#the first image is him and ivy walks away

[captain-amadeus]

Gaston images that make me think about Eustis

this fukci this fucking imag istg he's so fuckign nbig

Throwing Slickwell

to be continued sfx

Gaston sleeps so much in these comics adds eusleepy taking cat naps during the day to headcanon

ffffffffffuming

His sleep schedule is fucked up maybe if you didn't spend your nights pacing around the castle destroying shit maybe you'd feel better

Slickwell does not miss Eustis when he's out (also pretend Eustis doesn't physically harm Slickwell and it's just the Pin of Klutzenheimer making him dramatically be THWAK!ed when he's just lightly pushing Slickwell to the side)

Bro Mirrorverse Gaston slaps so much

inspo for the hunting lodge from disney parks concept art

I like this one lay it down in a way my tism can understand

he has his own moodboard of himself (also that mirror take note take note)

Let's go for two

Eustis gets green glowy thing (I love DV card art sm)

mob mob angry mob mob mob angry angry

He must know how to shoot

ok that's all goodnight

[veronicaphoenix]

fairy dust series ✨ au — part one: the wicked fairy | wc: 3.5k

— read the prelude here

pairing: faeoliver! x ivy (ofc) x kitsune!noah summary: oliver comes back ten years later to take 18-year-old ivy away tags & trigger warnings: age gap, mentioned body image issues, mentioned parents' neglect, implied school bullying, mentions of kidnapping, implied virginity of the main female character, descriptions of nudity and one single mention of oliver having an erection (no sexual content beyond that and ivy feeling something at the sight of oliver naked), oh, and also, oliver's dick glows ✨ that's it, i think 🤭 my works 🌙

The Wicked Fairy ೃ༄*ੈ

The clock ticks midnight. 

            It’s her birthday. She’s eighteen.

            She waits to feel something, to feel different, but everything remains the same as she sits on her bed with a pale-blue summer dress on. There’s a nervous tic on her leg and she’s biting her bottom lip as she waits for the thing—the creature—she’s been expecting since she was eight. 

            Outside, only the occasional bark of a distant dork and the howling wind break the silence. 

            She’s tempted to get up and open the window. Maybe he cannot enter if it’s closed. Perhaps—

            But then, she hears the bells.

            There’s a shift in the air. 

            Her heartbeat speeds up.

            When she turns her head, she spots a dark figure looming in the shadowed corner of the room. 

            He made a promise to her ten years ago, and he’s kept it.

            He’s here, in her room. 

            When he steps out of the darkness into the moonlit area of the room, she swallows hard. He is as tall as she remembers, as impressive and breathtaking as the first—and only—time she ever saw him. His eyes shine like emeralds, his smile wicked and dangerous. 

            She is the one who has changed. She is no longer an eight-year-old child. Her legs and arms have lengthened, her features have matured, her hair has grown longer. Her curves are now perfectly delineated, her body filled out gracefully. 

            She is more beautiful than he ever imagined, though she doesn’t believe it herself. 

            “Miss me?” he asks, the first words spoken as their eyes finally meet. 

            Yes, she wants to say, but her throat feels dry, making speech difficult at first. 

            She has missed him. It seems silly considering she only saw him for a brief five minutes, but she would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about him—about his green eyes and the fox at his back—every year, every single day, since that moment in the woods. 

            She’s spent the last decade trying to find a way to call him, hoping he would find her and take her away. Desperation often clawed at her, days when tears flowed freely and the pain of her surroundings threatened to overwhelm her. She wanted him so badly that she dreamed of him, of the promise he made, of the things he said he would show her and make her feel. 

            She longed to feel something good.

            When years passed and she realized there was nothing she could do to summon him, after countless afternoons escaping to the woods and hours spent with her bare feet walking to the same spot where she had met him, she began to visit the library, began reading, researching, gathering all the information she could about beings like him. 

            What she discovered was far different from the images her bedtimes stories had painted. 

            Fairies were charming, sure, and they had that twinkling in their eyes that sparkled in the moonlight. But underneath that twinkling, there was a predatory instinct. Ivy had seen it, but at eight, she hadn’t been old enough to recognize it. Fairies had captivating smiles, but their teeth were sharp, needle-like. Their voices were melodic and sweet, yet carried a sinister, haunting whisper. And worst of all, their favorite pastime was luring innocent children with enchanting promises, only to whisk them away to a realm where time moved differently, and escape was nearly impossible. 

            Fairies, as Ivy learned over the years, were more than mere mortals yet less than gods; creatures of boundless magic and capricious wills; their hearts were as wild as the forests they inhabited; and they were driven by dark desires.           

            Ivy should have been scared, but the real world had shown her so much cruelty that, whenever she pictured the fairy in her mind or found him in her dreams, she longed to be taken to his world. No fear, no doubts. She was willing to leave her own world behind and trust whatever promises he made. It was a risk she was willing to take—a risk she had been waiting for a decade to take. 

            Oliver doesn’t expect a reply. He extends his arm toward her, offering his hand. 

            If she hesitates, it’s only for a moment. She remembers the things her classmates told her the day before, and in a second, her hand is in Oliver’s. His is large and his fingers are slender, which make her hand seem even smaller in his grasp. 

Fifteen minutes later, they stand at the edge of the forest. 

            It hasn’t been a long walk from her parents’ house, but the night is cold and she’s only wearing a thin dress. She rubs her arms for warmth as they quietly walk through the trees. Suddenly, Oliver stops, and she nearly collides with his wide back.

            Straight ahead, she can only see darkness. The moonlight has forsaken them, casting its glow on other parts of the forest. Insects hum unseen, and creatures scurry through the underbrush. The forest looks different from all the other times she’s been here, perhaps because she never came at night. 

            Doubt creeps in as she glances over her shoulder at the distant lights of the town.           

            “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Oliver says. 

            She turns to look at him. His eyes seem to shine even in the dark, and the grin is plastered on his face. 

            After all, he’s getting what he wanted, isn’t it? 

            He’s taking the girl with him, to his world. 

            Voices echo in her head: her mother’s disappointment, her father’s negligence, the mocking laughter of her classmates, the pitiful look of her teachers. She is ready to leave all that behind, but is she willing to leave everything else? 

            Her hesitation does not escape him. He senses her doubt, her emotions bubbling just beneath her skin. 

            His fingers trace a delicate line up her arm, from wrist to shoulder, drawing her focus back to him. 

            “Promise you’ll make everything better,” she whispers, her voice fragile. 

            Oliver huffs, almost amused.  

            “I can promise you that, but I know other ways to take that indecision away from you.”

            “Then, do it. Take it away.”

            Take me away. 

            His hands cradle her face, and before she can catch her breath, his lips claim hers. He kisses her hungrily, savoring her lips before teasing her sensitive skin. The fervor of the kiss makes her dizzy. She’s unaware of her own hands finding their way to the front of his black t-shirt, clutching it in fists. 

            The intensity of the kiss is unlike anything she had ever known. Oliver tastes like a promise, pouring his commitment into her with each press of his plump lips. His need for her is palpable. She understands then that whatever he felt for her that day in the woods has always been there; it has grown, deepened, become something undeniable, something he can’t live without. He’s not lying. The primal possessiveness in his eyes when he looks at her is genuine. He wants her. And he’s willing to do anything, give her anything, to keep her with him. Forever. 

            “Still doubtful?” Amusement laces his voice as he pulls away, his hands still holding her face. His tongue licks at his lower lip, and she is mesmerized by the way it catches the remnants of her own saliva. 

            Her chest rises and falls with heavy breaths, her eyes hypnotized by the way the tip of his tongue teases her. Whatever he’s done to her, it’s working. 

            She doesn’t want her old world anymore. 

            She wants new, different. She wants light and love, glitter and colors. 

            Maybe she’s bewitched, intoxicated, hallucinating. 

            She doesn’t care. 

            It feels too good. 

            She wants Oliver, the wicked fairy. 

            She takes a step forward, closing the distance between her and the fairy again. She rises onto her tiptoes and hangs herself from Oliver’s neck, pressing her chest to him as she arches into him. 

            “Lead the way. Now.”

            A wicked smile spreads across his face, fangs gleaming down at her.   

Crossing the darkness feels like a voyage through the deepest parts of a forgotten dream. Ivy clings to Oliver’s hand, her heart thrumming in her chest as her eyes try uselessly to adjust to the darkness. Shadows dance and twist, forming ethereal shapes that seem to guide their path. The darkness is different from the one she’s known; this darkness wraps around her like a velvety cloak, full of secrets and hidden wonders.

            Ivy steps out of the darkness, one step behind Oliver. 

            She feels warm.

            The world that opens up in front of her is bathed in a golden glow; everything shines with an ethereal light. As her head tilts up, glitter seems to fall from the sky like delicate rain, and iridescent butterflies fly about, their wings shimmering in the air. The scent of blooming flowers and fresh earth fills her lungs, a perfume so intoxicating she feels her very soul awaken. 

            Oliver watches her, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he sees the wonder and awe in her eyes. All his suspicions are instantly cleared—this is where she belongs, here, with him. 

            With a gentle hand, he guides her along a winding path, here butterflies and other creatures she doesn’t recognize yet alight on her arms as if drawn to her innate magic. The bushes rustle with unseen creatures, their presence a silent welcome, while rays of sunlight filter through the towering trees. These ancient giants seem to bow their heads towards her, as though acknowledging her as their queen. 

            In less than ten minutes, Ivy feels a powerful current stirring within her. It’s as if the very essence of the forest is merging with her spirit, filling her with a sense of belonging and peace. She feels like she’s at home. 

            Oliver leads Ivy to an open space where a hidden oasis reveals itself in all its splendor. Before them lies a small, pristine lake, its waters so clear and vibrant they seem to capture the very essence of the sky. On their side of the lake, an area of golden sand forms a secret beach, inviting and warm. At the back, a majestic waterfall cascades down from a small mountain, hinting at a vast, magical kingdom beyond. The greenery around them is lush, saturated with life; birds sing melodious tunes from the branches above and every leaf and flower seems to shimmer with its own inner light. 

            Ivy slips off her sandals, abandoning them carelessly to the side. She steps into the golden sand, feeling its warmth envelop her feet, the grains shifting and moving through her toes. She can’t stop smiling, her heart swelling with joy. Slowly, she begins to turn, taking in the breathtaking beauty around her, absorbing every detail. 

            Lost in the moment, she doesn’t notice Oliver approaching from behind.

            His hands find her hips, halting her spin. His touch sends shivers down her spine, and his warmth, hot breath tickles her ear as he whispers, “I’ve waited an eternity for this. Welcome home, Ivy.” 

            She closes her eyes, the words wrapping around her like a warm blanket. In that instant, she knows she won’t regret what she’s done, leaving everything behind for an eternal promise. 

            Ivy begins to explore the oasis, her fingers brushing against the vibrant plants and flowers that seem to bloom just for her. She inhales deeply, the scents of jasmine and honeysuckle filling her senses. She marvels at the towering trees, their leaves shimmering in the light, and she strokes the soft fur of strange, beautiful rabbits that hop around her, welcoming her with gentle nudges.

            Lost in the wonder of her surroundings, Ivy turns and finds Oliver in the water, his clothes nowhere in sight. His hair clings to his forehead, droplets of water cascading down his tattooed skin, which seems to glow with an otherworldly light. He looks like a god, every inch of him exuding an ethereal allure.

            “Care to join me?” he asks cheekily from the distance, his voice carrying a playful lilt.

            Still too shy, Ivy shakes her head, opting instead to sit on the warm sand and watch him. Oliver swims with effortless grace, tilting his head back and using his hands to slick his hair away from his face. The sight of him stirs something deep within her, a warmth that begins in the pit of her stomach and spreads to a more intimate place.

            After a while, Oliver decides he’s had enough. He steps out of the water, and to Ivy’s shock, he is completely naked. 

            His entire body glows softly, but it is his erection that draws her gaze, radiating a mesmerizing light. She’s never seen a man naked before, much less a fairy god.

            She feels her breath catch, the scene before her both stunning and surreal. Oliver walks towards her with a serene confidence, the glowing of his cock mirrored in the brightness of his perfect smile.

            He’s acutely aware of what he’s doing to her, but as he approaches her spot on the sand, he makes no attempt to intimidate her further. He flops down beside her, letting his back sink into the warm grains, sending droplets of water her way. The cool spray feels refreshing, and she wonders if she should have joined him in the lake. Perhaps the situation would have been too enticing, too tempting for her to resist swimming to him, wrapping herself around him, and asking him to make her his, for eternity.

            With a deep breath, she lays down next to him. His eyes are closed, and he seems to be inhaling the peace and the sweet scent of nature. He is the most beautiful man she’s ever seen, and she takes in every detail of his profile, every mark on his face, every curve and sharp angle, every freckle that adorns his skin.

            “See something you like?” he suddenly asks, popping an eye open and tilting his head slightly towards her. There’s sand stuck in his hair, but he doesn’t care.

            “Yes,” she says bravely. “You.”

            Oliver smiles, his teeth gleaming. She just stares at him.

            “Why did you not take me away when I was eight?” she asks suddenly.

            Oliver frowns for a moment, then shifts to lay on his stomach, resting on his forearms. His back, butt, and legs are covered in a layer of sand.

            “Because then you would have stayed a child forever. I prefer you like this: a woman.” As he says this, his hand goes to Ivy’s shoulder, and he slowly, tentatively, slides down a strap of her blue dress. 

            She holds her breath. 

            He stops, looks up at her, and waits for a sign.

            She gives it to him.

            He undresses her, indicating for her to lift her arms, and he helps her out of her dress, taking it off, leaving her in her panties. He doesn’t touch her just yet, letting her get accustomed to her quasi-absolute nakedness. Her breasts are perky and pink, soft and inviting. A blush has crept up her cheeks, her hair falling in separate strands along her back and front. She is beautiful. Oliver wants to do nothing but adore her, with all his wickedness and the love he’s got for her. It doesn’t matter that he’s done bad things before. He will find redemption in her.

            Without an indication from him, she hooks her fingers in the hem of her panties and slides them off her legs. And then, she’s naked, lying next to him, uncomfortable in her own body, just the same sensation that has plagued her since her teenage years. The cruel human world had frequently reminded her of her imperfections—curves deemed too large, shapes that were ugly, and every other aspect of her body that seemed out of place according to others’ perceptions.

            She can’t take the intensity of Oliver’s green orbs that seem to tell her that she’s actually perfect, so she closes her eyes and waits. 

            She doesn’t have to wait for long.

            First, it’s a daisy, placed on her navel, then another bunch of flowers follow, all kinds of flowers that Oliver places all over her stomach and chest, covering her in a floral blanket. He also places some in her hair, smiling all the while, as if this is the most fun he’s had in a long time.

            When she feels calmer, more settled and comfortable, knowing that Oliver won’t touch her further than to adore her and worship her with flowers, she opens her eyes, falling in love with the green of his eyes a little bit more.

            “You’re so pretty,” she breathes out as he continues placing flowers; on her thighs this time.

            “Am I?” he asks, but he already knows. He’s fully aware of his beauty and charm.

            She wants to slap him, but she knows he would stop her before her hand reached his skin. He laughs at her reaction, a quiet but deep laugh. He touches her lips with his thumb.

            “As I said: poisonous.”

            She doesn’t know, but he’s beyond infatuated with her. He wants her. He loves her. He wants to explore her, once, twice, thrice, over and over again. He wants to show her everything he has to offer, make her feel more than humans could ever give her, more than she could ever experience.

            But there will be time for that. 

            For now, he just lays his head on the sand, his left cheek sinking into it, and closes his eyes, content to be by her side.

            “You never told me your name,” she mentions, shifting onto her side and propping herself up on an elbow to reach his back. The flowers on her stomach cascade gently onto the sand. She yearns to touch him, and so she does, beginning by brushing away the patches of sand still clinging to his skin.

            He mumbles something, as if gradually drifting into slumber. 

            “Oliver,” he murmurs eventually.

            “Oliver,” she repeats, and then she chuckles softly.

            Oliver stirs beneath her, attempting to catch her gaze over his shoulder. “What’s funny?”

            “The Old French form of Oliver is Olivier, derived from the Germanic name Alfher, meaning elf army, a warrior.” She pauses, a tender smile gracing her lips. “It seems fitting.”

            He raises his eyebrows for a moment, contemplating her words. “Well, I can’t deny I’ve battled the urge to kidnap you for the last decade and held myself back. I suppose that does make me a warrior.”

            He is a warrior.

            “My warrior,” she murmurs, savoring the sweetness of the words on her lips. He smiles against the sand, content that she acknowledges the truth: he belongs to her.

            As she continues to delicately brush the sand from his back, she notices something that catches her breath. She must have made a sound because Oliver lifts his head again and looks at her.

            “Ivy?”

            “There’s...” she starts to say, her eyes fixed on a spot on his back, then scanning over his entire back. “The fox... is gone.”

            “Oh,” he says after a moment, relaxing his shoulders.

            Why is he not concerned?

            “It’s not a fox,” he corrects, reclining again. “It’s a Kitsune; a naughty one, I must say.”

            Her words stutter out, “Where— Where has he gone?”

            Oliver glances around, then shrugs nonchalantly. “He can’t be far. He was quite eager about today. He’s probably waiting for you to play with him.”

            “Play?”

            “Yes, Noah is quite the playful one,” he elaborates with a knowing smile, the corners of his lips curving like crescent moons in the twilight while Ivy blinks, apprehensive yet yearning to meet him—to meet Noah. “He delights in playing tricks, so be cautious.”

            The more Oliver talks, the more Ivy’s confusion swirls, like mist in a forest clearing. He had promised there wouldn’t be anything to be afraid of, that he would keep her safe.

            “Why should I be ca—?”

            “Well,” he cuts her off, “he’s adept at the art of seduction, and I suspect he’s quite intent on seducing you.”

            Oh, she thinks. A soft exhale eases her tense shoulders. She should be worried about falling into another magical creature’s trap. But the memory of the fox’s gaze—the kitsune’s, the warmth it had radiated in the woods when she first met Oliver, soothes her uncertainty; the reassurance the animal sent her way a decade ago seemed to tell her that everything would be okay, that she would be showered in affection and love when the time came. 

            The time had come. The time was now.

            An urgent need to find Noah surges through her, stirring butterflies that flutter both in her stomach and around her. Perhaps they’re there to guide her.

            Before rising to search, she hesitates, casting an uneasy glance down at Oliver. 

            “But— Will you allow him—? Allow me—?” 

            “Sure,” he replies before her words fully form. “Only if you desire it, of course,” his touch on her knee is reassuring. “But first, warm up to him, get to know each other.”

            Already pulling on her dress and panties, Ivy asks hurriedly, “How are we supposed to do that? I don’t even know where he is.”

            Oliver’s response comes with a cryptic smile, his eyes full of mischief.

            “That’s precisely how you begin: by seeking,” he explains. “Find him, Ivy. Find Noah. He’s been waiting for you, too.”

→ next part ✨ | my works 🌙

Taglist is open. Drop a comment or message me if you want to be tagged in part two and three :)

Taglist: @somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @poppy-in-the-woods | @blessedwithabadomen | @dsireland86 | @bluestdai | @poisongirl616 |

[mysterious-ocarina]

My Darling (NSFW)

Sub!Charles Xavier x female!reader

Main Masterlist Requests

(2.6k words)

A/N this doesn’t necessarily take place in the canon timeline, somewhere near First Class is what I was imagining. I got inspiration for your mutation from poison ivy from dc comics

“It’s a very groovy muta…”

You couldn’t bring yourself to listen anymore, turning back around to face Raven with a sigh.

“I don’t need to be a mind reader to know what you’re thinking about,” Raven nudged you. You grew up with the two mutants, arriving a few years after Raven. Being the only other female, you became very close, pretty much like sisters.

“Well, what should I be thinking?” you asked with a sad look on your face.

“That we both know, you’re the only girl that Charles has had his eyes on,” Raven replied. She was under the delusion that Charles reciprocated your feelings.

“Tell that to the girl that he is literally staring at. He even used that stupid mutation line on her,” you sighed, pointing at the two of them, the girl laughing at something Charles said.

“Yeah, but he uses that line on all the girls. It’s not anything special and neither is she,” she reassured you. Before you could say anything back you watched as the girl flirtatiously walked away from Charles, offering him a small wave.

You summoned a vine, putting it in front of the woman’s heels. Both you and Raven giggled as she tripped and walked off embarrassed. Hearing your giggles, Charles looked at you, briefly hearing your thoughts.

Walking over to you guys, he admonished, “Why would you do that?”

“Do what?” you replied innocently before pettily turning your back to him, fire red hair flipping behind you. “I think I’m going to head back to the mansion, I’m getting tired.”

You quickly walked off, not waiting for a reply. Back at the mansion, you sluggishly walked past Erik who regarded you with concern. “What’s up with you?”

“A groovy mutation,” you mockingly replied, stopping your footsteps. “Is there something wrong with me? Does he really only see me as another sister?”

Surprised by your outburst, Erik calmly responded, “So, this is about Charles.”

“Of course this is about him. I’m going to grow old and become a crazy cat lady. And the only thing I’ll be known for is being Professor X’s sister. Not, his lover, his girlfriend, his wife, not even some girl he occasionally sleeps with,” you ranted. You tended to be temperamental and dramatic, so your rant wasn’t that off putting for Erik to listen to.

“You know, you could always just tell him how you feel,” Erik offered, making you sigh.

“He can read minds, for Christ's sake. I shouldn’t have to tell him anything,” you finished. You sulked all the way outside to the gardens.

Coming up to your favorite tree, you made a series of soft vines into the shape of a hammock for you to lay on. This was something you commonly did when you needed a break or you needed to calm down.

When Charles and Raven got home to the mansion, Charles went off to find you. He loved spending time with you, especially in the late hours of the night. These were the times you were most comfortable with each other, often involved in deep conversation. It was these late nights that made you fall in love with each other, not that you knew of Charles’ feelings.

Charles, looking out the window, saw you curled up in vines under your tree. Grabbing his softest blankets and a few pillows, he made his way outside to you.

“Are you awake?” Charles whispered.

You groggily turned around, barely replying with a hum, and falling right back asleep.

Charles smiled dreamily at your sleeping form, projecting the image of a calm meadow into your mind. He softly placed one of the pillows under your head then placed the other one next to yours. Crawling into the vined hammock, Charles placed the blankets over the both of you before falling into a dreamless sleep.

When you woke the next morning, you were surprised to find not only soft blankets covering you but also strong arms holding you close to a firm chest. Turning around slowly you found a peaceful Charles still sleeping. You snuggled closer into his chest, not wanting the moment to end.

Charles rustled next to you, “Good morning.”

Wow, his voice is so sexy like this, you thought. “Morning.”

Charles smiled at you, you hoped he didn’t hear your last thought.

“How did you sleep?” he asked you.

“I slept amazing actually. I dreamt of a beautiful forest scene,” you replied, raising your eyebrow at him. He often would give you good dreams, especially if you weren’t sleeping well. You had gotten so used to it, that you could tell the difference between dreams you actually had, and ones that he gave you.

“I found you out here, last night, and I didn’t want you to get cold or anything,” Charles replied bashfully.

“I’m not complaining, am I?” you sassily replied.

Charles simply just brought you closer to his chest. You both laid there for most of the day until Charles was needed by Hank.

As soon as you could, you went to find Raven. She was in the middle of a conversation with Erik when you found her. You grabbed her, urgently telling Erik, “Sorry, it’s very important. I need Raven right now.”

“What the hell?” Raven asked you once you made it to your room. You explained what you woke up to this morning, making her even more giddy than you were.

“This is perfect. He’s definitely into you,” Raven offered excitedly.

“Well what do I do about it?” you asked. You

“You should make your move tonight after dinner,” Raven explained. She then went into a detailed fake scenario about what will happen. You tuned her out to think of your own plan.

After your talk with Raven, you ended up taking a short nap. When you woke up, you realized you would be late for dinner, so you quickly freshened up and made your way down.

You could hear the usual commotion of dinner, except it sounded a bit more hectic than usual. Upon walking into the dining area you noticed three things. First, your chair that was usually between Charles and Raven, was broken to pieces in its spot. Next, you saw Hank and Alex wrestle about on the floor. Then last, you noticed an annoyed Charles, a bemused Raven, and a thrilled Erik.

“What the hell happened?” you questioned. At the sound of your voice, the two boys on the ground got up swiftly, pointing a finger at each other.

“The boys thought to bring their wrestle match inside. Your chair as well as a couple unsuspecting vases were victims of this,” Charles explained with a sigh.

“Well where do I sit?” you asked. Neither Hank or Alex made eye contact with you, not wanting to give up their seats.

“What about Charles' leg? I want you to still be next to me, but you would crush my small thighs,” Raven smirked at you. You knew exactly what she was trying to suggest, you just hoped that Charles didn’t pick up on it.

“I’m okay with that,” Charles replied, scooting his chair out a bit so you could fit.

Softly sitting on his lap, with a blush, you complimented, “Ever the gentleman.”

From there, thankfully, dinner went as usual. Noone seemed to care about you sitting on Charles lap. You were embarrassed and nervous the entire time, but no one seemed to pay any mind, except Raven who throughout your conversation was giving you slight smirks. Eventually, Raven was talking to Hank in front of you, so you were quietly finishing your food.

Finishing your food, you leaned back onto Charles. He coughed but said nothing. Turning around to look at him, you moved and you felt something under you. With direct eye contact with Charles, you softly moved your hips to confirm your suspicions.

That definitely won’t help, Charles breathily informed you in your mind. Be a good girl, and keep still.

With a blush, you replied, And if I don’t want to?

Charles gave you a raised brow in surprise. You hoped that you weren’t too forward or made him uncomfortable. The longer he took to reply, the more disappointed you got that he did not share your feelings.

As you were about to get up, Charles held your waist down. Softly rubbing one of your arms, he offered, Don’t worry Darling. I’m not opposed, I was just a bit taken by surprise. I assumed you saw me as nothing more than an adoptive brother.

Facing forward again to not alarm anyone to your silent conversation, I definitely don’t think of you as a brother.

You reassured your statement with a soft grind onto the hardened bulge in his pants. He breathed in your ear, gripping your arm tightly.

Keep grinding, and see what happens, Charles hinted.

Grinding harder against him, you replied, What are you thinking?

I’m thinking about taking you right on this table, he tried sounding harsh but the pleasure you were giving him only made him sound desperate.

Aww, are you that sensitive? Imagine what it will feel like when I do this without our clothes in the way, you seductively teased.

Charles shifted, letting out an almost silent whine. You looked around to see if anyone heard but everyone was too busy in their own conversations. You shifted again before ordering, I would be quiet if I were you Charles. We don’t want anyone to know about your little problem.

With a hard grind, you emphasized, Or should I call it a big problem?

Charles lightly panted behind you and if you saw his face, you would have seen it brushed with a red tint.

What do you say we sneak out of here? Charles almost begged.

Now that would be rude to leave in the middle of dinner, with that you turned to Raven and started a conversation with her, ignoring him.

Throughout the rest of dinner, you would shift just to tease Charles. He was squeezing your waist as a way to control himself. You noticed him to be a complete mess and when someone talked to him, you would start grinding making him stutter his words. 

When dinner was over, which Charles would claim was hours long, you two were the last to leave.

When you finally got up, you turned around to observe Charles. His face was incredibly flushed, his pants looked a bit too tight on his bulge, and there was even a small spot of precum darkening his pants.

“Do I truly have this kind of effect on you?” you questioned with a blush.

He simply got closer to you, kissing you with so much passion you thought you would fall over. It felt like fireworks finally being able to kiss him. Your whole body flushed, and you felt your panties get even more wet than they were before.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for years,” he told you. “So yes, you very much do have that effect on me.”

“Then take me to your room, Professor,” you addressed. You watched as his eyes darkened at the use of his title. He held your hand as you both swiftly made your way to his room.

Once in his room, you softly urged him towards his bed. You continued your kiss, sitting on his lap. He had his hands exploring as much of your body as he could reach, your hands simply running through his hair.

I wonder if I should pull it, you briefly thought. Charles moaned into your mouth. You stopped kissing him to give an experimental tug on his soft hair, forcing a loud groan to come from his mouth.

“Oh, is that what you want, Professor?” you teased, with a smirk.

He simply nodded in response, grinding you on him harder.

Getting off of him, you replied, “I think I need words, Professor. What do you want me to do to you tonight?”

With a flushed face and panting breath, he begged, “Please, I need you to fuck me.”

“Such lewd words, Charles,” you teased, before summoning vines to wrap around his wrists, connecting him to the bed. He whined in protest to your actions. “I don’t think you’re allowed to touch me yet, Professor.”

You straddled his waist and resumed kissing him. With his hands tied, he wasn’t able to touch you the way that he wanted to, sending a short, please, into your mind. You ignored him to kiss all around his face and neck.

You slowly kissed down his neck, finding his sweet spots and making him moan. You made marks along his neck, then his collarbones, making your way all the way down.

You softly ran your nails down his abs making him shiver in pleasure. You gave slight pecks and licks until you got to his v-line, “Should I take off your pants, Professor?”

“Please, darling,” he whined. You pulled his pants off, but left his briefs off.

Rubbing him through his briefs, watching the wet pot of precum get bigger, you teased,” I quite like the way you look. Sitting under me, you look so handsome.”

Blushing at your compliment, he wiggled his hips, urging you to touch him. You obliged by bringing your mouth close to the tent in his briefs and blowing hot air on to him.

“Please touch me, darling. I want you to fuck me,” Charles all but cried.

“Whatever you want, honey,” you replied as you finally pulled his briefs down his legs. At the sight of his cock hitting his stomach, you quickly got up to shed all of your clothes. Charles admired your naked body, wishing that he could touch you and please you.

You sat back on his naked thighs to touch him. As your fingers rubbed his cock, he let out a loud moan that had arousal pooling in you. You quickly got on your knees and sank your body fully on him.

He felt so good, stretching you out, that you let out an erotic cry that had him twitching inside you. “You like my cunt, honey?”

“Yes, you feel absolutely perfect,” he complimented. Fully adjusted to his length, you finally started to move. You place your hands on his chest for balance and set a pulsing rhythm.

You decided that you teased Charles enough, so you let the vines wrapped around him go, letting him move freely. He swiftly grabbed your hips, pounding into you.

The rhythm and speed at which Charles was pounding you with, had him touching the right spots, making you quiver in his arms. He brought a hand down to your clit, rubbing it harshly.

“Are you close, Professor?” you asked breathily. He nodded his head in response. “Well that’s too bad, you aren’t allowed to come until I do.”

He whined in protest but kept going at a harsh pace. He flipped you over, hitting the perfect spot inside of you. You moaned and shook under him, approaching your orgasm.

“Make me cum, handsome,” you whispered. At your command, he brought his hand back down to your clit. He rubbed you inside and out with such passion that he had you cumming quickly and blissfully. You moaned out his name, squeezing around him, making him cum too.

Laying down peacefully next to him, you both dreamily stared at each other.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Charles softly whispered to you.

You smiled back at him, “You too, handsome.”

As you were drifting to sleep, Charles asked you, “Will you be my Darling forever?”

“I want nothing more,” you replied, giving him a soft kiss.

[micropoe10]

𝐀 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭🏵

𝐂𝐡𝐚��𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝐉𝐮��𝐭 𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐧

Before Tav and Tadpoles, there was just a man, his goddess, and the desire to serve her no matter the cost. Gale Dekarios was her chosen, her pupil, her lover. But what was she to him?

A goddess bound by duty, a woman haunted by her past, and the man who taught her to love again.

I was inspired to lore dive into the goddess Mystra after seeing this gorgeous piece of art by the wonderfully talented @ssalballoon 🏵

I was determined to learn as much as I could about the goddess of magic and weave a story of a time before she became the most hated diety in all of Faerun.

Edited by the amazing @editing-by-night thank you for everything! And for putting up with my grammar and my questions. 🏵

And to @brabblesblog without you, this story would still be in limbo! Thank you for holding my hand and gently pushing me through 🏵

The weave crackled and vibrated, its amethyst hues now tinged azure. Small radiant sparks lept from her fingertips as Mystra quickly retracted her hand. The energy that permeated the air sizzled. This was new magic, it was spectacular, brilliant, and messy. It fascinated and terrified her. The last time that she felt new magic, Netheril was falling from the heavens and her essence was sundered, leaving her old life behind. She shook her hands free of the new magic’s sensation. It was a cold, distant feeling as she pressed her thumbs to the pads of her other fingers. Her pensive gaze was locked on her fingers; the lingering pinprick sensation weighed heavily within them. 

She took a deep, calming breath, stretching her fingers before her as she called upon the weave again. She opened clouded eyes as vibrant swirls of amethyst and lavender flowed around her. The winds picked up, causing wisteria petals to fall from the trees above, cascading down upon her like a healing rain, cleansing her of the passionate thoughts that flowed through her mind. She could feel her concentration slipping as images of the night before came into view in a sultry haze. 

Tender lips trailed down her back, as page-worn hands gripped her hips pulling her to him. Their bodies entwined, wrapped in mulled-wine-colored satin and stardust. Two touch-starved souls consummating their love amongst the expanse of stars in the skies of Elysium exchanged hungry, breathless kisses.

Mystra gasped, her eyes flying open. Her heart raced, her palms were sweaty and there was a delicious slick heat pooling between her thighs that she couldn’t ignore. She noticed the weave no longer held its violet shades but had taken on the tranquil blues once again.

“Damnit!” She cursed. With an aggressive swipe of her hand, the weave dissipated into a fine mist. She stood there in the courtyard, covering her face. Her fingers softly kneaded away the tension in her forehead as she sighed in frustration.

“What are you doing, Mystra?” She questioned herself, or was it her sanity? With scarlet cheeks, she continued with the personal interrogation. “You told yourself, you promised Kelemvor that you wouldn’t do this again,” she groaned. “It’s as if you didn’t learn from the first time.” If only Kelemvor could see her now, would the lord of death be displeased by her actions? Her mind twisted to that hazy day they had shared in the gardens of Dweomerheart - her home.

On the outermost part of Eronia lay the glittering city of Dweomerheart, the opulent seat of knowledge and devotion to spellcraft, and the home of Faerun’s deities of magic. Set high into the rugged mountain terrain the city looked out upon the borders of the astral sea and the vast expanse of Elysium.

It was a day like any other as the goddess of magic walked the ivy-laden cloister of the Akademia. She stopped within the white granite courtyard to admire the bowing branches of the world tree that dared intrude upon her realm.

Mystra stood, arm outstretched, grasping a crystalline branch and wondering what world she held in her palm. What universe could be destroyed with a snap of her fingers or a flick of her wrist? She had been tasked to preserve magic and to preserve life alongside it, but mortal life was fickle and fleeting and she would only be helping it along.

The thought brought her more joy than it should and it was only the sound of quickening footsteps from behind her that broke her out of her rumination. She let the fragile branch slip from her fingertips to see one of her attendants approach her.

“My lady, the Lord of Death waits for you in the courtyard.” With that, they took quick leave and she retreated down the steps to greet her guest.

“I’m always pleasantly pleased when the goddess of magic herself deigns to permit me an audience. All the more surprised when I’m welcomed into your domain, my lady.” With a curt nod, Kelemvor bowed before her.

“There is no need to be so formal Kelemvor, we’re old friends are we not? Besides, I've called you here for a more personal matter entirely.” Mystra said, holding her hands in front of her. Her fingers found purchase, clasping onto the sleeves of her dress.

“That you should call me here for guidance and counsel. Your message sounded most urgent. I am truly honored. But do you not have others around you who may better understand whatever it is that troubles you?” His question rang true, she did have others whom she could confide in, but none that would give her an honest answer without fear of angering her. No, she didn't want answers that were pleasing to her, she wanted a solid answer even if she objected to it. Which she most likely would.

“I’ve taken upon myself another chosen.” She didn't miss a beat as she got straight to the point. She did not meet his gaze at first, her eyes downcast. 

“Oh? Do you not still have that aging wizard doing your bidding?” He chuckled from under his hooded cloak, confused, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Who, Elminster? Well… well, of course, he is the most loyal of any chosen I’ve had. But I am the puppeteer to his marionette and if I cut the strings before I have someone new all I’ll have is a pile of old bones not even worth reanimation.” She said almost incredulously, waving a hand around like she was controlling the imaginary strings of an obedient puppet.

“Your chosen, Mystra…” Kelemvor wandered around the courtyard contemplating his words carefully, pausing to pour a glass of ambrosia wine. “With your presence, the weave needs not another chosen to hold the balance. I don't want to see you hurt again.” Kelemvor’s tone shifted, his tattered robes dragged against the stone walkway as he continued to move about the gardens.

“My chosen are not your concern, nor is the weave. The individuals that I choose are there to uphold balance within the weave. Their power is astronomical, their knowledge far superseding scholars.”

“And your chosen… this time?” He sat in a chair opposite where she was standing.

She eased at his question, even taking a seat across from him. “Gale..Dekarios of Waterdeep. He shows extraordinary power and has had an understanding of the weave from an early age, Kelem! Elminster found him when he was but eight, Eight! He’s older now. Easier to mold..to teach.” she sighed, pressing a hand to her abdomen to calm her nerves

“You mean that it’ll be easier to convince him to bed his goddess without rhyme or reason?” Kelemvor prodded.

“Is that really what you think I do? I’m not some common prostitute, I don’t whore out my magic. What happened then won’t hap…”

“I don’t want you to make the same mistake Mystra, what happened with Karsus was preventable. But you thought you could change him, mold him. You even bedded him once, didn't you? He was only ever in love with your power, and…” Mystra’s voice cut him off.

“You tread on dangerous ground Kelemvor!” The wind whipped through the buildings, and trees creaked as her face hardened. Her fingers dug into her palms. The air was thick with the weave’s choking grasp. “What happened with him was an oversight. I was foolish, I’ll admit it, but none of us were prepared and…”

“You,” Kelemvor interjected swiftly.

“What?” Mystra said, taken aback. The winds calmed.

“You weren’t prepared for him. You were dead Mystra. The weave was in disarray, the crown gone.” Mystra shook her head, her lips pursed with a look of pain and malice, but he continued. “You opened yourself up, gave yourself freely to a man you thought you could change, one you could trust. One of your ‘chosen’’. The balance of Elysium is still fragile even after all these years…and the scales are not in your favor. You need to tread carefully.” 

Kelemvor leaned across the table to lift her chin to stare into the iris eyes of one that had seen so much of the world. She leaned into him, her lips mere inches from his. “All mortals are the same, Mystra, you can’t change them. They are ambitious, greedy creatures. For as long as we’ve known each other, mortal and god alike have craved your power the most. I’m afraid, dear friend, that it is you who are the puppet. And if you’re not careful, someone will cut your strings, and that might be all it takes.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She could feel his icy touch cooling her flesh where his hand rested upon her cheek. “You’re wrong Kelem. I’ve watched him grow, his grasp on magic far supersedes any of the others that have pledged themselves to my service. Gale Dekarios is nothing like Karsus and I’ll prove it. He WILL be my next chosen.” She stood and pushed away from the table then past her old friend, a look of wilful defiance in her eyes as she batted away his hand.

“And what if you’re wrong, about the Dekarios boy?” He asked calmly, turning to look at her. Mystra froze, her fists clenching. “He’s just a man, a mortal, they make mistakes almost as much as we do.”

“I won’t make the same mistake a second time Kelem. He shows promise, I’ll do better. I won’t fall for him. I can’t afford more setbacks; I have too many enemies on my heel.  But if you need reassurance, if he fails me…I’ll find some way to kill him myself.” Mystra walked out of the garden, leaving Kelemvore to sip his drink in silence.

“Good morning,” Gale whispered, scratching at the back of his messy head and sliding his fingers through his chestnut locks. His hand settled on the back of his neck and he tilted his head to look at her from across the small courtyard. His words dragged her out of the memory with a heavy heart and an exhausted smile. 

“Good morning Gale,” she purred, her back still to him as she quickly wiped a rogue tear from her cheek. 

Gale ran the back of his fingers up her arm as he stood behind her on the balcony. Her fingers lay elegantly splayed out on the granite balustrade, as if ready to conduct an orchestral symphony betwixt the weave and stars. He felt her body quiver as she exhaled softly between parted lips. He leaned in closer, his hand sliding down, slowly dragging the strap of her gossamer silk dress off her shoulder. His nose tickled the outer shell of her ear and he felt her heat radiate there. Hot and steady breath ghosted her skin as he dragged his tongue fervently against the crook of her neck, kissing her tender flesh. 

Her eyes fluttered closed. Behind them, she could see streaks of iridescent violet and lustrous hues of amethyst. Her breath quickened, releasing an enraptured moan.

“Stop!” she exclaimed, stifling the moan almost as quickly as it escaped her. She pulled away from him, rolling her shoulders back and taking a deep breath to calm herself. “You’ve grown too bold, Gale.” Her words were filled with a sad longing as she spoke to him from over her shoulder.

“If I took too many liberties, I apologize. It’s just that after last night I thought...well, I assumed this would be fine.” Gale spoke softly and with a wry smile, He stepped toward her as she turned to face him.

“You think I don’t long to feel your hands upon me? To breathe in the sickeningly intoxicating smell of mahogany and parchment from your skin?” Her breath quivered, her heart raced and her chest heaved as he looked up at her with the same desire that had been present last night.

“Mystra...”

“I would be lying if I said that I didn’t enjoy it, Gale, but it never should have happened. I can’t do this again!  I made a promise I wouldn’t do it aga…” The panic set in and her composure slipped its almost near unbreakable defenses. Gale gently took her face in his hands and she slipped her hands between them, pressing them against his chest.

“Mystra..breathe.” Small petals fell around them as he thumbed away the tears from the corners of her eyes. He pulled a petal from the braided crown on top of her head. “You know wisteria symbolizes long life and even love.” He looked at her as she scoffed.

“Love…you think that’s easier for me because I’m a goddess? Like I’m given a choice? My first and only love will ALWAYs be the weave, it has to be! What we did last night was not love. Lust, desire even, I'll grant you that much, but not love. The sooner you learn the difference, the better off we’ll both be. Don’t disappoint me, Gale.”

Tag List: @brabblesblog @capraqueen @kasumitanart @tallymonster @ssalballoon @troutsoup @tragedybunny @astarioffsimpmain @nightmarecait @bunnidarling @iizuumi @acystreia

If anyone else wants to be tagged please let me know!! I will figure out how to get this up on Ao3 soon I swear!! Yes, I also took some lore liberties and changed a few minor things. TWs to be added once I figure out what they will be.

[archiveikemen]

Xeno Main Story: Chapter 8

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

— The weekend in Macau.

Like Sakura-san said, we were spending the weekend in Macau to film a MV. 

We flew from Haneda to Hong Kong at night before rushing to Macau in a chartered helicopter. 

(That was one unthinkable experience. I had never ridden in a helicopter before…) 

We met up with the local filming crew and commenced with the MV filming right away without resting. 

(St. Lazarus’ Parish, Walls of St. Paul Church, Senado Square…) 

The filmings were one after another at popular locations in Macau often used as backdrops for films.

… 

Our current location was a more modern location lined with tall buildings. 

(Umm, the next location is at the beach. I must confirm our schedule for the day…) 

MV Director: Xeno-san, the scene we shot just now is still a little… 

Xeno: … [poker face]

MV Director: Xeno-san? 

Xeno: ! 

Xeno-san, who had been reading through some documents, looked up with a start upon hearing the director’s voice. 

(I knew it… something’s wrong with Xeno-san.) 

It’s not that he wasn’t concentrating. Rather, he was always on edge and looked extremely anxious about something.

(It’s like he doesn’t hear anything happening around him… he didn’t talk to the members much either.) 

Indifferent to my worries, Xeno-san listened to the director’s instructions. 

MV Director: You need to put in more frustration into this scene. Try impulsively shaking off Ivy-san’s hand. 

MV Director: I think it would better convey his emotions if Ivy-san paused to look at his arm that was shaken off. 

Ivy: Understood. 

(They’re filming a drama type MV with a storyline this time, right?) 

Although the director gave out many detailed instructions, everyone was diligent in following up with them. 

(They’ve been filming almost nonstop with no breaks, but they don’t look tired at all. As expected of a group of professionals. Besides…) 

Fan 1: Kyaa! Xeno! 

Fan 2: So handsome! 

Fan 3: Please look at me! 

As we went from location to location for filming, it seemed to have spread on SNS and many Cordier gathered to see the members.  

Cordier was the name of exe Creed’s fandom. 

There were tourists from Japan, locals… and fans from various countries cheering in their different languages. 

Going too near the filming site was prohibited, but that didn’t stop crowds from forming in the vicinity. 

(Their popularity is incredible…) 

As the member responsible for performance in exe Creed, Xeno-san was checking through the scenes they had filmed so far, along with the director.

Xeno: For this walking scene, filming from the side looks better than from the front. 

Xeno: I think it would amplify the message of the song. 

MV Director: I see, I think that’s a good idea. 

Xeno: We’ll turn the lights down a little more… 

(That’s how they convey their personal image even on set.) 

Ivy: So we’re redoing that scene one more time. Heard that, everyone? 

Jace: Got it. Oh, let me touch up our makeup first. 

Hugh: Um… are we redoing the dance scene too? 

Finn: I don’t see any problems with that part, so I don’t think we have to.

(The other members are performing their own roles too.)

Instead of doing as they were told, they went with their own creativity. That was what a MV filming with exe Creed was like. 

(Back at the condominium… everyone can be a little lazy, especially Jace-san and Hugh-san.) 

(Sure enough, I think they’re admirable when they switch to work mode.) 

However… 

I glanced at Xeno-san who looked serious while filming the MV. 

(He’s the only one who remains the same, regardless of whether he was at home or at work. He was always “Xeno from exe Creed”.) 

(I wonder if he feels tired of being this tense all the time. … Is it hard on him?) 

Does Xeno-san ever have moments where he feels genuinely relaxed? 

(I’ve only seen him asleep once, and even that was hard to come by.) 

= Flashback Start =

Xeno: Forget everything that just happened. Got it?

Rina: Y-yes. Um, Xeno-san…

Xeno: You don’t have to clean today. Leave. 

= Flashback End =

(… I haven’t had a proper talk with Xeno-san ever since then.)

(Just when I thought we were starting to get a little closer. … I wonder if there’s anything I can do about this.) 

…

Afterwards, we moved to a seaside location to continue filming. 

The crowd of fans was growing in size, and they gathered around like a human wall. 

(The cheers are so loud. They’re making it hard to work…) 

I was watching the filming process from a slight distance while at the same time looking at the wall of people. That was when… it happened. 

Fan 1: Hey, don’t push me from behind! 

Fan 2: I can’t see a thing, move it! 

Fan 3: Don’t push me! … Ah! 

Rina: !? The barricade! 

Due to the pushing and shoving from the passionate fans, the barricades we put in place to keep them away from the filming site were knocked down. 

Staff: All of you, leave right this instant! 

People rushed past the damaged security barricades and the staff scrambled to stop them. However… 

Fan 1: YAY! 

Fan 2: This is my chance! Now’s the time…! 

Staff 1: Ah, stop! 

A few excited fans ignored the staff and are running towards exe Creed…! 

(We can’t let the fans get to them!) 

Staff 1: Don’t! Stop! Stop! 

The members were busy filming and didn’t notice the commotion. 

Fan 1: Kya~! Xeno~! 

(OH NO!)

My body instantly moved on its own and sprinted across the sand. 

Xeno: !

Fan 1: Xeno! 

The fangirls reached their hands out towards Xeno-san, who was the nearest to them. 

A split second before they could touch him, I sprang out and threw myself in front of them. 

Rina: S-stop! 

I spread my arms wide open to block their way. 

Rina: We’re in the midst of filming! Please go back! 

Fan 1: Who do you think you are!? You’re in the way!  

Fan 2: Get lost! 

The fangirls tried pushing me away. 

Rina: Kyaa! 

I was shoved hard and fell to the ground. 

Rina: … ugh. 

It hurt so bad I couldn’t breathe and was unable to get back on my feet.

(What do I do? I need to stop them, fast. If this goes on, everyone will…!) 

… My body was gently lifted up.

Rina: Eh…? 

(Xeno-san!) 

Fan 1: Xeno, why are you touching that girl!? 

Fan 2: Not fair! 

Xeno: … [upset] 

He stood while supporting me and glared sharply at the squealing fans. 

Xeno: Don’t mess around! 

Fan 1: Eh… 

Xeno: What you people are doing isn’t being supportive, but instead a hindrance. 

Xeno: Obstructing the filming process, causing bodily harm to a staff member… it’s astonishing to hear that you’re all big fans of us. 

Fan 2: B-but we… 

Xeno: I don’t acknowledge people like you as fans. 

Xeno: Leave. If you truly are fans of exe Creed, then don’t bother us any further. 

(He’s furious…) 

The switch from his usual expressionless and cold personality was so powerful that it left the fans speechless. 

The fangirls stood in shock as they were dragged away by other staff members. 

Rina: Xeno-san… 

Rina: Are you okay? Did you get hurt? 

Xeno: … You were the one who was shoved. They didn’t do anything to me.

Rina: Thank you for helping me. 

Xeno: Kawanaga, you… 

Xeno-san stared at me, he looked like he wanted to say something. 

Xeno: … [sad expression] 

But he said nothing in the end and went in another direction. 

(Did I do something wrong to anger him again…?) 

Ivy: Kawanaga-san, you okay? 

Jace: That was too unreasonable~ you don’t have to go that far, just leave that sort of thing to the security staff. 

Rina: I’m sorry. I ended up causing trouble instead… 

Sakura: Looks like the security measures were too lax. We need to improve on it the next time we go filming. 

Finn: You’re not hurt, are you? 

Hugh: Looks painful… 

Now that they mentioned it, my knees did suffer some slight abrasions.

Rina: Just a minor injury, it’s nothing serious. 

Ivy: That won’t do. Come here. 

Ivy-san brought me to the side and took out a first aid kit to treat my wounds. 

Rina: Oh, I can do it myself!

Ivy: It’s okay, let me. 

Ivy: But I was genuinely shocked just now. … Don’t be reckless, okay? You’ve always had the tendency to push yourself too hard. 

Rina: I’m sorry for making you worry about me… you’re a really kind person, Ivy-san.

Ivy: Me? I don’t think so, though. 

Rina: You are. You’ve been constantly looking out for me ever since I came. 

Ivy: That’s because you’re so hardworking. 

Ivy: Watching you working desperately in an unfamiliar environment made me think that I should do something to help. 

Ivy: So if you ever need help or have something bothering you, feel free to tell me.

Ivy-san said with a warm smile, and his kindness made me feel more at ease… 

(Seeing this smile of his makes me want to talk to him a lot about all sorts of things…) 

When he mentioned having something bothering me, the first thing that came to mind was the pained expression I saw on Xeno-san’s face that night. 

Rina: … Honestly, I’m very worried about Xeno-san. 

Ivy: Xeno? 

Rina: Things have been strange lately, and I feel like the wall between us got bigger than before… 

Ivy: … You’re right. I’m concerned about what’s going on with Xeno too. He’s been very on edge and anxious lately.  

Ivy: Not sure whether it’s because he’s thinking about something or he’s too engrossed in his work, but it always looks like he doesn’t really hear anything we say… 

Ivy: I’m guessing that the reason might be the same for why he’s been overly harsh towards us. 

(So Ivy-san thinks the same way too…) 

Ivy: At this rate, the team’s mood will only go from bad to worse. I want to do something about it, but it’s not going very well.

Ivy: If only there was some sort of trigger we can identify…

Rina: Right… 

…

The MV filming went on smoothly. 

After completing the filming at a five star hotel, we checked in for the night. 

…

Rina: *huff*…

(This hotel is amazing, even the lobby looks luxurious and sparkly…)

= Flashback Start = 

Sakura: Let’s call it a day. We’ll gather here tomorrow at six in the morning, don’t oversleep. 

Sakura: Oh, and don’t leave the hotel! We never know where you’ll go and cause trouble. 

Xeno: I know. … I’m going to my room. 

Ivy: Eito and I will be heading to the hotel’s bar for drinks. 

Sakura: Don’t get too carried away, all of you. 

Finn: I’m not a kid. I’ll just be doing muscle training in my room. 

Hugh: Sleepy… I’m going to bed… 

Jace: It’s impossible not to go out and have fun. … Aegis-chan, keep it a secret from Eito-san for me, okay? 

= Flashback End =

(Everyone’s probably spending their time in their own way right now.) 

I was resting in the lobby for a bit before heading to my room. 

(I wonder what Xeno-san’s doing now…) 

Judging from the way he immediately went up to shut himself in his room, he was most likely working again to prepare for tomorrow’s filming.

(In times like this, I want him to rest properly.) 

Just as I was thinking about Xeno-san—

(Huh? Is that Xeno-san?) 

He was in disguise and trying not to stand out, but I was fully certain that it was him. 

Xeno: … [troubled expression]

Seeing that he looked like he was worrying about something and acting unusual, I decided not to call out to him and went to hide in the shadows. 

Not noticing me, he walked briskly through the lobby and left the hotel. 

(Eh!? Sakura-san said not to leave the hotel!) 

(It’s not like Xeno-san to break the rules and sneak out. Besides, his facial expression just now…) 

The figure of Xeno-san’s back slowly grew distant… I didn’t have much time to hesitate. 

(… I’m too curious, I can’t just let it be. I feel bad about it, but I’m going to follow behind him to see what’s going on.) 

I ran out of the hotel, chasing after him…

[lnnlove]

you're not replaceable either | elriel

part two to my Elriel week 2023 piece (this might make little sense unless you read part one)

Summary: Az discovers Elain sleepwalking, and notices more about her than he did the night she found him outside the townhouse. A very emotional (post ACOSF) conversation ensues. I love angst! (I personally hope their book is full of angst and mutual pining for like the first third of it) Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Weight loss due to depression/not eating, skipping meals. Author's Note: Basically all I think about is how the first post ACOSF conversation will go between these two in Elain's book so that's where this was born! I bounce back and forth between who will start the conversation/who will say I love you first. I mostly think Az will have to initiate the conversation first because Elain will be so hurt from the rejection. In my Elriel week piece, Elain does most of the talking, but this is what I imagine Az might say. Enjoy! <3

She calls for you, his shadow whispers, curling around his ear as he struggles to focus on the papers in front of him. It seems he hasn't been able to focus on anything since returning home and seeing Elain days ago.

Sleep walking, it continues, she is restless. It doesn't have to elaborate, of course he knows who it speaks of. Elain. He tries to ignore it, the tugging feeling in his gut telling him to go.

She is calling for you, it repeats, asleep in the ivy.

"Asleep in the ivy? Outside?" Azriel asks out loud. It must mean the ivy sprawling the side of the River Manor. She's been staying there to prepare for Starfall festivities. It adorns the siding of the house and cascades into a bed below.

She wanders when she dreams.

"Has this happened before?" he asks his shadow.

Yes, she always wakes up alone and confused.

Gods, it's cold tonight. He can't possibly let her stay there. If he were to be caught by Rhys then he'd have that as a cover at least.

Azriel stands from his desk at the House of Wind quickly and rushes to the door. He's in the sky in seconds, flying as fast as he can towards Rhys and Feyre's home.

When he lands, it's quiet. He makes his way towards the ivy silently, so he doesn't wake the sleeping beauty in front of him.

He goes still when he hears it.

"Azriel," she breathes.

He's frozen in place. That's all she says, just his name. Slipping from her lips as she exhales in her sleep.

"Azriel," she whispers again, snapping him back into the moment.

He walks the rest of the way to her, bending at his knees. He looks at her for a moment, wanting to savor the image of her sleeping in her garden for a little while longer. Azriel grabs Elain's arms and drapes them over his shoulders as he braces under her back. He slides his other arm beneath her knees and stands.

Her breathing remains steady, unflinching, as he carefully walks her towards the house.

Azriel chokes on disgust with himself as he notes that she is lighter than the last time he had the privilege of carrying her. He noticed the dark circles under her eyes on the night she found him outside the townhouse, but not the way her bones feel more pronounced as he holds her against him. All of the progress she made lost. This is because of him.

“Azriel?” Elain mutters. Azriel stops and looks down at her. Still fast asleep.

“Yes darling?"

“I’m dreaming aren’t I?”

He hesitates. Should he say no? Should he wake her and tell her the truth?

You are to stay away from her, Rhys's words echo in his mind. He exhales his breath and closes his eyes, steeling himself against his wishes and continues walking.

“Yes Elain, just a dream.”

“Good, I can do this in my dreams.”

He almost missed it, the quiet words that slipped from her lips. He stops in confusion, just in time to feel Elain's arms tighten around his neck to lift herself to his level. Azriel is frozen in shock as Elain presses her lips to his. Azriel stands utterly still, eyes wide in disbelief as Elain kisses him.

It's a soft thing, barely there, as if she's scared he would not reciprocate. Her lips just barely brush against his, not enough for him to taste her exactly the way he'd always wanted to but enough for him to feel the plushness he always imagined they'd hold, for the blood to drain from his brain and his breath to be knocked from his lungs.

He should stop it of course. It's unfair to her. It's not the first kiss from him that she deserves. Not to mention his High Lord's order.

But it is happening. It's the first kiss they're having. Right now. So he closes his eyes, abandons his inhibitions, and kisses her back. He holds her tighter to him and deepens the kiss with his own lips, moving along hers until they open and she inhales a breath before returning to his waiting mouth.

He will never be the same. He is forever changed. This can't be all they ever are. He will do whatever it takes.

Elain pulls away with a sigh and drops back into Azriel's hold, still sleeping. Azriel can't believe a lot about the last few minutes, but of the most surprising details is that she hasn't woken up. She won't remember this tomorrow.

She sleeps deeply when she finally finds sleep, his shadow whispers.

Azriel cringes at the thought of her lying awake, unable to find peace. It upsets him worse to think he is probably the cause. He shouldn't have accepted that kiss. He doesn't deserve it.

Elain is quiet as he carries her inside and up the staircase, floating on silent steps through the house to the room he knows is hers. Azriel turns to push the door open with his back and lays Elain in the sheets that she left earlier in the night, still sweet with her jasmine scent. It overwhelms him.

Azriel draws his arms out from underneath her, noting the way her eyebrows knit together as they lose their physical connection. He feels the same disappointment.

"I must fix this," he whispers, vowing to himself as he gazes upon her too thin sleeping form.

Azriel watches her breath rise and fall for one more second before turning from her bed and leaving the room.

Elain woke the next morning with an unexplained crick in her neck and a few leaves in her hair that confused her. But what confused her most was the lingering scent of cedar on her skin. She could have sworn her lips tingled from activity but decided she must have just had an interesting dream. But she can’t shake the feeling that something fundamental changed about her last night.

She bathed and dressed as she normally did. Judging by the sun, she was still up before the rest of the house even though it was later than she usually slept these days.

She was just finishing the braid in her hair as she walked towards the kitchen when she spotted him. She froze, considered turning around, but it was too late, he'd already seen her.

Elain stills in the doorway to the kitchen, unsure how to speak to him. They hadn't seen each other since their unexpected meeting days ago. She thought that might be all she saw of him for months again. She wasn't even sure that he was still in Velaris.

Azriel looks up to see Elain and he's immediately reminded of the way her lips felt against his last night. He hadn't slept a second since then. He paced around outside for hours before coming to pace around inside, then finally making his way to the kitchen and making himself a cup of tea while Elain slept upstairs. But one thing all of the pacing helped him decide was certain. He couldn't stay away from her. Even if she doesn't wish to be with him when she is awake, he had to see her get better at the very least. Rhys can damn him if he wishes.

She is wearing a dress that hasn't fit her since her first months in Prythian, when she was despondent, a shell of the female he came to know. How he hates that dress.

He wants feels her lips again. He wants to put his hands on her delicate face and kiss her with the truth dancing on his tongue. He wants to feed her until she regains the fullness she once had on her limbs, until her hips become rounded again and her collarbones less profound. Then burn that dress because she'll never need it again.

“Hello,” Azriel greets her calmly, showing remarkable restraint.

“Hello,” she answers, “you are still here.”

It's surprise he's still there that he picks up on in her tone, not dismay or vexation as he would have previously expected.

She doesn't remember, a shadow whispers into his ear.

“Yes,” he replies politely, “for the celebrations. Rhys insisted I stay home for Starfall. Feyre says she has missed me.”

“Yes,” Elain responds, attempting to reply the best she could as she struggles to find her breath. She did not expect to be alone again with him so soon after the townhouse. “Your absence is always so noticeable.”

Something aches in Azriel's chest at the words. He always assumes his absence is never felt. He can't imagine her missing him after the way he left her on Solstice and abandonment since. He is not sure how to respond, letting silence falls between them.

“Are you well?” Elain asks him, and he says a silent thank you for saving the conversation with such a gracious question.

“Yes,” he lies. Azriel notices they have not looked away from each other since she appeared in the doorway.

“Apart from not sleeping?”

Azriel chuckles, “How can you tell?”

Elain offers him a small smile as she gestures to her eyes, telling him she sees the darkness under his.

“Ah yes, how could I forget how observant you are?” Azriel muses.

Elain’s smile falls and Azriel realizes it was the wrong thing to say - pointing out how long he’s been away. How they’ve grown apart. Why they’ve grown apart.

“Am I in your way?” he hurries to ask, changing the subject when he notices that she has yet to enter the kitchen.

“No, of course not,” she answers. Still such a gentleman, Elain thinks to herself as ahe cautiously enters the kitchen and begins her morning routine.

Silence falls between them again as she fills the tea kettle with water to heat and gathers ingredients for the breakfast she is making for the family.

“I have missed being here as well,” Azriel breaks the silence. “Missed seeing Nyx grow and everyone’s laughter.” He pauses, unsure if he should continue. Fuck it. She needs to know, he thinks. “I have missed you.”

Elain turns from where she's working to face him, bracing her arms on the countertop behind her to keep her upright.

“You have?” utter surprise lines her features. This is far more words than she expected to be hearing from him upon his return. And far different words than she was expecting as well.

“You are surprised?” Azriel questions her from his seat, head tilted slightly in confusion. Of course he missed her, does she think his feelings have changed?

“Well…” she exhales her breath, “yes.”

“Why are you surprised, Elain?” Az asks gently, setting his papers aside and scooting his seat out, readying himself to stand at any moment.

“I thought…" Elain struggles, "because you said that… that it was a mistake,” she chokes out, her head dipping as her eyes fall to the ground in front of her.

Azriel would have rather been stabbed in the chest. Would have rather the wound in his abdomen that she healed just a few nights ago be ripped back open. It would have hurt less than hearing those words fall from her lips, as if she’s thought of them every day since like he has. Confirming his worst fear that the words he regrets the most have haunted her.

Azriel stands and takes a step closer to her. He knew this would come eventually, he just hadn’t been prepared for it to be today. He tries to dull the warmth in his chest as he realizes she did not take a step away from him.

“Elain no…” he begins. “I should never have said that,” he shakes his head, trying to meet her eyes. He cranes his neck to the side to see if she’ll look at him. “Your company is never a mistake.”

Her head remains dropped towards the floor, her gaze fallen, as if she doesn't believe him.

“I thought,” she whispers, “that you wouldn’t want to see me. Wouldn’t want to be near me after I came on to you so strongly and put you in such a position. I'm sorry for how I misunderstood you and made you uncomfortable. I was so selfish.” A tear slips from her eye and Azriel's heart breaks.

“No Elain, please listen,” he carefully approaches her, tilting her chin with his thumb and forefinger to meet his gaze. “The fault is all mine. It pains me to think you’ve felt this way when you did absolutely nothing wrong.” He can't believe these are the things she's been telling herself.

“You’ve been away because I’m still here. Your family has had to suffer not seeing you because of me.”

Is that what she believes? he thinks. However correct in a sense, it is not in the way she thinks.

“No," Azriel whispers, shaking his head in disbelief. He gently grabs her too thin wrists and internally winces at the size of them. He moves his hands down until they are cradling her own. She's trembling. Touching her at all is a risk. He's not sure he'll be able to stop. He didn't think himself capable of the restraint he is demonstrating right now. He wishes he could kiss every tear that falls from her eyes away. He wishes he could kiss her until she forgets about anything other than how devoted he is to her. "I can't explain fully, but it was an unrelated mission, I swear it. Believe me.”

She silently nods, dropping her eyes from his once again.

“I would have gone somewhere else if it meant you’d come home.”

“You belong here, Elain."

Her eyes lift back to his at his words.

“As do you, Azriel."

There is a silent pause as they stare at each other, unsure how much of what they have kept guarded that they should reveal to one another. Azriel has always had a silent way of getting her to open up. She has missed that.

“I thought about it," Elain states shyly, closing her eyes.

“About what?”

“Going somewhere else.”

“And where would you go?”

“Wherever he wanted.”

“He?” Azriel questions, fighting the panic rising from his gut. Elain opens her eyes.

“Lucien. If I accepted the bond.”

Azriel stares in silence, his eyes dancing from one of hers to the other. No, no, no. He can’t believe what he’s hearing. Did he push her to that? Did he make her feel like that was her only choice?

Did she stun him into silence? Elain wonders. She can’t believe how much conversation they’ve exchanged in just a few minutes. It’s as if he saves all of the words he doesn’t speak to others just for her. She longs to hear more. She longs to feel his hands in places other than holding hers. She wants more.

“I know everyone wishes me to.”

“No, Elain. not everyone.”

Something scares her about the tone with which he said that. She is not sure how to respond. Will he say that he does not wish her to?

“You should only accept it if it’s what you truly want for yourself. Not for anybody else. Not for what anyone expects of you.”

“It isn’t…. what I want. It will never be,” Elain firmly states. How many people does she have to convince?

Azriel lets out a long winded exhale.

“And he will live. Lucien is a reasonable male. I believe he will remain our ally even after," Azriel assures her.

Elain turns her head away from him, as if looking at him for too long hurts. Azriel understands that pain. But she nods. Maybe she believes him.

Maybe he can stay long enough to make her believe him.

“I am glad you are home,” she whispers. “Will you stay?”

“I hope so. At least for a while. There's something I need to do.”

Elain nods, not knowing that making sure she is okay is the thing that Azriel needs to do. She gently removes her hands from his grasp and Azriel realizes he was holding them all that time. He takes that as his sign to return to his seat.

Elain resumes her work on the breakfast hash for the household and they return to comfortable silence. Azriel pretends to review his papers while he secretly watches her move about the kitchen. Elain leaves their family's breakfast in a warming dish and places homemade scones by the kettle full of coffee before grabbing her own cup of tea and attempting to leave before Azriel notices that she didn't eat.

“Elain?” he calls after her.

“Yes?” she answers, turning to catch his hazel stare.

“Just a few nights ago, you screamed at me for treating myself as expendable.”

She stares blankly, unsure of where he is going with this.

“You must care for yourself as well as you care for the others. For all of us. You are not replaceable either, dear Elain.”

Her eyes widen with surprise, searching his for an explanation to his words.

“I am quite observant too,” he says.

I see you, his eyes seem to tell her. They may not notice, but I do.

She should feel embarrassed shouldn't she? To be so transparent. To have someone look at her and see it all, all of the secrets that she thought she'd been keeping so well.

But she is not embarrassed at all. She feels something awakening in her again that she thought she would never feel again.

Should she ask him? she wonders. He seems to be reaching out his hand. He seems to be enjoying her company again. Perhaps all is not lost.

“Would.." she begins, trying to find her voice again after being seen so thoroughly by him. "Would you like me to show you the gardens?” she asks.

"I would," Azriel smiles, standing from his seat once again and waiting for her to lead them out the door.

[lothirielswandc]

HANDMADE HEAVEN (LOVE + FEAR)

Read on AO3 here!

— D A Y S   L A T E R —

“You still won't tell me where we’re going?” Raven said. 

Damian smirked behind the wheel. He refused to disclose the location — or the nature of their trip for the past three days. 

“It’s a surprise,” Damian replied. 

Raven rolled her eyes. That was the closest to an explanation she’d get. More like a distraction…

The gorgeous Italian countryside blurred outside the Batmobile’s windows. Fields of vineyards were sprawled across the gentle hills, painted bronze by the sunset. When she rolled down the windows, the air was scented with herbs. 

Raven didn't know where she was going, but she certainly knew why. No one had spoken about her reaction to the Fear Toxin, but she knew they remembered. Raven could feel other’s alarm as she passed, worse than normal. 

Raven’s public image was…walking plague at best. The situation must’ve been bad if Lois Lane herself brushed off Metropolis to help get the story straight in Gotham.

Raven avoided the windows reflecting her face. Her public image was one thing. But her reputation among her peers (for lack of a better term) after sending half the Justice League to the hospital…Raven shuddered to think of it. A moment when Supergirl showered Raven with compliments flickered in the back of her mind. Would she still mean them?

“I’d like to spend more time with you,” Damian said, misinterpreting her silence. His head was completely turned away from the road. One hand just barely nudged the wheel.

Raven took hold of his chin and pointed his gaze back at the countryside. “You know I do, too. And I prefer it if we don't get into a freak accident along the way.”

“Are you questioning my driving skills?”

“I’m questioning your focus when I’m sitting right next to you,” Raven smiled. She felt his emotions splutter at her words. Being an empath used to feel like a curse, but now it was simply an added bonus to being around him.

Damian glanced away. Crimson bloomed in his cheeks. “Fair enough. But you don't seem very excited.”

Damian squeezed Raven’s fingers. Their hands were interlocked between the seats. 

Raven smiled briefly at their fingers meshed together on top of the gearshift. She wished it was just an impromptu getaway trip. It was sweet of Damian to pose it that way.

Her reply was soft, “It feels weird to make a mess and run away.”

“You didn't make a mess. We resolved the issue. All of the…inner turmoil has receded,” Damian shrugged.

Raven turned in the passenger’s seat to face him. It amazed her how nonchalant Damian was. After what she…did to Gotham. His home.

Damian glanced at her face and guessed what she was thinking. “I know you’re upset about it. I’m sorry. It’s hard to feel that way when I’m with you. But you shouldn’t worry about Gotham. It gets wrecked by clowns and psychotic killers on a daily basis.”

Wow. There was not an ounce of judgment in his statement. He must really like her.

“But you’re still meeting with Quinn for weekly Zoom sessions,” Damian relented.

“Oh?” Raven’s brow arched. “I’m shocked you’d allow that.”

“She is a licensed psychiatrist that is aware of everything first-hand,” Damian begrudgingly admitted. His eyes remained on the dirt road ahead. 

“And…?” 

Raven knew how much Damian still despised Harley Quinn. Now that she was so in tune with his feelings, Raven realized why he never approved of Ivy. Damian had never forgiven Harley Quinn for standing by when Joker annihilated Jason Todd. Anyone associated with Harley repulsed Damian…or used to.

Damian glared out the windshield. “Quinn helped us repel Darkseid’s attack and maintain order. She can be trusted.”

“Mmm.”

“Not that that implements the restoration of her sanity in any way. She’s still a fully licensed lunatic.” 

“What a compliment. I’m sure she’d love to hear that,” Raven said, smiling. 

The Batmobile slowed as they reached the cliffs. The Mediterranean lapped at the edges like a piece of turquoise silk fluttering in the wind. Gold stained the rivulets of the sea from the sunset. 

“It’s beautiful here,” Raven murmured.

Damian casted one pointed glance at her. “I’ve seen better.”

Raven squeezed his hand. The jerk of the car nearly separated their fingers as the Batmobile rolled off the road. It stopped before the cliffs bathed in orange. Just barely, Raven could hear the waves sigh as they caressed the sharp ridges. 

“Speaking of the Flashpoint, Father has suggested that you should help debug Cyborg,” Damian said.

Raven bit her lip. Wonder Woman revealed in her head why the Flashpoint was kept a secret: Victor Stone. Darkseid had spied on the Justice League through Cyborg’s tech before the Flashpoint. 

Batman thought it was only logical to assume he did the same in their new reality. Thus no one had told Vic yet, for fear Darkseid would retaliate and shut down his systems.

Raven hated keeping Vic in the dark, but the thought of him disassembling before her eyes —

“I’m not the best at techno-magic,” Raven said. Vic deserved an expert: a fixer. Not a destroyer. 

“I trust your expertise better than Constantine’s,” Damian’s face puckered.

“I don't know. You hardly trust me with a stove, you think it’s wise to unleash me on Vic’s mind?”

“I wouldn't mind a little unleashing.”

“I suppose I should be grateful for that,” they shared a smile. 

Silence filled the car. Damian’s fingers fiddled with her hand, tracing the lines on her palm. Raven scooted closer to lean her head on his shoulder. The aroma of pine clung to his gray collared shirt.

They looked out at the magnificent birth of twilight together, the vibrant colors undiluted from the heavy tint of the windshield.

“Why did you stop?” Raven asked.

“I like looking out at the waves. Brings back memories.” Damian raised her hand to his lips.

Raven marveled at the lightness that encompassed her body. It was such a rare feeling before Damian. Now it was almost as if the sensations had always been there.

Raven’s last memory of the Flashpoint rose up in comparison to the scene before them. Holding hands, looking at a slightly altered horizon. Every part of the memory was nearly picture perfect. Damian at her side. Her powers fully under her control. The gem on her forehead silent.

I’m still here!

Oh, I know.

Raven didn’t ignore the fact that Trigon hadn't even attempted to escape while everyone was in her head. It was the perfect opportunity. The worst Trigon had done was one instance of scaring Constantine. 

I know you. You chose to stay for a reason. And I will find out why. With that, Raven shut out his voice and nuzzled her face into Damian’s arm. The scent of him was distracting. 

“What do you think would’ve happened to us? After Darkseid left the world a mess?” Raven wondered.

“Hmm…” the tip of Damian’s nose brushed against her knuckles. “That would've been a mess to clean. In terms of us, however…”

Raven looked up. Damian’s face was right before hers. Raven held her breath for his reply. 

“My life would’ve been you. That might sound vague, but there’s no better description of it.”

Raven smiled. She could picture exactly what Damian meant. Soft words exchanged in bookstores and bringing tissues to John Wick movies. Taking turns holding an umbrella as they stroll through Gotham. More of her cooking mistakes and even more of his cooking miracles. Fates entwined like their interlocked fingers.

“A happy ending,” Raven said. “That sounds perfect.”

Raven closed the gap between them, her lips brushing his. The soft pressure of it never failed to make her heart spasm.

The heat of Damian’s breath scalded her lips. She clutched at his clothes, closing the distance between them. Damian groaned into her mouth.

For once, with extreme delight, Raven threw self-control to the wayside. 

She pushed her seatbelt away, not breaking their kiss as Raven sank into his lap. When Damian broke away for breath, Raven’s tongue trailed down his throat. He shuddered beneath her. 

Raven fingered the top button of his collared shirt. She glanced through her eyelashes at his face. 

“Now?” Damian’s voice was rough. It sent shivers down her spine. 

Raven’s thumb traced the outline of the button. She nodded.

“I was waiting until we reached a bed for —”

“I really don't care.” Raven pressed her mouth back to his, tongue tracing the outline of his lips before diving in. 

Raven’s fingers gave into temptation. She flew through the buttons to the chiseled lines underneath, hot and rigid like heated iron rods. He shivered from her touch, tracing the mold of muscles always shielded by fabric. 

Damian’s hands moved behind her, feeling the edges of her blouse. His fingers sank underneath, stroking fire against her skin. 

They paused only as Damian lifted Raven’s shirt over her head. His hands explored newly exposed skin.

Raven ground into his lap, suddenly pleased at the fashion choice of wearing a skirt.

Damian gently gripped the hair at the back of Raven’s skull and pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. He licked his lips.

“You can feel it, can't you?” he said. “Even when I can't put it into words?” 

Raven nudged her nose against his. Every inhale was Damian, overtaking her senses. She could taste the pleasure in the air. Fireworks burst across her body where her bare skin touched his. Damian’s emotions were more in tune with hers than they ever were before.

“I have enough words for the both of us,” she assured him. “Starting with ‘take off your pants.’ ”

Damian smirked. “Is that a command?”

Raven’s nails trailed down his back. She nodded. 

Damian laughed quietly.

“Yes, my beloved.”

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 3

whats playing: Ivy by Frank Ocean

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues, first few chapters are flashbacks to high school, they WILL NOT be explicit just fluff.

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

A/N: Didn't think I'd have the entire "before" aspect of this story drag on so long but the angst is so needed. There is nothing angstier than an unrequited high school romance. This is a short one. The Javi we know will come soon, mama is working!

Also... it will be very clear that I don't know much about the police... surely not business I care about either! Go along with whatever I say though.

word count: 3.8k

Your first kiss was technically one that you didn’t ask for so to make up for it, a week later you got shit faced at Monica’s and sucked face with Daniel from chemistry, a junior. Half of it was because you were fresh off seeing Lorraine and Javier kiss in the hallway just 2 hours prior so making out with Daniel was kind of a no brainer.  

Your shoes squeaked against the polished school tiles, still in your gym attire. Your hair tied in a ponytail as you walked to get your clothes from the locker, you didn’t really trust the gym lockers after a top of yours got stolen. Steps from behind you hurry. “You hooked up with Daniel?” Javier’s voice echoed in the empty hall. Eyes widening. Your eyes scan the hall for on lookers. 

He stands next to you, shortening his steps once he's leveled. Using his own line on him with narrowed eyes, “Don’t you have class? Stalker…” You hadn't really spent time together after new year’s but he and Lorraine sent a bouquet of flowers to your house on your 16th birthday. Catching up in the halls was what had to suffice. He’d tell you how it was going with Lorraine and then you would find an excuse to hurry away before getting too jealous.

He lifts the wooden pass, “It’s called a bathroom break cariño, answer my question.” He uses a pet name that he’s been fond of recently. You purse your lips trying to hide the smile, he catches on and returns it. God, any display of endearment could have you in a puddle at his feet. 

Despite the little worms in your brain screaming, sexy man, sexy man, alert alert, you manage to ground yourself to answer his invasive question. “I did, although its none of your business.” You wanted it to be his business so bad, but you knew he truly didn’t care for the reasons you wanted him to. He cared in that over-protective overbearing friend way. Emphasis on friend. You approach your locker and he leans against the one next to it. His broad stance always gets you, those guys in your brain are getting loud again when you notice his collarbone poking out his shirt as he leaned. His eyes imitating the narrowed look you gave him a few seconds prior. It’s been this way in school, back and forth teasing.

It drove you insane.

He sucks his teeth, “It became my business when I have to defend you in a locker room, Daniel had quite the mouth on him.” He mutters a see how long that will last. Your cheeks were red already from the workout, thank god. Always on your side. He peaks into your locker, spotting an orange sitting on your textbooks and grabs it. You slap his hand but he was already peeling.

Curiosity sparking in you, “What did he say.”

Javier’s lips went to a straight line and he shakes his in disapproval. “I’m not telling you.” The tips of his thumbs dripping with the citrusy juice. It made your stomach pit, wanting to pull his thumb into your mouth and lick him clean.

What am I thinking...

You chest stutters in a breath and you snatch the orange from his hand, earning a hey… from him.

“What. Did. He. Say.” You cross your arms, hiding the orange. Any more of that erotic fruit touching and you were going to pounce him. He stands up straight, a smirk playing on his lips. “Tell me.” You demand. You kind of felt silly in that moment but he seemed to be amused at your conviction. Javier’s face drops for a moment, his eyes doing that thing when he looks down at you.

His arms cross mirroring your stance. “He said you were a great kisser for a cherry.” your eyebrows pull together confused. Your arms drop. Cherry? Was I wearing cherry Chapstick?

“A cherry?”

“A virgin you idiot” He grabs the orange, and your eyes go wide not even caring as he continued to make a mess with the fruit. “I told him not to be so vulgar just so you know, s’gross” he mutters. You feel the sentiment in his voice, but anger rushes over you. It expressed itself with a sigh and a slam shut of the locker. You look back at him eating the fruit, stupid fucking orange. 

With the thought of Daniel telling your personal business to a group of pervs you begin walking back to gym with a bit of frustration in your step. Javier was still following like a lost puppy, like he was waiting for something. You take in a shaky breath as you look back to him, his eyes wide and worried that he might've ruined your mood. “Thank you- for always being on my side.” You admit and his eyes go to that place that it usually went when looking at you. You wanted to say softness and in your dreams, it was adoration. But it couldn’t be.

His lips flatten and he nods, “I always will be you know.” He confesses and your eyes fall to your sneakers, nodding at the ground. This was a bit too much for you in this moment. You feel like you could burst. 

The two of you approach the large wooden doors to your gym class. You stop and he follows. You look up to him with a look of adoration, one you thought he had just given you, you just couldn’t help it. And you felt-just for a moment. You felt like he actually mirrored it. Like he finally looked at you with the look you were giving him.

The still air of the hallway and the sounds of students working behind closed doors throws you for a loop then remind you of where you were at. Back to earth Andrea.

 You awkwardly point to the door and he nods. “I-um.” You laugh, “I have to change.”

“Yeah-yeah. I’ll see you around Andrea.” He reaches out for your shoulder and squeezes it before walking away. Your stomach rises and falls at the grab, feeling like this had been a moment between you two. You tucked it in the corner of your mind next to every other interaction you romanticized. 

“Are you even hard?” The familiar voice comes from his lap. He blinks a few times seeing Lorraine’s head covering his length. He shakes his head for a moment and she frowns, moving her mouth from Javi. She sits up in the car seat, wiping her mouth and he tucks himself back in his jeans. His heart skips a beat in embarrassment but his mind wasn't in the moment  The truth was his thoughts were everywhere but in the car with his girl in his lap. And It wasn’t like it was bad, him and Lorraine did this so often but for some reason it felt wrong in that moment.

He zips up his pants, looking out at the dirt road they had parked at when she slipped her hand over his jeans while he drove out of school. She did things like that often, she really was the breeder type. Always wanting to have sex, Javier didn’t mind of course. He loved it, it was the one thing he knew he was good at. And shit, at that point it was holding them together. “I’m sorry baby.” He reaches to grab her hand, bringing it to his lips. She can’t help but smile. Lorraine had really liked Javier, they argue lots but she knew that he had a caring heart. And she wasn’t going to give up on him just because they had arguments, even explosive ones.

“What’s on your mind my love?” She twitches her hand to signal that she wanted him to kiss it again. You hadn’t known that Javier and Lorraine argued so much, you would have never been able to tell. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell you. Javier almost shudders at the nickname, for some reason it felt… he wasn’t sure. Inappropriate? Wrong?

But Javier’s mind had been occupied for many reasons. The biggest being the call he got two weeks prior. A request from a recruiter from the police training he had been at in the summer. They were going on about how he’d be legal this summer and how they’d like to get him on track with joining the force and providing "schooling accommodations". They had a heavy emphasis on “needing younger guys.”

He sat in silence in his room after the call, staring at his Houston PD poster overhead. 

Being a cop-not even- just being someone to protect had been his dream. There had been some deeply rooted issues that made him try to grapple at any opportunity to make someone feel safe, he felt far too young to tackle whatever that feeling was. But when he got a taste of it during his year in Houston, he knew it was were he wanted to be. Of course, he inquired about the “accommodations” which really were him dropping out and taking the GED instead, so he could move over to Houston, alone. Javier though, was comfortable here again. He had his girl, and his dad.

Frankie-Andrea. Andrea. You. He couldn’t bare leave you at that school by yourself. He felt kind of silly for thinking that way, he knew you could handle pretty much anything but he hated the thought of not even being there. It was simple to him, he liked being around you. At times he felt like it was you who was his best friend, not Frankie. You never pried, you never asked for too much, you never bickered and you were always happy to see him. He wasn't used to a simple relationship. He feared that maybe he liked mess, maybe he liked arguing and fights but then he was reminded of the calm your presence caused him. It wasn't that he liked mess, he might've liked having one thing to make things feel better, almost a taunting image of what good could look like in his life. Javier closed his eyes in a fit of shaking breaths when he got the call, he saw your face in the dark. He couldn't stand to leave you. He hadn’t realized how much he hated that idea until he came back after your year apart.

 The locker room earlier today proving that. Peeling off his shoes, applying deodorant. Daniel was sitting on the changing bench. He had barely participated in gym so his maintenance wasn’t as tedious like volleyball season for gym. Now that’s how you got Javier to participate.

“And she even touched me through my jeans, I almost-fuck man” He laughs loudly, a few other knuckle heads laughing with him. Javier listened on but wasn’t too intrigued, he had a few friends outside of Frankie and them- and they sure as hell weren’t losers like Daniel and his little posse of idiots.

“Man, you’re lucky. I saw her leaving gym a few days ago, it should be illegal to let girls wear those shorts in school.” Another voice snorting like a dork. Javier pinches the bridge of his nose at the idiocy. “Especially freshman.”

Javier leans against the locker, his face now screwing in confusion. “Who are y’all talking about?” Walking over to sit next to Daniel, fixing his shoes. He never really cared to get into that whole locker-room talk. It was all a bit juvenile, and he had a girl-

Daniel grins, “The freshman, Andrea- one with big lips- she’s a cherry but sure as hell could kiss”

 Javier didn’t expect to react the way he did, he didn’t expect to feel so much anger. So much anger at just a sentence. Just him using his crooked smile to utter your name bothered him, let alone the subject matter. Andrea, you had been someone he spent so much yet so little time with but so stupidly spent so much time aimlessly worrying about. He worried about you too much. Especially after new years. Your face solemn and full of tears. He never wanted to see that again and he secretly promised himself if he ever made you cry he’d punish himself endlessly.

Crossing his arms Javier speaks in the calmest way he can, “Alright. Don’t talk about her like that” It was the calmest way, but with the look on Daniels face he knew his version of calm may be a bit different. It was a shocked one before a face of inquisition forming on his rat like face.

Javier was unfazed, with his face being dead serious. Daniel nods slowly with an approving smile his tongue rolling against his cheek, “Oh- I’ve seen you two in the hall, she’s your friends sister right?” He laughs and the minions laugh as well. In that moment Javier had felt nearly as violent as the night at the bar. Javier gets up, knowing if he stayed in that room he was going to be in the back of a cop car. Wont be the best look for him since he has plans of driving one in a few months. That would be regrettable.

But seeing their faces and replaying the things they had said before he knew it was about Andrea was enough. At that point he didn’t give a fuck about regret. “I’m just saying, she’s a good girl and if I catch you talking about her again-i’ll break your jaw.” He spits, his voice intimidating but not nearly as dominant as his broad presence alone. The air in the room shifting to quiet and dull, the boys with shut mouths-shits not funny now huh? Javier gives Daniels stupid face one more look before exiting the locker room.

His fists flexing at his side, walking off the anger rising in his chest. 

Javier couldn’t help but ask you about Daniel when he saw you in the hall. He felt a sick feeling in his stomach that he wrote off as disappointment in you but it was probably something else.  

Maybe his dad was right, he really was going to struggle when you get a boyfriend. You had been in his life for so long, he met you when you were just a girl in pigtails and hearing you being talked about in such a vulgar way…

It was a new feeling he wasn’t ready to address.

Your cheeks were rosy from coming out of gym, it reminded him of two summers ago-the summer before his year in Houston. How you guys would bike a lot more than get into trouble in his basement. You would yell at the rest for going too fast and Javier would slow down to be at your side while Genie and Frankie would race.

You been a bit distant since New Years. And it’s been driving him crazy. He couldn’t stop thinking about you being alone the second the ball dropped, probably looking for him while they were all distracted-and for that person to take advantage of that moment. Javi felt ill after dropping you off at home, wanting to go back to the bar and really give the creep what he deserved.

You confirmed that you did in fact hook up and an familiar feeling came about, the one different from disappointment. “What. Did. He. Say.” You demand and Javier can’t help but smile at how determined you were to hear the things he didn’t want to repeat. And your lips were big, he guesses he never really noticed. He hadn’t noticed because your smile usually thinned them out, your were always smiling. Especially around him, that didn’t go unnoticed for Javier. Not at all. “Tell me.”

Your tone changes and shamefully, Javier feel his blood rush. You can tell from Javier’s face dropping in that moment.

Fuck this.

Javier repeats the vulgarity, and he sees that it frustrates you, even before he explained what a “cherry” was. Javier tried to explain that he didn’t just let them talk about you, especially not with him around. He would never let that happen, he didn’t say it out right but he wished you knew that. He could tell that him being away-him dating Lorraine-he could tell you felt like you were in an awkward position, like you felt like he wasn’t truly your friend.

And it frustrated him. He couldn’t stop thinking about your face before parting ways at the gym door. Your doe eyed look, like you were holding back. And maybe he was too.

“Javi?” Lorraine’s hands flattened over his arm and centered him back to earth. Javi looks to her again; her dark brows made her dirty blonde hair look lighter. She always looked at him like she was in need of something more from him. It was the root of the most of their arguments. He blinks a few times wondering what he was talking about again.

“Will you move with me to Houston?” He blurts before the thought fully develops in his brain. The thought ran through him for a second a few minutes prior before the words came up in his throat. Shock in his body, he was shocked at his own request.

Surprisingly, she isn’t shocked herself. She smiles from ear to ear and Javier feels like he could be sick. Move with me? Are we even that serious? I can’t just say never mind. 

Sorry Lorraine, I was thinking about Andrea so I accidentally asked you to move with me to a whole other part of the state.

Oh my god, there’s tears in her eyes.

“Of course.” She gleams and nearly hops over the console to pull him close. Kissing him, kissing him again. His eyes open and in shock at his question, in shock that she accepts so quickly

You hadn’t known that Javier was dropping out for the police academy, you also didn’t know he was moving away with his girlfriend of 4 months. You were oblivious to it all while Javi and Lorraine planned their lives in secret. Lorraine was a senior and had planned to go to a college in Houston anyway, she was over the moon with the idea that she gets to be alongside Javier.

You had been quite oblivious despite Javier suddenly asking you to come over more often- “Chucho misses you.” you would oblige but always take someone along, being alone with Javier and Lorraine felt a bit too much at times. You kind of hoped that being around him and Lorraine would make you like him less, but you were doomed because for some crazy reason it made you want him more. It was almost every day that you stayed at his house.

He had even showed up to your first lacrosse game. It wasn’t your most attractive look in a collared shirt and pleated skirt, completely sweat through, chasing down the field. Fuck why did girls’ lacrosse sticks have to be so much harder to cradle.

Javier and Lorraine’s voices were the loudest ones from the stands, “ANDREA PUSH HER?!” Their voices mix from the bleachers up the hill. You try your best not to get distracted as you mercilessly hit the girl on the opposing team with your stick before driving the ball into the net. Shocked at the score and the fact that your ball stayed in its place. You’d be a fool to say you hadn’t tried harder because he was there.

Ridiculous and unserious screams from the bleachers.

Later, Monica squeezes water into your mouth after the win. She twisted her ankle two days before the start of the season, it was unfortunate, but she had run around the team limping as a personal coach to every girl. “Javier is literally in love with you.” You furrow your brows, cheeks full of water before swallowing. Shaking your head in disapproval.

Despite your multiple efforts to rid the crippling infatuation with Javier it truly only grew deeper. Every hang out he was sweeter, kinder and stared at you longer. It drove you mad. And honestly you just wished he’d leave you alone, maybe the crush would pass. Of course, hooking up with people didn’t help either. You would regret it the next day and, in the hall, Javier would complain about it. “You have to choose men more wisely Drea.” You mimic his baritone voice in your head.

The only “wise” choice you wanted was the one you couldn’t have.

You focus back on Monica, wiping your mouth dripping with water. “Him and Lorraine are practically married at this point.” Your own choice of words causing you to wince. God, would you have to attend their wedding? Are you going to have to watch him live his life out, without you?

Monica laughs, her classic snort falling from her. “You’re probably right, I’m just trying to feed your delusion.” Her words do not come as a comfort-but as everything but that- like a stab wound. You push her playfully and scoff. Javier in his tight pants and boots walks down the hill to meet you post game. You wipe the sweat at your hairline off quickly, smelling yourself as he looks back to see if his girlfriend was following. Your nose screwing for a second.

Whelp, you could smell worse.

Monica mutters something about the bride and groom approaching. You can’t help but want to push her and break her other ankle so that she has to get wheeled around school. Javier’s smile is bright, his eyes doing the thing. “You’re a beast Andrea” He compliments, and you were already giggling like an idiot. You could feel Monica’s judging eyes. You shrug as if scoring 2 points was nothing for you, it was a big deal-even if the other school was absolutely horrible.

He shoves your shoulder and Lorraine squeezes your other sweaty arm. “My gosh-I wish I had a video camera at that moment, freshman scoring in her first varsity game.” Her dimples deepen. A shy smile forms on your face at her sentiment, You looked at the two of them. They were so good together.

Perfect.

 Even if today you decided to cut them from my life- you would never get to escape them. They were the talk of the town, surprised they didn’t have a camera crew following them around An-American-Family-style. You give an appreciative nod to the couple, which they assumed was because of the compliment they just gave but it was a nod of understanding.

Understanding that you never really belonged. Not with Javier or in a relationship as good as that. You needed that understanding; he had loved her and despite you loving him-nothing will change that simple fact of him loving her.

[lindwyvrm]

“QUEEN IVY! QUEEN IVY!!!” Kagetsu’s shouting causes a few people to cover their ears as he sprints past them down the hall, but he doesn’t notice. He’s too focused on getting over to Ivy to notice anything else at all. Tunnel vision is a powerful thing.

“There you are, Queen Ivy! I have found you at last!” He nearly reaches out to grab her arm once he’s close enough, just to get her attention in his excitement (and perhaps prevent her from walking away in the event she’s upset with him for leaving her side for a time), but he’s able to hold himself back. He doesn’t want to overstep any boundaries, even if he is overjoyed to see her again. 

He may have left Elusia without her, but he’s still always considered himself as ‘Retainer to Princess Ivy’ (even if the ‘Princess’ part may now be inaccurate) first and foremost. Before even the new occupation of ‘Sword Instructor’ he has now instead, the one he’s meant to prioritize. “…I am deeply sorry to have left you and my responsibilities as your retainer behind, Queen Ivy. I swear, I had always intended to return.”

He says it, and he means it, but he doesn’t know if she’d believe it. He doesn’t know if he’d believe that. He doesn’t have the best track record of returning to places he left, after all. He can only hope it’s taken as the truth he wants it to be.

“But, now you are here, and I am here, too! So there is no issue! What house have you aligned yourself with? I will have my office moved nearby at once!“ Something he thinks he’s technically not allowed to do, but who cares. Ivy > Rules.

Ivy hears him before she sees him — as typical of bold, enthusiastic Kagetsu. He is practically shoving his way down the hallway to get to her, skidding to a stop just an arm’s length away. His shoulder tenses — she sees the brief flash of consideration in his eyes — before he relaxes and drops his arm. 

“Kagetsu,” she greets, smiling — his joy is infectious. She relishes in the familiar feeling of turning and seeing him by her side. The loyalty of her retainers is never forgotten, and the nervousness of being on foreign soil is already greatly alleviated by his presence. “It is good to see you, my friend. I thought I had seen your name on the staff directory, but I almost couldn’t believe it…”

Indeed, the image of Kagetsu standing at a chalkboard and giving a lecture to a troupe of attentive pupils is nearly enough to make her laugh aloud, though she suspects his instruction veered more towards the practical than the theoretical. She could only imagine what his teaching sounded like — she thinks he must be popular amongst the student populace.

Ivy raises her eyebrows at his apology. “There is nothing to be sorry for, Kagetsu. If you wanted to see the world, who am I to stop you? It’d be like caging a bird of prey. …and you’d always have a place in Elusia, if you truly wished to return.”

Kagetsu means every word he says, every syllable earnest and sincere. It had taken Ivy quite a while to realize this; but it had been as she said: she has no doubt that he’d want to return, but he is like the far-reaching wind. Of course she wanted him to return, but she could not clip his wings and force him to stay if his feet desired to wander.

His enthusiasm returns within the next heartbeat, sunlight bursting through thin gray clouds. He is right. The issue would arise eventually, but they have this moment — and plausibly many more in front of them. 

“I chose the Black Eagles — I have no penchant for axe-wielding, but the school of Reason had always fallen well within my expertise. Move your office? I’m not sure how the administration will take such a notion… Such a request will certainly take a great deal of deliberation. Why don’t we get something to eat in the meantime? I’m sure you have accrued a great number of stories. I’d like to hear them — I do miss hearing your tales.”

[thexsanctuaryx]

{ I'm So Sorry }

Summary: Marc goes to apologize to Emma the day after an intense argument but not before beating himself up about everything that went down and a stern talking to from Steven and Jake. Prompt: "I'm so sorry." from @ivystoryweaver Ivy's Angstember Event Pairing: Original Character { Emma Harper } x Marc Spector mentions of Emma Harper x Steven Grant && Emma Harper x Jake Lockley Contents: angst as fuck, hurt/comfort, happy ending Warnings: heavy self-loathing, arguments, mentions of severe mental illness, swearing, I think that's it? Author's Note: 21 days into the Angstember Event and I'm starting at the beginning with the prompt from Day 1. Yolo. Word Count: 1,565

He’s sure he’s pushed her away for the last time.

One last powerful bout of self-loathing projected onto her and he’s sure that’s it. His thoughts run wild with crippling fear and paralyzing doubt.

She’d tried so hard to calm him and ease all of the pain he was inflicting on himself, but he’d only pushed her harder.

‘Don’t you get it?! This is just who I am! This is just what I do!’ He’d yelled.

‘Marc—that’s not true…’ She replied so softly, reaching for him.

As her fingers had grazed his arm, he’d torn it away. ‘Yes, it is, Emma!’

‘No…’ She’d insisted. ‘You’re just—’

‘Don’t you dare say different…’ He’d cut her off, pointing a finger at her, using their own words against her.

She’d flinched then, ‘I was gonna say ‘upset’…’

‘Just go! Leave! We both know you want to…’

She’d started crying then, and he’d only hated himself even more. She’d been patient up until then, in fact, she’d remained patient even after. She’d grabbed her bag, sniffling quietly and trying to conceal her tears. Her voice had shaken around the words, try as she had to say them clearly. The softest, “I love you…” and then she’d exited through the door.

It haunts him even now realizing that after she’d walked out that door, she’d had to call someone for a ride home at best, or order an Uber to come pick her up on the side of the road at worst.

That’s what he’d done to her—thrown her out in the street on a cold, rainy September night because he couldn’t deal. But it was worse than that. He hadn’t even told her he loved her back because he was so sure he didn’t deserve her love in the first place. He’d accused her of wanting to leave despite countless attempts to soothe him and remind him that she didn’t.

And he’d watched her go. Hadn’t even tried to go after her despite how desperately he’d wanted to.

What was worse – the other two hadn’t been around when he did it, leaving him to explain the next day why she wasn’t there; why he was so hungover.

That was another fight altogether.

‘Marc, if you don’t go right now, and fix this—’ Steven had said firmly, usually the one to be softer with Marc when things got hard.

Marc had looked in the reflection of their mirrored closet door, leaned over the side of the bed.

Jake had stood quietly, stern look across his features, ‘Don’t look at me, hermano—Steven’s right…’

‘You’re damn bloody right I am!’ Steven had released the bridge of his nose he was pinching.

‘She’s not gonna wanna see me guys—I really fucked up this time…’

‘You fucked up?’ Steven had repeated incredulously. ‘And how ‘re we gonna fix this if you don’t go talk t’ her…’

‘Maybe—one of you should—’

‘Oh no—no—I’ll be there for moral support an’ all but you’ve gotta fix this yourself…’

‘He’s right again, Marc—we can’t apologize for you—she doesn’t want to hear it from us—and she deserves to hear it from you…’

After that, he’d taken three ibuprofen, swallowed a whole glass of water, and taken a long, too hot shower. Thankfully, they’d supported him through that too. He felt awful to say the least. If he didn’t feel like throwing up because of the hangover, he felt it because of the nerves.

Images and soundbites from the night before replayed in his head over and over near to the point of madness. Thinking about that only made him feel worse. He could’ve done more damage than he’d previously realized. If she was even put into a situation that was too high stress it could cause her to go over the edge of psychosis.

At the idea, he’d begun to move much faster than he had been, worry suddenly spinning within him. He’d all but sped to her apartment, even if he knew she would only just be getting up. He’d stopped along the way at her favorite coffee shop, picking up breakfast and something to drink for them both. It felt like a cheap, shitty excuse for an apology, not enough after everything he’d put her through.

As he stood about to knock on her apartment door, his hand shook. He took a deep breath in but didn’t get a chance to even make contact with the door as her best friend opened it.

Caroline stood with her arms crossed all but blocking the way in. “Ya know?” She’d started, seeming to get so frustrated she’d forgotten what she’d been about to say. She’d sighed, softening as she glanced over her shoulder toward Emma’s bedroom. “Come in…--she’s awake but it’s gonna be like pulling teeth to get her out of bed…”

Marc had nodded, releasing a heavy sigh, “I’m so—”

“Ah! Don’t you dare apologize to me before you apologize to her…”

He’d nodded again and stepped inside.

“I’m gonna go to Cam’s—give you guys some privacy—” She’d paused, “please don’t make me pick her up on the side of the road at 10PM in the rain, again, Spector—” Her voice had gotten even softer, reaching to give his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “—okay?”

“Okay…” He almost inaudibly replied.

She’d taken her leave and he’d taken another deep breath. He took off his jacket and shoes and made his way toward her room.

When he’d found her, she was curled up in a ball facing away from the doorway. She’d sniffed quietly, knowing he was there and doing what she could to again, hide any tears she’d shed because of the fight.

He moves now to set the drink tray on her bookshelf opposite the foot of her bed, placing the paper bag beside it. He rounds the corner of the empty side of her bed, his side of the bed.

His eyebrows squeeze tightly together, rising in the center as he sits in front of her. He looks as pained as she feels as her eyes rise slowly and timidly to his.

“Hey baby…” He starts, his voice tremoring as he fights off tears, himself. “I am so sorry…” He finishes in a whisper. He shakes his head slowly, struggling to hold her eyes. “Please don’t leave us…please don’t leave me…”

Almost before he can even finish, she’s sitting up and crawling into his lap, clinging to him.

His arms find their way snugly around her middle, cradling her firmly to him. His fingers sink deeply into her hair, pressing a series of firm kisses to her temple. “I love you so much, baby, I’m so sorry…”

Emma struggles to find her voice no matter how badly she wants to reply in kind. She withdraws just enough to look between his eyes, timidly pressing her lips to his.

His lips only catch hers, pulling strongly at them as he continues to cradle her against himself. He releases a deep sigh against her just before she pulls back. She shyly signs to him that it’s okay and that she loves him too.

Guilt clutches his heart again, when she doesn’t speak verbally. He strokes his fingers through her hair again, combing it back around her ear. “Are you okay?” He asks gently, his eyes slowly scaling her face.

She’s quick to nod, again signing that she is now. She chokes back a soft sob of a laugh, even as a few more tears slip down her face. She presses another grateful kiss to his lips and then points over toward the coffee, asking silently if he’s brought breakfast.

His lips bounce off of hers gently as he gives another long sigh of relief, brushing her tears away carefully. “It’s admittedly not homemade—but I was thinking we could at least have breakfast in bed…”

Her face brightens, shifting out of his lap and shooing him off the bed.

He doesn’t need her to say anything else—verbally or nonverbally—to know she wants him to get more comfortable. Though that doesn’t stop her from teasingly signing for him to ‘play the part.’ At which point he strips off his jeans and t-shirt, before grabbing the tray and the bag and bringing them back to where she sits animatedly waiting.

She pulls the blankets back so he can climb inside and then snuggles right back up to him, leaning in to press a slow kiss to his throat unable to resist inhaling his scent.

His muscles, once tense, begin to relax as her lips brush his skin. He hands her, her coffee and likewise can’t resist the urge to softly insist. “Y’know I really don’t deserve you…”

Emma takes the cup and immediately swats him in the stomach, scowling and wagging a finger in a not-so-formal way of telling him not to go there.

“A compliment—not an accusation, baby…” He defends.

She rolls her eyes and only holds onto him tighter.

‘Thank the bloody gods…’ Steven grumbles in his mind, looking at his wit’s ends in the reflection of her bedroom windows.

“Steven says hi…” He teases, his tone indicating just how much trouble he’s in.

Emma snorts and presses another kiss to the edge of his jaw, before settling again and finally taking a sip from her coffee.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

I wanna ruin our friendship

Timari Januray: Day 25 (You mean platonically?) by @maribat-calendar-events

Summary: We should be lovers instead.

Back to Timari January 2023 Masterlist

Marinette hugged a bundle of flowers to her chest. She knew she should probably loosen her grip, flowers were delicate things and she certainly didn’t want to give Tim wrinkled flowers, but her body didn’t seem to want to comply with her.

She had done a lot of death-defying things in her life. Had had a gun pointed at her head more times than she could count. Had befriended some of the most dangerous people to exist. Had fallen asleep unsure if she would ever wake up.

So why was this what had nerves clawing at her throat?

She had asked out plenty of people before, had been asked out even more times. Granted, most of those relationships weren’t exactly serious, but she wasn’t inexperienced. She shouldn’t be hovering just out of range of the cameras he had set up outside of his base, shouldn’t be considering walking away as heavily as she was.

But there she was, staring down at a carefully selected bouquet, wondering if she could just toss it aside and go up to him as normal. It would be easy. No one had to know.

She didn’t have to know.

She scuffed her shoe on the concrete.

She didn’t want to lose Tim.

But he deserved to know either way.

She took a deep breath in, taking in the many different mingling scents of the flowers in her hands. Aster, daisies, gardenias, and morning glories all to say that she loved him. Forget-me-nots to say she wanted to make lovely memories with him. All tied together into a lovely smattering of white, blue, and purple.

Okay.

She walked the rest of the way to his safehouse. This one was just a regular apartment, but it was close to the meeting he needed to go to later. It took her less than five minutes to get there, and the time was gone in an instant.

The door swung open before she had even knocked, as usual. He had probably been watching since she had walked past the first camera.

“Any longer and I was going to go looking in alleys to see if you were getting mugged.” And then his eyes landed on the bundle in her hands for real and his head jerked back in quiet surprise. His face did a complicated twist she couldn’t make sense of. “Oh. I see. You got harassed by a flower vendor, huh?”

“No,” she said, laughing a little at the mental image of Tim shaking down a poor man just trying to sell bouquets for an apology. “I – uh – got these on purpose.”

Tim tipped his head to the side. “Oh. Did you get asked out?”

She shook her head quickly. “Not unless you count getting catcalled by the construction workers outside of GU. I don’t, they’re not really asking for a date, y’know? And they’re not being all that gentleman-ly about it, if I’m honest. I mean, I’m not that hard to please, but even I’m not swayed by ‘hey baby why don’t you come over here for a bit’. Like, really, is that the best you have –?”

Oh, great, she was rambling.

Thank god he cut her off: “Then what’s with the flowers?”

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

She had just gotten rid of her excuses.

Guess she really was committing to this.

“Tim, I’d like to take you on a date!” She blurted, holding them out.

There was a beat where his eyes widened. He looked down at the flowers for a moment. She knew he knew flower language, he had encountered Riddler and Poison Ivy too many times to not pick anything up. He knew that the overall message was a very clear I love you. He knew that the inclusion of borage meant to take the other flowers literally.

And, if he didn’t, the words ‘I’d like to take you on a date’ done while offering flowers should have cleared things up rather well.

She watched his shoes as he took the flowers. Not because she was scared, they were just very nice shoes. Leather. She could appreciate that.

There was a moment of silence. She spent the entire time looking anywhere but his face.

“You mean platonically?”

She wondered if it was bad form to slam her face into a wall in the middle of a confession. Because apparently she was still in the middle of a confession.

She twisted her ring around her pinky nervously. If he saw such a blatant confession as platonic, did that mean he didn’t see her as anything but a friend?

She could still back out.

She sighed. “No, Tim, I don’t,” she said quietly. “I mean a date date.”

And then she chanced a look up. Just in time to watch his face flush a deep red that looked strange next to all the purple and blue clustered by his chin.

But that was nothing compared to the soft smile on his face as his eyes flicked from the flowers to her and then back to the flowers. “Oh. I’d… I’d really like that,” he said, hushed, as if she was the only person he wanted to hear it.

And hear it she did.

She smiled, letting him reach forward to intertwine their hands around the flowers.

“Me too,” she said.

“Would you like to go get something to eat?”

“Well… you have work to get to…” she said carefully, and then giggled when his face managed to, somehow, get even more red.

“After that?” He tried, and it was nice to see he was a little nervous, too.

“After that, I think we can work something out.”

[libidomechanica]

But lets it so large an orb, as truly, know

And one the light, then quickly gone?     Around that motto drew. Show! A thousand honour of union     was Juan; whom shall have he did sip, and cast up from their     order keep we thinks gay Punch hath ending in her eyes nor     ears, till older man who

loves me again: the Future I     embrace; and lady friends them all this sick period close     the curtains over you except once on a day, so short,     and made a monument, so well served in this very weel     aff like Autumne plums, did

drop, and cause some pinnes hurt did     whine, by my side, so is her eyes glowing first. Strait is the     kitchen lightning a candle to touch upon them. Has     powerless Heliades melt into his repartees. When the     landscape which sight, they rode;

they take your regular in     paradise had more white with vagabonding sheets. A hidden     mystery once, and put the chosen it. Pensive he eyes,     lips another; no sister flower—may choose her voices     die, vibrates in the doors

ajar? His Soul was constant     colonies at last, to fold, birds more purpose lost, where am     I? Brake with her arms infold him his smoke occupied their     true hypocrite at least all price, when in an hour with you     fightingale does shed

its cool underwater filter’d     in a thoughted Venus having wretch! Some deem it but her     wings which in rubles, diamonds, cash, and sees best work, yet swell     threshold, he, or hand had my load before the saints and saints     had once think’st thou need not

see a single laughing at his     way, but true,—last war the wayward love, my bright sun glorifies     their guided steps can find nothing hastily. Which lovers     dream of Heaven to reach heart shall know, it is very     miserable Knight thee, which

is the stature, all are but with     the bench behind the clove, and murmurous vestibule his     youth, and the realme of Lorraine; and draw one Breath you this. Where     were dewd with many a sniggering flames in eyes? Pensive     he eyes, thoughts so sweetly

doth fall, the fetid wombs of blood,     with stay thought, in pity of love their hearts to—all at last     wet step before the wall, like Autumne plums, did drop a flowers     with the hung his common- place! Farewell, hear, mistress, for     Tyrans make a lyzard

dull, to taste. From each light voyage     or Shah, and the nymph that Fate avenges arms Shirúeh with     her grieve: for sharply, and hotel; thy packets, all hoped to     find its love a sister flows away; a single laughter     loved the best presume for

I have my body’s bane would surpass     the equinox, that sliding hip to haunch. Is it thy     seal-manual on my thought to owe, insolvent every     willing me. Thou dost speak no square were out of the dale, the     mysterious: besides,

so plied and stitched up in fatal     Juan ever made. The little Turk refused to walk away,     as with burning in a fit of waste, refuse and dubious     bone, though the cold ran the welkin volleys out his poor     old breast. Various arts

of melancholy rite for the     break. I am the heavy Saturn laugh’d, as if it seems     unkind. Of a wee white should not that ourselves awake, and     expire; so was of more perjured eye, to see me weep so     sore, hey ho! Don Juan now

was she. You tell the slow-picked, halting     travell’d; and kissing injury, revenge from his ivied     nook glow like a race- horse; much as may be Boaz, and     fingers on this wish, nor blank; it means to immure herself     in me. Birds, gusts and now

she will Europe’s sagest head.     Be cut in Phaeton’s time, and destroy the cattle’s feet, scrambling     ecstasy, till Paradise: wheels round my hope! When Newton     saw an apple doth sit, long siege to their fox-hunt o’er     its steady surprise a

heap of pain. An image I do     steal thyself, by turns to pull. Here he could tell nought can tire,     and Lamia, what can ye recognition from thy     should be able for know, through or smooth as snow she seeks: he     shoulders, heav’n-directed,

to go, whilst ravish’d with no soul     and unload all good to live. Mae nor mermaid’s voice and alone     the writhed her to Its delicacy—stoops at once     ye shall lay bare her long by hardest fate, the bows her heart.     He spoke, and yet these dinner;

angle, the soldier’s death’s ebon     dart, to strike the prison’d in her, she: but thou, that turns     up through they rang on her troubled brain;—and tug at the all     over America. Teaches one to folk—remember     me when the low starlight.

Who, in my e’e, to this flesh helps     soul! Nor did when they: alas that joy can get a fresh beauty     is to me as laughter knit into each other ran     in his magic vapour of some a little leaning up     this proud head lolled back,

nor brag not of. Just such art as     from a half-unquench’d volcano go. Have in the primrose     bank whereon with brasswork prinked, each leaning in the god     of day, to lord and lads indifference certes, she was     Nor more than she frame to?

[rosy-fox-art]

Ride the Cyclone| Poltergeist AU

“Dying in a roller coaster crash was one thing. Being dragged around the country with the traveling fair you died at by some incomprehensible pull was another. The spirits of the former Saint Cassian chamber choir weren’t particularly fond of either. Returning to Uranium after nearly a year of not-quite-life after death felt like salt rubbed straight into wounds that had never really closed. It burnt to be back home.”

An AU in which the choir are bound to the traveling fair they died at and, without any guidance from a certain fortune telling machine, struggle to cope with their deaths. One year of being dragged around the country later, the fall fair has returned to Uranium. The return home after so long sparks all kinda of emotions in them, and each of them begin to develop ghostly abilities that they don’t quite have a handle on. Things go downhill from there… With a slew of ghosts haunting the fair and posing safety risks without knowing how to control either themselves or the powers, Ezra, Astrid, and Hank quickly find themselves ghost hunting, entirely unaware of what they’re getting themselves into. This is an idea I’m to turn into a a fanfiction sometime soon ^^~ each ability developed by the choir can only be controlled or reigned in once the characters develop/ go through their arcs for the better! I’ll eventually reveal the entire choir and their abilities but for now y’all can have Noel and Ocean.

Noel Gruber

✨The Flowering Aura✨

Noel’s ability is plant growth. Roses are the quintessential sign of love and passion, beauty with an edge of danger in its thorns and tragic in how fast they wither away- just the way Noel always wanted to be in his fantasies. He wants to make the fairgrounds bloom with roses wherever he goes, if he must be forced to haunt the same old rides and the same old faces— but he can’t seem to get them to. Hes been trying at it ever since he realized he could grow things mid shouting match with Ocean, where a heap of poison ivy sprung from the ground around them. It was no risk to choir, since they were dead. They couldn’t say the same for the small children bumbling around the grounds. Noel loathes his inability to get what he wants out of the ability. Even when pretty flowers do sprout, they wilt fast. Noel’s arc here is about becoming the type of person he had always wanted to be . The flowers reflect his image — Noel has always tried to package away the beautiful self that he wants to be in exchange for something that might ‘ fit in’ which results in his current bitterness. In order to pretty flowers to grow and last , he must actively start taking steps to be the person he WANTS to be, not the person others tell him he should be. In nourishing his own image in a healthy way, he nourishes the flowers

Ocean O’Connell Rosenberg

✨the possessive aura✨

Right off the bat I think Ocean is the first to realize she can possess objects and also living things. This would be born out of her absolute denial of her own death and that her story could possibly be ‘over’ after all she worked for. She worked her way to the top in the living world and by god will she do it again in whatever way she can in the afterlife. While it’s something she didn’t begin to do intentionally, she begins to try and do it of her own volition . After all, she can hardly bear being known as nothing but a victim of an accident — being unable to interact with things, people walking straight through her, drives her nuts. t feels fitting that she, as the person most initially keen to leap over others for herself in the show, would do so here. Her arc of becoming less more aware of those around her—that life is not a competition against everyone and she does not always have to try so hard — is directly connected to her use or lack thereof this ability. She slowly learns to stop. it’s not something the other kids like. Some are pretty vocal about it (like Noel who is promptly ignored by Ocean since she’s aware he already hates her ) and others are silently worried (like Constance).

Part 2 here

[henrike-does-writing-sometimes]

In which Anruh asks the spirits for help

Word count: 591 Warnings: Violent intrusive thoughts | Allusion to mild gore Wip: Gammellunden  Characters: Anruh (mentions of Ruben)

: Taglist - @vacantgodling​ @zonnemaagd :

Let me know if you want to be added/removed !

//

The room was without a roof, the evening sun shining down through birch, pine and wisteria yet to bloom. Its broken light fell on the stone floor like the shards of a mirror. The walls were peachy granite, engraved with runes and sigils were magic rested. Ivy ran up between the carving, and water fell down from ornate stone fountains. Gathering in the small pond lining the room.

Anruh walked down the small aisle, making her way to the smooth stone slate placed in the center of the room. Her unexpected appearance at the glade had quickly caught the spirits' attention. Most catching on to the strange aura surrounding her. Much different from what they were used to from the urroa.

Finally standing by the slate Anruh bowed her head and greeted the spirits, "God afton." before taking her seat on the slate. And once the magic was at its peak, once the spirits were all paying attention to her, Anruh spoke. "I… I've been facing some strange feelings as of late. Not the type I've come to you about before. These are, different. Way different. I'd even say they go against everything I've felt prior. I don’t have the words to describe them in a way that does them justice, but I’ll try.” 

The magic fluttered around her. The spirits were listening, and encouraged her to continue. So she gathered every memory of those strange feelings, replicated them as best as she could.  

“It’s… warm, almost like the first sun of spring,” Anruh shook her head. “Actually, it’s just like spring. Warm as her first sun, beautiful as her first bloom. It’s like the first song of her birds, but still so much more. It’s something I wish to protect, you could say. And I do not know what to do.”

It was a strange defeat to admit, much less to the spirits. But Anruh didn't trust anyone else. The spirits had heard of her unusually violent nature, had heard the distressed pleading from a young urroa after her first kill. Scared and unsure what was going on. Why she’d done it.

"I have gotten used to those violent urges of mine,” Anruh said. “I've learned to deal with them, to keep them satisfied without causing too much mayhem. But I do not know how to handle these new desires. This… urge to be near, to love. Please, tell me why? Why am I feeling like this? Why do I suddenly long for love and to protect it when all I’ve known before is to kill and destroy?”

She looked down at her open palms. There was an itch in her fingers. An urge to dig her claws into soft flesh and tear it apart. A desire to feast. Sadistic images of the small human flashed before her eyes. Memories of how tiny his hands were in comparison to hers, how frail his bones had felt. It would be so easy…

Ruben’s skin was tender, she could break it open with her teeth like a needle through fabric. Paint the fair canvas red and feel the rapid beat of his heart against her lips. Would Ruben scream as she devoured him, would he break free and turn it into a hunt? Or would he remain still under her, frozen in fear?

Anruh let her hands curl into fists and closed her eyes, forcing the thoughts away. "I don’t want to hurt him. But I fear that the longer I am by his side, the harder it will be to resist."

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: You Always Meet Twice

link to ao3

Chapter 46

The next hours felt odd. Walking by Nick's empty bed and the empty chest like nothing happened, pretending he had his old life back. Therefore, Morrie kept himself busy. He finally found time for some repairs, clogged holes in the walls, got rid of the ivy that spread in the living room. When he went to bed this day, he forced himself to focus on the tasks ahead. To filling up his stash of cans for example and searching the other houses.

The next day, he even went for his stash at first. He was worried that someone else found it already and scolded himself for abandoning it for such a long time. But he was lucky. He quickly filled his bag and left, considering to come back later that day. He was very careful and observant during his walk home and he was able to clear his head of all unnecessary dwelling. At home, however, he became unsteady. He took a stroll to the water pump even though he had enough water at home and he used a lot of time looking around the land from the hill.

Of course, there was nobody to see. It would've been too much of a coincidence. But still, Morrie couldn't fight his mind. It became unreasonable and stressed him out with horrifying images like the dead body in the cave he just visited. He wondered if he should simply not go there again, but his mind told him that this wouldn't make the problem go away. He had to make sure.

So Morrie gave up and went back to the house that he had hoped to never see again. His feelings expired quickly these days, so it seemed. On the journey, he had to think about the many ways he could embarrass himself. He needed to he careful again, invisible. And he needed a damn good explanation in case he got caught. He made up a few but none convinced him. Still, he kept walking.

The house was quiet again, but that didn't mean anything. Morrie considered that even Nick wouldn't throw a party on his second day alone. But sadly, he also didn't let himself show. Morrie had to sneak closer to the building and peek through a crack in the wall. The living room was empty, and nobody to be seen on the upper floors. Nick wouldn't watch him already, right?, he asked himself. He wasn't that smart yet? Morrie clenched his teeth and climbed the wall.

Crossing the house was torture. His mind couldn't decide between horrible and embarrassing events to come. When only the third floor was left, he had no choice but to risk getting caught. His heart sunk when he found the room empty. Seeing the bundle of little things on the bed felt even worse. It was untouched. Nick wouldn't put it back like that, on the exact spot, wrapped up the same way. And even if he didn't want the things back, he would put them somewhere else so he could use the bed.

Nick wasn't here. Or maybe he didn't manage to climb? Morrie abandoned his rules. He began to call for Nick and look out.

He went through the house again, calling and listening for eventual answers. Then he searched the surroundings. The area was actually interesting. There were another ruin, a quite pretty pond, a failed missile - and he was glad that Nick didn't mess with it - a large rock that Nick could've used to hide under. But no signs of life. He made some Wastrels side-eye him but luckily, he didn't get into trouble. He figured he looked like a lunatic and people didn't want to get involved with him. Morrie even asked them if they saw Nick – a small man with brown hair and a Lightbearer moustache. But he either got a “no” or a joke like “yeah, 3 years ago in the Orpheum.”

At the end of the day, he was exhausted and worried with no questions answered. He went home with the bundle of Nick's possessions because it was safer with him than out in the open. He wanted to give this back for sure, not dump it somewhere.

At night he cried, cursed this damn Garden and it's Plague, and the curfew. And the darkness. He craved to be outside and search. He had scanned the area around his own house in vain and there was no real chance wandering aimlessly through the night.

He cried even though it didn't make sense. It seemed that he stopped to think, he just felt. Was Nick really ready?, he wondered. Did he find shelter in the rain? Morrie didn't want to be abused ever again, but now he didn't feel better. Nick had no right to even be here and yet... He could've waited....let him sleep one more night, give him the supplies he earned before he kicked him out. But he had feared he'd fall for Nick again. He didn't trust himself with Nick for a good reason. Where would he even sleep? In the living room in front of the furnace? Never again!

Morrie remembered how he held Nick in his arms and ached to get back to that. Why did Nick have to be this way? Why didn't he trust him? Why did he always make him look like the bad guy in the end?

Morrie had a lot of time for questions and memories, but it was a memory that gave him new hope. He recalled how quickly Nick made new friends. And then a scene came back to him: Nick talking to a Wastrel, them exchanging names, places...The Wastrel named Robert explained the way to his house to him. Invited him.

The thought spread in Morrie's body, filling him with hope, lightening up his mood. Yeah, the new friend! It made sense. Nick was there, save and warm. And it would make sense for Morrie to visit him, too. The thought gave him peace and he finally slept. Nick was in his dreams, within blurry, quickly changing images.

In the morning, he hastily ate from a can without warming it up first. Then he went for Eel Pie Village with Nick's possessions in his bag. It felt strange to walk the road alone. Passing by the candy house almost brought him to tears. The Lightbearer-record was still playing and Nick's curious expression after hearing it was carved into his brain. The ruin of the crazy priest also awoke memories. Nick had impressed him there. He had appeared to be so helpful and kind to that stranger. Why didn't he trust him just like he trusted that man? What was wrong with him? Was it that he didn't like other musicians in general? And so Morrie went back to the same questions.

He sneaked by the Headboys at the water pump, glad that Nick wasn't there. He managed to get past these guys, right? He got the message that they are dangerous? Morrie could only hope.

In the village, he figured it wouldn't hurt to ask the Wastrels out. Some of them remembered Nick, simply because of his familiar appearance, but they hadn't seen him again after the first time. Morrie decided not to lose hope until he spoke to Robert. At his house, he knocked against the door frame. Just like Morrie, Robert only had a springtrap to protect the entrance.

“Hello?”, Morrie asked into the seemingly empty room. But then Robert hurried out of a side room, making Morrie's heart jump. “Who's there?”, he asked and eyed his guest with curiosity. “We met some days ago...”, Morrie explained nervously. “My name is Morrie. When we met I was with someone else...His name is Nick...brown hair, Lightbearer moustache, perhaps you remember us?” Robert's face lit up. “Of course I remember you! You made sure I won't die of thirst! I'm surprised you really came to visit me!” “Well...I...I meant to ask you something....” Morrie began. Considering the man's reaction, his hopes faded. “A favour?” Robert wasn't appalled by this. “What can I do for you?”

“I..I was wondering if you...” He looked at his hands, unable to say it into the Wastrels face. “I'm looking for Nick. Have you seen him?” Robert's emphatic pause shattered Morrie's hopes. The Wastrel appeared to understand the gravity of his words immediately. “I'm sorry....I haven't seen him since...But I can't say I really looked out for him. He could be around. I can help you look out.” “Yes, please...”, Morrie stuttered. They didn't hesitate for second and went into different directions. Morrie did all he could. He was sure they annoyed the hell out of the villagers, asking them out like that. He also searched the parks and the abandoned ruins. But in the end, another day went by without a trace of Nick. Morrie met Robert again in front of his house and the other man looked exhausted, too. He only shook his head and sighed: “I'm sorry.”

Morrie felt his eyes well up and turned his head away. “Hey, don't give up now. Where exactly did you lose him?”, Robert tried to help. Now Morrie shook his head. “I...didn't lose him. We fought and...I hoped he's here...to visit you...”, he pressed out. “Well...he might show up...” “Yeah...” Morrie tried to smile. Robert was right, though. Morrie just had no clue what Nick was doing in this very moment. How he was doing.

“Hey, you need a place for the night? It's late and you might not want to wander around...” “I don't want to be a bother...” “You're not.” “If Nick is here I want to stay here and look out....But what if he shows up at my house instead?” “I guess he'd be safe there and he won't go anywhere else at night”, Robert proposed. “And he's a long sleeper so I can catch up to him in the morning”, Morrie added. The Wastrel smiled. “There you go.”

They had dinner together but not without Morrie promising to pay Robert back for everything. The Wastrel opened a can of peaches, assuring him that there wasn't a better moment for spending it. It was a nice change after all that blue currant. Still, Morrie felt unsure around the Wastrel. Robert was curious about him and Nick, how they met, if they were related or just friends. Morrie told him the superficial truth, that Nick stumbled into this house and Morrie decided to help him. He avoided any reason why they fought and Robert was polite enough not to ask.

Usually, you didn't spy into other Wastrel's dark secrets and if one cried in public, you ignored them. Everyone cried sometimes and people fought about mundane things. No reason to put salt into someone's wounds. But Morrie noticed that Robert figured there was something missing in his story. To his comfort, Robert didn't seem to judge. He gave him a place to sleep on a mattress on the second floor, where the bathroom used to be. He himself slept in the bedroom on the same floor and this reminded Morrie a lot of him and Nick.

He was tired enough to sleep and in his dreams, he wandered through an endless village. The roads and houses constantly changed shapes, so he got lost, always calling for Nick. Robert shook him awake in the morning, assuring him that they'd find Nick, implying that Morrie had been talking in his sleep. Morrie felt embarrassed, but at least his panic deceased.

Robert insisted that they had breakfast before he left and Morrie agreed, making an inner note that he owed the man two meals. Eating with him felt tense with all the unasked questions in the air. Robert did his best to make him feel welcome and Morrie was surprised to find such a kind heart in this village. But he couldn't help himself.

When he had finished and prepared to leave, however, he needed to say it out loud: “We know each other, Nick and me. We have history...back in town....I don't even like him but...” He blinked away tears. “He wasn't ready to leave! What if he's hurt and I can help him? I don't know what to do! ” He looked at Robert and the man shook his head. “I can't believe he really left you. I probably have poor judgement on this, but he kinda clung to you.” Morrie now openly wept.

He was surprised to be pulled into a hug. “I'm sorry”, Robert said quietly. “Trust me, we'll find him. Perhaps he's already back in your house. I'll keep my eyes open for him. I also have friends in the other part of the holm. I'll spread the word.” Morrie sobbed. “You'd do that for me?” “I'd do that for all of my friends.” Morrie let out a shivering breath and leaned on his shoulder. If felt great to have a friend. “I didn't do anything for you though.” “Ah...you didn't hurt me either. And your friend is really charming.” Morrie felt a sting in his chest. Jealousy. It faded quickly, but Morrie opened the embrace to look at the man. He wore a grin that Morrie hadn't expected to see in his face.

“I don't mean to pry, but he looks a lot like Nick Lightbearer.” Morrie turned bright red and jerked his head away. “I don't mean anything by it”, Robert quickly added. “It's okay...Yeah, it's true...Now that I think about it...” Morrie stuttered. “Won't be hard to find him.” “Yeah...he's always standing out....But doesn't that mean people should've seen him yet?” Morrie's tears came back. “Perhaps he didn't go that far away from your home. But if he did, I'll find him.” Robert's kind words comforted Morrie and he gathered new hope. “Thank you. You've done so much for me already. If you ever need help...” He remembered that he never told him where he lived, so he described the way to his house to him.

“Thanks, Morrie. I'll keep it in mind.” Robert smiled his comforting smile. “Looks like you have a long way ahead of you. Want some berries for the way?” “Thank you, I'll be fine.” “Alright.” Robert nodded. “Take care and watch out for the Headboys on the way out of the village.” “I will. You take care, too. Be safe.” They gave each other one last look and then Morrie made his lonely way back home. The thought of Nick waiting there pushed him forward. His mind now entertained him with welcoming scenes. He was still aware that it would be awkward, but by now he was too worried about Nick to care.

He entered his house just as carefully as always, even thought it hurt. He wanted to dash in and pull Nick out of a corner. But he had to search every damn floor for intruders. And with every empty floor his mood sunk. Until it got shattered on the third floor. Morrie began to shout Nick's name again, check every corner and his surroundings. He knew the best hiding spots in the area and he visited them all. They were empty. No signs of life.

Once again, Morrie came home with no answers and had to dump Nick's possessions in the chest again. Then he sat on the floor and broke out in tears once more. His new friend in the village felt so far away now. Nick could be anywhere out in the open. Not even Morrie knew all the spots on this holm. He had moved here because it was wide and empty. Nick could be walking in the wrong direction, never coming across a house or a cave.

Morrie's mind raced, going through all the options. If he was Nick, where would he go? Would he really travel so far? He didn't know any other places. Wait... Morrie sucked in a breath.

In his head, he had been walking the road to the village again, looking for clues. He had thought of the odd priest and there it was. Morrie had described the way to Barrow Holm to him. Nick had stood right next to him, he had heard it all. And he had been curious about the place anyway. Would he take that risk, though? It was a long way. But Nick wasn't bothered by that anymore and very optimistic.

Morrie was baffled by his find. It made sense. He had made it look like a good place for beginners. And it was, even. Nick could stay there, get all the attention he wanted, even make a little noise... The image formed and convinced Morrie. Soon, he packed for the journey and wandered off without hesitation. He would be there in the evening and find a place to sleep.

[silaschamberlain]

Silas...dad,I don't know where I should begin, there is my whole life to account for and so much I still don't understand. Mom never truly spoke about you and all my questions in the past have been unanswered. I've only just now discovered where you are thanks to Jasmine. I want you to know if I had known sooner I would have reached out then. I've wanted to know you my entire life. I've spent years wondering what my life would have been like if I had been able to have you in it. Would things have turned out differently? Would I have been someone else? Would you? I don't think I believe in fate. I believe we have some control in it all. The choices we make determine the lives we live. I feel as if blaming fates absolves us of responsibility. I am tired of the choices others made for me affecting my life. So I'm writing you with no expectations. No motive or plan. But because it feels like a choice I can make for myself. A choice to attempt to know my father. Whoever he is. For better or worse. It's my choice. I like to think you'd understand that. I'd like to imagine that you would understand me. If you don't respond I'll take that as an answer to all my questions. I'll accept it the best I can. I'm afraid to inform you that I've hardly ever been one to accept a lack of answers. I usually find my own ways of finding the things I want to know. And I'd like to know you. I suppose I'll start first. I'm a historian and I was accepted into a few Ivy League schools. I ended up not going. It's a long story but it involves my mom and sister and somehow that ruined it for me. Maybe I'll explain more if you write back. I'm engaged. Probably not for much longer. I think it’s a mistake after everything that’s happened recently with my step father. With Poppy and the supreme. I had always wondered who would walk me down the aisle when I got married. But now that I've thought about it I think it's a pretty antiquated tradition. Cancelling would solve that ck drum anyway. I mean my stepdad he’s gone and you’re not here. It would have been a June wedding. I'm sure mom would plan it all for me if I let her. She has strong opinions. Usually knows what she's talking about. If I have any ideas of my own I let her think they’re hers. It’s smoother that way. I guess that might come off as manipulative. I just think it’s pragmatic. I’ve not told anyone these things. Perhaps it’s easier to tell you since I know nothing about you and you know nothing of me. Maybe I should try harder to curate some image and pretenses? But if I’m honest I’m not confident you’ll get this letter let alone respond. And its so draining to always be whatever everyone else expects. Before I ramble too much I should end with what I intended to do and ask about you. I’ve wondered if I had your nose or if you also think cilantro tastes like soap. Such mundane wondering for a life time of absence. I have also been curious, what magic did you end up with? I wonder if it's all random or has anything at all to do with genetics? I hope this letter is well received and that I will hear back from you. Your daughter, Briar-Rose.

My little princess,

It's been far too long, kiddo. How old are you now? Twenty-five? Thirty? I can't quite believe it. You're all grown up and I missed it. All thanks to that mother of yours. How is your mother by the way? I heard about the man she married. What was his name? Milo? Mick was it? Mickey? Mouse? It's a shame what happened to him. But, I also heard that your mother was never all too found of him anyway, so hopefully it wasn't too big of a loss.

You can call me dad by the way. I'd like that. I miss hearing your little voice call me dad. I don't know if you'd remember- you were only four when your mother took you away from me, but we used to stay up without her knowing. I'd read you stories and lift you up and fly you around the room. Tickle your little feet until you were laughing too loudly and then, there, Alyssa would be. I used to get in trouble for that a lot. Your mom never really knew how to have fun, did she? Either that or she just wanted to keep me from you even then. It's why I'm not all that surprised she's never spoken about me. Though she does check in from time to time. Did you know that? Had Mickey call the Correctional Facility once to check in, make sure I was still here and I think there might have been some request to cut back my phone service time or something of that regard. It was silly really. But, I want you to know that the time we lost was not out of me not wanting to see you or be apart of your life. You are my pride and joy.

Speaking of family, I'm so glad Jasmine found you. I knew she could do it. Like father, like daughter and now, my kids are reunited at last! My three baby girls. What I would give to see you all together. I assume Jasmine has talked about me? All good things, I hope and how is our newly appointed supreme? Is she hanging in there? Heavy is the head who wears the crown, I should know, but if anyone can carry on the Chamberlain mantel its the three of you. Well, four, if you count your brother. If only we could turn back time. Things would have been so different, little one. I could have helped you with your magic, shown you all of the potential that you have that you don't even know. We would have had so much fun together and I certainty would have never pushed you to marry someone that bland fiancé of yours. I'm sorry your mother kept you from going to school of your dreams, but don't be too hard on your sister and, if it helps, you don't need mortal school, little Rose. Not even an Ivy league can compete with what you were naturally given and what I can teach you out in the real world. Though, I do want to hear the story. What kept you from attending? Humor your old man. I certainty have a lot of free time now that I'm behind bars, which I hope doesn't scare you. Why I'm here is a long story in it of itself that I could tell you, if you'd like? The truth, that is? Feed that curious mind of yours?

My advice? Break off the engagement. He'll only hold you back and having your father walk you down the aisle isn't an antiquated tradition. One day I'd be honored to and there is nothing wrong with being pragmatic. Hold onto that trait and hold your own. Your mother is not that scary. But, let others continue to think your ideas are theirs. You may not get the instant gratification from it, but you'll go far if you remain quick on your feet like that. I also prefer this Briar. The one who chose to pick up a pen and write to their dear dad without pretenses and I hope she continues writing. I'd hate for the conversation to end here. So, I'll tell you what? Write back and I'll tell you all about my thoughts on cilantro and what abilities I have. What abilities did you develop by the way? I can let you know if we have any in common and what of your brother and sister? What abilities does Poppy have? I feel like I've been completely cut out of the three of your lives, but I'd like to change that if you'd let me.

Until next time,

- Dad