn’t seem to starve or hunger. Eddie who notices when Steve does, when he stumbles and gets greedy. Who holds him up and makes him whole with a look, a touch, a word. 

Eddie who breaks in through his window when he shuts himself in his big empty house and lays with him in his bed, softly telling Steve stories and running his fingers through his hair. 

It’s wonderful.

It's the worst. 

“I’m afraid you’re gonna end up as empty as me,” Steve tells him, whispers it into the dark. “That you’re here now and you’re giving and I’m taking and you’re gonna be the one left with nothing.” 

Eddie doesn’t respond immediately but hums in acknowledgment, lets him know he heard and is thinking. 

“This is good for me too,” he says eventually, “being with you and resting. Getting to be here for you when you never used to let anyone but Robin be. It’s good for me too.” 

“It can be good and still drain you.” Says Steve, knows it to be true. He doesn’t resent giving the way he does, he loves it, it’s good. It drains him. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees, “this doesn’t drain me, you’re comforting me too. It’s balanced.” 

Balanced. That’s what Robin tells him too. That’s what Nancy sometimes asked him for when they dated and he couldn’t let her see the cracks. That’s what he wonders about with his other friends. 

He doesn’t usually know how to do that. He doesn’t know where the lines are. He doesn’t understand how Eddie knows. 

“You let me give, and I let you give, so it’s balanced. We don’t take from each other, we gift and we receive. It’s balanced. You have to let other people give sometimes too, Steve.” 

It hits something deep in him, the last words. He knows this, he doesn’t want to know it. 

“I’m afraid they won’t. if I open myself up to it. If I ask, I’m afraid they won’t.” He says it so quietly it’s almost inaudible but Eddie hears. 

His hands still in Steve’s hair for a moment before moving again, gently scratching his scalp. 

“I know baby. But that’s not fair, they want to give too. If they knew how much they took without giving back they’d be heartbroken. It’s not fair to you or them.” 

Steve lets Eddies words wash over him, he knows he’s right. They’d be nauseous with it. His sweet wonderful friends and family would be crushed.

“Sometimes it will happen, maybe,” Eddie continues when Steve doesn’t respond beyond a sharp breath in. “Sometimes people won’t know how to give after only getting but you gotta let them try. Sometimes they’ll learn and adjust, sometimes they won’t and you’ll have to deal with that. But you can’t starve yourself like this because you won’t let them try.” 

"What if I take too much?"

"Then they talk to you, like you should talk to them."

“When did you get so wise,” Steve snorts, his voice is tight but he makes the effort, tries to lighten the mood. Deflects, like he always does. 

Eddie lets him, a little, knows Steve has to. But he’s still serious when he answers.

“Wayne is like a never-ending well of insight and digging around in everything, never lets me get away with shit.” 

The opposite of Steve’s parents who were the first to take from him and never give, never look into his eyes and tell him to eat. 

“He’s a good guy,” Steve tells Eddie instead of weighing him down more than he already has. Instead of acknowledging and relieving the hunger pang that strikes him at the thought. Even now, here, he doesn’t know how. 

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “I’m here to relay his wisdom, like playing telephone with whatever stuff he teaches me. The things your parents took away from you.”

Eddie still knows, of course, he does. He always knows.

“And what do you get?” Steve has to ask.

“I get you. I get everything.”

Steve smiles, turns around to kiss Eddie. He doesn’t feel empty when Eddie kisses him back, hungry. When he takes and devours. 

[samgirl98]

Mending a Family 2/?

Prev | Next

TW: MENTIONS OF SUICIDE/ SUICIDAL IDEATION

Disclaimer: I don't know anything about Roy Harper except what I've learned through fandom and Wiki. Please excuse me if he is out of character. Roy accidentally finds Jason.

Roy couldn’t believe his eyes. Jason Todd stood a few feet in front of him. The same Jason Todd who died years ago. He had red hair instead of black, and his eyes were green instead of blue. He was taller and broader, and a kid was hanging to his leg.

Roy would recognize him anywhere, no matter how much he had changed.

(Jason’s death was the reason he fell to alcoholism and tried to commit suicide via Killer Crocodile.)

“Daddy, I want to get closer to the edge,” Lian said.

Lian had wanted to see Niagara Falls for her sixth birthday. He never imagined he would run into a dead boy.

Jason hadn’t noticed him yet. Roy had no idea what to do. It’s not as if he could Dick and say, “Hey, how have you been? Did you know your dead brother is walking around Niagara Falls with a kid in tow?”

Roy could imagine how that conversation would go.

“Sorry, sweetie, it’s too dangerous,” he answered his daughter a beat later. His little girl pouted. Roy couldn’t help but smile. He loved Lian so much it hurt sometimes.

Suddenly, the little boy holding on to Jason looked at Roy with eerie green eyes before tugging on Jason’s pants and pointing at Roy. Jason looked at them. Roy watched as Jason’s eyes grew in fear before he got the little boy and ran. Well, if that wasn’t confirmation, Roy didn’t know what was.

Roy didn’t want to leave Lian alone, so he let his old friend run from him. It seemed he had some favors to call.

____

Raven was the only person Roy could think would help him without wanting to spill the beans right away. Wally was Dick’s best friend and would tell him immediately that they found his little brother alive; Starfire was out of the picture for similar reasons. Garth wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret. Cyborg could go either way. And Donna would want to go to Dick without even investigating first. So, Raven it was.

 Once Roy explained who he saw and why he went to her, Raven agreed to help him.

She teleported them to Niagara Falls.

“There is a feeling of death here; it’s very strong.”

“Well, he did die. If he’s back…”

Raven shook her head, “It’s more than that. It feels like death magic but not malicious.”

Roy blinked. How was death magic not malicious?

Raven lifted him telekinetically, and they flew past the Canadian border.

Twenty minutes later, they landed in front of a little cottage in the middle of the forest. Jason was sipping a cup of tea on the porch on a rocking chair. He glared at Raven and Roy.

“If you wake my kid, I’m gonna kill you,” he threatened in a low voice. “What do you want, Harper? Did Dick send you?”

Roy blinked at Jason’s hard tone, and then what he said caught up to him.

“Dick, why would Dick send me? Aren’t you supposed to be dead?”

Jason snorted.

“Of course, they didn’t tell the hero community about the failure of the Batfamily coming back,” he said bitterly.

Roy blinked and turned to Raven, who frowned. Then what Jason said hit him, “Wait, Dick knows you’re back?!”

An hour later, Roy knew everything, and he was fuming. Dick had no right to keep something like this from him. So Jason had come back angry and spiteful; who cared? He was better now. Roy could understand not telling the whole damned world, but he couldn’t have told Roy that Jason was back? Roy almost committed suicide because of Jason’s death!

“So, how does the kid factor into all of this?”

Jason drank the rest of his now cold tea.

“I found him when he got spat out through a portal. I couldn’t leave him. I know it sounds weird, but I have a connection with him. We’re similar.”

“Not similar,” Raven said, “the same. Whatever he is, you are, too.”

Jason smiled sadly, “We’ve been touched by death and came back different. He’s not fully human. He’s half ghost, half human. Please, don’t tell the Bats you found me. They’d take him away from me, and I don’t think I’d survive it.”

Raven put a hand on Jason’s shoulder, and he felt a wash of calm come over him.

“Don’t worry; I know how you feel. I won’t tell anyone.”

“Me either, kid.”

Jason gave them a grateful smile. His eyes were suspiciously wet,

“Thank you.”

There was a beat of silence.

“So, when can we meet the tyke,” Roy asked.

Jason frowned, “When he wakes up. He doesn’t sleep enough, so I try to let him catch his Zs.”

“But I’ve been awake this whole time, papa,” a small voice said; no one was around.

Roy looked a bit spooked, and Raven looked surprised. Jason sighed.

“Danny, show yourself.”

A little boy with black hair and blue eyes appeared before them.

“Chum, you’re supposed to be asleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep; I felt a weird spirit’s presence. I wanted to make sure you were safe.”

Danny looked at Raven.

“You’re not like me and daddy, but you’re not fully human, either. What are you?”

“Danny, that’s rude,” Jason scolded him.

Danny pouted, and Raven laughed.

“It’s okay, Jason, he’s just curious. I’m half-human, half-demon.”

“That’s so cool! Me and daddy aren’t fully human, either. We’re halfas—half-human, half-ghost.”

“Danny, I’ve already told you I’m not a halfa. I don’t have any powers.”

“Okay, whatever you say, papa,” Danny said in a sing-song voice. Jason sighed.

Suddenly, Danny turned serious and pierced Raven and Roy with an intense look, “You’re not going to tell those bad people about us, right? They hurt daddy.”

Both Roy and Raven looked at each other. Raven flinched when she felt Jason’s overwhelming sadness and grief hit her. He was fingering a scar he had on his throat. How had he gotten it?

“Danny-lad, I already told you; I hurt them first. It’s okay; you don’t have to be mad at them.”

Danny’s eyes turned an eerie shade of neon green that had Raven shivering in her skin. Jason’s eyes turned into the same shade in response.

“It’s okay, Danny,” Raven tried to reassure the kid, “Nobody will find out about Jason from us.”

Danny looked at her for a while longer before nodding.

“Good, they don’t deserve him.”

Jason sighed.

“C’mon, I’ll make us some breakfast.”

Raven got up and followed the boys into the little cottage. She frowned as she felt a disturbance in the air. She looked south; something big was coming.

Hundreds of miles away, a green portal opened. A young teenage girl with red hair and glowing, teal eyes stepped out with a toddler in her arms. She was armed to the teeth.

“C’mon, Ellie, let’s go find our brother.”

Jazz is here! Is it a bit early, maybe, but I couldn't help myself. I chose Raven as the Titan to help find Jason because of her empath powers. She'd be able to understand Jason, and she's half-human like Danny and Jason. Jason is in denial that he is a halfa, but his powers will come in the future. We might not see the Batfam for two or three chapters.

@justwannabecat @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @skulld3mort-1fan @vythika96 @theauthorandtheartist @emergentpanda-blog @jaggedheart11 @fisticuffsatapplebees @booberrylizard @fantasticbluebirdfan @thegatorsgooseoose @cyrwrites @kjoboo91 @crystallicedart @amaramizuki666 @spekulatiusmuffin @meira-3919 @kilasmess @bubblemixer @lexdamo @wonderland-daisy @mj-arts-n-stuff @amyheart19 @dolfay @the-church-grimm @undead-essence @aph-mable @lizisipancardo

[spacebarbarianweird]

Astarion Dhampir Daughter Headcanon P.4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

She always dresses like "this woman who has buried three husbands and is ready to bury the fourth one."

When she was a kid, Astarion would sew her dresses - they were supposed to be both practical and pretty, with a lot of hidden pockets.

Even though a few centuries old, Alethaine still carries her father's dagger in her boot (the one he gave her when she was 19).

She never allowed anyone to touch her silver waist-length hair.

Only Tav was allowed to brush and braid them.

When Tav died, Alethaine cut the hair short in grief.

Regretting it immediately since elven hair takes centuries to grow back.

They grew back faster than Alethaine expected, but to her own dislike, they weren't silver anymore. They were raven black, more suited for a dhampir.

For a decade, she lived in Dhampir Freehold, the city founded by the oldest of the Underdark spawns' children.

Unluckily, dhampirs are solitary creatures, and the history of the Freehold ended in worshipping abyssal demons and bloodshed.

Alethaine, having much better intuition and being a skilled necromancer, had managed to escape before things went south.

She has a living beating heart, but undead blood runs in her veins.

The blood which enables immunity to vampirism because no vampire would be able to feed on dhampirs.

Alethaine's blood smells like sagebrush.

Druidic protection circles and the divine light hurt her.

Along with the sun.

Of course, she can walk in the sunlight, but it makes her head hurt.

She is fluent in Abyssal but sort of didn't expect Abyss to answer back.

Blood is like a drug for dhampirs; it makes them strong but erases their humanity. Alethaine constantly fights the temptation to drink it.

Astarion eventually settled at the sea coast, managing his own piracy empire and being this "man in shadows" no one knows, but everyone fears.

He mostly did this to make sure Alethaine knew where to find him if she desperately needed him.

Because his "little princess" definitely would need her dad's help from time to time.

Despite being a High Elf, Alethaine believed she had no soul and would not be able to reincarnate.

To her own surprise, she met her thiramin, elven soulmate, her star-crossed love.

Erlen, the wood elf prince.

Who didn't expect to see the long-desired light in the eyes of gods damn dhampir.

It's a sin to separate thiramins, but his family decided better to do this than allow "foul vampiric blood" to poison their kin.

They put a spell on Erlen and locked him away and also casted a dozen protection spells, preventing Alethaine from rescuing him.

Well, too bad they weren't afraid to piss Alethaine Ancunin.

Because now they pissed her father.

Who is absolutely heartbroken seeing his daughter exhausted and desperate, begging him to save her love

Crying and cursing in his hands.

And Astarion has a pirate fleet who wouldn't mind whooping some elven asses.

Upon rescuing Elren, Astarion is suspicious of this wood elf he had never seen before.

What if he doesn't treat his daughter accordingly?

Only to realize that if Alethaine was his "princess," she would be the queen to her future husband.

"Just don't hesitate to ask me for help. I will gladly kill a couple self-confident elves for you two."

Alethaine called her firstborn daughter Tav.

Of course, it's a baby name and she will change it to a more appropriate one in a century, but for now, there is little Tav growing among the elves.

And Alethaine hopes she will be at least half as good a "monster" parent for her daughter as Astarion was for her.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

M6 after seeing a sad play/reading a sad book?

The Arcana HCs: M6 when MC cries over a sad story

~ I hope you don't mind my take on the prompt, anon, but I couldn't pass up the chance to have the M6 comfort a sad fiction-loving MC. This is for anyone who's read a reversed ending XD enjoy! - brainrot ~

Julian

Initially thrown into a slight panic. You're crying. Are you hurt? Where does it hurt? Tell him, he wants to help fix it!

Once he knows the tears are from emotional pain, his priority is on comforting you. Immediately pulls you into his chest and gives you one of his famous hugs

But also, why are you crying? Is the story really that gut-wrenching?

Morbidly intrigued, because it seems like a strangely cathartic way to wallow in grief and despair that doesn't involve drinking himself under the table, all alone in the corner of the Rowdy Raven while Barth counts his drinks and looks annoyingly concerned for him

Hesitantly asks if he could read it too

Devours the entire thing in one sitting, somehow gets even more invested than you do and turns into a sniffling mess when the angst hits. It hurts so good, and not even in the way he's used to!

Somehow listening to him wax poetic about the tragedy of the characters makes your own pain feel a little sweeter

Now you've got him in your arms while he works out his feelings, and you two are definitely doing this again, this is amazing

Asra

Drops everything as soon as they hear the first sniffles from your direction

He can tell from your bond that you're experiencing some serious grief, and he's so sweetly worried about you that he's not asking any questions, he's just curling up with you and wiping your tears

They do piece it together after a few minutes though - either by noticing the story in your hands or because you straight up told them

So relieved when he finds out it was just a story (he was starting to worry that somebody had died) that he starts to laugh

Which of course lands them in so much hot water, because it's not just a story, those characters were real in your heart and they won't stop giggling while they pet you and seriously Asra, it's not funny while you struggle not to join in

You both know that he hasn't actually done anything wrong, but he still feels bad for laughing so he tries to earn your forgiveness by cheering you up

Dropping little trinkets in your lap, telling you the cheesiest jokes, tickling you with kisses until they see that smile again and all is right with the world

Nadia

Goes straight into problem-solving mode as soon as she sees your tear-streaked face

Something's happened to hurt you. What is it?

Will not take silence for an answer, she'll treat you gently but she won't let up until you tell her why you're crying (even if you feel a little foolish about it - she takes you very seriously)

And it's because she takes you so seriously that she's very torn on how to react when the truth comes out: you read a sad story

It's cuteness overload for her. It doesn't matter how pretty or ugly of a crier you are, the sheer amount of empathy you're displaying right now is going straight to her heart and she is struggling

Will pull you straight into her chest to cuddle you and let you cry it out so you can't see the amused grin on her face

She is biting her lip to keep from fawning over you, because the last thing she wants to do is to make you feel small or foolish but oh my goodness you're adorable like this and it's taking all of her self restraint not to squeeze you to death right now

If there are suddenly more tragedies lying around in the library, no there aren't

Muriel

Very concerned

It doesn't matter to him how big or small the issue is that's causing you so much pain, you're clearly hurting and he's sad to see it

Will approach you very gently and quietly ask if there's anything he can do to help you feel better, or if you just want some space for a while to process whatever it is that's making you cry

Perfectly fine with letting you snuggle up to him. Hey, he has a whole big cloak that makes for excellent tear-wiping material

He's the kind of guy who will sit quietly and give you the most nonjudgmental attention, for as long as you need it to feel seen and heard and validated

Cue you breaking down and giving him the most teary, disjointed version of the story you've read while his big, calloused thumbs brush away whatever's left of your tears

Because there was this character, right? And you really, really liked him, ok? And then this terrible thing happened, and it sounds pretty bad, but when you add the backstory to it it only gets worse -

He's having a little difficulty following you, but he's listening to you and he's holding you and he's definitely hiding that book

Portia

Oh, you found a tear-jerker

She's read a few of those. You should have seen her back when she was practicing her reading while Nadia was in a coma, she had this tragedy phase and went through so many handkerchiefs

Easily the best-prepared for this. She knows how cathartic it is to cry it out, so she sets you up on her sofa with some tea and snacks and a fluffy blanket and the cat until you feel better

Now that you've recovered, and she's buttered you up ...

Tell her which book it was

Because she's read so many at this point, and she's halfway hoping it's one that she knows so she can commiserate with you and gush over the characters

And if it's one that she hasn't read yet, she still wants to know because it's been way too long since she's read something that really tugged at her heart strings and she misses the angst!

Either way, now that she knows you enjoy that she's starting a book club with you

Fictional angst sessions are so much livelier when she's sitting across from you, punching a throw pillow while she rants

Lucio

Upset on your behalf as soon as he sees your state. Why is his MC crying? Nobody makes his MC cry!

He's a little disheartened when you tell him it was just a story you read and the ending was sadder than you expected it to be and now you just need to cry about it a little

Wraps his cloak around you first and then both his arms (he doesn't want the cold metal to shock or pinch you) and asks what happened. What went wrong? Who did this to you, MC? Who does he need to fight?

Takes a moment to offer you a manly shoulder to cry on while he tries to figure out his next move

Can he read? Yes. Does he spend a lot of time reading? Not really. Can he relate to what you're going through right now? Nope

Starts listing off suggestions for how he can make you feel better. Do you want to pet the dogs? Do some magic? Eat some food?

Spots the book you were reading at one point and grabs it right out of your hands. He would shred it if you didn't ask him to be careful with it, so he settles for scolding the inanimate object that made you cry

Very self-satisfied at the giggle that gets out of you

[paperstarwriters]

When Things Go Wrong (Feat. Inanna)

I know the larger trend is to lean comedy, but I couldn't help myself lmao. Also oof, the fic ended up with a lot less focus on things going wrong and a lot more focus on repair. Whoops lmao Pairing: Inanna & Reader (Platonic; familial), Muriel & Reader (Platonic, though could also be viewed as romantic)

Warnings: slight angst, hurt/comfort, Reader deals with feelings of inadequacy, Inanna acts a lot like Muriel.

Summary: Inanna had lost her pack once before, but here, she found a new pack with you and Muriel. It's small, but it's hers, and she will do what she can to protect every member of this little pack. So, when things go wrong, she has to fix it.

Vesuvia Weekly Prompt | Masterlists | The Arcana Masterlist Word Count: 4,085

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"And? When it all goes wrong, what will you do?"

When Inanna was a pup, she would have flashed her teeth in a terrifying snarl, gnash her jaws and howled her answer: "Fight! I would fight, I will fight!" But that is the bark of a child, of a pup, though she knows many grown wolves who would yowl the same sentiment.

Perhaps she shouldn't treat this as if she was somehow wiser. After all, it is wise for a wolf to solve problems with their fellows in a wolfish manner. The predicament occurs when you're dealing with a not-wolf-pack. Two strange magicians with one that too often loves to leave the pack and explore like an overeager puppy, while the other stumbles around occasionally like a newborn. Of course, then there was the snake, mischievous in the same way their wandering puppy magician was, and yet somehow much worse from their small intimidating size, and ability to slip behind and between and into things, without other people knowing. It's terrifying sometimes to see a snake and fear for your life only to realize it's your friend, covered in mud, intent on scaring you to death.

There were others as well, the tall slim bird-man. who sometimes had the face of a bird with cold unblinking eyes which he could somehow remove and leave on a wall, with his own raven friend who freaked out at the slightest inconvenience. There was the soft one, with her tiny little cat, who blinked and "meep!"ed at random intervals and fascinated Inanna to no end, unless she got angry which made her far more terrifying.

There was the wispy one, dressed in spiderwebs with an owl by her side. Inanna liked the owl, for their conversations, but she could never get around the sight of it turning it's head all the way around to stare her down. She's tried it before, it's very very hard to do, and yet the owl can do it without even blinking. Not to mention how irritatingly silent she can be sometimes as she flies around them.

Ah, but in short, they were an eclectic bunch, and though they didn't stay as closely together as a typical pack would, they were close enough, visiting often and being kind to each other. Especially her familiar, and the stumbling magician-ling. Muriel rolled his eyes at the title she gave you. Magician-ling, as if you were a newborn magician. She knew that wasn't true, but she thought it was a fonder title than, the undead. Muriel certainly seemed to prefer it.

Muriel certainly seemed to prefer you.

She remembers the delight in watching the two of you grow close, how you seemed to open the floodgates of connection and re-established his ability to find solace in a pack, to have friends, to have fellows he could rely on. Perhaps not fellow wolves, but someone at least. After he grew close to you, suddenly he was eating with others, suddenly he wasn't so alone anymore. And neither was she. She loves you for that, for giving her a pack to be with again, even if it was more spread out, and even if there were sometimes where they'd end up alone again, it was a little pack she found herself a part of all over again. Her pack. Her home.

And as you spent more and more time sleeping in their den, sharing Muriel's warmth, and cuddling up with her, she found her delight as a member of a pack of three. Muriel was happier with you to, so, so happy as his face grew soft, and his smiles grew wide, and when he did his chores, or wandered through the forest, you would sometimes jump up and delight her in a game, in a chance to chase, and jump and throw and catch, and sometimes, Muriel would join in too, and like a pair of wolves chasing after an agile deer, she would hunt you alongside Muriel peppering your face with kisses instead of bites when they inevitably found and caught you.

It was fun. It was happy. Small as you may be the three of you were a pack, which was why she had to fix this.

She knows why it happened, why you left so suddenly, and she's ashamed to know she had a paw in your sorrow large and clumsy as she was, she had knocked over your inkwell onto your book. You had been working on that so intently, staying up so late... too late in her and Muriel's opinion. It was the source of so many of your disagreements, and when you found it soaked in ink, all you did was cry.

She didn't mean to. She really didn't mean to. Her tail hit the bottle when she saw you finally taking a break and it just spilled all over the pages. And in that moment, you didn't dare to even look at her.

"Don't follow me," you had told Muriel with a frightening look in your eyes. You didn't say the same to her, though Muriel tried to argue for her to follow regardless.

"They don't want to be bothered," he insisted. "I... I think they just need to take a breather."

She could tell, in the way that familiars could, that more than anything, he wanted to defy that request. Instead, with his dexterous hands, he tries to salvage your work, to clean up the mess that she made, that she's helpless to fix, that she would only ever worsen if she even dared lay a paw upon it.

Still, she had to do something.

Muriel doesn't call after her when she slips out the door. The sound of wood creaking open, the sound of it slamming shut after was unmistakable, but he says nothing, despite that deep connection that would have allowed her to hear him despite the distance. He's silent, and though her chest pangs at the thought of leaving him in that state, she knows finding you, and fixing her mistake would surely bring you back, would surely fix his mood. So she tracks you down, the agile deer she's caught many times before, following your familiar scent, the familiar prints you leave in the forest around you, and finds you far far far away, crying, and gasping, panicking in that way she's seen Muriel do so many times before.

And in that way she's done to Muriel so many times before, she curls around you, lets you rest your head against her pelt, and quietly speaks, though she knows you can't hear.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to."

You lean into her touch, sob into her fur, and don't accept her apology, unable to understand a word she speaks. Her distress, is visible, is audible and you try to sniffle and pat her but you're too caught up in your own distress to try and console her. He licks at your tears, wiping them away like she's seen Muriel do with his hands, and you giggle at the feeling. She doesn't intend to make you giggle, but she keeps licking over and over again, if only to hear you laugh instead of cry.

"Inanna!" You bat her away, as gently as you can manage, and it pains her to be unable to tell you the same things Muriel does. You sound so sweet when you laugh, so why must you cry? Why cling to the sorrow she's given you when all she wants is to make you smile?

She wishes you could understand when she says how sorry she is.

Still, she curls around you, tucks her head atop your lap, and tries to keep you warm, to keep you company as you struggle to terms with the mistake she's made in you. At the very least, you sweep the tears from her eyes, and you fix her with a sad and tired look, like a puppy denied her mother. A pup denied her home.

Inanna knows she is giving you the same stare.

"I'm sorry Nana," you mumble perhaps in reply to her own sorrow, and she presses her face further against you, agonized at the idea that she has made you sorry. That you feel the need to apologize at all. Was it not her mistake that made you cry? Was it not her mistake that sent you running?

You lean in, and bask in the feel of her fluffy pelt, rubbing your hands against her fur, in that soothing manner that all you humans so loved to do. She basks in the feeling, the soft and tender feeling, and presses herself further into you, as if it would grant her more. It's greedy perhaps, but it seems to soothe you as much as it does her, as tears slowly dribble, then drip to a halt.

And you look to the forest your soul somewhere far away. And you look the spitting image of Muriel before you came into his life.

And she wonders what happened to you, when you made their life better...had... had they been making your life worse?

She nudges her face into your stomach, hoping and praying that you would get the message. She is curious, she wants to hear your thoughts. She does not want you to be alone in whatever suffering she and Muriel had left you to endure alone.

You look down at her, and as if by some miracle you smile and hear her silent plea.

"Do you ever feel like you're not what you're supposed to be?"

And Inanna curses the fates, the heavens and the moon who guides her. Curses that she was given such a wonderful pack to be a part of an eclectic mix of creatures big and small who all share that connection of affection with each other, who, though not often can sit at the same table and eat their shared catch together, and share whatever meal they've caught in their hunts. She curses that she's been given such a tiny intimate loving pack amidst the larger one, and that she is powerless to protect either when she cannot bear her teeth at the problem.

She wishes, again, begs and pleas to the very moon she just cursed that you could understand her once more.

"I do not understand," she would whisper in sad sorry sound "I am what I am and you are what you are, what is incorrect of our existence?"

And you look down at her, and twist that smile into a pitying thing. With a hand on her jaw you rub at your cheek and chuckle as she allows you this minor cruelty, forcing one eye shut, as she stares with the other.

"You're so tame Inanna, so kind. People say wolves should be fiercer, scarier than this. You seem almost more like a dog sometimes."

It's another cruelty that she must allow. If you could hear her, she would bear her teeth, scold you for thinking such cruel terms, as if others' thoughts could make her any less the wolf she is. But you would not hear her words, and you would not know her anger was not at you. Her jaws remain shut, though she could open them to remind you of her nature. And she leans further into your touch, to inform you of the rest of her.

She can be scarier, she can be fiercer, to her prey and any threat, but only a foolish wolf would bear her fangs at a pack-member in need.

"Inanna, did you know me when I was alive?"

She stares once more, eyes turning up to observe you from where she rests in your lap. She knows you now, and you are alive now. Is that not enough?

Again that sorrow pools in your eyes, sags over your shoulders and brings pains to your fingertips as you clutch at her fur. She wants to whimper to whine in pain but her silence is her gift to you, and an urge to listen to more.

She is here to fix, perhaps this is more than her mistake, but she has caused you pain and she wishes to know how to fix it—if she could fix it. The job seems grander and grander with every word that falls from your lips, every twist of your expression in pain and sorrow, and she is left helpless at her inability to talk to you as she so wishes.

"I knew more magic then, right?"

She tries to nod. It's true, before your death you knew far more than you knew now, but then you had seemed so unhappy as well. Wouldn't you be pleased to let go of such sorrows?

"I wish I still knew all that magic."

It clicks then, and she wants to speak. She begs for the ability to speak.

"Asra mentions it sometimes, how I used to be smarter, stronger, more capable."

"I wish I knew more magic too," she wants to say. "I wish I knew how to tell you that you're enough."

"Does Muriel ever mention it? How it would be nice if he didn't have to cover for my clumsiness all the time?"

"I wish I could tell you how much we love you."

Inanna does what she can. She shakes her head furiously, as she's seen you and Muriel do many times before, and she bears the brunt of dizziness that the movement brings. She wants to tell you that you're wrong, she wants to tell you that you are loved, she wants to tell you that to her, newborn as you are, you are just as powerful as the you of that past, that you had magic that your old self never could have reached. You had the ability to bring people together, to make a pack from a crowd of such different animals.

You had the magic to give her a pack again.

A pack of her, you, and—

"Are you okay?"

Muriel! Inanna leaps up, and she wonders at how she hadn't thought of it before. In a manner reminiscent of the day she first truly got to know you, she rushes behind Muriel, forgoing telling him what he needs to do in favour of telling him all that you were suffering alone. Muriel, she knew was clever. He'd know what to tell you, and he could speak for her too.

And yet when they turn to look at you, when she drags Muriel by his clothes yanked from between her teeth, she catches sight of your eyes growing wide, of your brows drawing down and your own body retreating from the both of them.

"Ah, sorry," Muriel tries to say. "I know you said not to follow you, but Inanna sounded distressed and—"

And you looked at her as if she had betrayed you. Hot tears building up on your face as you look away and try to hide, to hide from the both of them, of course, but to hide from yourself, she thinks as well.

"I'm fine. We're—Inanna and I were fine," you speak, around a mouthful of your own flesh and clothes. She can hear the shudder of your throat the warble in your tone, and she knows it is not merely from her keen ears that the sound carries through.

Muriel fixes her with a look, concern worry and curiosity, but when he whispers to her, in a voice only the two of them can hear, he asks her not to tell him. Not right away at least. She knows. She accepts, she never would have even if he didn't ask.

"Nana... Inanna wasn't fine."

You go still for a moment, back straightening, as if you're about to turn, before you burry your face deeper into your lap an attempt to hide more shame. Still the source of your sorrow, Inanna curls up beside Muriel, intent on doing the same.

"I'm sorry," and you sound so, so small.

Was this what he meant? When Muriel once fussed over his towering size. You sound so small, smaller than a bunny, smaller than a squirrel, you sound as if you could be held between her jaws and locked behind her teeth, and if she held you like she held a pup, she would have to take extra care not to bring you any harm.

It sounded like even before starting, she had already failed.

"It's not you," Muriel clarifies, shuffling close to lean against you. He starts with a hand on your shoulder, gives you ample time to shrug it off before he comes in with the rest of himself, pulling you into his embrace, into his affection and care.

And Inanna watches as you relax, suddenly wishing she was more like you.

She is a member of an eclectic pack of many different animals, but one mostly made of humans. Maybe she could take better care of you all if she traded her fangs for a form like yours. If she traded her fur for your skin.

She curls up beside you, trying to amend her inadequacy, and your hand finds her fur, stroking once more, calming even more.

If she can soothe you like this, then perhaps it isn't so bad.

"Inanna wanted to talk to you, but you can't understand what she says."

You say nothing, but you look away from the both of them, and Inanna understands. You still long for that magic so far out of your reach, you still long for the spells that you once had before your demise. She's sorry that she had stood between you and your goal, sorry that she had ruined your hard work to achieving it.

"She says she's sorry," Muriel says, and you sigh, shoulders sagging, as your hand returns to her fur.

"Its okay Nana, it was an accident I know."

"no, no, not only for that," she whispers.

"Not only for that," Muriel says.

"I'm sorry you think that you are lesser now than you were before"

"She says she's sorry that you think you're lesser now than you were before."

"I'm sorry that you think you are inadequate"

"She's sorry that you think you're inadequate."

"I'm sorry that you think we don't love you so much as you are now."

"She's sorry—" and Muriel falters, words dying on his tongue. "Do... do you not think we love you as you are now? Do you think we'd love the you from before... more?"

"It's not.... I know you didn't even really know me then" you try to argue back, but your voice warbles and cracks and though you try to deny it, it's clear the feeling was there. "But I... I was such a skilled magician before. Asra tries not to mention it but.... but I hear it sometimes. In the way that they speak.... they look so sad, so disappointed, as if they're upset that I'm not like that anymore—and I know that they're probably more upset that I've forgotten them," you're hiccuping now, gasping for air, that your lungs deprive yourself of a self harm that mirrors your words, cruel bitter things, where you pretend as if it's foolish for you not to be so hurt. "It's just that... I... I ... It'd be nicer wouldn't it? If I wasn't so clumsy, and if I knew all those spells. I'm sure I knew a spell to understand familiars once, I could've talked to her—I could have talked to you Inanna. And I just... I thought that maybe if I studied a little more I could do it again. That you know, maybe I could do other things too, and you wouldn't need to help me so often.

"I just feel like there's just so many things I can't do anymore. So many things I don't remember how to do, that would be so, so helpful."

And Muriel speaks exactly what Inanna thinks, without a word of encouragement from her side. "Do you think you aren't really helpful right now? Even if you aren't helpful, it doesn't make you any less...wonderful."

With his dexterous hands, Muriel slips your cheek into his palm, cradling your face, as he shuffles around you to make it easier for you to turn to him, to make it easier for him to wipe away your tears, to make it easier for him to tug you into his chest, let you sob into his shirt as he holds you tight. Inanna nuzzles up beside you, rubs her cheek against your shuddering ribs, and though it's hardly the same as the affection Muriel gives you, she hopes you can feel it too.

"You've done so much for me. For Inanna too. You remember how you told me that my past doesn't define me? The same applies to you, you know. You're amazing now, what does it matter how skilled you were before?"

"I don't know," you sob. "But... gods, it still makes me feel like I've somehow failed. Like I've grown worse over time instead of getting better. I should be getting better, shouldn't I?"

Muriel opens his mouth to say something, but grimaces at the thought. Inanna knows. Inanna knows full well what he's thinking, and she speaks for him, before he chooses silence.

"I... um... oh... Inanna says that.... no pup learns how to walk without stumbling, and.... and that no hunt future hunt will be better if the current one is successful. And.... and she says that even if she fails to catch her food, she is no less a wolf. And... and that applies to the both of us."

Muriel's face turns a little pink at the mention, and you turn to look up at him, your own hand coming up to mirror his own, cradled on his cheek. As you ask with your heart of concern, "You think you're not good enough?"

His brows dip though that pink colour doesn't go away. "I should be saying that to you, you know. You already know so much magic..."

"And you know so much about the forest, about life."

Muriel scoffs, eyes growing dark. "I know a lot about ending it."

"And a lot about healing it. Even without magic, you know how to mend wounds so well."

"And even without as much knowledge as before, you know how to do so much." You scoff at his retort, and Inanna buts her head against you, something Muriel is eager to translate. "Inanna agrees."

You roll your eyes, at their shared agreement, and smile. Muriel smiles in turn seemingly satisfied with this outcome, but Inanna is not convinced.

She speaks through Muriel, wagging her tail as she squirms into the space between the both of you, hoping to curl up around both of you and emphasize her points.

"Nanna!" you yelp

"Pfft." Muriel swats at her tail, likely stuck in his face. She doesn't regret a thing, only that it makes him slower to speak. "Inanna, oof, Nanna says that she loves you by the way."

"Both of you. I love both of you."

Muriel stubbornly refuses to voice the latter part. She swats her tail against his face again. "Hey! Okay, okay, both of us she says."

"You are my pack."

"She says we're her pack," and Muriel further translates. "She says we're her family."

"Inanna..." You open your arms, and let her into her lap, showering her with affection and cuddles, hands scratching and petting and fluffing and rubbing. "I love you too Nanna!"

From the side Muriel watches with a small smile on his lips as Inanna peppers you with slobbery kisses, and before he dares lapse into any feelings of isolation, Inanna twists, intent on pulling him into this pile of affection and play, as for the first time in a long time, she shows her love for her family the way a wolf does best.

So perhaps she cannot fix her pack's problems by bearing her teeth. She can fix them with play and affection with kisses, and with help. She's not alone anymore. And neither are either of you.

[inmymagnetoera]

SO.

I decided to write a little fic for @xaviersjames because like, they comment and reblog on almost all my posts and oh my god?? AND THEY DO SUPPORT MY FICS?? OH MY GOD?? Anyway, I hope you like it! It's not very long and it's not one of my best works but it's something with Flirty!Erik and Frustrated!Charles so it MUST be good.

To all the people, I remind you that I accept requests to write fics!♡

Hope you like this!♡

__________________________

It's a date!

“Just so you know… this is not a date.” Charles said crossing his arms in front of his chest as he watched Erik order a bottle of red wine.

“And why should it be, my friend?” Erik asked giving the blonde waitress a brief smile, Charles snorted as the girl's ears turned red from his friend's action.

“We're here to recruit mutants, Erik. We could park our car outside and wait for the owner to come out. We didn't need to do… this.” He said looking around. it seemed like they had chosen the worst day to do this farce. The place was full of couples holding hands and looking at each other with sweet eyes full of affection.

“Our target has a mutation that allows him to turn everything he touches into wood, if we met him outside and he thought we could hurt him we would be in danger and I don't want to carry your wooden ass around if he did something." He said jokingly placing the napkin on his lap. For a man who had spent much of his life on the run, Erik sure knew how to act like a gentleman.

“Misters, do you want to order?” asked the blonde waitress who was standing a little too close to Erik for Charles' liking.

“Of course, I'll have the steak with vegetables.” Erik said handing the menu to the girl.

“And for your friend?” She asked, looking at Charles with a smile a little less broad than the one she had reserved for the metallokinetic.

“Oh, for me…”

“My boyfriend will get the chicken, thank you so much honey.” He said handing the other menu to the girl as well. The blonde had wide eyes and her mouth slightly open but nodded, hesitantly walking away from the table.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?!” Charles asked him in what was more like a hiss than a human voice.

“Oh c'mon, that was fun.” Erik said smiling with all his teeth. Charles sighed.

“Here is your food.” The blonde waitress hadn't brought their plates, in her place was a little boy with dark, curly hair. Charles felt strangely pleased that the girl had not returned.

“What do you think of the chicken, my love?” Erik asked while the boy was still next to them. Charles choked on his mouthful and drank some wine to recover.

"It's good."

“Stop it now!” He sent him telepathically

“Oh, I was sure of it, on the other hand I know how much you like chicken.” He winked at him and reached out to take Charles' hand in his.

Charles didn't know what to say anymore and continued eating, thinking of a plan to get revenge on Erik.

After dinner and after having tried in vain to convince the owner of the restaurant to join them, the two returned to their car.

“At least the food was good.” Erik said as he got into the driver's seat. Charles nodded and the two headed back towards the villa. The telepath smiled at the thought of what was about to happen.

“Erik, how could you hide this from me?!: Mystique ran down the stairs, practically throwing herself at Erik.

“Tell you… what?” Erik asked more confused than ever.

“You proposed to my brother without telling me, you bastard! You should have asked for my blessing!” Raven slapped his arm and continued to yell at him. Erik looked at Charles with frightened eyes.

“Oh yes, didn't I tell you, love? I may have told my little sister that you proposed to me, and she probably told it to all the other kids, so have fun explaining this to them.” He said walking past the two and heading towards his room.

“Charles, wait!” Erik said as Sean and Alex ran towards him for more information.

“Have fun with our students, dear. On the other hand, you will decide who will bring us the wedding rings on the big day.”

The scream that went up from all the kids, Erik included, and the “I'll do it!” Which mixed together, accompanied Charles' happy thoughts for a long time.