#like once an idea stick… it is STUCK I fear

[athenaluciscaelum]

Maybe a little silly ask but can you do Dante as a dad throughout various installments in the franchise?

Note: Nothing is silly here. You can ask me anything. I can gently deny that's all. But here you go. I have followed games here, the nearest manga or novels are clubbed with games.

Dante as a dad through various installment of the franchise:

Rated: General

Words: 961 words

Warning: Mention of Pregnancy

Disclaimer:

Feel free to leave comments, but remember to be nice and civil.

LETS ROCK!!!

Okay, so let me lay down few assumption I am working under. The child is product of love, it maybe an accident but it is with someone Dante cares and loves. And is willing so stick around even if it scares him. Dante will never abandon his child. He is not that person. If you think he is. Get out! We are doing that here. We are going from the youngest to the eldest. We are following chronology here:

Devil May Cry 3 Dante

I am clubbing here manga and video, so Dante is around 18-19. This means he will be having child at same time as Vergil. The only difference is that he is aware and most probably an accident, raging teenage hormones kr something. It frightened him when he got to know he is going to be a father. He feared if he will ever be a good father but he was there for his partner throughout the pregnancy. As the child came in the world, he was lot more easy going, casual and doing all sort of prank on the baby or with the baby. His fear will be lost and he will be focusing on providing for his child. Him and his partner will be lost most of the time, so confused like why baby is crying, why baby is sleeping so much, why baby is blinking, is it normal? Everything will be a rollercoaster ride. It will be a wild ride.

Devil May Cry 1 and Anime Dante

Well...Dante here is depressed, especially after the events of Mallet Island, in his mind, he killed his own brother twice. He will distant himself from the child or the partner who is pregnant out of fear of harmind either of them. He will leave most of parenting to his partner out of fear. He is dangerous and not to be trusted. He will be taking care of all financial needs, making sure they are protected with no demon around but maintaining an emotional distance from his child, not ignoring them. His mind swirling with idea that one day his child will know he killed his own brother. His child loves him equally, but will they love him the same once they know he committed a fractricide? It will be only his child insistence and eventually crying for his comfort that Dante will snap out of it to understand that he is doing more damage than good. He will be quick to hug his child tight and promise them that it is going to be okay. He will happily tell them the story of Vergil from their childhood and tuck them in bed to go to his partner and confine in them.

Devil May Cry 2 Dante

Dante is still very depressed here. Thevsame where it was left off, he is trying to smile more in front of his kid. But when on mission or alone. The mask falls off. He will kiss and hug his child tightly before going to Vie de Marli. He won't be back for long since he got stuck in hell. Every minute he will be fighting to get back to the human world. He has a duty to protect his child and partner. When he will be back, fortunately his partner took care of understanding their child well to why Daddy was away. Dante will be apologizing to both his child and partner. He will break emotionally when his child will say, "it's okay, dad, I know you are just keeping the world and us safe. You are my Hero!" This is the point where he never knew he wanted to be, but it's all he needs. He was a good father, he was doing good, despite his better judgement and fear.

Devil May Cry 4 Dante

The most fun dad, he will be cracking and preparing all the Dad jokes. He will be hands on with his kids. He will be there to change their diaper, out them to sleep. He will keep an eye on them as they are sleeping safe and sounds. He will be taking picture of every moment. He will bore Lady and Trish with cute things his child did. He will be picking out their outfits, doing their hair. He will have dedicated tine for his child alone. To train them and teach them all necessary things about who they are as they grow. He doesn't want his child to be as confused as he was. He will be over protective, not in a bad way.

He knows all lullaby, nursery rhymes and signs disney songs with his child in the car. He will certainly take them for a ride to Fortuna to meet their cousin.

Devil May Cry 5 Dante

He is very similar to DMC4 Dante, but mature. He will be no less goofy, but a lot more understanding of his partner and child needs, it is something beyond fun. It is about deeper connection and values he wants to teach his child. He wants them to know the love and acceptance, he got from Eva. He will be more forgiving to himself and it will help him be a better father. I think he will be father like Kartos is to Atreus. It is about loving and accepting your child, trusting them to become what they want to become. He will be coming in terms with the fact that they might not be like him or his partner and its okay. As long as they are safe and happy. He will be always there in shadows protecting them from afar.

He will be smoothering his child in love when they are small no doubt!

Tagged: @violet-2084-turkish-warrior

[neurotica-tales]

What He Never Saw (Yandere Hiccup x Reader) [Part 1]

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

You met Hiccup when he was still just a gangly boy with too-big eyes and too many dreams. Through fish stew accidents, quiet hours in the forge, and unspoken glances across crowded halls, your friendship grew into something deeper—something sacred.

But then came Toothless. Then came Astrid. Then came glory, and with it… distance.

Now, as the boy you loved rises into legend, you're left behind in silence, watching from the shadows while someone else takes your place beside him. You never told him how you felt. You thought you had time.

But Hiccup never noticed when you started fading—until you were already gone.

And now, he will.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

For Part 2, click HERE.

For Part 3, click HERE!

Up Next:

A Visit to Berk (Yandere Hiccup x Berserker!Reader x Yandere Toothless)

Forged in Obsession (Yandere Hiccup x Reader) [Part 1]

Marked By the Chief (Yandere Hiccup x Reader) [Part 2]

To find my main masterlist, click HERE.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

You met Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III when you were both barely tall enough to peek over the table in the Great Hall.

He was smaller than most boys your age, gangly and awkward, with a mop of brown hair that stuck out in strange directions and a voice that cracked when he got nervous. You’d only been on Berk for a few weeks—your family had moved from a storm-battered fishing village on the edge of the archipelago, where dragons were feared, not trained. Berk was strange, colder, louder. Everything about it felt like it was meant for people who were bolder than you. Sharper.

You were still adjusting, still unsure of where you belonged. You tried to make yourself small, invisible. Speak when spoken to. Keep your head down and your expectations lower.

And then Hiccup spilled fish stew in your lap.

It happened in front of the forge, one gusty afternoon. You were sitting on the steps, alone, nursing a bruised wrist from an unfortunate run-in with a stubborn market cart. You were minding your own business when a blur of frantic motion collided with the corner of your bench—and an entire bowl of steaming stew sloshed into your lap.

You gasped at the sudden heat. The shock. The absolute fishiness of it all.

“Oh no—oh no, I’m—I’m so sorry!” Hiccup squeaked. His arms flailed like he was trying to reverse time. “I didn’t mean to throw soup on you, I swear—I tripped, and then the wind—and the bowl just kind of… launched itself?”

You blinked at him, your lap now soaked in fish and carrots, and let out a stunned laugh.

“It’s fine. Really. Just a typical Tuesday, right?”

He stared at you like he’d never heard someone joke about soup before.

“I’ll get a cloth. Or a new tunic. Or move to another island in shame. That’s an option, right?”

That made you laugh again—so hard that you snorted, which made him laugh too. It was the kind of ridiculous moment that could only end in friendship.

From that day on, he followed you around. Or maybe you followed him. You were never quite sure. But a rhythm started to form—a sense that your days were somehow incomplete without each other.

You began to crave his voice like a campfire in winter. Even his chaos had a strange comfort to it, like the world wouldn’t be quite right if he wasn’t tripping over something at least once a day.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Being Hiccup’s friend meant accepting chaos as a constant. And not just the "oops, I set fire to Gobber’s beard again" kind of chaos, but the kind that came from constantly questioning how the world worked and refusing to believe it had to stay that way.

He was always building things, tinkering with things, muttering under his breath about gear ratios and counterweights and propulsion theory that made no sense to anyone but him. He wasn’t like the other Viking boys. Where they were brawn, he was all nervous energy and intellect, constantly sketching ideas in the dirt with a stick or staring at catapults during practice, lost in thought.

The village barely tolerated him. They rolled their eyes, scoffed at his inventions, and made snide comments about how Chief Stoick’s son couldn’t even hold an axe properly. He was the punchline to jokes he never got to laugh at.

But you—you found him fascinating.

He was funny in a way that caught you off guard. Not loud or brash, but sharp-witted. Clever. He spoke softly, but when he got excited about something, his hands would fly around, and his voice would rise, and you could practically see his thoughts spilling out faster than he could shape them.

At first, you just liked being around him. He never made you feel like you had to prove yourself. He accepted you exactly as you were, no matter how odd, quiet, or clumsy you felt. You'd sit on opposite ends of a workshop table, him sketching plans and mumbling calculations while you quietly sorted nails or sanded boards. There was no pressure to perform, only a kind of unspoken understanding that in each other’s company, you didn’t have to be anything except yourselves.

And slowly, somewhere between bruised shins, botched inventions, and shared grins across the training yard, fascination turned into something else.

You began noticing things you hadn’t before. The way he bit his lower lip when he was thinking. The way he always seemed surprised when someone said his name kindly. The way he looked at the sky, like he wanted to be part of it.

You started lingering after you'd finished helping him. You made excuses to pass by the forge even when you didn't need to. You stayed quiet when he talked, just so you could watch him move his hands.

And then you started dreaming about him.

It was never anything grand. Just the two of you, laughing in the meadows, sitting on rooftops at night, lying beside a dragon’s warm side, whispering about things that only mattered to you.

It wasn’t until one day, when he looked up and said your name like it meant something, that you realized the truth.

You were in love with him.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

But then came Astrid.

And at first, she didn’t care about Hiccup. Not even a little.

You remember how she used to roll her eyes when he spoke, how she sighed whenever he fumbled a weapon in training. She mocked his inventions, openly scoffed when he tried to explain his ideas. The others laughed along with her. Hiccup tried not to let it show, but you always saw the way his shoulders tensed when she dismissed him.

It was you who defended him. You who listened. You who stood beside him even when the world laughed. You who held the pieces when he fell apart.

For years, that never changed. You were there for every failure, every wince of embarrassment. You were the one picking up the pieces he didn’t show anyone else.

And then, everything changed.

He found Toothless.

You didn’t know. Not for days. Not until everything exploded into fire and ash and glory.

That morning, you were pacing nervously in the training ring. The final trial was about to begin—the one every trainee feared. The monstrous nightmare. It had been looming over the entire academy for weeks. Everyone knew what it meant.

You looked for Hiccup. He wasn’t there.

It wasn’t surprising. He had been slipping away for weeks—disappearing for hours, skipping drills, returning with a strange gleam in his eyes and no explanation. You had asked him more than once what he was doing. He always brushed you off.

“Just working on something,” he’d muttered. “You’ll see.”

But you hadn’t seen. You weren’t part of it. And that should have told you everything.

The arena was packed by the time Stoick began the trial. You stood near the edge of the crowd, heart pounding, watching the gate creak open. The monstrous nightmare prowled forward, snarling, its scales flickering with pre-ignition heat.

And then Hiccup stepped into the ring.

He threw away his weapons and even his viking helmet.

You remember the gasps. The way Stoick barked at him to pick up a blade. The way Astrid reached forward like she might stop him. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Because there was something different in Hiccup’s eyes.

Not fear. Not pride.

Conviction.

And then the dragon lunged—and the sky cracked.

A black shape tore through the clouds, wings wide, eyes narrowed. It slammed into the monstrous nightmare with a roar, sending fire and debris flying. People screamed. Chaos erupted.

And when the dust settled—

Hiccup stood there, unharmed.

Beside him was a Night Fury.

Toothless.

He placed a hand on the dragon’s head like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like this hadn’t been the greatest secret of his life.

And you stood there frozen, breath caught in your chest, as he turned to the crowd and began to speak.

That was how you found out.

Not in a quiet moment. Not with the trust you thought you’d earned.

But with the rest of the village. As just another face in the crowd.

That night, everything changed again.

The Red Death attacked.

One moment the village was still reeling from the shock of the arena; the next, you were surrounded by fire, wings, and terror. Dragons poured through the skies, frenzied, afraid. Screams echoed across the cliffs as fire rained from above. You grabbed a bucket, a weapon, anything—and then you saw it.

The massive shape of the Red Death rising above the sea mist just across the horizon where all able-bodied Berk warriors went to destroy the Dragon's Nest once and for all. The Red Death was massive, bigger than any dragon you’d ever imagined, eyes like molten stone.

Everything should’ve ended right then.

But it didn’t.

Because Hiccup left to go after the Red Death.

And he wasn’t alone.

Astrid. Fishlegs. Snotlout. The twins. All of them on dragons, soaring into battle with Hiccup leading the charge. A plan—his plan—unfolded right before your eyes. You watched in numb awe as he coordinated the skies, dodging death, luring the Red Death higher and higher, risking everything.

You barely breathed.

And then you saw it.

The explosion. The collapsing wing. The fire.

You saw Toothless dive after him. Saw them disappear into the smoke and vanish behind a wall of flame.

Your knees gave out.

For hours, no one in the village knew what was going on. 

But then everyone came back. Injured but still alive. And in Stoick's arms was Hiccup.

Unconscious.

His leg—gone. Burned. Bloodied.

But alive.

He didn’t wake for days.

You visited the hut where Gobber and the healers kept him. You never went inside. Just stood by the door, heart aching, while Astrid paced inside like she belonged there.

When he finally stirred, they said his first words were about Toothless.

And from that day forward, Toothless was always there.

At his side. At the forge. At the docks. Watching you with bright, unreadable eyes.

The boy who once only had you—had the world now. A dragon. A partner. A destiny.

And you?

You had silence.

And an ache that never truly went away.

Gasps echoed through the village as a black blur swooped over the cliffs, fast and sleek, casting a shadow over the rooftops. A Night Fury.

And riding it—was Hiccup.

He landed like he was born for it. The reins were taut in his hands. The dragon was calm. Tamed. And for the first time in your life, you heard the entire village fall silent when Hiccup opened his mouth.

Suddenly, everything he said mattered.

The boy who was once a punchline had become the village’s pride. They listened now—Stoick, Gobber, even Astrid. Everyone who once rolled their eyes was hanging on his every word.

And Astrid—

She started looking at him. Really looking.

She lingered during flight drills. Asked questions. Stood closer than she used to. Laughed at things he said that weren’t even funny.

You wanted to believe it was innocent.

But the way she touched his arm, the way she smirked when he blushed—you knew.

You felt it. A cold pit in your stomach.

And worst of all?

He didn’t tell you.

He told everyone else about Toothless before you. He showed Gobber. He took Astrid on a ride. He shared his triumph with the same people who used to mock him.

And you—

You stood there, clapping, smiling with the crowd. Pretending your heart wasn’t breaking.

Because you’d always thought—

No. Known.

That when something important happened, you would be the first to know.

But you weren’t.

You were an afterthought.

You told yourself it was fine. That maybe he just got caught up in it all. That he’d pull you aside later, explain everything, laugh sheepishly and say of course he meant to include you.

But the moment never came.

Instead, you watched him rise.

Astrid started flying with him more. You saw them practicing together. You saw her ruffle his hair once, and he didn’t even flinch. He smiled.

You saw her take his hand.

And you felt something inside you crack.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

You tried to be happy for him.

You really, really did.

You told yourself it was fine. That you never told him how you felt, so this wasn’t a betrayal. That she was strong, and beautiful, and worthy of love.

But when you saw them walking hand-in-hand by the cliffs—his eyes on her like she was the only star in the sky—your chest caved in.

And that night, you dreamed she fell.

Off Stormfly. Off a cliff. Into the sea. You dreamed of Hiccup’s screams, his grief. And of you, standing there with open arms.

And you hated yourself for it.

You weren’t cruel. You weren’t that kind of person.

But the thoughts kept coming.

And so did the pain.

So you did the only thing you could.

You left.

Quietly.

No scenes. No accusations.

You simply stopped showing up.

You stopped going to the forge. Stopped passing by the training field. You skipped the village dinners where he used to sit beside you.

You threw yourself into your work with Gothi. You weren’t a warrior—you’d never had a dragon of your own. While the others trained to wield axes and fly into battle, you learned medicine and bone-setting, the language of fevers and pain. You’d always felt a bit removed from the chaos of the training ring, preferring the quiet logic of healing.

Still, you had been there—on the sidelines of the arena, tending scrapes and sprains, handing off clean cloths and cold compresses. You had always been close enough to cheer for him, to catch his smile in the quiet afterward.

But now, even that felt distant.

You kept to the healer’s hut. You made yourself useful in the only way you could—checking bandages, grinding herbs, whispering to elders who feared their lungs wouldn’t last another winter. You did not belong to the world of dragons, and Hiccup… Hiccup had become its center. You chose silence. Distance.

And for a while, he didn’t notice.

Not really.

Astrid had his attention. His time. His joy.

And you? You became something like a shadow.

A name on the wind.

You told yourself this was what you wanted. That it would get easier.

But it didn’t.

Because every time you saw him laugh with her, every time you heard her voice drift from the forge, a little more of your heart crumbled.

And the worst part wasn’t even the love.

It was the grief.

You hadn’t just lost a dream.

You lost your best friend and your first love.

And he hadn’t even noticed.

But he would.

He would.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Tags: @itsshazaa

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

[summerchlds]

I KNOW YOU

Neil Perry x gn! reader

Synopsis: In which you and Neil end up in a vintage photobooth.

An: Hello!! This is my first post on this account so I apologize if this sounds like shit😭 Also!! English is not my first language and I’ve never stepped foot into a Photo Booth so if I wrote something wrong then that’s on me🫡🫡

💌

When you two entered through the curtain and into the booth, You found it to be particularly small, barely big enough for the two of you to fit inside. It was kind of dark, the walls were maroon colored and the only thing there was in there was a built-in camera in the wall and a bench to sit down on so it was kind of empty (besides the scribbles and notes people had written down on the walls that the owners were too lazy to remove). You’ve both never seen or been in a Photo Booth before, not having a single clue on how it exactly worked, fearing that you’d accidentally break something.

“It’s quite cramped in here, isn’t it?” He teased softly, being fully aware of the amount of space you two had. You nodded, breathing out a faint ‘yeah’ under your breath. You tried to make yourself sit comfortably, but it was kind of hard when the side of your body was stuck glued beside his as your other half was against the wall.

Neil leaned down slightly.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked softly, his voice husky as he looked you up and down with a small smile. You once again nodded, not wanting to burden him. It was fine. Afterall, you couldn’t do anything about it. Neil turned his head back to the camera, looking clueless.

“Does it even work?” Neil asked as his brows furrowed.

“I hope so.” You responded, feeling hopeful. There was a button sticking out underneath the camera lens.

“I think this button starts the camera and countdown.” He said, unsure.

Neil reached slightly up to press it, unsure if it was the right thing to do. Thankfully, the lightbulb that hung above us, slowly lit up, triggering the timer countdown for the first picture. As the countdown went, You both realized that you had to act fast if you wanted the pictures to turn out good. You had no idea how many seconds you were given, could’ve been ten seconds or thirty if this machine was nice enough.

“What should we do?” You asked, a little panicky.

“Just smile!” He said quickly, leaning back a little against the wall. You took this opportunity to lean a little closer to the camera as you smiled nervously. You didn’t have that many high hopes for the first picture, just wanting the first picture to show you two smiling as a start. You posed awkwardly for a few seconds before the camera’s flash unexpectedly came on.

The bright flash blinded both of you, causing Neil and you to let out a small groan of discomfort as you both rubbed your eyes. Neil leaned back up beside you as he tried to blink away the spots in his vision, adjusting to the sudden change of light.

Now it was time to think of a new pose to do. Without thinking, you shifted yourself to lean your head towards him as you, again, smiled at the camera. You weren’t expecting for him to do the same though, but he did. Your heads linked together as you both smiled sweetly and the camera clicked once again.

You two pulled apart, feeling the warmthness of his cheek leave yours as you tried to figure out what pose you were going to do next. Neil seemed to have no problem with this whole thing, just freestyling everything. Maybe it was because you knew he would look good in any pose he chose to do.

You suggested to him that you two could make funny faces, just to humorize the photos. He didn’t say anything, let alone move as you got into your position, scrunching up your nose as you smiled mischievously. You awkwardly waited for the photo to be taken as you watched Neil from your peripheral vision. He turned his head towards you and just stayed there, watching you. His gaze seemed to burn a path through you.

You wanted to turn your head to face him but you’d have to wait until the picture would get taken.

When the flash finally covered the whole booth for just a split second before disappearing again, the light above you dimmed, signaling for you two to exit the booth, but you didn't, you stayed there as if you were expecting something more to happen. You turned your head immediately to see what was the problem. You were planning to ask him ‘why didn’t you pose?’ or ‘is there something on my face?’ but when you turned to him, you realized how close your faces were. And suddenly, your mind became blank. He stared down at you with a feeling of undeniable adoration in his brown eyes as he watched you almost hungrily. There was a tender, fond adoration flickering in his eyes, the way it often did in private moments like this. The warmth and affection in his expression made you feel vulnerable and cherized at the same time. His eyes seemed to take in every little detail, capturing it and piercing it into his mind, afraid to lose the memory of how you looked like, in case you two would in the future pull apart and never see each other again. His expression was soft and full of warmth, as if he found every little thing about you utterly mesmerizing.

“What?” You muttered quietly, already feeling yourself getting lost in his eyes. Oh how you could stare into them for hours on end.

“What?” Neil asked in return, his voice low and warm, tinged with a hint of amusement. In the midst of darkness, you could see a speck of light reflecting on his eyes from outside the curtain where the streetlight resided. You felt his breath from his open mouth hit your face as it made you realize how close your faces have gotten.

“May I kiss you?” He softly whispered against your lips, glancing down at them for a split second before returning his gaze up at you.

You opened your mouth, again and again to try and get something out but your voice had given up on you so you just nodded eagerly instead. He leaned down and closed his eyes, pressing his lips gently against yours. His hand travelled to your face, placing it on the back of your head to deepen the kiss. You reciprocated and held his cheek, your thumb grazing his sharp cheekbone. The kiss was short but sweet, only lasting a couple of seconds before he pulled away, exhaling ever so slightly as he looked breathlessly at you. You couldn’t help but let out a cheeky grin that spread over your red face, which caused Neil to laugh at you.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

You walked out of the booth as you watched Neil pick up the pictures that were printed out and examined them. He had a cheeky smile on his face as he looked down on them, making you curious.

“Let me see.” You said and he handed you the strip. Without saying anything, you took it from him and looked at it closely. There were four black & white photos of you two stacked on top of each other, doing various poses for each one. The first photo though, caught your eye. It looked fine at first, you saw yourself smiling and narrowed your eyes to Neil.

His mouth was pulled into a wide smile which showed off his gleaming teeth and dimples. He looked adorable. Though unbeknownst to you, you saw his hand positioned behind your head, creating a bunny ears gesture, making you look like a fool.

When you realized this, you playfully hit his arm as a form of payback. He pulled up his hand to caress the spot where you hit him at, pretending to look hurt as he couldn’t help holding in his laugh.

“I just couldn’t help myself, I had to!” He said between laughs.

You didn’t want to give in but eventually did, giggling along with him.

Besides, you knew you were going to keep these photos in your dorm as a memory, even if they didn’t turn out perfect, they were special.

(After all, no one but you and Neil would fully know what happened after the fourth photo was taken.)

[multiversalburnoutclub]

𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘗𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘢

warnings?: just some fluff.

Klaus Mikaelson was not known for his softness.

He was known for daggers. For vengeance. For centuries of blood-soaked stories whispered about in corners of dark rooms.

But now?

He was best known — at least in certain circles — as the man walking around the French Quarter with a tiny toddler on his hip, a tiny sparkly purse over his shoulder (her idea), and glitter stuck in his curls.

She was three.

Big eyes. Ridiculous lashes. A pout that could crumble kingdoms. And she looked like a storybook character — the kind with a crown and a dragon and a happily ever after.

She spent more time at Klaus’s house than her dad’s. Not that Marcel minded. In fact, he swore she preferred him. Something about the art supplies. Or the endless snacks. Or the fact that Klaus once ripped a vampire’s arm clean off because he swore too loudly near her.

And she adored him.

Called him Poppa, in a wobbly little voice that destroyed him every single time.

Not grandpa. Not Nik. Not Klaus.

Poppa.

He never corrected her.

He just knelt every time, arms open, voice impossibly soft. “There’s my girl.”

She rode on his shoulders through the Quarter like she owned it. They had a standing date every Saturday for ice cream. One time the parlor was closed and Klaus nearly bought the entire building just to open it back up.

He bragged about her constantly.

To strangers.

To enemies.

To people he was about to kill.

“She painted this,” he’d say, holding up a glitter-drenched, questionably-shaped elephant. “Look at the detail. Brilliant, isn’t she? Only three.”

Or worse:

“She told me she wants to be a princess and a doctor. That’s ambition.”

Or the time he looked Elijah dead in the eye and said, completely serious, “She’s smarter than you were at her age.”

But nothing destroyed him more than the hair.

One morning, she padded into his room, dragging her little brush behind her, curls sticking up in every direction.

“Mommy said you can try today,” she said, yawning.

Klaus sat up like he’d been handed the Holy Grail.

He’d practiced.

He watched tutorials on his phone. Took notes. Asked her mom twice about leave-in conditioner.

And when he finally got that braid right — smooth, not too tight, tied with a purple ribbon she picked out herself — she looked in the mirror, clapped her little hands, and grinned at him like he’d just handed her the moon.

“I love it, Poppa.”

Klaus Mikaelson, feared hybrid, actual monster, nearly burst into tears.

He cleared his throat. “Well. Of course you do. I’m excellent at this.”

She made him do it again the next day.

And the next.

He would kill for her. He would burn down cities. But more than anything, he would live for her.

Because in a life full of chaos, she was his peace. His purpose.

And when she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck and whispered, “I love you, Poppa,” against his cheek, all the centuries behind him faded.

He loved her back so loudly it echoed.

And always would.

[vampstarkey]

◟sex with a gun 

Masterlist 🪽

☆ warnings: gun play, neck tightness, daddy's kink, reader seems innocent but isn't, female masturbation, crying during sex, slaps on the thigh, thumb in the mouth, squirting, degradation, Rafe causes pain to the reader, mentions of somnophilia, Rafe calling the reader a "bunny" (I think that's all. I want to make it clear that it's all consensual, be warned)

☆ Note: honestly I was a little thoughtful before posting this fanfic theme, but I confess that I liked it, I ended up changing my writing style too, I hope you like it, bye.

You never thought Rafe would be able to use a gun on you, absolutely not, that idea was crazy and at no point had it crossed your mind to let him stick a gun inside your pussy, but you reconsidered that idea a little when he asked you for it, it was typical of Rafe to want things like that and you knew he would go crazy just to see you handed over to him as soon as you decided to accept, of course your boyfriend wouldn't force you to do anything that made you uncomfortable, but he kept insisting because he knew you well enough to know that deep down that idea made your panties soaked.

All you could think was that it was out of the question, after all they had never done anything like that before, a fear took over your thoughts, but it still seemed tempting, the danger was exciting, how could you simply say no to Rafe when he was right there with those eyes almost begging for a yes as an answer? You looked at the metallic gun on the table in the corner of the room while you closed your legs tightly. He found this situation funny and at the same time you could feel how his cock throbbed in your beach shorts just imagining bursting the walls of your tight pussy with the object in his hands.

— ☆ . .

Your body weight was completely thrown on the bed and your legs spread for the blonde. He stuck the gun in your wet pussy while he watched the scene of you writhing like a whore. Rafe stuck it so deep that you could feel the cold object touching your cervix. “Look how easily this goes inside you.” The contact of the gun with your pleasure point made a delicious wet noise to his ears. You gripped the white sheets tightly as you moaned in a daze. “Ray.. Please”

He smiled victoriously when he heard the desperation in your voice, with that scene before him, Rafe couldn’t control himself and squeezed his own cock over his shorts while his other hand quickly moved the metal object into your unit. “Is that what you want, huh? Ask daddy one more time like the good slut you are” The boy could feel himself sliding deeper and deeper into you.

“Yeaah, just like that, please don’t stop.” You said between moans that became louder and louder. You tried to keep your legs open for him, but you failed on impulse. Rafe was strong enough to grab your thighs, preventing you from closing them for him. “This is what you need. I make you feel so good, bunny.” Tears streamed down your face as you whimpered, feeling the sensation invade your insides. “My naughty girl is so needy. I’m going to need to make you cum really good.” The way he spoke and looked at you made you a little embarrassed, and honestly, he found it sweet and adorable in you.

Your pussy was dripping, smearing almost every weapon that came out and entered with agile movements inside. Without a doubt, Rafe would want to see you in this state once more, hundreds of times if possible. “Pretty girl.” Rafe brought his hands up to your neck, squeezing it tightly, still thrusting the object with greater force now. He could feel how hot your body was, reacting to everything he did. The excitement only increased as your boyfriend pounded deep, your eyes were crying as if they were begging for more.

“Crying like a little bitch, daddy is going to have to hurt you and I know you like it.” Rafe continued to choke you with skill, fascinated by every expression you made. In his eyes, you looked delicious like that. It was a perdition to see you with your mouth open, moaning and writhing like that without panties, just with a pair of white socks that went up to your knees.

You felt a present discomfort and it hurt a little the way he pushed the gun inside you, but as painful as it was, you were enjoying the pain and pleasure that mixed together. Your own fingers quickly ran to your clitoris, massaging it a little clumsily. “Does it hurt, bunny?” Rafe stared at your pussy as he bit his lip. “Yes, it hurts, daddy.” Your head bobbed in agreement, your legs began to shake too much, Rafe knew how close you were to cumming right now and he fucking loved it.

You were a seemingly shy and innocent girl to other people, but Rafe knew how naughty you became for him when he made you horny. It wasn't very difficult to turn you on. The living proof of this was the way you were, so wet, so surrendered, he was on the verge of collapse. "This pussy is mine, bunny." A hoarse growl left Rafe's lips. He had come in his own shorts just by seeing you contracting and pulsing against his gun.

Rafe's hand left your neck, then he brought his thumb into your mouth, making you suck it. The blond's thumb muffled your moans. You stared at him sucking on your finger while your cheeks flushed with lust and a slight shyness. Your own fingers stopped moving against your clit, grabbing Rafe's wrist with the hand he had stuck his thumb in your lips.

“Next time I want you to let me wake you up by fucking you right here.” Your moans were getting louder and louder in the room. Rafe turned the gun inside you, causing spasms and goosebumps to appear on your skin. “Ray..” Your eyes rolled back, you felt like you were going to explode, your liquid dripped down the metal of the gun and into Rafe’s hand. “What a hot pussy, you dirty bitch, I’m going to finish you off.”

Rafe took his thumb out of your mouth and slapped your inner thigh hard, squeezing and playing with the soft area. “But that’s not a problem for you, is it? After all, you like being treated like a dirty bitch.” Rafe couldn’t help but laugh at that naughty expression he had and that you knew very well.

“I like it, I like it a lot.” The slap made you jump slightly from the bed, the voice that came out of your lips was slurred, almost as if you were struggling to speak in the midst of that delicious situation. “Then cum, bunny, cum now..” Rafe said in a tone of authority that made you shiver, he was now going faster than usual, you were wetting his hand without any difficulty, you were almost there..

Your legs opened even more and to help you reach orgasm, Rafe massaged your clitoris quickly. He rubbed it with desire, you brought your hand to your mouth to muffle your moans, but he quickly removed it. “No, no, no, I want to hear you scream.” Your hips began to move desperately against the metal object inside your pussy.

Rafe finally felt your orgasm coming, quickly wetting everything. “Fuck, Rafe.” you screamed his name as you squirted, wetting the bed along with the gun that was still inside you. “Yeah, very good, girl.” The blond slowly removed the object from inside you, throwing it on the small table in the room as he approached your side, seeing you completely exhausted.

Drops of sweat ran down your forehead and he wiped them away, then tucked your hair behind your ear. “Are you very tired?” His hands caressed your head. “Yes, quite.” Seeing your state, Rafe pulled you by the waist and made you sit on his lap. “Tired enough that you can’t help me by getting on your knees for me?” You quickly understood what he meant by that. No matter how tired you were, you would help him relieve himself anyway, so there you were on your knees, waiting to suck your man’s cock while he stood in front of you.

[munipe]

Slides into ur dms heyyy,,, so i heard u need saiki angst ideas,,, i used to be into saiki k back in the pandemic, and Ive always had this idea in my head: What if Saiki had a crush on a reader who was doomed to die first in the volcano explosion? Obv, the volcano destroys japan, but reader (thru unforetunate events) is always the first one to die bcs of it. I like to imagine near the explosion date, Aira sees the Mark of Death on Reader and tells Saiki abt it, and Saiki just goes "🙁🙁 i know" WHSHSHAHSH

:3333333

The idea of the reader inevitable death bc she’s slightly immune to his psychic powers always stuck with me. This one is fem, also trying some new stylistic things, btw.

YOU WEREN’T A NUISANCE, like everyone else. If Saiki had to say what kind of person you were, he’d recall the time during your first year of PK academy with him. He’d say that you were his advocate for silence. You’d stick around, and buy him coffee jelly if he was irritated. He would say you were the type of girl who would always offer something if a girl needed a hair tie or some vaseline. He would say you always gave pets to stray cats, and would make impromptu convenience store visits to buy a little can of pate for them.

That’s the kind of girl you were. He never let himself get too close, though.

He knew, on April ninth, what news would arise. He could already see it on Mikoto’s face when she stares at him guiltily for the whole debriefing between her, Saiki, and Toritsuka. Once the purple haired boy had fell asleep, she fidgeted until she felt a pool in her gut—fear.

“Th—That girl you talk to—she has the mark of death.” She spluttered. Between the trio, Toritsuka and Mikoto had a nagging feeling he felt for you more than he let on. He made them work for themselves, but you? Suddenly they had to go get him stuff so he could hand it to you. She was worried for him—rightfully. She stared at him expectantly, waiting for s hint of grief or sorrow. All she saw, was disappointment.

So you didn’t live this time loop too, huh? Did he have to run it again? Did he have to try harder? Yet, as he looked down at Toritsuka, knocked out and slumped over, he realized that it could be you like that. except without breathing and snoring.

“I know.” It was neither his typical irritated answers. Nor was it short or curt. It was soft, accepting and denying as well. It was paradoxical. He could change the course—he’s prevented it with Chiyo for christ’s sake, but you always died, somehow. So why couldn’t you live?

It was radio silence. He’d have to try again tomorrow.

***

WHICH WENT TO SHIT, IMMEDIATELY.

No matter what he did, he couldn’t save you. Toritsuka kept all of you in a crowd, but you died by each unfortunate event. A piece of a building crushing you from the earthquake caused by the suppressed rumbling. An eruption below you. Trampling. Run over by the panic. A falling street light. Debris and mob mentality always got to you before he did. Would he have to send a clone? That was too unsafe. Why couldn’t he just…put you in bubble wrap and keep you safe? Why couldn’t he go back in time and never meet you at all? Would that stop you from attending this trip? Hell, that wouldn’t be good for his mental. How could he stop it?

It was frustrating, for your life to be dangled like candy. How many more times would he have to loop the year? He didn’t know, but he was willing to try until he was sure you’d make it

[ashwhowrites]

I’ve had this idea for a while. Feel free to ignore if it’s not your thing.

Enemies to lovers maybe “bully”? cheerleader ?reader. And Eddie

They have some kind of arrangement or enemies with benefits and she ends up pregnant while still in high school. They decide to work together but still are “enemies” slowly falling in love during the pregnancy? And when the baby is born and are co -parenting it’s hard with a new born , so she calls Eddie to stay over to help, goes form the guest room to her bedroom eventually and the admit their love for each other. Eddie just loves her and their son so much.

I did what I do best, reading the request and then writing a whole fic without looking back. So the story is still the same! She is just staying at Eddie's place instead. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻 I had a lot of fun with this one

⚠️little bit of smut

All grown-up

It was a well-known fact Eddie hated the cheerleaders and jocks. And it was a well-known fact they hated him right back.

But there was one person in particular that made Eddie's blood boil. She knew how to push his buttons, get under his skin, and drive him past the turning point. He lost all of his sanity when he was with her.

Which is why he didn't understand why he purposely sought her out. He'd crave her and go walking her way, immediately regretting it the second she opened her mouth.

But then her tongue was in his mouth, her hands in his hair, and her hips rocking against his. And he remembered why he craved her in the first place. Her kisses were addicting but so poisonous. So were her moans and whines.

His brain melted into mush once he inhaled her perfume. His knees weak when her body was against his. His cock was hard whenever she kissed him. She had this spell over him and he couldn't escape it.

It was like tasting the forbidden fruit. He wanted to taste it because he'd died wondering. But fearful for his life when he sunk his teeth in.

"Fuck you always make me feel so good," Y/N whined, her head thrown back as Eddie attacked her neck. His hot lips and tongue against her skin, with the softness of his nose.

"I know I do, whore," he growled, his hands squeezing her ass

~

Hours went on and the two were sticking together by their sweat. Her body was under his as her fingers clawed down his back. Her left leg over his shoulder as he thrust inside of her. His chest was against hers as his hips knocked against hers.

"Fuckkkk, baby. Got me so close," Y/N whined as she moaned into Eddie's ear. His head in her neck as he marked her. He was always stuck with the reminder of her all over his sheets, he wanted her to remember him.

"Yeah? Gonna cum all over my big cock? What's that going to be? Number four?" Eddie chuckled, his words mocked her as his fingers toyed with her clit.

"You drive me insane," Y/N groaned. She rolled her eyes at his mockery.

"And you love it," he smirked. He picked up his pace, loving how her jaw dropped as she silently screamed.

"Be my good little cheerleader and cum for me." He demanded, his fingers working fast on her clit. Her mind was in a haze as she felt her stomach get tight.

"You gonna cum too? Fill my pussy, baby?" She asked, her hands in his hair as she yanked.

His lips were inches away from hers, and his eyes held hers.

"Fuck, beg for it," he moaned

"Cum for me, Eddie. Cum in my pussy and fill me up. Wanna be your good girl and have you dripping down my thigh" she breathed out, panting against his mouth

"Such a sweet talker when I'm fucking you. I wish you kept that energy all the time"

She wanted to roll her eyes again but she felt herself cumming. Her eyes did roll...just into the back of her head. She reached forward and trapped his bottom lip between her teeth, her teeth stabbing into his flesh as she came all over him.

"Fuck, that's it, gorgeous. Soak me," he praised, his fingers circling her clit at a breathtaking speed. Her cunt clenched around him so tight it made him shiver. He wanted to slip out of her and fuck right back in but her walls clamped around him tightly. Milking him right then and there.

He felt his body collapse against hers as shot his cum inside of her. She shivered as she felt her cunt warned by him, the cum sitting inside of her as his cock didn't move. He felt his cock soften the longer he stayed still. Both trying to catch their breaths

"God you feel better every time," Eddie whined as he rolled off of her, his cock slipping out. Both were already missing the feeling.

She hummed in agreement. Her eyes were heavy and she could feel his cum leaking down her thighs.

Eddie took a few deep breaths before he crawled out of his bed. She bit her lip as she took in his naked body, the sweat that dripped down his back.

"Eddie,"

Eddie turned as he heard her voice, his trip to the bathroom interrupted.

He saw the look in her eyes. The burning lust as her teeth ate away at her bottom lip.

"Wanna go again?" She asked, a smirk on her face as he immediately crawled back into bed.

She giggled as he tore the sheet off her body and then silenced her with a hot and passionate kiss.

~~~

When Monday came around, Eddie was back to hating her. He rolled his eyes as she walked in the walls, her eyes already on him as her feet carried her that way.

"Morning, freak. How was your weekend?" She teased.

"What do you want?" Eddie groaned, his back against a random locker. He hated the way he checked her out. The hickies on her neck were dark, he felt a little turned on that she didn't bother to cover them.

"Nothing. Just like to make you cranky." She laughed, ruffling his curls. He smacked away her hand with a growl. "See you later, freak." She sent him a wink as she walked away.

Eddie bit his lip as he felt his blood boiling once again. She drove him insane.

~

The day didn't get any better. She was right back on making his life hell.

He sat in gym class, already hating whatever the teacher planned.

"RUN A LAP!" the teacher yelled, blowing a sharp whistle. Eddie bitched inside his head as he stood up.

He grabbed the hair tie he left on his wrist and pulled his hair up, but the damn thing snapped.

"Son of a bitch!"

"Language Munson," Y/N giggled as she walked up to him. Eddie fought the urge to roll his eyes. It was like she showed up everywhere.

"Zip it, Y/L/N," he snapped back

"Someone is not in the mood," she said, her arms crossed as she snuck a look at his gym shorts and took in the tattoos on his legs. Something she's seen countless times, but knowing his thigh tattoo was hidden by the material turned her on. A little reminder there are parts of him no one has seen.

"When am I ever in the mood for you?" He chuckled, a dark mocking laugh. She loved that he edged her on and played her games. She loved keeping his attention all on her.

She smirked as she leaned closer. Her lips were right against his ear.

"When you want your dick wet,"

Eddie shivered as she lightly bit at his earlobe. She had no shame and didn't care who watched. The idea made him twitch in his shorts.

He regained his composure as she backed away. Her face now looked at his. She could tell her words affected him by how dark his eyes were.

"kneel," she demanded

Eddie's eyes bulged out of his head. Was she nuts?

"We are in the middle of the football field! Do you see all these people?" He asked, he looked over. Most people followed the direction of running the lap around the huge track. The teacher had his eyes on his clipboard, not paying attention to anything.

She rolled her eyes

"I'm not asking you to eat me out in the middle of a football field, Eddie. I mean seriously? Is your head ever out of the gutter?" He took in her serious face but that glimmer in her eye. She was pulling his leg.

"Does yours? I'm not the one who begs for three more rounds." Eddie bit back, loving the way she glared.

"Fine, have fun running with your hair down!" She snapped, snapping the hair tie on her wrist. "If you had manners, maybe I would have still helped."

She turned around, her ponytail flicking in his face as she took off.

He watched as she ran. The way her ass moved in her small gym shorts.

He shook his head and began to run. He tried everything to ignore her body a few feet ahead of his.

She tortured him.

~

Eddie was glad the day was over. Finally, time to go to hellfire. He held his books as he walked towards the room. His eyes were down as he read through his notes.

He jumped when a hand slammed his books, all falling out of his grip and splattering on the floor.

"Oops!"

Eddie felt his body light up with fire when he heard her voice. He looked at her with a pissed-off expression.

"My bad," she lied, happily walking away. He hated the way his head turned and watched her go. Not looking back to his books until she turned the corner.

~~~

But then something changed

She teased him constantly every day. Practically bullying him until he punched the lockers to get rid of the pent-up frustration until the weekend.

But once that weekend came, he couldn't find her at the party anywhere. It was a game they played. She'd give him hell for a week, then he'd get his revenge on the weekends. Which meant they fucked until he felt every ounce of anger leaving his body as he emptied it inside of her.

Monday came and he still didn't see her. When he got home, he almost wanted to call. But they were fuck buddies, he didn't have the right to call.

Then Tuesday rolled around, and she was nowhere.

Same as Wednesday

Until Thursday she finally showed up.

His eyes watched as she walked in. Her arms crossed over her stomach as she practically sped walked through the halls. Not even glancing his way, no comment, and no insult.

He kept his eye on her the whole day. It was weird for her not to interact with him at all. But maybe she felt sick? She was gone for days and came back looking pale and with dark bags under her eyes.

He almost felt like he was worried? But he didn't know why. He could care less about her life and what happens when he's not around. Not like he cared about her.

~

But then a whole week passed and she still hasn't said a word to him. He figured he might have pissed her off? But he couldn't recall anything that would set her off.

He admitted to himself that he was worried, but still wasn't sure why.

He finally called once he made it home. His finger played with the cord as it dialed.

"Hello?"

"Where the hell have you been?" He cut straight to the point

"Eddie?" she asked, she sat up shocked.

"Yeah, now answer the question." He snapped

He waited for a snappy reply, but all he heard was a deep sigh

"I've been at school. What do you mean?" she played with the telephone cord as she chewed on her lip

"Why have you been avoiding me?" He asked

"Why do you care?" she questioned, a part of her hoped he did care. And that he might have missed her.

"I don't!" He snapped right away

"Then why did you call?" She bit back

Two seconds in and they were already at each other's throats

"Forget it!"

He slammed down the phone and puffed out an angry breath of air

He did not care

~

Y/N felt tears dripping down her chin as the phone beeped. She put down her phone and stared at the wall.

"I'm so scared he won't want you," she whispered, tears falling as she cradled her stomach.

~~~

The next morning she took a deep breath and walked over to Eddie's loud van.

She knocked on his window

She smiled as he rolled down his window

"Hey," she said softly, "can we talk?"

"Get in," he said, nodding his head to the passenger side as he unlocked the door.

She crawled into the seat and grabbed a bag from her backpack

"I know we didn't talk on the phone, but I need to tell you something." The nervousness in her voice made him scrunch his eyebrows in confusion.

"What's up?"

She didn't say anything but handed over the brown bag.

He grabbed it, even more confused. He opened the bag and felt his stomach drop to his sneakers. He gulped as he pulled out the small ziplock bag, a positive pregnancy test inside.

"You're pregnant?" Eddie choked out, he turned his head to look at her. She looked pale and hugged herself. He couldn't help but look down at her stomach before he looked back up.

"Yes, that's why I've been ignoring you."

"Because you don't want the dad to know you've been seeing me?" He scoffed, throwing the stick back in the brown bag.

"Eddie, can we talk without it being a battle?" she sighed, she was exhausted. She lost so much sleep from thinking about how this conversation would go.

"Fine," he said as he bit his tongue. "Why are you telling me? To break it off?"

"Why am I telling you?" she scoffed, "Because this baby is yours."

Eddie snapped his head to the side, his scared eyes looking into hers.

He opened his mouth but nothing came out. His hands were sweaty and his heart raced.

"I don't believe that," he laughed. "There is no way. You take birth control, we only agreed to have sex with no condom because of that."

"I know! But my period is late, I've been sick, oh and I peed on three fucking sticks and all were positive. So if you don't believe me, maybe you'll believe the doctor. I have an appointment after school. I want you to come." She confessed. A little annoyed he didn't believe her in the first place.

"I don't know, Y/N. I mean-"

"Fine, I'll do it on my own. I knew you wouldn't give a shit" She snapped and grabbed the bag from his hand. She slammed his door shut as she stuffed the bag in her backpack.

She ignored the tears building in her eyes. She knew he wouldn't want to be a dad, but she was stupid enough to have the hope she wouldn't do it alone. She yanked open the school doors and walked in.

"Fuck me," Eddie huffed as he got out of his van.

~

Y/N sat in the waiting room. Picking at her painted nails as she tried to calm down the sickness in her stomach. She hated to do this alone, but she was too scared to tell her parents and friends. She knew her dad would be pissed, and she feared his reaction more than anyone.

She looked up as her name was called. She took a deep breath and walked in.

~

"Alright, congratulations! You are pregnant. Come back in about three weeks for an ultrasound."

Y/N left the office and drove home.

She told her parents the news, and her dad reacted the way she thought. With screams in her face and disapproval in his eyes.

"You will not have a baby in this house!"

"Dad! I want to keep it." And she did. She was scared and had no idea what to do. But she knew she would love this baby more than she loved anyone.

"Absolutely not! If you want a baby, you get the fuck out of my house."

So she did. She backed up her bags got in her car, and drove to Chrissy's house with tears in her eyes.

~~~

Now that Chrissy knew, she never left Y/N's side.

Eddie watched as they both walked in. He kept his eyes on her, but she walked past him.

He deserved that

~

At the end of the school day, Eddie watched as Chrissy and Y/N got into a car together.

He jogged over and knocked on the window.

Y/N rolled it down but didn't say anything.

"How...how was the appointment?" He asked

"It was fine. Ultrasound in three weeks." She said, short and sweet. Eddie nodded, a part of him regretted not showing up.

"Do you think I could take you home? I'd like to talk to you."

"I'm staying at Chrissy's but I can stop by tonight?"

"Why are you there?" Eddie asked before he thought about it

"Because I'm pregnant. Unlike you, my dad believed me and kicked me out. Are we done here?" She snapped but didn't wait for an answer as she rolled up the window.

He deserved that too

~

Eddie coughed awkwardly as Y/N sat on his bed. She waited for him to talk but it's been five minutes of absolute silence.

"Eddie are you going to talk? Because I've got shit to do." She sighed

"You decided to keep the baby?" Eddie asked

"Yes,"

"And do you...um...have a plan?" He asked, he stood in front of her with his arms crossed.

"Not really. I'll have to quit cheerleading, and get a job. Then raise as much money as I can while I stay with Chrissy. Find a tiny apartment, move out from my old house and have this baby." She explained. It scared her to be on her own, but she wouldn't be alone.

"You can't get a job, you're pregnant!" Eddie said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So what? Pregnant women have had jobs for years. What? You don't think I can do this?" She snapped, standing up as the anger filled her body.

"You will be doing school and a job. Your body is going to get exhausted. You are going to get stressed and that's not good for the baby!" Eddie explained

"Since when do you give a shit about me and my health?" She scoffed, rolling her eyes as she crossed her arms, mirroring his body.

"Since you are carrying my baby." He fought back

"Oh so now it's yours? Because from what happened yesterday, you don't want any part of it."

"And I was wrong," Eddie confessed, "I'm sorry I didn't go with you."

"Wow, didn't think you would ever admit to being wrong. And I don't need a shitty apology. I'm fine on my own." She spat out

Eddie sighed in frustration

"For once can you just shut the hell up and believe for one second that I'm a decent person?"

She opened her mouth to fight back but closed it. She knew arguing would get them nowhere.

"Fine. I accept your apology." She said, dropping her arms as she sat back on his bed.

"How are we going to do this?" Eddie asked, taking a seat next to her

"We?" She asked, looking over at him

"We," he said, sending her a smile as he placed his hand on her knee

"Start with being better with each other. I don't want the baby to grow up with parents who can't work together and who fight all the time." She explained, her words agreed with Eddie's thoughts.

"We got this," He said, nudging his shoulder against hers. He smiled when she laughed and nudged him back.

"I do have a question though," Eddie said, she hummed as she waited for him to ask.

"Can we still have sex?" A smirk on his face and a glimmer in his eye

"You are such a pig!" She laughed, shoving him as she stood up. He chuckled as he fell against his bed. "I'll see you tomorrow." She shook her head with a smile.

" I DIDN'T HEAR A NO" He yelled as she walked out.

~~~

"Allow me," Eddie said as he lifted Y/N's backpack from the ground.

"Eddie, I can carry that!" She huffed but Eddie shook his head

"Doctor's orders," He smirked knowing he won every battle with that one sentence.

Y/N was over nine months pregnant. Her belly was huge as she waddled down the halls. Over the past months, many things have changed.

Eddie had a crib set up in his room, waiting for the arrival of his son. Even though Wayne chewed Eddie's ass out, he was very excited at the idea of having a baby around.

Y/N still stayed with Chrissy, in the guest bedroom. She got a waitressing job and helped Chrissy manage the cheerleading team. Eddie pitched in to help buy a few things, but Y/N didn't like to think of where the money came from. But Eddie refused to not do his part.

As for their relationship, it got less heated between them. They found themselves good friends and able to enjoy each other's company with their clothes on. Not that they didn't sneak in sex here and there. Eddie was very good at charming his way inside her pants.

They weren't together or anything. Just friends who were going to raise a baby together. But the more time they spent together, the more their feelings were changing.

They didn't tell each other, but they both were falling.

~~~

After the baby came, Y/N realized how hard being a parent was. She was up all night feeding the baby. She barely got a blink of sleep during the week. She was grateful that her senior year was done and that summer began. She lost out on money as she had to quit her job to be with her son. Eddie got a full-time job and used most of his paycheck for his family, and he didn't mind. He took up extra hours and did deals on the weekends.

Eddie was passed out in his bed when he heard the phone ring. He groaned but slipped out of bed. He yawned as he walked into the hallway and picked up the phone

"He-" Before he could speak a word, Y/N's cries came through

"He won't eat, he won't sleep. I don't know what to do. I haven't slept in days and I can't do this. I'm sorry, I can't."

"Shh, it's okay. Take some deep breaths for me and I'll be right there." He hung up the phone and raced to his room. He grabbed the nearest pants he could find and threw on a shirt.

~

Chrissy gave him a small tired smile as she opened the door. Eddie didn't say anything, just racing straight to the guest room.

He opened the door, and she sat on the bed crying as she rocked the crying baby.

"Oh sweetheart, here." He cooed, and he took the baby from her hands. Holding him close to his body as he softly rocked him. The baby's cries fizzled out as Eddie hummed a song.

Y/N watched as she wiped her tears with her sweatshirt sleeve. Her heart hurt by how easily Eddie could get their son to sleep when she spent the last three hours trying the same thing.

Eddie smiled down at the little boy and placed him in his crib. Eddie turned to Y/N but she was walking out of the room. Eddie closed the door behind him and followed her. She walked into the backyard and took a breath of fresh air.

"You okay?" he asked

She scoffed as she sat on the grass

"No, I've spent days and hours trying to get him to rest and nothing. You had it done in under a minute. I'm such a failure." She sobbed, and she covered her face with her hands.

"You are not a failure!" Eddie disagreed, sitting next to her as he wrapped his arms around her. She cuddled into his side as she cried "You are tired and stressed, he probably could sense that. But that isn't anything bad. You just need a little break."

"What if he doesn't like me? He cries whenever I hold him, feed him, change him and even look at him."

"He does like you, and he loves you!" Eddie defended, he hated how hard she was on herself.

"How do you know?" She snapped as she pulled away, his arms still around her. "I mean I have one friend, Chrissy. The cheer squad has hated me since I left. My parents hate me, and you...you hated me too." Eddie looked into her wet and sad eyes, his heart hurting.

"Fuck the cheer squad and fuck your parents. And fuck me for the time that I didn't like you. But that is because I barely knew you. You made my life hell, you were stuck in my head and drove me crazy. But now? I can't find one thing I dislike about you." Eddie said, his thumb cleaning off her tears as she sniffled. "I like how smart you are, how witty and funny you get with me, and I love that you gave me a son. Those people don't matter. They dislike you because they aren't getting what they want from you, and that's on them. You are a great person and a badass mom. He is going to see that and he is going to feel so loved by you. Just like how much I feel loved by you."

She sniffled as he finished his speech. Her heart warm as she melted into his hands that held her face.

"I make you feel loved?" she smiled, Eddie nodded with a smile of his own.

"You do" he whispered, his eyes boring into hers. He'd never stared so intensely into her eyes before. He loved the way it made his heart race and throat dry.

"I feel loved by you too," she whispered. Her eyes flicked down to his lips and then to his eyes.

His heart raced faster when she looked at his lips. He didn't have any thoughts in his head but wanted to kiss her, so he did.

He turned his head as he slowly leaned in, his eyes watching hers to see if he should pull away. But she leaned in, her lips inches away from his.

They stared at each other for a minute, breathing each other's air. Eddie closed his eyes and closed the space between them. His hands were on her cheeks as his lips melted against hers.

Her head spun as she straddled his lap, her hands on his shoulders as she kissed him back. It wasn't the first time they'd kissed, but none felt like this one.

He moaned as he moved his hands down to wrap around her waist, shoving her body further into his. His tongue slipped inside her mouth as she happily opened her mouth.

His warm and strong tongue worked against hers as the world faded away. All her worries and stress melted away as she gripped his shoulders with want and need.

Needing air, they pulled away. Breathing hard as they stared at each other

"Y/N" he whispered

"Yeah?" she whispered back

"I'm in love with you," his eyes held this intensity that made her nervous, but excited.

She couldn't help but smile as she said it back

"I'm in love with you too"

"Come live with me," he said

She looked at him shocked and let out a little laugh

"What?"

"I'm serious. I want to be more involved. I don't want you to be up alone and struggling every day and night. Stay with me, in my room. I have everything we need, and Wayne won't shut up about seeing that damn kid," Eddie chuckled, and Y/N laughed with him. She knew Wayne was obsessed with the baby.

"Oh fuck it, why not?" She shrugged with a smile

"Yeah?" Eddie asked, slightly shocked she agreed to it

"Yeah" she nodded excitedly

Eddie smiled and pressed his lips against hers

~~~

Two years passed and the three were ready to live in their own home. Y/N and Eddie worked hard and saved up every dime they had. It was a small trailer, a few feet down from Wayne. He didn't want them to go far.

Eddie and Y/N loved that Luke was two years old because he could say and do a lot more. He was incredibly smart for his age and spoke in clear sentences. Eddie said he got it all from her.

Luke slept peacefully in his room as Y/N and Eddie slowed danced in the small kitchen. No music played as they swayed back and forth in each other's arms.

Her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as his chin rested on her head.

"Can you believe where we are?" Y/N asked, "It amazes me that we have a family now."

"I know," Eddie said into her hair as he kissed her head, "We are all grown up."

"Maybe I am, you still play with high schoolers." She teased

Eddie scoffed and smacked her ass playfully. "Such a brat, I see where Luke gets it from."

"Oh shut up," she laughed

They swayed in silence a bit longer before Eddie spoke up again

"Y/N?" he asked, he pulled away to look down at her, but still kept his body wrapped up in hers.

"Yeah?" she looked up at him

"Marry me" he didn't ask, he said it

"What?" she blinked, thinking it was a dream. But the serious look in Eddie's eyes told her she was wide awake.

"Marry me. Let's be a real family. I want you to have the same last name as us." His eyes stared into hers as he tried to read her expression

"You sure about this?" she asked, she wasn't scared but she always thought Eddie would have been

"I'm positive. I want you and me for life."

She felt her eyes water as she smiled

"Oh fuck it, why not?"

"Really?" Eddie asked, a smile breaking out on his face

"Let's get married!" She cheered

She laughed as Eddie picked her up and spun her around. He placed her back on her feet and held her face in his hands.

"I fucking love you," he said, a daydream smile on his face

"I love you too,"

They smiled as they both leaned in to connect their lips

They truly were all grown-up

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaissaworm @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[boredpotate]

Happier Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Arcane or any links. I only own the concept idea to this story and the story itself.

Concept: Isekai Fem Reader turns back time to fix her timeline, but it has unforeseen consequences.

Reader Pov

"MMMMPPPHHH!!!" I let out a muffled yell of pain. One of my kidnappers stomping on my braced leg; the leg brace being broken a while ago with some of the parts being bent or broken off.

I tried to escape, I really did, but that blow to the head really isn't me doing me any favors. They snuck me back down here to the deep end of the Undercity and once far enough away, they started their "payback" in some fucking dead end alleyway. Taking turns punching, kicking, slapping and just overall beating me to a pulp.

"Hey! Remember not to mess her up too much. We won't get paid if you break the merchandise" The woman who I determined as the boss of the rest of the group.

"Oh c'mon! We did this to get payback didn't we!?" one guy says as he kicks me on the ground as a heave for breathe.

"Yes, we did. We also all want to make an actual pay from this right?," their boss says and I can only guess the others agree, "Then we can't fucking kill her! We fuck her up, let her have what has been coming for a long time and then get paid. After that we can start making big moves down here, especially after this bitch is stuck in recovery." she says as she grabs my hair and lifts my head up to show them my state before throwing me back into the dirty alleyway floor.

"Fine. Still gonna have our fun though." Someone says kicking me in the back, the bruises that were already beginning to form from earlier assaults making the pain much worse.

I feel emotions rising again, but I don't shed tears for them. That would just make them happy. Instead I hold out and hope for this to be over soon; for the pain to just stop already. But a part that I try to bury down still sticks to my mind. A part of me that fears that this won't end, that they won't stop, they'll get carried away or change there minds.

'What if I die here?' the thought runs through my head as someone else decides to join in and get their hits in. The pain not getting any better, and only escalating as I scream out from behind my bindings.

"AAAAMMMMMPPPHHH!!!"

Powder Pov

"So what is it you wanted to talk about?" Ekko asks as we dance together as the music plays and people party and mingle around us.

"Two things. First, Y/n and I talked and she said some things that really touched me and open something up in me. So, I want to present the power cell with you. As partners, like you said you wanted to; before I walked off on you like a bitch. Sorry about that by the way." I say, feeling a little guilty now that I think back on when Ekko first asked me and I got upset at him.

"Really!? That's great! And you don't have to apologize for being upset. You were going through some things. We all do. But are you sure? You really want to do this with me?" he asks which makes me smile.

"Yes. I really do. I-I don't want to be stuck. I was scared of messing it all up and screwing things up for you too. I thought I would fail at it all..... but then Y/n talked to me. I'm still scared, but if I fail, I want to work through it. I wanna push forward and keep trying. I want to do that with you, Ekko." I admit, and he smiles and we lean into each other and have an intimate moment together on the dance floor.

Ignoring a random whistle and comment towards us from someone who is probably drunk as shit, even though the party just started.

We pull apart and continue dancing; holding each other close and I feel a weight be lifted off my shoulders. Finally feeling..... free.

"You don't know just how happy that makes me Powder. I promise you won't regret it," he says with determination in hus voice making me smile at his steeled resolve, "And the second thing?" He asks, making me a little nervouse.

"Right. So y'know how we said we would talk about our "thing" with Y/n tomorrow?"

"Yeah. Why?" he asks as he furrows his brows.

"Well when Y/n talked with me she said some things that were really touching and meaningful and then something inside me was just like 'Oh shit. I love her,' sooooo I may have kiiiiiiisssed heeer" I say as I shrink back slightly, afraid that he will be mad.

"......Okay." he says casually which makes me stunned and we stop dancing.

"Wha?"

"Okay. Surprisingly, I'm not mad."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Usually I would, but this is Y/n we're talking about. We both know we have a "thing" for her, and I honestly don't mind," he explains making me relax more as I hold his hands, "Is that weird?" He asks and I take a moment to genuinely think on it before answering.

"No, at least, I don't think it is. Even if it were the other way around, I don't think I would be mad either. As long as it's her," I say as I think back on those beautiful words that Y/n let spill from her lips. Her soft lips, "She makes me feel a certain way. Just like you. She brings something out of me that I didn't know was there." I say, and I hear Ekko chuckle.

"I know. She's also kind." "Caring too." "Loves Isha." "Always wants to help." "Cute too." "More like hot as fuck."

We bounce off of each other as we list the things we have grown to love about Y/n in just a month of knowing her. I smile and think back fondly on all the times we spent with Y/n and Isha. Just living life happily together.

"I love her, Ekko."

"I love her too." He says and we both stand there, two idiots in love with someone and wanting to bring her into our lives.

"You think.... You think she might feel the same way?" I ask him with hope in my voice.

"I don't know. You're the one who kissed her. You tell me." he says with a laugh.

"Well she didn't push me away, but she also didn't kiss back, although I think that's mostly because she was in shock. You should have seen her face."

"I got a glimpse of it when you two came back. Looked like her brain was fried" he says and we both laugh a little at that, "Since we're on the topic; how was it? The kiss?"

"It wa-"

"Hey you two!" I am interrupted by being pulled into a tight hug by none other than my sister Vi.

"Hey sis." I say in a strained voice.

"Happy you made it." Ekko says, his voice also strained and I see Cait shaking her head over Vi's shoulder.

"Of course we made it! This is a big night! Sevika's here too, but she went straight to the bar for a drink." Vi says as she somehow squeezes us tighter.

"Sweetie, you're gonna kill them if you hold them any tighter," Cait says, making Vi let go and take a step back, "You two looked like you were in a good mood. I'm guessing the energy cell was a success?" Cait asks.

"You know it. I already have it on display and ready for Powder and I to present to investors and the judges." Ekko says, making Vi perk up at the mention of my name.

"Together?" Vi asks, and both she and Cait look towards me expectantly so I give them a nod, making them both brighten up more, "That's great! Amazing! So are you two are going into this as partners?" Vi says excitedly making me smile at her encouragement.

"Of course. It's like what Y/n said. We're gonna rattle the stars." I say as I think back on those beautiful words that reached and touched such a deep part of me.

Suddenly I feel something ram into my lower back, almost throwing me off balance, begore quickly turning aroundto see Isha in a new frilly dress. Looking very happy.

"Isha! Look at you! When did you become royalty?" I ask as I kneel down to get a better look at her and she does a twirl to show off her dress to us.

"I didn't know Isha was a princess. Cupcake, why didn't you say anything?" Vi says jokingly and get's a pinch on her arm.

"I'm not a princess, and my family isn't royalty. We just collected a lot of influence over all of the years." Cait defends herself.

"So, basically royalty then." Ekko says, making the rest of us chuckle as I pick up Isha, and Caut sighs in defeat.

"Ekko! Powder! There you guys are, I've been looking for you two," I hear and turn to see Mylo and he does a double take at Vi and Cait, "Oh, hey! Good to see you two made it."

"What did you need?" I ask.

"Just wanted to let you know there's already some high profile looking people eyeing your energy cell, if you wanted to leave some early impressions on some investor's before the competition. Claggor is already showing off our plant. See?." he says as he points in a direction and we see Claggor showing off their invention to some people.

"Shouldn't you be with him?" Ekko asks and Mylo burshes it off and blows a rasberry.

"That's more of Claggor's thing. I'm better off mingling with the ladies." he says smugly and obviously eyeing at Gert on stage.

"You're such an idiot" I say as I shake my head, before feeling Ekko grab my hand as Vi tries to give him some advice on what not to do with women.

"Wanna make an impression?" Ekko asks and I look at Isha who nods her head happily.

"That looks like a yes. But first; hey sis! Cait!," I call to them and grab their attention, "Can you ask Y/n to meet us at Ekko's display? She helped us make it too, so I want her to be there when we show it off. That's fine, right?" I ask Ekko and get a nod.

"No problem! Where is she amyway? You four Are usually always hanging out together." she says with implication in her voice.

"She was sitting at the bar the last time we saw her. She should still be there," I say before adding on more thing, "And if she looks like she's in shock or contemplating something. That's fine. Just send her our way." I say we start walking away to where I would presume Ekko's display is.

"Don't worry, we'll find her." Cait says reassuringly before we start heading to the power cell; it already having people inspecting it.

"You ready?" Ekko asks me and I nod.

"Always."

Caitlyn Pov

"Can you believe it, Cupcake? Powder is gonna present with Ekko! She's finally gonna get out there and show off to the world." Vi says excitedly. Which I understand completely considering all the times I've heard about Powder holding herself back.

"She looked happy. I wonder what made her so confident to try now?"

"I'm willin' to bet it's her and Ekko's latest eye candy," Vi says with a smirk, "Those two are lovesick if you ask me." she says as we look for the girl in question around the bar area.

'Who would've thought an investigation would lead to a new addition of our family and friends.' I think back to just a month ago when we first met Y/n in this bar. I was slightly scared of her then, but afterwards she showed a much mofe gentle side of her. One that cared and laughed.

"Vi! Cait! It's good to see you two made it!" Vander calls out as he finishes serving a handful of people.

"Of course we made it. We wouln't miss such a big night." Vi says as we approach the counter.

"I saw you two lookin' around the bar. Somethin' wrong?" he asks sounding concerned.

"Nothing at all. We were just looking for Y/n. Powder and Ekko want her there with them to present their power cell, and said she should be here. Probably in an unusual state too, but Powder said that's fine." I explain to get rid of his worries.

"Oh, good. Don't need trouble on such a goon night. Last I saw she looked freaked out about somethin' before going out the back door for a breather. Though I don't know where she went afterwards, Silco and I got busy once the party started kickin' up."

"Thank you. We'll go check to see if she's still out there." I say as I glancs at Vi and nod towards the door, before making our way there.

Once outside and in the alleyway that the door leads to, we do a quick scan around to see if she's here.

"Damn. Not here either. You don't think she got drunk and wandered off do you?" Vi asks me with some worry in her voice.

"No. Vander would have told us if she drank. I also don't think he would have let her out here on her own is she was drunk."

"That's true. He wouldn't risk that on any of us." She says as she goes deeper into the alley to see if she might be nearby, and I head the opposite way towards the main street.

As I walk, I suddenly hear a small wet sound when I take a step.

'It didn't rain today.'

I take a step back and look down before kneeling to get a closer look. My eyes widen slightly at what I knew was blood. My shoe making a print of it and some drops of it surrounding the area I stepped

"You got something over there Cupcake?" Vi asks, but I don't respond. Trying not to panic.

'It could be from anything.' I thought before spotting something familiar laying near a trash bin.

"Cupcake? You okay?" Vi asks now behind me, but I get up and quickly walk towards the object and pick it up. My eyes widening.

Y/n's helmet. No doubt about it with the bunny ears Isha drew on it. It's dented in the back and I turn back to Vi, her now leaning down inspecting the blood before looking up at me and her eyes widen in fear just like my own at the helmet before looking into my eyes. We have a wordless conversation through our eyes before rushing back inside.

Y/n was in danger.

Powder Pov

"With this, it should produce a much more effecient power cell. Both for long-term use and energy efficiency. We...." Ekko continues to explain to people that have shown interest in the energy cell. It's been going great. Isha seemed to like the attention when we mentioned how she along with Y/n helped us with putting it together. Speaking of.

'Where is she?'

It shouln't be taking this long for Vi and Cait to find her. Unless Y/n herself didn't want to come, but they would have told us if Y/n refused.

I take a glance around the bar and try to see if I can spot her when I see Vi and Cait rushing in through the back door, not caring to close it. I see them rush over to the bar and immediately grabbing Dad, Silco, Sevika and Benzo's attention, as I see fear on their faces. My heart starts beating faster at their expressions and only get's worse when I see the other three's expressions go from shocked to fear.

I hold Isha closer at that and tighten my hold on Ekko's hand and give it a tug to the side.

"Um, could you give us one second?," Ekko asks them before stepping aside with Isha and I, "Powder, what's wrong?" he asks and I only nod towards the bar and he looks to see what I see. Isha noticing as well.

We move forward to try and get a better look at what's happening through the crowd, and I spot something in Cait's hands. Something I recognize immediately as we get a better angle.

"Y/n's helmet." Ekko says for me with with worry in his voice.

I see a dent in the back of it and look up and see that Cait has spotted us. She doesn't need to say anything for me to know what happened. I can see it in her eyes.

Y/n was attacked, and by her absence took also her.

'Someone kidnapped Y/n.'

Something inside me awakens at that thought. I don't care. Y/n was taken away. We need to get her back.

I need her.

We need her.

Reader Pov

How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? I don't know. All I feel is pain and exhaustion as I lay limp in a dirty alley. I tried to grt away from it all and dissasociate, but the pain is too much. My throat feels strained from all the yelling and screaming.

"Alright! I think that's enough. We gotta move before someone finds us here," Their boss says, but I feel a foot apply weight on my braced leg. I only groan in pain as I am too tired and in too much pain to scream, "I said enough! Anymore and you'll kill her."

"And!? This bitch has had this coming for a long time!" The man from earlier yells out.

"Because then we can't get paid, remember? We got our payback; now we get paid." Their boss says again.

"I say we off her here and now. Bitch deserves it." A different woman says and I hear some murmurs of agreement from the others.

"Are you guys crazy!? We do that and the enforcers will come down on us harder than they already are now!" Their boss says, trying to regain authority, but it doesn't sound like it's going well.

"She's the reason why they're hitting us as hard as they're in the first place! What happens after she recovers and comes for us!?" the other woman says, getting more murmurs of agreement.

"I say we send a message." I hear the guy from earlier say. I start panicking as I see someone hand him my shovel that was taken off of me and start walking towards me.

"Hey! This is not the plan!," Their boss tries to step in front of me to stop him, but is blocked by others and moved aside, "Are you guys serious!? If you do this we're fucked!"

I try to get up to run or fight. To at least do something, but I'm too tired and in too much pain. I can only hardly push myself up with my arms before being stomped on my back.

'This is it? Dead in a fucking alleyway?,' I thought as I am kicked to roll over on my back. The others all cheering the man on as he steps over me, 'Maybe this is the cost? Time letting me face the consequences of my actions,' I barely stare up at the man as he lifts my shovel high over his head. Ready to bring it down onto me, 'As long as they live.' I try to accept, but then the memories come running back to me.

Talking with Vander, Silco and Benzo.

Listening to Heimerdinger play toons on the street.

Messing around with Claggor and Mylo.

Having tea with Cait and Vi.

Sevika showing her tough love.

Going out with Powder, Ekko and Isha.

Talking, laughing, caring and living.

'I want to live.'

I move my head last second and the shovel imapcts the ground next to my head and I use as much strength as I can muster curl up and kick him away. I use the force of the kick to roll over onto my feet and try to run in the confusion, but don't make it far. Someone manages to trip me and I fall down again.

"Damn! She still has some fight left in her! Not enough luck though!" The guy says with a laugh as I try to get up, but I get stomped on my leg.

"Stop! If you do this we're done for!" their boss, or maybe former boss, tries again to stop him but is stopped.

I can only look over my shoulder as the man with my shovel stands over me again and raises it high.

'At least I tri-'

*BANG*

"AAAGH Shit!" The man yells as he drops the shovel and blood spills from his hand. I look forward and see Cait and Vi there.

"Drop your weapons now! Or else!," Cait yells out orders, but no one moves. She shoots near one's head and only barely misses, "I'm not asking again! Drop! Them!," she commands them and they follow orders this time, "Back away from her to the end of the alley! Now!" she says and I glance back to see them continuing to follow orders.

I hear Cait and Vi get closer to me and I can only make brief eye contact with Vi before they move to stand between me any kidnappers. I hear people running from where Cait and Vi arrived and look forward again.

"Cait! Vi! What happ-......" I feel a wave of relief go through me as I hear Powder's voice and see Ekko next to her with Claggor and Mylo behind her.

They rush over and untie my restraints before gently turning me over after seeing my state. Powder gently lifts my head to lay it on her lap instead of the cold floor and brushes some hair from my face. I can't help but let tears fall now and cry. I turn myself into her and she holds me close; not too tight because of my bruised body.

"Someone get her gun." Vi says and Ekko is quick to respond and get's it from the floor and brings it back to Powder and I. Handing it to Powder to hold onto.

"Kids! What's goin' on!?," I hear Vander's voice now, rushing towards us and I peak out from my embrace with Powder to see him, Silco and Sevika. Vander is wearing his old gauntlets. They give me concerned looks before staring down the alley at the thugs on the other end, "What happened." Vander says, sounding more like a command than a question.

"They were going to kill her. We got here right before that guy was about to cave her head in." Vi answers and I feel Powder stiffen at that. I feel her hold on me only tighten a little. Not too much to hurt me, but just to have me closer.

"Ekko." She says and no other words are exchanged. He looks over at the thugs, specifically at the one bleeding from his hand before he picks up my shovel from the floor.

He walks forward and before the guy can step back Ekko swings the shovel at him, knocking him to the ground; the others backing away from the sudden outburst.

"Wait! Wai-" he's cut off as Ekko doesn't stop. He keeps beating on the guy on the ground. No one tries to stop him. Not even Cait; who keeps her rifle aimed at the other thugs.

"Wait, he doesn't ha-" I try to protest through a strained voice, but Powder just cradles my head closer to not see what's happening.

"Shhh. It's okay. Don't worry about it. Everythings okay now." she says as I hear the guy's yells and screams and Ekko beating him senseless. I hear bones break, blood leaking and more screams.

"Stop! He's had enough!," I hear their boss say, but Ekko doesn't stop. He ignores her and keeps going. I feel one of Powder's arm loosen and peak out to see the woman go step forward to grab Ekko, "Sto-" *BANG*

I hear a familiar gunshot. Not from Cait. Powder's arm with my gun in hand is extended out towards the woman. Powder shot her. The woman drops dead and I stare in shock at her corpse, before Powder wraps her arm around me to hold me close again. Ekko continuing to beat a man to death; his screams and yells getting weaker. I hear the breaking of bones and blood being spilled. No one stops him.

"Wh- Why did you....."

"It's fine. They deserve it." she says in a certain tone that sounds too familiar. Too much like Jinx.

I'm overwhelmed by emotions. Too much happening for me to know what to do. Eventually Ekko finally stops and I can hear his labored breathes.

"We-We won't resist arrest. We'll go to Stillwater!" I hear a thug says and getting no protests from the others.

"Vander. Y'know what needs to happen right?" I hear Silco ask, "They hurt one of ours. They were going to kill her." he continues in that cold tone I know all too well.

A few seconds goes by before I hear Vander's heavy footsteps walk forward towards where I know Ekko is.

"You're done here, Ekko. Kids! Take her home."

"What!? Dad, they were going to kill her! If Cait and I di-"

"There might be others who might try something Vi. Take her home," Vander says again as Ekko walks over Powder and I, "We'll handle the rest."

"What!? We'll turn ourselves in! We won't bother he-" the voice is cut off by a loud impact.

'What are they doing!?'

"Come on, let's go home." Ekko says as he picks me up gently and I can only get a peak over his shoulder at what is happening. I see another dead body in front of Vander, there head looking like it was caved in. Powder runs a hand through my hair before gently coaxing my head to lean into Ekko.

"Don't worry about them Y/n. Get rest." she says as if there isn't a massacre about to happen.

As we leave Vander, Slico and Sevika in the alley with the rest of the thugs, I can feel my exhaustion taking over. The screams and yells being left in the distance. My eyelids grow heavy before I have no choice but to sleep. Too tired and hurt to fully process anything that is happening.

"It's okay. You're safe now. Just rest. Isha is waiting for you back home." Powder says softly before I finally drift off into sleep.

Hope you enjoyed. And hopefully 2025 is a good year for everyone. Sorry for any grammar mistakes.

[steelheart-redux]

Steelheart Redux: Year 1 Retrospective

I meant to post this yesterday but forgot. Oops. Anyway, June 1st marked the official first full year of Steelheart Redux! For me, at least. While the comic didn’t go public until September, those who have been here since the start remember that I uploaded all of chapter 1 at once. That work started in June, so I consider that the comic’s effective birthday.

With that disclaimer out of the way: what a year it’s been! In 365 days, I drew 153 comic pages. That’s about 0.4 pages a day— a little shy of a page every other day. Granted, those numbers aren’t an even spread. I made all of chapter 1 in three months (68 pages) and then had to take a break for a while because of wrist strain (wonder how THAT happened…) and then the amount of backlog I had fluctuated wildly for a while. Some days I have more time and motivation than others. It happens.

Quite honestly, I’m mainly happy that I’ve stuck with the project. My worst fear was that I’d get a month or two into Actually Doing The Thing, then get bored, demotivated, and give up. Luckily, my brain has allowed me to stick with Redux with a level of consistency that is frankly unforeseen from me, and I’m just as motivated as I was a year ago, if not more, thanks to people's interest. I’ve said it before, but the reception to the story already regularly blows me away. I went into this with the expectation that it would take years for the comic to gain any real traction, if it ever happened at all. But here we are, a year in, with tens, if not hundreds of regular readers across multiple platforms. It’s an honor I don’t take lightly, and as I’ve said, I’m so, so grateful for the trust and support.

Looking back, the comic started on wobbly feet. That’s something I knew even at the time and had to make my peace with. Steelheart Redux is my first original story project, first long-form comic (first colored comic longer than a few pages, tbh), and first time I've ever really left the title of "fanartist" behind for longer than a month or so. I knew I was entering uncharted waters and that whatever I made, I'd later come to see as 'bad', or at least, not executed as well as it could have been. Unfortunately, the only way to get that experience and improve is to do it bad. So I did it bad!

STRUGGLES:

Chapter 1 is way too long. Not in terms of content, but in terms of page count. For some reason, I was utterly allergic to the idea of putting more than four panels on a page. While I do like the pacing of it, and the sort of slow ease-in to the world and the setting, I made way more work for myself than I needed to. I definitely could have cut at least 10 pages by compressing things without seriously hurting the pacing, and it would have saved me a lot of trouble. Figuring out how to "trim the fat" and get to where I'm going as fast as possible without making things feel rushed is still something I'm working on, but I'm a lot more intentional about things now that I know it can cost me time and physical strain. You can see the font size slowly shrinking throughout the comic's run as I pack more in, lol. Honestly, it kind of works.

I have various other nitpicks. I'm sparing myself from the general "I don't like how I drew that"s in terms of anatomy and such, as those are just an inescapable result of improving as an artist and not worth getting in the weeds over. I will raise my eyebrows over some lighting choices-- I went out of my way to plan out a way to make the nighttime section of early chapter 2 read as "night, but not dark", and then the entire bit was annoyingly dark as hell. Trying to get the purple DRACO to visually stand out from the concrete there was obnoxiously difficult. I don't think it's bad-- I like the 'scribble background' gimmick I came up with to save myself from having to do backgrounds there, for one thing-- but I don't think it would have killed me to brighten up that section a bit. Something to keep in mind for later.

Speaking of backgrounds. Maybe it's too early to say, but at least right now, changing the background style was a game changer. That was one of the largest time sinks of early pages, adding 2-3 hours to every page that had at least one or two backgrounds. They were doable, but tedious, and as time went on, I found myself enjoying them less and less, instead of more and more as I'd hoped. You can see details start to disappear as a result, as backgrounds stopped being a "fun worldbuilding element" and "visual element of the page" and became just "something I had to draw to get the page done". Changing the style to a much looser one has brought the fun back, and made it much easier to pack in all the details I actually enjoy drawing without getting bogged down in "is the perspective exactly right". I've written posts before about making things easier for yourself if you're doing a long-form project; this is honestly my best example.

GROWTH:

I feel like, looking back, I can see myself become a lot more confident with drawing various things. Steelheart Redux is filled-- intentionally and not-- with things I'm bad at drawing, which has forced me to improve at those things sheerly through unavoidable repetition. Mainly, this includes backgrounds, mechs (still can't get me to draw cars though LOL), full bodies, and profiles.

It's also interesting to see the way I draw characters change. Going into the comic, I'd already been drawing Arthur for years, but making pages forced me to really lock in his design and get comfortable with drawing it. While it's not too different in terms of content, it has a different 'feel' now. This, too, I know is inevitable, and honestly something I look forward to.

I've become a lot more confident in doing these things, which makes making pages less intimidating and lets me experiment more with layouts and angles I might have otherwise been afraid to try. It's nice! It shows in a lot of the end of chapter 2, which is one of my favorite parts of the chapter. I was worried about hitting those emotional beats, because they're setting up for a lot and really needed to feel meaningful, but I think I landed them alright. My character writing is still something I worry a bit about-- there's a lot of subtlety to these guys and this story I worry I won't be able to get across in a more visual story-- but that's something for me to increasingly focus on going forward.

Away from the comic, I've also improved a lot as a 3D modeler. My robot rigs have improved, and I have much better human bases to work off. I can also slam out a layout for a scene much faster, which is a nice time boost to my workflow.

Overall, despite the hurdles and rough edges of some of the early stuff, I'm incredibly proud of everything I've produced. This is the first time I've ever put my heart, body, and soul so thoroughly into a project like this, and I'd like to think it shows.

While we're still in somewhat of the early stage of the comic's story, I'm hoping I've made a solid foundation for myself. I'm so excited for what's to come, and hoping I can execute it even better, year by year.

[windssong]

To Hold The Sun // Astarion x gnTav

series summary: 5 years after the main events of Baldur’s Gate 3, you and Astarion have spent that time searching for a cure that would make it possible for him to walk in the sun again. During one of your adventures, you come across an ancient tome that promises a cure and much, much more.

Chapter 1 - And The Three Magic Words Are…

chapter summary: You are determined to do whatever it takes to make sure Astarion can feel the suns warmth once again. What you didn’t expect, was an ancient spell from an ancient book to do more than that.

words: 3k+

tags/warnings: 18+MDNI, brief smut, romance, high fantasy, canon level violence, fluff, some angst,

authors note:

This is one of my favorite ideas I’ve come up with yet. Just pure, high fantasy fun. Enjoy reading!

If you could only choose one moment to anchor yourself to, it would be right here. Shuddering underneath his dancing fingers, chasing each other's lips forever.

Astarion sucked in a gasp of sweet air, letting out a moan locked deep within his chest. He fell against your body as he came inside you. Legs tangled together underneath sheets that stuck against salty skin.

All that was left were two souls breathing heavily against one another.

He nuzzled his nose into your hair, catching his breath. You ran your hands through his white locks. You were the only person allowed to do that. It was soft falling in between your fingers. Like water in the palm of your hands, he drowned in your embrace.

Both of you had returned to the city late last night. The same city you and your companions saved years ago. You decided to find rest and say hello to some old friends at The SongFire Inn. Lakrissa had opened the Inn a few years back, along with Alfria who was also running her own bardic school.

The SongFire Inn was built near the edge of Rivington. Not too far from Wyrm’s Crossing but far enough away that you had to squint to make out its bridge from your window. For how spacious the Inn was, it still had all the comforts and furnishings of a welcoming home.

It was a nice change of scenery compared to the dingy and questionable Inns and abandoned homes you’d stayed in over the years. Although, sleeping beneath the stars is where you were most at ease.

A fireplace blazed across the room. The flames licked the humid air. Its golden light flickered across your naked bodies.

Since you had known Astarion, you had come to one simple conclusion. That there was no greater comfort than his presence. He was a tattered blanket slowly stitching itself back together. Every day, new patterns formed and colors made anew. You didn’t mind the icy air finding its way through little holes in the fabric. It kept you warm all the same.

He was still inside of you when he started laughing.

It took you a moment to gather your thoughts. Your head was still spinning from the aftermath of your orgasm. “What’s so funny?”

You could feel his smile spread against your shoulder. “Nothing darling. You just feel good. You make me feel good.”

He kissed your neck, lips drunk against your skin. “Thank you.”

His fangs ghosted over the faded marks where he first fed on you all those years ago. Then over the spot where he drank from you last night, when you ripped each other's clothes off, covered in weeks worth of grime and rain from your travels.

The pads of your fingers drew circles on his pale skin. “What did I do to deserve you?”

He grinned, peppering kisses along your collarbone. “I have absolutely no idea. It’s a mystery to me as well.” He paused above your new scar.

His shoulders tensed. You could practically feel the muscles tightening underneath his skin. You continued massaging the nape of his neck, hoping to distract him from the memory you knew he was reliving.

That memory, that fear of almost losing you 2 tendays passed, continued to stick with him. He couldn’t shake it. You knew it still bothered him, even though you had made a full recovery.

His arms tightened around you. He held you like he did then. On that frozen lake thick with snow and blood. Your blood.

The first time you heard him pray was on that cold night. It was more of a plea, to whatever god would listen. He knew it was futile, it had always been for him. But, he continued anyway, waiting for the health potion to kick in and take all your agony away.

His eyes raked over the burn mark right in the middle of your chest as it faded into and around your neck. Maybe if he stared hard enough, it would go away and everything would be okay again.

The skin around the circular mark was still inflamed and showed no signs of healing properly. He hated how painful it looked. He saw how your hands gripped the fabric over the scar, face wincing in discomfort over the past couple weeks.

The amulet left behind its imprint. The design that melted into your skin was a cluster of vines growing on top of each other. He could make out what looked to be a small dagger hidden between the overgrown plants. The thick scar tissue made it difficult to tell.

He became all too aware of his scar on his back.

You brought his lips to yours again, snapping him out of that awful memory. “Astarion.” His name rolled off your tongue in a soft whisper. You licked your lips, tasting yourself there. “I’m okay now. You know that, right? I’m not going anywhere.”

The Vampire Spawn sighed. He slipped out of you, sitting up against the wooden headboard. You missed the fullness of him as he left you empty.

“I do.” He glared at your scar. “Mostly. Doesn’t mean the thought of you choking on your blood doesn’t haunt every corner of my mind.” His face was cloaked in pain, the memory still so fresh.

It was a little over 6 tendays ago when Gale sent you that fateful letter and enchanted amulet that led you to your near doom.

After 5 years of research, The Wizard of Waterdeep had finally uncovered a potential lead for a cure. One that would let Vampires walk in the sun again. And potentially, cure Vampirism as a whole.

What he had discovered was an amulet. One that apparently belonged to one of the very first Vampires. Before her untimely death, Maeve wrote a book titled, To Hold The Sun. It was said to be a collection of spells she created herself in a desperate attempt to walk in the sun again.

After Maeve’s mysterious death, her remains, amulet, book all disappeared. Even her Vampiric Castle, Crimsons Haven, said to be the size of a small country, was all lost to the ever forward momentum of time. No one knew whose hands or what cavern held them. Or where her kingdom had fallen to ruin. Or if they and Maeve even existed in the first place.

That was, until Gale came across the amulet himself while adventuring. His research indicated that the lost tome could be found using the amulet as some sort of compass. Whoever wore the priceless artifact was guided to where the book rested.

Astarion didn’t like the styling of the necklace. Said it was, “too old-fashioned,” for his tastes. So, after teasing him about his sense of fashion, it was up to you to wear it. The circular material was warm against your skin. It glowed a soft yellow. A mini sun in the palm of your hands.

With the enchanted item and another adventure underway, the two of you let the amulet guide you onward.

It was a long shot.

You knew that. Astarion knew that.

Years spent searching countless books, poems and glyphs, investigating every town, cavern, and hideout on The Sword Coast had led to absolutely nothing. You couldn’t even find a temporary spell that worked. Just empty chests and promises.

But, even with all those disappointments and hiding in the dark away from the light, Astarion still smiled as if he already found the cure. He was free and finally able to forge his own path, without a puppet master's strings forcing him to do his bidding.

It was the happiest you’d ever been, on this journey with him. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel jaded after turning over nearly every root and stone in Faerun, only to find nothing but dirt and bones.

But this new piece of information changed things. It gave you, and most importantly Astarion, hope again. No matter how much of a long shot it seemed to be, you would take it. Even if it hurt you.

The amulet led to a cave only accessible across a frozen lake. That night, a blizzard raged. It was so cold, your eyelids refused to shut and fingers and toes went numb.

With an Elixir of Ice Resistance, the potion helped you travel that extra mile over the icy tundra. Astarion complained about the aftertaste and your coat that was apparently, in his words, “warmer than his.” You reminded him he was a Vampire and wore the Hoarfrost Boots Wyll gifted him when they all had reunited. Meanwhile, it took your full concentration not to slip and fall on the ice. Astarion walked past you when you did eventually fall over.

When you finally made your way over the treacherous landscape, you reached a shallow cave, finding To Hold The Sun nestled in the arms of a dead bandit. By the look of the body, it was in a frozen state of decay. It was difficult to tell how long it’d been there. Days, weeks, years, his body was forever trapped in the freezing temperature.

Maeve’s amulet burned like a beacon of light against your chest as you inched closer to the tome. There was no sign of damage on the book. It looked as brand new as a fresh plate of armor or newly forged steel. You would’ve never guessed it was centuries old.

After years of traveling and searching, you finally found something of substance. The relief was palpable. You could see it on Astarions face too. Eyes full of wonder. You didn’t want that flicker of hope to leave him ever again.

This was it.

You were unaware of the dark magic radiating off the tome until you held it in your hands. Astarion was too late to notice to stop you in time.

Darkness enveloped you, covering whatever it touched. The ball of shadow circled you in a violent rush of energy. Faces made up of a vine like substance flashed before you. Dead creatures from the past. They looked like Vampires. The red eyes told you were right.

Then, a blaze of heat moved through your chest. The amulet started melting into your skin, leaving behind its ancient mark. It paralyzed your entire body, but you could still use your vocal cords. The scream that ripped passed your lungs cut through Astarion in ways he’d never been cut before.

He tried desperately to reach you, but the darkness sent him flying back onto the icy lake. But that would not deter him. He tried again and again and was met with the same fate.

The thin layer of ice began to crack. Red tentacles moved their bodies up through the wedges. Those sinister vines bubbled up from underneath, topping the surface. They moved along the cracks like trees in the wind.

Eventually, the magic was sucked back into the book, and you were left on the cold ground, suffocating on blood. It was as if the necklace entered your body just to choke you from the inside out. If it wasn’t for the potion you had left in your bag, you would’ve been dead.

When you picked up the book again, you used part of your coat to store it into your bag. Astarion refused to ever let your skin touch that cursed tome again. He wanted to leave it there or destroy it himself for what it did to you. But, you couldn’t risk another missed opportunity. So, to his dismay, you took it.

You understood his worry. The mark just below your neck still stung with a fiery grip. The closest thing you could describe the feeling too was Karlachs burning hands. But even that felt more like a warm touch versus the searing pain of the scar.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” Your fingers found his own, eyes softening. “I put myself at risk, and that wasn’t fair to you. And me.”

Astarion shook his head, meeting your gentle gaze. He squeezed your hand, testing to see whether you were really there or not. He paused, choosing his next words with care. “I… I think we should stop looking for a cure.”

The air exited the room and your lungs. “I don’t understand.” You said.

“You will. Someday.” Astarion slid out of the large bed, hand outstretched towards you.

You frowned. “This isn’t about me. It’s about you. And what you want. I thought you wanted this?” You took his hand anyway.

“What I want is you. Right here.” He kissed each knuckle for every word. “Safe. With me. That’s more than enough for me.”

You took your hand away, holding his face with your palms. “But you could have the sun?”

The flames illuminated your bodies in a golden glow as you held each other.

Astarion brushed his forehead against your own. His red eyes matched the embers. “Are you trying to make me say, “you’re all the sun I need,” or whatever? Because if you are, that’s petty vanity I wouldn't even stoop myself so low for. I’m impressed.”

You let out a short laugh, pushing him away playfully. “You wish.”

He grinned, catching you in his arms. “Come on now. Let’s get cleaned up.” Astarion led you into the bath connected to the large bedroom Lakrissa let you rent for free. You made sure to leave some coin behind anyway.

After an hour or so in the water, you returned to bed in comfortable clothing.

Astarion fell asleep in your arms. You, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep. You kept replaying the previous conversation over and over again in your head.

Did he really want to stop? Every day, you two put your lives in danger in pursuit of this cure. Why was this incident any different? Why was this the breaking point?

Your fingers brushed against his skin as you watched him sleep. He looked so at peace.

You wanted to give this gift. To walk towards the light without the fear of burning away.

The more selfish part of yourself thought of your old body withering away as he stood there, helpless and ageless.

So, you quietly slipped out of the covers and closed the door to the other room. You sat with your back against the wall, bag in hand.

Since the accident, you tried your hardest to ignore the book. You were going to deliver it to Rolan tonight, to see what he could decipher from the ancient language. His tower held information beyond even his understanding. There were answers to be found there, and Astarion was sure they’d find them eventually.

But, the book was calling to you. It had been since the moment you laid your hands on it. There was a soft whisper in the breeze on the road back to Baldur's Gate. Then another when you entered the Inn, and another one right now. An invisible string was pulling you closer and closer to the tome.

Before you could register what you were doing, the book was open in your hands. The magic stayed at bay this time. It covered each page in a sea of black smoke. The language was unrecognizable. Yet, it was obvious that each spell was written in someone’s blood.

As you flipped through the old pages, the scar on your chest burned. The pain grew worse as you went through the tome. It was almost unbearable, but you couldn’t stop. You were rolling down a cliff and you couldn’t fight gravity. That was, until it ceased as soon as you stopped on a certain page.

There was a large Castle drawn in dried blood. It took up two pages. You assumed it was Crimsons Haven. Dark vines covered the Castle like moss. It looked similar to the twisted tentacle like force that attacked you just days prior. And the pattern on Maeve’s amulet branded to your neck. The details stretched far beyond the realm of any artist's abilities. It was so real, you could dip your hand into the sketch and crawl right into the ancient Castle.

Was your hand halfway through the page?

Then, three words unknown to you, words you’ve never heard nor spoken before, left your lips.

The wind made a ghastly noise, piercing your ears. Creatures dressed in robes of red and black filled the entire room, rushing past you violently. Gathering all the willpower you could muster, you shut the book as the scar burned away at your flesh. The shrieking seemed to last for hours, but it was only a moment later when it stopped altogether.

You took your hands off your ears, surveying the surrounding room. You figured you were the only one who heard the horrible sound given Astarion had yet to come and check on you.

Everything was in its exact place, except for the book. It was gone.

You scrambled to your knees, looking everywhere for the old tome. Only a tiny, red tentacle of smoke remained reaching up from the wooden floorboards. “Shit.” You ran a hand through your hair. And just like that, your hopes of finding that cure were dashed away once again.

You pressed your lips together, trying to stop an avalanche of tears from falling on top of you. When you stumbled out of the bathroom, head low and tail between your legs, you found Astarion staring out the window.

Your blood ran cold. “What are you doing!? Get back!” Before you rushed over to cover the window, you noticed there was no sunlight shining through it.

That couldn’t be? It was still morning.

“What in the hells...” Astarion pointed frantically out the window.

As you walked closer, you saw a large shadow looming over every building as far as you could see.

The whole town was covered in a cloak of red and black smoke, and it ran for miles. All the way from Riventon, passed Baldur's Gate and to the ocean. Didn’t matter where you looked, it was caged in like a wild animal.

Astarion lifted your chin with his finger. “Up, darling.”

Your eyes broadened, taking in the brand new scenery in front of you.

A Castle was floating in the sky, blocking out the sun.

The kingdom-sized Castle was shrouded in a layer of shadow, wrapping around the structure in red and black vines. Similar to the magic guarding the book and the amulet stuck to your skin. Layers of dark and Vampiric magic swam over the ancient stone in a protective cocoon.

The strangest part wasn’t even the floating Castle on its own or sea magic swimming around it. It was the position that left you at a loss for words.

It was floating upside down. The tips of the Castle towers nearly touched the buildings below. It sailed above the landscape, one brush away from crumbling to the ground.

“Oh no.” You said, taking a step back. The realization hit you as hard as the spell did.

It was the same Castle from the ancient tome. Crimsons Haven. Down to the exact details. And now it was here, looming over the city you had saved.

“What have I done?”

Astarion held a finger up. “And what exactly do you mean by tha-” He paused, narrowing his eyes. “Your scar. It’s gone.”

Your fingers brushed over the burnt area. He was right. There was no longer a layer of thick skin there. It had healed instantly.

But now an even bigger problem remained. Thanks to you and that book. And it was looming over the entire city, ready to swallow it whole.

—

CH 2 - coming soon

[crushedsweets]

Okay, but like, realistically, how would the Creeps having a partner (who isn't a proxy or associated with Slender/The Operator) even work? I mean, they're serial killers, and the whole Slender Sickness stuff would probably make that even harder, right? I feel like a lot of people would be scared off once they found out their partner was actually a murderer. Would the Creeps even try to convince them to stay?

(I have no idea where I was going with this. I pray it makes sense.)

ok fine x reader work from me YOU GOT ME.

ok jk i might use 2nd person/"you" cos its easier. but this isnt purposefully x reader content cos thats not my niche + i struggle with writing romance LOL . and a lot of these r very unhealthy dynamics, cos im not writing for romance, just answering the prompt

im not covering laari, ben, sally, dina, ann, or lulu in this cos theyre either children or not fit for a relationship (well nobody in this damn au is but ykwim)

FOR THE PROXIES... im imagining you meet them cos they come into your job. maybe a diner or grocery store or something

tim would have to get a partner completely by accident. as in, he's a regular at a diner and keeps getting the same server - and the server would have to make the first moves. it's not that he doesn't notice if someone's attractive or kind or something, but he idea of romance sounds so...unfair to him? unfair to whoever he's inflicting his life on. fearful of infecting them, etc - so you'd have to be really persistent, or really phenomenal for him to push. LOL. he'd try everything in his power to prevent you getting involved with the forest - which unfortunately makes him a less than ideal partner. wont explain why he's gone for so long besides "work" (which, to be fair, he's a truck driver in my au so its true most of the time). wont explain why he only hangs out with brian. why he's stuck in a shoddy apartment rooming with the same guy from college. why he's stood you up on a few dates. he'll apologize and mean it, trying to make up for it in some gifts and late night drives.

if he somehow fucked up and let you in on his life, he'd try to lie and lie and lie. he doesn't want you to know. he'll blame others, or try to convince you you're seeing things, misunderstanding - and frankly, he'll leave you if he thinks there's no turning back. an apology and half-honest conversation telling you he cant do this anymore. for your safety, for his job, etc etc - he wont hold on. if you love something let it go he sayssss

brian is kinda similar, in the sense that he isn't purposefully seeking out a relationship, but if you were to keep bumping into him and flirting every time, he probably couldn't help himself much if he found you attractive. he'll give you his number and entertain you, but he doesn't have intentions to maintain a long-term, serious relationship - HOWEVER, if it got that far, he'd be a bit messier than tim. tim will gladly look like a shitty partner if it protects his s/o, but brian hates that idea. he feels like an asshole and just wants to make you happy and be with you, but fuuuuuck DUTY CaLLS I GUESS. the issue with this is that, while he might come see you more often, he's also coming disheveled. dirty jeans, mysterious gloves, weird red spots, a gun in his backseat - his response to that depends on your nosiness and persistence

and if your nosiness and persistence resulted in you finding out what happened (he'd keep lying until you completely trap him in his lies) then maybe. maybe he'd come clean. only if you two are VERY serious. and in a way, part of him just ... expects you to stay. he's been a good boyfriend, and if he can prove to you this is some supernatural entity destroying his life and he isn't maliciously hurting people, (plus he will downplay his kill count drastically, if he even admits to it), then why wouldnt you stick it out?

but if you were deadset on leaving? welp. he's not begging

toby is. interesting actually im not too sure. honestly i HC that he really does want the whole white-picket-fence family lifestyle, but its a VERY repressed desire. completely buried it. i also HC that he's kinda pathetic when it comes to romance, so he develops short, fleeting crushes and infatuations pretty easily. so dont flirt with him he will get too excited and itll be upsetting when he later drops it. and he's so insecure and drowning in self hatred + trust issues, it's really difficult to get anywhere with him romantically - cos one day he'll be texting nonstop, seem super interested, and the next he's ignoring you or completely dry cos he's convinced you're fucking with him. you gotta start as friends, probably, and just hope he's still interested in friendship if he had a dying crush on you. THEN you can prob progress into romance. LOL

anyhow, like brian, he messily hides his work - he'll lie about being a hunter and it helps out, but.. its just very suspicious that he wont let you come to his house. or that he keeps talking about his female roommate named kate and you cant help but raise a brow. or when he comes over with a black eye and gets really fidgety around cops. RED FLaGS. it's not like he's some hard badass player, but your mind will wander... but he tries to be a good boyfriend, even if his idea of it is warped or he's really forgetful or insecure or moody . he's not disloyal or purposefully mean

chances are you find out his job cos he has a breakdown in front of you. prob comes to you already disheveled, bloody, panicking, seeking comfort, begging you not to see him differently. he's the only proxy to completely expose himself - and unlike the others, he will beg you not to go. try to overexplain everything, dig his grave deeper, subtle threats, so on. if you accept him as is, he's elated - stuck to your hip even more than usual. if you tell him you cant, he's livid. he'll leave, but expect calls and him on your doorstep later, telling you to hear him out.

but he'll give up eventually. he can only handle so much humiliation and if he keeps getting rejected, he'll start to hate you - and he doesnt want to. he rather remember you well and hate himself

kate is difficult. getting into a relationship with her is virtually impossible because she just. . has like, no interest ? ok. not no interest. the idea of romance and love doesnt sound bad to her, but she genuinely cannot imagine herself in a relationship - she barely can comprehend she has friends. she cant really do anything for you besides awkwardly sit with you and pick at her nails. and she has a flip phone for calling the others, but she will not text - so unless youre willing to call 5 times before getting a tired "why are you calling me", youre very likely to give up on her.

even if she falls head over heels for someone and cant get them out of her head, she isnt going to call you first or reach out to spend time with you, completely convinced it would just be you doing "charity work" or something stupid she heard from toby's own self deprecation. SO GOOD LUCK. if you manage to make her your partner, she'll finally process that maybe she needs to start behaving differently LOL but be patient. its not that she doesnt love you or think about you, but she'll run through 30 reasons why calling is a bad idea before she settles on "i just wanna hear their voice"

regarding work, she doesnt know how to navigate it. asks toby for advice, but he just says "keep them from this stupid shit" and she doesnt ask for details. so she wont tell you where the cabin is, only briefly mentioning she lives with a lumberjack (panicked lie), etc. when you find out about everything (cos she's the only proxy where its a definite), she just kinda slumps. shrugs and waits for you to tell her what you want to do. if you're done, she'll feel sick to her stomach and MaYBE try to insist "but it makes it easier now that you know". ask you to not go for one night, at least, then she'll forget about you by tomorrow - so just one more night, nothings gonna happen, etc etc. up to you by that point, but it IS true, it is easier now that you know. you can meet everyone and come to the cabin now, which helps

FOR THE SUPER NaTURaL...

jack....GOOD FUCKING LUCK HE'S SWORN OFF LOVE FOREVER. im joking but like kate, he truly doesn't believe he can ever ever ever be in a relationship again - either from fear of betrayal or disgust with himself. plus, like...he can't even leave the forest. HOWEVER, if youre okay with tucking yourself away in a cabin forever, he'll be good. he makes solid money being a 'human remains disposer' on the dark web, even if 99% of it rots in a random crypto account LOL. he only does it for the meat, but ykw.

you would have to meet him through one of the other creeps or the dark web thing(but that implies ur not a normal civilian so ill skip that..). depending on who introduces you, it can change his approach - if its someone like toby or jeff, he wont think twice about you in a romantic sense. if its someone like nina or clocky, then he might silently listen to your voice and let his mind wander to a nice little life in the cabin with you - but like everyone else, youd have to be the one making advances. even if you confess, he'll gently let you down - regardless of his interest in you. "it just wouldnt work, you deserve good things, i couldnt do that to you" etc etc. but he wouldnt be able to coldly turn you away, every bit of rejection makes it clear he doesnt mean it - WHICH SUCKS. hurts to say n hurts to hear.

but by that point, if the relationship progresses, then youre good there. LOL. nothing else you can find out - to date jack, you need to know everything and be okay with it already. so yay :3

FOR THE INFECTED...

clocky. ok finally someone easier than the proxies or jack. but not easy... clocky isnt exactly against dating, but her standards are very high. one wrong sentence and shes not going to entertain you. her guard is up so , so , so very high and all she wants is to protect her peace, not entertain someone who wont make her life better - even though shes friends with a buncha weirdos who complicate it more, but whatever.

if its by time she's in her tattoo apprenticeship, she's not so opposed to just...getting lunch or coffee with someone. talking, going on a walk, buying them lunch, listening to their day. she sees beauty in the mundane, so she likes to observe mannerisms of someone if she's on a date(but she's prob not even sure its a date) and it would stress her out later on. LOL. she's so focused on her independence and building a life for herself, so it's stressful for her - but she wouldnt take it out on you. she's big on respect, and if you've been good enough to her to reach this point, then she's nver gonna disrespect you by ignoring you or speaking down on you or pretending you're unimportant.

its very easy for her to hide the whole proxy-slendy stuff, luckily. she's long been healed of O/S syndrome and since slendy didnt want her to be a proxy, she's just...living life. she comes to the proxy cabin, helps with hunting, the algoids, etc - so its very , very easy to hide that part of her life. but if it causes issues, and you're already dating, and you bring it up respectfully, she'll gently apologise and insist itll be different - and it will be, she doesnt make empty promises.

BUT if you somehow find out, then she. ok two paths. she'll break back into the scared girl she used to be and snap at you, getting aggressive, push you away, completely shut you out - somehow blame you for getting involved. or she'll just. let you go silently. no fighting, no begging, no lashing out. just let you go - but then she'd freak out to the proxies, esp toby. "you fucking assholes keep taking and taking and taking from me"

nina is easy to fall for and she's easy to fall in love. you could meet her in any situation, really , and either one of you could be the first to pursue eachother. and i. ok i cant say shes a good girlfriend. she's erratic, hypocrytical, jealous, clingy, etc - it sucks sometimes, but she can be really good provided the chance.

similar to clocky, very easy for her to hide everything - biggest issue would be her inability to keep a secret. she likes to brag and share parts of her life with everyone, so she's always talking about her "totatlly badass friends in the forest" and insisting she sees ghosts, demons, etc - which i mean. shes being honest. thats up to you if you believe her

if you find out everything, she completely expects you to be normal about it. cos why r u being weird she told you already, right?

which is why she'd freak if you took that as a reason to break up. like toby, she's gonna beg - and if she keeps begging, she'll start to hate you. it sucks and theres not much i can write abt her here cos its very straight forward - she wouldnt hide it very well, youd find out, and she expects you to stay and be normal.

jane ...doesnt interact much with the proxies. her biggest tie to the supernatural is sally, which is the only reason she has small agreements with them - so honestly. if you two were together long enough and serious enough, she'd sit you down and tell you everything. she isnt the type to lie

dating jane is difficult - this is assumign she never married mary, of course, and even in that timeline, i made mary a highschool friend of hers who took care of her after jeffs attack. if it werent for that bond, jane wouldve been so closed off - esp cos of how dedicated she is to her work.

but if you manage to get with her, she's lovely. takes good care of you, save for her workaholic habits

jeff um. ok. again, you cant date him unless youre already okay with his lifestyle, so there isnt rlly the whole "when they find out, will they leave?" but instead moreso.... "when it gets too much, will they leave?" which. ok. i think if jeff RLLY fell in love with you, like genuinely, he wouldnt kill you obviously. cos he loves you. but he's livid if you suddenly decide its too much. "the fuck you mean its too much? you put up with this bullshit for how long, and now youre giving up?" etc etc. doessnt understand why youd do that to him, especially cos he thinks hes doing really good

which. ok, good is subjective, and jeff isnt ever gonna be perfect to any extent, but again, regardless of his massive ego and other. issues. if he loves you, he's gonna try - he wants to be around you, wants to hear your laugh, etc. but it takes a lot of effort from him, even if it feels like bare minimum. which isnt good, but that explains why he gets so angry about it - and at the very least, even if he agrees to break up, he's not agreeing to letting go fully . still expects you to hang out, text, call, talk. not good

[moonlight-prose]

PICK YOUR POISON

➻ 01. ATROPA BELLADONNA

a/n: the october season calls for me to delve into the grotesque and gothic story ideas i save up year round. so that's what this is! i love the idea of logan howlett stuck with an immortal reader. but there's a twist. our lovely reader isn't a mutant, but someone cursed to live life in the worst way possible. i hope you enjoy the small journey these two go on and happy spooky season!

summary: life as a lumberjack gives him the freedom to pretend he's human. that he hasn't lived enough lives to leave him withered and weary. ready for the grave that will never come. until he happens upon an unmarked grave in the middle of the forest and his life changes forever.

word count: 4.2k+

pairing: lumberjack!logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: NOT EXPLICIT BUT DARK THEMES AHEAD, gothic themes, horror, necrophilia (kind of!), death, graves, vomiting, tw: blood, feral reader, poison, immortal!reader, curses, witchcraft of some kind, chance encounters, they're both a little unhinged in this one.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

The forest is silent save for the rhythmic thump of an axe against wood. Life doesn't exist in the small sphere of dead branches and fallen leaves. No bugs, no birds. The wolves hunt elsewhere; the prey have all but abandoned a place where death permeates the air.

What was nature to do when someone so unnatural had been laid to rest?

He knew he was too far from the predetermined area. The yellow tape was marked for trees ready to be chopped down. But the sound of the men laughing about some bar they found had set his teeth on edge—a rush of anger from deep in his chest now resurfacing quicker than he liked.

Some days were better than others. Some days he could join in on the laughter, make simple conversation, and pretend to be normal.

Other days he felt the clawing urge to bite and snap and dig his claws into flesh rear in his head. Try as he might, he couldn't ignore that unhinged sensation. Even if he wanted to. On those days he preferred to be alone. Away from humanity, separate from what they wanted from him.

They saw him as a man.

Not an animal.

That should be enough to appease his restless spirit; give him some peace after so much chaos.

His teeth ground together in his clenched mouth, sweat sticking to the back of his neck despite the cold weather. The axe felt like an extension of his arms. Hacking away at the base of a tree he knew would make enough noise to draw attention once it tipped. That didn't deter him from repeating his swing. From baring his teeth and growling through it in order to dig out what calm he could.

The blade wedged itself halfway into the bark before he heard it. The stifled scream of a woman. His body went stiff, head whipping around to see if someone had followed him. The instincts from before—days spent as a soldier still burned into his nerves—began to overtake his senses as another muffled scream pierced his eardrums.

He left the axe behind, heart thumping an unsteady beat in his chest as he made for the forest. Trees blocked what little sunlight poured through dense clouds; the air a murky fog that chilled his lungs with each breath. He could taste the sap dripping off tree bark on the tip of his tongue—his mind clinging to the edge of sanity as he moved.

Twigs snapped beneath his boots, leaves cracked with the weight of his body, but Logan couldn't think about moving silently. Someone was getting hurt. He could practically smell their fear. The heady coagulated tang of blood spilled over the forest floor.

"Hello?" he called out, emerging through the thicket of branches.

A small clearing gave way to what little light remained in the afternoon. Petrichor lingered in the pockets of clear air, familiar enough to set his earlier anxieties aside. Fall in Canada shepherded rain forward with a heavy hand.

He knew the woods would be soaked come morning. Any signs of life lost to the pelting drops of rain that dragged hail right alongside it.

His feet stopped at the edge of freshly packed dirt, a shovel tossed to the side with a dent in the metal large enough to resemble the size of a skull. Sucking in air, the hair rose on the back of his neck when the shriek sounded again. Pained. Anguished. As if someone was fighting to claw their way to the surface.

"Fuck," he gasped, dropping to one knee—fingers burrowing in the moist soil and heaving it over to the side. "I'm here. I've got ya!"

Another muffled cry filtered through the layers of dirt as he dug with heaving breaths. Sweat prickled along his forehead, dripping down his temple. The brine of salt dripping onto the already muddy area. What hope he could grasp onto began to slip through his fingers; now dragged beneath the surface of an already haunted forest.

Logan stumbled back when a hand shot through the dirt, piercing the ground by his foot. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide as an arm appeared, fingers grasping for leverage in the loose topsoil. He'd never experienced terror before. True fear that lingered in the bottom of his chest, echoing a solemn tune he wanted to rip from his flesh. But the sight of someone clinging to life filled his lungs with water.

You could feel it. The dirt and stones that packed themselves beneath your nails, slicing open what remained of the once pretty nail bed. It happened later this time. Took longer than you expected. Crimson blood mixed with the black soil as you vomited what stuffed itself into your lungs; the impacted earth was too heavy for your body to hold onto and thus the result remained the same.

Somehow it felt worse each time.

A cry of agony pierced the brume—splitting open the silence that could no longer exist. And with another heave, you managed to free yourself from a shitty dug grave with barely enough dirt to cover.

Sucking in a lungful of air, you collapsed to the ground. Body nude and streaked with mud. You couldn't tell which parts of you were sliced open this time around, could barely make out the color of the trees through the thick layer of fog. But the leather brown boots two feet away caught your attention instantly.

With a whimper, you lifted your head—eyes latched onto the broad man above you who looked ready to lose his breakfast, or join you on the ground. Perhaps both with the way his paled face stilled at the sight of you.

Of course, the time it took to return would fuck up your plans for solitude. Of course, you would have company at the worst possible moment.

This part was never easy.

"Hi," you meekly rasped, voice entirely gone from how many times you screamed.

Harrowing silence became the space that hung between your body and his. You curled your toes to force the blood back down through your veins. Hands holding an unsteady shake that would take a good hour to dissipate. You began to notice the color of his flannel—a deep umber with lines of brown. The scent of cedar permeating the air; sap a thick sweetness you could practically taste in the back of your throat.

Senses took a few moments to return back to their original vigor. Yet you couldn't allow yourself to slip into the you from twelve hours ago.

Not when the man still watched you, eyes overflowing with dread. You wondered if he was real. Would he flinch if you swung a fist at his shin? Or was your dilapidated mind conjuring him in a hallucinatory haze you'd eventually break free from.

Pushing yourself up on trembling limbs, you managed to contort your half paralyzed body into a sitting position. The feeling would return to your numb core; the steady drip of life slowly seeping back into your veins the longer you remained still.

Movement seemed to puncture a hole in his stupefied mind—yanking him back to reality. He dropped to one knee with a heavy exhale. "Who the fuck did this to you?"

You wanted to laugh. You nearly did laugh.

How were you meant to tell this complete stranger that you in fact...did this to yourself?

"Are you cold?" he asked as if you still held the capability to speak.

When it became clear you had no intention of offering him any sort of explanation, he promptly cussed under his breath. Hands stripping off the brown leather jacket that hung over his clearly muscled form. You tried to shake your head, hoping he'd get the hint and simply leave you alone.

The cold didn't harm your already frozen skin. Not when a rush of blood coursed through you—pumping an unhealthy amount of adrenaline back to your now racing heart.

He draped the heavy fabric over you anyways, securing it to cover what skin he could. His eyes fixed on the side of your face. What a goddamn gentleman. Hilarity of this entire situation flickered brightly in your mind, forcing a jolt through your body that had him rearing back a few inches.

He must not be used to the sight of someone coming back from the dead.

No one would be. Unless they understood your current predicament.

"Do you have someone I can call?"

Again...silence became all that lingered in your mirrored confusion. You pleasantly discovered that you liked the sound of his voice. He felt his stomach churn with the eggs he scarfed down an hour and a half ago. Oh what a hapless pair you made. Two strangers bound in this tight knit bond of befuddlement.

"Can you speak?" He pushed for you to give him something.

You nodded, trailing the curve of his jaw with your gaze. If you had to guess his profession, you'd pick lumberjack. That made the most sense as to why he found himself standing at the foot of your grave trying to help you escape it.

Although you supposed he might have just been on a stroll through the woods; seeking time to himself. An escape from the busy world above ground. You peered into his clouded hazel eyes - plucking what you could from her expressions alone. This was a man who didn't seem drastically horrified by the sight of you coming back to life. Rather lost in murky thoughts of how.

Again the aforementioned question you loathed answering left his plush lips.

"Who did this to you?"

Sighing, you felt the blood begin to rush to your legs, a tingle of awareness entering your system. You were coming back from the state of rigor mortis. Which meant that stick around here would no longer be an option. As much as you were inclined to entertain the idea of getting to know him, the reality was far too bleak for him to accept.

He was a mere human, you were something else. It would never work.

“What’s your name?”

Agitation clearly lined his nerves the longer he crouched beside you. He’d never receive the knowledge he wanted, never get to the bottom of this otherwise grueling mystery. The longer you stayed, the harder it would be to leave. Putting him out of his misery now was the only option you had.

The only one that might guarantee his safety.

“Please. Let me help you.” His sincerity struck your heart, causing it to twist until the jagged edge of pain spread through your entire body.

They always sounded this way.

Hopeful. Intrigued.

Too many people, too many broken souls.

The path of your existence was littered with unsalvageable pieces of those you allowed to wander into your life. You refused to say goodbye to someone who clutched your love too tightly. Who never understood what this meant—the horrid depth of what you were forced to endure. You’d never be able to find freedom in love, never find hope that things might one day be different.

Eventually your curse would kill them in the end. And you—the sole survivor—would be left to pick up the fragmented shards of your armored walls.

With a pained groan you stumbled to your feet—legs shaking like a fucking fawn right after birth. He shot up beside you, hands outstretched in case you collapsed. But after so many years, you’d grown used to the sensations of a body that fought against you. The sight of him made you grin; a man so large, so imposing, somehow looked small compared to your mangled body.

Oh, how you’d remember him.

Tucking his kindness into the depths of your heart—fondly looking at it more often than you’d ever admit.

Dragging the leather jacket off your shoulders—much to his dismay—you tucked it back into his grasp. For a brief moment, you traced the shape of his eyes with your gaze. Solidifying the hazel in your mind, the hints of dark umber speckled through the iris. Eyes that would haunt you for years to come.

You wanted to ask what caused him such anguish—what had he been through—to hold an unfathomable amount of grief in eyes so tender.

“Thank you,” you whispered, the unbearable scratch in your throat dissipating the longer you were alive.

“Wait–”

With surprising quickness, you walked past him, trembling with each step. Your stomach gnawed at your insides—the vacant sensation in your body determined your next course of action. Where you were heading with no need for direction.

This wasn’t unusual. Hours spent in the ground was bound to force your body to find its sustenance one way or another. Even if you weren’t technically alive. The adrenaline would wane, leaving you rattled—in a panic about the way your soul plunged into an infinite expanse of darkness. A place with no path.

Over the decades you managed to get a handle on your body;s tells. The routine it formulated to deal with the ancient magic coursing through your veins. Sparks of a past self never to be touched again; no matter how much you bargained.

Heavy footsteps trailed after you, entirely unaware that silence wasn’t his forte. He still clutched the jacket aimlessly, unaware that the temperature dropped rapidly the longer he remained outside. You’d grown used to the behaviors of men who found you. Their incessant need to follow, to see if they could get away with what they wanted.

The same fucking song and dance; a battle you learned to evade swiftly and without mercy.

You stuck to the carved pathway created by your own footsteps trekking the same ground over the span of many years. Those who worked this deep in the forest rarely stuck around to find out who dared to live this far away from humanity. Many assumed an old psychotic woman, man, or spirit, resided in the run-down cabin.

Others whispered of a witch cursed to roam in darkness for all eternity.

Though both were merely myths spread by bored townsfolk.

You often wondered what they would do if they found out that neither strayed far from the actual truth.

Each year that came and went people dared themselves to check—to see for themselves if the stories held a bit of authenticity to them. They more often than not, left scared out of their wits at the sight of a naked woman trailing dirt in across the threshold of an archaic home.

Your shadow persisted in his personal mission—five feet away, lumbering through the silent forest like a bear with no real direction. Scaring him off should have been your first priority. You knew the longer you sanctioned this behavior the harder it’d be to get him to fuck off.

Although you couldn’t deny the instantaneous attachment you felt for a man with such a tortured soul.

Perhaps some part of yourself could see the fragments that went missing harbored in his heart.

Like a fool, you continued on the familiar trail—giving yet another aimless person leeway in your life. Regret hung heavy in your heart—a promise of what would inevitably come to pass screaming in the icy air.

Your breath forms a cloud with each puff; the exertion far too much for your freshly revived body to handle. Later when you were adjusted once more, the remorse would return within each stiff joint that pleaded for an ounce of rest. Whether you wanted to partake in the act never remained up to you—rather an inescapable future that awaited you with open arms.

The cabin stood on the remnants of an old cemetery. Bits of cracked stones that once housed names were scattered around the front. Moss clung to walls built of worn in bricks that had seen better days. You liked each part of your home. The haunting beauty that kept others out, gave you the solace you needed on days like this. Here you could pretend you were a normal person, not someone stuck with the scars of wounds that never remained.

Of pain you held no proof of.

The path was lined with plants of varying species. None of them should have survived the weather in Canada, yet like you they persisted.

Just as fucking stubborn and determined to remain alive.

Kicking a loose stone over, you reached for the rusting iron key lodged into damp dirt. The man stopped speaking long before he followed you here. Probably coming to the same conclusion they all did. You were not going to listen to a single thing that came out of his mouth.

You had to hand it to him. He knew where he stood in a situation like this—given your relatively calm exterior.

The door creaked with a weathered groan as you pushed it open. A bag of grave dirt hung on a nail in the wall to your left, an old shovel stood propped against the entryway, and a trail of dried herbs were suspended from the ceiling. You inhaled the scent of home with a grin; finally at ease within the place you knew well. A line of hooks held blankets for this very situation—heavy wool lined coats beside them.

Instead of grabbing one, you reached for what was still tucked in the pocket. The thud of his boots against the front step echoed loud in your ear. That seemed to be all you needed to hear the warning bells signal in the back of your mind. Allowing him to shadow you had been fun, but the truth still glared in your direction.

You didn’t know this man—you never would.

Better safe than sorry.

Spinning your heel, you jammed the silver dagger against his throat, forcing him to stumble back. His hands clutched at your wrists, eyes wide with the shock of what just happened. You didn’t want to admit that a small part of you liked seeing him this way. Yet no fear could be found in the darkened hazel. Merely a hint of concern—pity.

That only served to piss you off. He dared to follow you home, thinking he could enter your house without permission. In such a case as this you faced him with the fire that fueled your inhumane rage. The match struck against your heart, igniting sparks that existed long before he was ever born.

“You’re not welcome here,” you spit, eyes narrowed and lips pulled into a snarl.

He held every right to look at you as if you were a feral animal he accidentally cornered. You knew you resembled one. Right down to your hackles being raised—bloodlust burning in your glare. If he wasn’t careful, he would wind up with a split open throat and you’d have one hell of a mess to clean.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he murmured.

“You followed me home.”

Swallowing thickly, Logan felt an old familiar ache rise in his chest at the sight of you. He’d been where you stood once. Desperate to be left alone; angry at a world who abandoned him. The thought of you believing the worst in him left bile climbing the back of his throat, shame burning hot in his stomach.

“Just wanted to see if you were okay.”

You grinned yet a dullness remained at the center of your eyes. “I’m alive. You can go.”

“You crawled out of a grave,” he growled.

Only to be met with one of your own. “No shit.”

“You live alone.” The knife pressed down against his skin, red welling to the surface in an instant. “Who put you there?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.”

You held no reservations against cutting him open. You’d done it before and would do it again in a heartbeat. Logan could see that clear as day. This wasn’t about him attempting to help. He’d surpassed that half a mile ago when you began to walk it off like you knew what was happening. And perhaps he was stupid to keep standing there in a pathetic attempt to tame you.

But he needed to know what happened.

Simply for the sake of his own sanity.

“I won’t hurt you bub,” he echoed, releasing your wrists with a soft exhale. “That’s not why I came.”

The anger dulled like the blade of your knife at the sound of his voice. Putting your faith in someone to uphold their words wasn’t something you excelled at. In fact, you found it was easier to bite first before you even bothered to bark at them. A feral animal who held no sense of safety—who thrived in bitter chaos and would until the very end.

But for the first time…you found yourself unable to fight against someone who stood before you like a mirror from a past life. The anguish in his eyes resembled your own. A fractured window that spilled light along the darkness, even if it didn’t belong. Even if you were born to exist in the vacant nothingness they put you in.

“Help me out here,” he murmured.

Before you could silence it, you laughed. Short and stunted and still layered in the gritty rasp from earlier.

“Fuck you.”

He sighed, stepping forward—his throat opening even further. You expected him to flinch, cuss loud enough to scare the varying corvid that often perched in the trees, but all that remained was that damn sincerity. The echo of a man who you somehow understood exactly what ran through your mind even before you let him in on the secret.

Logan kept his eyes locked on yours, even when his body screamed for something else. He wasn’t a stranger to having a blade to his throat, nor to violence in general. But even with the intent of killing him clear in your gaze, he knew something else stirred beneath the surface of your mind. He latched onto the quick pace of your heart, clamoring for a deeper look behind the walls of your impenetrable armor.

“I know what it’s like.” Your eyes went wide for a brief second before you resumed your previous stance. That remained enough for Logan to feel he touched on exactly the right thing.

“You don’t know anything.”

“Believe me bub,” he retorted, lips curling into a half-hearted grin. “I know what not dying feels like. Even if you want to.”

The breath was punched from your lungs, body going still as the waves of disbelief washed over you. He grasped your wrist gently, prying the knife from his throat, and you watched his skin stitch itself back together. The only remnants of your violent act was left in a stain of red he promptly wiped off.

You had half a mind to try again. Test the proof he so blatantly showed you without an ounce of shame. He seemed to catch onto your interest quicker than you expected—his palm spreading wide beneath yours and hand forcing the blade along his skin. A gasp fell past your lips at the sight of his body healing rapidly—the cut nonexistent within seconds.

Logan felt pride pierce his chest. Unfamiliar and yet entirely welcome.

“How…”

“I’ll explain it bub,” he uttered, drawing your attention back to him. “If you tell me the truth.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

He huffed, moving close enough to feel the warmth emanate from your bare skin. “I’m pretty good at spottin’ bullshit. Someone put you in that grave.”

“Yes.” Blindly you reached for a jacket behind you, slipping it on as his eyes took in the small bits of your home he could see. “I did.”

His head snapped back to you, lips set in a firm line. “What do you mean you did?”

“It’s a long story.” You waved your hand as you tied the jacket’s belt around your waist.

“I got enough time to hear it.”

Turning back towards the entryway of your home, you didn’t bother to bite back the smile that bloomed across your face. Somewhere in the back of your mind the voices of years past shrieked in horror at the choices made in the past hour.

How could you drag another soul into the darkness? Torture them with the duress of your life—of what you were forced to endure. Was it merely to appease the growing ache of loneliness that gnawed at your heart. A constant hunger you could never satiate.

He didn’t deserve what came next.

No one did.

But you were a selfish person who had tolerated far too much—who gave up every piece of your heart to keep others safe. For years you claimed you were better off alone. Only for the sight of his ability to fracture that part of yourself in two, burying it in a shallow grave with the hopes of no resurrection.

One day you’d come to regret your choice. You always did.

Tonight however you would give yourself this. Time spent in the company of another, even if it might end in a tragic disaster.

“Would you like some dinner?” you asked over your shoulder, too afraid of what his response might be.

His lips pulled into a grin as he crossed the threshold of your home—placing his jacket on the now vacant hook. “I’d love some.”

note: i handwrote a giant portion of this & proceeded to type it on my brother's laptop. so if there's mistakes forgive that. i don't have a laptop rn and i'm working with literal scraps.

[mask-of-prime]

TLG: Final 10 Episodes Sketch Dump

September 2nd once again fell on a Labor Day, like it once did when the final 10 episodes of TLG dropped on WatchTLG (due to its early release on the old DisneyNOW app). The alignment of the exact day, month, and holiday five years later put me in the spirit to sketch away as I rewatched these episodes.

I was there when the countdown on the WatchTLG site had about an hour left. I hadn't seen a full episode of TLG until that point because I at the time thought I wouldn't be into it. I saw the synopses for these episodes leaked somewhere online and was doubtful yet VERY hopeful that the one with Vitani's Lion Guard was going to be a real episode simply because I wanted to see her in new content, regardless of my familiarity with the show.

When I binge-watched these final episodes with a friend, my relationship with the show improved as I went to watch the rest of the show over the next few months. I was so grateful to see so much content and worldbuilding for the TLK universe

Sketch descriptions under the cut:

1. Friends to the End

I've said this before in a review of this episode, but whether or not the writers intended this, their portrayal of irritability brought on by an anxiety attack is astounding. Kion's anxiety is piled up more and more when he's in a hurry to find a cure at the Tree of Life, Bunga repeatedly tells him he's becoming like Scar, and the rest of the group just "blind leading the blind"-in their journey SO badly because they're a bunch of unsupervised freshman-aged kids who are in their "Well I wouldn't go THAT far" or "Can I be the devil's advocate" phase.

This situation of fearing becoming like a shitty family member and being told you are by people when you're already in a vulnerable state is just SO vile and unfortunately so real. I found myself relating hard to this episode due to Kion's valid af anger in this episode, which is why I had to draw Kion claiming his "Don't you just wanna go apeshit??" era.

Kion is basically me throughout this episode and the entire first half of Season 3. It is SO HARD to get through this season sometimes when these same couple of lines keep coming at least once per episode. As soon as I hear Fuli saying "Uhh... Kion?" or "KION!!" I know exactly what's coming.

2. The Tree of Life:

Since we never get to see Sahasi and Ananda's color palettes they had in life, I took what I could make out from their spirit forms as well as some creative liberties, and came up with what they may have looked like on Earth.

Ananda is where Baliyo gets his freckles and dull, dark pelt, and where Rani gets her purple pupils, red nose, and dark tail. Sahasi is where Rani gets her richer pelt and where Baliyo gets his nose gradient, multicolored mane, and lighter tail color.

Fun Fact: According to some email responses from a member of the team who worked on TLG, they said that Sahasi was meant to be Janna's son, which for me, puts an end to a debate I had in my head where I was stuck between either him or Ananda being Janna's child: On one hand, I liked the idea of Sahasi and Surak being the foils of Mufasa and Scar, but also liked the idea of Ananda as Janna's daughter and heir since they looked so alike, as well as it solidifying the martriarchy headcanon I have for the Night Pride. Though the team member didn't straight-up provide Sahasi's relation to Janna and Surak as an absolute fact, rather it was simply the gist they got from the creation of Sahasi's character, it's an answer from a team member at all, which I can absolutely settle with. I decided to give him a similar fur color to Surak because of that.

3. The River of Patience:

I just HAD to doodle eepy Kion. It's like the one part of this episode that sticks with me outside the wholesome therapy dynamics and Kion heroically holding the flower between his teeth. This is basically him but if he fully succumbed to falling asleep waiting for the log.

4. Little Old Ginterbong:

Can I just say that I fucking LOVE Mama Binturong's character?? She's absolutely insane and constantly looks like an addict that needs her fix. She makes me nostalgic for some reason, and I think it's gotta do with her Mama Gunda vibes (which is odd because I wasn't even that young when I saw Tarzan II). I had to draw her doing the thing lol

5. Poa the Destroyer:

All I could think about throughout this episode besides the rare Evil Beshte is how insufferable Pinguino is. I mean it in kind of a good way, his personality is so ridiculous that he's made me laugh a few times.

6. Long Live the Queen:

Surprisingly, the sketch regarding this episode is probably the least expected subject matter out of anything I could've put here: An idea that's been forming in my head for a bit now was the idea of Bunga and Binga continuing the fostering/babysitting business of Bunga's "uncles". Bunga is shown to be a natural with young animals in a few episodes, and it continues in the subplot of this episode where he watches over Varya's cubs.

7. The Lake of Reflection:

The one thing that viscerally stuck with me in this episode was the unbelievably cute design they gave bby Cheezi. Had to sketch him.

8. Triumph of the Roar:

Obligatory Askari sketch because I actually love drawing him and making headcanons of his era. Looking back... he kinda looks like he's looking down at the events of the bottom drawing in slight disappointment.

9. Journey to the Pride Lands:

Drew Azaad (for what I think might be the first time) with the only thing he seemed to be doing throughout this episode -- taking any opportunity he can to comment about how much better cheetahs are at basically everything. He's fun to draw and I'd like to do more art of him one day.

10. Return to the Pride Lands

This is a sketch of what I deadass thought was gonna happen during this scene the first time I saw this episode lmao. At the time, the previous two episodes were fresh on my mind so I thought Kion was once again going to spam his tornado ability, but with Vitani as his subject for his demonstration. She already knew so little of the Roar as it was, given her absence throughout most of TLG's storyline, but could you imagine what she must've been thinking seeing how much Kion's Roar evolved?

[xx-riffraff-xx]

𓇼 ~ The Sea Swallowed Him Whole ~ 𓇼

premise; It's the anniversary of Lemuria's fall. Rafayel isn't handling it well. Companion piece to 'Forsaken Treasures of the Sea.'

warnings; suicidal ideation, kind of suicide attempt, heavy angst, hurt/some comfort, bittersweet ending, VERY sad, potentially OOC, timeline inaccuracies, drowning or hope of drowning, attempt at symbolism. neither you nor rafayel are harmed long-term or die.

a/n; once again, i have no idea where this monster came from. my brain told me "hurt fishboy." and i said "okay guess we're hurting fishboy now." might wanna prepare the tissues. hope you enjoy!

Rafayel is on the beach again. Lukewarm waves curl around his ankles, pulling the sand beneath his feet to drag him back to the depths of the sea. The saltwater soaked through his clothes up to his waist where he sits. The moon is drawing the tide in. His shirt is sticking awkwardly to his waist.

He can’t keep his thoughts away from the day Lemuria fell. How could he pick between you and his home? They were linked, connected, one could not exist without the other. In his hesitation to tear Mo apart, he lost both. The evacuation was swift, but not swift enough. Lives were lost. It is his fault. The waves washed away the blood on his hands, but he feels pieces of their souls stuck in his teeth.

Rafayel is on the beach again. The darkness hadn’t claimed many of his people, the response was quick enough. The people closest to him were able to swim away. Now, it’s his job to aid in protecting everyone on the mainland. He’s never wanted responsibility, always swam in the opposite direction as fast as the current could take him. Maybe he’s grown into it.

He’s so tired. It’s late. The sea has drawn him deeper, she demands justice. Heavy cotton hangs from his shoulders. Sand melts into glass underneath his fingers. Time-softened seashells bear his marks. He skips a smooth seashell sculpture across the water’s surface. The ripples bear the name of each Lemurian he couldn’t save.

The sea swallows him whole. Rip currents are common around this time. His body could be miles from shore before anyone could think to look for him. The sea will punish him as she wills. She is a caring, violent mother. Her children are no stranger to her wrath. She knows what he deserves.

Rafayel feels the current yank at his feet where he floats at the same time he feels warm hands pulling him from the water. The tide had taken many hours to swallow him, marked by the moon’s position above the horizon. The salt dampened the angry flame in his heart. Its absence feels like burning alive.

Gentle hands guide him out of the sea. A trail of pearls leads away from the shoreline. Soft towels dry his vessel. Slowly, he dresses in the dry clothes given to him. He is surrounded by warmth. It is too hot with the fire burning under his skin. Under the covers, his back is pressed to someone’s chest. The hours spent waiting for the sea to claim him feel like a dream.

“Rafayel?” Your shaky voice breaks the silence. He feels your worry like his own. He uses your name when he answers. “Why did I find you catatonic in the tides?”

“It was... a momentary lapse in judgement. Today is an anniversary.” He responds tonelessly. He does not intend to answer any more questions. After all, you don’t remember anything from all those years ago. If you did, the guilt would consume you, your compassion weaponized against you. He fears he’ll reach for your hand to find your skin grey and lifeless, the scavengers brought in by the tides feasting on your long-dead corpse.

You don’t ask any other questions. Unlike you. Instead, you take Rafayel back to the beach. The soft sand slips beneath your feet. Warmth from your hand spreads up his arm. Smells of brine and salt and Mo waft in on the sea breeze. The draw to the sea holds him hostage, trapped like Jonah in the mouth of the whale.

Your warmth fades as you roll up your pants. Without pausing, without hesitation, you wade into the tide. The waves wash up to your shins. The wind tussles your hair, humidity and salt frizzing it into curls. Rafayel’s throat closes, his lungs squeezed of all air. The sea is a caring, violent mother. The sea will take your heart after he could not.

He rushes into the waves after you. “What are you doing!?” He demands, pulling you out of the clawing reach of the currents that threaten to take you from him. You splash out of the ocean’s reach willingly.

Once out of the lapping water, you resist Rafayel. You draw his forehead to your own, holding his face in your hands. “I want to understand you.”

Something dark and ugly rears inside him. His shoulders curl to contain it. “Lemuria fell because I would not sacrifice you. The ocean demands its retribution.”

You fall together to the soft sand, clinging desperately to a fading reality where everything will be okay. “I don’t understand,” you whisper. A deep sigh burdens the space between you. Rafayel does not elaborate further. A soft, alluring hum starts in his chest. You know this melody. You hum along. Your voices mingle against the backdrop of the ocean’s waves.

Rafayel holds your hands in his own. Your bodies drift closer together until neither of you can define where he ends and you begin. Rafayel hums until he cannot anymore. His caring, violent mother will have to accept his voice over his body for retribution this year. The sun rises. The tides retreat in acceptance of Rafayel’s offer.

Rafayel holds you to his chest. You had fallen asleep at some point during his siren song. Your even breaths wear away his jagged edges.

It will be different, but it will be okay.

A little note on Rafayel's references to mo in this fic: I can't remember where I found it in canon, but I believe it means "home" or "motherland" in Lemurian! Hope you enjoyed! (edit: it came from the "Omnipotent Perception" card. thank you to @\irandial for the info!)

[green-eyedfirework]

“No.”

“Bruce—”

“Absolutely not.  Do you have any idea what you’re proposing?”

“It’s not a proposal,” Dick said with a calm he didn’t feel.  He’d already numbed himself to the idea.  “I am not asking you, Bruce.  I’m telling you.”

“I am not letting my son walk straight into the hands of someone who wants him dead,” Bruce snapped, eyes flashing, as he shoved upright from the council table.

“And I,” Dick replied levelly, meeting Bruce’s gaze, “am not letting someone else suffer for a war I caused.”

Bruce shook his head, deflating slightly as his expression pinched.  “You didn’t cause it, Dick,” he said quietly.  “It was a set-up.  You know this.  King Slade knows this.”

Dick’s mouth firmed to a thin line.  It didn’t matter if Slade knew now that his son had been captured by extremists and tortured until he was a weapon aimed at Gotham.  It was still Dick’s sword that had ended his life.  “I killed him,” Dick said softly.  “I killed Prince Grant and Slade will never forget that.”  Never forgive that, never mind the grudging treaty created when Hive’s treachery had come to light.  “I will not let someone else take my place as a target of his rage.”

No one trusted the treaty.  Not in Gotham, not in Defiance.  The hostage exchange was the only thing grounding the flimsy sheet of paper—one noble from Defiance, one noble from Gotham, each with a permanent stay in the other kingdom’s court.

“Dick,” Bruce said slowly, “you’re the Crown Prince.”

“I’ve been removed from the succession,” Dick said, half-shrugging.  “Your advisors won’t let you reinstate me.”  Hot-headed, impetuous, reckless—whatever Bruce believed, Dick had started a war by killing a prince, and several nobles in Gotham had never wanted the son of aerialists to ascend to the throne.

“Dick—”

“You can’t stop me,” Dick crossed his arms.  This was his mess, and he was going to clean it up, whether Bruce liked it or not.

Bruce slumped back into his chair, and buried his head in his hands.  “Dick,” he said quietly, “please.”

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Dick said, equally quiet.  “But I can’t watch someone else take my place.”

Bruce let out a slow, shuddering breath.  Finally, he spoke, “You won’t go as a prince.”

“What?”

“You won’t go as a prince.  Under your real name.  King Slade has never seen you—” That was true, once Bruce had realized why an army was at their border, Dick had been carefully guarded.  “He won’t know who you are.  We can make up a minor noble family for you.  A lordship on the other side of Gotham.”

“But—”

“Dick,” Bruce looked him in the eyes, his face grave and pale.  “He despises you.  And I will not send my son to his death, do you understand?”

Dick nodded mutely, the words ringing in his head.

He despises you.

And Slade had every right to.

~#~

It was safe to say that Slade wasn’t in a good mood.  Hadn’t been in a good mood since he’d received word that his firstborn was dead, and his initial fury had receded to an ever-simmering flame of rage, a perpetual bad temper that sent everyone fleeing.

If he’d had his way, he would’ve razed Gotham to the ground and stuck every member of its royal family on a pike before he stopped.  Unfortunately, King Bruce had managed to find evidence that the terrorist group Hive had been involved, muddying the facts to claim that Prince Richard had merely been acting in self-defense, and it had been enough to sour Slade’s kingdom on a costly war.

So now he was supposed to play nice with the kingdom his son had died in, signing a treaty that wasn’t worth the paper and ink, biding his time until he could have his revenge.  Gotham was sticking to its best behavior for the time being and Prince Richard had vanished after he’d been removed from the line of succession, leaving Slade uselessly seething.

He glared at Wintergreen as he approached the throne.  “Is that it?” he asked, gesturing to the near-empty throne room.  “No petitioners to hear today?”  Very few dared to show up, all of them showing a healthy fear of his temper.

“The Lord of Owlcourt has arrived,” Wintergreen said.  Right.  Their noble hostage.  Slade had sent Drakon to Gotham days ago with careful instructions to watch and listen but do nothing unprovoked.  He doubted that Gotham would give him an easy excuse to go to war, the kingdom wasn’t as cutthroat as its neighbors.

With the exception of its reckless prince.

“And I have to be here for that?”  He didn’t want to greet whatever sacrificial lamb Gotham had sent, he didn’t even want to acknowledge that they existed.  As minor a lord as they could find, most likely, or maybe even a merchant willing to play at being a lord for a generous payout to his family.  According to Wintergreen, Owlcourt had been a royal territory until very recently, which meant that Gotham had magicked this lordship out of thin air.

Wintergreen gave him a sharp look, but didn’t start the long lecture Slade was half-expecting.  Everyone was treating him like he was a piece of fucking glass, and Slade dearly wanted a fight.  Wanted to draw his sword and hack away until everyone that would hurt him, hurt his children, were dead.

In his imaginings, the bodies all had dark hair and golden crowns.

“The Lord of Owlcourt,” the guards announced as they opened the doors, and Slade got his first look at the noble.

Young, younger than Slade had been expecting, dark-haired and light-eyed, expression steady as he flicked his gaze around the room, not shivering or scared.  Slade flicked a glance at Wintergreen to make sure he wasn’t overthinking things.  His steward had his mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowed.

Slade wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a taunt or a deliberate provocation, but if they wanted him to lose his composure, they’d have to try harder than sending a lookalike of their prince.

“Your Majesty,” the lordling dipped into a low bow.  Lower than a lord to a foreign king usually bowed.  The idea that they’d foisted a lordship on some random commoner was looking more and more likely.  “My name is Dick Grayson, and I’m—”

“The Lord of Owlcourt, yes, we did receive the message,” Slade said, cutting him off.  He made no attempt to hide his glower as Grayson straightened.  “Neither of us need to pretend this is anything but what it is.”  His noble hostage could rot in a tower for all Slade cared.  “You will obey our rules.  You will not leave the castle without permission.  You want anything, you will ask Wintergreen and he’ll see if it’s necessary.”  His steward inclined his head as Grayson darted a glance at him.  “If you’re on anything less than your best behavior,” Slade paused, scanning the young lordling’s face.  Wariness aplenty, but no outright fear.  “There will be consequences.”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” Grayson dropped into another bow.  Someone should teach him some etiquette before the whole court figured out he wasn’t a noble.  “Thank you for your hospit—”

Slade got up from the throne and walked out before he could finish.  The pleasantries had been met, and he had no intention of getting closer to a Gotham lord.  Especially not one who looked so similar to the man that killed his son.

This time, when Slade dreamed of destroying his enemies and venting his grief, the corpses looked like the young Lord of Owlcourt.

~#~

Dick had half been expecting them to throw him in the dungeons and was pleasantly surprised when he was led to a room.  Nowhere near as large as his quarters in Gotham, and the simplicity was clearly intended as a slight, but the room had a writing desk and a window, and didn’t seem overly cold.

“Your trunk will be brought up after it’s searched,” the steward said—Wintergreen, Dick remembered, cold eyes watching him with eerie intensity.  “Anything we deem too dangerous to let you have will be destroyed.”

Dick took a breath and nodded.  He hadn’t brought anything valuable with him, had correctly assumed that Defiance wouldn’t treat his possessions with any sort of courtesy.

“It should go without saying, but your best option is to keep your head down,” Wintergreen said sharply.  “Do not test the King’s temper.  War has been narrowly avoided, I suggest you try not to court it again.”

Don’t flinch, Dick chanted mentally in his head.  Wintergreen didn’t know who he was talking to.  Didn’t know how accurate his words really were.

“If there is something you require, you come to me.  You will not be assigned a chaperone or a guard, and you will be stopped if trying to enter a restricted area.  Meals will be served in the Great Hall, the library is open if you wish to read, and the training areas are usually empty in early morning.  You will not be allowed sharpened weapons.”

That was more freedom than Dick had expected.  There weren’t bars on the windows and the door appeared to lock from the inside.

“Do you have any questions?” Wintergreen asked, tone perfunctory.  Dick shook his head, throat still dry from his interaction with the King.

“Very well,” Wintergreen inclined his head.  “Lord Grayson.”  He swept from the room before Dick could breathe through the sting of the title.  No longer a prince.  Never a prince again.

He’d half been prepared for his disguise to fall apart the moment he’d reached the castle’s gates.  The steward’s eyes had narrowed dangerously when he’d seen him, and Dick had seen the way King Slade’s expression had flickered with surprise before cooling.  They might not have seen him before, but clearly they’d heard of his appearance.

He’d thought about dying his hair, but he couldn’t bank on getting the materials to keep it up in Defiance.  His only shield was a name lost to time and the prayer that they wouldn’t put it together.

Dick sank down into the chair and exhaled slowly.

It had worked.

~#~

Unfortunately, the Lord of Owlcourt was a model guest.  He’d made no demur over his sword and dagger being seized, no protest at being forced to file a formal request for every additional piece of furniture for his rooms, no complaint at being ordered to attend every meal in the Great Hall.

The last had been Wintergreen’s idea.  If it was up to Slade, he would’ve locked Grayson in a cell and thrown away the key, but Wintergreen had pointed out that Slade had sworn to treat the hostage with courtesy.

So Grayson had a decent set of rooms in the guest wing, had meals with everyone else, was allowed to roam the castle without fear of retaliation.  It helped that he was an unrecognizable face—Slade didn’t doubt that Grayson had fought in the war, his hands bore sword calluses, but no one in Slade’s court had any personal animosity with the young lordling.

It also helped that the Lord of Owlcourt was charming.

~#~ ~#~

Slade turned back when he reached the door, and had to fight his twitching lips.  Dick had spread out on the bed, curling up in the warmth Slade had left behind, and had pulled the blankets over his head to block out the sun.

Not a morning bird, then, but a cat.  Slade shook his head as he left his room, and refused to call the emotion fondness.  He wasn’t getting fond of the Lord of Owlcourt.

And what if you are? a tiny voice asked in his head.

…And what if he was.  Dick was from Gotham, true, but he would be staying permanently in Slade’s court.  No one had heard of Owlcourt in Defiance, so it wouldn’t ruffle any feathers amongst his court.  And—and Slade couldn’t spend the rest of his life wrapped up in misery.

Dick was amusing, and a challenge.  Smart and fierce and bold.  Good at politics too.  He was everything Slade looked for in a partner, and Slade had to admit that what was supposed to be a temporary relief had turned into a more permanent arrangement.

He recalled the way blue eyes sparkled as Slade pinned Dick to the bed, dark hair ruffled by the pillows—as much as Slade detested the underhandedness of the Waynes, Slade wouldn’t have gotten this if they hadn’t tried to provoke him.

For a moment, Slade tried to imagine what it would’ve been like if they’d actually sent over Prince Richard.  If Slade, or someone else, didn’t kill him, Richard would’ve probably spent the entire time locked up in his rooms, perhaps plotting how to murder the rest of them in their sleep.  There was certainly no way they would’ve ended up sleeping together.

The very thought was ridiculous.  As if Prince Richard would’ve ever—

“I volunteered.”

“My cousin.  She’s a tutor for the youngest prince.”

“I learned swordsmanship from the very best, Your Majesty.”

Slade came to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

No.

That was—impossible.

No one would ever—

Dick, on his knees, almost trembling, and the snarl of what did they teach in Gotham, that he thought Slade would ever do such a thing forestalled by his fury for the young lordling, what kind of royal family sent someone to sacrifice everything for their mistakes?

“The King is a good man,” Dick sighed, “And his family are good people.”

“It’s my duty,” Dick said quietly, “For my kingdom.”

My.

My.

But no king would ever send his heir as hostage if there was another choice.  No father would ever send his son to someone who wanted him dead.

Slade was being ridiculous.  Dick was just a noble’s bastard son with a passing resemblance to the Crown Prince of Gotham.

…Dick was a short form of Richard.

~#~

“It’s a pity,” Slade said softly, “That we don’t have Prince Richard to explain away this one too.”

The courtiers laughed.  Dick didn’t.

Slade was staring directly at him.

~#~ ~#~

Dick laced his fingers around the cup, and took another sip.  It was refreshing.  It was water.  It was something to do that wasn’t looking up at Slade, because he didn’t think he could handle looking up at Slade right now.

He’d been ready, when he approached the castle, for his paper-thin disguise to fall apart.  For Slade to kill him where he stood, and know that at least in death he kept his kingdom safe.  He—he had not been prepared to watch Slade’s face twist into hate after softening, after he knew what Slade looked like grinning sharp and victorious, or solemn, or sleepily content with the early morning sun splayed over his face.  It…hurt.

Dick took another small sip of water.  The cup was already three-quarters empty.  He wasn’t sure how much longer he could drag this out.

The door opened again, and Dick’s fingers tightened on the cup.  The boots in front of him jerked, and turned to face the newcomer, but Dick didn’t look up.  It wouldn’t make a difference.

“Wintergreen,” Slade said flatly, sounding both confused and displeased at once.

“Slade,” the steward answered in the same flat tone, “And here I was half-expecting he’d already be dead.”

Dick raised his head, bewildered.  The way Wintergreen had said that—

“You knew?”  Oh, Slade sounded furious now.  “Since when?”

Wintergreen didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by his king’s agitation, instead studying Dick as Slade growled.  “A week or so after his arrival.  Before you, I wager.”  Dick’s stomach twisted—how long had Slade known?  Dick hadn’t noticed any sudden difference in him, anything to suggest that he knew Dick was the person that had killed his son.

Before sleeping with him?

After?

“How?” Slade demanded.

“I already told you of my findings regarding Owlcourt,” Wintergreen said mildly, “But if he was some merchant’s son or a farmer, no amount of drilling in manners would’ve been able to replicate being raised a noble.  So that must mean he’s a noble.  But then why hide his real title, why give him some random royal territory?”  Wintergreen shrugged lightly, “If he looks so much like the prince, then perhaps he is the prince.”

“And you didn’t tell me,” Slade bit back.  Dick took another quiet sip of water.

“No, Slade, I didn’t tell you, because you would’ve killed him,” Wintergreen snapped back, “And started another war, hostage or not, by murdering Gotham’s Crown Prince.”

“I’m not,” rang out into sudden silence.  Dick winced, but—but he couldn’t stay silent forever.  “I’m not the Crown Prince,” he said quietly.

Slade and Wintergreen were both staring at him now.  Dick fought the urge to hide.

“We just went over this,” Slade began, but Dick cut him off.

“No, not—I was the Crown Prince.  I’m not anymore.”

Slade narrowed his eyes, but it was Wintergreen who spoke.  “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“The council,” Dick explained, “One of their conditions was that my adoption be revoked.”  Bruce had been furious, but his court had agreed that it was an elegant solution—if a prince had not slaughtered a prince, the consequence would never have been war—and by that time, Dick had already made up his mind to go so it had been a moot point.  “So I’m not.  A prince or a Wayne.  I—Owlcourt is a royal territory, yes, but I have a claim to it, through my great-grandfather.  My name was Grayson, before Bruce adopted me.  It—wasn’t a lie.”

Slade and Wintergreen were staring at him, silent.  Dick swallowed, and bowed his head.

“But it’s a deliberate omission,” Dick said quietly, “I understand why you’re angry.”  Still two sips of water left in the cup, but Dick put it down, before shifting forward to fold onto his knees.  “Killing me won’t start a war,” Dick almost whispered, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Another stretching silence, before boots came closer.  “Out of curiosity,” Slade said, his voice level, “How long did you think you’d get away with it?”

Dick—didn’t know.  There had always been an end date in sight.  All he could do was push it another day away.  “Hopefully long enough that tensions would’ve died down,” Dick said quietly, because he was still a hostage, and if Slade killed him without provocation, the treaty would be in turmoil.  Too soon after the war, and angry, grieving people might seize the opportunity to attack again.

Slade made an irritated sound.  “I’m not going to kill you,” he snapped, one boot nudging his knee, “Get up.”

Dick processed the order before he processed the statement, so he stuttered halfway up, nearly falling back down before he recovered and straightened fully.  Slade wasn’t looking at him, but his face was set in a glower.  Wintergreen looked…mildly amused.  Or satisfied.

[bg-brainrot]

To Be Known (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Summary: Astarion reads a book and wonders what it means to be known.

Tags: Astarion's POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Fluff, Comfort, Vampire Spawn Astarion, set in Act 3 but pre-Cazador, Astarion is Bad at Feelings,

A/N: Disclaimer up top: I'm not abandoning any of my other fic! Promise! Just trying to get over a tough month and get back into the swing of things :'D

Also, based on the quote: “To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is like being loved by God.” (disclaimer: I’m not religious, and I know this quote comes in a few different forms, but google told me about this version so I stuck to it.)

Word count: ~2.1k

“To be fully known and truly loved is as if you are loved by the gods,” Astarion reads aloud, to no one in particular.

A silence follows, wherein his mind repeats the words he’s just read, absorbing none of them. To be fully known and truly loved… The words don’t seem to stick. 

Finally deciding that the sentence isn’t worth his effort, he tosses the book onto his bedroll with a groan. “What rubbish.”

Outside of this author's haughty approach to prose, Astarion doesn’t particularly care to think too deeply about what it means to be loved– especially by any godsforsaken deities. 

He has only just come around to the idea of love, not that he’s said the word ‘love’ to you just yet. It felt too much, too heavy a word to carry considering all of the other burdens the two of you bore between you. But the idea of it? Well, he was warming up to it. And with every moment shared between you, he believes he may be warming up all the more.

But what does being known have to do with love? No, that concept has him pulling his brows together, getting up from his bedroll and putting distance between himself and the drivel that Gale had recommended to him.

That’s what I get for listening to the damned wizard’s tastes, he thinks, shaking his head slightly. Some philosophical prattle, just as verbose as he is.

But even as he stands, brushes himself off, shoves the book away to the furthest corner of his tent before he makes to leave, the question of being known never escapes him.

What does it even mean to be known? he wonders, now lost in thought as he emerges from his tent. How could anyone know me, after all I’ve been through… do I even know who I am anymore?

The idea hangs over him, trails him like a storm cloud as he begins stalking about the camp you’ve all set up in the outskirts of Rivington. He’s not sure where his feet are leading him other than away– away from the distasteful book, away from away from your knowing gaze, which would only pry his thoughts out of him.

Much to Astarion’s disappointment, the trail he takes doesn’t stop the winding path his thoughts have taken.

Have I ever been known? he wonders, vaguely registering the breeze in his hair and the distant sounds of running water as he travels further and further from camp.

Perhaps I was once upon a time, but I could hardly be expected to remember now, could I? The thought is bitter and unwelcome, though likely true. He brusquely swats a branch out of his way and continues into a bramble unrepentantly. Gods, how can he bring himself to care about something as trifling as nature when he’s quite busily lost in thought right now, thank-you-very-much.

Astarion releases a sigh as he finally fights his way into a copse of trees. Secluded, finally. 

Alone. 

With his thoughts.

Which won’t seem to quiet despite the soft chittering of small animals, nor the sickly sweet smell of flowers in the air.

Why are some pitiful poet’s ‘words of wisdom’ even bothering me? he thinks as he lowers himself onto the trunk of a fallen tree. What’s even the use in being known?

Astarion crosses his legs in front of him, watching with narrowed eyes as his boots press into the soft grass, crushing it easily. There is no use to being known, he decides as he presses harder with one foot and the grass is further flattened. To wish that is…

His foot twists down even more firmly.

Pathetic, Astarion thinks, lifting his boot back up to see his handiwork. The grass lies flat, thoroughly smashed by him. This world is simply about being the one who tramples, and not the one being trampled.

That thought oddly comforts him. He knows the push and pull of power well enough– this dynamic is second nature to him. Like an old, threadbare blanket, it wraps around his shoulders, providing no warmth, but plenty of familiar reassurance.

It’s moments later that the blanket is wrenched from him and he’s laid bare once more, under the startling sunlight of your attention.

“Astarion?”

Your voice pierces through his thoughts, and his instinctual answering emotions are new to him. Surprise. Elation. Relief.

The vampire had been utterly unprepared to hear your voice, convinced he’d found a spot away from you all. Convinced that you wouldn’t be here with your thoughtful gaze– not now, while he’s still busy sorting through a myriad of questions. But he still can’t deny the way he welcomes your presence. 

He suspects that your perceptive gaze can easily catch that, despite the way his shoulder’s tense and the way his head turns away, his ears still tilt back toward you, ready for your next words.

“Astarion, there you are,” you say. He hears the same emotions he feels in your voice. How odd it feels to be mirrored by you. He can’t deny enjoying that either. “What’s the matter? When I couldn’t find you around camp, I thought the worst might have happened."

The man scoffs, trying his best to sound unaffected by your sudden arrival, refusing to meet your inquiring gaze. “And what, pray tell, did you assume could have happened?”

“We’re practically at the Gate, Astarion. Anything could have happened. Need I remind you what happened to Dribbles?” you respond, voice tight with worry. 

Ah yes. The dead clown. “It will take more than a shapeshifter to take me out, darling,” he retorts, still refusing to turn toward you, now dutifully inspecting his nails.

You let out a small huff of disapproval. “And what about Cazador?”

“I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Astarion replies, though the thought of being caught unawares by Cazador bristles at him. If he did get caught, it would be entirely Gale’s fault for lending him that book… He shakes his head of white curls and continues, “Besides, I barely got more than a few dozen yards away before you came chasing after me. I could hardly be in any real danger.”

When you sigh, he finally turns to face you. The expression you give him then isn’t frustration, nor anger– it’s an unusual mixture of worry and… joy? “I couldn’t help but chase. Would it be pathetic to say that I miss you when you’re gone for too long?” you respond.

He’s not sure he has an answer to that.

Especially when he feels pathetic for how light his undead heart feels at the statement.

Astarion drops his head, avoiding your gaze, and hoping you don’t catch the startled happiness on his face.

When it’s clear he doesn’t have a response for you, you change the subject as you close the distance between you, “So, what brought you out here?”

“Nothing,” he replies, too easily. You know it’s a lie. He knows that you know it.

“Nothing, eh?” you ask, finding a seat next to him on the fallen tree. “What about that nothing has you running into the woods?”

“I was not running,” he defends, with a click of his tongue. “I was taking a brisk stroll.”

“Fine then,” you relent, elbowing his arm gently. “What about it led to a ‘brisk stroll’?”

There’s no use hiding from them, is there? he thinks, leaning back on the trunk. “I’ll tell you,” he begins, staring out into a bush. “But only if you answer a question for me.”

“Anything,” you say, and he can feel your shrug on his arm.

“Who am I, really?”

You still. Astarion had expected no less. After all, it’s not an easy question to answer– even for him. He’s putting quite a lot of undue pressure onto you with the question, it’s selfish really… but he can’t help but want to be selfish around you.

So he lets the question settle into the silence.

When you finally speak, your voice is crisp in the muted sounds of the clearing. “Promise you won’t care for me any less after I answer you?”

Astarion snaps his head back at you, his mouth turning down in a frown. “Well that depends, my dear. What are you planning to say?”

“Promise?” you press.

As if he could care any less for you– he would have done so already if he could. “I promise,” he murmurs reluctantly. “Now, please, the suspense is really too much.”

“You are Astarion,” you start, reaching out for his hand. He cautiously places his in yours, unable to hide the twitch of a smile as your warm fingers lock with his. “You’re a beautiful, elven vampire, with silver hair, and red eyes. You’re talented, witty, and…”

Your voice trails off, and Astarion can’t help but wonder why you’d been so hesitant to answer. So far, he is loving this answer.

“And you’re an absolute arse at times.”

“Excuse me?” he gasps, moving to pull his hand out of yours.

You don’t release it, but you do continue, “You laugh at the misfortune of others, you steal, you lie, you cheat at games, you can be incredibly selfish.”

“Darling, are we certain you care about me after all this?” he grumbles, giving up on fighting your grip on him as your words wash over him. He knows all of this, of course, has been entirely unashamed of it all before… but it feels different when you say it. When you lay it out plainly before him.

“Yes,” you answer quickly, tugging on his hand gently. “Because all of that makes you you. And, personally, I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

He blinks at you, confused on how you arrived at this conclusion.

“You are so unabashedly you, love. And I adore that. I know it might not feel like it after all you’ve been through… but you are still yourself. No one has been able to take that from you.”

Now Astarion stares at your intertwined hands, wondering if he deserves such impassioned, absurd words said in his defense. His voice comes quietly when he asks his next questions, “And how do I know that’s who I have always been? Who I was meant to be?”

You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a soft, warm kiss before you continue, “Astarion, I don’t know what might have bothered you, but I want you to know that, no matter what it was, you’re amazing as the man you are. Whoever you were, whoever you think you were meant to be, you should be proud of who you are now. And… once we deal with Cazador, I hope you have the chance to rediscover that man.”

Astarion hadn’t meant this to be some kind of journey of self-discovery– really, he’d only been irked by the needless philosophy of the book Gale had lent him. But, hearing you say those words, it feels as if some weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

Worry, he realizes. Of losing who he was, of course, but also of being utterly, desolately unknown. Naturally he needn’t have worried because here you are, ready and willing to understand him. To accept and care for him, even while knowing him, flaws and all.

Maybe being known wasn’t such a burden. Not if it were by you.

“Yes, well,” he begins, suddenly unsure what to say to your earnest words. “Thank you for that, I think. Though, really, I could have done without all of the barbs. It feels like I've been struck by psychic damage.” Astarion gives a dramatic head loll, averting his flustered face.

You laugh and squeeze his hand. “Well, it’s a good thing I have no clue how to deal psychic damage, but I’ll be sure to get Gale right over if you need a good jostle to the brain.”

Gale’s done enough of that, Astarion thinks. But he doesn’t say so to you. Instead, the man simply shakes his head. “I’m quite alright. Speaking of the rest of those fools, they’ve likely begun to burn the camp down without us. Shall we head back?”

While the trek to the clearing had been filled with spiraling thoughts and matters of the self, Astarion finds that the journey back is filled with far more soft touches and kisses– Not that he minds.

In fact, he thinks with a smile, as you both walk together, practically falling into each others’ arms. Maybe this was who I was meant to be all along.

That night, once he’s settled back into his tent for bed, Astarion reads the passage once more, “To be fully known and truly loved is as if you are loved by the gods.”

Astarion is certainly no closer to believing in the gods’ willingness or ability to love him, but he could hardly care. No, he suspects that he knows what a god’s love is– after all, if you truly love him, fangs, scars, and all… well, that may very well be divine.