#all blades are so cool let him use them again

[cobaltperun]

The Catalyst (5) - Burning in the Skies

WandaNat x Female Reader

Chapter summary: A desperate battle continues, giving you all a taste of what’s to come and how unprepared you all truly are.

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Masterlist / First Part / Previous Part

Word Count: 4.6k

Note: I changed the last bit of chapter 4 and made it so that the Leviathan falls into the water instead of in the middle of New York. Now, on to the chapter!

-And in the end, we were made to be apart-

You were taking deep breaths, trying to cool down your body enough to avoid damage to it, when Stark flew right to you. “Note to self, if I ever build some sort of training room I need to disable the fire alarms,” he joked and you rolled your eyes as you summoned your glaive back.

“You do that,” your ribbons were cut in half by that stunt and your body heat was already abnormally high, but at least now you were properly warmed up and could use your powers much more effectively. You and Stark looked at the huge alien whale slowly sinking underneath the water surface. “I’d rather not do that again,” you told him, after all, if you exerted that kind of force again your body would go into overdrive and change, and you weren’t eager for that to happen again. Roaring interrupted whatever Stark was about to say, and you both looked toward the portal in horror as another of those whales emerged. “I’m not seeing things, am I?” you swallowed the lump in your throat, wondering just how many of these things were going to come down from space.

“I wish you were,” Stark understood the severity of the situation. More soldiers came with the whale, sooner or later you’d be overwhelmed. You needed more heavy hitters, otherwise this would all be for nothing. He shook his head. “Right, can’t dwell on that. I’ll get its’ attention, you handle the smaller ones.”

That really was your only option right now. “Let’s do it,” you both flew right back into the battle with Stark firing several missiles at the whale and making it turn to him.

You separated from Stark, trusting him to handle himself and turned your attention to the Chitauri soldiers. Your right arm was still limp by your side, but you threw the glaive with your left hand, piercing through two Chitauri on one of the chariots as they flew toward you and then boosted your speed with lightning, zapping toward the falling chariot and yanking the glaive out of the bodies.

Taking them down one or two at a time would take too much time, and too much energy as well. In a split second you made a decision, flying through a groups of them and getting as many of the Chitauri to follow after you. “That’s not dealing with them!” you heard Stark warning you.

You had to smirk at that. “Appreciate the concern, but,” you spun around, flying backwards and lit the bladed side of your glaive on fire while making lightning come out of the other end. “I’ve got this,” you began spinning the glaive above you, using the stray lightning to block the shots from the Chitauri and creating a whirlwind of fire and lightning above your head. The flames and lightning grew larger, spreading rapidly as you stopped and dropped down to the rooftop, causing a tornado of fire and lightning to form and catch the Chitauri that followed you.

“Okay, yeah, Firestorm,” Stark commented, figuring there was no need to worry about you.

You stopped spinning the glaive and glanced at the ribbons, the flight and the tornado just now made them noticeably shorter. You’d definitely have to work on your stamina in the future. You felt the heat in your left forearm, the blue cracks were slowly spreading. As the flames and lightning disappeared and the charred remains of the several dozen Chitauri fell you realized how little that attack did. Despite your efforts there were still too many of them.

Panicked screams pierced through the air and you looked below you, seeing some of the Chitauri were closing in on a floor where there were civilians. “Shit!” you cursed, flying toward them. You slashed through the air with the glaive several times, dropping two chariots and throwing your glaive at another. You flew between two more chariots and struck them with lightning, but you didn’t get to all of them in time and you watched as they fired, taking the aim at the civilians. It was reckless, but you got between the window and the shots, blocking a few, but getting shot twice. Their shots focused on you, blasting through what little protection the jacket provided as you gritted your teeth and swung your glaive in an arch, striking them down.

You strapped the glaive to your back and held your side, feeling the wound there, flames were already emerging from it, showing you just how close you were to an overdrive. At least it stopped the bleeding and closed the wound, but you certainly didn’t like seeing blue flames there. You looked back, realizing in an instant that you couldn’t rescue everyone. One of the people got shot, despite you being right there. You went inside and walked over to the man bleeding out on the floor. He was still alive, so maybe, just maybe you could do something. “Move aside, please,” you said and gently pushed aside another man desperately trying to stop the bleeding with his hands. It didn’t work on Coulson, but maybe this time it would be different.

Lightning crackled around your hand and you pressed it to the wound. The fire alarm got triggered and you nearly laughed, realizing the steam coming from your body had already turned to smoke. The water felt good, soothing your body as it burnt on the inside. You focused on the man’s wound and closed it with the heat from the lightning. “He needs urgent medical attention, this will only buy him some time,” you softly spoke to the people around you.

“What is going on?!” someone fearfully demanded.

Too many things to even start explaining. “Watch the news if you survive,” you said as you got up and turned to leave.

“We are the news!” another person cried out.

Oh, the irony. “Tough luck then,” you jumped out the window and noticed the other regrouping on the street. Well, it was kinda hard to miss Thor landing, so you went down as well, hoping they had something in mind to put a stop to this alien invasion. You flew toward them, cutting through another group of Chitauri and landing close to Rogers.

“What’s the story upstairs?” Rogers asked both you and Thor.

“People are still in the buildings. We need to keep their attention on us,” you said as you looked them over. No one was seriously injured yet, but they definitely didn’t have an easy time down here either.

“The power surrounding the cube is impenetrable,” and Thor just made the whole situation much worse.

“Thor is right, we gotta deal with these guys,” Stark confirmed it.

“How do we do this?” Natasha asked as another group of Chitauri flew above you.

“As a team,” Rogers’ answer was more to boost morale rather than provide an actual solution.

“Well, yeah, but how? We’ll get tired eventually,” even if you killed every single Chitauri here more would come.

“I have unfinished business with Loki,” Thor stated as Clint prepared his arrows.

“Oh yeah? Get in line,” Clint argued, eager to get his hands on Loki himself.

“Save it,” Rogers shit him down. “Loki’s gonna keep this fight focused on us and that’s what we need. Without him these things could run wild. We got Stark up top, he’s gonna need us to-“ he paused as Banner arrived on a motorbike.

“Well, I’ll be damned, he showed up,” you let out a sigh of relief, realizing you’ve just got the heavy hitter you all needed.

The five of you approached Banner as he dismounted and looked around. “So, this all seems horrible,” Banner commented a bit awkwardly.

“I’ve seen worse,” Natasha pointed out.

“Up close,” you added and dramatically coughed to cover it up.

“Sorry,” Banner apologized sincerely. Unleashing the Hulk was not something he wanted to do, especially not in that situation.

“No, we could use a little worse,” Natasha said and he seemed genuinely surprised by that.

“Stark, we got him,” Rogers said through his earpiece and you could hear relief in his voice.

“Banner?” Stark guessed.

“Just like you said,” Rogers confirmed it.

“Then tell him to suit up. I’m bringing the party to you,” Stark replied and you all looked ahead as Stark turned the corner, followed by the second whale that came through the portal.

“I don’t see how that’s a party,” Natasha actually stuttered a bit as she pulled her gun back.

“Doctor Banner, now might be a really good time for you to get angry,” Rogers said as Banner began walking toward the whale without a hint of worry. The whale crashed through the street, trying to get Stark and destroying numerous cars along the way.

“That’s my secret, Cap. I’m always angry,” Baner said and, well, you’d love to say you were surprised, but all things considered you sort of saw it coming.

You watched in awe as he changed, seamlessly, so smoothly you struggled to tell where Banner ended and the Hulk began, it was a natural transformation, without any pained roars, without any issues or resistance on either part. The Hulk smashed his fist into the whale’s mouth and got pushed back but it didn’t matter, the whale was being destroyed right in front of your eyes. It couldn’t do anything to the Hulk.

You stared blankly as the damn whale toppled over, stopped and redirected by Stark’s missiles. You swung your glaive, shielding the team from explosion and just shook your head. “One punch. That’s all it took. And I got in his way less than two hours ago,” as far as you were concerned that was the pinnacle of comedy right there.

The Chitauri roared from the building at all seven of you as you stood in a circle. Hulk roared as Stark landed between him and you. You could hear Natasha and Clint getting their weapons ready and for the first time the seven of you felt like a team. Rogers, Natasha, Thor, Clint, Hulk, Stark and you, all ready to take Loki down as he looked down on you.

And as ready as you all were, he seemed just a bit more ready as more whales and other aliens came flying through the portal.

All seven of you looked up, preparing to continue the battle. “Guys?” Natasha kicked you all into action.

There really was only one person who could lead this team. “Call it, Captain,” and Stark voiced it for all of you.

“Alright, listen up. Until we can close that portal up there our priority is containment. Barton, I want you on that roof, eyes on everything. Call out patterns and strays. Stark, L/N. you two got the perimeter. Anything gets more than three blocks out, you turn it back or you turn it to ash,” well, there were your orders.

You raised your right hand, finally feeling it again, and grabbed your glaive. “Consider it done,” you said as you put some distance between you and the team and taking flight in a burst of flames.

You slammed into one of the chariots and discharged lightning all around you, catching a few chariots at once. You dared to look down, you only had a bit less than a third of the ribbons left. You heard the Hulk smashing through the enemies and felt Thor summoning lightning. “That’s what I’m talking about!” you exclaimed, absorbing some of the lightning that Thor summoned and aiming it at the aliens. It was different from your own lightning, it was natural, almost uncontrollable, almost leaving you drunk with power and tempted to push it all a step further.

The lightning around you focused at the tip of your glaive as you pointed it at the enemies and you could feel the lightning coursing through your body, emerging from it, engulfing you entirely as you held the glaive with your right arm and put your left hand on your forearm. You waited until the aliens charged toward you and fired a laser beam of lightning from the tip of your glaive, a railgun of sorts. You let out a battle cry, focusing more power into the glaive and spreading it across the entire blade before you swung, sending dozens of smaller lightning-made laser beams instead of one large one.

By this point the blue cracks spread all over your body and you looked down to see flames bursting through your forearms against your will. A bit over a fifth of the ribbons was left as you flew lower, picking off any alien in your way. You saw Natasha and Rogers dealing with the Chitauri on the street and swooped down, cutting through a couple that were coming closer to them before jumping above Rogers.

“L/N!” he called out, raising his shield above his head and you decided to put your faith in that shield.

“This better work,” you charged the blade of your glaive and sliced against the shield, causing the lightning to disperse all around you and Rogers, striking several Chitauri. “Noted,” you said as you took a moment to catch your breath.

“You don’t look too good,” Natasha pointed out while she shot one of the Chitauri with their own spear rifles.

You looked at her, at the blood dripping down the side of her face, the bust lip, tears and dust on her uniform. “Neither do you,” although she was probably freaking out over the flames coming out of you, as well as the light yellow glow of your skin. “I’ll start glowing light blue if these,” you raised your right arm and pointed at the ribbon. “Get cut in half again,” the final stage before the overdrive.

“Be careful,” Natasha told you as you gave her a joking salute and flew up again.

The battle continued, one by one the Chitauri fell, but all of you were getting tired as well. You’ve taken several shots over the last half an hour, and your ribbons were reaching their end. From almost ten feet of ribbons you had when you jumped out of the quinjet you were down to five inches. It got to a point where you couldn’t even fly for long, instead going from one rooftop to another and only using your flames or lightning when absolutely necessary.

“Getting low there?” Stark asked when he flew by you.

“Yeah, I’m not sure how much longer I can last without changing,” you told him while you dropped down the side of the building, cutting down the Chitauri that were climbing up while you were at it.

“Maybe we need that boost,” Stark told you and he was right. This was looking like a never-ending fight and a bit of a power-boost might be just what you all needed right now.

However… “Yeah, about that, I’ve only got like two minutes in that form, and then I can’t use my powers for a few hours, period,” if it was just pain you’d deal with it, but overdrive simply wasn’t an option unless you knew the fight would end. You got back on the street and stabbed another Chitauri through the chest and then lifted it above your head and tossed it another one.

“How much time do you have left?” Stark asked, understanding the situation.

“Twenty min- did I just see Natasha on one of those flying things?!” you cried out when you saw her flying above you, unsure if you should go after her or yell at her. A shot grazed your left shoulder and you quickly jumped to the side, sending a fireball toward the alien that fired at you.

“I’ve got her back,” Stark promised you and blasted the Chitauri that were coming after Natasha.

“Thanks, Tony,” you muttered and you swore you could hear him smirk. “Not one word,” you warned as you rushed through the streets, covering people as they were fleeing from the Chitauri.

You cut off the path of about a dozen Chitauri before they could find any civilians that might still be nearby and clashed with them. Your slashes that weren’t powered by fire or lightning were getting weaker due to your exhaustion, and it was getting to a point where it took so much out of you to even pierce through one of them.

You lunged to the side to avoid getting shot at and threw your glaive in utter desperation, just to get a moment to breathe, but your back hit the car behind you and you faltered for a moment. A blast nicked your side and you gritted your teeth. One of the Chitauri slammed into you from the side, pushing you against the wall and you blasted through it with lightning, only for another to hit you. You gasped, coughing up blood as the ribbons dropped to less than an inch length each. You could feel your body burning from the inside, fire coursing through your veins, electricity firing off from each nerve, changing you from the inside as you desperately summoned your glaive and pushed the Chitauri off you. The pale blue glow spread all over your body, your skin broke along the cracks and flames pushed through instead of blood.

“I can close it. Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down!” you heard Natasha’s voice and smiled despite the pain.

Just a bit more and this would all be over.

“Do it!” Rogers ordered quickly.

“No, wait,” your eyes widened when you heard Tony’s panicking voice and just narrowly dodged another Chitauri.

“Stark, these things are still coming!” Rogers exclaimed as you cut the Chitauri’s head off.

“I got a nuke coming in, it’s gonna blow in less than a minute,” Tony’s words changed everything. “And I know just where to put it.”

You were being swarmed by the Chitauri as you heard that and you discharged lightning from your body, leaving only fractions of the ribbons left around your wrists.

“Stark, you know that’s a one-way trip,” Rogers warned him and you let the flames burn around you.

“It won’t be,” you said through the earpiece. As Tony flew up toward the portal with a nuke on his back you let the flames and lightning engulf you entirely and the pain nearly made you drop to your knees. You let out a scream as you felt like your whole body was being changed from within, being torn apart and pieced back together by fire and lightning inside of you. You were engulfed in bright blue light as you took flight once more blasting through the air faster than before and just in time to catch up to Tony.

You watched as he let go of the nuke, sending it at the Chitauri mothership and then the vastness of it all hit you. You instinctively grabbed onto Tony’s armor, trying to power it back on enough to keep him alive as you pulled back toward the portal.

The space, the alien army… if it wasn’t for the nuke you would have lost. You weren’t ready. The Earth wasn’t ready. And your own power was fading as well, not due to two minutes passing, but because you were in space, unable to breathe, forcing your body to move even if it felt like that was an impossible task.

You haven’t felt this weak even when Magneto destroyed your home when you were a child.

You were truly, undeniably, faced with the reality. That if you stayed the way you were you’d be powerless when it came time to face whatever was coming.

~X~

Natasha anxiously looked at the portal, almost cursing you for going after Stark. Why would you be so reckless? “Come on, Y/N,” she whispered, tightly gripping Loki’s scepter.

“Close it,” she heard Rogers ordering and all of a sudden she was back on that mission, leaving you to bleed out.

“Not yet,” she refused the direct order.

“Romanoff,” she could hear this decision was difficult for Rogers too, but she wouldn’t go through with it.

“They’ll come back,” that had to be true. Otherwise she wasn’t sure what she’d do with herself.

Each second felt like an eternity, and then you burst out from the portal, pulling Stark along with you and her heart soared with relief and happiness as she plunged the scepter in to close the portal. She didn’t even watch the portal closing, she just watched you, flying down and landing on the edge of the building, several floors above her and holding Stark by the arm of his suit.

You looked different. And of all the things she expected it certainly wasn’t this.

Your body changed, your skin was blue, as if covered by crystalized blue armor made of hardened flames and lightning if that even made sense. Natasha could swear she saw flames burning just underneath your skin, or perhaps it wasn’t even skin, as it looked like a layer that covered you entirely and went over your clothes. Either that or they burnt away entirely, but she was willing to bet it was the former, rather than the latter. You had protrusions coming from your upper back, with flames bursting from them and keeping you up in the air and it looked like you had a sort of a helmet with two horns on each side pointing upwards. Lastly, she took notice of the blades emerging from your forearms, retracted, from the looks of it.

“Y/N,” she called out to you, noticing your eyes were closed.

Your body swayed back and forth and her relief turned to despair when your body cracked and in a burst of lightning you reverted back to normal, not even your skin was glowing anymore, and there was no smoke coming out of your body, you were entirely spent, and unconscious.

And you fell backward, letting go of Stark and plummeting down from the top of the Stark Tower with Stark falling right beside you. Natasha didn’t even cry out, she couldn’t, she just rushed over to the side of the building, watching helplessly as you kept falling.

No matter how tense things were between you, no matter how angry you were, she just got you back into her life and was now watching you fall to your death. And then the Hulk caught you and Stark and she felt like she could breathe again, hoping that you and Stark were just unconscious.

~X~

Roar of a furious beast jerked you awake and you abruptly sat up and winced. “What the fuck was that?!” you looked around, realizing the Hulk was the one who roared and that Rogers and Thor were standing over you and Tony. You actually came back from space.

“What the hell? What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Tony demanded and you looked at him incredulously.

“We won,” Rogers told the two of you and you raised a finger, despite how much effort that took out of you.

“Yeah, but did anyone kiss him? Or me while we’re at it?” you asked, deciding right then and there that maybe you’ve spent a bit too much time with Tony in space.

Thor chuckled. “Do not fret, nobody kissed either of you.”

“Alright, Hey. Alright. Good job, guys. Let’s just not come in tomorrow. Let’s just take a day. You ever tried shawarma? There’s a shawarma joint about two blocks from here. I don’t know what it is, but I wanna try it,” and Tony was rambling, which, considering he nearly died, in space mind you, was understandable.

You just wanted to lay back down and rest.

“We’re not finished yet,” Thor shattered that dream into countless pieces.

“And then shawarma after?” at least Tony had his priorities set.

“Count me in, I’m starving,” you voiced your support for the idea, but first… locking up Loki.

“Romanoff, Barton, they are alive,” Rogers said through the earpiece.

“I heard,” you have never heard Natasha’s voice so vulnerable and filled with relief.

~X~

You and Tony were flown up to the top of the Stark Tower by Thor, seeing as neither of you was moving all that well, and Rogers was taken there by Thor as well, just to do things quicker. The Hulk jumped to the top of the building in a couple of hops and Clint made his way to the top as well while Natash was already waiting for all of you there.

The moment you separated from Thor you saw a blur of black and red and felt Natasha hugging you tightly. “Hey,” you muttered, too tired to think about everything that happened in the past. You just relaxed and hugged her as tightly as your current state allowed.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” she whispered, digging her fingers into your back as she buried her face in the crook of your neck.

“Yes, Ma’am,” if a situation like this occurred again and if you fought there was no way you’d be able to keep that promise, but for now, fresh out of the battle, you’d pretend it was a promise you could keep. “You kept the portal open,” you vaguely remembered the portal staying open until you went through it and Natasha froze at that. “Thanks, Nat,” you whispered, her actions today leaving a significant crack in your anger toward her.

“Okay, love birds, time for the show!” Tony called the two of you out. “Come on, let’s strike a team pose!” he ushered everyone to stand exactly how he wanted them to as Loki regained consciousness and slowly turned onto his back.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll have that drink now,” he said, only earning a growl from Hulk.

~X~

With Loki captured, the battle over and won, and shawarma eaten there really wasn’t anything else left to do. Sure, you could stay behind and wait for Thor to take Loki away but you had a lot to think about. The space, the threat that was inevitable, your place in all of this, you needed peace and quiet to think about it.

Tony was gracious enough to let anyone who didn’t have a place to crash at stay the night in his tower, but you intended to leave as soon as you cleaned up and got a fresh set of clothing. You called the elevators in a T-shirt and jeans and with your glaive on your back. The doors opened and you saw Tony there.

“Surveillance,” he shrugged, sort of implying he’s been riding up and down on the elevator since he saw you were leaving.

“I figured,” you replied and got in.

“You saw that, didn’t you?” he asked and for the first time you noticed just how affected he was by what he saw. There was barely concealed panic in his eyes, and you were sure he’d get PTSD from this battle, if he wasn’t already struggling with it from his time as Iron Man.

“Yeah, we’re in over our heads,” you barely understood anything you saw, and you were sure he had a much clearer idea of what it all meant, but you knew it was bad.

“We need to be ready,” it wasn’t even a question. You couldn’t back out now. You were an Avenger. And there was a battle to be fought.

“That’s why I’m leaving. These powers are too unrefined, I’m too inexperienced with them. I need to be stronger,” and you’d start by dealing with the overdrive issue. You couldn’t afford to be unable to use your powers for hours after the transformation that was already short-lived. Tony nodded as the elevator doors opened, and you stepped out, accepting this duty and the risks that came with it.

A/N: And with that we're done with The Avengers, on to Reader's Origin story!

Taglist: @toxicitytiger @wandaromamoff69 @womenarehotsstuff @psychickryptonitebouquet @seventeen-x @maddsdotorg @arualdcg @ilovemybabygirlmoon @redroomgraduate @canyonyodeler @skz-xii

[azuree1733]

All I want for Christmas is dc letting Jason be cool again 😔

[deadsetobsessions]

Fae adjacent! Danny, pt. 3

Jason returns to consciousness with a scream trapped before it could come to life. He twisted his neck back and forth and back and forth.

It was the last thing he did before he died. When the Joker left and told him to say hello to the big guy, Jason could not muster up the energy to make a single sound.

But Bruce… Bruce was here this time, heavy head making the mattress by his leg dip.

The scars that ran over his face stretched as he blinked.

“…B?”

Bruce’s head shot up, eyes bloodshot and bags heavier than a Gotham socialite’s solid gold Dior purse.

“Jaylad.”

Jason- Jason was alive now. Bruce’s hug felt warm, the tear spot on his shoulder was damp as his dad cried while hugging him.

And Jason should be happy. He’s alive again. His dad loved him.

But all he could think about was the cold of the coffin, the squelch of mud and dirt, and the unerringly wrong feeling of knowing he came back but he came back wrong.

——

Tim had wandered Gotham in the weeks following Jason’s reawakening. He wasn’t avoiding Bruce Wayne. He wasn’t. But Tim knows he’ll have to answer questions soon. He just wasn’t ready.

Tim looked up at the den of pixies- pixies were real!- and squared his shoulders. He did his research. Tim Drake walks into the den with nothing but foolish hope and Gotham-brand audacity. He’ll get answers about Danny today. He will.

——

Soul-Plucker, they called him. Danny Fenton, the proprietor of Fenton Artifacts. The High King.

“I thought King Oberon was the High King?”

The pixies chittered at the little human that could have been kin. Their wings fluttered at their backs, muffled by cloth. It’s not often they find kindred. It really is too bad that Fenton had his mark on the child. How they would have loved to whisk him away. He would have made entertainment that would last a millennia! Or until the court decided to cut of his tongue, at least. How well he had tricked them!

“Of course! Of course! King Oberon is our king, see?” A younger pixie swirled her drink, a shining red and blue thing. “But he’s the High King of another court!”

“The High King of the Infinite Realms, encompassing far more than King Oberon and Queen Tatianna could ever reach.”

Another pixie chimed in, on their fourth glass of amber colored nectar. “The Soul-Plucker!”

“The Beginning of the End.”

“Afterlife IRS department!”

“He who wanders.”

“Death-Caller.” Another one said, grave and serious.

“The Arbiter.”

“So, he’s like, the boss of bosses?” Tim asked. What kind of entity did he make a deal with? Why was he kind to Tim? What motives did Danny have?

“Uh huh!”

“Then what’s he’s doing here?”

“Who knows? The whims of the most powerful are unknown to us.” The pixies clustered around Tim. “Won’t you play another game with us, Alvin? You’re so good at it! Oh, how about a drink?”

“Can’t. I gotta get home. Also, I’m a minor.” Tim slipped passed their fluttering wings and manic smiles. They move to let him past, waving drinks at him in a tantalizing manner.

“And where is that, sweet one?”

“Somewhere, Liltri. Somewhere.”

Tim Drake was a child of pure will, pure hard headed foolishness, a mind sharper than any blade, and luck more terrifying than the creatures he now dealt with. And so, he stepped out of the Pixie Bar with more questions than answers but he stepped out unharmed.

——

“Who are you?” The shadows shift as Lady Gotham unveiled her knight.

Danny felt his eyes cool, glinting green and blue. Lady Gotham forgets who her liege is.

“Haven’t you done your research? You who walks along the edge of shadows, my shop is not a place to dismiss decorum.”

“You brought… you brought him back. How. Why?”

“You want answers? Then give me something in return.”

Danny gestured to the circle his clients have come to know as the deal-maker. Danny doesn’t ask for much in return. Just… something equal to the request.

“Ah,” Danny pointed up at the sign. “I am legally able to deny you my service, so don’t get any ideas.”

Batman was studied up on myths. But he was not a believer, and that both hindered and helped him. What was a god, in front of the faithless? What was the faithless in front of power?

The vigilante stepped into the circle, unable to see the subtle shimmering of magic but remained unbound by the virtue of his disbelief.

“What do you want for answers?”

“You do not often deal with the occult, do you?” Danny tapped the counter. Batman remained silent.

“I have a soft spot for vigilantes,” Danny continued. “And so I won’t ask for much. Just… your cape.”

“Not my hair? A body part?”

“If you were dealing with the fae, you’d probably would lose something of that value, yes.”

“You aren’t fae.”

Danny merely smiled. “Do we have a deal?”

“My cape in exchange for honest answers to my questions.”

Danny huffed, approval glinting in his eyes.

“Your cape for honest answers to three questions,” Danny pointed at the sign, still hanging above them. “Three questions or nothing.”

Batman grimaced. “Deal.”

“Ask your questions, protector.”

“Why did you bring Jason back to life?”

“I didn’t.” Danny grinned. The Bat should have stipulated that he must answer elaborately. He looked like he realized that. Oh well. His mistake. Well, not like there was actual magic binding Danny, so technically, Danny could lie off his ass.

“…Will Jason stay alive?” Danny had a heart and this man was a much better father than Jack ever was.

“Yes. Barring unnatural causes, his soul is firmly attached to his body and will not shuffle off the mortal coil without warning.”

The lines of Batman’s shoulders slumped. Relief. He paused.

“What are your intentions in this city?”

“To run my shop… and to enjoy retirement.”

Danny laughed at Batman’s stoic face. “Disappointed I am not up to nefarious deeds, little knight?”

“No.”

Danny tapped the table. “My payment?”

Batman shucked off his cape and handed it to Danny.

“Why my cape?”

Danny smiled a fanged little thing. “Because your costume looks stupid without it and I could use a laugh.”

Batman grumbled and turned to leave. Ha paused, eyes catching on the glint of camera lenses.

“How much for that?”

“For the little sparrow’s camera?” Danny sighed, eyes fixed on the form of a vigilante who was more kind than angry for once. “Two thousand dollars.”

“That’s a huge markup.”

“That’s how much it means to me, compared to the rest.” Danny slid beyond the counter, a ghostly air about him. He pinned his newly earned cape up. “My shop, my prices, little knight.”

Batman silently handed him two thousand dollars and left with the little sparrow’s camera.

[moonstruckme]

Mae I am politely begging you for a hurt/comfort sickfic (specifically the food poisoning after a bbq because I totally don’t have something like that right now 😵‍💫) from that prompt for poly!wolfstar or marauders pleaseeeee pretty😭

Oof sorry you had to deal with that babe! Thanks for your request

cw: vomit, not entirely vague descriptions of vomit either so please be careful with yourself if that’s a trigger for you

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 606 words

“I’m so sorry,” says Remus, his hand wearing a path between your shoulder blades as you bend over the toilet.

You cough. Saliva strings embarrassingly from your mouth. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, it is,” Sirius says, though he kisses Remus’ cheek in apology.

“I know.” Remus manages to sound more miserable than you feel. You set a hand on his knee. It's the best you can do for comfort at the moment.

He squeezes it as though you aren’t the most disgusting creature alive, so it’s a fair trade.

“Do you want a tissue?” he asks softly.

“Yes, please.”

You’ve been sick on and off for hours. You don’t know how it keeps coming on so violently, but it's bad enough that you have to blow your nose every now and then to get rid of the excess. Your stomach is a wreck, sore and overworked to the point that you’ve begun shaking with exertion every time you have to lean over the toilet again. All brought on by some seemingly undercooked ribs Remus made for your barbeque yesterday. Your boyfriends have spent last night and most of today sitting vigil with you on the bathroom rug.

After you discard your tissue, your stomach makes a loud noise of upset and you bend, groaning.

“This is so humiliating.”

“There’s nothing humiliating about needing some help from your very loving boyfriends,” Sirius chides you lightly, standing up to refill your cup of water. “What else are we good for?”

“Don’t answer that,” Remus murmurs. He smiles when you chuckle weakly. It’s worth the brief ache in your abdomen.

“I can hear you conspiring,” Sirius hums as he crouches back by your side. “Do you think you’re done being sick for now?”

You nod, taking the water from him. It feels pleasant and cool on your throat.

“Slow, love,” Remus reminds you. You listen, taking smaller sips until the cup is empty.

You take a breath, relieved when your nausea doesn’t immediately worsen. Your eyes fall on Sirius.

He squints playfully. “What?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t hm me. You want something.”

You look at him through your lashes, sheepish. “Could you do that thing again?”

Only Sirius could make a scoff sound so fond. “You only ever have to ask, sweetness.” He moves closer behind you, nudging one of Remus’ legs out of the way. “Scoot, perpetrator.”

Remus does scoot, and though you shoot him an apologetic look you can’t bring yourself to regret your request when Sirius settles his hands surely over your middle. He pushes gently on the softest part of your stomach. An involuntary whimper rises in your throat.

Sirius tsks softly. “Okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. It’s nice.”

He chuckles. “That’s okay, baby.”

You let yourself go lax for a while, Sirius all but holding you up as he pushes and prods at your tormented abdomen. Sighs and the occasional whimper float past your lips. When you crack your eyelids, Remus is nearly asleep with his back against the wall.

“Sorry for making you guys stay here,” you mumble. Hesitant to disturb the peace, but it has to be said.

Remus speaks without opening his eyes. “You’re not making us do anything, lovely. It’s not your fault my ribs were bad.”

“I don’t know,” you admit. “I’m the only one who got sick, maybe it wasn’t even them.”

Sirius hums. “Not quite true.”

You and Remus both look at him questioningly.

“James said Reg started feeling queasy this morning.”

“Oh, god.” Remus drops his head to his knees. “I’m sorry.”

Sirius reaches for Remus’ hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “You are lucky you’re so cute.”

[sugarwarachan]

Hi hi!! So tomorrow is my birthday, and I REALLY liked your Izuku x reader, I was wondering if maybe I could get an Izu x reader bday fic? If not- totally cool! Figured I’d ask <3

first of all, happy birthday!! i hope it's lovely and that this short little fic adds some joy to your day! <3

pairing: izuku x reader (all characters 18+)

cws: fluff, nfsw, smut, suggestive, afab!reader, fingering, izuku being teeth-rottingly sweet

Izuku is physically incapable of being calm about your birthday. It’s the first birthday you’ve celebrated together as a couple, so he wants to have everything go right.

Which means he might go a little overboard on birthday prep.

He sends you flowers every day the week before, each one bearing a card counting down the date. T minus 3 days until my baby’s birthday! Your friends tease you mercilessly, but you actually find it sweet. It’s so Izuku, so cute and anticipatory.

He consults everyone you’ve ever known to determine what presents are suitable for you. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was Izuku you were talking about (and that he played Bakugou’s voice memo OUT LOUD), you’d be a little suspicious at how often his phone is lighting up.

When the day of your birthday arrives, you nearly expect him to have a balloon arch over your bedroom doorway. But no, it’s just Izuku in the kitchen making coffee, sweats hanging low on his hips and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. He’s needed them more as he’s gotten older, and you think they’re the sexiest thing he can wear.

"Hey, handsome." You hug him from behind.

He cranes his neck to peer down at you, smiling widely. "Morning, birthday girl. Made you your favorite coffee." His hand spans behind him to drag you in front of his body, cradling you between the countertop and his chest. He presses a mug into your hands and kisses your cheek. "How do you wanna start your day?"

You lean into him, a sharp little thrum of arousal slicing through your stomach when your ass brushes against his groin. He’s not hard yet but he’s always sizable, and the idea that he could shuck your pajama bottoms off and bend you over the counter suddenly has your head spinning.

"Whatcha thinking about there?"

There’s such an obviously pleased smile on his face that you can’t help but roll your eyes.

"You know what I’m thinking about."

His hand tightens on your hip. "Put the coffee down, honey."

It’s amazing how quickly you spark desire in the other, how one subtle shift of your hips will make Izuku grind his hardening cock against the meat of your ass.

"You don’t have a schedule we need to adhere to?"

He laughs. "That’s for later. I want you all to myself this morning."

You’re already sensitive and swollen from how good he fucked you last night. His fingers gently caress your folds, thumb rubbing over the hood of your clit. You groan, need already climbing in your lower belly.

"Let’s use just a little bit of lube, huh, baby? Help make sure it’s good for you? I did get a little rough with you last night." He kisses a path in between your shoulder blades. "I’ll try and warm it up a little in my hands, I know you hate how cold it is."

Your hands grip the counter to steady yourself. "Izu, you’ve got to stop being the sweetest fucking guy I’ve ever dated."

"Why’s that?” His fingers pry you apart again, nudging your entrance. He swirls the pad of his thumb over your clit while his fingers gently suck into you, eased in by the lube. it helps the gentle ache left behind from yesterday. "That would ruin my plans of eventually convincing you to marry me."

A little pulse flutters in your stomach.

"Oh. Do you like that, baby? That I wanna marry you one day?”

Your head drops when two of his fingers slide inside of you.

"Of course I like it," you gasp. "The hottest pro hero in Japan wants to marry me?"

"Pretty sure that title belongs to Todoroki—"

"Could we please not talk about Shouto right now?"

"Right, right. Sorry, baby.” He takes his fingers out of your pussy and licks your slick away with the flat of his tongue, smiling when he sees the look on your face. "That’s my title in your eyes, right? That’s all I care about.”

You blush so furiously it makes your ears burn. It still takes you aback how sweet Izuku can be.

"We’ve got hours, birthday girl. Let's go put them to good use."

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works. masterlist here. cute divider by @bronzewasp

[pseudowho]

As usual, I have no one to talk about this but... Have you seen those "mom instincts are cool, but let's talk about dad reflexes for a sec" vids???

Kento with dad reflexes? (Pretty sure he already has it when he's single or even in canon when Yuji is accompanying him in missions lmao)

I'm just in my bed giggling, kicking my feet because I can imagine him having those like when his baby girl would trip and he moves so FAST to catch her 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 man idk where I'm going with this it's just making me go skkdkddkdjd

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The footsteps were slow, slick, echoing-- considered. At this stage, Kento didn't know if he and Yuuji were being hunted, or if they were the hunters. He suspected both.

The mansion fell apart around them, broken pipes lazily spewing sewage and muck. Kento felt the softly yielding floorboards beneath his feet, aware that if he wasn't careful, the second floor would very quickly become the first floor and--

"Oi, Nanamin!" Bounding, youthful footsteps hopped up beside Kento, who felt and heard the repercussions up the walls, the crack in the floorboards, the imminent collapse--

With the barest flash of movement, the floor beneath Yuuji's feet was missing, and Yuuji hung by his collar in Kento's iron grip, slowly rotating in the air as floorboards rumbled away with distant clatters. Otherwise, silence. A mildly dismayed hum from Kento, as he twizzled his blade in his other hand.

"Wow, Nanamin! Good refle--"

"Please make sure I do not have to use them, Itadori-kun."

"Ah...yeah."

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Curse-killing on a moving Subway train in the middle of the night wasn't the sort of overtime Kento needed...but when he heard the mission had been given to you, and you alone, he felt a sickening twist of anxiety in his gut. Not that you knew how he felt.

Kento bridled with incandescent rage, seeing you tumble down the rattling carriage, pinballing between poles and seats. Your fatal blow to this filthy Curse was not fatal quickly enough.

"Come on! It's dead, time to--" Kento's call was cut short, sensing imminent disaster as you kicked the door through on the opposite end of the carriage, and the Curse staggered into the walls, making the carriage list sideways, making you list sideways at the open door in your bullet-shot speed through this gloomy tunnel--

All at once, you felt yourself falling from the moving train, rolling and tumbling but wrapped up in something so warm that smelled so good.

You rolled to a stop, still full-body bear-hugged by Kento. You lay under him for a moment, face to chest through the torn off buttons of his shirt. He unfolded you with a soft sigh, hands and knees planted either side of your head and hips.

"Wow, Kento. Good refle--"

"Dinner, I--...we should go out for dinner."

"Oh. Like...now?"

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"Daddy, watch this--"

One little blonde girl, suspended and giggling upside down, caught. Kento, sighing, holding her by her ankle by the tree she was almost certainly too small to climb.

-----------------------------

"Jump, jump, jump, jump, ju--"

A full-suited barrel-roll across the living room, a near-miss with a tiny head and a coffee table corner. The boy peered sheepishly up at his daddy, whose narrow brown eyes glowered down in silent disapproval.

"Daddy, I was jumpi--"

"Hush. Be more careful."

-----------------------------

"I'll race you--"

"No, I'm winning I'M WINNING I'M---"

A flash of movement. One little boy and one little girl, hunched over and suspended by the backs of their jeans, spinning and surprised.

Kento grunted once, loaded down with shopping bags, hooking the boot of the car up with one foot, his keys between his teeth. He spat his keys onto the seat.

A truck barrelled past, its driver certainly not looking for little people. Kento grunted again, dropping children and shopping bags.

"Do not-- I repeat, do not run in the car park."

"...sorry daddy."

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You reached out towards Kento, seeing something glimmer in the honey-blond of his hair. His hand snapped up, grasping yours reflexively round the wrist. He let go immediately, apologetic.

"Sorry, I--...rough day with the kids." You smiled, stroking his cheek, and he leaned into your soft palm, planting a kiss there. Your gaze wandered to his hair again. Kento raised an eyebrow at you.

"What?"

"You've, uhm...got a grey hair."

Silence. A moderately dismayed hum.

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I agree. Nanami Kento has dad reflexes.

-- Haitch xxx

[hisfavegirl]

Choices - Aemond Targaryen x SisterWife!Reader x Aegon Targaryen.

Summary : you were tired of being just a shadow, after that night something inside you changed. the choice you made that night changed your entire life.

After that night — the night you found yourself once again in Aegon’s arms, wrapped in his warmth until the break of dawn — you made a decision. No longer would you allow yourself to be consumed by the ache Aemond had caused. The pain had festered for too long, and you were done being a prisoner to it.

As you stepped out of Aegon’s chambers that morning, the castle corridors seemed quieter than usual, though you knew it was only an illusion. Eyes followed you. Servants, guards, and courtiers glanced your way, some pretending to be preoccupied while others stared openly, their gazes sharp with judgment or curiosity. Their whispers echoed softly behind you, low murmurs carrying words you didn’t care to hear.

But you didn’t falter. You kept your head high, spine straight, and your steps measured with purpose. The faint smirk on your lips was barely noticeable, but it was there — a silent defiance. Let them talk. Let them wonder. Let them think whatever they pleased. For the first time in a long while, you felt in control. You had spent too long chasing affection from a man who refused to see you. Now, they would all see you.

The light fabric of your gown swayed gently as you walked, the cool morning air brushing against your skin. You could still feel the warmth of Aegon’s touch lingering on you, like an invisible armor shielding you from their stares. Your heart didn’t ache this morning — not for Aemond, not for anyone.

As you approached the main hall, you saw Alicent at the end of the corridor. Her eyes met yours, narrowing with a look you knew well: suspicion. Her gaze flickered to the way your hair was still slightly tousled, the faint mark barely hidden beneath the neckline of your gown. Her lips pressed into a firm line, but she said nothing. She didn’t have to. Her silence was its own form of disapproval.

But you didn’t slow down. You walked past her with that same unshaken grace, ignoring the weight of her gaze on your back. You had made your choice, and you wouldn’t apologize for it. Let them all watch. Let them all whisper. None of them had ever truly seen you before. But now, they would.

You were in your chamber, brushing through your silver hair in front of the mirror, the soft glow of the morning sun spilling through the window. The air was calm, the gentle chirping of birds outside offering a rare sense of peace. You adjusted the neckline of your gown, letting it rest just right on your shoulders. But that peace was short-lived.

The sound of your chamber door being thrown open echoed through the room, making you flinch. The handle slammed against the stone wall with a loud clang, and as you whipped your head around, your heart froze. There he stood — Aemond. His face was a mask of fury, his single eye sharp and burning like wildfire. He didn’t wear his eyepatch, and the sapphire in his empty socket caught the morning light, making it gleam with an eerie brilliance. His chest rose and fell with the weight of his breathing, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles had turned white.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His gaze bore into you like a blade, unwavering and filled with rage that simmered just beneath the surface. It wasn’t the cold indifference you’d grown used to — no, this was something much more dangerous.

“You think I wouldn’t hear it?” he hissed, his voice low and venomous. He took a step forward, slow and deliberate, like a lion stalking its prey. “The whispers. The stares. Do you know what they’re saying?” His voice grew louder with each word, his tone sharp as steel.

You didn’t respond, your jaw tightening as you kept your ground. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you refused to look away. Let him rage, you thought. Let him see that I am no longer his to break.

He took another step forward, his gaze never leaving you. His lips curled into something caught between a snarl and a sneer. “They’re saying you left his chamber this morning.” His words came slow, deliberate, as if he wanted to savor the taste of them — as if saying it out loud made it more real. His eye narrowed, his gaze raking over you as if searching for evidence of your betrayal.

“Say something,” he demanded, his voice sharp like a crack of thunder. “Deny it. Dare to lie to me.”

You exhaled slowly, straightening your posture. You felt the warmth of defiance rise in your chest. No longer would you tremble beneath his gaze. No longer would you be the one left unseen, unloved. If he wanted the truth, you would give it to him.

Your eyes met his with quiet, unyielding strength. “Why should I?” you asked, your voice steady and clear. “It seems you’ve already decided what to believe.”

His nostrils flared, and for a moment, his eye darted to your neck. You knew what he saw — the faint mark that lingered just above your collarbone. His lips pressed into a hard line, his chest heaving. His gaze lingered on that spot for far too long before his eye snapped back to yours.

“Is this how you get back at me?” he snarled, stepping even closer, his face inches from yours now. “Him?” He said it like a curse, filled with disgust. His breath was hot, his presence overwhelming. “You’d disgrace yourself — disgrace me — just to prove a point?”

Your eyes narrowed, your lips curling into a bitter smile. “Disgrace you?” you repeated softly, as if tasting the words yourself. You tilted your head slightly, letting him see the mark more clearly, daring him to look at it. “You speak of disgrace, husband, but tell me —” Your voice was quieter now but sharp as a blade. “Was it not disgrace when you left me for her?”

The words hit him like a slap. His eye widened for a moment before it narrowed into a glare more dangerous than before. His jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching as he clenched his teeth. You saw it — that flicker of guilt, that fleeting moment of realization. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by pride and rage.

“You forget your place,” he said coldly, his voice like ice.

You raised your chin, your gaze never leaving his. “No, Aemond,” you said firmly. “I’ve only just found it.”

Silence hung between you like a drawn sword, sharp and dangerous. His breathing was heavy, his gaze wild with emotions he refused to name. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t cower. For the first time, you stood as his equal — no, more than that. You were beyond him now.

Without another word, he turned sharply on his heel, his black cloak whipping behind him as he stormed out of the room. The door slammed shut, the echo reverberating through the stone walls. You exhaled slowly, letting the tension drain from your body, your heart still pounding like a war drum.

Your gaze shifted to the mirror. You stared at yourself for a long moment, fingers brushing over the faint mark on your neck. Slowly, your lips curved into a small, victorious smile. Let him rage. Let him burn. He had his chance, and he threw it away.

You stepped into your mother’s chambers, the air thick with tension. Alicent stood in the center of the room, her face hard with disapproval, eyes sharp like the edge of a dagger. Her arms were crossed, her fingers tapping slowly against her sleeve — a silent warning you knew all too well.

Beside her stood her. Your sister. Helaena. Her soft, distant gaze remained fixed on the floor, fingers nervously twisting together. She looked as innocent as ever, unbothered, unaware of the weight of it all. But to you, she was a symbol of everything you had lost. Every unspoken word. Every stolen glance. Every moment of your husband’s love that was never yours to begin with.

“Sit,” Alicent commanded, her voice firm, unyielding. You knew better than to refuse. Slowly, you walked toward the chair across from her and sat, keeping your back straight, head held high. If she wanted to scold you, she would have to see that you were no child to be lectured.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Alicent’s voice was low but sharp, every syllable cutting through the silence. Her eyes bore into you, searching for a hint of shame. “The entire Keep is whispering about you. About him.” Her lips curled with distaste at the mention. “Do you think this is how a princess behaves? Do you think this is how a wife honors her vows?”

You kept your gaze on her, unblinking. “Did he honor his?” you asked, your voice quiet but unyielding. “Did he honor me, Mother, when he left me to wither in the shadow of another woman? Did he honor me when he sought solace in her arms instead of mine?"

Alicent’s face stiffened, her nostrils flaring as if you’d struck her. She stepped forward, her eyes narrowing with warning. “Watch your tongue,” she hissed. “You are his wife. It is not your place to question him. It is your duty to endure.”

“Endure?” You let out a short, bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I have endured, Mother. I have endured his indifference, his silence, and his loyalty to someone who was never his to love. And you expect me to endure it forever?” Your eyes flickered to Helaena, still quiet, still absent in her own mind. “Is that what you taught her too?”

“Enough!” Alicent’s voice cracked through the air like a whip, sharp and final. “Do not speak of your sister in this.”

But you didn’t stop. Not now. Your eyes locked on Helaena, and for the first time, she met your gaze. There was no malice in her eyes, only confusion, and somehow that made it worse. “You took him from me,” you said, voice laced with quiet fury. “You didn’t even know you were doing it, did you?” You tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “Do you know now?”

“Stop this,” Alicent snapped, stepping between you and Helaena. “Do not blame her for your failures.” Her voice was colder now, laced with disgust. “I raised you to be better than this — to be better than your selfishness. Do you think Aegon cares for you? Do you think that boy sees you as anything more than his next distraction?”

Your heart twisted, but you didn’t let it show. You had already asked yourself those questions, lying awake at night in the stillness of Aegon’s chambers. You had seen the shadows of doubt creeping into your mind. But here, before Alicent’s judgmental gaze, you wouldn’t break. You couldn’t.

“At least he sees me, Mother,” you whispered, eyes narrowing into slits. “At least he doesn’t pretend I’m invisible.”

Alicent stepped forward, her face inches from yours now. Her gaze was fierce, unrelenting. “He will ruin you,” she said with quiet fury, her voice deadly calm. “And when he’s done, when he grows bored, you will be left with nothing. No husband, no name, and no place in this world.” She leaned in, eyes hard as steel. “Is that what you want? To be nothing?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, your eyes burning with unshed tears, but you did not let them fall. “I was already nothing to him,” you said softly, each word hitting like a blow. “At least now, I am seen.”

Alicent’s face twisted in disappointment, her lips pressing into a thin, angry line. She shook her head slowly, eyes filled with something like pity. “You are lost,” she whispered, stepping back from you as if you were something tainted. “And you will regret this.”

“Perhaps,” you replied, rising to your feet, your heart pounding but your voice unwavering. “But at least I will regret it on my terms.”

You turned to leave, walking past Helaena without sparing her another glance. She didn’t stop you. She never did. And as you left, you heard Alicent’s voice behind you, cold and sharp as ever.

“Don’t come to me when he casts you aside,” she said, her tone final, like a judge passing sentence.

You didn’t turn back. Let her think she had won. Let them all think that. You had nothing left to lose.

You walked along the garden path, your gaze soft as you watched your daughter chase after a butterfly. Her tiny feet padded across the grass, her giggles filling the air with a melody sweeter than any song. Her silver hair shimmered in the dappled sunlight, her little hands reaching for the butterfly that danced just out of her grasp.

A smile tugged at your lips. Moments like these felt like fleeting dreams, too delicate to last but too precious to forget. The weight of everything else seemed lighter here, where only the sun, the breeze, and your daughter’s joy existed.

From the far end of the garden, you noticed a figure approaching. His familiar, unhurried stride was impossible to miss. Aegon. He walked with his usual air of mischief, hands in his pockets, his eyes locked on you with a knowing grin.

“Look at her,” he called as he drew closer, tilting his head toward your daughter. “Chasing dreams she’ll never catch.” His tone was playful, but his eyes lingered on you a moment too long.

“She doesn’t know that yet,” you replied, watching your daughter spin in circles, trying to catch the butterfly as it fluttered just beyond her reach. “Let her believe she can.”

Aegon’s grin widened at that. “Spoken like a mother.”

By the time he reached you, your daughter had already noticed him. Her eyes lit up, and she abandoned her chase, running toward him with all the speed her little legs could muster. “Uncle Aegon!” she cried, her voice high and delighted.

“Little dragon!” he laughed, crouching down just in time to catch her in his arms. He lifted her with ease, spinning her around, her giggles turning into shrieks of joy. “Higher? Higher, you say?” he teased, his voice loud with mock surprise.

“Higher, Uncle! Higher!” she squealed, her arms stretched toward the sky as if she could touch the clouds.

Aegon obliged, hoisting her even higher, spinning her in wide circles that had her squealing with glee. His laughter mixed with hers, louder and freer than you’d heard in a long while. It was so genuine, so unburdened, that you felt your heart tighten.

He finally set her down, but she refused to let go of him, her small hands clutching his tunic as she leaned her head against his chest. He glanced at you, his breathing slightly uneven from the effort, his smile quieter now.

“Looks like I’ve been claimed,” he said, his voice laced with affection as he ruffled her silver hair. “Can’t say I mind.”

You chuckled softly, stepping closer. “You’ve always been her favorite.”

He raised an eyebrow, his eyes flicking to you with something sharper, something unspoken. “Am I?” he murmured, his gaze lingering on yours just a moment too long.

Before you could respond, your daughter tugged at his sleeve. “Again, Uncle Aegon!” she pleaded, looking up at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“Again?” he repeated, feigning exhaustion as he let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’ll be the death of me, little dragon.” But despite his words, he crouched down once more, letting her climb onto his back like a rider claiming a dragon.

“Ready?” he asked, glancing back at her.

“Fly, dragon, fly!” she declared, her small fists clinging to his tunic like reins.

With a grunt of effort and a laugh on his lips, Aegon straightened, carrying her on his back as he jogged around the garden, her squeals of joy trailing behind them.

You watched them, your heart swelling with something you couldn’t quite name. For once, everything felt… simple. No whispers. No stares. No burdens too heavy to carry. Just laughter, sunlight, and the sound of your daughter’s happiness echoing through the garden.

You and Aegon walked side by side through the corridors of the Red Keep, his arms steady as he carried your daughter. Her little hands clung to his collar as she leaned her head on his shoulder, her soft giggles filling the silent hall. You couldn’t help but smile, your gaze fixed on them — your heart lighter than it had been in days.

The faint echoes of whispers followed you. Maids glanced from behind pillars, guards exchanged quick looks, and noblewomen passing by slowed their steps, eyes lingering with curiosity and judgment. The weight of their stares was a familiar burden, but today, you chose to ignore it. Their words, their gossip, their assumptions — none of it mattered.

“Look at her,” Aegon chuckled, glancing at your daughter in his arms. “Falling asleep on me after all that excitement. Typical little dragon.”

“She knows where it’s safe,” you replied softly, your eyes shifting from your daughter’s peaceful face to his. He gave you a grin, one that was far too self-assured, as if he knew exactly what you meant.

His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, everything else fell away — the murmurs, the stares, the weight of expectation. It was just the three of you walking down a corridor that had once felt so suffocating but now seemed less so.

But not all eyes were so easily ignored.

From the shadows ahead, you felt it — the cold, sharp gaze of Aemond. His presence was unmistakable. He stood at the end of the corridor, his hands behind his back, his posture rigid. His one eye, the one that mattered, was locked on you. No — not just you. His gaze shifted to Aegon, to your daughter nestled against him, then back to you.

You felt the weight of his stare like a blade pressed against your back, sharp and unforgiving. It begged for your attention, demanded it. But you didn’t look at him. Not this time.

You tilted your chin higher, your smile never faltering as you turned back to Aegon. He noticed, of course. Aegon always noticed. His grin grew wider, bolder, as if daring Aemond to act.

“Don’t look back,” Aegon muttered low enough for only you to hear, his voice laced with quiet defiance. “He hates it when he’s ignored.”

You bit back a laugh, glancing up at him with a raised brow. “Good,” you whispered back.

With that, you continued forward, side by side with Aegon, ignoring the burn of Aemond’s gaze like it was nothing more than a chill in the air. And for the first time, you didn’t feel small. You felt seen.

As you walked past him, Aemond’s hand shot out and gripped your wrist with unyielding strength. You gasped, jerking back, but his grip was like iron.

“Aemond, let me go,” you hissed, twisting your arm, but it was useless. His one eye burned with something wild and furious.

“No.” His voice was low, dangerous, like the calm before a storm. He yanked you forward, pulling you along the corridor.

“Aemond!” Aegon’s voice echoed from behind, sharp and commanding. You glanced back, heart pounding, seeing Aegon striding toward you with purpose. “Let her go!”

Aemond didn’t stop. His fingers dug into your wrist, his pace steady and unrelenting. You stumbled to keep up with him, barely able to keep your footing. The cold stone walls of the Red Keep blurred as you moved past them.

“Aemond, stop!” you snapped, your voice sharp and defiant, but he didn’t even flinch. The guards and maids in the corridor turned away, their eyes averted, unwilling to intervene. No one ever did.

When you reached his chamber door, he shoved it open with one hand and dragged you inside. The door slammed shut behind you with a deafening thud, the finality of it making your chest tighten. He released you with a forceful push, and you stumbled back, clutching your wrist, your heart pounding like a drum.

Your breath was ragged, your eyes sharp with fury as you glared at him. “What is wrong with you?” you spat, your voice sharp with disbelief. “You have no right to—”

“No right?” Aemond’s voice was eerily calm, his words cutting like a blade. “I am your husband. I have every right.” He began to pace in front of you like a predator stalking its prey. His eye, sharp as ever, never left you.

“You are a fool if you think you still have that right,” you hissed, your eyes narrowing with defiance.

His head snapped toward you at that, his jaw tightening as his nostrils flared. “Careful,” he warned, his voice low and icy.

But you were done being careful. The weight of everything came crashing down on you. Your chest felt tight, but your resolve had never been stronger. You stepped forward, your voice unwavering as you met his furious gaze head-on.

“Don’t you dare talk to me about rights, Aemond,” you seethed, fists clenched at your sides. “Not after what I heard last night. You have no right to be angry. No right to drag me here like some possession. No right to demand anything from me — not after you crawled into her bed.”

Aemond froze.

The silence that followed was suffocating. The only sound in the room was the distant crackling of the fire. His face went still, too still, the flickering flames casting shadows that made him look almost inhuman.

He turned slowly, his gaze locked on you now with a dangerous intensity. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his voice tight and controlled.

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Don’t lie to me, Aemond. I heard you. Your voice. Her voice.” Your eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but you refused to let them fall. “I stood at the door, Aemond. I heard you.”

His eye flickered, his mask cracking for a split second before he composed himself. “It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice quieter now, but there was no apology in it. Only pride.

“Don’t insult me,” you bit back, your eyes stinging with the betrayal that burned in your chest. “Don’t stand there and pretend it meant nothing. Don’t stand there and act as if I’m blind. I am not her, Aemond. I never will be.” Your voice cracked on the last word, but you lifted your chin, defiance blazing in your eyes.

He took a step toward you, but you raised a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “No. You do not get to touch me. Not after this.”

He tilted his head, his eye narrowing as if studying you in a new light. His lips pressed into a thin line. “So this is why you’ve been running to Aegon?” he sneered, his voice low and cutting. “You think he’ll love you? You think he can give you what I can’t?”

“At least Aegon sees me,” you shot back, taking a step forward. Your breath was shallow, your heart racing, but you didn’t stop. “At least he doesn’t pretend I’m someone else when he touches me.”

Aemond’s face twisted into something raw, something dangerously close to pain. His hands curled into fists at his sides, his breathing heavy.

“He will ruin you,” Aemond said, his voice shaking with barely restrained rage. “He will ruin you, and you will come crawling back."

“Then I’ll ruin myself,” you whispered, your voice hoarse but unwavering. You stepped past him, your gaze fixed on the door. “But I will never crawl back to you.”

You didn’t look back as you walked away, your hands trembling but your heart steady. The heavy thud of the door echoed behind you, but it didn’t scare you this time. For the first time, you felt free.

It had been a month since the night that drove you further away from Aemond. The distance between you two had grown into an unspoken chasm. You no longer sought his gaze, and he no longer reached for you. Instead, you found solace in Aegon and your daughter. Aegon was always by your side — in the gardens, at meals, and even during the quiet hours of the night when the world outside seemed to forget you existed.

Your mother, Alicent, watched you closely. Her disapproving gaze followed you wherever you went. She didn’t need to say it aloud — her silence was louder than any scolding. Her subtle warnings were clear: Stop this behavior. Fall in line. Do your duty as a wife. But how could you, when your husband’s heart had never belonged to you?

Then the news came.

The whispers spread through the halls of the Red Keep like wildfire. Servants murmured it as they passed, and the nobles whispered it behind raised goblets of wine. Princess Helaena is with child.

Your heart clenched in your chest. You stopped breathing for a moment, and then it all clicked into place.

It wasn’t Aegon’s.

You knew it the second you heard it. Your blood ran cold, and your mind filled with images you had tried so hard to bury. The sounds you heard that night outside Helaena’s door, the low whispers, the soft creak of the bed, and the unmistakable voice of him. Aemond.

It had been him all along.

Aegon had been with you that night amd the night after, his arms around you, his voice reminding you that you were seen, that you were wanted. There was no doubt in your mind that the child Helaena carried was not Aegon’s. It was Aemond’s. Your husband. Your own husband had betrayed you in the most devastating way.

Rage, sadness, and something else — something colder — coiled in your chest. You always knew, didn’t you? Helaena had always been the one he adored. You had seen it at every family supper, every glance he cast her way, every moment he chose to sit beside her instead of you. He had always been hers. You had been nothing but a shadow of her, a stand-in for what he truly desired.

The realization left you hollow. You could feel it gnawing at the edges of your mind. But this time, you refused to cry. You refused to let him break you again. Your gaze hardened, your breathing steadied, and you lifted your head.

If he wants her, he can have her.

But you would not be silent. You would not be small. You had your daughter. You had Aegon, and perhaps that was enough. Let them whisper. Let them stare. Let your mother scowl. You had already endured enough heartbreak to last a lifetime, and you would not give them the satisfaction of watching you shatter.

Not this time.

You walked hurriedly toward your husband’s chambers, your heart pounding in your chest. The cold stone floor of the Red Keep echoed beneath your feet, every step filled with purpose. Tonight, it ends. Tonight, we face the truth.

Reaching his door, you didn’t bother to knock. You pushed it open with enough force to make it creak loudly, the sound echoing through the room. The warm glow of the fire bathed everything in flickering amber light.

There he was.

Aemond sat by the fire, his long silver hair untied, cascading over his shoulders like a silk curtain. He looked different like this — younger, perhaps even vulnerable. His blue eye, the one that had always cut through you like a blade, was locked on the flames. The sapphire in his other eye socket shimmered faintly in the dim glow. He hadn’t bothered to wear his eye patch tonight.

He didn’t flinch. He didn’t turn to face you. He knew you were there. He always knows when you’re there.

“Have you come to accuse me again?” His voice was low, dangerous, but there was something brittle beneath it. “Or is it more of your petty rebellion for everyone to see?”

His words were like arrows aimed at your heart, but you refused to let them hit their mark. You stepped further into the room, closing the door behind you with a soft but firm click.

“You know why I’m here, Aemond.” Your voice was steady, colder than the sea on a winter’s morning. “We are going to end this tonight. No more pretending.”

He let out a bitter laugh, tilting his head back to rest against the chair. His eye finally moved to you, sharp as ever, full of cold fire. “Pretending? Is that what you think I’ve been doing?” He leaned forward slowly, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together. His gaze never left you. “Careful, wife. You may not like the answers you receive.”

Your fists clenched at your sides, nails digging into your palms. He dares to play coy? After everything?

“I heard you that night, Aemond,” you said, each word like a stone thrown into a still pond. The silence that followed rippled with tension. “I heard you with her.”

He didn’t deny it.

He didn’t even blink.

Instead, he tilted his head to the side, regarding you with that same calculating stare he always gave his enemies on the battlefield.

“So, you’ve decided to play the victim now?” he said, his tone sharp and mocking. “You, who spent your nights in Aegon’s arms while our daughter slept alone?” His voice was louder now, filled with venom. “Do you think I don’t hear the whispers? Do you think I don’t see the marks he leaves on you?”

Your breath caught in your chest, but you didn’t let it show. You refused to be the one to break. Not this time.

“Don’t you dare twist this on me, Aemond,” you snapped, stepping forward, your eyes blazing with fury. “I did not betray you first.” You pointed at him, your voice growing louder, stronger. “I was yours. All of me was yours. I waited. I hoped. I endured. While you sat there, loving her.” Your voice cracked, but you didn’t care. “Do not speak to me of betrayal when you gave me nothing but scraps.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he said nothing. His fingers twitched like he was moments away from lashing out, but he held himself still.

“You are a fool,” he hissed. “You think love is something that is given freely, something that is owed to you. It is not. I gave you my name. I gave you a child.”

“You gave me nothing but pain!” you shot back, tears threatening to spill, but you refused to wipe them away. “You gave her everything, and you left me to rot.”

He stood then, slow and deliberate, his tall frame casting a long shadow over you as he approached. He stopped just before you, his gaze bearing down on you like the weight of a thousand swords.

“And yet,” he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous whisper, “you keep coming back.”

The words were like a blade to your chest. Your breath hitched, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. You looked up at him, eyes filled with all the hurt, all the rage, all the love that had twisted into something cruel and unrecognizable.

“Not anymore,” you said, voice hoarse but firm. “This is the last time, Aemond. You can have her, have all of her. I won’t fight for someone who never fought for me.”

His face remained a mask of stone, but his eye flickered with something. Regret? Doubt? You didn’t know, and you didn’t care.

You stepped back, heart pounding like a war drum. Your hands felt cold, but you didn’t let them shake. With one last glance at him, you turned toward the door.

“Don’t you dare to walk away from me,” he growled, his voice rough like thunder in the distance.

But you didn’t stop.

Not this time.

You reached for the door handle, and his voice came again, softer but no less sharp.

“If you leave now, you don’t come back.”

You froze for a moment, letting his words sink in. Slowly, you turned your head just enough to look at him from the corner of your eye. You met his gaze, unflinching, steady as the tide.

“I already left, Aemond,” you said quietly. “You just never noticed.”

And with that, you opened the door and walked away.

Before you could get far from his chamber, you heard the sharp, hurried sound of footsteps behind you. Your heart jumped into your throat, but you didn’t stop walking.

Then, a strong hand seized your wrist.

“Aemond—” you gasped, turning your head just as he yanked you back with enough force to make you stumble. Your back hit his chest, and his grip on your wrist tightened like an iron shackle.

“Let me go,” you hissed, twisting your arm to free yourself, but his hold didn’t budge. His fingers dug into your skin, firm but not painful — not yet.

“Not until you listen,” he growled, his breath warm against the side of your face. His voice was low, sharp, and dangerous, like a blade being drawn from its sheath. He pulled you back into his chamber, slamming the door shut behind him with his free hand.

“Listen?” you spat, yanking at his grip again. “I have done nothing but listen, Aemond! I listened to your silence. I listened to your lies. I listened when you let me hear you with her!” Your voice cracked with raw emotion, but you didn’t care.

He spun you around, and for a moment, you were face-to-face with him. His eye burned with barely restrained fury, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed into a thin, angry line.

“Say it,” he said through gritted teeth, his eye locked on yours with a heat so intense it could burn. “Say what you’re truly angry about.”

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill, but you refused to give him that satisfaction. “Don’t pretend you don’t know,” you bit out, chest heaving with barely restrained emotion.

“I want to hear you say it,” he demanded, his voice harder now, like steel striking steel. His eye flickered with something wild, something desperate. “Say it.”

“You want me to say it?” you shouted, slamming your free hand against his chest, though he didn’t flinch. “Fine. I’m angry because you chose her! Her! I was your wife! I am your wife! And you betrayed me!”

Your breath was ragged, each word like a piece of you breaking off, shattering on the stone floor.

“And you think I betrayed you first,” you whispered, voice cracking under the weight of it all. “But you left me long before I ever went to Aegon. You left me alone, Aemond. Alone.”

His face twisted, lips parting as if to argue, but no words came. For the first time, he looked lost. His grip on your wrist loosened just slightly, but he didn’t let you go.

“I never left you,” he said, his voice quiet but firm, as if that was supposed to be enough. As if words could undo everything.

“Liar,” you whispered, tears now falling freely. “If you didn’t leave me, why was I always alone?”

Silence. His face, his cold, perfect mask, cracked for just a moment. He opened his mouth, but nothing came. No excuses. No lies. Nothing.

His silence was louder than any confession.

You felt your heart break all over again.

“Let me go, Aemond,” you said quietly, not as a demand but as a plea. Your eyes, red with unshed tears, met his. “Please.”

His fingers hovered for a moment longer, as if unsure whether to hold on tighter or finally let go. Then, slowly, his hand slipped from your wrist. The warmth of his touch faded, replaced by the cold air of the room.

He didn’t stop you this time as you turned around.

He didn’t follow when you opened the door.

And he didn’t say a word when you walked away.

You ran toward your chamber, tears streaming down your face like an endless river. Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat louder than the last, fueled by a storm of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

Reaching your door, you shoved it open with trembling hands. The wood banged against the wall, but you didn’t care.

Then you stopped.

Your mother, was already there. She stood in the center of the room, her eyes immediately locking onto yours. Her expression shifted from calm patience to sharp concern the moment she saw your tear-streaked face and heaving chest.

“What’s wrong?” she asked urgently, stepping forward, her voice laced with worry. Her gaze scanned you from head to toe, searching for an injury or any sign of what might have happened.

Your chest heaved with a sob, and you didn’t hesitate. You threw yourself into her arms, wrapping yourself around her like a child seeking shelter from a storm. Her warmth enveloped you instantly. Her hands pressed firmly against your back, one of them cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.

“Mother,” you gasped between sobs, “he’s gone too far this time.”

Alicent stiffened at your words. Her arms remained around you, but you could feel the shift in her. Her breathing slowed, her posture grew more rigid.

“What did he do?” she asked softly, but there was no softness in her tone — only cold, sharp control. The same control she always used when the world demanded more from her than she could bear.

You shook your head against her shoulder, tears soaking into the fabric of her gown. “He—” your voice cracked, thick with emotion. “He betrayed me again, Mother. I heard him. I heard him with her.”

Alicent’s breath hitched, and her fingers stilled in your hair. Her jaw tensed against your temple, and for a moment, she didn’t speak. You felt it before you heard it — the cold, quiet fury settling into her frame.

“Helaena,” she muttered, her voice so low you barely caught it. Her grip on you tightened. “I warned him. I warned him.”

You pulled back slightly, wiping at your face with shaking hands. “He doesn’t care, Mother,” you said bitterly, eyes filled with pain and exhaustion. “No matter what I do, he always goes back to her.” Your voice broke again, and fresh tears welled in your eyes. “Am I not enough?”

“Don’t say that,” Alicent said firmly, cupping your face in her hands. She tilted your head up so you had no choice but to meet her gaze. Her eyes, filled with a mix of heartbreak and fierce protectiveness, bore into yours. “You are more than enough. Do you hear me?”

You nodded weakly, but doubt still clung to your heart like thorns.

Her gaze hardened, her lips pressed into a thin line. “If he cannot see it, then he is a fool,” she said with quiet conviction. “And I will not let my daughter be broken by a fool.”

Her words settled over you like a balm, momentarily easing the ache in your chest. Alicent pulled you back into her embrace, holding you tighter than before. For the first time in a long while, you felt like someone was on your side.

You continued to cry in your mother’s arms, your body trembling with the weight of everything you had endured. Her fingers stroked your hair in slow, soothing motions, the same way she had done when you were a child afraid of the dark. But this darkness was far more suffocating.

“I’m sorry,” Alicent whispered, her voice strained with guilt. She pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her hand resting firmly against your back. “I should have listened to you. I should have seen it.” Her voice cracked slightly. “I thought I was doing what was best for you, but I failed you.”

Her words only made you cry harder, the release of all your unspoken hurt pouring out at once. You clutched at her gown like it was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

“Tell me,” she said softly, voice steady but laced with desperation. She pulled back just enough to see your face, her eyes scanning yours with fierce determination. “Tell me what I can do to make it right. Anything, my sweet girl. Anything.”

You sniffled, wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks, and for a moment, you hesitated. The weight of the words you were about to speak hung heavy in the air. But you had thought about this for too long, dreamed of it too often to stop now. Your lips parted, and your voice, though hoarse from crying, came out clear and unwavering.

“End it,” you said, looking her directly in the eyes. “End my marriage to Aemond.”

Alicent’s eyes widened in shock. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she said nothing. Her gaze searched yours, as though hoping she had misunderstood. But there was no mistaking the resolve in your face.

“You want me to… annul your marriage?” she asked cautiously, as if testing the weight of the words on her tongue.

You nodded firmly, your eyes unyielding despite the tears still clinging to your lashes. “Yes,” you said, your voice stronger now. “I don’t want to be his wife anymore, Mother. I’ve given him everything, and he’s given me nothing but pain. He doesn’t love me. He never did.” Your eyes hardened, your jaw set. “And I won’t waste another day of my life waiting for him to see me.”

Alicent’s face twisted with conflict. She glanced away, her brows furrowed in deep thought. Annulment was not a simple thing, not for people of your station. It would bring scandal, whispers, and questions from every corner of the court. And yet, none of that seemed to matter to you anymore.

“I know it won’t be easy,” you said, your voice soft but firm. “But you asked me what you could do to make it right, Mother. This is how.”

Alicent’s eyes returned to yours. Her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes shining with the same fierce love and protection she’d always given her children. Slowly, she nodded.

“If this is what you truly want,” she said slowly, her voice heavy with certainty, “then I will make it so.”

Relief washed over you like a wave, and for the first time in so long, you felt as if you could breathe again. You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around her once more, your tears now a mixture of grief and hope.

“Thank you,” you whispered against her shoulder, your voice muffled but full of meaning. “Thank you, Mother.”

Alicent held you tighter, her resolve hardening like steel. “No one will hurt you again, my love,” she vowed softly. “Not him. Not anyone.”

You stood by the window, eyes distant as you gazed at the horizon. The cool breeze brushed against your face, carrying with it the faint scent of salt from Blackwater Bay. The world outside felt vast, free — a freedom you had been denied for far too long.

The creak of your chamber door broke the stillness. You didn’t turn, already knowing who it was. His footsteps were slow, deliberate, the soft thud of his boots on the stone floor echoing in the quiet room.

“Should I be worried?” Aegon’s voice came from behind you, light and teasing as always, but there was something gentler in his tone this time. “You look ready to fly away.”

You glanced over your shoulder at him. He stood there, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his head tilted slightly as he studied you. His violet eyes weren’t hazy with drink for once — they were sharp, clear, and focused entirely on you.

“I’m not flying anywhere,” you murmured, turning back toward the window. “Not yet.”

Aegon stepped further inside, closing the door behind him. His footsteps grew closer until he stood beside you, his gaze following yours out to the sea. The two of you stood in silence for a moment, the weight of everything unspoken hanging heavily in the air.

“Mother told me,” he said quietly, his eyes flickering toward you. “About the annulment.”

You stiffened slightly but didn’t look at him. “Did she?”

He nodded, leaning forward, his forearms resting on the windowsill. His gaze was distant now, his smile faint but knowing. “She did,” he said, his voice unusually serious. “About time, I’d say.”

A dry laugh escaped you, short and bitter. “It won’t be easy,” you muttered, your fingers lightly tracing the cool stone of the window ledge. “There will be questions. Judgments.”

“Let them judge,” Aegon replied, his tone sharp with defiance. “They’ve judged me my entire life, and I’m still here.” He turned his head to look at you, his eyes warmer now, his gaze steady and unwavering. “You’ll be here too.”

You finally looked at him, really looked at him. There was no mockery in his eyes, no smirk on his lips. Just quiet understanding. It was rare for him to be this sincere, but when he was, it struck you more deeply than you cared to admit.

“I’m tired, Aegon,” you confessed softly, your voice barely a whisper. “Tired of fighting. Tired of hurting.” Your gaze dropped to your hands, fingers clasped tightly in front of you. “I just want peace.”

Aegon reached out, his fingers gently brushing against yours before fully taking your hand in his. His grip was firm, grounding, but not forceful. He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against your temple.

“Then let me help you,” he said, his voice so low it was almost a plea. “Let me give you peace, even if it’s only for a little while.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You glanced up at him, and for a moment, all you could see was the boy he had once been — reckless, wild, but always searching for something more. He wasn’t perfect. Far from it. But he had always seen you.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned into him, letting his warmth seep into you. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting lightly on top of your head. For once, you didn’t feel the weight of the world on your shoulders.

For once, you felt safe.

You froze in his embrace, your breath hitching in your chest. The words hung in the air like a spell, heavy and inescapable.

“I love you,” Aegon whispered, his voice so soft it was almost lost in the quiet hum of the wind outside. “More than a brother should. More than I ever should.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, a wild, chaotic rhythm that drowned out every other sound. Slowly, you pulled back just enough to look up at him. His eyes — those sharp, tired violet eyes — were locked on you, unguarded in a way you had never seen before.

“Don’t,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “Don’t say things you can’t take back.”

“I won’t,” he replied without hesitation, his gaze unwavering. His hands remained on your waist, gentle but firm, as if afraid you might run. “I’ve held it back for too long. Lying to you, to myself, pretending it was just brotherly affection.” He shook his head, his lips curling into a bitter smile. “But I’m done pretending.”

You shook your head slowly, stepping back, but he didn’t let go of you completely. Your hands pressed against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing. “This is madness, Aegon,” you said, your voice cracking. “They already think the worst of me. If they knew about this—”

“Let them,” he cut in, his voice sharper this time, his eyes blazing with defiance. “They’ve called me worse. Drunk. Useless. A failure.” He took a step forward, closing the distance again, his face inches from yours. “But you — you’re mine. You always have been.”

Tears stung your eyes, a mix of anger, confusion, and something far more dangerous. “I’m not yours, Aegon,” you said, though your voice was weaker than you’d intended. “I belong to no one.”

His gaze softened, his hands sliding down to your wrists, holding them gently. “No,” he agreed, his forehead resting lightly against yours. “But if you ever wanted to be, I’d never let you doubt it. Not like him.”

You flinched, his words cutting deeper than any blade. He didn’t have to say Aemond’s name for you to know who he meant. The memory of betrayal burned fresh in your mind — the nights you had waited for Aemond, the cold emptiness of his absence, the hollow pain of knowing he had chosen someone else.

Aegon saw it all. He always had.

“I’m not him,” Aegon murmured, his voice breaking slightly. “I won’t leave you wanting.” His thumb brushed away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. “I won’t make you beg for love that’s already yours.”

You closed your eyes tightly, tears falling freely now. The weight of it all — the betrayal, the loneliness, the anger — came crashing down on you. But with it, there was something else, something you had tried so hard to deny.

Warmth. Safety. Him.

Your hands slowly unclenched against his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. Your breathing was shallow, uneven, your mind at war with your heart. For so long, you had fought to keep your dignity, your pride. But for once, you just wanted to feel loved.

You opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. He didn’t move, didn’t push. He just waited. No smirking. No taunting. Just him.

“Aegon…” you whispered, barely a breath.

“Say it,” he urged gently, his voice raw, desperate, yet patient. “Say you don’t want me, and I’ll walk away. I swear it.”

Silence filled the space between you, the only sound the unsteady beating of two hearts. Your lips parted, but no words came. Your hands slowly tightened in his tunic, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away.

You didn’t say it. You couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t true.

His eyes flickered with something between relief and disbelief, his breath shaky as if he had been holding it for far too long. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t.

And when his lips finally met yours, it wasn’t harsh or wild. It was soft, steady, and certain — a promise, not a demand. His hands cupped your face with the gentleness of someone holding something fragile and precious. You felt the heat of him, the certainty of him, and for once, you didn’t feel like you had to fight for it.

You just felt loved.

Days passed, and you remained in the quiet solitude of your chambers. The weight of everything — betrayal, heartbreak, and uncertainty — settled heavily on your heart. The walls felt both like a shield and a prison.

Your daughter’s laughter was the only light in your days. She would run into your room, her little feet pattering against the cold stone floor as she climbed onto your bed, babbling about butterflies, flowers, and whatever small adventure she’d had that morning. Her warmth reminded you that not everything was lost.

Sometimes, your mother would visit. Her presence was quieter now, less judgmental, as if she’d finally realized how much she had failed to see. She wouldn’t always speak, just sit beside you, her fingers brushing through your hair like she used to when you were a child. No words were needed in those moments.

And then, there was Aegon.

He came more often than anyone else. Sometimes he brought wine, other times small trinkets for your daughter. His visits were loud and unbothered, like a storm forcing its way into your still, quiet world. He would joke, tease, and try to make you laugh, though he rarely succeeded. But his persistence never wavered.

He never asked for anything. Never demanded. He just stayed.

But they never came.

Helaena never knocked on your door. Not even once. Perhaps it was guilt, or perhaps she simply didn’t care. Aemond’s absence, however, was a deeper wound. For a time, you had waited for the sound of his footsteps, the familiar thud of his boots against the stone. You hated yourself for it. Hated that part of you still wanted an explanation, an apology — anything.

But it never came.

Then, one morning, the whispers reached you. The servants spoke quietly as they passed your door. You overheard their hushed words about Aegon going to the Queen. Demanding that his marriage to Helaena be annulled.

“She’s with child,” one of them had said. “The Queen won’t allow it. It’s already too late.”

Your breath caught in your chest. You knew it wasn’t Aegon’s child. It couldn’t be. He had been with you. Every night, every moment since that fateful night, he had been with you.

The truth settled over you like a weight you couldn’t lift. It was Aemond’s.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your gown, nails digging into your palms. You thought you had buried that pain. You thought you had buried him. But hearing it spoken aloud, knowing that his betrayal had consequences beyond your own suffering — it shattered something inside you.

When Aegon arrived later that day, he found you standing by the window, staring out at the gardens below. Your expression was distant, hollow. He didn’t say anything at first, just leaned against the fire place, arms crossed, watching you quietly.

Aemond stood in the doorway, his chest rising and falling with sharp, controlled breaths. His single eye burned with fury, the flames of his rage barely contained. Behind him, your mother’s voice called his name, sharp with warning, but he didn’t move. His gaze was locked on you — on you and Aegon.

You rose slowly from your seat, your heartbeat thundering in your chest. Aegon remained seated, his eyes narrowing with lazy defiance as he tilted his head back, watching Aemond like one watches a beast deciding whether to lunge.

“Aemond,” your mother’s voice came again, firmer now, closer. “Don’t.”

But he didn’t listen. His gaze flickered to Aegon, his lip curling in disgust, then back to you. “So this is what you’ve become?” he hissed, his voice low but dangerous, like a snake coiling to strike. “Parading yourself like some… common whore in the arms of our brother?”

Your breath caught in your throat, rage and disbelief mixing into something sharp and searing. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

“You dare speak of shame to me?” you shot back, your voice trembling not with fear but with barely restrained fury. “After what you’ve done with her? After you betrayed me for Helaena?” You stepped forward, your eyes locked with his, daring him to deny it. “Don’t speak to me of dignity, Aemond. You lost the right to judge me.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, his eye narrowing to a slit. He took a step forward, his movements slow, predatory. “Helaena is the mother of my brother’s children,” he said coldly, each word measured like the swing of a blade. “She is my sister, my blood. I have only ever done my duty to her.”

“Duty?” you laughed bitterly, the sound sharp and hollow. “Is that what you call it now? Did duty drive you to her bed? Did duty make you hold her the way you never held me?” Your voice broke, and you hated it, hated the crack of vulnerability that slipped through. “Don’t speak to me of duty, Aemond.”

Behind him, Alicent stepped into view, her face pale with shock and shame. Her lips parted, but no words came out. She glanced between you and Aemond as if realizing, for the first time, the full weight of what had been broken.

“That’s enough,” your mother’s voice was hard, the voice of a queen. “Both of you.” She stepped between you and Aemond, placing a hand on his chest, forcing him to step back. “You have done enough damage, Aemond.” Her eyes met his with cold finality. “Leave.”

But he didn’t move. His gaze shifted, not to Alicent, but to you. His eye softened, his lips parting like he was about to say something — something important, something he hadn’t said before. But then his gaze shifted to Aegon.

Aegon, who hadn’t moved from his seat, watching it all with a calm, arrogant grin. Slowly, he raised his cup to Aemond in a silent toast, his eyes glinting with mischief and triumph.

That was it.

Aemond’s mask of control shattered.

With a snarl, he lunged toward Aegon, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him out of his seat. Aegon laughed, even as he was shoved against the wall, his grin unfaltering.

“Hit me, brother,” Aegon taunted, his voice low, his eyes wild with challenge. “Hit me like you want to. Hit me, and watch what happens next.”

“Stop it!” Alicent’s voice rang out, her hands trying to pull Aemond back, but he wouldn’t let go.

“Is this why you wanted your marriage annulled, brother?” Aemond growled through clenched teeth, his face inches from Aegon’s. “So you could claim her for yourself? She’s mine. Mine!”

You stepped forward, voice sharp and clear as steel. “I am not yours, Aemond. Not anymore.”

His grip on Aegon faltered for just a moment. Slowly, he turned his head to you, his breathing harsh and uneven. For a heartbeat, he looked at you not with rage, but with something closer to pain. His lips pressed into a hard line, and his eye searched yours like he was looking for something that had already been lost.

“No,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “You are mine. You have always been mine.”

Your heart twisted, but your resolve didn’t waver. You shook your head slowly, stepping back, putting distance between you.

“Not anymore,” you said, voice steady, final. “I belong to no one but myself.”

Aemond’s gaze flickered with something raw, something close to heartbreak. He looked to your mother, his eye silently pleading for her to stop you, to do something. But Alicent lowered her gaze, her fingers brushing her forehead like she carried the weight of every mistake that had led to this moment.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you pulled your hand from Aemond’s grip, but he caught it again, his fingers wrapping tightly around yours. His eye was wild, filled with something raw — desperation, regret, and anger all at once.

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking in a way you’d never heard before. “Don’t do this. Don’t leave me.” His fingers tightened around your wrist, and his breathing grew heavier. “I can fix it. I can fix everything."

You shook your head, your eyes filled with hurt, but your resolve did not waver. “It’s already done, Aemond,” you said, voice steady despite the storm in your heart. “The marriage is annulled. There’s nothing left to fix."

Aemond’s gaze flickered to your mother, searching her face for some sign that it wasn’t true. “Mother,” he breathed, his voice filled with disbelief. “Tell me it isn’t true. Tell me you wouldn’t do this to me.”

Alicent’s face was a mask of quiet sorrow. Her eyes, though filled with love, held none of the mercy he sought. “It is done, Aemond,” she said softly, her voice heavy with the weight of her choice. “I will not see her suffer any longer.”

The words struck him like a blade. His grip on your wrist faltered for a moment, but he didn’t let go. His eye darted back to you, filled with panic now, as if he were drowning and you were his only lifeline.

“No,” he muttered, shaking his head like he could deny the reality of it. “No, you’re mine. You promised me. You vowed before the gods.” His breathing grew shallow, his face twisted with something far too close to heartbreak. “You belong to me.”

Your chest ached, but not with love — with the weight of everything that had been broken. You took a breath and met his gaze with unwavering strength. “I belonged to you, Aemond. But not anymore.” You pulled your arm back, trying to free yourself from his grip, but his fingers only dug in deeper.

“Don’t do this,” he hissed, his voice low and filled with warning. “You don’t get to walk away from me. You are mine.”

“Let her go, brother,” Aegon’s voice cut through the tension, sharper than steel. He stepped forward, eyes locked on Aemond, his grin gone, his usual air of indifference replaced with quiet menace. “You’re making a fool of yourself.”

Aemond’s gaze flickered to Aegon, his face twisting with rage. “This is your doing, isn’t it?” he snarled, his grip on you tightening like a vice. “You’ve poisoned her against me.”

“You did that yourself,” Aegon shot back, his eyes narrowing. He moved closer, his steps slow but purposeful. “Let. Her. Go.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, his whole body tense as if he were a bowstring pulled too tight. His breathing was ragged, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might strike Aegon.

But then Alicent stepped between them, placing a firm hand on Aemond’s chest. “Enough,” she said with all the weight of a queen’s command. “Let her go, Aemond. This is over. Accept it with dignity, or I will see you escorted from this room by force.”

Aemond’s eye darted to Alicent, disbelief flickering across his face. “You would turn against me too?” he asked, his voice cracking with something far too close to a child’s plea for his mother’s love. “For her?”

Alicent’s face softened with sadness, but there was no doubt in her eyes. “For all of us, Aemond,” she said quietly. “Including you.”

His fingers loosened. Slowly, reluctantly, he let go of your wrist, his hand lingering for just a moment longer before falling away completely. He stared at his hand as if it had betrayed him. He turned on his heel, his strides slow but deliberate as he left the room. The heavy sound of the door slamming shut echoed in the silence that followed.

You rubbed your wrist where his grip had left a faint mark, your breathing shallow. Aegon stepped closer, his eyes scanning you with quiet concern. “Are you hurt?” he asked softly, his gaze falling to your wrist.

You shook your head, eyes still on the door. “No,” you whispered, your voice steady but drained of emotion. “Not anymore.”

Alicent stepped forward and cupped your cheek, her eyes filled with guilt and quiet pride. “You were brave,” she said softly, her thumb brushing your cheek. ��Braver than I ever was.”

You leaned into her touch for a moment, letting the warmth of her comfort wash over you. But then you straightened, your eyes hardening as you gazed toward the door where Aemond had disappeared.

“I’m done being afraid of him,” you said, your voice sharp as steel. “He can rage, he can threaten, but he will never control me again.”

Aegon’s smile returned, softer this time, tinged with something like pride. He stepped to your side, close enough for his arm to brush against yours. “Well said,” he murmured. “He won’t touch you again. Not while I’m here.”

For the first time in a long time, you believed it.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack

[dearharriet]

okay hello hi me again with a james potter request if u feel like it 🦌🦌 how about a drabble about reader calling james a pet name for the first time like baby or honey or something and he just melts on the spot and gives her the biggest lovesick puppy eyes ever and then begs her to always call him that and refuses to answer to james because ‘that’s baby to u!!!!!’ Or something<333 love u hope you’re well

ty for the request! <3 (wc: 495) fem!r

“It says we could use banana as a substitute for egg, did you know?”

You shuffle to James’ side as he pauses in the baking aisle, craning your neck to see his phone over the bulky shoulder blocking it.

“Oh yeah,” you hum, “I’ve seen that.”

James turns his wrinkled nose your way, a wink of amusement in his eyes.

“That cannot be good.”

Scanning the row of mixes beside the cart, you palm his side, his shirt soft and thin under your fingers.

“No, it’s kind of alright, actually.”

You blink back up at him, smiling, even when his big eyes bug even further under his glasses.

“You’ve tried it?”

Laughing, you encourage the cart forward again, and James with it.

“Can you see what we need next, please?” You croon. James’ eyes soften, and he looks back to the recipe page as he walks.

“Er, do we have baking powder?”

“Yes.”

He scrolls an inch further.

“Lemons?”

“I was thinking we’d just use that lemon juice in the fridge,” you say, shrugging.

“What?” James stops walking. “Baby, no.”

He steers the cart around, making a break for the produce section. “We are making these cupcakes right, my darling. I need all the best ingredients.”

You just laugh and trail after him. “It really won’t make a difference…”

As you catch up to him, James is hoisting a full netted pouch of lemons out of its sales basket.

“Jamie, we only need one,” you say, a bemused smile pulling at your lips. He looks to you, still holding the lemons up like a fresh catch.

“That’s quitter’s talk. We just need to make more cupcakes, s’all.”

He drops them in the cart, and then creeps toward you.

“Whatever you say, baby,” you tease.

James freezes before he can reach you. A slippery grin parts his lips, creasing around his eyes.

“What’d you call me?”

Flipping back through your words, you realize what you’ve said too late. In your mind, James and baby have been synonymous for a good few weeks now, you’ve just been trying to play it cool, and for good reason.

James will never let this go.

“I—” You huff, relenting. “Baby.”

In a split second James is around you, lemons forgotten in exchange for a snug embrace that warms your cheeks.

“James, we’re in public.”

“Who?” He asks, a grin pressed against your temple, and a strong hand between your shoulder blades.

Cushioning your chin on his chest, you look up at him. James has bigger heart eyes now than he did on your first date, which is saying a lot.

You know the two of you look painfully smitten, and that any passersby might be bothered by the PDA, but it’s hard to stifle your affection for James.

“Can you call me that more often?” He asks gently, so lovelorn that it nips your heart a little. “I really liked it.”

And how can you say no to that?

+

thank u for reading! xx

masterlist

[hy6erion]

YOU NEED VIK REQUESTS? I GOT YOU!

viktor's fingers <3 he has those pianist fingers, long and slender. gimme some viktor hands/fingers yappery <3 x reader or x jayce or whatever, you have the creative freedom!

Viktor’s hands. His fingers. God. Where to even start. They’re the kind of hands you notice immediately, whether he’s gesturing mid-sentence with all that dramatic, airy elegance or quietly adjusting a bolt in some intricate Hextech prototype. They move like they have a mind of their own. Not just graceful—precise. Every movement calculated, smooth, controlled, but there’s feeling in them too. Emotion where most people wouldn’t expect it.

Those long, deft fingers were made for delicate work—steady when he’s soldering a circuit, softer than air when he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You swear he could play the violin if he wanted to. Piano, too. That’s the first thing Jayce ever said about them—“He’s got pianist fingers,” in this offhanded way, half-teasing, half-intrigued, like he didn’t want to admit he’d been staring. But he had been. You caught him doing it again the next day. And the next.

And you don’t blame him. They’re so clean, almost unfairly elegant for someone who lives in a lab, but every now and then you’ll catch the little calluses—at the tips, around the knuckles. A contradiction, like everything else about him. Soft and hard. Cold and warm. Sharp and reverent.

He doesn’t touch you often—Viktor is careful like that. Thoughtful. But when he does, he touches like someone who thinks first. Someone who knows. His fingers trace more than just skin—they study you. Thumb sliding slow along your jaw, two fingers beneath your chin to tilt your face toward his, the lightest, ghost-soft drag of his knuckles down your arm when no one’s looking. Like he’s memorizing every inch of you in braille.

And when he touches Jayce? Holy hell. That’s when those hands go feral. It’s like they’ve been dying for something stronger. Gripping the back of Jayce’s neck when he’s annoyed with him. Dragging his nails lightly down his shoulder blades when he’s not. Pushing up under his shirt just to feel him. He’ll grip Jayce’s wrist in that sleek, silken vice-grip when he’s impatient, lean in close and press his fingers into the dip of his back like a claim. And Jayce just lets him. Melts for him. Smiles all stupid and dazed, like those clever, slender hands are the most addicting thing in the world. Because they are.

You’ve felt it too.

That hand slipping under your waistband, slowly, never rushing. Just fingertips at first, mapping you like an engineer, reading your body like a code he’s about to break open. His palm against your stomach, the metal of his brace cool and impersonal against the burn of his real skin. He’ll stroke the inside of your thigh with that maddening featherlight rhythm until you’re breathless—not to tease, but because he’s genuinely fascinated with how you react. He watches his fingers disappear between your legs like a scholar watching an experiment unfold. Eyes dark. Lips parted. Silent awe.

And Jayce? Jayce watches him. Watches those hands move like they’re possessed—deliberate, exact, always hitting every spot like he’s known your body for years. Sometimes he guides them. Sometimes he surrenders to them. Sometimes he grips Viktor’s wrist and groans into his neck while Viktor just smirks, his fingers buried in you or wrapped around Jayce’s cock like he’s doing something sacred.

Because to him? Maybe he is.

Viktor doesn’t use his hands the way other people do. They’re not just tools. They’re not just instruments. They’re extensions of his mind. His desires. His need to understand and shape and change. And when he lays them on you, it’s never casual. It’s never just about lust. It’s about study. Reverence. Possession. Love.

His fingers are everything. Elegant and obsessive. Curious and consuming.

And when they’re on you, you’re ruined for anyone else.

[2thestars-andbeyond]

Little Rabbit

Summary: Y/n is the youngest Archeron sister. While training with Rhysand, she winnows herself to the Autumn Court by mistake and finds someone she can't seem to get off her mind..

"Just close your eyes and try again." Rhysand told me, sternly. I'm sure he was getting pretty fed up with me and my training. Plus we'd been at this for a good three hours now. "Close your eyes and concentrate."

"That's what I've been doing Rhys! And its not working!" I took a deep breath trying not to lose my temper. "I just end up five feet from where i'm standing."

Winnowing was hard and learning how to use the power was draining. Taking a seat on a near by stump, I wiped away a stay tear that started to roll down my cheek.

"Winnowing is a power not all Fae have. It takes a good deal of concentration and strength. try again Y/N. Try to think of another spot in the woods."

All the woods looked the same. Every tree the same type of maple. Every blade of grass the same shade of green.

I rolled my eyes at Rhys. "I'm not sure why you have so much faith in me winnowing anyway. I'm obviously not that good at it so i'm not sure why it matters so much."

Rhys took a deep breath and ran his hand down his face. "Y/n, I know you can do this. Close your eyes and try again. Focus on the tree that Azriel is standing next to."

Az just nodded at me. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I always loved being in the woods especially during autumn. All the colors and cool breezes. Soon, in my minds eye, the tree behind the Shadow Singer had vibrant orange leaves and a cool breeze blew my hair. I ripped my eyes open.

"You've got to be kidding me." I whispered in disbelief. I had done it. I had finally winnowed, right into the Autumn Court...

"I knew that asshole was up to something" Rhysand had been trying for the past week to get me to winnow. I hope he's happy now.

"I know you can do it" I mocked my brother in law as I walked through the unfamiliar forest of Autumn. I knew it was a matter of time before Beron's sentries found me. Rhysands "I know you can do it" is probably going to get beheaded or whatever they do to trespassers in this Court.

I heard shuffling in the nearby bushes. I stopped so abruptly I almost fell. "Please don't be a bear or a wolf."

I let out a sigh of relief as a squirrel jetted out of the bush.

"Are you lost little rabbit?"

I whirled around and bumped right into a red haired male.

"Shit." I murmured under my breath, finding it hard to find my voice.

He smirked. "You are far from home. Don't worry. I already informed Rhysand."

I had never met this male before. So how did he know who I was? He took a step around means continued down the path.

"I do have to say that it is pretty impressive that you winnowed this far away from Night. nearly four courts away. Come. We will meet your high lord somewhere safe. Beron has eyes and ears everywhere. Sometimes I fear the creatures are on his side as well."

I ran to catch up with him. "Wait so you aren't going to turn me in?"

He chuckled. "Why would I do that? Hmm?" His amber eyes met mine.

His gaze was intense and nearly took my breath away. "I-it's just that i'm trespassing, correct? I was sure that would be punishable in such a cutthroat Court?"

"Oh, it is. Usually anyway, but I told Beron i'd check out the breech in the border."

We walked for what seemed like forever. Passing by tree after tree, all of them different it seemed, unlike the forest back home. Every tree different shades of Autumn colors. More vibrant than I had ever seen back in the night Court or the human lands for that matter. Before I knew it we had reached a clearing.

"Take my hand" The male told me. "Rhysand waits for you in the clearing."

I gave him a skeptical look, "Ahh. I don't see anything inside the clearing"

"Just trust me." He replied offering me his hand.

"How do I know I can trust you? I don't even know you."

"I would never let any harm come to you, Y/n." I gasped as he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into his chest. The smell of crackling fire and spice engulfed me as he winnowed us into the clearing.

Rhysand, Feyre and Az appeared before me. Azriel, noting how close the male held me, drew his knife.

"Calm down Shadow Singer, she is unharmed. Aren't you little rabbit?" He asked, bringing my chin up so that my eyes met his again.

Azriel growled. but the male let me go. Taking one more look at his face, I ran into my older sisters arms. "I'm okay. " I assured them.

"Thank you Eris for keeping her safe." Rhys stated.

"It is strange though. That she winnowed so far from home." Eris mused. "Makes one wonder what drew her to a court she had never stepper foot into." With that, he disappeared.

Shocked was an understatement. The male that had saved me was the Heir of Autumn. the male every one talks so much shit about. And all I could think about was how his warm hand felt wrapped around my wrist. How his finger had gently raised my chin, how his amber eyes seemed to darken as they bore into mine.

[beloveds-embrace]

)some graves love for graves enthusiasts like @nightunite & @grombs-blog <3 :3)

No one breathed too loudly in your court. You made sure of that.

The throne room was a thing of precision- cut glass chandeliers that dripped crystals like frozen tears, walls the color of spilled wine, and floors polished until they reflected the gleam of your wrath. Ministers spoke only when addressed, and courtiers knew better than to linger near the dais, and ladies flicked open their fans in practiced fashion so as not to raise your wrath and displeasure, for you were not kind nor were you warm, and you wore your reputation like a crown sharper than the one on your head.

But the moment the great doors creaked open and he entered, the air shifted.

Philip Graves walked with the quiet arrogance of a man who had never truly known fear- not the way others did. Shadows seemed to coil around his boots like old friends. He bowed as always- graceful, efficient, head low, almost theatrical- but those damned eyes found yours the moment he rose and a grin stretched across his face- even when yours curdled like milk.

“You’re late.” You said, voice cool enough to crack glass.

“Only by a few hours, Queen,” he replied, smiling just enough to test your patience. “And I brought you a gift.”

He held out a velvet pouch, and the court stiffened when the glint of a ring- plucked from some now-dead rebel prince-of-the-people, if you had to guess- shimmered inside. But it wasn’t the token that pleased you, for you had far more fancier rings and jewels.

It was him.

You leaned back, studying him like a particularly fine blade, and thus your finger curled to summon him close. “Come here.”

He obeyed, of course. Philip always obeyed you.

With a casualness that sent ripples of horror through the room, you pulled him to sit on the wide arm of your throne, letting one leg drape lazily over his lap. Your hand curled into his hair, tugging lightly- an unspoken warning and a familiar comfort. You felt him exhale, the only noise to be heard in the dead silence of the throne room.

This was your routine. A dance sharp as the knives he uses.

“My little pet,” you murmured, stroking his jaw with the back of your fingers, your cold rings brushing across his cheeks. “Did you make a mess?”

His lips curled, the barest echo of smug pride. “Nothing that can’t be cleaned up.”

You smiled, slow and dangerous. Ministers looked away. One of them- a particularly vocal noble from the southern isles- looked like he might be sick, but you didn’t care; you wanted them to see. Let them clutch their pearls and avert their eyes, for you and Philip were a sight unmatched.

Let them try to reconcile the brutal head of the infamous Shadow Group with the man now nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a favored pet.

They didn’t understand and they never would, because he was yours. Not just your assassin, not just your hound- yours. And no blade he carried was half as sharp as the softness he reserved only for you.

“You missed me, Queenie.” He said quietly, so only you could hear.

“I don’t miss things, much less belongings.” You replied, but your fingers still curled tighter into his shirt, digging like claws that would not let go.

Liar, he almost said. But he just smiled again for he fancied keeping his silver-tongue, eyes glinting like knives beneath silk.

The court watched, silent and stunned, as their cold, untouchable Queen cradled him with all the tenderness of someone holding a beloved cat.

Let them whisper and let them fear, for you had your throne and you had your blade.

And curled in your lap, purring like a devil in velvet, you had Philip Graves.

[cxvii666]

hanta sero - boyfriend headcanons:

- i think that out of all his friends, hanta definitely gets a girlfriend first and your relationship lasts the longest

- friends to lovers, will they won't they, everyone knows but them, because he's an idiot, he definitely fell first and fell harder,

- but once you're actually together, once you're his girlfriend, hanta never shuts up about you. "if my girl was here, she could-" "well my girl knows how to-" "my girl is so cool, she-"

- big fan of laying between your thighs after a smoke for a nap!!! you stopped getting high with hanta before watching movies because every time you guys smoke together he dozes off for hours and snores like a fucking tractor

- brings you EVERYWHERE. he's that one homeboy that's always like "can my girl come with us? 🥺"

like that one time when their friend group was going out for jirou's birthday. it was 'emo night' or something equally ridiculous at one of the clubs downtown. denki had suggested they all go for a laugh, free entry before 11pm, and if it was shit they could bounce. so hanta had been at mina's place pre-gaming when he'd gotten a very emoji filled text from his girlfriend. your two friends who are the worst with cancelling plans, had cancelled on you, again. hanta rolls his eyes at your dramatics but a soft smile tugs at his lips and he stops mid way through typing 'i told you so', when he sees the "idc bout that tho 😵🙄 i jus misss youuuu☹️🥹" from you. he doesn't even think twice before calling out to his friends.

"yo guys, can my girl come with?"

- likes when you yell at him. obviously he doesn't seriously piss you off on purpose, but you're easy to tease, and he knows all the right buttons to push. so why wouldn't he, 'forget' to pick up the shit you needed, and when you get all up in his face, fire burning in your eyes, as you cuss him out, yeah, it makes his dick twitch, just a little.

- you take him shopping with you all the time because he gives you his honest opinion on everything, regardless of whether you like it or not. he gets super up in your personal space and says the most ridiculously accurate bullshit right in your ear, " don't get the purple, you're gonna look like a grape", "you like this one? kinda smells like caca- ouch."

- always calling your phone!!!!! like this man does not let you breathe. and its always to talk about nothing.

"hanta, i'm at work?"

"are you not on break...? you just sent me a tiktok."

"that's not the point-"

"- well, i saw the cutest little cat earlier, reminded me of that cat we saw at...."

- he lets you bite him.

the first time you did it, you had no idea what came over you. you were both curled up on your couch, legs entwined, him little spooning, the side of your face resting on his left shoulder blade, both enraptured in whatever episode of rick and morty. and its like pure animal instinct when you lean down and gently bite the exposed area of his bicep. its less of a bite, more you just lightly sinking your teeth into your boyfriend's soft skin. but its enough to make him sit up slightly and angle his head towards you with narrow eyes. "freaky 'lil shit."

- ceo and founding father of the broke boyfriend pose. notice how i put pose, cos he does spoil you and most times you buy something, it's on his card, but the pose! yknow that one when the guy stands with his arms wrapped around his girl when she's paying for something.... yeah

- that's as far as blatant pda goes for him tho, i think he's more into handholding ORRR,,,, when you're out walking on the busy streets and you grab onto his bicep >>

- huge user of "nah missus says no" "wife's not letting me out, yknow how it is" and "my girl said i cant go" this is a hundred percent false btw!!! he's just too lazy to find a better excuse, and he'd rather spend his time with you

- hanta's a big fan of ordering for you, more because you hate it, unless you're getting boba, then he just stands awkwardly in the shop one hand resting on the small of your back, the other tapping away at some dumb mobile game, while you order for two

- also a big fan of "whatever you need baby." as in whatever,,,, not just material things or physically, maybe it's because he comes from a big family but he has this desire to provide for you, time, love, effort, emotional support, "y'know you can call me whenever." and he always picks up, drops everything.

like that one time, still a fresh month into your relationship, you had cancelled on your brunch date because your period had started and you felt ugly and in pain. and hanta dropped by later in the afternoon with your favourite takeout and some sweet treats and a blunt, when you almost bursted into tears, he had just opened his arms out and you both laid down on the couch to watch whatever shit reality tv you had been watching.

- speaking of tv, he's also big into watching shows together, so you've been going through your netflix list together. when you go to his on a thursday night and you watch the new ep of your anime together, and when he stays over at yours for the weekend you binge your other shows together

- calls you bro and dude sometimes gang

- randomly bursts into song

- randomly starts freestyling, "babe gimme a beat-"

[moonstruckme]

hiiiii mae. I was re-reading thawing out and I'm curious if you've ever considered writing about Sirius & reader getting Remus back out on the ice again? I feel like it has real cute and fluffy potential. love all that you do! <3

Thank you for requesting! I've been looking forward to this milestone for them for so long :')

Read the Thawing Out series here

cw: modern au, chronic pain references, some anxiety caused by traumatic events

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

It was your idea to do this outside of the rink. You notice things that Sirius doesn’t, and you’d noticed that as much as Remus feels at home with the boards and the bleachers and hum of the Zamboni, they intimidate him too. So, you’re taking advantage of a cold Saturday to utilize the outdoors. 

Sirius frowns, spinning an idle circle on his blade. “This ice is shit.” 

“You’re just spoiled,” you counter, still lacing up your skates with Remus. You’ve slowed your pace to match him, whereas Sirius had laced up quick as always and gone out into the small rink without a second thought. Another way you’re simply better than him. 

To his credit, Remus doesn’t seem to be stalling. He tried talking you both out of this on a couple of occasions, saying that it wasn’t worth your time, you were giving it more importance than it was due, etc., but now that he’s here he simply seems to be taking a methodical pace. Preparing himself. Sirius can grant him this, considering he hasn’t had skates on his feet since his injury nearly three years ago. 

“Would you call a swimmer picky for wanting a properly chlorinated pool?” 

“Yes.” 

Remus glances over at you, that particular smile he reserves for your obstinance gracing his lips. Sirius’ heart melts a little. 

“Then fine. I’m picky. Just be careful, both of you. I’m telling you, this ice is truly—” 

“I know how to skate on unsmoothed ice.” You cut him off with a look. There’s fondness buried beneath it, and Sirius narrows his eyes back playfully as you knot your laces and stand up. “So does Remus.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Remus jokes. He stands with you, though, letting you onto the ice first. 

Sirius can see the hesitance in your boyfriend now. That bit of nervousness Remus is trying to ignore. The awareness of it balls up tight and uncomfortable in his chest. 

“Awe,” Sirius croons with overdone patronage, skating to a stop a few feet away from the entrance, “are we not sure? We’ll do it like with the littles then, darling.” He bends and pats his knees, making a show of it. “Come on, come to me.” 

Remus snorts and sets one foot on the ice. “Piss off.” 

That one foot is all it takes. Remus pushes off with practiced ease, gliding into the rink. Sirius beams. 

You look equally as awestruck, your eyes so brimming with love and joy they almost hurt to look at. 

“Well, would you look at that,” Sirius says, “he does know how to skate on shit ice. Give us a spin, handsome.” 

“I’m not your show pony,” Remus says, but spins nonetheless. It’s simple, and yet so incredibly graceful. So obviously second nature. 

“Remus.” You seem to have given up any hope of trying to play it cool, your voice shining with barely repressed glee. “That was so perfect.” 

Remus is doing a similarly poor job of repressing his own smile, though he only tsks. “If either of you did a spin like that, I’d make you redo it three times and then add a jump so you didn’t embarrass yourselves.” 

Sirius crosses his arms, nodding. “Go on, then.” 

It’s clear that Remus is happy to do it. He’s cautious for a while, testing his own limits as he adds complexities and small jumps and tries out different variations. Ordinarily Sirius might worry for his hip, but Remus has been especially diligent in his stretching in preparation for just this; and whenever he seemed inclined to skip it, you or Sirius were there to pester him (lovingly, of course).

Sirius’ heart swells to the point of bursting at how beautiful Remus looks. His posture shifts to accommodate the new range of movement, his arms coming out almost unconsciously, with a dancer’s grace. Sirius is well used to the symphony of skates on ice, but Remus’ have their own melody, their own beat and cadence. Even his face changes, the tension fading from his expression until it’s at once relaxed and utterly present. Remus was made for this. 

You and Sirius don’t do anything but watch, rapt. After a while, Remus seems to get sick of his audience, coming to a reluctant stop. His cheeks are pink from the cold and exertion—Sirius wants to cover them with both hands and kiss him dizzy—but Remus’ expression shifts when he looks at you. 

He lets out a breathy, nervous chuckle. “Sweetheart…?” 

Sirius turns, and your lips are pressed together, your eyes bright. “Sorry,” you say, giving a wobbly smile, “you’re just—Remus, you’re so lovely.” 

“Oh, you sop.” Sirius curls an arm around you, kissing your head. “Stop that.” 

“I’m sorry.” You laugh at yourself. Swipe away a tear that manages to escape. 

Sirius tuts. “Look what you’ve done,” he says to Remus, who appears caught between shock and fondness, his mouth hanging slightly open. “She’s completely right, you know. You’re too lovely; it’s torment for us both.” 

“You…” Remus shakes his head. He’s delightfully flushed now, nearly to the tips of his ears. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my idea to do this, though.” 

“No, but you sure do seem to be enjoying yourself now, don’t you? Come here.” 

To his surprise, Remus actually comes. Sirius is elated; rarely does he get to be this demanding with such gratifying results. 

He lets you go to take both of Remus' pink, hot cheeks in his hands, and plants a firm kiss on his lips. 

“Thank you,” he says, grinning. “Now, stop our poor girl’s crying by skating with her, please.” 

It’s not done before several kisses, but soon you and Remus are in the center of the rink, twining around each other like snowflakes in the wind. You and Sirius take turns teaching Remus the sorts of lifts and jumps he wouldn’t have learned in his solo career. Sirius can’t decide which he likes best; the up-close view of Remus’ face as the world whirls around them and Remus’ hand folds warmly around his, or getting to admire the two of you from the edge of the rink. He thinks more practice will be necessary to determine this. Much, much more practice. 

Sirius’ nose is near frozen by the time you decide to call it a day. Remus teases Sirius for his pinkened cheeks as though he’s not exactly the same, and you insist on buying hot chocolates for all three of you on the way home as though they’re going to let you. You walk out of the park with breaths puffing cold in front of you, three skating bags hanging from your shoulders.

[bettystonewell]

COUPLE THINGS #2

Putting You x Dean Winchester through everyday relationship stuff - 1300 words

Pasta and Pie

It’s a rare moment when you can cook in the bunker. Not just make a meal, but cook from scratch with fresh ingredients.

Pasta that’s not al dente after two minutes in the microwave, but the kind you put in a pot and boil. Nevermind it’s dried and came from the local grocer in a plastic bag that’s flakey and easy to break. It’s the thought that counts.

Yes, you bought tinned tomatoes, but you picked up some mushrooms and onions to counteract them. A carrot and a small zucchini like your mom used to do for you because both Winchesters need their vegetables. They’re growing boys, after all.

You’re just chopping them up fine for Dean and countering again with bacon and minced meat.

“Meat man,” you whisper with a grin and place everything at the ready. You reach under the steel bench for a bowl, and up top for a pan, swinging overhead. Stretch behind for a knife just as Dean walks in.

His hair still holds the water from his shower. It’s dishevelled, but it’s clean, free of monster guts.

“Feeling better?” you say as he pads over to you.

His bare feet slap on the polished floor as he crosses the room. “Yeah,” he croaks.

His fingers grip your waist. They shuck up your shirt. Palms smooth over your skin. Toned chest covered in a simple Henley reminds you Dean Winchester has a heart. He nips your jugular from behind, tugs on your chin, then demands a kiss from your lips.

“What’s all this?” he says, when he pulls away just enough. Breath touches your nose, fresh with mint, cooling and sweet.

“I told you I was making pasta. Got you pie for dessert, too.” You wink.

“Oh, yeah?” His hand finds your ass. Taps you once. Smooths the skin beneath through the soft material you wear.

There’s no need for stiff jeans or FBI gear when there’s snow days afoot. Rest and recuperation is key. Your bra was gone the second you got back from the store.

“What if I want you?” he husks. Plants another nibble below your ear and behind it.

Hmm. You hum. “Later.” You grab an onion and slide the wooden chopping board close.

The blade glides through the skin. Chops it clean in half, and you’re soon peeling and dicing the layers into sizable chunks.

“You’re going to cut yourself,” he says, and your knife hits the wood with a dull thud.

“What?”

“Just. Here.” Dean’s calloused grip pries the handle from you. Snatches the second half of the onion, and starts chopping with you in the middle. “See. You gotta keep your fingers clear of the blade.”

“I know that.” You just find it awkward.

Any retort you had gone as you watch on, however. His hands, steady. His glide smooth.

“Who taught you how to do that?” you say. You can’t recall him ever using onions on his Dean Deluxe’s. Just store-made patties, lettuce, cheese, tomato. Sauce.

His “Lisa” is quiet. His eyes stay on his hands as yours did, making quicker work of the vegetable than you ever could.

Your tongue pokes at your cheeks. Swipes up and down. He never mentions them, though you know of her and Ben, of course.

They were still together when you met the guys. At least Dean was trying to make it work. You saw what Crowley did to her. Saw the pain Dean felt when he let them go, and you picked up the pieces of a broken heart years later.

You’re left unsure whether to ask about her or pass the moment off and forget it, so “She teach you how to grate, too?”

You’re an idiot.

His, “Yeah,” crackles on the end.

He looks your way. Eyes almost amber in the bunker’s light. “Same principle.” His voice deepens, and he flashes a grin. “Keep the fingertips away from the sharp bits. Makes ‘em small enough to hide in the sauce.” He cocks a brow.

“A wise woman.”

“She is.” He nods. “Never fed me bacon, though.”

“No,” you exaggerate. Full of fake disgust. Eyes widen, but you can’t help the smile. “Guess she wanted to keep you ‘round.”

You shouldn’t have said that.

“And you don’t?” He squeezes your waist with his arm.

“It’s bacon!” You nudge him back with your hips. “If you don’t want it—”

“No, no, no. I never said that.” He drops the knife. His hand grips your wrist and turns you to him next. Pauses. “I want you ‘round.”

“Yeah?” Your grin widens. Even more so when he repeats you. Your hand finds its way to his chest.

It rises, heartbeat holds firm below the warmth of his body. He leans down and gives you another quick kiss. “Lisa was in my past. You know that.”

Your nod can only be curt when his lips still sway next to yours. Eyes flutter close, breath breathes him in. His soap, toothpaste, his musk. You’d never be able to describe it to anyone, but it’s the best in the world.

“I know,” you say. “I’m thankful for that.”

He pulls back. Blinks, pouts. His throat bobs up and down. The question of why plays on his features, his brow, the dimple just above his chin.

“She shaped you into who you are.” You pat his tummy. Palm thuds on the one too many burgers. The whiskey gut on a beer diet.

The worth he never gives himself credit for flashes through his eyes, and just as he’s about to pull you in and kiss you again, you open your mouth, and swoop in for the kill. “Now I’m gonna ruin it with more bacon.”

He takes another pause. His brows furrow, then relax when his grin pulls them down to squeeze his cheeks as his fingers squeeze you.

He leans in and ghosts your lips. “And I’m gonna ruin,” he starts and you’re breathless now, heart rate climbing fast, “that pie. Where is it?”

You snort first. He follows. You give him a soft smack, landing on his pectoral. It shakes beneath your palm as an airy snicker hisses past his front teeth. The bellow that comes next flitters through your ears and into your own chest, now warm like the bridge of your nose above it.

“Is it here?” Fingers creep under the elastic wrapped around your waist, spreading more warmth into your skin. You’d melt if it weren’t for his arm holding you upright. Your grip on the steel bench helps as his breath comes back to take yours again, interrupting the shake of your head.

You could stay like this for minutes, hours. Mould into and let him carry you away to the stars or some other poetic place bordering on lust and lecher, only he pulls back.

And though you’re partial to continuing, wanton for a different kind of feast, when he says, “Later?” gaze flicking down to the shelf below your chin? You nod with your eyes. Bite grazes your lower lip. Tongue rubs the upper. It’s a promise.

“So.” He clears his throat, lets you go. Puts his hands on his hips and scans the counter. “Want me to grate the other stuff?”

“If you like.” Your thumbs rub your fingertips, nails scratch your palm, willing your brain to think. For the high to subside enough to continue the task at hand.

“I’ll start on the mince,” you say and move to the fridge to get it. Heart in a flutter, making itself known in your chest. Mind aware of the tall hunter, grappling with the lid of the slicer that won’t quite fit. It’s a son-of-a-bitch, or so he says. Heaven help the carrot and zucchini that are about to face his wrath.

Heaven help you later.

This one is thanks to a poll I remember answering a couple of months ago, regarding which SPN character could chop an onion correctly. I voted for Rowena on account of the potion making she no doubt has experience in, but I can also imagine Dean commandeering a knife in this instance. Hoping to do a Sammy one next - Beth ❤️

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[littlemelanintales]

Aftercare

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, Soft!Bucky, cock drunk reader, after care, no smut

Your face was still mashed into the mattress beneath you. Ringlets voiding your full vision with the taste of salty sweat creeping past your huffing lips. You felt kisses placed on your hot shoulder blades and the curls being swiped from your face.

Your eyes were unfocused but centered on the lightly breezy curtains,

"Speak for me."

"Mmm." Was all you could let out. Bucky got up from the bed and crossed the hardwood to the adjacent bathroom. You could hear the sink running and the medicine cabinet open then shut again. The loud padding of his weight crossing the floor filled the otherwise virtually silent room.

He squatted to your eye level, bringing the cool towel to gently wipe the night from your brow.

Your breathing relaxed further, drinking in the sparkle in his eyes and the gentleness he has with you.

"There she is he said softly.

"Sit pretty for me, Baby. Can you do that?" You nod and slowly started to sit up and turn yourself over. Small squeaks and groans escaped your lips as the buildup in your triceps tensed up. You leaned back against the headboard, taking a deep breath. He started to bring the duvet up but you declined,

“ ‘m hot." He smiled, leaning in and placing a kiss to your forehead. Bucky grabbed the 2 Tylenol and glass of water from the night stand. He lifted the cup to your lips and placed his cold, hard index finger under your chin to guide your head with the water. You took and swallowed the medicine before resting your head back. He placed the cool towel on your forehead before standing,

"That needs to be empty before you go to sleep." he said behind him as we went back to the bathroom. He re-entered with another cloth in hand. He sat beside you and ran his hand up the length of your leg. You twitched when he reached her inner thigh and he left out an breathy laugh.

He gently separated your legs, lightly lifting it and placing himself on his stomach between them.

He leaned in and softly left open mouthed kisses to the insides of both your thighs. He closed his eyes and sighed at the smell of you; sweet left over arousal and sweat. When he opened them he was eye to eye with your sticky, wet pussy. The sight of your juices and his cum secreting from your used hole left him in a trance.

"Ohhh, Baby. You did so well for me," your heart rate started to increase just slightly, "the best girl I could ever have. So needy. So obedient. Drink your water, honey.

You brought the cup to your lips and Bucky brought the new warm cloth up from his side. He started with a single swipe. You arched your back at the sensation the courses through you. You placed the cup down, mesmerized by him.

"You made me feel so good. Did I make you feel

good?"

"Yes, Daddy," you said as you smiled down at him and ran your fingers through his hair. His grip on your left thigh tightened just a little bit, his body unwillingly notifying you that his heart skipped a beat.

He finished cleaning you up and got up from the bed. He pulled the duvet over you without asking this time. Bucky lifted the cup one last time and you happily drank the rest of it contents. He threw the towels in the hamper, grabbing a shirt from the dresser in the process. He walked back over to you and let you settle into your pjs.

He walked to his side and climbed in, immediately pulling you as close as possible. He left kisses on the back of your neck while he whispered about how he wants to spend the next day.

"I love you, YIN."

"I love you too."

seen this before? tumblr deleted my other account so i have to rebuild

[amphibiahawks321]

V and J with a WD!Reader that is basically Uzi brother

[Outside the bunker, Y/N ravaging through piles of rusted out metals, clearly trying to find a piece for something]

WDM!Reader : Oh come on! If the humans found out they were about to die at least go out putting some stuff in a crate! Groans...

V : Well well, someone's being short tempered then usual~

WDM!Reader : Huh?—Oof!

[V suddenly marches up to Y/N from behind with her wings out, pulling him close to her, Y/N clearly trying to balance himself from V's taller present as she placed her head on his shoulder]

WDM!Reader : Wha–!? V, Seriously! We already talked about personal space!

V : Awww, but that's so booring

[V tightens her grip on Y/N]

WDM!Reader : I swear you might as well have been programmed to be a cat rather than a murder drone cause–[V nuzzles onto Y/N]

WDM!Reader blushing : ......

[...Y/N starts petting her hair making her calmed down from giving Y/N an accidental death]

V : Aww, is that a–

WDM!Reader blushing : Shut up...

J : Sighs... Indecency...

[J who was standing on top of a lamp pole flies down, crossing her arms]

J : What... Are you even doing out here... Weren't you with your toaster of a sister and that idiot...

WDM!Reader : Pfftt, what Uzi and N? I left them alone, the atmosphere shifted and when I said shifted I meant Uzi trying to impress N with her aim using her rail gun

J : And you are here why?

WDM!Reader : I need some parts to complete my plasma blades but all I got was nothing but garbage parts to make an actual toaster!

[J Sighs, walks over and pauses for a moment]

J : Your hair's all messy...

WDM!Reader : Yeah, thanks, miss obvious, I've been ravaging through piles of metals for hours now–.....

[J hesitates before she reaches out and ruffles his hair]

J : ...Tch You're a mess..

[J mumbles, her tone is unusually soft but still trying to act cool as she looks away, clearly embarrassed]

WDM!Reader blushing : ...

WDM!Reader blushing : ...Did you just pet me?

[J's face blushing, quickly steps back]

J blushing : What!? No! I was criticizing your hair!

[V narrows her eyes at J]

V : Ohhhhh, All out of words J?

[J's eyes staring at V, her eyes widened and start smiling murderously at V]

J : V... Unlike you, I don’t go around clinging to people like some desperate stray...

[V's eyes and smile starts doing the same]

V : Haha, and unlike you, I don’t get all flustered over a little hair ruffling~

[J’s murderous smile twitches as she glares at V, who’s still hanging off Y/N like a smug cat... Y/N, caught in the middle of the growing tension and sighs]

WDM!Reader : Okay I swear if you two start trying to tear each other apart again I'm not letting you two drink oil from my neck again!

[Both immediately freezes, faltering from their murderous intent]

WDM!Reader : Good!

[Y/N quickly kiss V's lips and walks up to J and gave her a kiss on the lips leaving both murder drones speechless]

WDM!Reader : Now I would really appreciate it if you flying, murderous, super hot–murder drones of mine helped me find some parts I need to–....Oh crap you two are overheating–