Yelle

That's My...Dad?!

Batboys x reader

Word count: 1384

Summary: You already knew of their secret identity…it’s just fun to mess with them when you bring their dad into it.

a/n: This idea has been in me for days, and here it is! Enjoy!

Dick Grayson 

“Superman is a way better superhero than Wonder Woman!” 

Dick wasn’t trying to put Diana under the bus, but he had to make a point. 

“He has super speed, Godly strength, heat vision—oh, did I mention, he could fly.”

Dick listed all these things and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t realize how passionate you were about Superman.”

“Well, duh, who wouldn’t look up to Superman.”

You hummed, “that’s true. But you gotta admit, Batman is so much cooler…and much sexier.”

Dick stopped eating. 

It was like he was kicked in the balls.

“What?”

“Batman is—”

“Don’t worry, sweets, I heard you. But what the hell?”

“What, you know Batman personally?”

“No, no! It’s just—Batman, am I right?”

“No, I don’t if you’re right.” 

“It’s just Batman doesn’t have superpowers—”

“But isn’t it impressive that he could keep up with the league?”

“He looks like a bad communicator—”

“How would you know that—”

“He wears his underwear outside of his suit, I mean, who does that?”

“Superman.”

“Oh.”

Dick looks back at his food and shoves the spoon in his mouth. 

He looks back at you and points the spoon at you, “you gotta admit, though, Nightwing is far better than Batman.”

You rolled your eyes, 

“You mean Batman’s Walmart version? Yeah, I kinda have to pass on that.”

He smashed his face on his food. 

“Dick!” 

He straightened his back and put his palms together in front of his face, he sighed, 

“Nightwing is the younger, hotter, smarter version of Batman! What’s there not to love about him?”

You grabbed a tissue on the table and wiped the food off his face, “I mean, he’s too overly perfect.”

He grabbed your wrist, “Isn’t that a good sign? He could be your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, but it almost seems like he’s untouchable. He’s known as Gotham’s golden child for a reason.”

“I’m telling you, sweets, he’s very much touchable.” 

You laughed at this. Of course he would say that about himself. You shook your head.

“So is Batman! And he has emotional baggage, plus points for character development.”

“Trust me, honey, he will not be getting better anytime soon.”

You both stared at each other, and started laughing. 

“Okay, okay. You might have a point there.”

He nodded and went back to eating. 

“I still think he’s hotter than Nightwing, though—”

Motherfu—

Jason Todd

He turned on the television and turned the channel to the news. He was in the kitchen, inches away from the living room where you stayed. You were lounging around with a book in your hands. 

He heard vaguely, “Breaking news: Batman has thrown the Joker in jail the sixth time this week. Hopefully, it will not turn into the seventh time—”

He tunes the news out, opting to focus on breakfast. 

“Wow. Batman is hot!”

He stopped stirring the bowl and set it down as calmly (it wasn’t calm) as possible. 

You looked back.

“Dear, are you alright—”

“Batman is hot?” 

“I mean, yeah—”

“Batman is hot?” 

“You repeating it just makes it truer.”

“I—ugh.”

Jason puts a palm in his face. He then drops his hand and reaches for the whisk and the bowl. He started calmly stirring again. 

“Batman is not hot.”

“I mean, it’s in terms of preference—”

“Batman is not hot.”

“Do you just repeat what you say?”

He got a pan under the sink and started heating it by the stove. 

“Darling, he doesn’t kill the criminals. And then they break out and give havoc back in Gotham. If you ask me, he’s just as guilty as the criminals he fights.”

“That’s true, if he didn’t stick to his morals, he would have been the perfect vigilante.”

He nodded and put his hand over the pan. Once it’s hot enough, he started pouring the pancake batter on the pan. 

“Doesn’t mean he’s hot, though.”

He grunted and flipped the pancake using a spatula. 

“Red Hood is way hotter.” 

You blinked. Because—

“Who?”

Jason whipped his head towards you, “what do you mean, ‘who?’ uh, the best vigilante of all time!”

“...who?” 

“The guy with the cool motorcycle? His main weapon is guns? The one with the red mask—” 

“Oh! The creepy lookin’ one? Isn’t he like, a villain, though?” 

You think you smelled burning in the kitchen. 

Tim Drake

You placed the coffee mug down near his computer. 

“Here you go, you coffee freak.”

“Thanks.” 

“What are you doing now?”

“Collecting data for the new launch of the new technology in the Wayne Enterprises.”

You settled down on the couch beside his desk.

“Oh, poor me, I should have never been involved with a CEO.” 

You put one of the back of your hands on your forehead and shake your head slightly. 

“Yes, yes. Poor you, you have money.”

You barked out a laugh and leaned towards him.

“Hey.”

“What.”

“Hey.”

“What.”

You put a palm to your chin. Resting as your head on it while you watch your lover. 

“Don’t you ever wonder what kind of gadgets Batman has?”

He looked at you. Squinted. 

“Doesn’t he have…weapons?”

“I mean, obviously he does. But maybe he has other kind of weapons that could—”

He raised his hand and shoved it a little forward. 

“Nope. I don’t wanna hear it.” 

You pouted, “C’mon, it’s a hot thought!”

“He has at least 10,000 batarangs, 12,000 gas pellets, at least 200 grappling hooks, and other suits like Hellbat, Justice Buster, and Thrasher.”

You squinted, “Did you just hack the Bat?”

He shrugged, “You can’t really hack if you have access.” 

“Well, you wouldn’t know he would be hiding that kind of stuff in whatever place he hides his gadgets. He’d probably hide them where nowhere else could find it. You know, because it’s a secret.”

Tim thought for a moment, your logic does make sense. I mean, after learning the way he talks to Catwoman in an unwanted call. It makes perfect sense. 

“That’s…possible. You’d best be fit with Red Robin anyway.”

You smiled at this, “Red Robin, huh?” 

He does not like your tone.

“Sounds like Red Robin doesn’t know when to move on being a Robin.”

He blinked. And did a double take.

“What a freaky little shit.”

What. 

“He is the most intelligent Robin that Batman has ever had! He is the Brains of the operation for a reason—”

“Gives him more of a reason to stick to the title as ‘Robin’, no?”

God, he needs another coffee.

Damian Wayne

You and Damian are walking around Gotham finding art supplies for your date late that day. Until you stop by a toy shop and look out the window.

“What is it, beloved?” 

“Look,” you pointed at the Batman plushie, “Isn’t he cute?” 

He looks at the Robin beside it, “I see.” 

You both walked forward and you continued to speak, “Sometimes I forget Batman is actually alive, you know? He’s plastered like some celebrity.”

He nodded, “I agree. Civilians should stop idolizing Batman and see him for what he truly is: a man who beats up criminals because he sold his soul to the devil.”

You whistled, “a little dark, don’t you think?”

“That is how Batman is to be perceived.” 

“But you have to admit, though, he is quite sexy.”

Damian’s mind stopped for a second. And then two. 

“You have sexual feelings for Batman?”

“Not as much I do for you,”

Damian turns pink at this, “But he does have a nice body.” 

Damian muttered, “that could be said about Robin.” 

You widened your eyes, “Dami!”

“What is it, beloved?”

“Did you just imply that I should look at Robin in a sexual way?”

“Well, why couldn’t you—”

“Dami! He’s a 12 year old boy.” 

He blinked. 

He forgot about that.

“A literal child!” 

“Beloved, I didn’t mean it in that way—Robin is just adorable that’s all—”

“So you do want me to be a pedophile! Is that how low you thought of me? Thinking of a child that way.” 

You just shook your head and laughed.

“So, which Robin were you referring to? Nightwing? Red Hood? Red Robin?” 

“I wasn’t referring to any of them—”

“So you did think I would be a pedophile!” 

Oh, if only you knew where Robin’s at right now. 

The Charming and the Charmed

Peter Pevensie x immortal!reader

Word count: 4436

Summary: He left. He left, and you couldn’t accept it. How dare he leave and come back. You should have never met him.

a/n: Huhu, thank you for requesting! I did take some creative liberties. Like I didn't want reader to die because it's so gut-wrenching knowing your love was on the other side loving you. and so much, still, I hoped you enjoy!

You died.

At least, that was what Peter thought. 

It’s mathematically impossible that you’re alive—and Peter hates Math. 

But looking at the woman he knew. The woman he once ruled alongside. The woman he once loved.

You’ve aged. Not as old as he once left at the ripe age of 28. No, you looked—

“Who is this boy?”

He irked at this. Boy? He is the High King of Narnia. He ruled the lands when he was 16 years old. He has loved you before then.

Did he even notice you were pointing an arrow at him? 

Have you aged or was he rejuvenated?

He scoffed at this, “I have you know, I’m still the High King.” His voice cracked.

Ah, puberty, oh, how he did not miss it.

You raised your eyebrows. Surprised didn’t even measure how much you’re feeling. You lowered your bow. 

“Pevensie?”

Ah.

You were as encapsulating as you ever were.

He was about to speak when another beat him to it,

“Captain, I do apologize for not informing you earlier—I blew on a horn and it summoned the long-lost Kings and Queens.”

You turned towards Prince Caspian and smiled. You put a hand on his shoulder and patted, Peter, bless his soul, tries so hard not to look, “It’s alright, I do have to wonder, though,” 

“Will they be able to help us with how they are?”

With how they are? What were you implying—

And then it dawned on Peter. You didn’t trust them because they were children.

He walked closer to you, even at his current age, he was taller than you, “You can’t be serious. I’ll have you remember that we fought for Narnia just a year ago—“

You raised your eyebrows at this.

He looked back at his siblings then at you, “what I meant, 1300 years ago! We were younger back then. We fought a war. Won it. And ruled—“

“With the help of Aslan.”

“Aslan trusted us!”

“And where is he now?”

Peter jerked his head back. That’s what he was worried about. Was it really a coincidence they came back or was Aslan asking of them?

“Lucy…”

He looked at his youngest sibling. 

“Lucy, you’ve seen Aslan, haven’t you?”

Lucy looked surprised and furrowed her eyebrows, “but you didn’t believe me…”

You barked out a laugh, “you didn’t even believe in Aslan, how would he believe in you?”

Peter, outraged, grabbed you by the wrist.

Oh, what familiarity.

He’d always step into your personal space if you’re too stubborn to hear him out. He was about to give a piece of his mind—

He heard a sigh beside him.

Edmund removed Peter’s hand off of yours, “Pete’s right. We have fought this kind of war when we were younger.”

Edmund looked at you, and you stared down at him, "Yes, you’re right. We haven’t seen Aslan—yet. But we ended up here, didn’t we? He must have led us here.”

You scoffed, “Uncertainty won’t get you anywhere here.”

Edmund's mind started to turn, “well, if not for Aslan, we’re still here. More man power would still lead to a high probability of victory, wouldn’t it?”

You keep staring at Edmund, longer than necessary until your shoulders slump.

“Alright.”

Then you slowly walk off and leave the small room of Aslan’s How.

Susan and Peter were patrolling the night. It’s the least they can do to gain back the trust of the Narnians—particularly a certain someone.

Susan sighed, “Well, this isn’t how I expected to be back. Or be back at all.”

Peter looked at Susan, then back at the sky.

“Narnia changed. So much. A year, and everything turns into shambles…We shouldn’t have left.”

Susan shook her head at what Peter said.

“You didn’t know you would have left.”

“We choose to leave. I choose to leave. We could have looked back.”

Susan shuts her eyes and leaned back, “Aslan would have not liked it if we looked back.”

Peter puffed out his cheeks, “it’s just—it’s not—“

Susan waited, as gentle as she is.

“It must have been lonely.”

Susan thought: lonely where? Lonely who?

And Susan realized who he was talking about, “who would have realized she would live for 1300 years?”

“Even if we or she realized it, it doesn’t matter. Because it happened.”

“I don’t even know what happened to her. I don’t know how long she ruled; how long she hid; how long she—”

Peter fisted his hands. 

“She…hates me.”

“Are you alright?”

Encapsulating. That is what Peter Pevensie thought when he first laid eyes on you.

And he didn’t even realize that he ran into a tree.

“Peter!”

Peter looks back at his siblings running to get to his side.

Susan was inspecting Peter if he had any injuries, Lucy—poor soul, she could barely keep up with her tiny legs. And Edmund, who happened to be by Peter’s side, looked at you.

“Who are you?”

Peter smacked his shoulder.

“Ow!”

“Don’t be rude, Ed!”

“Peter! What is wrong with you?”

Susan finally reached them.

“I was trying to teach Ed here some manners—“

“You smacked me in front of a stranger, I don’t think that’s very polite—“

“I’ll show you what being polite—“

You giggled. And oh, did you cast a spell on Peter the very moment you met?

“Ah! You’re here!”

You ran up to the older man, and hugged (squeezed) the life out of him.

“Careful now, dear,”

You slowly let go of your dear old pops.

“Careful now, Pops, I’m starting to think you don’t miss when I do that.”

His eyes shined at this, “couldn’t have missed it for anything else.”

“Pops? You have a granddaughter?” Edmund raised his eyebrows. 

“Ah, that’s right,” the professor looked up from your shoulder and looked at the Pevensies.

“This is my favorite grandchild—“

“I’m your only grandchild—“

“To have ever existed. Please treat her with love and respect, as I’ve shown you.” He eyes Edmund specifically. 

Edmund looked away.

Lucy and Susan were staring at the professor like this was sort of riddle they already have the answer to.

But Peter?

All he could see was you.

Peter never got to experience what having a crush felt like. He was, after all, in the prime of adolescent years. But that got cut short with the war. Curse bloody wars for ruining a lover boy’s dream.

Now this. This could have been the love he read about in the books of the library.

Edmund looked at Peter, seemingly to get help getting away from the Professor, but what he saw was much more amusing.

He leaned in close, “oooh, Peter has a crush! When are you gonna propose?”

Peter shoved Edmund to the ground.

“Peter!”

“Ed! Are you alright?”

You were the first to move. you lent a hand out for him to grab on, and he took it. Looking at Peter with a grin on his face.

He stuck his tongue out. 

You giggled at the action.

If Edmund didn’t already taste wrath, he would certainly see it.

Peter smiled at the memory.

And now, he’s looking at you and Prince Caspian discussing a strategy to dethrone the current Telmarine King. 

Ugh. Prince Caspian. 

Not only is he leading the Narnians (not even from his own land), but he’s gotten your attention. 

The only man that has ever grabbed your attention was him.

You used to laugh at his unfunny jokes. Get angry when he has done something relatively stupid (which is to get your attention). And look at him, like the weight of the crown didn’t matter because he matters to you.

Now, you’re doing that with someone younger than he was.

Well, he and Prince Caspian were the same age, but still. He was 1300 years old. 

Why did you treat Prince Caspian differently when they were basically the same age? 

Why did you trust him more when he knew you for far too long?

You then looked at his direction. Your eyes stayed long but turned cold quickly. Then you bowed your head to Prince Caspian and left the vicinity. 

The banquet was far too much. After the Pevensies were crowned as Kings and Queens, the Narnians hosted a beautiful dinner. It was just, you had a lot on your mind. 

You went out on the balcony. Not to get fresh air, in Narnia, there’s always fresh air, but to think. You leaned against the cement and stared out in the lush forest. 

“Well, if it isn’t the Brilliant, what are you doing out here?”

You turned your head and looked at the boy before you. 

“Why, hello there, the Magnificent. Shouldn’t you be charming to your people?” 

He laughed and walked towards you, “I can’t be charming if one of them left the banquet to go here.”

You tilted your head, “hm, then you should go work on that then.”

He finally reached you. Although, the proximity was too close but far at the same time. You don’t dare move to close the distance. 

“Are you worried? That Aslan has knighted you as the Protector of Narnia?”

“Are you? Being the High King of Narnia is no easy job.”

Peter chuckled at this, “that’s why Aslan crowned all my siblings as royalty. So the burden isn’t mine alone.” 

He reached out but stopped himself. His hand was just floating in the air. 

You giggled at the action, “What were you gonna do?”

“Something I’ve been trying to stop myself from doing.”

You hummed, “I can see that.”

You face Peter and let one hand lay on his chest, close to his heart. Beating. One second. And then another. 

“My, has the High King been charmed?”

Peter puffs his cheek and leans forward, he whispers, “I can’t help but notice that you’re falling for me.”

You grinned, and whispered back, “you’ve been falling for me.”

“Alright, alright. Just, don’t tell my siblings.”

“I think they’ve known it before you did.”

“Then don’t confirm it.”

You don’t know who leans in, but both of you felt content afterwards.

“Peter likes older women.”

“Now is not the time to joke, Ed.”

“But it’s true! You do believe me, don’t you, Lu?”

“It does make sense—”

“You two!”

Edmund and Lucy snickered as Susan rolled her eyes. Peter stood there just daydreaming of what had happened. 

Peter knew what Edmund was doing. He was trying to lighten up the mood after the raid that happened a few days ago—more specifically, what happened between Peter and Prince Caspian. 

“Think about it,” Edmund pointed at Peter, “It looks like he fell harder when she got older.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows, but Susan spoke for him, “they’re literally the same age!”

Lucy chimed in, “That was a year ago. Now, she’s way older than him! You need to catch up, Pete—”

“You two barely have experience with love!”

“And you do with Prince Caspian? Oh please—”

“I do not—”

Peter goes back into his mind and replays what Lucy said, Now, she’s way older than you! You need to catch up, Pete.

He needs to find you. 

You barely left Aslan’s How. Which is so unlike you because you’ve always tended to be the first one to leave. 

Maybe a change of pace?

You feel eyes staring at you, “come to apologize to Prince Caspian? He’s out right now.”

He scoffed at this and muttered, “if anything, he should be apologizing to me.”

You sighed and finally looked back at him, “then why are you here?”

He made a step towards you, “I came here to talk. To you.”

“About?”

“Do I need a conversation topic to talk to you?”

“Well, that’s how conversations work.”

He now stood in front of you. He sees your face much more clearly. You were by no means an old woman. You still look like an adult, but now with a few smile lines. Little gray hairs peaking out of your healthy hair. And that was the thing, you looked older than Peter. And he didn’t like that at all. He thought—

You’d see him just as old too. 

Now it will be a long time till you see that.

“How long?”

“How long, what?”

“How long have you ruled?”

It felt like you stopped breathing. You fisted your hands, 

“I…didn’t rule.”

“Captain!”

You were in the training grounds, teaching some of the new recruits about swordsmanship. Then you turned to the sound of the voice.

“Yes?”

“The Kings and Queens are missing!”

You dropped your sword, “What? Weren’t they on a horse ride a few hours ago?”

“Yes, but they haven’t come back. No one saw them in the borders of Cair Paravel.”

You turned to the new, “Alter the army, search every inch of Narnia. If they’re in danger, they would certainly leave clues.”

They saluted and ran off. 

It’s been days. No sign of the Kings and Queens. 

Cair Paravel was in the dark of their rulers being missing. Only the ones in the castle knew what actually was going on. 

Someone barges in the library and you look up, “Mr. Tumnus?”

“Hello, sweetie, how are you feeling?” someone spoke from below and you looked down. 

“Mrs. Beaver, what are you doing here?”

“We’re worried too, kid,” Mr. Beaver replied.

“And we have a proposition,” Mr. Tumnus chimed in. 

“What is it?”

They all looked at each other before speaking, “You have to go find for them—”

“We’re already doing that.”

“No, alone. Not in Narnia, but the places outside of it.”

You stopped at this, and looked towards them. 

“And leave Narnia even more defenseless? Not a chance.”

“Kid, there’s no other option—”

“And this is the best option? Leaving the crown to go find people who we don’t even know if they’re alive?” You bit your tongue. 

“Dear,” Mrs. Beaver started, “we are not asking as Narnians, but as your friends. We know you could find them, however long it takes. But you will find them. We trust you and they trust you to do so.”

You shut your eyes. But nodded. 

“Maybe you’re right. I wouldn’t have been fit to rule anyway.”

You should have never listened to them. 

After your leave, Narnia was attacked. And you couldn’t get back in time because you were on the other side of the world. 

After the news broke, you got to Narnia as fast as you could, but it was too late. Everything. Everything was in shambles. 

You gathered survivors and led them to somewhere that was safe. 

The next day, when everything was already torn, you went back. 

It was an awful sight. Corpses are treated as mountains. The once beautiful buildings turned into awful bricks. 

You stopped at the center. The throne that was once the highlight of Narnia. 

You stared at the four broken seats. 

You unleashed your sword, and screamed, cutting each one of them. Especially the one in the center. That seems to be the one least broken.

You crumpled down on the ground. Gasping for air. Your body aches—not because you stayed up all night, but the stress that has never left your body when they left.

How dare they—

Traitors.

Every single one of them.

You told Peter this and it was silent for a long moment. 

“You left Narnia? To adventure all over the world?”

“I did not adventure—”

“Well, it was quite idiotic to leave Narnia all alone—”

“I’ve told you why I had to go!”

“Then why did you listen to them?! You knew the risk, yet, yet you still went!”

He shouted this as if he wanted the whole world to hear.

“You didn’t give any possible certainty that it would have been something reasonable!”

You pointed at his chest and walked forward, he stepped back, “What could I have thought? ‘Maybe the Pevensies needed a break and didn’t say anything?’ ‘Maybe they had an alliance and had to fight an impossible battle?’ Maybe, maybe, maybe! I didn’t know where in the bloody hell you were!”

“I was back in London!”

“And I was supposed to know that?! I’m not a mind reader, Pevensie.”

You said his name as if you were scolding a child. 

“Could have fooled me, you’ve lived long enough to know who I am. And you’re still living.”

You both heard a gasp and people shushing, but you both ignored it. 

“You’ve left our people and look what happened to Narnia! It was unreasonable to think that we would have been anywhere else—”

“Oh, I get it now. You’re blaming me. For all this.”

He stopped stepping back. You continued. 

“Ever since you came here, I wonder why you needed to take control. Yes, you were King, but do you really think people trusted you? That you could take back what’s yours? No one here trusts you. They’d rather trust Prince Caspian over you, because they didn’t screw up to prove to them you were better.”

That struck Peter. He was never jealous of Prince Caspian, but what he has done. And Peter has done nothing.

Peter grabbed your wrist harshly.

“I could say the same thing for you, you’re a coward. You only left because you weren’t confident to rule. You’re selfish to think you could find people who could rule when you couldn’t. That’s why you keep an eye on Prince Caspian, because he reminds you of me!”

You both breathe hard. 

“Leave.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Leave.”

And he left. Again. As simple as that. 

He met his siblings and Prince Caspian behind the room. Lucy was crying and the other three looked down. 

He walked past them. 

You woke up in the comfortable bed that you so loved, and cuddled by the comfortable man you so adored.

You groaned as you tried to get out of his hold. 

You were free for just a second.

Till he pulls you back down and smashes his head on your shoulder.

You sighed, “Dear,”

He groaned and tightened his grip on your waist.

“Get off me.”

He chuckled at that and opened one of his eyes, he pretended to think, “hm, no.”

“You’re keeping me as a hostage?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Your cheeks dusted pink, and put your palm to his face, pushing him away, “Ugh, you pervert.”

“Only for you, darling.”

“Oh, get ready, stop with your dilly dally.”

He blinked and got up, changing into his royal attire. You roll and lay on your stomach, enjoying the view. 

“You’re going out with your siblings tomorrow, right?”

“Mhm,” he stretched and popped a bone. 

“What will you be doing?”

“Horse riding—”

“You mean ‘horse racing.’”

“Oh, it won’t come to that.”

“It always does, when it comes to you.” You glare at him.

He hummed and looked back at you, “Are you sure you’re not coming? What is it that you’re doing again?”

“Teaching the new recruits rules and swordsmanship.” You pouted, dreading tomorrow. 

“Aw, my darling is so hard working.”He mocked.

“Don’t patronize me.”

“Are you sure you’re not coming? I feel like tomorrow will be an interesting day.”

You squinted, “Are you finally proposing?”

“Would it kill you to be surprised?”

“Not unless you actually do it.”

He smiled, “Then be there tomorrow.”

You stand at the center of Aslan’s How. Your conversation with Peter replaying over and over again. 

He doesn’t understand, of course he doesn’t.

He was a child again.

When you first laid eyes on him after all these years, it hurt you more than anything. You got to see Peter when he was just the same age as you. 

And now, he looks about half your age. Not even considering you’re 1300 years old. 

You wanted to grow together, but now, you don’t see it possible. 

You haven’t seen his 1 year of growth. 

He hasn’t seen 1300 years scourging for salvation.  

He is the Peter you loved; hot-headed, action-oriented, selfless, charming boy.

But he wasn’t the man you were with. 

And you couldn’t give back 1300 years of wandering around the world to have your Peter back. 

Someone stood beside you. And held your hand, you looked down,

“It isn’t your fault.”

Lucy looked at the Lion statute.

“You came back, and helped the last remaining Narnians. You would have always done that.”

You closed your eyes. 

“It’s not Peter’s fault either.”

You wanted to speak. That boy has done nothing but complain—

“After we came back to London. He just stares at the wardrobe thinking he’s going back here.”

You blinked at that. Lucy continues, 

“Whenever he sees a closet, he would just sit in it. Edmund and Susan thought he went insane—which he did.”

“But he just wanted to get back here. To you.”

You started shaking after this. You didn’t cry—you haven’t cried for so long. You put your palm over your mouth.

You just tightened your hold on Lucy’s hand.

“I hope tomorrow goes well.”

The fight had been brutal. But it is over now. 

You stood inside Aslan’s How and wandered around it. Until you bumped into someone.

“Prince Caspian!”

He raised his eyebrows, “are you looking for someone?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Well, there’s one person who needs you at the moment.”

He told you the directions to a room and you followed. 

You reached a door and pushed it open.

You find Peter trying to bandage his arm. The arm that he almost broke when he fought Miraz. 

“Why don’t you ask for Lucy’s Cardinal?”

He looked startled for a moment, and looked back to you, “I wouldn’t want to intrude—many Narnians are far more injured than me.”

You sighed, “stubborn as always,” you walked towards him.

“Is there something—”

“Give me the bandage. You’re not very good at taking care of yourself.”

He was about to chuckle when he stopped himself. He handed you the bandage.

You started to wrap the bandage gently on his shoulder. 

This is what usually happened back then. Although you were the knight, Peter got more injured and you always took care of him. Always berating him for not asking for Lucy’s help. 

But when this usually happened, the both of you were quiet.

Because you hate seeing him injured, and he hates that you see him injured. 

Impulsive as ever—

“I didn’t want to leave.”

You stopped and continued your movement, he continues talking,

“I hoped that everyday I’d go back here. Hope that everything doesn't change. Hope that you don't change.”

You tied the bandage and retreated your hands, he grabs both of your wrist,

“But none of those things end up happening.”

“You didn’t know—”

“And I should have been more convincing for you to come with me that day.”

You breathed out, “You wouldn’t have known I’d come with you back to London. Sometimes Aslan is unpredictable as ever.” You laughed quietly to yourself. 

“True, but you would have known where I was.”

In rare moments, you find yourself talking to the Peter you once had. The wise and cheeky man. But you remember he wasn’t.

It was quiet again. But it isn’t so bad anymore. It was the quiet you grew to love when you were with Peter. 

The tree opened up a portal to another world. 

“How do we know he is not leading us to our deaths?!”

Reepicheep looked at Aslan, “Sire, if my example can be of any service, I will take eleven mice though with no delay.”

Peter steps forward, “We'll go.”

Edmund tilted his head, “We will?”

“Come on. Our time’s up.”

Peter walks over to Caspian and offers his sword.

“After all, we’re not really needed here anymore.”

But you need him.

Caspian takes the sword.

“I will look after it until your return.”

Susan looks at him, “I’m afraid that’s just it…We’re not coming back.”

Lucy looks surprised, “We’re not?”

Peter chimed in, not before he looked at you, “You two are.”

You look down and you don’t listen in the conversation. 

He’s no longer coming back. For good this time.

At least, now you know where he’ll be.

“I’m glad I came back.”

“I wish we had more time together.”

“It would never have worked anyway.”

“Why not?”

I am 1300 years older than you. 

Susan walks away, and then turns back. She kisses Caspian, and then they embrace. 

“I’m sure when I’m older I’ll understand.”

“I’m older and don’t think I want to understand.”

You chuckled at the interaction, “Oh, young love.”

“You’ve been in love once before.”

You looked at Aslan and he smiled. You nodded, “once.” 

You look at Peter and wave. See you later. At least, that’s what you hoped that came across.

He just looked at you. 

He’d want to grab you and you’d all go back to London. He would see your youth and you’d look the same age again. Maybe you’d be in love in London. Maybe you’d finally get married there. 

But as his siblings started walking towards the tree, the possibility started to get less probable.

You’d never see him again.

And he’ll never see you.

But at least he knows you're alive.

And at least you know where he is. 

And as Lucy finally disappears.

You know you wouldn’t see him again.

The night in Cair Paravel is peaceful.

After the Pevensies left, and Prince Caspian took over the crown, nothing has looked peaceful since. 

But you found yourself at the center of the throne.

Four new chairs. 

They were rebuilt after you destroyed them.

The middle one, the largest and most formidable looks hunted. 

You started inspecting it, going around in circles. Then you stopped in front of it and touched the armrest. 

It was perfect.

It would have fit him if he were still High King. 

You fell to your knees and your body shook. You didn’t cry—you couldn’t cry for someone that wasn’t yours.

It was a faith worse than death. Knowing that you were both alive but could never see each other. 

If only you’d be in the same timeline. 

Maybe living for thousands of years would be bearable.

You felt a hand touch your shoulder, and you immediately hugged him.

“I know how you feel…I know I wouldn’t be able to see her ever again. And you wouldn’t see him either.”

You looked at Prince Caspian and he looked down at you. 

Two people, who would be alive for quite some time, have to think about people who’d never come back.

“We will be able to see them,” you started.

“What do you mean?”

“We will be able to see them…if we choose to remember.”

In Due Time…He’ll Always Realize

Dick Grayson x reader x Platonic!Tim Drake

Word count: 1164

Summary: Dick Grayson, chivalrous and charming as always. But if that kindness leads to annoyance? Especially to a coffee-addict, workaholic that comes in the form of his genius brother. Being Dick’s girlfriend may have some downsides after all.

a/n: Inspired from the comic, Batman: Wayne Family Adventures. Specifically, Big Brother 1 & Big Brother 2. One of my favorite chapters (I just started). So, Enjoy!

Middle Art: Batman: Wayne Family Adventures.

Border: @kodaswrld

Timmy Drake.

Well, Tim Drake, but your boyfriend likes calling him “Timmy.”

He saw you in the park walking around. But you know better. You know the detective family doesn’t just “coincidentally” see people. They seek them out. 

And who did it better than the coffee-addict, encyclopedia vigilante? 

You walked towards him, put your finger on your chin, inspecting him, “I know that face.”

He scoffed lightly, “Oh, yeah? What does my face say?”

“It’s the ‘your-boyfriend-did-something-again-and-I’m-talking-to-you-to-get-revenge’ look.”

He scratched the back of his neck, “Unfortunately, the accuracy of your deduction is correct.” 

You smiled at that, “Walk with me?”

You two started walking aimlessly around the park. He didn’t speak, and you didn’t initiate. It was pure silence—in a good way. 

He sighed. 

“Does he…leave you?”

You thought for a moment.

You closed your eyes, 

“At night? He’s Nightwing, it’s probably a tradition to see him leave. As my boyfriend? He can’t. Or more like I can’t. He locks both of us in a closet, so I can fall in love with him all over again.”

Timmy gagged at this and you giggled. 

His eyes look down at the ground, it’s as if it is the most interesting on the planet. 

“How about as Dick Grayson?”

Your head snapped towards him. 

Before you replied, you found a bench. He sat, but you still kept standing. 

You sighed. 

“Dick Grayson, huh?” 

Timmy looks at you as you speak. 

“Sometimes he’s…” you pout. 

“A TOTAL ASSHOLE.”

You stomped your foot against the pavement. People were staring at you, and Timmy had to silently apologize to them. 

You groaned, “He always leaves! Date night, canceled. Special event, cancelled. WHY? ‘I’m so sorry, dear, Bruce told me to go shopping.’ ‘I have to go, Jason needs me to sharpen his knives.’ ‘Damian is throwing a fit.’ And so on. It’s not even an emergency, it's just someone needs him and he’ll help.”

Timmy quickly nodded and muttered, “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

You groaned even harder. And raised both your arms, 

“I DON’T EVEN THINK WE HAD A PROPER DATE NIGHT IN AGES.”

Universe, please hear your prayers. 

Timmy blinked slowly, and you copied his reaction. You turned the shade of his Red Robin costume, if that was even possible. 

You coughed and looked away. 

You looked back at him now, “Enough about me, what did he do this time?”

His shoulders slumped, “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid if you sought out the girlfriend.”

He shook his head, “No, I mean it. Dick and I had plans to go to the arcade. And Damian had asked him if he could take him to the Museum for a school project. And well, I’m here.” 

You nodded, inhaled, and finally sat down on the bench. 

“I give it a day.”

“What?”

“I give it a day till he realizes his mistake. Probably realized it on his own. Probably with the help of Jason. But he will realize it.”

You opened your left eye to look at Timmy. 

“Because you're his little brother.” 

That knocked the wind out of Tim’s lungs. 

He leaned back even deeper on the bench. 

“Then by that logic, you’re his girlfriend.”

You giggled at that. Rational as always.

“Don’t get me wrong, I really do hate it when he does that,”

You looked at the sunset. The bright orange of the day turns into a serene shade of blue. Oh, how you love blue. 

“And I know he would change for me if I told him. But that's one of the reasons I love him, you know? An impulsive idiot who will do anything for the people he loves.” 

Tim looks up as well. Enjoying the view, even if it was for a short while.

“You're his genius little brother. And he needs to use his brain cells to get to you.”

He smiled at this. Of course his brother’s girlfriend knows the right things at the right time,

“Your boyfriend is such an asshole.”

“Unless there’s a mass breakout at Arkham or something. We’ll probably need to help with that. But otherwise, no interruptions.”

“Sounds perfect to me.”

Tim starts for a moment and started walking again, “Oh, that reminds me,”

Dick looks at Tim, “Hm?”

“Have you had a proper date with your girlfriend?”

“And where did you hear that from?”

“Based on statistics and how frequent you fought with Condiment King—”

“She told you, didn’t she?”

“A correct deduction.”

Dick pouted. Like a kicked chihuahua. 

Timmy put both his hands behind his neck, “The only right solution: Go and have dinner with her. She got tired of you always leaving her.”

He added shortly, “After we go to the arcade, of course.”

Dick laughed, “I would do so much more than that, Timmy! I need to set-up a picnic, make sure the Moon shines so bright I see all the emotion in her eyes. Oh! And if someone gets in the way, I would—”

Yep, he would probably lock himself and his girlfriend in a closet for her to fall in love with him again. 

You came back home to your and Dick’s shared apartment. 

All you wanna do is sleep till you can no longer wake up. 

Well, until your prince charming wakes you up with a true love’s kiss. 

Yeah, right. There’s a higher possibility that Batman would fall in love with the Joker than your boyfriend coming home early. 

Did you leave the kitchen lights on before you left?

Damnit, the electrical bill—

You stopped in your tracks, seeing a familiar silhouette in the kitchen,

“Dick?”

He stops his stirring and looks back at you, “Hello, sweetheart.” 

You crossed the kitchen, inspecting what he had made. 

“You know how to cook?”

“Is it that hard to believe?”

“Well, you suck at everything else.”

“But you know what you can suck—”

“Dick.”

“Read my mind, sweetheart.”

You pushed him by the shoulder and sat on the counter. You stared at him for a long moment. He continues to stir the food he was preparing.

“Timmy?”

“Yep.”

“And you believe him?”

“He goes to you when he has problems.”

“He goes to me when you become a problem.” 

“Same thing.”

He stopped stirring and put his hand on your thigh. He leans in, your foreheads touching. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I should have known—”

“But I didn’t say anything.”

“Still doesn’t mean it’s okay.”

“I’m okay with it.”

Dick cradled your cheek with his unattended hand. You leaned into it. You always do. 

Two people that are engrossed with one another don’t define the feelings they have through dates, proximity, gifts, or even, words. Sometimes, the person can leave for long periods of time. You don’t know whether they’re hurt, cheated, or become unrecognizable. But however long a person leaves or stays is not the worth of their love. It’s the depths that they are willing to make time for one another are what people in love really need. 

The Cure to Boredom

Firelord Zuko x reader

Word count: 2447

Summary: Being Firelord had its gripes, but who would have thought it was because of boredom? But fortunately (unfortunately for you), the Firelord now found some entertainment in the dullness of the paperwork.

Sighs. 

Of all things Zuko has considered in his life—he really didn’t expect to be burdened by the duties of being a Firelord. He expected his father to rule the world (high possibility); or Azula taking the title of Firelord (also a high possibility). But he didn’t consider himself in the role, ever. 

He was seated on the throne, where the great had come before him. When he was younger, he thought about what it meant to be a Firelord who is always preparing for war, arresting  heinous criminals, and exemplifying tremendous power. 

Not skimming through thousands and thousands of papers. Yawning at every single one of them. 

So it wasn’t a shocker that he would want to abandon all these duties for a day. Especially with the Grand Chamberlain always loading him with all the paper work in the world. 

As he tries not to fall asleep to Chamberlin's speech about what it means to be a ruler in this economic disarray of the nation. Someone barges in, breathing heavily.

“What is the meaning of this?!” The Chamberlain furrowed his eyebrows.

The guard catched his breath and straightened his back to Chamberlain and then at Zuko, “Sorry, Sir! But there seems to be an emergency regarding one of the commanders, Sir!” 

Zuko leaned forward, “And what would that emergency be?”

The guard looks down, visible sweat forming in his forehead.

“Well?” The Chamberlain tapped his foot impatiently, “Spit it out, will you?”

The guard’s shoulders faltered, “Commander Ling has collapsed.”

The guard led them to where the body was found, it was where the Commanders’ dining hall. 

The guard spoke first, “Commander Ling’s body was found hunched over the table where the leftover food had been,” he pointed where the Commander’s body was seated, “on the table there, he was eating.”

The Chamberlain scoffed and crossed his arms, “So he got food poisoning, what was the reason for calling upon the Firelord for?”

Zuko looked around the dining hall to find anything suspicious—nothing. 

The guard looked at the Commander’s leftovers, “We suspect murder, sir.”

The Chamberlain’s eyes widened, and Zuko looked at the guard.

“Have you inspected the Chefs?” 

The guard nodded, “Yes, we have. We found a pot that has the same dish as the Commander’s.” 

“And?” The Chamberlain scratched his beard. 

“It was poisoned.” 

Zuko closed his eyes, “So it was premeditated.”

The Chamberlain and the guard tensed at his words, and to distract himself, the Chamberlain pointed at two maids situated behind the door, “You two! Clean this now! We don’t want to alert others of what has happened.”

The maids bowed their heads and quickly worked their way to the table and cleaned it up.

Zuko and the Chamberlain walked out of the dining hall. The Chamberlain is now going on a tangent about how he will find the murder who dares kill one of the best and brightest Commander’s the fire nation has ever known.

Zuko was half-listening when he accidentally bumped into someone. He was about to apologize when he heard her mumbling,

“How do I tell them?” 

He turned but saw no one. He halts abruptly and he looks back. When he believes it was part of his imagination, he lets himself continue in the direction of the Chamberlain. 

When the Chamberlain ordered you and the maid beside you to clean up the scene—you did not complain. You would have inspected the crime scene itself, but it is understandable they are trying to find out who did it, and not why. 

It is the ascension of power, after all. 

As you thought about this, two hands try to reach for the plate. You grabbed her left wrist and she gasped. 

“Wait,” you let go of her wrist, “you might get poisoned."

She freezes and hastily steps back. She was quaking with fear. 

You let out a sigh, and you pull out three fabrics. You tied one around your nose and mouth. And used the remaining two to hold both sides of the plate.

As you turned to leave, you looked towards the girl, “I suggest you get something to cover yourself from the stench. We don’t want another person collapsing.”

The girl was quaking harder and nodded her head fast as she found something to cover her nose and mouth with. 

You left the dining hall and tried to get this outside to inspect it further. You looked down at the food. 

The guard said there was nothing wrong with the original food, so was it really attempted murder? But it would be difficult to get through the kitchen just to poison one dish. 

You inspected the dish further. 

But if it wasn’t, how would there be poison? 

You accidentally tapped on the plate, a habit you have when you’re thinking. And the clinking sound of the plate sounds off to you. Your eyes twinkled at this.

So that’s it.

You passed someone. You need to tell someone. Anyone, really. 

“How do I tell them?”

As you walk in the back door of the kitchen. You took off the fabric on your face and smelled the food. Your smile widens.

Ah, the smell of chemicals. 

As Zuko was in his study, looking through names he recognized. He couldn’t help but think about what happened to Commander Ling. 

Before he came to the study, he visited the clinic after the scene in the dining hall. The doctor came in, surprised to see the Firelord. 

“How’s the Commander?”

“He’s stabilizing, sir. It is a good thing he didn't take anymore than three spoonfuls.”

Zuko nodded and looked at the Commander again. 

Why would he be targeted? 

Zuko asked himself this question over and over again. It doesn’t make sense, Ling is a good leader. He rarely has any political enemies, and if there were tensions rising, Zuko would have done something about it. 

Zuko looks at the Commander’s mouth. Reddened by the fact the poison has touched his skin. But he examines his body more thoroughly now, and something caught his eye. 

He grabbed at the wrist of the unconscious body and lowered his sleeve. His hand is full of rashes and discoloration of skin. Do poison spread across the body like this?

“What—” The Doctor was amazed and mortified by this discovery. He goes closer to the body and leans. 

“He touched the food. He must have used his hands to eat.” 

“The Commander? He would never—” 

Zuko paused. Of course he would never use his hands. He was always so particular about cleanliness. He might have touched the poison without actually touching the food. 

“How do I tell them?”

He put his pointer finger on his chin and grinned. 

“This will get interesting.”

The Doctor blinked multiple times, admittedly a little terrified of the mischievous aura of the Firelord. 

“What is, My Lord?”

Back to his study, he decided to go to the kitchen to inspect the plates. As he walked down the hall, he couldn’t shake off that voice.

What did she want to tell?

As he made it to the kitchen, he made a flame out of his palm. He saw nothing of the ordinary. As he was about to walk to the plate tray, he saw a cloth situated in front of a window. He went over to it, about to discard it, when it accidentally hit the light from his hand. What he saw amazed him.

When the cloth hit the fire, words started to appear. It read, 

Don’t use these plates. It is made out of mercury. It’s only as beautiful if it doesn’t kill you. 

He read the message again. To get a better look, he pulled the cloth closer to his eye. But the scent was familiar. 

Sour. Citric.

He left the kitchen with a found sense of curiosity. 

“Wake up! Medical check! Wake up!”

You groaned. Why are they doing this early in the morning? In the first place, when have they ever done a medical check?

You got up from your mattress, changed to your robes, and lined up with the rest of the maids. You saw a Eunuch checking the hands of the maids. You didn’t think much about it—isn’t a nurse supposed to check you?

You shook your head, don’t question. Maybe it's just a backwards thinking of the empire. Just don’t get involved. 

As you were next, you noticed that they only checked the hands of the maids. 

Wait. 

You hid your hands behind you. The rashes on your hands don’t look to be too innocent in the eyes of the court. You do not want to be in trouble.

As you think of an escape, it was your turn to be inspected. 

“Miss, your hands.”

You had to lie. You swayed back and forth, “Oh dear! I’m quite insecure about my hands, you see, although I’m healthy!” 

You cringed at yourself at the moment. 

The Eunuch just looked dead at you.

Then he grabbed your wrist.

“Owie!”

He inspected the rashes on your arm and closed his eyes. 

“Miss, please come with me.” He turned his back, “Everyone else is dismissed.” 

Everyone questioned why but slowly went back to their respective tasks for today. The Eunuch started walking out of the room and expected you to follow suit.

You grumbled but followed. You’re trying to find a way to explain how you got the rashes. Allergies? They would punish you. Abuse? Believable but debatable. That’s just your skin? You want a death wish? 

You stared at the back of the Eunuch’s head, and then looked at your side. 

Huh.

“Excuse me, this isn’t the way to the clinic—”

He continues to walk.

Are you already facing your death? If you’re gonna get executed, you wish to get the leftovers of the Commander. 

“Please, go in.”

He stopped at the large door. The Firelord’s study? 

Oh, you’re gonna die now. 

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding. Then push the door open.

The Firelord was seated, stacks of papers on the side of the table. On the other side, an empty plate. 

You bowed, “My Lord.”

He smiled, “Very clever on how you send messages.”

You tilted your head. 

He opened a drawer and brought out a cloth—your cloth. 

“‘Don’t use these plates. It is made out of mercury. It’s only as beautiful if it doesn’t kill you.’ Putting it in front of the window so heat can absorb and make it seen. Kind of cryptic, don’t you think?” 

You looked down, looking meek, “My Lord, you must be mistaken—” 

He stood up and walked towards you, he grabbed your wrist pulling you forward, “Mistaken like how your rashes come from using lemons to write your message?”

You hesitantly stepped back, hid your hands and rubbed them, trying to get rid of the monarch dirt that was inflicted upon you. 

He blinked and opened his mouth, “Walk with me.”

As you walked behind the Firelord, hissing at him admittedly, he looked back at you, “Explain.”

“During the time of your father, most of the utensils and plates were made out of mercury. When mercury reacts with heat, poison tends to spread on the nearby surface. Hot food activated it. Mercury itself, is deadly to the touch—”

“Well, that explains the discoloration on his hands.”

He noticed that? Why does he need you when he already knows everything?

You nodded, “Commander Ling won’t die as he consumed little of the food. As long as you change the material of the tupperware. And convince the other Commanders that if they continue to use it, they continue with their ‘premeditated murder’.” 

Zuko laughed, “The Commanders were always stuffy with their traditions.” 

You both made it to the clinic. 

“Commander Ling,”

“My Lord,” He tries to sit up but coughs. 

The Firelord goes up to him and hands him a cloth, “You don’t have to sit up, Commander,”

“Nonsense!” and he looked at you, “And who is this young lady?” 

The Firelord smiles, “The one who uncovered what happened to you.”

The Commander took a bite from his lunch, “What an honor to meet you.”

You looked at the plate he ate from—ceramic. And your shoulders shook slightly, “Thank God, you’re eating just fine. Please take this”

You passed a small bottle to the Commander, “This might make you vomit, but that’s how the poison is removed.”

The Commander smiled, “Thanks to you, young lady. I owe you one.”

He turned towards the Firelord, “Now, if you mind, my Lord, I would like to enjoy my break for just a little longer.”

The Firelord laughed at this, “Don’t we all.”

You wanted to say something about his work ethic—but you knew you would be beheaded for it, so you just rolled your eyes. 

The Commander laid back down and the Firelord led you to a bed, making you sit down. 

He took a roll of bandages and took your hand.

“My Lord, it’s really alright—”

“Nonsense, you had to squeeze lemons and endure the poison and metal. This is just a small task.”

But you like it—the poison and metal. Not the lemons. 

“I’m assuming you don’t get your knowledge from working here,”

You glared at him. Sharp. Too Sharp.

“You are correct, my Lord.”

He takes your other hand, and wraps the bandages around it, “So, what do you do?”

“Alchemy.”

He widened his eyes, “Not an Apothecary? Knowing how poison works, I certainly thought you were.”

“Both often overlap, but alchemists usually work with elements other than herbs. I focus on materials and making objects rather than potions.”

He tightens the bandage and leans forward, brushing your hair out of your face. 

You made a face. It was honestly disgusting how he can be in your personal space because he’s the Firelord. Also, does he not know boundaries? 

“I’d like to make a request.” 

He leans in closer, your noses touching. But you’re not letting him see that you're affected by this, so you don’t move. 

“What is it, my Lord?”

He leans further, but now directed at your ear. His lips brushing against your ears. His eyes are still on you, dissecting you.

Heh. This is probably the most action he got his whole life. 

You shook so violently, it was like you were having a seizure. But in reality, you were the funniest person—in your head. 

He leans back and raises a brow at you, “What’s so funny?”

You smirked, “Oh, nothing.”

“You were thinking of something rude, weren’t you?”

You looked back and shrugged, “Did I?”

He pouted and took your hand as you both stood up, you gleamed at what he said to you,

“I’d like you to investigate something for me tomorrow.”

Secrets Still Kept

Firelord Zuko x reader

Word count: 1729

Summary: The gaang realized there’s some…tension between you and Zuko, and what are good friends for if not setting you two up? What they don’t realize is that you and Zuko have been together for years.

Katara senses something off.

It wasn’t like anything seems out of the ordinary—the gang is out on some sort of life-threathening mission to save the world once again. But funnily enough, that’s not what she’s been noticing with the two people right in front of her. Walking along the clear night sky and talking about random things that come into mind. 

That’s the thing—it wasn’t weird for both of them to interact. 

Katara, you, and Zuko decided to look for food in the forest; and it’s been years that they’ve seen one another…it’s just, those two still feel close. Almost as if they’ve been seeing each other frequently. Or maybe they could just have a strong bond after all these years. 

You touched the ends of Zuko’s hair, “Your hair has gotten so long,” you twirled a strand in your finger. 

Zuko lets you play with his head as he tilts his head, “Has it? I thought you liked it?” 

“Mhm…”

“Shall I cut my hair?” 

You gasped and pressed your left palm to your chest, “Don’t you dare—” 

“You wouldn’t like me without my hair?” 

You rolled your eyes, “Now you are just putting words in my mouth,”

Zuko puts his hand up in surrender, “I would never do such thing,” 

You move a little closer to Zuko, hands brushing, “And I would not prioritize such a thing—even if it’s your beautiful hair,” 

“Not to say Aang is not handsome without hair, Katara,” you joked. 

Katara giggled, “Oh, if only Aang heard that.”

You put your pointer finger on your chin, “Don’t you ever wonder what Aang would look like if he grew his hair?”

Katara shook his head, “I’ve seen him, once, when we were kids.”

Zuko turned to Katara, “I guess you’ll still stick with the bald look.”

Katara smiled and nodded at that. She wouldn’t have Aang any other way.

But Katara saw something that made her tilt her head. 

You were never an outspoken person, it was difficult for people to read you unless they truly observed. And what Katara saw was the way you leaned a little too close to Zuko, even if you can hear him just fine normally. How a brush of a hand may seem accidental at first, but slowly settles and stays there. How your eyes never wonder off him, even if you need to.

You felt someone stare at you and looked away from Zuko, quickly realizing you were with someone else, you pulled back as quick as you could and looked at Katara.

You smiled at her, a little guilty, “It’s rare we get nights like this, right, Katara?”

She blinked slowly, and nodded absentmindedly.

You turned back to Zuko, unaware of the growing smile that the woman behind you mustered.

You’d thank her later, she thought. 

Sokka believed that Zuko would be the last in the group to be…intangled with someone.

Every conversation ends the same way, “I’m an expert at love! Zuko, buddy, you should be asking me for advice when it comes to this. Don’t you need, what, fire baby heirs?”

Zuko would usually roll his eyes, “Didn’t your last girlfriend turn into the moon?”

He just couldn’t believe Zuko would fall in love with someone; after all, with all the fire lord duties and his awkwardness, how could he?

He squinted. 

“Hey…Zuko?” He started, “Don’t you wanna get that check by Katara?”

He pointed at the bruised hand of Zuko.

Zuko looked down and inspected it, “It’s fine, ointment would do.” 

Sokka nodded, he gets it, not everything has to be healed by Katara. 

He tilted his head, “Wait, do we have ointment—”

“Sokka!” Aang called out.

He looked back as Aang waved at him. He walks towards Aang and shouts, “Wait, hold that thought! I’ll ask Aang or Katara,” 

Zuko, however, was already heading somewhere. He went towards the sleeping Appa and saw the person who could just heal his wound. 

“Zuko!” Sokka called out. He got no response.

“I got ointment, didn’t know Toph would carry some! You know, considering she’s blind!” Still no response. 

He was just about to give up and leave the ointment in Zuko’s tent when he heard a voice. Of course, you might know where Zuko is. 

He started approaching the sleeping Appa, but slowed his steps as he heard you talking to someone.

“Ugh, you fought those thieves hours ago. Yet, you still stayed silent.” You groaned.

Sokka froze on the spot. Now he knows where Zuko went. He should probably leave, but the chuckle Zuko let out made him stop in his tracks. 

“It’s not that bad,”

As Zuko spoke, Sokka took a peak. What he saw was Zuko leaning against Appa, using it as a pillow, and you sitting directly in front of him, adding on the ointment. It was soft. Warm. Intimate.

“Of course you of all people would say ‘it’s not that bad.’ Seriously, we have Katara, might I remind you, a healer. You don’t have to even put on this.” You continued applying the ointment roughly.

Zuko winced, “Well, I’m just testing if you can become a healer one day, you have the potential—“

“Yeah, sure, a non-bender healing,” you cut off.

Zuko clamped his hand over your moving one, “Hey…a healer is not only here to save people, but to remind us that we can still keep going despite what has happened,”

You sighed, “I still don’t understand why you need me to put this on, your other hand is in good condition,” you motioned to his good hand on top of yours. 

Zuko started to stand up and that’s Sokka’s que to move out of there. He turned back and sprinted towards the others.

He saw the campfire while the others were seated around. Aang saw him and grew wiry, “Are you okay, Sokka?”

“Yep. Never been better.” 

Oh hoho, Zuko is gonna thank him later.

Toph doesn’t need two eyes to see there’s tension between two people. When it comes to feelings, people are blind compared to her. All she could hear was, 

Zuko tied his hair into a ponytail, “I’ll be fixing the airship—” 

You tilted your head, “Do you need help with that?”

Or, 

You stood up, “I’ll get some wood,” 

Zuko was already by your side, “I’ll come.” 

It was driving Toph insane. Two people, who can see each other just fine, are blind to see what’s underneath the niceties and pleasantries. 

So, she decided to have a game of her own. 

While the gang was flying on Appa to relocate to their next destination. Aang and Katara were stirring Appa while the rest were in the back. Sokka was finishing up and yapping about his new invention, you braiding Toph’s hair, and Zuko staring into the clouds. 

Perfect. 

Toph poked your side, which caused you to giggle, “Can you describe the person on your right?”

You looked to the person on your right, “Zuko?” You squinted your eyes, “Why?”

“Bet you can’t say something nice about him.”

You look at Zuko and he looks back at you. Silently discussing what’s happening, Toph, Katara, and Sokka perk up their ears in anticipation of what you’re about to say.

“He…looks good in red.”

“Pfft. Basic!” Sokka exclaimed, “Anyone can look good in red.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “He’s gotten buff—”

“That’s my compliment!” Toph sat up, “No one takes it. And no one says it better than I do.”

“But that’s a general compliment!”

“Not specific enough for Zuko,” Katara chimed in.

You sighed and rubbed your temples.

Zuko looked at you, his lips twitching, “Is it so hard to say something nice about me?”

You clenched your teeth, “Not helping.”

Toph put her hand near her ear, “What was that? Can’t hear you being nice!”

Zuko leaned in closer, “It can’t be that difficult, or are you just incapable of being nice?” 

Your eye twitches and you sigh, “Okay, okay, I’ll spill it.”

The three slowly look at you while you come up with what you’re gonna say. Aang continues to look straight ahead.

Toph can hear your heart thumping, Sokka’s leaning in now, and Katara is staring daggers at you.

This is it, the moment they’ve all been waiting for. 

“He’s—”

Appa shook violently and spun as you and Toph grabbed onto each other, Sokka let out a never-ending scream, Zuko shut his eyes, and Katara held onto Aang. 

Aang stabilizes his grip on the lead, as Appa finally stops spinning. Toph and Sokka turned their heads to the avatar.

“Aang!” They both said in unison.

“Are you alright, Aang?” Katara touched his cheek. 

Aang rubbed his nape, “Oh, sorry, I kinda lost hold on Appa—”

Sokka poked his forehead hard, “Aren’t you the avatar? How could you let go of that simple rope?”

“Yeah, twinkletoes, aren’t you supposed to save the world—that includes us, you know!”

While the others are arguing, you turn to face Zuko with a grimace written all over your face. 

Zuko let out a sigh and shook his head. He looks to his right, and you follow his gaze. You move closer to him, sitting beside him as you watch the beautiful fiery sky slowly turn to a gentle and soft shade of the ocean.

Bonus:

As the crew got ready to unpack and set up camp. You find Aang still with Appa fixing his lead.

“Thanks, Aang,” you pet Appa while looking at him.

Aang smiled, “Don’t need to mention it…just, please don't bring up my hair to Katara again.”

You shook your head, “Okay, okay, I won’t.”

After securing the lead on Appa, “But seriously, you can’t even say one nice thing about Zuko? That would save us from, you know, dying.” 

You waved him off, “You know if I do that, I won’t be able to stop.”

That’s true, after all, Aang witnessed it first hand.

“Right, just don’t bring the sensitive topic to Katara again,” he rubbed his head, “She’s been asking me non-stop how I’d look with hair.”

You started walking towards the camp, “seriously, though, why don’t you just grow your hair out?”

Aang went after you, “You know why I can’t!”

You looked back at him, “Then what will happen to you and Katara’s children? Will they also be bald?”

Aang flushed at this, “That’s a conversation we won’t be having!”

Peter Pevensie x Apothecary!reader

It’s suspicious. That is what Susan Pevensie thought when she saw her brother—the High King—looking distinguishingly happy looking at his breakfast. Now, there’s nothing wrong with that, people can be happy seeing their breakfast. 

But Peter was not one of those people.

Edmund noticed that Peter took too many trips to the infirmary. He thought that he was looking after someone (like one of their sisters), but after visiting one day, he found no one but you—the apothecary of the castle.  

“Yes, Your Royal Highness?” You bowed.

Edmund shook his head, “Was the High King here?” 

You nodded. 

“What was he in for?” 

You blinked fast. You opened your mouth, “I…I don’t think I can disclose that, Your Highness.”

He raised one of his brows. Because if something raises his interest, nothing can ever distract him from ever finding out. 

Lucy found Peter on the balcony, looking longingly at the sea. She approached him and settled beside him. Both enjoy the stillness of the night. 

Peter, still looking at the sea, sighed, “How do you get someone to just…notice you?”

Lucy rolled her eyes, “Oh, as if someone would not notice you! I bet it’s all in your head again.” 

Peter shook his head, “I’m serious, Lu! It’s quite difficult.” 

Lucy snorted at her brother’s words. The irony of her brother being the High King, the most eligible bachelor of all the land, believing one person is ignoring him. “Why, do you fancy someone?”

Peter stayed silent. 

But that silence got Lucy thinking: is her brother hiding something?

N/A: I'm just trying to get back into writing---and what better way with Peter Pevensie!