#if she made drinks for everyone. but raven was just so insistent on seeing the process-- due to actual curiosity-- that she couldnt do it

[nicksolemnlyswears]

hi! i just saw the ask you answered about leaving aemond out and i giggled.

if i may offer an idea, what about if reader finds out where aemond goes to find comfort (the brothel) and is upset because she thought differently of him but maybe he confesses what he actually does there (tittie suckin and therapy) and she offers aemond her own comfort. maybe reader looks more like their mother and it's exactly what aemond wants/needs. he's such a broken boy with horrible mommy issues.

this is not me at all telling you that you NEED to write a fic about this. i just had this idea jumbled around in my head and i don't know how to write it myself. 😂

thank you for your fics. they are truly wonderful. 💜

pairing: aemond targaryen x hightower!reader

word count: ~8.3k

warnings: 18+, cursing, spoilers of s2 of hotd, talks about brothels and prostitutes, fingering, p in v, lactation (milk play? i don't even know what i did), nipple play, slight mommy kink (or a lot depending how you see it), talks of infidelity, slight somno, riding

a/n: it's funny that this ask was sent cause i had something similar in mind. so this came super easily to me. i added some fire to the reader cause after ep 4 of hotd i was so angry at aemond (and still am). i can't believe he did that to aegon (he's my boy of the season) not to mention what he did to queen meleys and queen rhaenys. i'm not sure if i'd be able to forgive him. @heybank i hope this is somewhat like what you had in mind!

it came out a little longer than expect but nonetheless i hope you all enjoy! also aemond is stubborn in this fic but an equally stubborn reader and i love her for it. the reader and aegon are lowkey besties because i only want the best for him lol so don't mind that. i am ecstatic for the next episode and see the fall out of ep 4.

do you know the struggle i had to find aemond's whore's name. omg most difficult part of this oneshot.

after this fic i think i need to go to church and confess. i'm sure the priest will douse me in holy water and make me pray a hundred holy marys or something.

enjoy!!

It slipped out in the midst of their endless teasing and banter. The one secret Aemond never wished for you to find out. You're strong enough to know about the others; you recognize who he truly is at his core: an ambitious, envious man, but this one secret? This one he prayed you never knew about.

Aegon and you had been indulging in the sweet wine imported from High Garden. A delicacy that made your head fuzzy and your body loose. After finding you strolling all alone through the gardens, he insisted on drinking with you. If someone were to appease him by complaining about matters of the council, it would be you.

Those meetings drag on for hours on end on multiple occasions during the day as ravens fly in to share news of the brewing war. It robs you of your husband's attention and robs Aegon of his will to live as they tell him what to do and say, completely ignoring any input he might have��as idiotic as it may be.

You meet your distant cousin midway, complaining about how boring the meetings are and how uptight everyone is, including your husband. You offer the new King honest advice disguised as flippant comments, hoping he'll accept it even if he thinks of it as his own.

"It's not like I'm the only one who indulges in the pleasure of the street of silk. Every nobleman loves to get their cock wet by those whores," Aegon mumbles as a response to being reprimanded for his escapade late last night with his guards.

The charitable King paid for the villager's drinks and entertainment for the night. It was a prosperous night for the brothel. The 'ladies' will do just about anything to get coin. Who says the King doesn't aid his subordinates in need?

You stifle a laugh with the back of your hand and shake your head at him, "Yes, but you're the King now. It's not about laying with a commoner. It's about security. There are people who would do just about anything to gain Rhaenyra's favor, including hurting you, Aegon…"

Reasoning with Aegon is a challenge. His mind spins in ways you will never comprehend, but you try to keep your cousin safe while appeasing the council.

If Aegon values something, it's his life. If he knows there is danger out there, he will hold back, even if it's for a night or two. Her duty as his friend is to keep reminding him of all the danger lurking in the dark corners of the silk street.

"I suppose you're right, dear cousin. Guess we'll have to bring them here," he laughs as he thinks of the pandemonium it will cause. "I'll have Thalia and Margery or perhaps Dorothy. Hell, why limit myself? I'm the King! The guards can have their pick of the lot, Aemond will have his old reliable, and Lord Lannister can have the beautiful Sarah."

Aegon tips his goblet, drinking the last drops of wine to quench his dry mouth, failing to notice his slip-up.

Aemond's name sends a burning chill down your spine, and your mouth turns to cotton as it dries up. As you repeat Aegon's words, your heart promises to break out of your ribcage. Surely, you misunderstood his words.

"Aemond's old reliable?" You laugh to keep Aegon at ease. Grabbing the pitcher of wine to fill both of your cups, urging him to drink more and get his tongue looser. He won't remember your interrogation by morning.

"Ah yes, the first woman he fucked. Thanks to me, might I add. He still loves to visit her. I'd say her tits got him all enamored."

Just like the women in court, Aegon prattles on and on about everything he knows about Aemond and his whore. Including how he found him laying with her just last night—naked as the day he was born, blue sapphire glinting freely under the candlelight.

Blinding hot fury courses through your veins, lighting you up in flames from the inside out. Aegon will assume your reddening face and chest are from the wine and his vulgar words. There is no use in correcting him as you urge him to continue talking.

By night's end, you are equally as drunk as Aegon. The Guards escort you both to your respective chambers, watching amusedly how you argue with Aegon about whose dragon is strongest, Sunfyre or Dreamfyre. In reality, you were plotting which sibling would aid you in yelling dracarys in Aemond's direction.

You wish the alcohol would make you forget, but the sad truth is you will remember every single detail. The pounding headache you'll have in the morning will be a painful reminder of the secrets spilled over red wine.

For a fortnight, you sit and think about the valuable information Aegon shared with you. Anger burns ardently inside of you as it has nowhere to go. As a lady of the court, you're not allowed to train with the men, and as a Hightower, you have no dragon to channel that anger through.

If your fury were to be caused by any other reason, you'd find release in Aemond's arms. His aching cock stroking your drenched walls fervently. His sweaty skin sticking to yours. His fingers digging into your curves to find purchase. The low tone of his voice in your ear whispering words you'd never dare repeat and shamefully make you peak around him.

The thought makes you sick. How many times has he fucked her in such a way? Is it different? Does he let go and fuck her harder as he's not afraid she'll break?

Thinking is your worst enemy. As you imagine every possible scenario, your insecurities rise from their hiding spots. Does he love her? He laid bare with her; he must feel something if he allowed her to see him in such a vulnerable position.

The memory of the first time he took off his eyepatch in your presence pains you. So many conversations and stones of trust had to be set to get to that point, yet he did it with her. A common whore that dares ask for coin to please him with her presence.

You are different from the other ladies of the court who accept their husbands sleeping around with unknown women. You are jealous and territorial, something Aemond knew when you married. Under the eyes of the seven, he swore that his loyalties lay solely with you.

Alas, all men do is lie. Not even the noblest of men can be trusted. All you asked for was a good husband that would not embarrass you. How foolish of you to believe Aemond would be it.

Your fury grows and manifests as you observe Aemond and his whereabouts. It's hard to keep your anger at bay, but he's too busy plotting with Criston Cole to notice your withdrawing nature and emotional distance.

Visiting his quarters nearly every night tells you all you need to know. In that fortnight, you find him missing a multitude of times. There's no doubt he's in the brothel. Where else might he be deep into the night as the world sleeps?

When you ask about his location, the guards hesitate and stumble over their words. They try to save their necks by lying because the Prince continues to slip from their grasp time and time again. They are not as skillful at lying as your husband.

Having had enough, you wait for Aemond's return in his quarters. A goblet of wine is balanced between your fingers. The red liquid swirls along the rounded goblet, mimicking how your anger swirls around you.

You observe the map laid out on the wooden table. His plans are incredibly different from Aegon's. You pity the King as his most trusted advisor and Hand do as they please behind his back.

You've barely drank the wine. The goblet is merely a distraction from your fidgeting hands. You do not need the courage it provides; your anger fuels your intentions.

Old stone rumbles and sets behind you. Turning on your seat, you find Aemond emerging from one of Maegor's tunnels. This is how he sneaks out so damn easily.

"Wife," Aemond greets, keeping his composure, but his tense posture reveals shock. Your husband tends to wear a relaxed stance in your presence. You're the last person he expected to be waiting for him.

"Husband," you reply. The word is bitter on your tongue.

"What brings you in so late? You should be resting," Aemond speaks, taking off his cloak and approaching your seated figure.

Your eyes lazily move up to meet his. "Rest," you chuckle humorlessly. "I haven't been able to find rest in weeks."

"Does something ail you? Should I call a maester?" He asks, giving you a once over. Other than the dark circles around your eyes, there seems to be nothing out of place.

You're still you. Beautiful copper hair that easily identifies you as a Hightower flows down your back, and big brown eyes that resemble his mother's look back at him, although contempt has replaced the unconditional adoration that typically resides there.

His worry sickens you. His existence is an annoyance like a pebble in your shoe. You've harbored this anger for too long, and simple distaste can quickly transform into hate.

"Where were you?" You ask, raising an eyebrow. He's not going to get out of this. He must face the consequences of his actions. You will not live in bitterness while he runs around doing as he pleases.

"Conducting some business for the King." Aemond tilts his head, observing your posture and the set of your eyebrows. There's an electricity around you that shoots warning signs at him.

"Where. Were. You?"

"I'm afraid it is none of your business," Aemond says with a sharp exhale. He steps away to avoid your glaring gaze, unbuckling his sheath and setting it on one of the many desks that litter his room.

"I didn't realize we were keeping secrets from each other." The goblet's thud on the table is as loud as your unspoken fury. Wine splashes on the map like blood will spill in battle.

"There are always secrets. I have them. You have them," Aemond answers, leaning back on the desk.

Your hands smooth down the fabric of your dress as you stand. Finding his calculating gaze, you say, "So that's what you call your whore over at the silk street? A secret? I thought her name was Sylvi?"

Aemond freezes, and his muscles tense. You can't possibly know. He's entirely still as if the action would stop time and give him a chance to come up with an explanation, a lie. "I do not know what you speak of," the hesitancy of his voice unveils the cruel truth.

"Spare me the lies, and do not treat me like a naive maiden, Aemond. You know how much I loathe being made a fool," you snap loudly.

Aemond takes three long strides to reach you. Reacting, you take a step back but have nowhere to go. He doesn't touch you, but Aemond towers over you as he glares back. "Who told you? Was it Aegon?" He hisses.

"Please," you scoff. "The maids talk, the guards talk, husband. It was only a matter of time. Did you think I'd never find out? Are you truly that dense, Aemond?"

Your glare is sharp enough to cut him. He fell in love with that look when directed at others, but now that it's looking straight at him, he finds it's the one thing he might hate most.

All people around him have looked at him like that at some point. Aegon. Daemon. Jacaerys. Alicent. All except for his sweet sister and you, his beloved wife.

That look alone makes him regret stepping into the brothel many moons ago.

You should've never found out about Sylvi. It was meant to be a fleeting moment, but the war takes a toll on everyone, including Aemond.

Alicent's disapproving attitude towards him after Lucerys' incident led him to the whore more times than he can count as he sought the comfort Alicent never gave him and he craved.

"What is it that whore gives you that I do not?" You maintain eye contact as your chest presses against his. Your stubbornness will not let you back away from this argument. You deserve an answer.

You thought you were a good wife. Because of you, Aemond has two sons. You provided male heirs, a nobleman's dream. You warmed his bed whenever he asked and even when he didn't. You confided in him. You chose him.

"Talk, damn it. Your scheming plans won't get you out of this one," you yell, slamming your fists on his chest. Picking a fight is the only thing you have left. You want to scream at him until your voice turns raw.

"There is nothing to say. She's a quick fuck; that's all she is," Aemond seamlessly lies, grabbing your thundering fists. His thumb rubs over the back of your hands, hoping the calming gesture will tame your anger.

"A quick fuck? I could've been queen if I tolerated Aegon's quick fucks. The option was right there, and I chose you because I stupidly believed you'd make a better husband," you scream as your cheeks turn an unbelievable shade of red.

"Wife, please," Aemond pleads as you remind him.

The choice to wed you was not his to make. It was entirely yours. Each night, he prayed you'd choose to marry him. A woman of incredible smarts and hypnotizing beauty deserved to be with a man who acknowledged those attributes, not a blundering man like Aegon, who would only use her for her body.

"Do not touch me," you spit, tearing your wrists from his grasp and pushing him back with all the muster you could gather. "How dare you try to touch me after you've laid with her? After you fucked her? You repulse me."

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes as you spew your words. Aemond stands there, taking it all of your fury—he deserves it. What you hate the most is that he does nothing to defend himself, as if all of your words are the maddening truth.

"It was not my intention to hurt you," Aemond swallows as tears fall down your cheeks.

"These tears do not stem from hurt. They are from humiliation. You embarrassed me, Aemond. Do you know how many hours I've spent praising you in front of the other ladies of the court, speaking about how perfect of a husband you've been these past two years?"

Your pride might be bigger than his, and he's done the worst thing he could ever do— wound it. Such a prideful woman will only forgive him if there's a good enough reason and with lots of begging.

At his silence, you push past him and reach for the door. "I've made my duty as your wife and given you two sons. Do not expect more from me. Go to your little whore and see if she'll perform the wifely duties you asked from me." With one more glance towards your husband, you slam the door.

It is no mystery why Aemond is in a mood from that night forward. Guards stand straighter with him around, Aegon's so-called friends keep quiet, and Criston Cole bears the brunt of it all as Aemond calls him to spar. Each passing day becomes more brutal.

You have stayed true to your word and kept your distance from Aemond. You've never felt as far away from him as when you sit by him during meals. You no longer place your hand on his thigh when Aegon throws jabs at him or smile his way when he says something worth admiring.

If you must address him regarding the children, you do so but with a straight face and without awaiting his answer. The Red Keep has turned grey as you no longer pull him through the halls between duties to find a dark corner to kiss or touch him. Fleeting moments he truly cherished.

He's losing you, and he doesn't know what to do to fix it. He's sure that you will never look at him the same if he comes clean with the truth. It will burn whatever thread is left of your marriage.

"Aemond, what's the matter?" Alicent asks. They're in her quarters discussing one of the many plans to prepare for war, and yet he's not paying attention.

"Nothing," he says softly, eyeing the map in front of him. We should send our men to the east."

Alicent tilts her head and sits across from him, studying him closely. "Is this about your wife?"

The glint the young Hightower carries is missing. Her constant search for Aemond throughout the day has ceased abruptly, startling Alicent and Helaena. She rarely mentions him, only speaking about him when asked, and even then, her words have bite.

Alicen believed her son could do no wrong regarding his wife. Aemond adored you. He pinned after you from the moment it was announced that you were searching for a husband.

Alicent was hesitant at first. Marrying inside the family was a queer Targaryen custom, not a Hightower one, yet Otto insisted. Another Hightower in the Red Keep meant more power. He pushed you to marry Aegon while Aemond asked Alicent to consider him instead. She left it in your hands. It was only fair that you made the choice of who you shared your life with.

Aemond is silent momentarily, "She's upset with me." His words are short as he avoids talking about the subject.

"What did you do?" Alicent sighs disappointedly, leaning back on her chair. Why must her sons ruin all good things in their lives?

Alicent's reaction causes him to close back up just as quickly. Yes, it is his fault, but his mother's lack of faith is disheartening. Once upon a time, Aemond would've confided in his mother, but recent events have severed that trust. "My marital problems are none of your concern."

"Then how am I to help you fix this?" She asks in a knowing tone. Alicent feels the weight of her house on her shoulders. She's responsible for keeping everything together.

"I don't recall asking for your help, mother." Aemond ignores her judging eyes, moving the metal pieces around the map. He was here to make war plans, not talk about his feelings.

"Very well," Alicent clears her throat, moving farther away from her son. The gods are punishing as each one of her children drift away from her.

Unlike Aemond's mother, you take your duty as a mother quite seriously. Your children are all you have, and you cherish them equally. You refused a wet nurse when you birthed your first, and when the second followed a year after, you proceeded to do the same.

Feeding them from your breast brings a wave of emotion that is impossible to describe. The bond that forms between mother and child is strengthened by this natural action. Why do the other ladies in court not do the same? All they do is gossip and indulge in the luxuries of the keep. They have no responsibilities other than to please their husbands and care for their children.

The loud cries of your youngest filter through the door and echo throughout the halls of the keep. The babe has been incessantly crying for the past hour for no reason. Feeding and changing his nappy did nothing to ease his discomfort, leaving you overwhelmed. Nonetheless, you continue to soothe your child because if you didn't, what kind of mother would you be?

You ignore Aemond as he steps into your chambers, bouncing the eleven-month-old in your arms. He must've followed the cries. "There, there, Baelor," you coo, placing your hand on the back of his head, brushing through the thin strands of pale silver hair.

The babe continues to sniffle and release weak cries. The poor thing is exhausted yet refuses to sleep. He hangs onto his mother's dress and hair, opening and closing his chubby fist.

Aemond approaches you, extending his hands to take him from you, "May I?"

You cannot refuse him. Baelor is his son, and while he seeks the pleasure of common whores you know he adores his sons.

Baelor is fuzzy and complains when he's taken away from your warm embrace, but he immediately settles in his father's hold when he recognizes him. The smell of Aemond's leather clothes offered him the comfort he was searching for.

Baelor missed his father.

"Clearly, you're his favorite," you murmur, settling down in the chaise that faces the fireplace. You're worse for wear. It's hard to find rest when questions remain unanswered, and you've lost the person you love most.

"Only till it's time to feed," Aemond says to lighten the mood between you.

You scoff, removing your jewelry and tossing it on the cushion beside you. "Great, I'm a glorified cow, only used to feed."

Aemond falters, his hold on his son tightening as he curls closer into Aemond's neck. Baelor's soft breaths tickle his neck. "That's not what I meant, wife."

You continue to stare into the fire as tears line your eyes. "I know," you whisper. It's been a difficult day.

Had you not been betrayed by Aemond, you would've sought his attention and spilled all the thoughts running through your mind so he could tell you you were being unreasonable.

He would reassure you that you're intelligent, beautiful, a wonderful mother, cunning, captivating, and a dream come to life.

You're punishing yourself. You decided to distance yourself, and came to the horrid realization that it is much harder than you bargained. You underestimated what three years of always being together would do to you.

Aemond catches on to your apprehension and puts a sleeping Baelor on the cradle the nursemaid left by your bed. He returns to your side and kneels on the floor right by your feet.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes for the first time since that night. It's been a long, difficult four weeks without you by his side. He misses all the little things you did for him.

All the check-ups throughout the day to make sure he's broken fast or slept well. Brushing his hair at night before he takes you to bed and shows you his gratitude. Your eyes meeting his across the room, suggesting he takes you elsewhere for a stolen private moment away from everyone else.

He misses you telling him about everything Baelor and Rhaegar got up to in the day and about every new milestone they hit, suggesting they are as healthy as they can be. He misses the late nights spent tangled together, talking about what the future holds for you both, the idea of having a baby girl for Rhaegar and Baelor to protect.

"What do you apologize for now?"

"For betraying your trust. I made an oath and broke it, and for that, I apologize. It is my biggest regret in life," Aemond says, reaching for your hand. "Please, forgive me."

"Then why do you continue to lie?" You whisper as a tear rolls down your cheeks.

"That's the only truth there is," Aemond whispers breathlessly. You give him a pitiful chuckle and tug your hand away from his despite wanting to hold onto it forever.

Your nose burns as more tears spill from your eyes. Insecurity wrapping you in its arms. "Please, do not lie. Why do you want me to believe you went to the brothel for a fleeting pleasure when I have always been here? Am I not good enough for you?"

Your anger has simmered down to a smoky sadness that envelops you. Aemond is lying to you when you're the person he's supposed to trust the most. If there is a chance of rebuilding this marriage, he must tell you the truth, even if it ruins you.

"Gods, you are everything I wanted and more, my sweet wife," Aemond speaks, cupping your face to wipe away your salty tears.

He's at a loss. He's hurt you, but the pain can be remedied if he speaks the truth. How can he allow you to believe you're not enough when you're the perfect woman. His endeavors in the street of silk stem from his own damaged soul, never yours.

"I am afraid," Aemond confesses, brushing one last tear with the pad of his thumb before he retreats his hands. You stare back at him, puzzled. "It is not what you believe. I have not laid with another woman since I married you."

"Then what is it, Aemond? Because my mind has conjured up the worst of scenarios."

"You will not think of me the same," he says, ashamed, hanging his head to avoid your hurt gaze.

"Is that such a bad thing?" You ask aloud, and without awaiting his response, you continue to speak, "Until you work up the courage to tell me the truth, things will remain the same. No matter how much it hurts."

Standing, you leave Aemond kneeling on the floor to prepare for sleep. You glance over your shoulder and watch Aemond stare deep into the fire. When you step out of the privacy screen, he's gone.

It takes another week of agony for Aemond to come to a decision. He cannot bear having you so close yet so far away. He misses you and greatly underestimates how much happier you make him.

He hasn't been to the brothel since the night you confronted him. He barely spares it a thought nowadays. You are the only person wreaking havoc in his head.

He fucked up his marriage, and now he has to pay his dues, even if it means coming clean about his intentions with Sylvi. It was barely sexual, he hasn't fucked her since he married you, but he couldn't let go of the comfort she provided, and Alicent withdrew.

He's smart enough to know it's a farce. The women in the brothel will do just about anything if it means they are paid. But Aemond deluded himself into believing Sylvi cared about what he had to say and told her things he hadn't spoken to anyone else. She played the part well, giving advice freely and reassuring him with soft touches and softer words.

When the guard opens the door to Aemond's chambers, allowing you to enter, he instantly stands, approaching you to ask for your hand and kiss the back of it.

You raise an eyebrow at him but allow him nonetheless. The press of his lips to your skin sends a spark up your arm and down your spine.

"Wife," he greets, guiding you to sit.

"Aemond," you reply, not quite giving in to his sweet actions. Aemond summoned you with the promise of the truth. That is why you're here.

"How does the day find you?"

"Aemond, please," you plead. You came for the truth, and niceties won't do anything to soften the brunt of his words. Prolonging this won't help anyone.

"Very well," Aemond sighs, gesturing you to sit. His hands remain on his lap where he opens and closes them anxiously. "I met her when I was three and ten. Aegon forced me to the brothel because he thought it was time I…became a man."

You dare not speak as Aemond justifies his actions. You need to know the truth before your nerves consume you.

This is the tricky part of his story. After a brief pause, he clears his throat and continues, "She was far older than I was and offered something I lacked in the Keep. Comfort, solace, familiarity, whatever you want to call it. I continued to visit her throughout my youth, although it wasn't always to find release rather than someone to listen and give me what my mother never could."

Aemond avoids looking at you, afraid of what he might find written on your face. Perhaps disgust, shame, or disapproval.

He owed you the truth, so he spoke about all the details of this affair. How he liked the intimacy of lying naked with Sylvi, suckling at her breast. How she would hold him in her arms and touch him. The advice she would offer. The things they spoke about. How he rejects her when she makes any advances, thinking that's what he wants. He admits that he is completely vulnerable and free for those hours because she will have his side no matter what he says.

"Do you have feelings for her?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. It's terrifying to think he might harbor feelings for her. Such intimate acts easily allow feelings to infiltrate one's being. "Aemond, look at me."

Hesitantly, Aemond meets your eyes. Your face is blank, devoid of emotion that may indicate what you now think of him.

"No, and I never will," Aemond says, swallowing the lump in his throat. He chooses his words carefully, "She was an escape, someone to listen to the tragedy that was my life. She knew what I wanted and gave it unsolicited. I know it is not real, wife, but I was foolish enough to seek more."

The emotion that surfaces in your face is not directed at him; instead, it reflects the insecurities you have about yourself. "Did you not think I could give you what she did and actually mean it?"

Insecurities of his own rise up and make themselves shown, "I thought you would see me as a weaker man."

You're both so young with so much to learn, yet if there is one thing you're certain about, it's the love you share. That love would never make you see Aemond as weak; it would transform that quality he refers to as weak into something totally different and positive.

"You are not weak but a fool," you shake your head, reaching for him. It is your turn to cup his face to force him to focus only on you. "I know of those feelings you hide firmly, Aemond. I spent most of my childhood here in King's Landing. I watched while Aegon and the Strong boys teased you. I was here when you returned from Driftmark without an eye. I heard your cries of pain. You come off as this stoic man to everyone else, the fierce Aemond, but I know the real you."

"I am ashamed." Aemond is truthful. No more lies weight his beating heart.

"Do you swear to never look for her again? That you will come to me instead?"

"I swear it by the old gods and the new. I swear it by the seven. I swear it by my life," Aemond promises. "Will you return to me, wife?" He asks hopefully, placing his hands over yours, afraid your touch will leave him.

"Yes, husband," you nod, pressing your forehead against his.

Your lips find his as the last word you speak is uttered. It's been far too long, and his dragon blood is calling for you. Aemond is quick to react, moving his lips desperately against yours and pulling you to his lap.

He comes to you late at night once there are no more council calls or responsibilities to tend to. It's around that time when he has nothing to busy himself with, and the ache in his chest makes itself known.

It's a constant reminder that he is far from invincible. Pain and hurt live within him, ready to resurface at the most unexpected times.

"Husband." You greet him with a bright smile when he steps into your chambers.

"Wife," he speaks quietly, standing uncomfortably by your door. While he's agreed to come to you in his times of need, Aemond is unsure how to approach the situation.

"What is the matter?" A pout adorns your lips as you walk over to him. It's genuine concern.

Aemond stiffens when you approach him, tilting your head to assess him. You wrap your arms around his waist, searching for his gaze.

"Aemond?" You call to him softly.

"Please," he whispers with shaking hands that he places on your hips. The expensive material of your night shift is soft against his palms.

The tone of his voice and the reserved behavior tell you what he's asking for. You nod wordlessly and grab his hand, guiding him to your bed.

This is unlike those moments when passion takes over and desperate need forces you to tug and tear his clothes away. With patience and delicate fingers, you calmly help him undress.

Unbuckling the clasps of his leather doublet, you slide it down his arms and throw it to the side. The tunic that covers his chest comes off next, exposing the strong panels of his abdomen and the ropes of muscle of his arms. All a result of his extensive training.

Featherlight touches to his skin make his breath hitch as they slide down to his breeches, where you agilely untie the laces. You don't meet his eyes as you do so, giving him some resemblance of modesty, but Aemond watches intently how you treat him with such care.

You gently push him to sit on the bed, where you kneel to take off his boots and socks. Aemond allows his breeches to fall to the ground, leaving him completely naked, except for the eyepatch he wears like armor.

It protects him from the disgusted expressions people shoot him with because of the deformity he acquired as a child.

It never stops hurting.

You've never been repulsed by his missing eye. On the contrary, you're fascinated by the scar and the sapphire embedded in the empty socket.

Reaching around his head, you unclasp the leather and place the eyepatch with the rest of his clothing. You offer him a delicate smile while placing your hand on his cheek, and he leans into it.

Your touch on his raised scar eases the pain.

Withdrawing from him, you tug in the lacing of your night shift and shrug it off your shoulders to uncover your body. You had promised to offer him the same care she did in that wretched place.

The bed is covered by pillows and blankets to protect you from the cold of the incoming winter, and you mentally thank the maids for preparing the fire before they left you to rest. You lie over the furs, extending your hand towards Aemond to welcome him in.

Aemond's timidness is present, but he pushes it to the side as he climbs onto the bed and settles across your lap. Your skin is soft and warm against his, and your soft curves, molded to accommodate his children, bring him comfort.

As you brush through his hair with your fingers, you gently untie the band holding half of his hair up. You massage the silver tresses, his scalp prickling from the release of tension. He hums quietly, enjoying the feeling of your fingers on his hair.

"What troubles you, my Prince?" You finally ask.

Aemond's head rests on your shoulder, his breath hitting your collarbones. One of your hands rests upon his back, drawing figures across the expanse of it, feeling every bump and curve of his spine and muscles. The other grasps his hand, pulling it to your lips to press a reassuring kiss to the palm of it.

"That title. Prince." He murmurs sadly, taking a deep breath.

That familiar scent of oils invades his senses. It's a smell he remembers from his childhood when Alicent still cared for him. In turn, his body relaxes, and he closes his eyes momentarily.

"It is a stepping stone in the hierarchy," you reply, recognizing what he implies. Aegon does not have what it takes to rule a kingdom, while Aemond years to sit on the throne.

Aemond reaches up to grasp at a strand of copper hair. The same shade as his mothers. He twists it around his finger while shifting to make himself more comfortable. "I thought all of my achievements would be more fruitful," he ponders.

It seems that ruling a kingdom falls on the eldest male heir, even if they are not fit to rule. Aegon sits on the throne, yet the rest of the council rules on his behalf. This puts the Targaryen name to shame; the fool barely speaks High Valyrian.

"Patience is key. Aegon shows no signs of changing. He will be his own downfall," you respond thoughtfully. You hate thinking about Aegon in such a way, but it's the truth. He wants to prove himself so badly but goes about it all the wrong way.

Copper hair leads to naked skin the same shade as his mother's, and for once, he can imagine himself in his mother's embrace. It brings tears to his eyes as he curls further into you, and his nose brushes against your skin.

With the pillows propping you up and Aemond curled on your lap, you press a kiss to the crown of his head. Your touch runs all over his skin, from his face to his feet.

Aemond continues to speak his mind, and you offer the perfect responses to his dilemmas, calming him when his emotions get the best of him and tears spill from his eyes.

He should've come to you sooner. You're a high-born lady who knows much more about life in court. There were always warning signs with Sylvi. She tried to manipulate him into thinking about the common folk and their ailments more than once. She would never understand that while House Targaryen is at war, there is no space to think about the well-being of its subordinates.

When silence ensues, Aemond allows himself to look up at you. You're serene as you hold him close to your body without an ounce of impatience. The resemblance to his mother is there, but he got something much better.

He got a woman who loves him unconditionally, flaws and all.

Lacing his fingers with yours, Aemond closes his eyes and melts further into your touch. You hug him close and whisper your affections. This is how it was always meant to be.

That night, Aemond sleeps in your chambers. It would be wrong for him to leave after you've treated him with such tenderness. You are no simple whore from the street of silk. You are his wife, and as such, you are meant to be treated with utmost respect. Something he had failed to do but no more.

Breathy whines, wake him before the sun rises. Recognizing your voice, he wakes, looking at his surroundings for any danger. When you whine once more, he glances over at you.

You squirm in your sleep, seemingly uncomfortable. Something bothers you, but your exhaustion prevents you from waking. One of your hands reaches for your chest, and another whine spills from your lips.

Aemond's eye is drawn to the action. He reaches for the sheet covering your body and pulls on it to find the cause of your discomfort. His breath hitches, and his cock aches.

Your breasts are swollen and tender from being filled to their capacity, causing beads of milk to leak from the stiff peaks of your nipples.

Aemond briefly remembers you mentioning how Baelor has been fuzzy lately, and Rhaegar is getting older and doesn't seek you as often for food, yet you continue to produce copious amounts of milk. He has been blessed with a perfect wife and an excellent mother who produces enough sustenance for his children.

Aemond's pointer finger traces a path down your neck to your left breast. They are calling to him as his finger follows the curve of your breast up to your puffy areola and tip of your nipple. A slight press to the taught skin prompts more fluid to leak down your sides, and you hiss in discomfort.

Bringing his finger up to his lips, he licks the whitish liquid. Perhaps it's a mistake, as he's left wanting more. Aemond uncovers the top half of your naked body and leans over your chest. With one look towards your beautiful face, he wraps his lips around the plush flesh of your breast.A surge of liquid fills his mouth.

You have the sweetest milk he has ever had the pleasure of tasting. Aemond moans at the saccharine taste. It is so much better than the farce he had in the brothel. This milk comes from his wife, who nurtures his healthy sons.

A loud, sultry moan spills from your lips as some of the pressure is alleviated. You're now between sleep and awareness. Your hand cradling the back of Aemond's head.

Aemond's cock is painfully hard as it presses against your thigh. He's been driven into a frenzy, your milk serving as an aphrodisiac. His hand brushes against your inner thigh to answer a rising question.

Careful fingers find your wet slit, proving his theory right. He's not the only depraved person in the room. Your body is responsive to him even in altered states of consciousness.

Your cunt is absolutely drenched, making it so easy for Aemond to push a finger in. It's enough to fully wake you from your slumber. "Ah, Aemond." You throw your head back in pleasure.

It takes you a second to take in the entirety of Aemond's actions. The pleasure coursing through you, overwhelming your senses. A loud moan tears through your throat at the realization that Aemond is not simply teasing your breasts. Aemond feasts on your aching tits.

"Have your fill, my prince," you beg as that ache in your chest is pleasingly soothed.

Aemond is eager and rough. The light stubble of his jaw sends a current of electricity down to your cunt where you clench around his fingers.

"My Aemond, good boy." He responds to the praise why sliding another finger into your tight cunny. The slick sound of your arousal accompanies the suckling of his lips.

You squeeze your other breast to alleviate the tightening discomfort and drops fall on your hand. Drawn to it, Aemond switches, and you squeal as his teeth scrape the sensitive skin of your nipple.

Aemond ruts into your thigh as he quickens the pace of his fingers intruding on your cunny to part through your walls. The vibration of his quiet moans stimulates your swollen peaks.

If this is not heaven, he doesn't wish for it.

Your fingers tangle in his silver hair when you arch your back to offer yourself to him. His eye meets your hooded gaze and sets himself to give you whatever you please. His thumb circles your pearl expertly, and he curls his digits to hit your spot more firmly.

You cry in pleasure with your hips, riding his fingers until you come with a shudder and his name on your lips. Your walls clamp down on his fingers hard enough it is hard for him to retrieve them.

Aemond rises from your chest and pinches your cheeks with his fingers that remain coated with your slick, prompting your mouth to open. A stream of your milk falls from his mouth to yours as he gives you a sweet taste.

You believe another orgasm rips through your body as his lips press against yours to share a sweet tasting kiss. His tongue invades your mouth, allowing you the pleasure of tasting yourself on his tongue.

"Please," you beg for him, spreading your legs wantonly.

One to indulge his wife in all pleasures, Aemond pulls you on top of him, "Take what you desire."

His cock is fully erect and begging for attention. The tip is swollen and flushed a deep pink as it leaks pre that beads down his shaft.

Aemond acknowledges you've reached your limit when his beautiful wife, who adores worshipping his cock on her knees, grabs his length and sinks onto him without a preamble.

"Go on, my love, you can take it," Aemond hisses as you try to lower yourself to take all of him. His hands grip your hips tightly, urging you on. He swears your walls continue to contract from your previous peak.

"Aemond, husband," you moan lewdly. Your hips tentatively begin bouncing on him, and your tits follow to Aemond's delight.

He's mesmerized by them and how they continue to leak. Aemond mouths one more aggressively, teasing your nipple with his tongue, nipping at the surrounding flesh to leave his mark. His hand massages the other, allowing droplets to fall down your abdomen and onto your cunt.

"My perfect wife, such a good mother," Aemond mutters, praising you, "Pretty tits always full and her cunny always wet."

You hold onto Aemond's strong shoulders, your nails leaving marks across his back. Your hips grind on him deliciously as your clit rubs against his pelvis.

"Aemond, please," you beg, quickening your pace. You're on the verge of yet another delicious peak. "I want another." You'll have as many as he wants as long as he treats you with this much attention.

Aemond kisses up your neck and growls in your ear, "I shall give you as many as you'd like."

Swiftly, he turns you so your back is to the bed. He hikes your thighs up around his waist and snaps his hips fiercely. You first the bedsheets around you as Aemond holds bruisingly against your hips and thighs.

He's close to his own peak as well. Aemond manages to hold back because of all the attention he's giving your tits, but his cock cannot take anymore, especially with how deliciously your walls wrap around him.

Aemond admires his perfect wife. Your hair fans out on the pillows, and your facial expression morphs into one of pure ecstasy as you come once more. Your breasts are less swollen, but your stiff peaks remain puffy and flushed from his attention. Your cunt chokes his cock, knowing exactly what it takes to please him.

His rhythmic thrusting begins to falter, so with a couple more jerks of his hips and a groan, he paints your insides white. "There we go, all for you."

"Thank you," you lilt, biting your lip at the sensation of being filled.

You giggle when he leans down to kiss all over your face, a laugh of his own reaching your ears.

The door creaking open wakes you up, bringing the sheets to your chest, you sit up. Aemond lets the bedsheet fall to his lap, ready to scold whoever dares interrupt his time with his wife.

A small blonde head peaks in, and a big grin unleashes on its lips when he sees his parents. Young Rhaegar toddles into the room, and his head is barely seen as he stands on the edge of the bed. His tiny hands try to grasp the edge, but he's still too small to get himself up.

Aemond reaches over to bring him up, pressing a kiss on his head, but Rhaegar happily crawls over Aemond and falls into your waiting arms.

Aemond's exposed sapphire earns no reaction. In fact, the eyepatch tends to catch his son's attention more. Aemond ensured that when his sons came into this world, he would greet them as he truly is.

You pepper kisses all over Rhaegar's face, and he giggles, squirming on your lap. While Baelor favored his father, Rhaegar was entirely yours. "What are you doing here, little dragon?" You ask him sweetly.

The nursemaid stepping through the open door answers your question, "Prince Aemond, Lady Hightower. My apologies, he scurried away before I could-"

"It is alright. You may leave us," Aemond says, waving his hand to dismiss her. The young girl bows her head, hiding her blushing cheeks, and scurries away without saying another word, aware of the compromising position of the Prince and his wife.

"My sweetest, why are you up so early?" You coo, threading your fingers through his messy hair that sticks up in all directions.

Rhaegar hides his face on your chest, mumbling, "Missed you."

You gasp dramatically, facing the young boy with a surprised expression. "You missed me? I missed you!" Your son laughs and presses a wet kiss to your cheek.

"What about me, little dragon?" Aemond asks, tickling his belly.

Rhaegar cutely shakes his head with a mischievous smile, squealing loudly when Aemond reaches for him and takes him into his own arms to tickle him.

"Mama!" Rhaegar's childlike laugh pierces the air as he asks for your help.

"You're going to get me in trouble," Aemond grumbles, playfully glaring at his son as he continues to tickle him.

"Mama!" Rhaegar repeats, pushing Aemond's hands away and waiting for you to scold Aemond or something.

You watch the interaction with a wide smile. It's nice to see Aemond this calm. "Give me back, my little dragon, or there are no more kisses for you," you threaten Aemond with a furrow of your eyebrows and a pout. Aemond abruptly stops and loosens his hold on the toddler.

Rhaegar laughs and throws himself in your arms, hugging your neck. His giggles never cease. Aemond winks at you and pulls you to lie on his chest.

"How about we go see Vhagar later?" Aemond asks Rhaegar who calmed down to a drowsy state. It's still very early for him to have been up. He must've had a bad dream.

"Sunfyre?" Rhaegar gasps, looking up at his father. Aemond rolls his eyes and nods. He guesses he can invite Aegon so his son can see the golden dragon.

"That's your favorite, isn't it?" You ask him amusedly, although you agree. Sunfyre is a beautiful dragon and much friendlier than Vhagar.

Rhaegar nods enthusiastically as he babbles about the pretty dragon. You lay with your back to Aemond's chest as he envelops you both with his arms.

At that moment, Aemond realizes he feels fulfilled with his little family by his side.

it was not part of the plan to let this oneshot be this long. there is something about the complexity of aemond's character that doesn't let me write something brief.

nonetheless this was a super fun oneshot to write. it took me the whole week because i was so busy but i had been thinking about it nonstop. i think i overdid it with the lactation part but oh well!

if you enjoyed this oneshot please don’t forget to like or comment (i accept aemond's sapphire, rhaenyra's crown, criston cole slander, emojis, words of encouragement, a lot of praise, virtual hugs and gushing about sunfyre and aegon) and if you want more of it feel free to let me know!

-nikki 🖤

[whisperiin]

hello!! do you have any domestic gray ravens hcs with skk reader? ✨✨

oh this is soooo ... i love this so much this is so cute ... well i definitely do now!!!! i think i got a little carried away so it got super long i'm sorry ... but i hope you enjoy!!

domestic gray ravens

content warnings: none

➸ It's common knowledge how devoted LUCIA is to Gray Raven, and this is true even in relative moments of peace between missions, too. She's a little awkward with it, but she wears her heart on her sleeve — just like how she wears the different scarves she bought in each of your favourite colours. It's actually really easy for her thoughts to return to you. Maybe she passed by a garden and got reminded of the plants Liv keeps, or saw a little malfunctioning robot and thought that Lee would be able to fix it in ten seconds flat, or caught a whiff of that food you said was your favourite — should she maybe get some for you...?

➸ She loves just spending time with everyone. Team dinners are a must for her! But... just let Liv handle the cooking. Lucia also seems like the type to make sure that you, Liv, and Lee all get to go to bed safe and sound, even if you haven't been doing anything except slacking off in the lounge — she'll walk everyone back to their rooms, or at the very least, ask you to send her a little message as soon as you get back.

➸ LEE has similar habits too, but he's just a little more awkward in showing he cares — not that he would ever admit as such. Just like Lucia, he feels just a bit more secure seeing for himself that you got back to your room unscathed. He also prides himself on being perceptive, and he has a tendency to fix problems you or the others might have before you notice them. Have you had trouble waking up lately? No worries, the little robot he gave you now alarms twice as loud!

➸ Lee also made it a point to remember your routines. He has a habit of scolding you if you stay up later than usual, or sighing in that disappointed way he does if you forget to eat a meal. He'll usually go off on some tangent about how a Commandant should be more disciplined than that, but if he's being honest, he just wants to make sure you're healthy. Humans are fragile compared to constructs, he would often say to you, and to Liv and Lucia, We need to maintain our performance, don't we? But that doesn't explain how involved he gets even in little things like double checking everyone's weapons to make sure they're absolutely fine, or even just walking just a bit closer to you if he sees you're uncomfortable or uneasy in any way.

➸ Caring for everyone almost comes as second nature to LIV, even if you or the others would fuss over how she has to care for herself, too. Honestly, she just loves when she's able to help you all in some way — the smiles on your faces and your heartfelt thanks are enough to put a spring in her step for a good while. She also likes messaging everyone little good morning or good night greetings, just to say hello or wish you sweet dreams even if she's already done so in person. Aside from that, she's usually the first to notice when one of you is upset. Maybe your shoulders are a bit more tense than normal, or you're glaring unusually hard at a random spot on the floor. At times like these, she'll gently pluck whatever you might have in your hands away, or lightly put a hand on your shoulder, and insist you get some rest with a smile — she'll even get you something warm to drink to calm you down; how about that?

➸ Liv has memorised everyone's favourite things by now, like whether you prefer coffee or tea or neither, which table at the cafe you all tend to sit at, what kind of colours everyone liles to wear when theyre not in those stiff uniforms. She also has a habit of picking up a few extra things for everyone while she's out and about — Lucia, didn't you mention you were looking at this frog plushie in the mall? Lee, you needed an extra set of tools, right? They had your favourite in stock again, Commandant, you don't mind that I got you some, do you?

[sidabro]

had a dream me and two very cunty chic mutuals hosted a party, a really heavy lowwwww bass slow techno one, where the setting was just carpeted floor and soo many places to sleep. everyone was wearing weird socks and drinking absinthe with beer, everything was tinted purple with the lights and there were four fridges in the room, maybe more..i got super drunk and fancied three men in there, so much so i spontaneously oil painted them, there, while being drunk so. After the party ended, one of the friends stayed behind to sleep there (it was her home?) and with the other one hand-in-hand and giggling and talkinag about Mozart and Plato (idk) we went to my home to have a good sleep. we walked across streets of a very soviet hugecity vibed territory, and came to a cement bridge over some tiny rivulet that led further down the road by a huge maxima and the blockhouse that i then took her up to. Somehow, i didnt have my keys; nor phone nor anything. She laughed at me very hard and said that its okay, that happens, we can walk back because walking is healthy and makes you less drunk <3 i was in love with her so i said okay, and we stumbled back down. Once we were ready to pass the bridge again, the toiletpaperpeople (people who deliver your toiletpaper the same way a milkman does) had discarded eight huge 12-packs supposedly enough for whole neighbourhood on the bridge, effectivelly for some reason making a wall. i said something very funny that made her laugh. Maybe it was a reference to the berlin wall. It was hillarious, we laughed all the way back, passed by green trolleybuses and black ravens circling us that imitated the clacking sounds the electric wires made. We came back to the partyplace (unlocked doors and everyone was just sleeping off drunkness aand bass-sickness (somehow a thing that was avoided by not smoking weed and not having sex while any sort of music plays?) and i got my bag and we set out for the second time to my home, where I confessed to her about seeing three men that really cought my eye. She kept teasing me until I told her that all of them looked like some sort of wizards, but one in particular, with ginger hair, looked like he would be sooo cute with a bucket stuck on his head for some reasonnnn <333 i was blushing and gushing and she sortof womanhandled me, teasing and saying ''well if you just want i can connect you with them.. i know who they areee...'' despite me insisting that i dont think any of that would work. we finaly reached my bed, falling to sleep with shoes and outside coats on, a pile of limbs and breathing into eachothers necks. It was very sweet.. In morning so, I got woken up by her saying that someone is here for me. Figuring it was my painting-buyer, i murmured to ''give him the painting by the door and let me sleep'', having in mind some piece with a great navy ship, but of course she handed that blond ginger saxon douchebag looking dude the painting of him all cute with a bucket on his head. He walked into my room knocking and once i jumped up staring at him eagle eyed he became a tumblr post (?) of a picture of himself holding two large fish by the tails and a poll that was like. "well if yo're seres aboot fancyin me lass and are above 18, i promise this: (i will listen to folklore by taylor swift) (the benzonian genacaide in Ghuirine islands needs aur full attention)(i canne make a MEAN scottish pie) (ill try to stewp bein bri ish for you) (i bought you a prussian ww4 metalleon as a givt) (i only want you to cook 1nce a week), and he somehow expressed being a tumblr poll post with his mouth while holding and turning my painting of himself sideways, as if trying to decipher whats depicted, and for all that i was SO absolutelly perplexed and wide-eyed sober understanding that thats the weirdest guy on earth by a margin and that i really dont like him being in my home, and i cannot handle two more weirdos walking in, i woke up..

[thekrows-nest]

WINNDYYY TELL US ABOUT GABBY HER INTERESTS STUFF ABOUT HER RELATIONSHIP WITH DOVE GIVE US CRUMBS FEED US GIVE US THE LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORE

Hee hee a Gabby ask. <3

So some facts/lore about her:

She's into fashion and design. Pretty much all she wears are clothes she made herself. She has absolutely made Dove clothes too (they don't get a choice. /lh)

Her favorite music is rock and pop generally from the 60's through to the 80's, ESPECIALLY the Beatles.

Crows (and ravens) are her favorite animal. She is VERY bitter about Krow's name. ):<

Yes, her gold eyes are natural. She insists that neither them nor her in general are supernatural at all. Stop asking.

She curses more than you, I am like 99% certain of this.

She loves seafood. LOVES it.

When it comes to Dove and her relationship with them:

Generally I headcanon them as working at a cafe/coffeeshop together (of course if this doesn't align with your Dove, that's fine. Gabby can be Dove's coworker or she can just be Dove's friend). How has Gabby not been fired for her less than pleasant attitude? Customers come specifically for her drinks, as well as just to see her cuss out unruly customers. It's a whole thing.

Dove and Gabby became friends through the fact that Dove is one of the few that gave Gabby a chance, despite her prickly, icy demeanor, and Gabby is grateful for this. She treasures her friendship with Dove dearly.

Gabby often stands up for Dove when it comes to Karen customers or just generally anyone that gives Dove a hard time (or someone that triggers Gabby's "bad vibe check"). Gabby would absolutely be the first to tell Dove that 'there's something real fucking off about that artist. Watch out around him.'

Dove may or may not always take her warnings seriously, since generally, almost EVERYONE makes Gabby wary. ...Why do you think that is? 🤔

[kitkatopinions]

The world they landed in 'the Ever After' is something they recognized from a fairy tale, including some of the things that happened to them happening to the protagonist of the book and meeting characters they'd met in the book, but they soon got 'off book' so to speak. Later they discovered that the Ever After is actually the birthplace of the Brother gods, who were given a passageway to Remnant to create worlds of their own. The fairy tale based on the Ever After is apparently everyone's favorite book in Remnant.

Weiss felt bad about losing Atlas and not doing the best job during the Fall of Atlas, but then got over it in a snap.

Blake and Yang were forced to confess their feelings for each other and kissed.

Jaune lived in the Ever After for around twenty years or so (long enough to be going gray,) because he plucked a time fruit from a time tree that sent him back in time in the Ever After. He became the fictional character 'the Rusted Knight' that existed in the book, guiding the protagonist Alyx and her brother Lewis (who wasn't included in the OG book) through the Ever After. Jaune thought that Lewis had been murdered while Alyx had gone back to Remnant, but then found out that Lewis had gone back to Remnant while Alyx had been murdered. Jaune also was acting as 'the hero' and protector to a village of Ever After people called the Paper Pleasers that he was kind of treating like servants while he tried to keep them safe from harm, and they all 'died' but came back to life just with no memories, as the 'Genial Gems.' Jaune learned to accept that people just die sometimes or something, and then was turned back into a nineteen year old while keeping all of his forty year old memories. It was never revealed that he's the one that killed Penny.

Ruby was grieving Penny during the volume and spiraling and getting very little help from her team (though Weiss at least tried a bit,) and also experienced some pretty bad trauma that made her adverse to handling her weapon and even led to her seeing hallucinations. Ruby then yelled at her team and Jaune, basically saying that she didn't feel cared for, was under way too much pressure to be perfect, and no longer wanted to be the leader before taking jabs at Weiss for pushing her too hard in an effort to get home and at Blake and Yang for being more concerned with their relationship than anything else, and then ran away. She then went to Neo (for some reason) who was still trying to kill her and tortured her with clones she made look like dead people/ruby's friends, and tried to convince Ruby to drink tea that was poisoned with something that would 'unmake' Ruby - they call it 'Ascension' and the only example we had of ascension was the person becoming a completely different person with no real memories of who they had been. Ruby drank the tea, but when she 'ascended,' she had the choice to come back as herself and decided to do that, somehow being the only person to ascend without losing any memories or changing her appearance at all and suddenly no longer having the aversion to handling her weapon or seeing hallucinations. Her team then insisted that Ruby hasn't ever been weak or confused and that's why they follow her.

Neo seemed to accept that Roman was gone and decided to 'Ascend' herself, with RWBYJ leaving her behind with the vague idea that Neo will choose who to be now, leaving the potential possibility that she'll be back (or that Roman will be with how they frame ascension for Ruby as if she could've chosen to just return as someone who was already dead like Summer) but pretty much closing out her story.

RWBYJ went to Vacuo in the end with the vague line that they were going 'not where but when you're needed the most,' which to me indicates a possible time skip.

Oh, and Ruby also saw a memory of her mother lying to Tai that she was going on an Ozpin mission before leaving secretly with Raven to do something else, which was the last time anyone ever saw her.

So, new volume is over? Can someone summerize the important parts to see if it's worth watching it myself?

Sorry if that sounds unnecessaryly mean, but now I have school and work, can't use my precious time off too freely 😅

[blackwidow-bby]

A Case of You -Alcina Dimitrescu x Maiden!Reader

I’ve been wanting to write something based on the song ‘A Case of You’ by Joni Mitchell. Alternatively the K.D. Lang version is also very good and meaningful to me. Also who better to write with than really tall vampire mommy 😭

As always feedback is appreciated highly! Thank you for reading 💙

Warnings: blood, and smut (18+) little babies

🩸🩸

You had been polishing the silverware reflecting on the years that you had been in Castle Dimitrescu. 3 short but eventful years. At the beginning it was hectic, bouncing between all of the orders from the daughters and those of the Lady herself. Cleaning up countless messes left around as if they were guests in their own home. Clothes here, blood stains there, broken plates and cups everywhere. It had been as if your birth in the village was a curse, born to feel ashamed of poor class. A majority of the women that lived in the village knew that the only fate of their futures was to be sent to work for Castle Dimitrescu until the end of their days. Once the fair young women reached 18 that was where they were sent. Of course not all of them were so “lucky”. The rest of the women and all of the men were left to the struggles of the small village left to the devices of the surrounding lycans of the other lords. Or worse, kidnapped never to be seen again.

Most of the villagers rumored that those that disappeared were taken by the holy Mother herself and experimented on. Everyone knew what she could do, but for all of the bad sometimes holy Mother Miranda brought some good. One time before sweet Imelda lost her leg to a lycan attack, she saw the fainted mark on the side of its face. The same mark her husband had upon his face on the same side, before his disappearance traveling back to town. As she was dragged back safely by a couple farmers who managed to kill the sickly beast, the only sounds that all of the inhabitants could hear were her screams of her husbands name. Utterly distraught that she could become so unrecognizable enough to his dead eyes that in his transformation could still cause her deadly harm. He never had an angry bone in his body, but if that rumor was true, the experiment had created a monster of a once calm man.

All of your years weren’t as hectic as the first year. Eventually the lady of the house had taken a liking to your work. Always quick to come and cater to any mundane request her and her daughters had demanded of you. Actually now that you think, you can’t remember the last time any of your orders came from the daughters. They only came from the head maid or Lady Dimitrescu herself. A small quirk of your lips found it’s way thinking of your Lady.

Shortly into your second year she began to request you privately into her bed chamber. The first time she asked for you, you had been scared that your end had found it’s way sooner than you would have liked. Your heart was racing in your chest, begging your feet to be just as erratic on the way to her room. Somehow you managed to compose your pace but your heart insisted on faltering you. You knocked three times on her door upon arrival. You were unsure if she had heard, the doors of the castle were solid wood and although your hands were not soft due to the amount of work you were asked to do, your knuckles certainly weren’t hard enough to evade a slight throb from the hefty door.

Her voice crooned from with in, “Come in, my dear.” You opened the door to her chambers carefully as to not slam the wood open and not damage whatever might be on the other side of its radius. She smiled down on you very sweetly. There was something in here eyes. It felt almost like an admiration. You wiped that thought from your mind as quickly as it came. Why on earth would she ever admire you.

She sauntered toward where you stood and slowly lifted her hand. The fear you harbored for the Lady caused you to flinch at her movement. She had never laid a hand upon your person but that did not mean your time would not come.

Your flinching halted her movements. Her expression changed but only slightly. “My dear, I am not going to harm you in such a way.” She had lowered her voice in the close proximity of your bodies. You opened your eyes once more to see her gently place her soft gloved hand upon your head. Gently she moved it down by your ear and caressed the side. “Come to me little one.”

You followed her to her vanity. The space was tidy with neatly placed powders and lipsticks and other make up you had never seen any of the women of the village actually own. She sat down on her chair in front of the vanity. All of the furniture you noticed was made to her size in this dim room. None of the maids were ever called to clean this space, it made you wonder if she even used it at all. Maybe the Lady chose to take care of her own space in a way she knew no one could ever recreate or perfect to her liking. She hummed and pulled your hand to her. In her glorious size, she picked you up and placed you on her lap facing the large mirror. Your eyes shifted between her and your own height. Even perched on her Lady’s lap, your height was still shorter than her own.

Her eyes never met yours even as she slightly moved about to gather a soft brush and place it closer within reach. Your heart was still bounding in your chest trying to make sense of what was perspiring at this moment. The Lady removed her gloves by pulling one finger at a time until they could slip off smoothly. She then reached up and began to undo the clean French braid your hair was done in. She was being so kind and so soft with you, you were baffled. She started to unwork the three strands until she reached your scalp. You moved in tandem with the Lady as she reached again to grab the brush and began at the bottom of where your hair reached. Her ministrations were so soft it allowed your heart to calm. You kept your hands in your own lap, not daring to speak before being spoken to or move before being asked to move. Your Lady focusing solely on brushing the tangles from your hair allowed your own eyes to look about the space you sat. Her only task to groom your tresses, allowed you to get a good look at her face. Her lips and cheeks looked so soft. Her face wasn’t stoic but content in the space. She certainly didn’t look as nervous to have you here as you did to be here. Occasionally her hand would come around the underside and her knuckles would gently brush against your clothes back.

Everything she did was so calm and planned and relaxing. You took the rest of the opportunity to admire her further. Her raven dark locks meticulously curled in their places. Her hat always cocked to the side on her head, you wondered if it ever got in the way. She certainly never let it bother her if it did. The sudden speaking of her voice caused you to jump due to how silent it was seconds before, “I had been admiring you from afar for a while now. I’m sure you have an idea of why you had been called to my chambers after not being asked to before.”

Your voice betrayed you, you had been silent for too long. “Y-yes my Lady. I think I know why I’m here.” She hummed again. You felt the brush finally make its way to your scalp. The bristles were so soft and comforting they made your eye lids heavy. Seeing that she was done with her work on your hair, she placed the brush back in its spot and made eye contact with you through the mirror. She looked at you for a couple minutes more until she spoke again. “You’re always so quiet and kind around everyone here. My daughters can have a way with making the maids end up with either tougher skin or breaking their calm façade.” She was now running her fingers down the length of your back over your uniform. “But not you. You are still the same as you were when you showed up. Quiet and composed.” You weren’t sure if you should thank her for the compliment or be offended by being told that you haven’t changed. You felt like you could handle anything after the tortures her daughters could put maids through.

You could feel her hands moving back up your back and over your shoulders. Her cold slender fingers found your collar while the other hand swayed your hair over your left shoulder no doubt to expose your neck to her. This is it. This is how you end. What a lovely way to die. Her faced inched closer to your exposed neck and you could feel her breath inches away from the space. Your eyes couldn’t seem to move away from her though. You watched the whole thing and how her face never changed emotion. Everything she had done with you was in admiration. Like she longed for what you could offer her as if she didn’t have everything she could want in this castle.

Her face inched closer until you felt her lips press against the spot she was just eyeing. She lightly kissed you and reveled in the sounds you let escape. A chill ran down your body and found purchase in your stomach. You could feel the butterflies going crazy. Yes truly what a lovely way to die. You braced yourself when you saw her go to bite. Braced yourself for the white hot pain to shoot across your whole body but it never came. Instead the only thing you felt was pleasure. She continued to suck in the same spot for moments more. It all made you feel a growing knot down lower. Her strong arms encircled around your waist to hold you tightly as if you could slip away at any moment. You felt them hugging you tightly. The embrace soothed every part of you. You had never felt so cared for.

Unconsciously you noticed that your hands found purchase upon her own. Her face lifted from the crook of your neck, not a smudge to be seen or hair out of place. You could feel her lips by your ear. “I could drink a case of you, and still I would be on my feet.” She whispered and it made you visibly shudder in need. What kind of affect was she having on you?

“You must never speak of this with anyone”

🩸🩸

She requested you many more times and each one was just as delicate and sweet as the last one.

“You’ve been polishing that spoon for an awfully long time, dear.”

Your head whipped around at the Lady’s sultry voice. Your Lady, you thought. “What is it that has your mind occupied?” She questioned.

“Nothing my Lady. I was simply thinking of you.”

She smiled a genuine smile at you and reached her hand toward you. You walked up to her and laced your fingers with hers. Every moment you spent with her you cherished since the first. She reserved so much kindness for you. Internally she ached for the next time she would request you again. Thinking of the way your blood tasted on her lips. So bitter and so sweet. She couldn’t help but want something slightly different this time.

You both made your way to her private chambers once more like clockwork. She allowed you to enter before bending her way inside. You immediately walked over to her vanity as that was where she always fed from you right after brushing out your hair. You turned to her and smiled but she stopped next to her own bed. “Come here to me, my little love.” You walked up slight confusion on your face. “If any of this makes you uncomfortable, I want you to stop me. Can you do that for me, draga mea?” You nodded slightly. She sat down on the edge of her bed and reached her hand to wipe the wrinkle that etched on your forehead in your confusion.

“My little doe, you mean more to me than you could ever know.” She pulled your hand to her and moved both of you to the head of the bed. Gently she cupped your chin in her large hand. You closed your eyes and suddenly you felt her lips press against yours. Gods they were so soft but so cold. You reciprocated her kiss. Alcina had craved this for too long but she needed to pace herself. She has the rest of the afternoon until the night to indulge in anything your freely gave to her. You didn’t move to stop her and she took this as invitation to continue further. Keeping your lips pressed to hers, her hands roamed your body lower than just your back. She relished in the soft skin of your thighs and the way you felt under material that had softened from years of wear and wash. She couldn’t help but think of how your bare skin would feel under her own hands.

Your own arms snaked their way to her face as you cupped the sides with both hands. Your lips continued to move in tandem with her own letting soft whimpers escape here and there. Her hands grabbed the hem of your dress and slowly made her way up to removing the garment. You whined when she separated the kiss to completely remove the dress. “Are you still okay, little doe?” You answered with a small yes and moved to undo the buttons behind her own dress. Once the buttons were undone enough to slide her dress down you moved the sleeves down her muscular arms. She couldn’t keep her eyes off of looking how small your body was compared to hers. How soft and unblemished your skin was. All she wanted was to kiss every soft inch. Even the one side of your neck that she fed from ceased a single indent. She always made sure to feed carefully as to not rise suspicions.

She pulled you back into her slightly laying over you and began to kiss you once more as her hands roamed to your chest. She wrapped her hand around to undo your bra carefully to free your soft tissue from their confines. She separated once more to look at all of you that was exposed. The gods certainly took their time in creating such a spectacular woman she had thought. Her whole hand moved down to palm your breast lightly. She could feel the bumps raise and your nipple harder under her touch. You let out a little moan under her touch. She could spend eternity doing anything to hear your little sounds. Little sounds only she could make you release. She looked into your eyes creating the distraction for her hand to move to your underwear. You stared deep into her golden orbs never breaking as she sought out your core with her finger. Your breath hitched when you felt her slide down your soft folds and move back up to your clit. You were warm and wet and all for her. Alcina’s sweet little doe. She pressed a small peck to your lips then moved her mouth down to your breast that her hand had just been. She began to suck as she teased the entrance to your tight hole. She relished in the feeling of your most intimate parts and the sounds she could draw out from your delicious mouth. You were arching your back into her wanting nothing more than to be so close to her.

Your hands gripped anywhere the could. Her arms, shoulders, neck, hair. Everything she was doing made your brain go crazy. You did everything you could to find where your hands fit best. Her soft tongue swirled around your nipple while the tip of her finger pressed deeper into you. She was losing patience in having more of you and it was taking everything in her body not to devour before she was content you felt as good as she did all those times she tasted your blood. But damn did she want all of it. He finger pressed deeper until she was down to her knuckle. Your soft panting didn’t give any indication that you were in pain. She started to move her finger in and out at a slow pace to get your body use to the intrusion. Your panting grew louder and so did your moans. You wish you could feel this way everyday from this moment on. So cared for, so deeply wanted. Alcina kissed her way up from your breast to your neck. Leaving light nips and soft kisses near where she could feel your pulse quicken. He finger moved faster inside of you, pressing at your soft walls until she found that spongey spot that would surely get more sounds out. She had to take her time though.

‘Ohs’ and ‘ahs’ were all you could really get out along with all of your sickeningly sweet moans. Alcina never expressed out loud but she wanted you to say her name. Moan her name out from your lips, cry to the gods or whoever would listen that she could make you feel bliss like you’ve never felt before. No one ever got this much want out of her. She never wanted anyone the way she wants you right now. The way she’s been wanting you since you came to the castle. Her little doe unraveling under her half naked body. You were finding it harder to contain any noises and began to moan louder the faster her finger moved. All of a sudden curled her fingers, hitting that one spot. “My Lady!” It made Alcina hummm. “Tell me little doe, do you know my true name?” It took every fiber of your being to come up with an answer for your Lady. “N-no my Lady. T-the maids, they d-don’t talk.”

It was amazing you could come up with that through your haze. The Lady was sucking on your neck while she curled her finger more to get you to come undone the way she wanted. “It’s Alcina little one. I want to hear my name fall from your lips.” The knot in your stomach grew. You were getting very close from her sinful fingers buried inside your tight hole. Alcina could feel your Wales tightening around her. As she felt you get closer she bit down on your neck to drink from you the way she had truly craved. The knot broke and you came hard on her fingers, screaming her name to the high heavens. She continued to feed through your orgasm and once she felt your walls stop pulsing she lid her finger out and detached away from your neck.

You were sweating at this point. Utterly spent wrapped up with your Lady holding you tight. She wiped the little droplets that formed on your neck and pulled you onto her as close as she could get you. Your head rested there on her chest still panting. She would go to the farthest parts of the world for you. Hopefully she would have all of the time to prove it to you now.

“I could drink a case of you.” She whispered into your hair before placing a kiss to your crown. You mumbled a little getting more comfortable and sinking into Alcina’s chest.

Sleep began to take over you. “I would still be on my feet.” Was the last thing you said before slumbering in your Lady’s arms.

🩸🩸

[rosewind2007]

“Ratthi! We talked about this!”

Persee had been working in the atrium cafe for several months now, it was their summer placement. Come the harvest season they’d be returning to studying astronavigation, and she dreamed of being picked for a placement with the politie’s brand new academic allies. But for now she was excited to see her favourite customers arrive.

Everyone had their favourites, and Persee loved these two. They were the best.

They sat in a companionable silence, as they so often did. The small and exquisitely beautiful one was watching everyone walk by, and waving at their many friends. He was wearing the most outrageous fashions, as he so often did. Persee and her friends joked that he must have gotten dressed in the dark, in someone else’s room: they suspected this was actually the very real excuse for some of the more extreme clothing combinations. It didn’t matter, he always looked wonderful.

The tall brooding one was, as usual, looking broody. Engrossed in his feed. You didn’t see that many augmented humans around on Preservation Station, so he stood out. But even without the augments he would have stood apart, he gave the impression he never fitted in wherever he was. Not that he wasn’t a nice person, he was.

In fact Persee had, not so long ago, been horribly stressed about a work assignment (which she shouldn’t have been working on in the atrium shared feed area during work hours, not really—though it wasn’t the sort of thing anyone would get you into trouble about, it wasn’t as if they were corporate wage slaves) and had initially been terrified to see a direct personal message from him. The heading made it clear he’d somehow been following her project woes in some detail.

It could have been creepy, but it wasn’t at all—even if their friends had teased Persee about their admirer for a while, until something else distracted them.

He wasn’t interested in her, not in that way. He’d never tried to even initiate a conversation, though he did now smile back when she served him. Sometimes.

Today Persee was delighted to watch from a distance for now; casually glancing over as whilst she apparently watched an educational animation on her bubble display. Actually gazing through the dancing graphs and equations, and the plant biome’s fronds.

The little humming-bird (Persee knew their names now but still thought of them as the bird nicknames the crew had given them) seemingly having tired of the silence, was interrogating his friend. Even from Persee’s not particularly brilliant vantage spot it was obvious! The Raven kept trying to deflect him, parrying his verbal onslaughts. Persee guessed from the body language and facial expression that her Raven was insisting they didn’t want to talk about something “emotional” or “about relationships”. Without being seen to stare or rub up too close against them in the feed (Persee knew she was quite the ingénue with feed protocol at times, something she’d try and rectify before heading into the Corporate Rim, she might be ignorant but she wasn’t stupid) Persee tried to pick up the emotional flavour of the conversation.

Her Raven turned and looked right at her, she blushed. He gave a small smile and indicated on the feed that they would like fresh drinks. He acted as if she hadn’t just been doing the feed equivalent of gazing at them open mouthed.

Persee took them over their drinks, as she approached the table she heard Ratthi say “But surely . . . It’s clear you have feelings—”

His companion flinched visibly. He plainly couldn’t help it.

She felt oddly defensive of him, and found herself glaring at his interrogator. He looked back at her, his face a picture of affectionate frustration.

“QED!”

She looked down at the tray and covered her embarrassment by handing them their drinks. New staff always got their orders mixed up, Persee knew exactly which syrup they each liked in their coffees and made sure the one with the whipped topping was dusted with bitter spices, not sweet. The beautiful one turned his charm on her like a heat lamp. He was flattering her hair and clothes, he had noticed she’d refreshed her hair dye; his friend looked at her as if baffled. She didn’t think he even noticed people’s hair colour at all.

He sat up, and cleared his throat quietly. “How is that idea you had about the use of advanced AI in extragalactic astronomic analysis working out, Persee?”

He used her name!

Hummingbird looked on in wide eyed theatrical surprise, “Oh! There is someone you have to meet!”

A brief cloud crossed Dr Gurathin’s face, “I’m sure that can be arranged in time, Dr Ratthi.”

[neonponders]

Based on @lovebillyhargrove ‘s This Steve with This Billy. (original concept credit to @youfuckingdonut)

I’m having more success with mafia drabbles than my on-going mafia fics orz

• • • • • • •

Steve didn’t know what Billy’s job actually was.

He knew the guy wore nice shirts and nicer blazers, suit jackets, and tuxedo pieces. He knew Billy had to be either the boss or close to it, because he only wore the pieces of a full suit or tuxedo. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he burned every tie he saw. Always had too many buttons undone.

But he looked good. And he knew he looked good. He walked right up to Steve waiting in line with Robin at a cafe before it closed. They’d gone to a nightclub at the absurd time of 8 o’clock. Hey, no door charge because they showed up so early. They were drunk off their ass and sweaty by 11pm. He called it an efficient night out.

“I’ve never been so happy to have a box of stale croissants in my life,” Robin mused as the tired barista used the tongs in the glass display case.

Steve bounced from foot to foot, still dancing to the bad radio pop overhead. He cracked open his juice from the chilled shelves, since asking for a coffee five minutes shy of closing might get a wad of spit mixed in - 

“You’re light on your feet.”

Steve didn’t think too heavily on it when he was drunk. Everyone was prettier when the brain behind the eyes was in some cups, just like all food tasted better. Maybe he should’ve devoted more brain cells to the moment. But that was a lost cause now.

He and Robin chatted and Steve apologized for his hand being wet with condensation and sweat when the guy offered a handshake. Even through the sparkly haze of alcohol, Steve could tell he gave Steve the time of day more than Robin, but they were on their way out anyway.

Steve might’ve said, “Well that was a great nightcap. He’s tasty,” a bit loud before the cafe door shut behind them. Robin coughed on her croissant and Steve guffawed and swiped it for himself before taking off down the street with her chasing after him.

But then Steve just kept running into him.

The guy from the cafe.

Walking into the park as Steve was leaving it. Strolling by the bank before Steve went inside.

With his designer clothes and his clean shoes and smooth, clean shaven jaw made ever so slightly tacky from skincare and lotion when it touched Steve’s face. Because he leaned too far forward over the table he was serving at his upscale restaurant job and

Time froze in a vacuum

Because Steve could’ve sworn he - Billy - lifted his face into the shadow of Steve’s neck. Inhaled.

It was a miracle he didn’t drop a plate or spill a glass. He dared the briefest glance but blue eyes pierced him regardless of the emotion behind them. Steve felt like a dagger tied on a string hung through his belly, lazily stirring his nerves and threatening to land dangerously in his groin.

He left the table before he made a fool of himself and all the company present. Large tables guaranteed large tips. He’d be set for the next month if he just didn’t fuck this up. He strode past the open-air kitchen and the ‘butler’s pantry’ area to hallway with the staff bathrooms -

Hands turned him around by his hips, surprisingly warm despite the thick poly-cotton of his white apron and the black slacks underneath.

The dagger fell.

The kiss was soft despite how ravenously Billy plundered his mouth. It was all Steve could do, to hold onto his nape and then wrap his arms behind Billy’s neck. He tasted like steak and amaretto and neutral sweet, like a man. Mewls and moans left Steve’s throat like he couldn’t stop them. Didn’t want to. Just wanted to drown in whatever this was.

Billy pivoted them so Steve pressed into the wallpaper. He hummed again as his hand found the clean shaven fade on the back of Billy’s head, his blunt fingertips petting and scratching there like he hadn’t known this man for more than an hour of collective encounters.

A sound left Billy’s chest. It hit Steve’s core like a pebble on a bell before he broke the kiss enough to meet Steve’s gaze. Clear blue eyes far more sober than Steve felt and probably looked. Wrecked with lust for this stranger who had money and means to always find him.

“A car’s going to pick you up later.”

Steve blinked with reticence, not wanting to leave this haze but already out of it.

“Get into the car.” The pad of Billy’s thumb touched Steve’s lip, light but insistent. He breathed, “Steve,” before leaving the hallway. Pleading. At least, Steve wanted it to be a plea.

But he was gone when Steve checked back at the table to top up waters and drinks. In singles and pairs, the group left until Steve was left to collect dishes and wonder who the hell managed their tabs. His manager answered that question for him moments later, by shoving a thick fold of cash into his apron pocket.

“Your tip from table twenty-three.”

“I didn’t see you get the bills,” he commented, intending to reach in and see what the high rollers tipped - 

She shoved his hands away from his pocket. “You don’t take money out in the open, silly. Get back to your locker for that.”

Steve knew he never saw her with a pile of receipt folders with credit cards sticking out of them. But he went back to work and didn’t take inventory of his tips until closing.

That table might’ve spent $1200 on dinner and drinks.

Steve got $1100 in tips. What kind of math that was, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t fixate on it too much, because inside the fold of money was a piece of paper with a phone number. No name. Steve could assume it to be Billy’s but he didn’t know...

Get into the car.

Steve zipped up his coat as he stepped out of the employees’ entrance. He emerged out of the service alleyway to...a regular city street. No cars more or less than normal, and none of them stood out...

Did he even want to get in?

He almost shook his head, just to jostle his thoughts around. “Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid,” he whispered to himself as he turned and marched his ass home. He didn’t know this guy: a person with a scary amount of recon on his life to be able to find him at any ol’ time. His dinner friends weren’t exactly a college reunion, either.

But he kissed like a god and tasted like one too.

He held Steve like he wanted him, and Christ, Steve wanted to be wanted.

The privilege of being craved.

He was wrist deep in shampoo with his eyes closed when he realized someone pounded on his apartment door. The panic of rinsing suds off his body as fast as possible, the terror of someone at his door at 2am, and the fury of pissing off his neighbors at 2am spurred him out of the shower and into a t-shirt on top of the towel around his waist.

God sure as hell could’ve been at his door and Steve would’ve answered it the same way.

“It’s 3am! Shut the hell up!” he hissed.

Billy looked equal measures of pissed and concerned, but he blinked and amusement crept in. He wore a long, swanky pea coat that looked soft to the touch. Steve was more preoccupied with moving out of his way when the guy strode right into his apartment.

“Why didn’t you let the car pick you up?” Billy’s gaze moved around the Spartan yet cluttered living room.

“Uh, I didn’t see one?” Steve sassed before he admitted, “Or...it’s a street? Lots of cars.”

Billy’s attention landed on him like he didn’t quite believe it. Steve stood in a towel with dripping hair, for god sake. Billy’s eyes raked over him as if he were putting together some pieces of a puzzle that Steve didn’t understand. Or was mundane life so difficult if you could just drop $1100?

Billy took his hands from his pockets and started removing buttery leather gloves. “Do you have a roommate?”

Steve felt like another dagger was about to fall, but where, he couldn’t tell. He inhaled and sighed, “No.”

“Who is that woman to you?”

Steve’s brows reached for his hairline. “You mean my best friend?” he challenged.

Billy laughed. Derisive and amused and...impressed? Relieved?

He threw his coat, jacket, and gloves on the IKEA couch and those hands found Steve’s waist again. “Billy?” he managed before he had those lips again. Before Billy’s hand found the base of his skull and encouraged him to tilt for better access.

Then Billy let a moan seep into his sigh. Their lips parted audibly and he breathed, “No one talks to me like you do. About me. To me. You-mmh.”

He took Steve’s lips again like he craved. Steve shivered against his erection brushing against the fibers of his towel.

“Can I finish my shower?”

“No,” he purred darkly, arm locking behind Steve’s waist as the other pressed a rolling hand to Steve’s front.

He trembled through a broken shout, panting against Billy’s lips and jaw, gripping his silk shirt at the risk of scratching the threads. Billy licked over Steve’s lips, and Steve was dangerously close to cumming right there.

“Billy...” he whined. He warned.

Bright eyes gazed steadily at him through hooded, dark lashes. “Keep saying my name like that. I’ll give you everything.”

[violetsoju]

page 30彡★

kageyama tobio · fluff · 3.2k

a/n: came up w this idea based on a tiktok vid of this trend that randomly popped up on my feed (which i can't find anymore T_T) do let me know if you enjoyed it! ❤️

“Hey, Tobio.”

The mop of raven hair doesn’t look up to you, eyes fixated on the jiggly onsen tamago on top of the curry tonkatsu.

“There’s this new trend going on.”

He hums in response, fingers gripping onto a pair of wooden chopsticks, manoeuvring the fragile soft lump towards the spoon. Just a few more steps till being cradled snugly in the deep end of the cool ceramic spoon.

“And we’re gonna learn the moves and film it right here after this.”

His fingers twitch. One of the long pointy chopsticks loses its cool and stabs the tamago right in the core, streaks of yellow bleeding across the crisp golden brown tonkatsu. Its counterpart desperately tries to put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding, but too much yolk has been lost, and more jabs were made in the frantic rescue mission. Not even the string of ‘shit’ muttered could save the day. So long, dear onsen tamago.

You’re finally met with piercing blue eyes glaring at you.

“No. And look at what you did to my onsen tamago.”

“You should’ve scooped it up with your spoon instead of pushing it with your chopsticks. Common sense much?” You thank the waitress for the hot steaming tempura udon. “Plus, you’re supposed to break the yolk and coat the luscious essence over your rice, unless you’re a freak and eat it in one go.”

Kageyama’s scowl softens when a piece of fried tempura lands in his bowl in exchange for a piece of tonkatsu. A glint of delight gleams in the two pair of eyes at the first bite of delicious food, taste buds tingling in satisfaction.

It’s a rainy Wednesday night. And rainy nights call for warm comfort food to make up for the gloomy wet weather brought by the pitter patter parade of fat rain droplets. So after a spontaneous text message, here you are, with an old close friend of yours, inside a small cosy shop hidden in an alleyway without any prior arrangements.

“And let me repeat myself. I’m not going to do any dumb dance trends with you again.” Kageyama restates his point firmly.

“Come on, you had so much fun the last time! Even Tsukki sent a good job sticker in the group chat.” You reason.

“You mean he enjoyed seeing me almost tripping over my feet.”

“That was the highlight, to be honest.”

He smacks your chopsticks away with his at your attempt to snag another piece of tonkatsu, not giving in into your pout.

“Anyway, I was just kidding. You’re in luck this time because it’s not a dance trend.”

Kageyama raises an eyebrow at you suspiciously, tilting his head to ask you to continue on.

“This time it’s a trend where you grab your nearest book, turn to page 30, and the first sentence will describe your love life. Interesting, isn’t it?”

“Just when I thought you’ve outgrown these ridiculous nonsenses.”

“Says the one who still insists on drinking a box of strawberry milk before matches.” You jab your chopsticks towards his direction accusingly.

“That’s different because it actually works. And it’s good.” He counterattacks by returning your gesture.

“I hate to say this but, point taken.”

He triumphantly snickers as you sigh in defeat.

“Aren’t you curious on how my love life is described?” You question, blowing off the steam from your spoon full of udon.

Kageyama chomps on another piece of pork cutlet, unamused at your question. “If you’re generous enough to share, I’d be honoured.”

“‘He smiles’”

“What?”

“That’s the first sentence on my page 30. ‘He smiles’.” You reply matter-of-factly, taking a sip of your hot green tea.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” His brows knit in confusion, hands momentarily forgetting the spoonful of curry rice in hand.

“Use your imagination, Tobio. Awaken your romantic cells.” You gesture with your hands dramatically, earning a deadpan look from the boy seated across you.

“Does it mean whoever’s smiling is the love of your life? Or someone who’s always smiling?” Kageyama rests his cheek against his left knuckle, trying to connect the dots together.

“Well-“

“Wait a minute! Don’t tell me it’s Suga-san. Because if it is, I won’t allow it because Suga-san is way too good for you.”

He yelps as you not-so-accidentally dip your chopsticks stained with broth into his green tea.

“Shush, we both know how much Suga-san adores me. And everyone else.” You smugly take another bite of your fried tempura as he frowns in disgust after drinking the now broth infused green tea.

“I guess it’s feeling of love at the sight of his smile? Like feeling all warm and fuzzy seeing him smile.”

“Is there someone who makes you feel that way with their smile?”

You swirl the udon with your chopsticks mindlessly for a moment. “Maybe there is.”

You look up to the pair of blue eyes staring back at you, holding the intense gaze firmly, neither side backing down to break the tension.

“Do I know him?” Kageyama falters, a hint of anxiousness cracks in his voice.

“Since when were you so interested in my love life?” You laugh awkwardly, hoping to conceal your nervousness.

Despite the surrounding bustling chatter, the world suddenly falls painstakingly silent, with the irregular beats of two young hearts thumping deafeningly and out of rhythm.

The raven-haired boy succumbs first, looking back down to his half empty bowl. You continue swirling your bowl of udon, mentally slapping yourself at your answer and cracking your head to come up with something to save the mood.

“Well, I could help to scan him for you, if you want. Boys know boys better after all,”

You snap back up to look at the boy seated across you, eyes not meeting yours. This is a surprise.

“Plus, you can save the tears and snot to yourself because I might not be free to attend to your midnight crying sessions. If it really happens.”

A surge of warmth radiates throughout your body at his words. Definitely not from the hot bowl of udon.

Kageyama still has his eyes on the bowl before him, looking anywhere else but you. He tries to keep himself busy by scooping more rice, groaning as he further destroys the onsen tamago, unaware of the faint blush painting his cheeks. Definitely not from the hot bowl of curry, too.

“Don’t worry, he isn’t a jerk. I’m sure you’ll like him too.” You chuckle, adjusting your chopsticks to pick up more udon.

Oh, Kageyama Tobio, what exactly should I do with you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───

Scroll. Refresh. Switch apps. Repeat. Sigh.

You’ve been stuck in this constant loop for the past hour. Instead of getting much needed sleep for the next day, you subject yourself to the chains of the device held in your hand, despite the drooping eyelids and strained arm muscles.

What’s so fascinating about social media anyway? If it’s not friends or random acquaintances posting sinful food pics of ootds, it’d be someone ranting about either their work or love life, or memes you’ve already seen before. Sometimes you wonder if you’ve been casted a spell by social media.

Crying out a yelp as the gadget lands right in your face at the slip of your hands, you massage your nose bridge and forehead from the impact, grimacing in pain. It’s not easy being a slave to social media, huh.

Tossing your phone to the side, you roll over to lie flat on your back, sprawled like a star fish on your bed. A long sigh escapes your lips, eyes staring blankly at the bare celling above. Maybe you should really call it a day.

A beep from your phone tells you otherwise.

Tobio [23:17]

I did it. You owe me one box of strawberry milk.

[23:18]

IMG_20210402_961222

You immediately plop yourself up to sit cross-legged on your bed, tapping on the notification to open the message. As expected of Kageyama Tobio, it was a full-page picture of a book, with a small number 30 on the top left-hand corner. But unexpectedly of Kageyama Tobio too, the page wasn’t from those volleyball books or magazines stacked in the corner of his room. Looks like the mini ramble session you gave him on the way to the metro station worked.

“I know volleyball is the love of your life too, but we’re talking about your actual love life here! So no volleyball books or magazines, go rummage Miwa-san’s book shelf for one random romance novel. Just one. She’ll thank me for taking care of your love life.”

Sliding both your thumbs outwards on the screen to zoom in, your lips press together to form an ‘o’, brows arching in fascination at the first sentence.

She knows.

Interesting.

Your fingers dance across the screen swiftly.

me [23:20]

Ohhh interesting. See, it’s exciting, isn’t it?

Tobio [23:21]

I guess so

me [23:22]

Do you think it describes your love life well?

To actually imagine Kageyama Tobio having something that he loves as much as volleyball is, an odd and foreign feeling.

Tobio [23:24]

I’m not sure tbh

me [23:25]

Well spill the tea so I can help you analyse it

Tobio [23:25]

No

You swear you would throw punches at him if he was beside you now.

me [23:26]

Tsk tsk, so who’s the girl you’ve been hiding from me

Tobio [23:27]

Since when were you interested in my love life?

The use of your own words against you has you clicking your tongue in amusement.

You were contemplating between a civil or sarcastic remark when a new message bubble pops up.

Tobio [23:29]

But do you think she knows?

me [23:30]

About what?

Tobio [23:31]

Nvm, forget what I said

Seriously? This conversation is by no means, ending like this. You tap on the video icon on the right-hand corner of the screen hastily.

It takes a few rings for the familiar face to appear on screen, face a little too close to the camera, brows furrowed, lips pursed.

“What the heck, do you know what time it is?” Kageyama huffs in annoyance, running his fingers through his dishevelled black hair.

“Says the one who sent me such juicy information at this hour.” You bend your legs up, resting your hand on your knees for a better angle.

He throws his head back exasperatedly, muttering something inaudible along the static noise from the speakers, resting his head on a wooden frame you recognise. He still hasn’t changed his bed that he has long outgrown, complaining about soreness in his legs and arms that dangle off the edge every night.

“How do you expect me to go to bed with you hanging me like this? You have the worst timing ever.” You raise your hands in protest.

Kageyama buries half of his face in his palm. “I shouldn’t have listened to you.”

“But you get a box of strawberry milk from this! It’s worth it.” You gesture a finger gun to him knowingly.

He moves two fingers away from his face, peeking to see you through the screen like a child. Heaving a long, heavy sigh, he shifts his weight to sit up properly, half of his face still cradled in his palm.

“So, ‘she knows’, huh. Back to your question. What do you think she knows?” A tinge of excitement and fear bubble up your throat.

Kageyama avoids your gaze, looking to the side. “Well, I mean, about my, er- my feelings, I guess?”

“You mean your heart.”

The sentence has his eyes back on you, vivid blue eyes clouded by the shadows of dimly lit room.

“Yeah, uhm, well, I guess.” His voice trails off.

“Well, have you told her before?” You keep your voice steady.

“No, of course.” His words come out like a whisper.

“Then how is she going to know without any words or actions?” It comes out like a blunt statement, but somewhere deep down, a wave of relief washes over you.

“But I’m always there for her. Whenever she needs me, wherever she is, I try my best to be there for her,” Passionate flames ignite across the vast blue ocean. “I know something is on her mind when she bites the insides of her cheeks, when she flicks the tip of her thumb with her index finger constantly, or when she plays with the piercings on her ears. I’m not one with words, but I stay by her side when she needs me to, listening to her rambles or vents, or wiping away tears that stain her cheeks soft like mochi.

“I set notifications the night before to give her morning calls during her exams or important days because she tends to snooze the alarm on days like these. I always have extra band-aids ready on hand because she always somehow cuts and hurts herself, which hurts my heart too. Heck, I even learn ridiculous things that would be the death of me just for her, because nothing compares to the sparkle in her eyes when she flashes her precious smile, brighter than the sun that takes my breath away every time. I-”

Kageyama stops midway, face painted with horror as if he just let out a million-dollar secret. Panic flares in his eyes, mouth agape in incredulity as his body rigids, dumbstruck with terror by what rolled off his tongue so smoothly. You wonder if the line got disconnected because he turned into a static image, with a full-blown flustered look on his face.

You wave at the screen. “Tobio, you still there?”

It takes a few seconds for the raven-haired boy to snap back to his senses and regain his composure, coughing awkwardly in attempt to calm himself down. Small patches of blush blooming furiously on his cheeks peek out from his hands covering his mouth.

He looks cute.

No, he’s cute.

He’s always been cute.

“I- Er- Ye- Yeah, I’m still here.” Kageyama struggles to find words from his tad-larger-than-average vocabulary vault that has seem to disappear into thin air.

“Gosh, breathe Tobio, breathe. Come on, take a deep breath with me. One, two, three.”

He exhales deeply at the count of three with eyes shut close, hoping that all his jitters have been expelled away in the air.

“There you go. Feel better now?” Your lips tug up gently as the boy on the screen visibly relaxes, shoulders loosening from the tension, face free of creased lines.

He opens his eyes slowly, blinking a few times to adjust his vision before returning a soft smile to you. “Yeah, I do. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

A tranquil silence blankets over the both of you. This time, the steady beats of two young hearts thump in tune like a metronome. Two young souls gaze at each other, basking in the calmness and comfort of the sincere warm smiles that felt so much like home; but too proud to admit they were like lovesick fools, brushing off the feelings that were screaming loudly to be heard, feelings that they were afraid to face.

“Do you think she knows?” It’s a genuine question, one that takes a mountain high of courage to come up with.

“I’m sure she does.” It’s a genuine answer, one that takes a of couple hundred meters of might to emerge from the deep ends of the sea to come up with.

And you both hope that you’re on the same wavelength.

“So back to square one. Who’s the girl?”

“None of your business.”

“Another piece of crap from you and I’ll leave without you at the metro station tomorrow.”

“Sorry.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽.* :☆ﾟ. ───

When you reach the designated exit of the metro station the next day, a pair of eyes as blue as the day immediately catches your attention among the crowd, feet shuffling on its own accord towards them. As if there was a detector sensing your presence within him, the owner of the beautiful pair of orbs turns to you, raising a hand in greeting.

Kageyama gives you a smile, a smile that says, ‘I hope my smile makes you feel warm and fuzzy’.

You smile back at him, with a smile that says, ‘I hope you know that I know your heart’.

It’s hard to shake off the pride to be damned, but the two lovesick fools find themselves discarding it slowly, bit by bit with each step taken, together.

【☾】

Kageyama is a creature of routine. He always has his day planned out in detail and hates it when it doesn’t go according to plan, or when something pops out of the blue. But there are a few which he can make exceptions for. So when he receives your text asking for dinner after his training session, he agrees in a heartbeat.

He felt his heart sink deeply in his guts when you said there was, indeed, someone who made you feel warm and fuzzy with their smile. But who was he to have his say when his status was merely just a close friend?

Miwa thought he had lost it when he barged into her room without notice that night, scanning her bookshelf for novels, specifically of the romance genre. It was more nerve-wrecking than retaking exams back in high school with Hinata while flipping through the pages, and it didn’t help much when he finally found the particular page, with the first line inked in black staring back at him in doubt.

He doesn’t know why he sent the picture of the page to you. What exactly was he expecting?

Worse, he doesn’t even know why he started blabbing about how he was always there for you, how much he cares for you, and how much you mean to him. It all just came out so naturally that he could actually score an A+ for impromptu speaking.

But when your eyes were filled with concern while calming him down instead of making fun of him or pestering him for more, something flutters in his mind. Maybe it was from the rush of adrenaline from before, or maybe it was his heart that had leaped out from his chest taking over. He brings up the question once again, with more confidence this time.

He knows you’re not one to lie with your eyes. And he sees the kindness and honesty in them.

A ray of hope flickers in him.

So today, Kageyama musters up every ounce of courage he has, and tells himself it’s now or never: to close the gap he has longed for so long between two hands that swayed side by side. Instead of retreating his hands away when they brush against yours, he curls the tip of his fingers with yours delicately, as if your fingers would melt at his touch.

He hopes that he made the right decision.

And when your fingers curl back, intertwined with his, he knows he has made the right decision, and that his question has been answered.

She knows.

And the fact that he’s the one behind the smile that makes you go all warm and fuzzy, he swears it feels like he could run for miles and miles without running out of breath, soaring even higher than the clouds in the skies. None of the perfect sets he has set in his lifetime could compare to the satisfaction and bliss he was feeling right now.

Because you had set his life ablaze the moment fate brought the both of you together, and you’re his end game.

[heartbreakgrill]

Finally; Monty Green (The 100)

a/n: i can’t stick to one fandom. i write for whatever my hyperfixations are based on. this month, it’s the 100.

description: friends to lovers, giving each other things you like idk

You sighed at the warm breeze wafting through the open door to the supply room. The Rovers had left a while ago, out on some mission surveying the land. You were going through the boxes of books Gina was slowly collecting for you from Mount Weather. You were a teacher’s apprentice on the ship before you were imprisoned for stealing medicine. Now that safety and immunity was granted in the form of Arkadia, you were back under the wing of Matthew Gunner. There weren’t many kids left, but they still needed taught.

Jasper, who wasn’t allowed out on missions yet, lazily worked beside you. You had forced him to help you, seeing as he had nothing else to do but drink all day. Music played from the speaker they had found in Mount Weather, at a soft volume after you forced him to turn it down. He needed a lot of forcing these days.

Jasper had had a soft spot in his heart for you since you were introduced to him and Monty when the drop ship first landed three months ago. The three of you got along well and you had been roped into their’s and Clarke’s reckless gang. After recovering from your sustained injuries in Arkadia, you decided against being involved in those antics. You finally safety and you didn’t want to experience near-death experiences willingly.

Jasper, humming and flipping through a picture book, was sat beside your seat at the steel table. You set another book on the shelf and went back to said-seat.

“How long you gonna make me do this today?” Jasper handed you a book.

“You have legs, Jasper,” you hissed and stood to put it on the shelf. You decided to just stand from now on. “And, I’ll make you stay here until you tell me one thing that made you happy yesterday.”

Jasper threw his head back and a guttural groan resounded from his hollow cheeks, “God, stop talking to Monty about my feelings.”

“Your feelings need to be talked about,” you insisted. “Plus, gratitude exercises are good for healing trauma.”

Jasper sassed, “Trauma? Oh, you mean when Monty and Clarke murdered my girlfriend and her people?”

You had never played into his pity party, always biting back with an equal level of sass. “Yeah, that trauma.”

Jasper opened his mouth to respond when the humming sound of a Rover cut him off. You both watched as Monty, Bellamy, Raven, and Miller stepped out of the parked vehicle. Octavia tied her horse up outside before strutting past everyone, probably on her way to find Lincoln.

Raven limped over to you, a wide smile on her face. “Anything interesting?”

The others, except for Miller, slowly followed her. You shook your head, “It’s been mostly textbooks because they started itching at the classrooms.”

You shuffled through the pile you created of books you thought your friends might like. “Oh! Yes, Bellamy, I found a copy of Greek tragedies.”

You handed him the thick novel and his face lit up. He rounded the table to give you a tight hug, “Thank you so much. I just finished the Iliad and was hoping you had something new.”

“Of course,” you grinned up at him. He stalked off to find his girlfriend as Jasper snuck away, thinking he was off duty. Monty sat in Jasper’s empty seat and Raven took yours.

“Raven, here’s a textbook with a bunch of computer coding bullcrap that I genuinely don’t understand. Thought you might like to get into that more,” you used both hands to give her this heavy book.

She, much like Bellamy, lit up. She opened her arms, wide, and you came around to hug her. “I’m gonna go get changed and crack this bad boy open. See you guys at dinner.”

You turned to Monty, who you were closer to now. Both, literally and figuratively. Back in Mount Weather, the two of you had grown a bond that tightened whenever he saved you from getting killed by the bone marrow extractions. You were weak and hurt and he comforted you.

“Anything for me?” He rested his chin in his palm, watching you as your hands reached for the thinning pile.

You nodded and slid into the seat beside him. Your knees touched his as you turned towards him. “This ones about Aerospace engineering. You probably already know a lot about it, but the pictures are pretty.”

You thumbed through it and found a glossy photo of the galaxy. Monty was looking at you, but you didn’t notice, when he said, “It’s beautiful.”

“And then there’s this,” you closed the book and set a smaller one on top. The book was a sage green with leaves all over it. The title read, in big, white letters, “It’s 4:20 Somewhere.”

Monty mumbled the title beneath his breath and gasped. “You’re awful.”

“Hey, I’m not the stoner,” you teased, leaning in to catch his eyes.

Monty smiled, nose scrunching up as he tried to insult an angry expression. He reached for your waist, giving a gentle shove to your side. You slid across your seat slightly before respositioning yourself. You leaned into his hand, which was still hanging in the air, but the inexperienced flirter pulled away.

You frowned at his shyness, but shook off the yearning for more than gentle touches and shushed smiles. A beat of silence paused the conversation, then Monty jumped up with a gentle, “Oh! I just remmebered. I got you something, too.”

You turned in your seat and watched him jog back over to the Rover. He opened the side door and reached in, pulling out his bag. You met him at the Rover and he set his bag onto the hood. You leaned against the side, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

“What could you have possibly found out there in the wilderness,” you laughed at your own words.

Monty, who was digging in his bag, chuckled. “Just wait and- see!”

With his final, exclaimed word, he presented a rusted, golden necklace with the letter ‘M’ dangling from the chain. You turned deep red, your hands becoming clammy and heart jumped through your ribs.

“Monty, is-“ you cut yourself off, unable to form a comprehensive sentence. “That’s...”

Monty gently dropped the necklace into your hands. You eyes flickered up to him and then back down to the gift you were fingering. He was watching you intently, waiting for you to say something.

“Where did you get it?” You asked.

He shrugged, “We stopped at a trading post ask for directions and I saw the Grounder wearing it. Traded my rations and a belt for it.”

Your hand automatically slapped his arm, “Monty! You must be starving.”

He grabbed your hand before you could pull it away from his arm. “It was worth it. Here, let me put it on you.”

He turned you around by tugging on your arm. You handed him the necklace, gathered your hair into a make-shift ponytail, and waited. His nimble fingers brushed against your skin as he clasped the jewerly around your throat. The cold metal settled onto your chest and you turned back around.

You looked up at him, “See, there’s an M on this necklace. My name starts with a [idfk what your name starts with, fill in the blank].”

Your brow quirked at him and he turned sheepish. Monty glanced at his shoes, hands wringing against one another. “What ever could that mean?”

You smiled and touched his hand. He let go of himself and let your fingers move between his. Both of you looked up at the same time and your eyes bore into one another. You pressed forward and he stayed where he was. Your chest hit his and his free hand finally landed on your waist. You carefully grabbed the back of his neck, intertwining your hand into his hair.

“Please kiss me.”

“Yeah, okay, I probably should do that now,” he rambled on. He shut his mouth firmly, then caught your lips.

You heard a cheer resounding through the room and pulled your lips off of him. Monty and yourself looked over to the noise, watching as Jasper bounced up and down, a glass in his left hand. His other was shaking in the air, a wide grin on his face.

And he was looking at you.

“Finally!”

You blushed and shoved your head into Monty’s neck. He hugged you completely, chucking into your hair.

Finally.

[9worldstales]

MCU “Thor”: Who’s to blame for Thor’s banishment?

So I’ve seen around people blaming Loki for Thor’s banishment and…

… I can’t help but wonder if they realize that, by saying so they aren’t just pinning the blame on the wrong person but they’re doing a HUGE, GIANT SIZE disservice to Thor.

But let's list sources used for this first.

SOURCES MENTIONED:

Movies: “Thor” (2011), “Thor – The Dark World” (2013)

Comics: None mentioned

Direct-to-video animated film: None mentioned

Motion comics: None mentioned

Books: None mentioned

Novels: “Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor” by Alex Irvine (2015)

Webs: None mentioned

Others: “Thor” old movie script, Interview “Director Kenneth Branagh and Kevin Feige Interview THOR”, interview “EXCLUSIVE: Screenwriter Don Payne Talks Thor!”, Interview “SDCC 2010: Chris Hemsworth Interview THOR”, Video “Thor (2011) Chris Hemsworth Kill Count”

Although “Thor” is meant to be an origin story for both Thor and Loki…

Kevin Feige: The movie, very much, is an origin of Loki, almost as much as it is an origin of Thor. We had to ride that balance. There were drafts where Thor took over too much, and there were certainly drafts where Loki became too prominent, and I think we found a nice balance that is clearly the origin of both of those characters. [Director Kenneth Branagh and Kevin Feige Interview THOR]

…the focus was mostly on Thor and his journey to learn humility.

I mean, this is not MY interpretation of the story, it’s basically what everyone involved in the production says the story is about. Thor is unworthy, the banishment is just, from it he learns humility and becomes worthy again.

Don Payne: Whereas we’ve got an extra-dimensional being once worshipped as a god by the ancient Norse who’s banished to earth and stripped of his powers to learn humility, all set amidst the Shakespearean intrigue of a dysfunctional royal family. You just have to find the things that make Thor timeless and relatable as a character. It certainly helps that he’s charismatic and likeable, albeit flawed. He’s banished for good reason, but I think people will want to go on the journey with him and root for him to find redemption — particularly with Chris Hemsworth’s performance. [EXCLUSIVE: Screenwriter Don Payne Talks Thor!]

Kenneth Branagh: That story arc of the flawed hero who must earn the right to be king is in our piece, but what’s key is the stakes. There, it’s Europe and England, and here, it’s the universe. When that family has problems, everybody else is affected. If Thor throws a fit and is yelling at his father and is banished, suddenly the worlds are unstable. [Director Kenneth Branagh and Kevin Feige Interview THOR]

Chris Hemsworth: At the beginning of this film, he’s certainly a brash, cocky warrior who’s about to inherit the keys to the kingdom, and his father thinks that he’s not ready. It’s the journey of him learning some humility through the film. I think he’s one of those people who has his heart in the right place. He’s doing what he’s doing for his family and to protect the kingdom, and he thinks it’s the right way to do it. It just happens to be a very aggressive way of doing it, which probably isn’t the right way. It’s about tempering that raw emotion that he drives off most of the time, into the right direction. [SDCC 2010: Chris Hemsworth Interview THOR]

And in fact Thor makes a 180° turn from how he started.

The boy then man who insisted he wanted first to kill all the Jotun then give them a lesson is the one who sacrifices his chance to meet Jane again to save them.

Young Thor: When I’m king, I’ll hunt the monsters down and slay them all! Just as you did, Father.

and...

Thor: March into Jotunheim as you once did. Teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they’ll never dare try to cross our borders again.

versus

Thor: You can’t kill an entire race!

The man who said his father was an old man and a fool, becomes the one who says there will never be a wiser king than Odin.

Thor: And you are an old man and a fool!

versus

Thor: There will never be a wiser king than you. Or a better father. I have much to learn. I know that now. Someday, perhaps, I shall make you proud.

The man who returning from Jotunheim was too busy to care for how Fandral got hurt so that it was Odin who had to say to get him to the healing room, is the one who, once back to Midgard, first worry about having his friends getting Heimdall on the healing room and then about what he’ll do with his brother.

Odin: You cannot even protect your friends! How can you hope to protect a kingdom? Get him to the healing room! Now!

versus

Thor: Get him to the healing room! Leave my brother to me.

The man who thought his father’s lessons were wrong, then admits his father was right.

Thor: While you wait and be patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us. The old ways are done. You’d stand giving speeches while Asgard falls.

versus

Thor: Neither did I. My father was trying to teach me something, but I was too stupid to see it.

The man who first was told by Loki going to Jotunheim was madness and did it anyway then tells Loki how destroying Jotunheim is madness.

Loki: Thor, it’s madness.

versus

Thor: Loki, this is madness.

The man who would start a fight just because he was called ‘princess’ versus the man who kept on refusing to start a fight with Loki even after the other hit him four times and only does so when Loki threatens Jane.

And then there are the comparisons that got lost because some scenes got cut. For start an even better comparison, in which another man calls Thor "Princess" and Thor this time refuses to fight.

Jotun: Run back home, little princess. [Thor stops in his tracks. Loki goes white. He knows what's coming.] Loki: Damn. [In one quick move, Thor pulls Mjolnir, swings it, and KNOCKS the Jotun clear across the plaza. The Asgardians reluctantly draw their weapons, gather into a circle around Thor. Volstagg looks around at the angry Jotuns approaching them.]

versus

Drunk townie: You were in the diner with that hot girl. [Thor doesn't like where this is going.] Drunk townie: I wouldn't mind her doing a little research on me. [He laughs. Thor is annoyed.] Thor: I have no quarrel with you. But she's a lady. You should be more respectful. Drunk townie: And you should shut the hell up, princess. [Selvig looks to Thor, concerned that he's going to lose it. But, to his surprise, Thor remains unaffected by the Townie's baiting.] Thor: I will not fight him. Drunk townie: Then it'll be easy to kick your ass.

Or like the deleted one in which Frigga said that Thor believed to be ready… when in the end Thor will realize he’s not.

Odin: Do you think he’s ready? Frigga: He thinks he is. He has his father’s confidence.

versus

Thor: There will never be a wiser king than you. Or a better father. I have much to learn. I know that now. Someday, perhaps, I shall make you proud.

You might remember Thor smashing a cup because he wanted another drink… well there’s a deleted scene in which, just before the Warriors Three and Sif reach Midgard, he brings a cup to Izzy in payback for the one he broke.

Thor: This drink, I like it. Darcy: I know. It’s great, right? [Thor hurls the empty mug at the ground, SHATTERING it.] Thor: (CALLS OUT) Another! [ISABELA ALVAREZ (60), the diner’s proprietor, glares at Thor from behind the counter.] Jane: Sorry, Izzy. Little accident. What was that? [He doesn’t understand. The other patrons stare at him.] Thor: It was delicious. I want another. Jane: Well, you could have just said so. Thor: I just did. Jane: No, I mean, ask nicely. Thor: I meant no disrespect. Jane: All right. Well, no more smashing. Deal? Thor: You have my word. Jane: Good.

Versus

As the group finishes breakfast, Thor looks at the mug in his hand, gets an idea. Thor: [About a cup] May I have this? Darcy: Sure. Thor: Thank you. Please, excuse me. [Thor leaves. In front of her diner, Isabela prepares to open for the day. Isabela sweeps the front porch. She looks up to see Thor approaching. She eyes him suspiciously. He offers her a MUG.] Excuse me, Isabela. Isabela: Oh my gosh. Thor: To replace the one I broke. Please, forgive me for my behavior. Isabela: Okay, thank you. Thor: if I may, I’d like to come back here for more of yours splendid "coffee". Isabela: Any time.

And then you might remember how Fandral was hurt in Jotunheim and it was Loki and Volstagg who helped him, while in a deleted scene we’ve Selvig being hurt and Thor helping him.

And so on and on and on.

Thor started one way, this caused his banishment and the banishment changed him.

If we go and say Thor didn’t deserve to be banished, that it was all Loki’s ploy, we ignore how Thor before was an unworthy person and after he became a worthy person. We turn Thor into a person who’s ALWAYS worthy, regardless of him acting one way or its exact opposite but for some reason was misjudged and punished unfairly and never really had to change because he was perfect as he was.

We turn Odin into a fool who punished a worthy son for crimes he didn’t do and then took the punishment back not because Thor changed, but because he realized he made a mess.

The idea Thor’s banishment is Loki’s fault is against the authors’ intentions, damages Thor by stripping him of his growth and, ultimately, it’s totally false, so trying to pin the blame on Loki so as to make him look bad is simply wrong.

Although Loki did some things that triggered Thor’s reactions, Thor wasn’t completely and utterly brainwashed. It was Thor’s decisions who ended up bringing those consequences and Loki had no idea Odin would go as far as banishing Thor.

In a deleted bit Loki says Odin normally ALWAYS forgive Thor.

Fandral: Well, if he doesn’t show up soon, he shouldn’t bother. Odin looks like he’s ready to feed him to his ravens. Loki: I wouldn’t worry. Father will forgive him. He always does.

From Thor’s reaction to his banishment it’s clear it’s the first time he got such a punishment and that he assumed all he had to do to be forgiven is to retrieve Mjolnir.

The novelization is not shy to say that:

Odin had always favoured Thor because Thor was a warrior, just like him… [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

The Warriors Three and Lady Sif clearly follow Thor because they don’t think it’ll end up in Thor being banished for disobeying Odin’s orders even though they know he shouldn’t have done it.

This proves it was the first time Odin reacted as such to Thor’s disobedience.

But let’s dig more into the story.

Loki yes, caused the coronation to be delayed by having three Frost Giants sneak into the vault and attempt to steal the Casket.

His purpose was:

Loki: That was just a bit of fun, really. To ruin my brother’s big day. And to protect the realm from his idiotic rule for a while longer.

Loki has no reasons to lie to Laufey about this. The ‘a while longer’ clearly imply he didn’t expect it was permanent. If he had said ‘to have him banished forever’, it would have affected Laufey just the same, he wouldn’t have judged him worse.

Thor’s reaction to the invasion is entirely Thor’s.

Thor: The Jotuns must pay for what they’ve done! Odin: They have paid, with their lives. The Destroyer did its work, the Casket is safe, and all is well. Thor: All is Well? They broke into the weapons vault! If the Frost Giants had stolen even one of these relics... Odin: They didn’t. Thor: Well, I want to know why! Odin: I have a truce with Laufey, King of the Jotuns. Thor: He just broke your truce! They know you are vulnerable! Odin: What action would you take? Thor: March into Jotunheim as you once did. Teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they’ll never dare try to cross our borders again. Odin: You’re thinking only as a warrior. Thor: This was an act of war! Odin: It was the act of but a few, doomed to fail. Thor: Look how far they got! Odin: We will find the breach in our defenses and it will be sealed. Thor: As King of Asgard.... Odin: But you’re not king! Not yet.

Loki doesn’t even talk here. Thor, despite Odin thinking the opposite, insists they should just attack Jotunheim until Odin reminds him he’s no king.

This is relevant because if the coronation has concluded and the Jotuns had found on their own the way to get into the Vault, Thor would have waged war against them. This is what he wants to do and discussing things with Odin doesn’t change his mind, Odin merely forces him to shut up with his ‘I’m the king’ card.

Originally he would leave slamming the door behind himself, a sign he was still upset. We don’t see this, but we see him he’s still upset enough he turns a table upside down.

Then he has a discussion with Loki.

Thor: It’s unwise to be in my company right now, Brother. This was to be my day of triumph. Loki: It’ll come. In time. Thor: What’s this? Loki: If it’s any consolation, I think you’re right. About the Frost Giants, about Laufey, about everything. If they found a way to penetrate Asgard’s defenses once, who’s to say they won’t try again? Next time with an army. Thor: Exactly. Loki: There’s nothing you can do without defying Father. No, no, no. I know that look. Thor: That’s the only way to ensure the safety of our borders. Loki: Thor, it’s madness.

It’s true, if Loki had revealed he had been who orchestrated the break of the Frost Giants instead than telling him he also thought they were a threat, Thor might have calmed down. But this is not excuse enough for how Thor disobeyed Odin’s order, and only proves Thor wasn’t fit to be king right there because he insisted on going to Jotunheim even though Loki also reminded him this means defying Odin.

This is a serious matter but the key of it is that Thor wanted doing it before and still wants to do it now. He just can’t control his own wish to fight the Jotuns even if his father told him no. He’s not thinking. He’s not a common warrior, he’s the man who’s meant to be king.

If it takes him so little to wage war, then he’s unworthy of being king.

And does Loki really want for him to go to Jotunheim?

Not in the slightest, he knows it’s madness, in fact, believing Thor can’t be stopped, he tries to have him tattled out to his father.

Fandral: Well, at least he’s only banished, not dead. Which is what we’d all be if that guard hadn’t told Odin where we’d gone. Volstagg: How did the guard even know? Loki: I told him. Fandral: What? Loki: I told him to go to Odin after we’d left. He should be flogged for taking so long. We should never have reached Jotunheim. Volstagg: You told the guard? Loki: I saved our lives. And Thor’s. I had no idea Father would banish him for what he did.

In a deleted scene we see that as the group is about to ride toward the Bifrost Loki leaves them for a moment to talk with a guard. He’s not lying when he says he warned the guard.

The novelization digs a lot in how Loki didn’t want them to reach Jotunheim and in how Odin KNEW Thor would just do something, so it’s entirely possible Thor would have acted even if Loki had disagreed with him or had told him nothing.

“Why did he always seem to get into trouble because of his older brother? Wasn’t he supposed to be the wiser one? Odin has expressly forbidden that they enter Jotunheim. Yet it wasn’t the first time Thor had done something reckless. And it wouldn’t be the first time Loki was powerless to stop him.” [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

Loki had made a decision. True, he could not dictate his brother’s actions, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t continue to make plans of his own. As the others checked and double-checked that they had everything they would need for the journey to Jotunheim, Loki slipped away. When Loki rejoined the others, they were on their way to the Observatory. Hogun gave him a curious glance, but he ignored it. What he had done was none of their business. [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

They were on their way to Jotunheim. And what would happen once they got there was not in the hands of fate, but in the hands of his impulsive brother and his warrior friends. Loki would not be able to manipulate events there. He had to trust that the arrangements he had made would be enough for them all to survive. [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

Odin spent an uneasy night and felt no better in the morning. He had not seen Thor since their argument in the Vault. There had been shouting in the banquet hall as Thor told his friends what had happened, but Odin had heard nothing since. Frigga had tried to reassure him that Thor’s temper would ease and this would blow over, but Odin knew better. His son felt himself to be king already, whether the ceremony had been completed or not. He would take action. It was his nature. Odin hoped only that the action would not cause more problems than it solved. Just then, a guard rushed to him, and Odin’s misgivings were proved correct. Thor had taken his friends and journeyed into Jotunheim. Odin felt a deep well of fury rise up within him. Thor has deliberately disobeyed his orders. So, too, had Heimdall, who should not have let anyone pass on the Bisfrost – especially not a war party going to Jotunheim. “Tell the barn master to have Sleipnir and my battle gear to be readied immediately,” he ordered the guard. [“Marvel Cinematic Universe Phase One: Thor”]

Once in Jotunheim Laufey notices Thor wants to be there to wage war. He even warns him that if he keeps this up he would unleash something terrible… and it’s not Thor but Loki who accepts Laufey’s offer for them to leave, Thor doesn’t accept it even if they’re outnumbered and risk being all killed because, as Laufey said, he craved for battle.

Laufey: Your father is a murderer and a thief! And why have you come here? To make peace? You long for battle. You crave it. You’re nothing but a boy trying to prove himself a man. Thor: Well, this "boy" has grown tired of your mockery. Loki: Thor, stop and think. Look around you, we’re outnumbered. Thor: Know your place, Brother. Laufey: You know not what your actions would unleash. I do. Go now, while I still allow it. Loki: We will accept your most gracious offer. Come on, Brother.

Ultimately, even if Laufey and Loki had almost persuaded Thor to leave, all it takes is a small provocation and Thor starts attacking Frost Giants.

Jotun: Run back home, little princess. [Thor stops in his tracks. Loki goes white. He knows what’s coming.] Loki: Damn. [In one quick move, Thor pulls Mjolnir, swings it, and KNOCKS the Jotun clear across the plaza. The Asgardians reluctantly draw their weapons, gather into a circle around Thor.]

Loki is clearly not happy with his brother’s actions, he didn’t want this. It’s Thor who decided to do this anyway and, during the battle, we see that Thor is in a great spirit as he destroys a Frost Giant after another for a total of 145 Frost Giants (you can see the dead count in the Youtube video “Thor (2011) Chris Hemsworth Kill Count”).

Through the battle first Sif and then Loki TWICE will urge Thor to leave, they’re outnumbered they’ll end up getting killed if they remain there and it gets no better when Fandral gets wounded.

When Odin shows up Thor is all for continuing the battle.

Thor: Father! We’ll finish them together!

This is not Loki dictating his moves. This is all Thor and ultimately it’s Thor who argues with his father once they’re back, which is the last straw for Odin.

If Thor had kept quiet or had acted sorry Odin might have still forgiven him. He does not.

Thor: Why did you bring us back? Odin: Do you realize what you’ve done? What you’ve started? Thor: I was protecting my home. Odin: You cannot even protect your friends! How can you hope to protect a kingdom? Get him to the healing room! Now! Thor: There won’t be a kingdom to protect if you’re afraid to act. The Jotuns must learn to fear me, just as they once feared you. Odin: That’s pride and vanity talking, not leadership. You’ve forgotten everything I taught you about a warrior’s patience. Thor: While you wait and be patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us. The old ways are done. You’d stand giving speeches while Asgard falls. Odin: You are a vain, greedy, cruel boy! Thor: And you are an old man and a fool! Odin: Yes. I was a fool to think you were ready.

This is no Loki needling Thor, this is all Thor, this discussing matching the one he had in the Vault with Odin previously.

And, credits when it’s due, at this point Loki tried to interject.

Loki: FATHER-- [Odin turns with a growl and gives Loki a look which stops him in his tracks.]

Only at this point Thor will be banished and while yes, the way Loki chose to interrupt the coronation clearly had upset Thor and his words didn’t manage to calm him down, it’s also clear that not only Loki didn’t want for them to go to Jotunheim and almost get killed but that it’s Thor’s reaction to the situation that causes his banishment and that situation could have happened regardless of Loki having a hand in it or not.

Invasions happens.

The difference between “Thor” and “Thor: The Dark World” in which another invasion takes place, is that although Thor is always trying to disobey to his father in both movies, in the first he did it because he wanted to go at war with the Jotuns, in the second he did it because he hoped to spare Asgard from a war.

In the deleted scene for “Thor: The Dark World” even Odin acknowledges Thor was right.

Odin: I thought you’d been blinded by passion but in truth you were the only one who could see and you... did what needed to be done

His motive for disobeying his father in “Thor: The Dark World” is the exact opposite than it was in “Thor”, but if he’d been the old Thor he would have had no qualms to drag all Asgard into a war.

So yes, Loki set up the situation, but if Thor ended up being banished it was solely for his own reaction to the situation, a situation that could have happened in other circumstances.

Would Loki coming clear with Odin lift Thor’s banishment?

No, of course not, because none of Loki’s actions are what moves Odin to decide for Thor’s banishment. What pushes him to decide for such a punishment are Thor’s reactions to the situation. If Loki had confessed the most this could cause was for him too to also be banished.

And, to Thor’s credits, he grew in his banishment and became a better person. This is important, it doesn’t deserve to be underscored.

Also, as said before, Loki couldn’t predict the punishment would have been banishment and he didn’t control Odin either.

Not only Loki actually tried to stop Odin, but even Frigga in a deleted scene begged Odin to reconsider and he refused.

So yes, Thor’s banishment ultimately turned out to be convenient for Loki, but he didn’t deliberately orchestrated it, he didn’t plan that far.

So really, let’s just Thor have his moment of personal growth in which he becomes a better person in his own movie, let Odin have his own agency in deciding if to punish his sons or not and just accept the whole trip to Jotunheim wasn’t something Loki wanted nor Thor’s banishment something he could predict.

In short simply accept the story as its authors wanted it to be.

I get not everyone might be aware of interviews and deleted scenes but really, I would say the movie made the whole thing obvious enough to be understood just by watching it.

[antebunny]

April 25: ribbons

A Swan Maiden Fairy Tale Fusion

Lan Wangji is a huntsman who happens upon a pond in the woods. He sees this epic coat thing made from raven feathers on the banks and goes “wow this is so cool and so pretty i should give it to my brother” and picks it up. Then he sees this guy on the shore and freaks out wondering if he’s dead, but he’s not, he’s just unconscious & naked. So Lan Wangji wraps him up and brings him home, because he’s nice. Then the guy wakes up, introduces himself as “wei ying, courtesy wuxian”, sees the feather cloak and says “nice…cloak you got there”

“it is a gift for my brother”

“ah. Right…when’s ur brother getting here?”

“i will visit him when the snow melts”

“k. Cool. guess im staying here until then”

“can you not go home?”

Wei Wuxian eyes crinkle like he’s sharing a private joke: “Not until the snow melts”

Lan Wangji is a good host and doesn’t know how he feels about this guy just declaring that he’ll live with him for the next several months but…okay.

Lan Wangji finds out very quickly that Wei Wuxian isn’t normal, and it doesn't take him long after that to guess that Wei Wuxian also isn’t entirely human. He’s a very bad houseguest, he just sits, doesn’t know how to cook or anything really, and talks at Lan Wangji while Lan Wangji makes them breakfast. He follows Lan Wangji everywhere he goes with no explanation, just invites himself along. He talks while Lan Wangji is trying to hunt but somehow that doesn’t scare away the game. He flinched the first time Lan Wangji’s arrow found a mark, and insisted on honoring the fallen bird before returning. He passes time whistling and carves himself a flute, they play duets and Lan Wangji finds himself composing something on his guqin in the early morning while Wei Wuxian is still asleep on the floor. Wei Wuxian introduces him to spice, which he hates, but watching Wei Wuxian’s face light up isn’t something he thinks he can ever get tired of.

Wei Wuxian talks a lot about his home and his family, which is apparently a port by a river delta, which is how Lan Wangji learns that Wei Wuxian a very good swimmer, like everyone else there, and that he and his brother are constantly pushing each other in the lake, that he goes out to the pier to drink at night, that he has the best big sister who makes lotus and pork rib soup and stops Wei Wuxian from fighting with his brother, who is an angery smol one but also the best little brother ever (how this is possible, Lan Wangji doesn’t know, it’s clear Wei Wuxian loves his brother even if he spends most of the time making fun of him)

Lan Wangji doesn’t understand why Wei Wuxian can’t return to this home he’s heard so much about, doesn’t know why he found Wei Wuxian abandoned & naked by the side of the pond, but decides that Wei Wuxian is magic and it’s a magic pond, and if his family would leave him in that state, they don’t deserve him. He works up the courage to ask “wei ying. When the snow melts. Stay with me.” and Wei Wuxian is Conflicted bc he likes Lan Wangji and would like to stay but hates that he has to and maybe won’t see his family ever again. In the end all he says is “okay” and Lan Wangji is Very Happy. He also sees Wei Wuxian eyeing the feather cloak often but he already said he’d give it to his brother and doesn’t know how to offer it to Wei Wuxian. But then Wei Wuxian says “guess you’re not giving it to your brother now” which is basically how Lan Wangji thinks Wei Wuxian asks for things so he just nods vaguely.

Wei Wuxian guesses pretty early that Lan Wangji doesn’t know the full extent of what he’s done, and he clearly doesn’t know who Wei Wuxian is, but that’s not surprising. He decides not to tell him, because why would he? On the off-chance that Lan Wangji will just...give it back to him? Wei Wuxian has heard the Swan Maiden tale, he's has seen the worst parts of humanity; he can’t trust that.

It’s been raining a lot recently, which means Lan Wangji has less opportunity to hunt, and it’s harder to hunt after rain. He goes to the nearest town to trade when his supplies get too low (Wei Wuxian comes with obviously) and there the gossip is that some villagers swear up and down that they saw purple lightning (Wei Wuxian isn’t surprised, just sighs and says “of course”) which means that Sandu Shengshou is angry! And that the Lady of Lotus Blossoms, who usually blesses typical goddess things like matchmaking and fertility/childbirth, has 1) stopped and 2) started leaving white lotus blossoms behind, which means that she’s mourning which is sad and terrible! (Wei Wuxian agrees that her being sad is terrible and gets misty-eyed. Lan Wangji wasn’t aware that Wei Wuxian held her in such high regard).

In town, Wei Wuxian gets Lan Wangji better deals, flirts with some girls which makes Lan Wangji sad for unknown reasons, gets harassed by some guys which is how Lan Wangji confirms that Wei Wuxian is not human/magic bc in the dark & rainy night his eyes looked red and his teeth in the moonlight looked too long and too sharp, and no one heard from Wen Chao again. Lan Wangji also buys him clothes

The snow melts. Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian set off to visit Lan Xichen. Wei Wuxian isn’t wearing the cloak and Lan Wangji doesn’t understand why? But doesn’t ask because he never does. They get to the lake where Lan Wangji found Wei Wuxian and wait for Lan Xichen to meet them there, meanwhile Wei Wuxian hisses at a peacock and talks to a sparrow (Lan Wangji doesn’t question it. He never does), then Lan Xichen arrives and at the same time purple lightning flashes and a young man descends from the sky dressed in rich purple silks followed by a lady dressed in lavender and rose pink. they’re easily recognizable as Sandu Shengshou, the Lord of the heavenly Lotus Pier, and the Lady of Lotus Blossoms, his sister and the Lady of Lotus Pier. Lan Xichen is like “wangji wtf is going on” meanwhile Jiang Cheng accuses Lan Wangji of kidnapping his brother, and Jiang Yanli is like “we’re willing to bargain for our brother back. what do you want?”

Lan Wangji: "If he’s ur brother why did you abANDON him"

Jiang Cheng: "how DARE we’ve been searching for him for MONTHS ever since you TOOK him"

"i found him abandoned so i took him home to PROTECT him"

"that’s a fancy way of saying you decided to keep him like an exotic pet"

"i did no such thing"

"then why did you keep that!?" Jiang Cheng points at the feather cloak and everyone looks

Lan Xichen: "oh no"

Lan Wangji: "what"

Lan Xichen: "wangji. the swan maiden"

Lan Wangji: *remembers the story about the swan maiden who left her swan feathers by the side of the pond while she bathed and the huntsman who took her feathers and thus took her, forced her to marry him and bear him three children, before she found her feathers, after which she yeeted outta there with her three children and never left the heavens again, leaving huntsman to die of a broken heart.*

Lan Wangji hadn’t even considered it, maybe because Wei Wuxian was sleeping and therefore didn’t beg for the feather cloak back, maybe bc he made a weak joke instead of flat-out asking Lan Wangji what he planned to do, maybe because his wasn’t pure and white but rather made of raven feathers and pitch black

Also Wei Wuxian got roaring drunk that’s how he ended up there. Jiang Cheng is like “just bc my brother is the stupidest dumb person to ever idiot–” “hey!” “does not mean you can just taKE ADVANTAGE of him”

Anyway Lan Wangji freaks tf out and practically throws the feather cloak back at Wei Wuxian, who hasn’t been meeting his eyes and not saying anything this whole time and tries to apologize. Jiang Yanli grabs it and her brother and walks into the lake, pink and cream lotus blossoms blooming under her feet; she doesn’t sink under the surface. She stands in the middle and they both go under. Then Wei Wuxian arises in his full black-and-red glory, Jiang Cheng shoots Lan Wangji one last glare and then the three of them promptly disappear into the heavens

Lan Xichen holds Lan Wangji for the first time in years while he cries. He stutters his way through an explanation of what happened the past three months, saying again and again that he didn’t know, he noticed that Wei Wuxian wasn’t human and a little bit magic but he didn’t expect this and he didn’t realize that he was preventing Wei Wuxian from leaving. Lan Xichen says things like “i believe you” and “you’re not a terrible person, you just made a terrible mistake”

Eventually Lan Wangji stops hyperventilating, and that’s when a flock of crows leaves their roosts, the wind shrieks, and Wei Wuxian descends again. Lan Wangji doesn’t understand how Wei Wuxian could possibly forgive him, or how someone like Wei Wuxian could possibly take interest in a lonely huntsman like Lan Wangji, but Wei Wuxian holds his hand out and says that he promised to take Lan Wangji on a tour of his home (lotus pier!!), and his eyes do that thing and he says “well? Are you coming?” and how can Lan Wangji say no?

[starshine583]

When One Thing Leads to Another

(Hey guys! This isn’t a fic, just an idea that I came up with and wanted to write about. Hope you all enjoy anyway!)

Flashing lights and blaring music. The perfect combination to either give someone a good time or a horrendous headache. Unfortunately, Felix was never known for partying; so he found himself suffering the latter. The pounding in his mind matched the beat of the speakers, and occasionally, a round of cheers and clinking glasses would spike the pain. Why did he agree to come here? He could be at home right now, reading a nice book in the quiet of his apartment. But no. He had to be at some ridiculous bar with his ridiculous cousin.

“Come to the club with us,” he’d said. 

“It’ll be fun,” he’d said.

Felix rolled his eyes and tipped his glass up to his lips, letting the bitter taste of his Bourbon Sour slide over his tongue and down his throat. Stupid Adrien. Why did he insist on dragging Felix to places he didn’t want to go? Why did his mother have to coax him to not reject the offer? Couldn’t they let him be a troglodyte in peace?

He set his cup back on the napkin that was acting as a makeshift coaster and thumbed the side of the glass, feeling the cold sweat from the ice drip down. Felix was half tempted to press the drink to his forehead in hopes that it would ease some of the ache from his on-coming migraine. Perhaps he should ask the bartender for headache medicine. Or better yet, just go home. He’s been there for at least an hour or so. That should satisfy whatever itch Adrien needed to scratch by bringing him along, right?

Felix swiveled around in his bar stool, scanning over the dancing crowds. Normally, he could spot his cousin from a mile away due to his raging fans, but tonight, the lights were dim, save for the blinding strobe lights, and everyone there was probably drunk out of their minds already or close to it. No one would be recognizing him any time soon. That was one of the reasons they attended this particular club in the first place.

This plan to blend in, however, worked only too well, because now Felix couldn’t see Adrien either. Too many people were dancing and shuffling around in the unsteady darkness for him to catch a proper glimpse of the facial features or hair colors. If he wanted to find Adrien, he would have to venture into the belly of the beast himself.

Felix swiveled back around in his stool and crossed his arms across the counter with a huff. He’d rather stew in this corner all night than try to navigate amongst those drunken morons. Adrien had to come up for a drink at some point. So he would simply talk to him then. 

Another bump on the counter rattled the stray glasses strewn across it, and Felix glances to the left. He expected to see a drunkard wobbling around or another shameless couple making out, but instead, he was met with the sight of a young woman. She appeared to be in her early twenties, certainly no older than himself, and quite displeased, if the quiet scowls and hissed curses were any indication.  

In a huff, she yanked a handful of napkins out of the nearest dispenser and began furiously dabbing a dark spot on the front of her cocktail, party swing dress. Felix assumed it must have been a spill, which was a pity. The dress had a magnificent pattern. Specks of red that vaguely reminded him of a swarm of Ladybugs curled around the pink fabric from the bottom of the dress to the top, and the white sash that was pinned around her waist with a jeweled butterfly brought out the halo of white that surrounded each of the red specks. The combination gave the enchanting impression that the insects were glowing, which was impressive. Whoever created that intricate piece of clothing certainly had a gift.

After scrubbing the stain for a good five minutes, the woman let out a heavy sigh and set the crumpled napkins back on the counter. She then slid into one of the bar stools, leaving an open seat between them, and let her face drop into her hands with a groan. Her steam from a few minutes ago must have worn off, because the only thing he could see in her slumped posture now was exhaustion.

Felix averted his gaze to take another sip of his drink. At least he wasn’t the only one who saw this club as a place of torment.

“Bartender,” He heard the woman say, her voice almost drowned out completely by the music, “Get me a tequila shot, please. Just one for now.”

The bartender nodded at the request and began shuffling around behind the counter to mix the drink. Felix watched it unfold out of the corner of his eyes- one can only stare for so long before getting caught -and wondered how many shots she planned on taking. Tequila was a decently strong beverage when taken without caution. One too many, and you’ll find yourself passed out on the floor or hurling up something unseemly in the washroom. He hoped for her sake and everyone else’s that she didn’t get drunk and turn into one of those loud-mouthed fools. Because if she started rambling obnoxiously right in his ear, Felix might be inclined to finally snap and go on a murder spree, starting with Adrien. 

The woman wasted no time downing the shot in one gulp, and the effects set it in immediately. A shudder ran over her body from the burning sensation, causing her to shake her head to counter it. Her raven hair twirled with the movement and curled around her shoulders and face, but she paid it little mind, merely brushing the locks back over her shoulder and out of the way.

“Come on, you can do this.” The woman muttered to herself as she fixed her short, slit, bell sleeves. “This is fine. We’re doing this for Adrien.”

Felix rose a brow. Was she talking to herself? How many drinks has she had exactly? 

“Oh, Felix~!” 

Thoughts of the woman were ripped away when he heard the coo of his name cutting through the crowd. Felix suppressed a groan, though he allowed a scowl to slip onto his lips. That would be Lila Rossi, his second headache. She was the one person he hated more than Bourgeois and his uncle combined. Why did Adrien even invite her? Was it pity? Blackmail? Another act of that false kindness of his? 

Whatever the reason, Felix wasn’t going to turn around and acknowledge that lunatic. The people bustling, cheering, and lazily singing around him were bad enough. He did not need some cheap, over-glorified ‘model’ hanging off of him on top of that. 

And yet, despite his efforts, Lila still managed to find him. She wrapped her arms around his neck with a sickly sweet laugh as though they were the best of friends or more, and it made him want to gag. Didn’t she have anything better to do than beg for his attention like some pathetic dog?

“There you are!” Lila sang, nuzzling her face against his. “Where have you been? I need a dancing partner.”

For once, Felix was glad that they were in a club, because there were no stuck-up business partners scrutinizing his every move. No one to chastise him when he shoved Lila off of his shoulders so hard that she almost bumped into another customer.  

“Find your own dance partner.” He hissed. 

Oh, if Lila’s expression didn’t give him the best form of twisted satisfaction. She looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Of course she did. Until now, they’d only interacted at formal events, where Felix was forced to resign himself to social etiquettes. It hadn’t occurred to her that he might be more abrasive in a casual setting. Or, in this case, much more abrasive.

A light snort floated to his ears, and his gaze flicked to the left again. The raven-haired woman had a hand to her mouth, a slight smile peaking out as she stared at Lila. Was she laughing at them?

Lila cleared her throat, finally starting to recover. It took her long enough. He would think that she’d be used to rejection by now considering how often she must throw herself at other men.

“W-Well, I am trying to find one.” She said. “I just figured you might have more fun if you loosened up on the dance floor.”

Felix rolled his eyes. Hiding her gold-digging ways with feigned thoughtfulness. What a classic move. “You figured wrong. Go bother someone else.”

Irritation flickered across her features, but Felix hardly cared. He swiveled around in his bar stool again and ordered another Bourbon Sour, because at this point, he was going to need one. His disinterest in Lila couldn’t have been any clearer, but they both knew that she wasn’t going to let him go that easily. She proved that by sliding into the seat next to him with another plastered smile.

“I also came up to order another martini, but wow,” The brunette drawled, “you must really not like it here.”

Felix scoffed, downing the rest of his bourbon. She really couldn’t take no for an answer, could she? He couldn’t decide if that little trait derived from denial or stupidity. Did she think he was going to flip a switch and suddenly like her nasally voice or her sausage hair that she obviously spent way too much time styling? 

“You know..” A suggestive smile curled onto Lila’s lips as she began walking her fingers down the counter towards him. “If you’re not having a good time, I could call a cab. We can go somewhere a little more.. quiet.”

Felix snatched her hand before it could reach him, ignoring the pained gasp that she let out. He would rather sign his entire company over to Gabriel himself than go anywhere with this hag. 

He opened his mouth to retort- “Are you always this desperate or are you just that intoxicated already?” -when another voice interrupted them.

“Not to be rude, Lila, but I’m pretty sure going out with you would be more nauseating to him than drinking three shots in a row right after drinking two bottles of champagne.” 

The mysterious, raven-haired woman. Felix shot her a glance for the fifth time that evening, a mix of surprised and intrigued as to how she would know enough about Rossi to claim such a thing. (Such an accurate thing)  

The woman faced them with a small, amused smile, her chin resting on the back of her hand. All traces of her anxiety and nervousness were gone, replaced instead with confidence and smugness. It was an interesting change, but if it pulled Lila’s attention from him, he wouldn’t complain.

Lila’s body went rigid, her face flushing a deep scarlet from being called out, and she whirled around to face the woman, hands clenched at her sides. The woman stared back, silently daring the Italian to refute the statement that they both knew to be true. It was a bold gesture that was no doubt fueled by multiple, distasteful encounters. The two must know each other personally. (Her calling Lila by name was also a give-away to that fact) 

“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Lila bit off. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

The woman merely hummed, unimpressed. “Yes, I don’t think you ask for anyone’s opinion. That’s why you almost got hit with that restraining order the last time you tried flirting with one of the other models at work.”

So they work together.. that would explain the underlying tension. Felix has had plenty of unbearable coworkers. Did that mean the woman worked for the Gabriel brand, though? Why had he never heard of her before?

Lila bristled at the remark. “I- You- Ugh! Whatever!”

Furious, the brunette stormed off into the dancing crowd once again. Felix imagined she was either going to tattle to Adrien or find some other poor soul to ‘seduce’. Even so, he couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his lips. Lila unraveling like that wasn’t something he got to see often. It was a nice treat considering how his evening had been progressing. 

That said..

“Thank you, but I don’t recall asking for your help.” He told the woman. If she was mingled in with Gabriel’s business, she might know who he is, and Felix didn’t want her thinking that he owed her something simply because she’d decided to meddle in someone else’s affairs. 

Her eyes turned to him for the first time that night, sparkling light blue under the neon lights.

“No,” She mused, a softer, warmer smile playing at her lips, “I know you didn’t, and I’m sure you didn’t need it. That was kind of my own little revenge. We work together, ya know? She’s always such a pain.”

Felix hummed in agreement. That girl was definitely a thorn in anyone’s side. How she still managed to act as though she were the next big hit, he’ll never know. “Do you work for the Gabriel brand, then?”

She nodded, idly reaching up to fix the white, butterfly barrette that pinned up the left side of her bangs and hair. “Yeah, but I’m just one of the fashion designers. Not a model or anything.”

Felix let out a light scoff. She said that as though the fashion designers weren’t critical workers. Anyone can wear clothes, but fashion designers are the people who use their skills and creativity to bring life to the clothes that the models are wearing. They are severely under-appreciated, in his opinion.

And speaking of bringing life to clothes.. “Are you the one who designed that dress?”

A tinge of pink rose to her cheeks, and she smoothed out the skirt of her dress to avoid looking at him as she answered, “Yes, actually. It’s from my ‘Heroes of Paris’ collection. This was one of the dresses that I hand sewed, but Lila decided it would look better with a martini stain. I just hope I can wash it out..”

Felix glared at the crowd, remembering Lila’s comment about ordering another martini. No wonder the woman was so disgruntled about the stain. Buying a dress and ruining it was one thing, but working hard to make a dress and having someone else ruin it on purpose was another thing entirely.

“You could always sue.” He suggested as he took a swig of his freshly made Bourbon Sour. “That stain would easily count as intentional property damage to the company.”

The woman snorted and waved a dismissive hand at him. “Thanks for the idea, but it’s technically a prototype, anyway. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“It sounds like she’s the one who caused trouble.” Felix pointed out. “If you insist on letting others walk all over you, then you’re not going to go far in the fashion world.”

She pressed her lips together, seeming displeased by the statement, but tilted her head in a nod. “I suppose that’s true..”

Felix nodded as well. Of course it was true. All types of business could be brutal, but the fashion world truly was something else. Every step forward needed to be fought for viciously taken. There was no room for trivial things like mercy or kindness.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” The woman spoke again, regaining his attention, “you’re Adrien’s cousin, right? Felix Culpa?”

Felix rose a brow. Great. So she did know him. Was this where the flirting started? He should have known better than to start small talk with someone associated with Rossi. ‘Sworn Enemies’ or not.

 “That depends on which Adrien you are referring to.” He replied, subtly avoiding a straight answer.

“Adrien Agreste, of course.” She clarified. “He said he was bringing you along, but by the time I got here, I was told that you wandered off.”

Felix tisked. Of course his cousin would say that, but why would he tell her?

“Do you know him personally?”

“Well..” She twirled the tips of her hair, choosing her words carefully. “Yeah. I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging or anything, but we’ve been friends since highschool. I’ve actually been working as his personal stylist for a little under a year now.”

His personal stylist? Felix remembered reading about that somewhere.. Adrien mentioned her name at one point too while blabbing about how ‘excited’ he was for Felix’s visit. What was it again? It started with an M. Madeline? No. Margaret? Certainly not.. But it definitely had an ‘r’ somewhere. Marianne- Marie- Marin- Ah! Marinette. That’s what it was. Marinette Dupain-something.

"You’re Mlle Marinette then.” He said, a satisfied smile slipping onto his lips. Although the entirety of her last name escapes him- it definitely had a Chinese origin -he was at least able to recall her first name. That would save him the awkwardness of her knowing his name but him not knowing hers. 

The woman’s eyes widened, proving that she was, in fact, Marinette. “You know me?”

Felix nodded. “Adrien wouldn’t stop pestering me about meeting you during my visit. He insisted that you were incredible, and that we would get along fetchingly.”

Another blush, this time deeply coating her cheeks and ears. “O-Oh.. I don’t know about incredible..”

He’d expected a coy smile and a swat of the hand to join the statement, giving way to the feigned modest, or at least for her to search out more praise- “Do you think I’m incredible?” -but none of that happened. Marinette simply brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and glanced away, holding a faint, hidden smile. She was genuinely surprised by his words, and genuinely humble about them. It was.. refreshing. He didn’t socialize with people like this often.

“Does that mean you are Adrien’s cousin?” Marinette asked after a moment.

“I am,” He confirmed, seeing no reason to hide it any longer, “but I’m starting to regret it deeply. The places he’s been dragging me to have been, in a word-”

A man ran past them screaming at the top of his lungs, only to crash into something a few seconds later with a weak ‘ow’.

“-tumultuous.”

A giggle tumbled from Marinette’s lips. “I know what you mean. I’m more of a stay-at-home-and-lazily-sketch-on-the-couch kind of gal, but I couldn’t say no to Adrien. He’s been through a lot with his Father, so finally getting enough freedom to go out like this is probably a dream come true for him.”

Felix resisted the urge to scoff. Is that what Adrien’s calling this? Freedom? Because to him, it looked like his cousin was running off to places where he would not be held accountable for his actions. Granted, his misbehaviors towards anyone but his father never tended to have real consequences anyway, but there were other ways to gain freedom than choosing to associate with strangers who were steadily drinking away their inhibitions and discipline. 

“To be honest,” Marinette continued, sparing a fond glance to the crowd, “I think he gets so invested in the dancing and the hype that he sort of forgets about us. It’s like his own, unique quiet place. I’m not sure that he’d even notice if we left until he was leaving the club himself.”

Felix perked up. Oh? “Do you really think that?”

Marinette’s gaze flicked back to him, surprised and a bit embarrassed at the question. “Oh- Well -I mean, no. It was just a joke, but.. He was dancing with Kagami last time I saw him so..”

“Wonderful.” Felix breathed, getting to his feet. If Adrien wasn’t going to remember him being there, he wouldn’t remember him leaving. That meant he didn’t have to wait for Adrien to approach the bar before making his exit.

He never thought Adrien and Tsurugi would make the best match, but if them getting together is what allowed him to leave, then he would accept her into the family whole heartedly.

“Woah- wait,” Marinette stood as well, a frowned tugging at the corner of her lips. “Are you leaving?”

Felix pulled a few bills out of his pocket and placed them on the counter for payment. “I’m here as a common courtesy. If Adrien won’t be bothered to remember my presence until he can hardly walk straight, then I see no reason to stay.”

“But you can’t go!” She insisted, moving in front of him to block his path. “Adrien was so excited about you coming.”

Felix gave her a flat look. “He was excited about partying. If he actually wants to spend quality time with me, he knows my hotel residence.”

He moved to get around her, but she moved with him, this time putting a hand on his forearm to keep him still.

“You at least need to tell him you’re leaving.”

Felix stared down at her, a mix of irritated and astonished by her audacity. This woman knew he was, knew the people he was connected to, and that, should he so choose, he could probably end her career right then and there. Yet there she stood, tall and firm, ordering him to do something without so much as breaking eye contact. That’s quite the risk. 

Nevertheless, he had no intention of seeing Adrien before he left. It didn’t take a genius to realize that Felix was grasping at straws to get out of there. If he went to bid his farewells, his cousin would ask why. When Felix wouldn’t be able to come up with a valid reason other than “I hate it here”, Adrien would insist that he stay. He would probably force him to dance too, just to make sure he was ‘having a good time’. Felix, personally, didn’t want to partake in that, which left the option of fleeing without a word. It might make their upcoming photoshoot a bit difficult, but Felix was willing to push through those types of complications as opposed to these types of complications. Adrien will simply have to get over it. There was no other way out of this.

Unless..

Felix’s gaze shifted back to Marinette, a wonderfully awful idea popping into his mind.

“You said you wanted to leave here too, right?” He asked, lightly grabbing her wrist.

Marinette frowned. “What?”

Felix smirked as he spun on his heel to lead them into the crowd. “You’re going to be my ticket out of here.”

Marinette stuttered a bit while she stumbled behind him, and although he couldn’t see her face, he could hear the confusion in her voice when she asked, “Your ticket? What do you mean?”

Felix weaved through the dancing idiots and searched for golden blonde hair along with the black and red dress that Tsurugi had been wearing. If he knew his cousin- which he did -they would be somewhere near the center of the dance floor.

“You’re going to say that you're sick,” Felix explained as they walked, “and then I’ll say that I’m going to take you home. Once we’re both outside, we can part ways and actually enjoy our evening.”

“What?” Marinette blanched, tugging her wrist out of his grasp. “I’m not going to lie to Adrien!”

Felix turned around to argue when someone behind them bumped into Marinette’s back, accidentally pushing her forward. He grabbed her upper arm and pulled her up to steady her. The action brought her flush against his chest, but he was too focused on persuading her to mind the closeness.

“Don’t think of it as lying,” He said, “think of it as sparing his feelings. This way I can leave with Adrien thinking we had fun together. Would you rather I tell him that I’ve hated every second of being here?”

Marinette sighed. “Well, no-”

“Then it’s settled.” Felix replied, stepping away to bring her further into the crowd.

They found Adrien a few minutes later, and as expected, he was in the middle of the dance floor. Kagami was dancing with him, doing what looked to be a butchered version of the Tango. The two were laughing and snorting together, obviously drunk but having a good time. The sight only confirmed Felix’s belief that his presence wasn’t necessary.

Marinette started twisting her wrist in his hand again, but Felix ignored it as he pressed forward to approach the love-sick couple. If she didn’t want to get wrapped up in this, she shouldn’t have opened her mouth and forced him to come talk to Adrien before leaving.

“Adrien.” Felix called over the music, coming to a stop next to them.  

The two continued dancing, blissfully unaware of their presence.

“Adrien!” Felix tried again.

Finally, Adrien paused, looking up at them from where he’d just dipped Kagami. It took a moment for the blonde to recognize them, but once he did, he flashed them both a sloppy smile and pulled Kagami back up to talk.

“Hey, Felix!” His cousin beamed. “I haven’t seen you all night! Where have you been?”

“Sitting at the bar.” Felix replied shortly. He tugged Marinette forward, who appeared rather uncomfortable at being thrown into the spotlight. “Meeting new friends.”

Adrien lit up. “Marinette! Have you been with Felix this whole time? I knew you guys would get along great!”

Marinette offered a nervous smile, but Felix spoke before she could. No sense in letting her back out by telling Adrien that she’s having a good time or something.

“Yes, she’s a wonderful conversationalist,” He said, letting go of her wrist to put a hand on her shoulder. They needed to look casual. “But I’m afraid she’s feeling a tad out of sorts at the moment. So I’m going to take her home.”

Adrien’s grin dropped immediately, fading into concern. “You’re not feeling well?”

She faltered.  “Uhm- well-”

“It’s nothing serious.” Felix interrupted. “Just a small case of nausea. I’ve already called my driver to pick her up.”

Kagami stepped forward and placed a hand on Marinette’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm.. Are you sure you want to go home with Felix?”

“I assure you she-”

“I didn’t ask you, did I?” Kagami said sharply.

Felix narrowed his eyes. He should have known that Tsurugi would be his main obstacle. She didn’t confine herself to social etiquettes like carefully choosing one’s words in order to stay in the good graces of everyone around you. She wouldn’t hesitate to stop them if she thought Marinette didn’t want to leave with Felix. Therefore, he was going to need Marinette to confirm her desire to go, which meant she had to actively participate in this scheme. 

His gaze flicked to the ravenette, only to find her staring up at him already. She was chewing on her lip and clearly deciding what to do. Felix subtly tilted his head in her direction and raised his eyebrows. He didn’t beg for things often, but he refused to come this close to victory only for it to be ripped out from under him because somebody had a heightened conscience.

Of course, he couldn’t plead with her aloud, since Tsurugi was still burning holes into his head, but the way Marinette squirmed implied that she knew exactly what he was trying to say.

Please.

She let out a small sigh, and Felix crossed his fingers.

“..Yes.” She answered, giving Felix a rush of relief. “Yes, I want him to take me home.”

Tsurugi searched Marinette’s expression for a moment, probably looking for fear or uncertainty, before turning to Felix. She gave him another glare, one that promised death. “You better treat her properly while you have her. If I hear about anything-”

Felix rolled his eyes. He wasn’t some barbarian. “She’ll be fine. We’ll see you at the next photoshoot.”

“Text me when you guys get home!” Adrien called after them. 

Felix only gave a short nod over his shoulder before he started pushing Marinette back through the crowd. He was almost there. A few steps further, and this nightmare of a night would be over.

Felix pushed open the front door of the club and eagerly stepped outside. The cool, night air washed over him, and he drew in a deep, refreshing breath. He hadn’t realized how stuffy it was sitting in that crowd. 

“This is so wrong.” Marinette mumbled behind him. “I should have just told them the truth.”

Aaaand the moment is ruined. Felix thought with a mental sigh. He looked up to the starry skies for patience, since he still needed her to go through with this until his driver arrived. Honestly, how did a young adult such as herself get so twisted up about a little, white lie? Everyone’s done it at least once in their life, even Adrien.

“The less they know, the better.” He said. “Besides, by the time they’re done drinking, they won’t even remember our little fib.”

“But-”

“Look.” Felix cut her off, saving himself from the lecture. “We can either go inside and apologize for something they truly won’t care for.. Or we can start walking before Rossi realizes we’ve left and tries to come after us.”

Marinette’s expression soured at the mention of Lila, just like he knew it would, and she glanced back at the club.

“..Let’s get going.”

Felix followed behind her with a small, triumphant smile. Finally! He escaped that wretched place, and now he got to roam the Parisian streets instead, which was infinitely better, in his opinion. Of course, anything was better than that club- except something involving Rossi -but Parisian streets always held a certain enchantment to them. The roads were never too crowded, save for the occasional groups of tourists, and the lights lining the building casted a soft, golden glow on the pavement. Even the Eiffel Tower was covered in lights. 

Most importantly, though, Paris was quiet. Sure, there were car engines and snorting laughter, but it was faint, distant. Something he could easily ignore if he wanted. 

The setting was quite contrary to the usually dark and dreary city in which he lived, but he enjoyed the change. Strolling through a place like this helped him relax and unwind, which he desperately needed to do. Those interactions with Adrien and Lila had pushed him to his limit. 

“So what brings you to Paris?” Marinette asked curiously. “I heard you don’t visit often.”

Felix stared at the scenery a bit longer, before bringing his gaze back down to her. He didn’t necessarily feel like talking, but his ride would be there soon. He could indulge her for the moment as thanks. 

“I’m here on business for my father. I have to do a photoshoot with Adrien for extra publicity and attend some parties that are being thrown by some of our business partners.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” Marinette replied thoughtfully. “I’ve never been to a formal, business party.”

Felix heaved a sigh. “Pray that you never do. They are horribly bland, and anyone there is usually stuck too far up their rear end to have a decent conversation with.”

Marinette snorted at the comment. “They’re really that bad, huh?”

“Let’s just say that I would prefer going back to that bar as an employee than go to these business parties. At least there I can tell women to leave me alone. I swear they’ll latch onto you harder than a leach simply because they know that they can.”

A frown tugged at the corner of her lips, the previous humor of the topic slipping away as quickly as it came. “And you can’t do anything about it?”

Felix shook his head. “Not without being butchered by the press.”

“I think I’d rather be butchered..” Marinette muttered. He completely agreed. Unfortunately, snapping at the esteemed guests or possible daughter of a massive source of income for his father’s company is highly frowned upon, else Felix would have done so long ago.

“Can’t you get a consort?” She inquired. “If you had a date, that should keep the girls away, right?”

Felix almost laughed. “Escorts are normally used for pitiful old men who can’t get dates by themselves. An escort for myself would simply be foolish, and it would hardly deter any of the other women.”

Marinette hummed. She was thinking really hard about this, wasn’t she?

“Why don’t you ask one of your friends to pretend to be your girlfriend?” She suggested. “If they thought you were dating someone, it shouldn’t be nearly as frowned upon to reject the other women openly.”

Felix clicked his tongue. “A tempting thought, but there’s one flaw.”

“Which is?”

“I don’t have any friends.” He informed her. “None that I could ask to perform such a roll, that is.”

The only female friends he had were his mother and Allegra, and Allegra was about to be married to Claude. Any other acquaintances he had were co-workers. One can imagine how that conversation would go. 

“Excuse me, can you pretend to be my significant other because I wouldn’t actually want to date you in real life, but I need oxygen to live?” 

Not ideal. 

Aside from that, pretending to be in a relationship is something that can easily get out of hand. The position of power that his ‘girlfriend’ would be put in is not something Felix is willing to risk. She would be able to say anything about him, true or false, and the press would accept it as fact because they were ‘dating’. No thank you.

“Oh..” Marinette said softly. “I guess that does kind of ruin it, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed it does.” Felix agreed. “But if you get any more bright ideas, please, don’t hesitate to share. I’m all ears.” 

Marinette shot him a look, as though she might smack him for the remark, but instead she glanced back down at the sidewalk. 

Then she said something that forever changed the events of his visit.

“..What if I became your fake girlfriend?”

Felix nearly tripped over himself at the comment. He must have misheard her, right? No sane person would suggest that so casually. They were complete strangers, after all. How was he supposed to know if he could trust her? Better yet, would she be able to play the part if he did?

“I-It was just a thought!” She added hastily, noticing his baffled expression. “You don’t have to agree or anything. I just know how it is to be pushed into uncomfortable positions..”

Felix rose a brow. “While your.. generosity is appreciated, I don’t think you would be a good fit. You couldn’t even lie about being sick tonight without almost collapsing from guilt. What makes you think you can lie to an entire ballroom’s worth of people?”

Marinette pressed her lips into a thin line, her anxiety easily shifting to frustration. She put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes into a glare as she said, “I did not almost collapse, and that was different. I was lying to a close friend for a personal, selfish reason. This time I’d be lying to help you get away from gold diggers.”

Felix hummed. Yes, that made perfect sense. Forgive him for being ignorant about the fact that lying was somehow morally correct in one situation but condemning in another.

“So what’s in it for you?”

Marinette’s brows knitted together. “Oh.. uhm.. I just thought it would help you out, but.. I guess I could show off my designs? Working with Gabriel has been a good start, but if I wear them at the parties, maybe they’ll get more popular?”

Felix tilted his head back and forth as he assessed her answer. An exchange of peace for an exchange of popularity. He could work with that. “But are you sure you can pull it off? As I said before, the women there aren’t easily swayed. You might have to pull some scandalous stunts to dissuade them.”

Marinette scoffed and crossed her arms. “Please. You think I won’t get my hands dirty if I need to?”

Felix shrugged. “Again. You were the one who couldn’t lie about being sick.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You’re never going to let go of that now, are you?”

“Well, it is a bit telling of your nature.”

“I’m taking that as a compliment.” She retorted. “Anyway, how scandalous are we talking? I assumed holding hands was a given, and most likely side hugging too. Did you expect us to do something more intimate than that?”

Felix slowed his pace to a stop and looked at her. “Of course. That’s why I asked if you were prepared.”

Wariness began creeping into her expression. “Okay.. then how intimate do you plan on getting?”

“Well,” Felix began, taking a step towards her, “we need to look deeply in love at best. There might be some extremes that I’ll need you to play along with. Say, for example, the hugging isn’t convincing them.”

Felix stepped forward again, causing Marinette to take a step back. He followed her, step after step, until her back touched the brick wall of a closed flower shop.

“Everyone’s watching,” He continued, setting his arm against the wall next to her, “waiting to see what we’ll do to prove we’re legitimate. Would you be willing to do what it takes?”

A blush bloomed across her freckled cheeks, but she shot him a skeptical look despite. “I doubt they’d be rude enough to insist we kiss in order to prove our ‘relationship’.”

Felix smirked. “No, but it would be implied and whispered of. Those are the same as speaking aloud when it comes to business parties.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“And that’s a ‘no’.” Felix replied, pushing himself back up and away from her. He hadn’t expected her to do anything, but it was a tad disappointing knowing that he couldn’t use her idea. Having the women hovering around him instead of crushing him would have been nice-

Marinette grabbed the collar of his light blue, button-up shirt, stopping Felix in his tracks. She gave him a small glare, and before he could ask what she was doing or what she wanted, the ravenette yanked him downwards, crushing their lips together. 

Felix sucked in a breath, admittedly shocked, but he certainly didn’t pull away. No, he pulled her closer, cupping her cheek and deepening the kiss that she’d started. Marinette hummed slightly at the reciprocation and tilted her head to catch his lips fully. Her arms snaked up from his collar to around his neck, her dainty fingers raking through his hair. 

Felix let out a soft moan, but just as he was about to wrap his arm around her waist, Marinette broke the kiss. She put a hand on his chest, gently pushing him away, and met his gaze with lidded eyes.

Oh, if he thought her eyes were blues before..

“I’m not sure why we’d have to ‘prove ourselves’ like this,” She muttered, “but I think I’ve proven that I’m more than capable of pulling it off if necessary.”

Felix brushed his thumb over his lips, wiping away some of the ruby red lipstick that she’d left on him. 

“Mlle Marinette,”  He said, only just managing to keep from looking at her sweet, soft lips, now swollen slightly from the kiss, “I believe we have ourselves a deal.”

This fake relationship thing might work out, after all.

[athenadione]

pizza and feverish confessions

No one:

Me: DID SOMEONE SAY WHUMP

Okay so it’s only light whump, with an emphasis on comfort. Will I go to the grave believing that Damian is a big softie when it comes to sick Raven? Absolutely. 

Words: 3,909

Rated: G it’s all appropriate... this time ;)

Pairing: DamiRae

Click Here to read on A03

It starts out with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the back of her head. A little dizzying, but not enough to disrupt her equilibrium, so she brushes the feeling aside and chalks it up to a flare of her empathy. Throwing up a few mental shields to keep the plethora of auras at bay, she continues walking down the street with the rest of her teammates, nearing Pizza Corner. 

A popular hotspot for locals, they have to request seating ahead of time so that the employees can prepare for a visit from the Titans. It’s always a daunting task to go out in public. The employees have to barricade a spot near the back of the restaurant for them to eat in peace, and constantly combat the flow of customers that walk in all for the chance to meet them. Obviously, they don’t do it often. The sheer amount of work it takes for them to dine-in never takes less than an hour. But today Gar insisted, and Kori can be a sucker for cute, green kittens; So naturally, they made a reservation. 

The restaurant is already buzzing with activity by the time they turn the corner, still about a block away. Hosts and waitresses are shuffling people out and the crowd is growing considerably, all looking for a chance to get an autograph or picture with a Titan. They’re used to all the chanting and the yelling, but today it bothers her a bit. Already she can feel a tension headache blooming just behind her eyes, and she resists the urge to rub at her temples with her fingers. Maybe she stayed up reading too late last night.

She says nothing about her ailment and continues walking, appearing unaffected to everyone that doesn’t know what to look for in her face- a light grimace tugging at the corners of her mouth, and eyes that flutter shut a moment longer than necessary. 

A few employees jog out to escort them the rest of the way, and Kori thanks them warmly, resting a hand on one of the men’s shoulders. The way the man looks back at Kori can make any woman mad with envy. Complete, undivided attention and adoration. Really, she can imagine literal red hearts leaping outwards from the pupils of his eyes accompanied by the loud sound of an ahooga horn. It nearly makes her snort, but instead she arches a delicate brow. With a reminder to herself to watch less Cartoon Network, she allows herself to be ushered into the building by another employee. 

When she feels the brush of a well defined chest against the length of her arm after stepping inside it takes her a moment to realize it’s Damian. He must have stayed close behind her from the way he’s angled his body, shielding her from view. She remembers a time when his body wouldn’t even be able to take up half the space of the door. Now, at twenty two, he can easily provide coverage from the crowd- which she’s certainly grateful for. One would think after nearly a decade of superhero experience she’d be used to the publicity. Reluctantly, she admits that she’ll probably always be a little uneasy when it comes to large crowds. 

“Beast Boy, stop flirting and get in here!” Jaime is seen tugging on the Changeling’s arm, practically dragging him in the diner. Gar comes begrudgingly with promises to the horde of females surrounding him to come back later for pictures. The foray of giggles that is heard a few seconds after leads Raven to believe that he’s said something else that’s borderline inappropriate, and from Damian’s eye roll she knows that he heard exactly what it was. 

“Come on Beetle, I was this close to getting that blonde chick’s phone number!” Gar laments, rather dramatically Raven thinks, and continues his protests all the way to the door. 

“Hurry up you two, we’re ready to be seated.” Kori says, shooting Gar a glance, the warning to behave clear in her eyes. Raven admits that she’s impressed when Gar doesn’t immediately shrink back like he used to. 

“Sorry Star.” He mumbles, letting Jaime pull him past both her and Damian to follow behind Kori. Raven watches them a moment, willing the dull throb in her head to ebb, but it doesn’t cease. A light frown crosses her features when she realizes that she’ll likely need to meditate an extra hour today for the pain to subside. And perhaps take a few ibuprofen.

Behind her, Damian steps around her and lowers his gaze to meet her eyes. “Raven, are you okay?” He asks, touching her arm lightly. “You have a headache?” 

Raven blinks, the only evidence of her surprise that Damian had been able to read her so well. But then she remembers that they’ve been teammates for years, and of course he would be able to tell, just as she can tell that the lilt in his tone is concern, not annoyance. 

“Yeah.” She breathes and closes her eyes again. “I’m okay, I just need to meditate when we get back to the tower.” 

When she opens her eyes again she sees him press his lips together and narrow his eyes like he doesn’t believe her and he’s definitely going to argue with her...but to her relief he says nothing, just gestures to the large booth where the others are already seated. 

“Come on, the sooner we eat the sooner we can leave.” 

She nods lightly, aware of how the movement heightens the pain of her headache, and turns to walk to where Kori is waving for them. Then Damian places a hand to her lower back and begins to guide her through the clearest pathway to the booth, unaware of the light blush heating her cheeks. Even after all this time she still hasn't gotten the courage to admit to herself what the pang in her chest is when he does little things like that. 

Shoving back emotions that she refuses to interpret, she focuses her attention on the booth ahead of them, giving Kori a shrug when she sends her a curious look. 

“Man they always have the best veggie pizzas. I wish I could eat here everyday.” Gar states to no one in particular. Jaime takes offense, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “How can anyone come here and eat vegetarian pizza? That should be considered felonious.” 

“For once, I’d have to agree with Beast Boy.” Damian tells them both, stepping up to the booth first, then he reaches out with an open hand for her to take it. His hand is cool, contradicting the heat that she’s feeling from her headache. He gestures for her to step into the booth first and she scoots beside Jaime. Then he follows behind, effectively closing her in. 

“Are you serious? Did everyone hear that?” Gar’s eyes widen in excitement, and he jumps in his seat, nearly sloshing his drink. “I want this in writing.” 

“Don’t get used to it.” Damian quips back, eyes scanning the menu. The pout that Gar sends him makes Raven smile, mildly amused at the way his canines protrude over his upper lip. 

Any plea that may have come from Gar’s mouth is silenced when the wait staff swoop in to get their orders. As quickly as they left, they come back with her and Damian’s drinks, and they are already set to make their pizza. Fast and succinct, the waist staff pride themselves on their service, and they deserve a considerable tip for the effort they’ve already given to allow them all to eat here. She makes a mental note to mention that to Kori when there’s a light itching in the back of her throat, and she takes a few sips of her water to combat it. 

Conversations between her teammates continue, and Raven’s content to remain silent and listen to their banter, leaning back into the cool upholstery of the booth. The haziness in her mind grows, accompanied by a lightheadedness that makes her breathe deep, repeating her mantra to focus. In one corner, she finds a tear in the mahogany leather. Eyes beginning to glaze over, the longer she stares at it, the more black dots begin to swim along her vision. 

At some point she vaguely recognizes Dick’s voice across the restaurant, joining them in his Nightwing suit. The joy she feels bubbling from Kori’s aura is enough to bring her back to the present, vision now clear, and she sees Dick slide in beside the Tamaranean. Everyone shifts to make room and Raven’s thigh brushes Damian’s when it’s her turn to scoot over. 

“Hey guys, how’s it going?” Dick asks the entirety of the table. There’s a series of replies, each ranging from a curt “Fine,” to “I’d be better if I had my pizza right about now,” to a bemoaned “Thanks a lot Nightwing! It was already hard enough getting phone numbers with Robin around, now it’ll be impossible!” 

Raven just nods in greeting, knowing that Dick won’t consider her silence as rude. Something she’s thankful for. Dick takes it all in stride as he always does, and he easily fits in with their group dynamic, bantering back and forth with Gar and Jaime all the while shooting the occasional tease to Kori. He even manages to make Damian smile once or twice- a considerable feat to accomplish. 

Eventually they all settle down again and her eyes begin to feel bleary once more. This time a light shiver follows all the way up her spine, and she barely contains the shudder that threatens to wrack through her body. It does cause her to lightly brush against Damian’s thigh again though, and she’s very aware of his keen, inquiring eyes on her. Looking up, she sees the question in his gaze. 

And she wants to put the concern she feels in his aura at ease, but at this point the ache in her head has pretty much developed into a migraine, and any jarring movement sends her head spinning, so she just gives him a small smile, if a bit forced. And as much as she’d rather go home and lay down in the dark, everyone’s having a good time, and they don’t get to go on public outings often together. She doesn’t want to ruin it by cutting their trip short. Besides, she’s been through much worse.

Even so, when their pizza finally arrives Raven only picks at hers, taking a few small bites for show, but her migraine is starting to make her feel nauseous, and the itch in her throat is scratchy, making it uncomfortable to swallow. 

After a while, a heat begins to sizzle over her skin even as she’s bundled in her thickest cloak. Beside her, Jaime is arguing with Gar over which pizza is the best on the menu. It escalates to a point where Gar begins to point out how many slices of each kind of pizza everyone’s been eating until he gets to her own plate. 

“What’s wrong Rae, you don’t like your pizza? You love pepperoni.” Gar pipes up from across the table, a piece of veggie pizza in one hand and a crumpled napkin in another. His brows are drawn together in disapproval when she follows his eyes to her plate. Only one slice of the two that she had taken from the pepperoni and cheese pie in the middle of the table is half eaten. 

Aware of everyone’s eyes on her, she feigns nonchalance as she fights back another shiver. “Yeah, I do. It’s good.” She swallows, then takes another sip of her water to moisten her throat, looking back down at her plate. “I guess I just don’t have much of an appetite today.” 

Beside her, Damian narrows his eyes and turns in the booth to observe her blatantly, ignoring Dick and Kori’s curious glances. Feeling a bit self-conscious under his intense stare, Raven wraps her fingers inside her cloak, pulling it tighter around her body. His eyes sweep her figure pensively, then rest back onto her face, taking in the glazed expression on her face. 

After a few more moments he crosses his arms and gives her a reprimanding glare. “You’re getting sick.” He deadpans.

Immediately words of denial bubble up her throat, still conscious of everyone’s attention. “I am not. I’m fine.” She says, and as punishment the pain in her headache blossoms tenfold right at the base of her skull. 

Despite the clouding in her mind she can still feel the brush of Damian’s aura, a tinge of both worry and frustration lapping at her empathy. “Tch. You’re a horrible liar and this is ridiculous.” He vaguely motions at the table they’re sitting at. “You shouldn’t be forcing yourself through lunch when you’re feeling unwell.” 

The others voice similar echoes of concern with promises that she shouldn’t feel guilty for staying, and Raven sighs because this is what she has been trying to avoid. She waves off their concerns. “I’m okay, really. Let’s just enjoy the rest of lunch okay? I’m fine.” She repeats. 

“I think we’re all ready to go back anyway, right guys?” Kori asks before Damian can argue with her further, looking at Jaime and Gar. Together they nod and begin to shuffle as one when Kori and Dick step out- Dick leaving the group entirely with the check in his hand. 

Guilt swells in Raven’s chest, knowing how much the team had looked forward to being together on a relatively calm day like this, which is so very rare. “Wait, Star.” She winces as the raspiness grows in her voice. “You said you wanted to go to the mall first, we still have plenty of time.” Kori’s been wanting to go for weeks now. 

Scooting out of the booth to follow her teammates takes more effort than she’d like to admit, but Damian hovers close by, taking her elbow and helping her step down. His gloved hand around her arm is much colder this time, causing a shudder that she can’t contain anymore.

Standing is not a good idea, Raven thinks. Her legs wobble and she locks her knees to stop them from shaking, and gods why is it suddenly so hot in here? She completely misses the first half of Kori’s response. 

“...and besides, the dress I want to buy will still be there the next time I go.” 

The world tilts on its axis, or rather Raven tilts, taking the world with her when she takes a step. The sudden lightheadedness she feels is so overwhelming she doesn’t even notice that Damian still hasn’t let go of her arm.

Someone within the vicinity of her incapacitated hearing begins to speak. Is it Gar? His voice sounds so far away now and her movements feel sluggish. There’s a light ringing in her ears that increases in tune with the pounding of her head, and through it all she feels that she’s broken out in a light sweat. 

“Raven?” She looks through bleary eyes to see Damian’s face contorted with alarm. It makes her want to reach out and cup his face because he’s normally so stoic, and the worry creases above his brows don’t suit him at all. What would he do if she reached up on her tip-toes to kiss them until they receded? 

She never gets the chance to find out, because the black specks dancing at the edge of her peripherals fill her vision all too quickly, and before she’s able to take another step forward her knees buckle, falling into Damian’s arms as swiftly as she falls into unconsciousness. 

“Oh my god, Raven!” 

.

She’s not fully conscious when she catches hints of low whispers near her, nearly drowned out by the beep of a machine next to her ears. Groaning softly, her senses are overcome with the aching in her leg muscles, and how hot her skin feels against the sheets she’s tucked underneath. A shiver wracks her body and she involuntarily curls into herself on the bed she’s in. Cords follow her body, attached to the pulse oximeter that she briefly notices is on her finger, along with an I.V. in her arm. 

Faintly, she hears the sound of the t.v. playing in the background. She thinks it’s Scooby Doo. Either someone had turned it on for her when she woke, or Gar’s been in this room recently. Nonetheless, it’s enough to make her realize with mild amusement that she reminded herself to watch less Cartoon Network, not more. 

But that amusement is short-lived when there’s a dip in the bed, the movement making her moan as the aching in her legs heightens, and she opens her eyes hazily.

It takes her a few seconds to focus on the figure beside her. “Dami…?” She croaks and immediately regrets speaking from the sharp pain in the back of her throat. “Ah..hurts.”

Luckily Damian isn’t one for small talk and he just rubs her upper arm lightly. “I know, don’t speak.” He says gently, “You have strep throat and the flu. Your fever got worse overnight.” 

Damian presses something cold and wet to her forehead, and she sighs in reprieve as it soothes her heated flesh. Her eyes flutter shut once more and she’s already drifting off to sleep, barely hearing his next words. “Get some rest habibti. I’m here.” The darkness takes her under, and this time she welcomes it. 

.

The next time she wakes she thinks she must be delirious. 

Damian is mere inches away from her, pressing his lips to her temple in a light kiss, and whispering something to her in his native tongue. 

If she wasn’t so sick then this would be heaven- waking up to his soft kisses. And maybe it still is in her own mind, because she’s honestly not sure if this is real. 

A wave of nausea disrupts that train of thought and it courses through her stomach. She shoots upwards into a sitting position, head spinning. And she must’ve done this before because a small trash can is placed directly under her mouth as soon as she sits up, and she grasps at it weakly, vomiting up bile. Hands gather her hair gently at her nape, holding it back for her as she continues retching. Then she’s just dry heaving for a few minutes after there’s nothing left to throw up, and her stomach twinges achingly. 

Someone starts rubbing soothing circles at her back and cooing into her ear, and she finally has the energy to glance back, recognizing those familiar emerald orbs that look back down at her in sympathy. When it’s clear that she’s finished he takes the trash can and places it next to her bed, within reaching distance. Gratefully taking the hand towel from his outstretched hand to wipe her mouth, she wonders if she should feel mortified at the fact that he’s seeing her in this state, but another shiver wracking through her body halts that train of thought too. 

“Raven?” She must’ve spaced out at some point because she’s now leaning back against the fortress of pillows that have been fluffed for her, and Damian is hovering above her. 

He reaches out an ungloved hand and tucks a stray hair behind her ear, and she wishes she had the courage to ask him to keep stroking her hair like that. “How are you feeling?” He asks her. 

She just shakes her head, not trusting her mouth to speak. Also, her throat feels raw after vomiting. The lingering taste of bile makes her grimace.

“Try to sit up for me, you need to hydrate.” He calls out softly and she wonders how she didn’t notice the glass of water in his hand before. Bracing shaky palms into the mattress, she manages to pull herself up enough to earn a hum of praise. A straw makes its way to her mouth and she accepts it without argument, knowing from the set of his jaw that if she tried to she would certainly lose. The few sips she’s able to stand helps ebb the burning sensation in her throat, and Damian encourages her to take a few more. Then, she’s shaking her head and pushing away the glass. He relents, murmuring his approval. Soft, low tones. “Good. That’s good, Raven.” A hand threads through her hair again and she leans into his touch, taking the small comfort he’s offering despite how out of character it is for him to be so...intimate. 

The soft, rhythmic brush of his fingers through her hair distracts her from the ache in her legs, and the dull throb of her headache. It helps tether her to consciousness enough to open her eyes more clearly and see the gentleness in his gaze as he watches her. 

When she opens her mouth to speak her tongue feels like cotton, but she continues anyway. “You...don’t have to stay.” Her voice sounds like she’s been screaming in terror for hours until finally succumbing to an unbearable torture, and she winces at how pathetic it must sound to him too. 

He just shushes her and continues threading his hand through her hair. “I’ll leave if you insist, but I’d rather stay...if that’s alright.” 

All she can do is nod. They fall into a comfortable silence, which Raven cherishes. Damian’s always seemed to know when silence is needed, and he gives it to her often. Having him here, helping her while she’s in such a vulnerable state sends another sensation through her chest, filling her with a different kind of warmth. Not the kind of feverish, sweaty, and boiling heat that’s bogged down her mind the past couple of days (It’s been a few days right? Truthfully she doesn’t really know). But it’s a warmth that slowly spreads throughout her entire being, pouring over into her soul that leaves a light tingling in its wake. It’s stronger than anything she’s ever felt before and it swells in her throat until it formulates into words, spilling out of her mouth before she can stop it. 

“I love you.” 

Another shiver reverberates through her body, and the combined ache of her muscles and persistent fever takes her back under- so much so that she doesn’t even realize the significance of what she just said. She just knows that it makes Damian give her a smile that she’s never seen before. One that softens every feature in his face, and lights his eyes in such a way that mesmerizes her through the fogginess of her affliction.

“I know.” He says in a hushed timbre, leaning down to press his lips to her hairline- an act that makes her sigh in content, despite her dazed state. “I love you too.” 

He stays with her, fingers playing languidly with the strands of her hair as he murmurs into her ear- a mixture of both their common language and arabic, and she clings to the gentle undertone of his words, relishing in this new, welcoming warmth that’s now unfurling all the way down to her toes. She continues to listen to his voice as it lulls her back gently into unconsciousness.

And she knows that he’ll be there when she wakes up again, just as surely as she now knows in her heart that she loves him. 

And he loves her back.

[lina-lovebug]

Somebody That I Used To Know

Bucky Barnes x Mutant! Fem! Reader! x Logan Howlett

"You okay?"

As much as you wanted to say you were fine, that possibly seeing Logan again wouldn't do anything to you, you knew you couldn't lie. Logan hurt you emotionally that day, so much that it took yourself ten years to recover.

But now you have a loving husband by your side - you're not alone anymore, and he always made sure that he always knew your pain.

"I'll try to be," You admitted as he curled his fingers with yours.

"It's been so long."

"He's probably a crippling old man by now," Bucky joked, knowing that your healing factor was the only thing keeping you young.

But also knew it went the same way for Logan.

"Then you must be dating the oldest woman of the century," You joked, feeling the nerves starting to slip away until the elevator dinged.

Professor X came in, then Mystique, then Beast, and then. . .Logan. You immediately objected to working with the X-Men, but Fury and Tony were surprisingly working together for once on this. They wanted to make sure we knew of all the heroes we could so that we can call on eachother if something happens.

"(Y/N), it's been too long, dear. How have you been?" Proffessor immediately greeted you.

"I've been great. How's the school?" You asked, trying to avoid the obvious eyes staring at you.

"Growing better every year. You can always come by and visit, it's your home too."

"Did you get married?!" Mystique burst out, making your heart jump once you realized that Logans eyes were now on your hand.

"It was a bit rushed with everything going on, but yes. Raven, Professor, Henry, Logan, this is my husband, Bucky," You proudly introduced Bucky to everyone, who's hand was wrapped around yours.

"Sargeant Barnes, it's an honor to meet you," Henry immediately shook his hand, admiring his metal arm, "Oh wow, that's Vibranium, isn't it? This is incredible work. Oh, is Dr. Banner here?"

"Slow your roll, bub, we're here for a meeting. This isn't a convention," Logan finally spoke up, and you merely glanced at him. Of course he hadn't aged, and you hated that he looked back at you. You hated how he still had that longing look in his eye because you would enjoy it if he never left you. If he never broke your heart.

"I have way too many questions. How'd you guys meet?" Raven asked, and since you had an hour to spare, you decided why not.

But Bucky spoke first.

"HYDRA didn't want to let me go, so I was on the run. Steve and (Y/N) wouldn't give up on me, they knew that I had been framed for the murder of King T'Chaka. I guess we officially met when I knocked you off the building," Bucky said nonchalantly.

"Wait, no," You realized, "I attacked you that night with Fury, by using the vines that grew on the rooftop to hold you down, but you broke out of them and kicked me in the stomach."

"Oh, yeah! I didn't really remember that. But, she always advocated for my innocence and I remember during the car chase, I couldn't stop staring at you because I had never seen a woman so beautiful and strong," Bucky smiled at you, to which you felt your cheeks become warm. Even after two years, he still managed to get you flustered.

"And then you fell off the motorbike."

You saw Logan out of the corner of your eye, just rolling his eyes and looking around the Avengers headquarters, trying to pay attention to anything else.

"He only made a move when we were in Wakanda. I stayed to make sure he was going to be okay, and I wanted to get to know him better. We were in his hut and just talking about his life before Winter Soldier, and he asked to kiss me," Even during the 21st century and a man wanted for homicide, he was still a gentleman and wanted to make sure you were comfortable before making any moves.

"That's so cute! You guys just sound like you're made for eachother," Raven fawned over the both of you.

"I'm happy that you've found someone to be with, (Y/N). You both seem very happy together," Professor knew your history with Logan, but only knowing James for a few minutes, he saw just how deserving you were of this love and how genuinely happy he made you.

____

After the meeting, Stark offered them to stay the night and a few days to check out our facilities and as happy as you were to catch up with Raven, you didn't want to be alone with Logan.

Which is what happened.

You got up at two a.m. to get a quick snack and a drink, and just as you were gonna go back to bed, you turned to see Logan standing a few feet away from you.

"Hey," You muttered.

"So, you've been here all this time?" He asked.

"Yeah, just helping the world and. . .stuff," It was awkward, especially when Logan got closer and you kept your robe tight around you.

"Can he even control that thing?" Logan questioned, referring to Buckys arm.

"He can control it just fine because it's apart of himself," You insisted with a bite in your tone.

"He doesn't get nightmares?"

"Atleast he's doing something to help himself," Logan was taken aback by your tone, but understood why you'd be angry.

"I hope you know that I'm not going back, Logan. I'm happy here, and I'm happy with Bucky," You summed up.

"And yet you act like him beating you was so normal."

Your eyes widened, "He couldn't stop himself! He was brainwashed, under control by HYDRA. You know what? I don't have to explain shit to the boy who couldn't even get help for himself," and rushed past him.

But he grabbed your arm, "(Y/N), I'm sorry. I'm sorry for leaving you-"

"You shouldn't be sorry for leaving me," You cut him off, making him loosen his grip on you, "you should be sorry for letting yourself wallow in your own guilt, in your own self hatred, and for abandoning me thinking I was going to be able to pick myself up at the end of it. For not getting help. Logan, I. . .I know that I still care about you, but the love I had for you is long gone. I'm not sorry for falling in love with Bucky. I'm only sorry that you thought you could have me back."

With that, you walked away and Logan felt it all just crumble. Instead of fighting someone to get help and pleading for them to stay, you found someone who knew he needed help and was working to be better, and who was going to stay through all the hard trials.

You found better.

You found Bucky.

[nanasparadise]

“Paradise lost” Yan!Bruno x female reader

Hiya everyone! This is my first fanfiction, I hope you enjoy it 🥺

Summary: You live a pleasant and regular life as a curator in Naples, until a certain over-protective Capo turns it upside down...

TW: alcohol, drugs, stalking, cursing, noncon touching, mentions of violence and death, toxic relationship, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any type of yandere behaviour in real life.

You were living in a paradise. Your paradise. After having moved to Italy, you were finally able to lead the life of your dreams. The city of Naples with its gentle sea breeze, the vivid streets and the ancient architecture just felt right to you. Not to mention the people; you've met some of the most supporting individuals. Your friends helped you integrate in Italy and gave you some Italian classes in order to improve your, admittedly, quite basic Italian skills. Your job as a curator in an art museum fulfilled your passion. Your small, but very cozy flat felt as if it was sculpted for you. Even after having spent nearly a year in the city, you never regretted your decision to move there. That was until you met a certain peculiar man, who would change your whole life forever.

You spent the night at the bar with Analisa and Federico, your two closest friends. The trio consisting of you were a bit tipsy, because of one too many drinks. The intoxication offered you lots of fun though, as you were constantly laughing at the slightest things. At 4 a.m., you were finally shooed out of the pub by the annoyed owner. The three of you went outside of the bar. You inhaled gladly the cool night air, which put you a bit back to your senses. Your friends, on the other hand, remained tipsy while constantly gigglying and grinning. Analisa and Federico suggested to go back to their place, where they might continue enjoying the night with some pills. You smiled at them, but declined. Drugs weren't really up your alley. 

"Aww, come on Y/N!", Analisa pouted, "it will be fun!"

"No thanks, you guys. You know how I feel about drugs", you replied patiently. 

"Should we take you home, then?", Federico asked, forehead frowned in worries, "You know it can be dangerous out here all alone with the whole mafia." 

"I'll be fine, thank you. You should be more worried for the guys with my Krav Maga skills!", you joked, trying to ease your friend's concerns, “and by the way, you two better be careful with your pills!"

After having hugged them goodbye, you parted ways with your friends. The streets of Naples were mostly quiet. In the distance, you heard fainlty some music from a club. A few stray cats roamed in the shadows, watching you with their predatory eyes. Admitteldy, it made you feel a tad uncomfortable. "Stop it", you muttered to yourself, "Don't let a few cats play tricks on you." Still captured by the felines' gaze, you accidentally stumbled over the pavement. Before you could actually hit the floor, as you anticipated, a strong hand caught your upper arm and hindered the fall. You looked up to your saviour to thank them. It was a rather unusual man. He wore a unique white suit with black spoon-like dots on it and zippers and his black hair was cut in a bob. But what you noticed the most were his deep, ocean blue eyes, which stared back at you with concern. Even though he seemed rather strange, the man's whole atmosphere drew you in. As you kept contemplating him, a sudden thought crossed your mind. "Where did he come from so quickly? I didn't see anyone in the street", you pondered. The thought made you shiver slightly. Realising that you still shamelessly stared at the man, you decided to finally speak up. 

"Thank you for catching me, I guess I had one too many", you said humoursly to him, trying to relax the tense ambience. The handsome guy offered you a smile to your relief. 

"No need to thank me, signorina", he answered cheekily. Something about him calling you "Miss" didn't feel right to you. After all, you were a grown adult and not some teenage girl. 

"No really, thank you, I could have hurt me", you insisted politely. The man still held your arm. You were eyeing uncomfortably to it, hoping he would catch the hint. Luckily, he did so and retrieved his warm hand from your body. The man cleared awkwardly his throat and continued speaking.

"Are you alright though? It is dangerous to walk at night the streets in Naples, especially for a young lady." His worry for you was quite flattering, you admitted to yourself. 

"I am fine, thanks to you", you winked at him. You could swear his cheeks turned slightly pink, but because of the darkness, you couldn't be entirely sure. 

"May I accompany you home?", the man asked, "It would ease my mind if I knew you arrived home safely." You weren't sure how to react. Sure, he was beautiful, but did you really want a stranger to know where you lived? 

"Thank you for your kind offer, but my flat isn't far away, I will be there in a minute", you replied carefully. After all, Federico was right: there were many mafiosi in Naples, maybe he was one of them? Your suspicions towards him increased. The man seemed to feel your paranoia. He flashed you a reassuring smile that would have made every woman swoon over him. 

"I understand your suspiciousness fully,” he said smoothly, "but I do think it is not necessary in this case. If I wanted to cause you any harm, I'd have it done by now. After all, this is a quiet and dark street and no one would have witnessed anything." "Fair enough", you thought. He was right. He could have easily murdered you by now if he wanted to. And there was nothing harmful about letting him follow you, right? 

"Well, if you put it that way, then sure, I'd like that", you answered with a soft smile. You shouldn't have agreed. Oh Y/N, if only you knew, you would have went with your friends. Instead, you went home, the stranger remaining by your side. "By the way, I don't think I introduced myself. My name is Y/N." 

"Pleasure to meet you, Y/N, I am Bruno."

Slowly, the two of you became friends. Bruno turned out to be a loyal and charming man. Being the ever so polite gentleman, you didn’t have a clue about the raven-haired man’s true intentions. Oh no, you were blissfully ignorant to his advances. In fact, he knew you before that fateful night. The capo - you didn’t actually know his real job as he kept smoothly tip-toeing around it - had been chasing an enemy Stand user in the art museum where you worked when his attentive gaze had fallen on your form. You had explained patiently to an elderly couple every little detail of the Veiled Christ statue. In that moment, Bruno hadn’t known why he had stopped just to stare at you. Maybe it was the way you had treated the couple with kindness, maybe the way your eyes had lit up with passion as you had talked about the subject that fascinated you. Bruno still wasn’t sure what exactly enchanted him when it came to you. All he was aware of was the fuzzy warmth in his stomach and his racing heartbeat whenever he glanced at you. And that he would never let go of that feeling. So, the young mafioso started following you from that day on. He wouldn’t necessarily call it stalking, he just wanted to make sure that you were alright. And look where it had led him to - if he hadn’t been there to watch over you, you would have hurt yourself, which Bruno couldn’t let happen, of course. He was convinced that you needed him in your life. The following months since the Italian man had been by your side, you were in total safety. 

But you also felt ultimately caged in. You were grateful for Bruno’s friendship, but it also smothered you. Every time you were trying to go out with your friends, he would ask about every tiny detail: where were you going, who did come with you, what were you doing and so on. Eventually, he’d always join you. 

“Cara,” he would say with pleading eyes, “I only want to protect you. The world is a dark place and Naples is its hell. I don’t want to witness how anyone takes advantage of your sweet innocence.”

“Somehow he always knows when I go out with them, too”, you wondered. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that the two of you were dating. Bruno did behave like an overly jealous and possessive boyfriend. Plus, he always acted super touchy and affectionate around you: a pet name here, an arm around your shoulders there. Every time you confronted him, he would laugh it off. “I guess I am bewitched by you, tesoro.” All of this made you feel uncomfortable. Still, you didn’t want to lose your friendship. So you kept quiet most of the time. 

Until one day, you talked to Analisa and told her about it. For once, you needed some other friend than Bruno to listen to you, someone who wouldn’t act like a partner around you. Luckily, you knew for a fact that he would be gone this evening due to his mysterious profession he never mentioned to you. So, you invited Analisa over to your flat to vent. The blue-haired woman listened attentively to your lamentations. The words just spilt out of your mouth until you realised you actually started crying. Analisa held you in her arms and tried to calm you down. “Hey, Y/N, it’s fine. he’s not around”, she kept repeating. Eventually, your sobs died slowly until you were left staring at Analisa puffy-eyed. “If I allow myself to share my piece of mind,” Analisa said angrily, “he is a pezzo di merda. Who does he think he is to behave like that? You’re not his girlfriend, and even if you were, he doesn’t have the right to treat you like you are his possession. You can do whatever the fuck you want.” Her furious words filtered through your brain. “She’s right”, you agreed silently. “And you know what else? I hate to see you down because of that asshole,”  Analisa continued, “But I’ve just got the perfect solution for that.” The blue-haired woman grinned as she took some small pills out of the pocket of her leather jacket. “Let’s have some fun, shall we?”

At first you weren’t sure about taking the hallucinogens, since you never took drugs before. But for once, just for once, you wanted to escape reality. When did your little paradise turn into hell? You thought, you valued your friendship with Bruno, but now, all you wanted to do was to run away from him. The drug slowly started to kick in as you felt your head spinning. The dizziness made you feel light, as if you were about to fly away any moment. Analisa started to giggle next to you, already high. Suddenly, you began seeing black dots around you, coming closer and closer. “Weren’t these the dots on Bruno’s suit?”, you thought anxiously. They were talking to you, calling you principessa, amore mio, stella mia and many more terms of endearment. The dots turned into hands, touching you everywhere. But you decided to not give in. Not this time. Instead, you transformed your fear into anger. You energetically pushed away all the hands until they scurried away. Your rage wasn’t quenched yet, though.Under the effect of the drug, your fury was amplified significally. You took your phone and called Bruno. You wanted to let your frustration out on him, not only on the creations of your mind of him. He picked up immediately after the first ringing. “Y/N?”, he asked, worry dripping from his voice, “Are you alright? You don’t call normally. Should I come to you? I can drop my work just-”

“Bruno,” you interrupted him abruptly, “stop it. STOP IT. I can’t take this shit anymore. You cling onto me like some lovesick puppy and I’m done. Who the fuck are you even? I hardly know your name and you behave as if we were married. Guess what, you’re not even my boyfriend.” It was quiet for an instant. At first, you thought he hung up, but then you heard a slight chuckle from the other end of the phone. “The fuck?”, you thought, “Did he now completely have lost his mind?” 

“Y/N, is that what it takes to call me? Being high?”, the Italian man replied. Another bitter laugh espaced his mouth. You weren’t sure if he knew about your current state, because of your atypical rage or simply because he seemed to know everything about you without you telling anything. “Another reason for him to leave me alone.” 

“I bet one of your lovely friends gave you a pill, didn’t they?”, Bruno continued, seemingly angry now, too, “You know how I feel about drugs, right?”

You didn’t answer, your fear suddenly coming back. The room around you started to spin more and more. 

“Right?”, Bruno growled again. 

“Y-yes”, you stuttered eventually. 

“Good. I assume you’re in your apartment. Stay there and don’t make anything stupid anymore. I’ll be there soon. Clearly, you need me even more than I thought you would.” With these words, Bruno hung up, leaving you even more confused and frightened. Your body started trembling terribly. You didn’ t know if it was because of the drug or your pitless fear. Analisa, coming back to senses again, realised your bad state and immediately rushed over to you. 

“Shit Y/N, what happened?”, she inquired, worry written in her eyes. You explained to her the situation as best as you could in your foggy condition. “Fuck, I should have never given you the drug,” Analisa replied remorsefully, “I take full responsibility. I’ll call the cops before that bastard arrives here, I don’t care if they find my drugs, we’ve gotta do-”. The woman was interrupted by a loud knock on your door. 

“Y/N?”, Bruno shouted, “I know you’re in there. Open the door please.” 

“What are we doing now?”, you cried desperately. You didn’t even know why you reacted that way. Bruno never gave you a serious reason to be scared of him, but now, after the phone call, your gut feeling told you to run away as fast as you could. 

“I’ll call them now”, Analisa replied hastily, looking for her phone. But it was too late. Bruno broke the door in, his stern gaze resting on you. “Since when was he so strong?” 

“Analisa,” the man said, not breaking eye contact with you for a single moment, “give me your phone and walk away.” 

“Are you mad?”, the blue-haired woman shouted furiously, “I’m not gonna leave Y/N alone with you after that.” 

“Give me your phone and walk away, now”, the man repeated gloomly. His eyes, normally a serene blue ocean, turned into a destructive storm. Bruno smashed his fist into the wall, leaving it with a gaping hole. “If you don’t leave immediately,” he growled, “your family will suffer great consequences. Your little sister Teresa? She will die in a tragic car accident. Your father Marco? He will die of liver failure for drinking too much. Or so will be the official reports.” You stared big-eyed at Bruno, your fear only increasing. There was no doubt now that he worked with the mafia. Analisa slowly walked past you, tears falling down her cheeks, as she softly said sorry to you. Her phone was resting on your couch. Once she was gone, you broke down completely. What was he going to do? Bruno stood now in front of you, dragging you ungently by your arm and monitoring you to your bedroom. Was he really going to…? 

“No, no, no, NO!” What first started with a whisper ended in a bloodcurdling scream. The Italian didn’t stop though, pushing you instead on your bed. He seemed to be tired of your behaviour. Bruno sighed deeply, finally speaking to you now. 

“Y/N, I’m not going to do such thing. I just want you to realise, that you behave recklessly and I can’t let you continue like this. I just want to protect you. Look at you, being high now.” He gestured elegantly at you with his slim hand. What was he talking about? Your hallucinations had stopped the minute Bruno knocked on your door. 

“I am not high anymore”, you simply replied. 

“Are you sure about that?”, the raven-haired man replied. His eyes began to glimmer darkly. Suddenly, you witnessed how your legs were zipped away. 

“What the fuck?”, you screamed desperately. What was happening? You were sure, that this wasn’t the effect of the drug, that Bruno somehow did this to your body. “What are you doing to my legs? I-I kn-o-ow that you a-are z-z-ziping them off of m-me”, you stuttered anxiously. 

“What do you mean? I can’t see such thing”, Bruno replied coolly. “As I said, you are hallucinating.” 

“I am not hallucinating, you are doing this to me! I know you do! Please, stop it. Stop it...”. Your pleads turned into ear-piercing sobs. Tears clouded your vision as you desperately tried to grasp for air. 

“Hush, cara.” Bruno was suddenly next to you on your bed, draping his arm over your shoulders and whispering in your ear. “This is all in your mind. You need to sleep now. Tomorrow, everything will be fine again. I will stay by your side and protect you.” His warm breath grazed your earshell. The man nuzzled your hair, admiring its smooth texture and lovely scent. “I will always be with you.”

Eventually, after all your crying, you did fall asleep in Bruno’s arms. The latter kept stroking your cheek, marveling your soft breathing and beautiful face. Of course he felt a tinge of guilt for having used Sticky Fingers on you. Your desperate cries as you called him for help still pained him. But you needed to learn your lesson. Bruno could tolerate a lot, but drugs weren’t on that list. He would give Analisa a quick visit to make sure she’ll never talk to you again. Or to anyone, for a matter of fact. You didn’t need such a bad influence. “Not my sweet Y/N”, he whispered in your locks. “From tomorrow on, you will live with me, where I can always protect you. Now, doesn’t that sound like paradise?”