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serpentandlily · 1 year ago

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Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny IV

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny IV - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: a lil bit of angst, a lil bit of fluff, a lil bit of suggestion

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

To say he was panicking would be an understatement.

No, Eris had felt panicked when he had opened the door to his chambers and realized his mate was not there. But that panic turned to full-fledged terror when he had finally tracked down the two handmaidens he'd assigned her this morning and they both said they had no idea where his mate was.

He stalked through the Forest Home---trying to appear calm and nonchalant despite what he felt. He didn't want anyone to catch wind of something being amiss. Not before he was able to find his mate and safely get her back to his chambers. Lucky for him, he'd been forced to wear a mask his whole life and this was no different.

A bark from behind caused him to whirl around. Ashera came running from around the corner, ears flapping and tail wagging. That had to be a good sign. She yipped again when she caught up to him and gripped the edge of his cuff in her sharp teeth.

"Did you find her, Ash?" Eris asked, quietly.

He was answered with a pull of her teeth. His shoulders loosened with relief and he let Ashera guide him to wherever it was that she had found his mate. He had given Ashera the order to find her the minute he realized she was missing and had gone the opposite way of her to cover more ground.

A few moments later, he found himself in front of the doors to the library. Ashera let go of him and started to paw at the doors with a whine. He could hear two voices from behind the doors. His mate's and....

He grabbed both handles and yanked open the double doors, stalking inside.

"And do you want to know what I said—" His brother, Finnegan, abruptly cut off his sentence when the sound of the doors slamming shut behind Eris and Ashera caught his attention. He looked up, smirking when he caught sight of his frazzled brother.

Seated in front of his brother, a chessboard on the table between them, was his mate. She turned in her chair, eyes wide as she looked over with surprise until she recognized who was there. A soft smile bloomed on her beautiful face, her doe eyes lighting up.

No one had ever looked at him like that when he entered rooms. Not even his own mother. No, he was usually met with either fear or disdain. But not from his mate... She should've been staring at him with disgust or contempt, especially after how he had treated her yesterday and especially after their argument this morning when he forbade her from leaving his room. Instead, she seemed happy to see him.

Was she putting on a front for his brother?

"Eris!" she exclaimed, rising from her seat. "You're back. Oh, you won't believe the day I've had! Finn found me wandering around and—"

"Come here," Eris ordered, cutting her off. He held out his hand towards her. His brother's smirk grew as Eris glowered at him. His mate’s eyebrows rose in question but she thankfully listened to him, walking to his side and grasping his hand in her much smaller, much softer one.

Ashera let out an excited yip and brushed up against her legs, causing his mate to smile down at her. Honestly, he should've known she was his mate the minute his hounds hadn't torn into her when she first appeared in Autumn that day. Should've known the second Ashera had pranced forward and tried to comfort her, for Gods' sake. His dogs were prime hunters, yet around her, they were reduced to nothing more than fluffy house pets it seemed.

He remembered seeing her for the first time, her leg stuck in that bear trap. Despite the tears running down her face and her hair tangled with leaves and twigs, she was the most beautiful female he had ever laid eyes on. So soft and delicate. The opposite of everything he was.

But the mating bond hadn’t truly snapped until the shadowsinger had shown up in the clearing that day and whisked her into his arms. She had looked straight at him and a golden thread had unwoven in his chest, causing him to stagger back just as they disappeared in a swirl of shadows. It had taken all of his will power not to immediately storm the Night Court if only to see her for a second more.

“Can I not have her for a few more minutes, brother?” Finn asked, tossing his arms behind his head and resting his head against them with a smug grin. “We’re nearly finished with our game.”

Eris sneered at his brother. “If I see you sniffing around her again, I’ll rip out your throat.”

“Eris!” His mate exclaimed, looking up at him with wide eyes. He ignored her, still glaring daggers at his brother who didn’t even flinch at the threat.

“You’re lucky I stumbled upon her before father did,” Finn crooned. “I’d say you owe me one for allowing her the pleasure of my company.”

“Well, consider me not ending you where you stand your one and only favor,” Eris retorted. His mate went to pull her hand from his but he gripped her tighter, finally looking down at her. “Come on, we’re leaving.”

He stalked towards the library door, pulling her with him despite her soft protests. He didn’t say a word to her as he led her back to his chambers, not wanting any servants milling about to gossip if they heard anything. He only released her hand once they were safely in the living area of his quarters and behind the heavy wards set up.

“Are you out of your mind?” She hissed at him, holding her hand to her chest.

“Are you?” He bit back, flicking his hair out of his face. “I gave your strict orders to stay here while I was gone or with your handmaidens!”

“I am not something you can just keep under lock and key!”

“You’re not in the Night Court anymore, bunny,” Eris argued. “My father is nothing like Rhysand. The males outside these doors are nothing like those two wretched Illyrians. I can have you chained to my bed and no one would bat an eye, do you understand?”

“And is that what you’ll do if I don’t listen to you?” She retorted, crossing her arms. “Put me in chains?”

“No,” he snapped. “But I will lock you in here if I must. I’d rather you hate me than let anything happen to you.”

“Then take me out with you,” she protested. “Don’t leave me here!”

Eris let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking down at his irritating, foolish, and completely and utterly bewitching mate. Her large eyes were hopeful, her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. The mating bond was driving him absolutely wild. He wanted to shove her against the wall and rip that lip out of her teeth with his own.

“Please,” she whispered.

“Fine,” he growled. “But if I agree to take you out tomorrow afternoon, you will agree to stay inside my chambers unless otherwise instructed. Do you understand?”

Those sweet, alluring eyes turned callous in a matter of seconds.

“So, you intend to treat me like a dog? Like a pet?” she snapped, crossing her arms. “Actually, I take that back. You even treat your dogs better than that!”

As if proving her point, Ashera jumped up on the couch, laid down and covered her face with her paw, as if she felt his mate’s exasperation.

“Have you any idea what is at stake here?” he bit back. “I do not intend to treat you like a pet. I intend to keep you safe!”

“And you think by keeping me locked away, I’ll be safe? They all know where your chambers are, Eris. I’m no safer here than I am anywhere else in this manor!”

“At least, I’ll know where you are! Do you have any idea how worried I was when I went to find you earlier and you weren’t here?”

Her eyes widened and her arms fell limp at her sides. “You… you were worried?”

Eris tossed his arms in the air, letting out a noise of frustration. “Of course, I was worried. Do you know how many enemies I have in this court? Do you know how many people would wish to harm you if they had the chance just to hurt me?”

“I thought…” She paused, rubbing her arm.

Eris glared down at her. “You thought what? Go on, bunny, tell me what that little mind of yours thought?”

“I thought you were mad! And can you blame me?” she huffed up at him. “You treat me like a nuisance, insult me any chance you get! Why the hell would I ever think you were worried about me? I’m sure you’d just be so over the moon if someone did get rid of me! Since I’m such a burden.”

There were a lot of things in life Eris regretted but calling his mate a burden this morning was now on the top of that list. He hadn’t meant it. Of course, he hadn’t. She just didn’t understand the severity of the situation. He didn’t want to be mean to her or to have her hate him… but if it kept her safe, then so be it. At least, that had been his train of thought. But seeing the hurt on her face when those words had come out of his mouth had nearly killed him.

“I’m sorry, okay,” Eris groaned. “I’m sorry I called you that. It’s not true. It was never true but bunny…you really don’t understand…”

“No, Eris, I do,” she snarled. “I’m not as stupid or naive as everyone likes to think I am!”

“Not naive?” Eris mocked. “Then what do you call galavanting around the Forest House with one of my own brothers?”

“Your brother was fine,” his mate replied. “He was perfectly polite. All he did was show me around a bit and then take me to the library as I requested.”

Eris scoffed. “You don’t know him like I do.”

“You know what’s funny? That is the exact thing my sisters would say about me and yet they have no idea who I am. They’ve never let me be anything other than the girl they think I am. Have you thought that perhaps this competition your father has you all so convinced of between you guys doesn’t even exist? Have you ever even tried talking to one another without your father’s influence?”

She wasn’t wrong but Eris knew how deep his father had his claws in his brothers. It would take a lot to shake them from his grasp. Time and effort he wasn’t afforded with at the moment. Not when he constantly had to look over his shoulder and now had to keep his mate safe at all times. This court was corrupt and dangerous—everyone here was in survival mode.

These hypotheticals might be worth a discussion and if it were up to him, he would’ve taken his mother and younger brothers far away from his father a long time ago. But alas, he did not have such power…yet. But perhaps things could change. Though, nothing would so long as his father still sat on the Autumn throne. Until then, these sorts of conversations were not worth the time.

“You speak on things you have no knowledge about and I see little point in having this conversation with you,” Eris said, straightening out his lapels. “I have a meeting I must attend with my father. Stay here.”

And then he left swiftly, before his mate could see just how much her words affected him, before he grabbed her and winnowed as far from this court as he could—consequences be damned. She drove him absolutely mad but Gods, did he find her so enticing. She was wild and impulsive and had a lot to learn, but the sort of honesty and hopeful outlook she had…Well he could only hope he could protect that, hoped he could keep her sweet and kind and soft and all the things no one had ever allowed him to be.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You had just woken up when your two handmaidens, Willow and Ivy, entered the room, pestering you to get up. Bleary eyed, you let them drag you into the bath before they sat you in front of the vanity. Ivy braided your hair while Willow dusted some light makeup on your face.

“Can I ask what you are prepping me for?”

“Lord Eris has requested that we get you ready for an afternoon trek on horseback,” Ivy answered, with a slight smile on her face.

Your eyes widened, taken aback. You hadn’t spoken to Eris since your fight yesterday. In fact, he had never even returned to his chambers last night. You didn’t try to leave, in fear that you would find the door locked and all your worries of the kind of male you were mated to would be proven true. Instead, you had pretended that a night in was just what you wanted, begrudgingly following his command.

They dressed you in an off the shoulder linen chemise and flowy skirt that fell to your shins before lacing you into a burnt orange corset that had your lungs screaming for air. They slipped a pair of brown leather boots onto your feet.

“Surely trousers would be more appropriate?” you asked, spinning around so your skirt swished around the tops of your boots. Ivy and Willow gasped at your words, placing a hand over their hearts.

“A lady should never be seen in trousers,” Ivy declared, aghast.

Their shock was humorous to you, so you bit your lip to keep from laughing. Gods, the Autumn Court was so backwards sometimes. You were getting better at choosing your battles, so you said nothing else as they led you out of Eris’s chambers to the horse stables.

Eris stood there next to another male who was preparing two horses. Your mouth dried a bit at the sight of him. He was wearing a loosely tied tunic, tucked into brown breeches and a pair of riding boots. His red hair glimmered in the sun like a ruby gem, his pale skin nearly glowing. He looked as if the Autumn forest made him itself.

You hadn’t realized you had paused in your steps until your two handmaidens giggled next to you.

“You are a very lucky female, Lady Y/n,” Ivy whispered to you with another giggle, causing your cheeks to turn pink.

“Lord Eris is a very lucky male to have someone as lovely as Lady Y/n as his mate,” Willow countered, which only made your blush deepen.

Eris noticed you as you drew closer and his eyes trailed over your form, heat swirling in them. You felt goosebumps rise on your skin under his gaze. His fox-like face was so beautiful, so enchanting, it was hard to look away. You kept eye contact with him as your handmaidens presented you.

“Lady Archeron, as you requested, my Lord,” Willow said as she curtsied.

“Thank you, ladies, you may continue on with the rest of your duties,” he said to them, though he didn’t stop looking at you which caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach. The two girls sauntered off, their giggles heard until they rounded the corner.

You wanted to be mad at him still, but this seemed like a sort of peace offering or apology for yesterday. One that you decided to accept. You walked forward until you were at his side, glancing at the large horses.

“This is Marigold. She is our most well-mannered horse,” Eris said. “Go on, you can pet her. She won’t bite.”

“I’ve never ridden a horse, my Lord,” you said, shyly, reaching out a hand to pet the one in front of you.

Eris seemed surprised but made no comment on it. He simply turned to the stableboy and waved a hand at him. “One horse will do today, Landon.”

“Oh, are you going to teach—”

You squeaked as Eris grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you onto the horse as if you weighed nothing, your cheeks turning bright red. A moment later, he lifted himself onto the horse, right behind you. The butterflies in your stomach were worked into a frenzy as his long legs encompassed you and your back was pressed against his firm chest.

“Yes, bunny, I’m going to teach you,” Eris whispered, his breath dancing along the edge of your pointed ear. You could hear the smirk in his voice, as if he knew exactly the kind of reaction he was causing inside of you.

“Is this not improper?” you asked. “Aren’t ladies supposed to sit with both their legs on one side?”

It had been a hard transition for you—to go from living in poverty in that tiny cottage to living in high society. You weren’t like your other sisters who had spent their childhood years being trained to be ladies. You could hardly remember any part of your life before your mother died.

It was, perhaps, why you felt the closet to Feyre of all your sisters. Because she, too, was wild in a way that Elain and Nesta weren’t.

“Something tells me you have no concern over how ladylike you are, bunny,” Eris chuckled, his hard chest rumbling against your back. Your cheeks flared up again and you tossed him a glare over your shoulder.

“Everyone else seems so concerned about my virtue and image,” you hissed.

“Well, I’m not,” Eris retorted. “Go on, grab the reins.”

You hesitantly wrapped your fingers around the leather straps and nearly jolted in surprise as Eris’s placed his calloused hands on top of yours. He started to maneuver your fingers. “You want to keep your thumbs on top and your fingers closed around them.”

Once he seemed satisfied, he tapped the horse on the side and she began her trot. You bit your lip as his hands slid off the reins and on to your thighs. “Relax your legs, bunny. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall off.”

You hadn’t realized how much you were squeezing the poor horse until he lightly stroked your thighs, getting them to loosen before his hands slid to your waist instead.

"What do I do with these?” You asked, nodding towards the reins in your hands.

“Nothing for now,” Eris answered. “You use them to steer or to get her to stop.”

His proximity to you and the tiny circles he absentmindedly rubbed on your waist with his thumbs caused your body to hyperfocus on all the places you were touching. You could hardly pay attention to his instructions and the more the two of you continued on, the more you found yourself relaxing into his chest—soaking in the heat that seemed to exude off his body.

Once you seemed to get the hang on the basics, a soft silence fell between the two of you. The sounds of the forest came alive the deeper you traveled into the trees. It was truly beautiful out here. The red and orange leaves on the trees reminded you of the painting Feyre had done on your drawer on the dresser back when you were living in the cottage.

“I’m sorry,” Eris whispered into your ear, breaking the silence and surprising you. “For yesterday.”

You softened at his words. “It’s okay.”

“No,” he said, his grip on your waist tightening. “It wasn’t okay. It pained me to hear you say I think of you as a nuisance, as something to get rid of. It is simply not true, bunny and I’m sorry for ever making you believe I think that.”

Eris didn’t seem like the type of male to apologize for his actions, so it meant more to hear it from him.

“I just wish you would stop trying to push me away. I’m tired of everyone always deciding what's best for me instead of trusting me to know it myself,” you sighed.

“I know and I’m sorry. I know how unseen you feel.”

He seemed to see right through you. Was it the mating bond that allowed such a thing? Or was it just something you had in common? No one had ever looked closely at you. You were the baby of the family, never allowed to be involved in decisions or important things. You lived in your own world most of the time.

Although Eris was brought up in a far different environment than you, you couldn’t help but think he felt the same way. That he was constricted and forced to play a role he had no wish to. That he was written off as arrogant and cruel simply because he was born under a male who was.

But he was nothing like his father.

“I know you do because I know you feel the same way, Eris,” you whispered, glancing back at him. “But I see you.”

“Perhaps that scares me.” His amber eyes were still guarded as he looked down at you. “No one has ever looked before. No one has ever wanted to.”

“I do,” you said, holding his gaze. “I want to.”

It was silent for a moment and you twisted back around, staring at the forest ahead.

“You shouldn’t,” Eris said, so quietly, that you were certain he was talking to himself. But despite his words, a tension had been lifted between the two of you.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

A little while later and after several whines about her legs starting to hurt, Eris let his mate have a break. He helped her off Marigold and found a tree to tie the horse to so the two of them could walk for a bit.

He kept a step behind her, watching as she spun in a circle, the leaves crunching beneath her boots, as she took in the forest. The wonder and excitement in her eyes caused a spark in his chest. Those things had long since been beaten out of him so it was nice to see them in someone he already cared so deeply about.

Eris enjoyed being out here with her, away from the Forest House and everyone else. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he kept his guard up to protect his wonderfully oblivious mate from any harm that might come her way.

“It’s so beautiful here,” his mate whispered.

The sunlight casted gold rays of light through the leaves, illuminating her beautiful face. She looked made for this kind of place, for Autumn. His chest ached at the sight—at what could be if his father wasn’t such a conniving bastard.

“It is,” Eris said softly, his amber eyes still trained on his mate. She peeked over her shoulder at him, blushing as she met his gaze. Gods, if he were a lesser male, he’d have shoved her up against a tree and claimed her as his already.

“Hey, I have an idea!”

“I’m sure you do,” he chuckled and she whirled around, placing her hands on her hips as she glared at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He shook his head, biting back a smile. “Nothing. What is your idea, bunny?”

“We should play a game,” she said. “Like hide and seek.”

Eris snorted. “Hide and seek? What are we, children? I’m over five hundred years old, bunny, I’m not going to play games with you.”

“Fine, suit yourself,” she shrugged. “But I guess that means you’ll have to return to the Forest House without me unless of course…you find me.”

And then she darted off into the trees, weaving her way out of his view. He expected to find himself irritated, but it was the opposite. He couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped from his mouth at how ridiculous his mate was. Ridiculous and brash—but so endearing.

“You can’t hide from me, bunny,” he shouted into the trees.

Silence met his ears and then…a twig snapped in the distance. He sauntered off in the direction of the noise. He would entertain her absurd game but he would not be running off like some wild beast through the forest. He followed her enticing scent of harvest apples and forest pine, twisting through the tall trees and leaf-covered ground.

He saw a flash of her hair from the corner of his eye and spun in place, listening for her footsteps. He continued following after her, getting small glimpses of her here and there, hearing the tiny giggles that seemed to echo in the silent forest and he realized that a small smile had grown on his face as the game went on.

Until things went so quiet, you could hear a pin drop. He froze, sniffing the air. He could still smell her but where had she gone? He spun in place, looking for footprints and listening for any sounds but…nothing. His heart started to beat faster in his chest, suddenly worried she had run off too far.

“Bunny,” he shouted. “You can come out now!”

Nothing.

The smile on his face dropped and he continued his search. Had she ran into some creature that took her? Had his guard fallen so low that he hadn’t realized that someone else was out here?

“Hey, bunny—fuck!”

Something ran straight into his back and wrapped their arms around his neck, making him stagger forward. He turned around and pinned them against the tree with a snarl so quickly he hadn’t even realized what exactly had knocked into him until he heard the familiar giggles and his mate’s scent washed over him.

“Got you!”

She was staring up at him with wide, excited eyes—her face flushed from her exertion. He stared at her in disbelief, uncertain how she was able to sneak up and ambush him like that. The hand that had wrapped itself around her throat moved to rest on the tree next to her head.

“And so the sly bunny ensnares the dumb fox,” she sang between her pants, her arms still around his neck, her back still pressed against the tree.

He let out a breath, staring down at her with a small glare. “That is not funny. I could’ve hurt you!”

“But you didn’t,” she countered, not seeming concerned about it at all. “I’m surprised I was able to sneak behind you. I thought for sure you saw me at one point. You looked right at me!”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I was standing right there,” she laughed, pointing at a spot to their left. “And you looked right at me! I thought I was busted but I don’t know, Eris, you might be going blind with age.”

Her eyes held amusement as she looked up at him but he was confused. He had no idea what she was talking about—he hadn’t seen her at all. She had not been standing there. She must’ve been mistaking those trees for another.

“Very funny,” he said, deadpanned.

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser,” she teased, her fingers playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, absentmindedly. Her touch sent shivers down his spine. Her body pressed against his fought against the control he had.

He wanted to knock the smug smile right off her face. He stepped closer, placing his free hand on her sternum and trapping her against the tree. He felt her breath hitch and grinned.

“I’m not the loser,” he purred, before leaning down to whisper in her ear, “You’re still ensnared by me, bunny. Not the other way around.”

Being this close to her again reminded him of all the ways he would take her and he let out a heavy breath, trying to keep from getting hard and scaring her away. Her head was tilted back so she could stare at him, her smile slipping as her heart pounded loudly enough that he could hear it through her chest. It seemed to beat in rhythm was his.

He was certain she was going to cave first. His other hand still rested against the tree next to her head, allowing her the chance to dip away if she wanted. Her cheeks turned pink and he was sure she was about to start stuttering like a girlish maiden as she usually did when she said something that absolutely surprised him.

“Maybe I want to be ensnared by you, Eris,” she whispered.

Heat spread through his body like a wildfire and he knew it exuded off of him by the way she melted into his touch, her eyes flickering down to his lips as she shuddered. She bit her lip and he growled, his hand moving up her sternum until it rested against her cheek. He plucked her lip free with his thumb and she met his gaze again—her eyes wide and innocent yet full of desire. He could feel her anticipation down the mating bond, which glowed like firelight between them, and he knew she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

The mating bond sang in his chest.

Mine….Mine….Mine…

She glanced down at his lips again and the look she gave him was enough to snap the last string holding his composure.

So he surged forward and passionately kissed her.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

One second you were thinking of how much you wished Eris would kiss you and the next second he was. His lips were soft, softer than you imagined, and so warm. Your eyes fluttered shut and you kissed him back with the same fire and eagerness that had Eris groaning against your lips. The hand that was resting on your cheek moved to your neck and angled your head back farther so he could deepen the kiss.

One of your own hands slipped into his hair, tangling some red strands between your fingers as the butterflies in your stomach began their frenzy again. All thoughts seemed to cease at that moment. All you could feel was Eris’s body pressed against yours, his kiss so full of hunger that your knees almost buckled under the weight of it.

Your other hand slipped down to grab onto the collar of his tunic and yank him closer. He growled and bit down on your bottom lip; you gasped at the slight pain. He used that opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth and his kiss turned crazed.

Fire sparked under your skin, so hot it threatened to consume you.

His hand slipped down to your thigh, yanking your leg up around his hip so he could press in closer to you—nailing you to the tree. The rough bark rubbed against your back, serving as a contrast to the softness of his lips on yours.

He devoured you, kissed you in a way no one ever had before. You didn’t fight for dominance. Not when it felt this good to surrender yourself to him. Heat and wetness pooled in your core—the evidence of his own arousal pressed firmly against your stomach as his tongue continued to explore every crevice in your mouth, claiming it as his.

Every inch of your skin was tingling as he pulled away and began to trail feverish kisses down your jaw and neck—giving you the chance to breathe for a moment. You whimpered as his canines nipped at the sensitive skin on your throat, marking you.

“Do you know how much I think of this?” Eris groaned against your skin, his nose trailing up the column of your throat. “Of ravishing you like this.”

“Y-you do?” You stuttered as his canines grazed your neck again—reminding you again that Eris was no human man. No, he was much more than that of a man. He wasn’t even a full High Lord yet and still, you could feel his power crackling around you like burning embers.

“Oh, bunny,” Eris purred, pulling back to look at you with that fox-like grin that had your knees weak again. “I think of you like this—at my mercy—all the damn time.”

He leaned down and kissed you again until your face was flushed, your lips swollen and your neck was full of love bites. The both of you were panting as he rested his forehead against yours, his amber eyes staring down at you with flame licking his irises, full of hunger and lust and longing.

You knew at that moment that you belonged to Eris because there was no way anyone else on this earth would make you feel as you did now. And you didn’t want there to be anyone else. No, your heart and mind sang for him and him only. No matter how things turned out, you knew they always would. It was scary and thrilling and daunting but it was true.

And by the way he stared down at you, you knew he felt it too.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months ago

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Cannibals [Chapter 4: Foxes and Sailfish]

Series summary: You are his sister, his lover, his betrothed despite everyone else’s protests; you have always belonged to Aemond and believe you always will. But on the night he returns from Storm’s End with horrifying news, the trajectories of your lives are irrevocably changed. Will the war of succession make your bond permanent, or destroy the twisted and fanatical love you share?

Chapter warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), awkward interactions on a boat, making friends in the Vale, references to war-related violence, Aemond flashbacks haunt the narrative, Red and Jace share an exciting new experience!

Word count: 5.8k

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The fireplace crackles, there’s smoke in the air. The shards of seashells take shape on the board as you affix them with paste made of boiled bones, unloved bodies you’ve scavenged: rabbits, foxes, deer, weasels, squirrels, snakes, turtles, birds. Sometimes Criston will find you searching for carcasses in the garden or the Godswood—a basket full of skulls and ribs, hands covered with dirt—and beg you to go back to Maegor’s Holdfast where you belong. He says: Please, princess, let me do that for you. I’ll bring you all the bones you need. This is too grisly a task for young ladies. And then, when you try to refuse him: Red, it hurts your mother when you’re like this. And so you accept his offer and surrender your basket, knowing that being the daughter Mother wishes you were will always require pretending.

Aemond is in bed, freshly rid of his left eye and floating in a silent, pearlescent lake of milk of the poppy. He is unconscious for now, but he can only have a dose every six hours, and when it begins to wear off he becomes feverish and fearful. You can’t leave him. Aemond is a year older than you, always just a little bit wiser, always quicker and steadier on his feet; you have never known a world without him in it. But now he is the one who needs you. This is a strange feeling.

Mother, Criston, Helaena, and Maester Orwyle are always gliding in and out of the room—whispering, grim-faced ghosts—but at the moment you are alone with Aemond. A shadow appears in the doorway. It’s Aegon, and his face is marred too: there’s a bruise on his cheekbone from where someone hit him, Grandsire or Mother. He is slumped against the doorframe with a goblet of wine in his hand. He takes a slurp and uses his cup to gesture to where Aemond is sleeping. It’s a question.

“He’s alright, Aegon,” you say. “He’s resting. He’s healing.”

He licks his lips and skims his fingerprint around the rim of the goblet, pensive. “I wasn’t there.”

“None of us were.”

“Does he blame me for what happened?”

“He hasn’t said anything.”

“But you would know if he felt it.”

Would I? Sometimes you don’t believe you know Aemond as well as they imagine you do. There have always been things he doesn’t tell you. You didn’t know he was planning to claim Vhagar. He is unpredictable, he is a deep reservoir of secrets; he taunts you, he guards you, he ignores you, he comes rushing back. You say to Aegon: “I don’t think he blames you.”

Aegon exhales, drunken exhausted relief. “Good.”

Beneath blankets that Helaena has embroidered with legends from the Age of Heroes, Aemond stirs. His remaining eye—glazed, drugged, an empty anemic blue—flutters opens and drifts to you. “Now we know why you don’t have a dragon,” he says, weak and raspy. “The price has gone up. They cost an eye each.”

You paint a sliver of a cerulean-colored shell with glue. “I’d pay that if I knew it would work.”

Aemond asks, as if it has been weighing on him: “Do I horrify you?”

You smile softly. “No more than you did before.”

From where he still loiters in the doorway nursing his wine, Aegon snickers. Aemond grins, then winces from the pain it causes him. “What are you making?”

“It’s Symeon Star-Eyes,” you say, tilting up the mosaic so he can see it better. “You read us that story, remember? He was a knight who used a staff with blades at both ends to cut down his enemies. He was blinded in combat, so he replaced his eyes with sapphires.”

“Sapphires,” Aemond mumbles drowsily.

“Yes.”

“Blue.”

“Like you,” you say, thinking of his game piece: the blue wolf, a mournful color, a beast that kills.

“Hm,” he murmurs to himself as he sinks back into sleep; and it’s not until Aemond’s wound has healed that you learn of the idea you’ve given him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Vermax is not an especially imposing dragon, a drab sort of green and smaller than Sunfyre, but he is frightening enough when he bares his teeth. He snarls and snaps at you, unloosed fire roiling up in his throat. You stand perhaps ten paces away from him, flinching away from the heat that refracts the air and puts ripples in it like disturbed water. Jace is attempting to soothe Vermax, a palm pressed to the beast’s scales. Rhaenyra and Daemon are watching, confounded.

“Mother wasn’t exaggerating,” you tell them. You are crestfallen; this is a humiliation. You have silver hair and undisputed parentage, and yet Jace is the one whose egg hatched. So who is the true Targaryen?

“Very, very peculiar,” Daemon muses, scratching his chin. He turns to Rhaenyra. “Make her get closer, let’s see what happens.”

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra says impatiently. In the light of day, you can observe her face more clearly. There are dark semicircles under her eyes, and lines that didn’t exist before Luke was killed. She is ten years closer to the grave than she was the night her father died.

You cannot see the riots from where you’re standing in the castle courtyard, but you can hear them, the ambient rumbling of people rejecting Rhaenyra’s rule. They decry the slaughter of Jaehaerys. They shout demands of proof that the imprisoned Greens are alive and well: Mother, Helaena, Jaehaera, Maelor, you. Fear of Rhaenyra’s soldiers and her dragons may delay their wrath, but you don’t believe she can quell it. High overhead, Sheepstealer sails past the Red Keep, casting a massive shadow. Rhaenyra’s frown deepens. Daemon pretends not to notice.

“Very well,” Rhaenyra sighs, summoning Jace to return to her and abandon his attempts to quiet Vermax. Dutifully—though perhaps not without resentment—he acquiesces. Vermax is still growling at you. You glower back, wishing that Vhagar was here to eat him. “There are other ways to get to Heart’s Home. A ship will take longer, ten days or two weeks depending on the wind. The journey should be safe. The Sea Snake’s blockade controls Blackwater Bay, and the Greens have no navy.” Rhaenyra looks to you. “That’s still correct, isn’t it? The usurper was refused by the Greyjoys?”

“I don’t know,” you lie.

She gives you a disapproving glare and then turns her attention back to Jace. “Alyn of Hull can take you to the Vale in his ship. I’m sure Corlys can manage without him for a matter as important as this. I’ve sent a raven ahead to the Corbrays. They’ll be expecting you, and you’ll be married upon your arrival, with Lord and Lady Corbray serving as witnesses. You have until then to get accustomed to each other.”

Jace begins to mutter a protest, low enough that you can’t hear. Rhaenyra shushes him. Vermax takes flight and soars out towards the ocean. You step closer to the castle wall and listen to the clamor of the crowds, willing them to rise up and free your family, to destroy Rhaenyra’s. Daemon stalks you around the courtyard, unsheathing Dark Sister and whistling so you know how near he is. You refuse to acknowledge him.

Rhaenyra is telling Jace: “When the war is won, the Greens’ surviving loyalists will accept you as my heir if you are married to her and father her children.”

“What about Aegon? What if Aemond and Criston manage to smuggle him into hiding somewhere, and then one day he reappears and—?”

“Aegon won’t live,” Rhaenyra says confidently. “From what we’ve heard, his burns must be dreadful. He will succumb to them, hopefully slowly and with great pain, and in the meantime Aemond and Vhagar will be pinned down in the eastern Crownlands tending to him. And even once Aemond is unincumbered, he will not want to fly into battle against Caraxes and Sheepstealer together. Vhagar is fearsome, but she is old and slow. Aemond is cunning. He knows this.”

“You told Alicent we’d pardon him,” Jace says, and his tone is accusatory. How could you? How dare you?

“I said I’d spare him if he’s still alive when the war is over,” Rhaenyra replies with a sharp glance. “So let’s make sure he isn’t.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner is sailfish, which you’ve never eaten before. All afternoon you saw them zipping through the water as Alyn of Hull’s ship cruised out of King’s Landing and towards the Gullet, their sapphire dorsal fins cutting up through the surf. Then the crew caught some and hauled them up onto the deck—large bulging eyes, toothless mouths agape as they suffocated in open air—and you watched as the fish were gutted and their scales and organs scrubbed from the planks with seawater that turned rosy with blood. Refuse washed back into the ocean: bones, fins, disembodied eyeballs dragging tails of optic nerves.

Alyn is a bastard of Corlys Velaryon, you’ve gathered; he is young to have been entrusted with his own vessel, and the resemblance is undeniable. He is chivalrous but very strict. You are not permitted in the room where several caged ravens are kept in case Alyn has to send a message back to the capital. You are not permitted to stand too close to the ship’s railing. You are not permitted to handle anything that could be used as a weapon. You are not permitted to converse with the crew. In truth, you are allowed to do almost nothing.

Now you are below deck, you and Jace seated at opposite ends of a long wooden table and alone except for two guards posted by the door. Tall white candles flicker, wobbling in their brass stands as the ship rocks. You drink too much wine and pick at your sailfish, pinkish lumps of meat seasoned with garlic and lemon juice. Jace pushes roasted parsnips and green beans around aimlessly on his plate. You can’t stop thinking of the family you’ve left behind: Mother and Helaena in a dungeon, Jaehaera and Maelor taken hostage by Rhaenyra, Daeron at war in the Reach, Aegon horrifically burned, Aemond and Criston battling to save him.

I shouldn’t be safe while they’re suffering. It’s wrong, it’s treasonous. I’m the least worthy of us. I’ve done nothing to help us win this war. I haven’t saved anyone.

You keep hoping for a vision of what Aemond is doing, what he is feeling, but you’ve never had any control over the glimpses you get into his mind. They are random, and brief, and fragmented. You don’t know if Aegon is still alive. You don’t know if Aemond is thinking of you.

“So that’s why you don’t have a dragon,” Jace says suddenly, and you look up at him, startled. He’s staring at you from beneath the dark curls that have fallen over his face, the mark of House Strong. He’s not entirely unappealing, if you don’t judge him as a Valyrian, an enemy combatant, a traitor. You can’t tell if Jace is being smug or sincere; you barely know him. “Because they hate you.”

Mother’s words resurface in your skull like sailfish dredged up from the waves: If you care for Aemond, as I know you do, you will give him a chance if he and Criston cannot win on the battlefield. You will earn Jace’s affection and convince him to spare us.

You aren’t sure how to earn anybody’s affection. With everyone you’ve known before you either had it or you didn’t, and that never seemed like something you could change.

“It’s not for lack of trying,” you say, fidgeting uneasily with your wine cup. “I tried to claim Vermithor when I was a child. He nearly killed me.”

Jace’s dark eyebrows go up. “Did he? On Dragonstone?”

You nod. “Grandsire arranged for us to visit the island while your family was travelling elsewhere. Driftmark, maybe, I don’t remember. I had always wanted Vermithor, and I felt��I knew that if I found him he would bond to me and let me ride him. I followed him all over Dragonstone for days, but he kept moving, and then…when I finally got close enough…” You’d outrun Criston and the other guards, but Aemond had been there to pull you out of the path of Vermithor’s flames; yet you don’t think Jace will want to hear this. It feels impossible to extricate Aemond from your memories. You’ve never known a life he was not intrinsically entwined with. “The Bronze Fury made his discontentment clear.”

Jace narrows his eyes and gives you an ironic smile, as if he’s thinking: Too bad you lived. “So you gave up.”

“Oh no, I tormented the others too. Silverwing, Grey Ghost, Seasmoke, none of them were very welcoming. I don’t recall Sheepstealer being there at the time…maybe he was feeding elsewhere in the Crownlands. I’d know if I’d seen him before, I think.”

“Sheepstealer is very…unique in appearance.”

You smile at the memory of Grandsire calling him hideous, then go somber when you remember he’s dead. “Grey Ghost was sweet, though. He didn’t attempt to burn me, he just flew away.”

“You’ve tried all of those dragons?” Now Jace seems genuinely intrigued. “Just…one after the other?”

You shrug and swig your wine. Jace gives you a disapproving glance; you put the cup down and begin eating instead. “I wanted a beast for myself. Everyone else had theirs, it seemed inevitable that I would find mine if I searched long enough. I even approached the Cannibal.”

“The Cannibal.” Jace shakes his head and forks sailfish into his mouth; it’s the first bite he’s taken tonight. “You were desperate. Or stupid.”

You smirk. “Or both.”

“What color are his flames? Green, like his eyes?”

“No,” you say softly, remembering the massive black dragon covered in spines like the stalagmites of a cave. “No, the Cannibal’s dragonfire is red.”

“Do you think yourself to be…” Jace gestures vaguely with his fork. “Lacking in some way? Less capable than Helaena or your brothers?”

This is a rude question. “It doesn’t matter what I think. I must be inadequate, or I would have a dragon.”

Jace seems to contemplate this as he eats.

“Why do you ask?” you provoke him, before recalling you’re supposed to be winning his affection, if such a thing is possible, and you very much doubt it. “Are you concerned I’ll pass this fault on to my children?”

“Well, it’s an interest of mine,” Jace says. “Locating dragonriders. What makes someone alluring to the beasts, as well as what doesn’t. This war will be won by dragons, I’m sure each side aspires to have more of them.”

You study him, taking nibbles of your sailfish. Recruiting dragonriders outside of the immediate family is not something Aemond would ever consider; he would not trust them, he would view them as supplanters of the natural order. But a bastard himself… “Was it your idea to find someone to ride Sheepstealer?”

Jace grins, cagey and teasing. He spears green beans with his fork. “I’m not going to tell you that.”

Because I can’t be trusted with the Blacks’ strategies. Just with birthing their heirs. “I didn’t know you had ideas.”

“Yes, well, Mother and Daemon try very hard not to notice them.” He points to your braid with his knife. “Do you wear your hair like that because of Visenya?”

You touch it self-consciously. You’re surprised he noticed. “Yes.”

“She married her brother,” Jace says, and this sounds like an accusation.

“She was also fearless, and dangerous, and she had a dragon.”

“Unlike you.”

“Right.”

Jace chuckles to himself. Now he is certainly being smug. Somewhere out in the night, Vermax is trailing the ship and will reunite with Jace once you’ve docked at Heart’s Home. You keep listening for Vhagar, imagining that Aemond will sense it as you sail near where he and Criston are tending to Aegon at Rook’s Rest, and he will fly to you and torch this ship and bring you home like he’s always promised. But perhaps Aemond is forgetting you. Perhaps he resents that you cannot help him win the war; perhaps he is beginning to hate you. Oblivious, Jace eats his sailfish.

“I had a bat named Sailfish,” you say.

Jace is puzzled. “A bat? Like…?” He makes flapping motions with his hands.

You smile and nod. “I kept bats.”

“Why?”

“Because I enjoyed them,” you say, and again you must stop yourself from mentioning Aemond. He cared for them because I did. “They horrified most people, but the children thought they were adorable. I’d teach them how to hold the bats and feed them bugs and fruit, and Jaehaerys couldn’t stop laughing when they licked honey off his fingers…” Then you shudder and go quiet, because you cannot think of Jaehaerys without seeing his hemorrhaging, headless body in Aegon’s arms.

Jace frowns down at the table. The wooden beams of the ship groan; the candlelight flickers. “Just as Mother and Daemon do not often heed my suggestions,” he says carefully after a while. “They do not share many of their plans with me. I knew nothing of what my stepfather arranged to happen that night. And if I had known, I would not have allowed it.”

I don’t believe you can control Daemon at all, you think. But instead you reply hoarsely: “I’m glad you recognize it for the atrocity that it was.”

“I know I’ve spoken harshly in the past. But if you are truly to be my wife, I wish for us to be in harmony as much as possible. I hope you feel the same way.”

“I do.” You don’t have much of a choice. How can you sleep with a man who hates you, who you hate in equal measure? “And Jace…I didn’t know what was going to happen to Luke or Baela. I had no part in either of their deaths.”

“I can’t…” His voice breaks; he swipes at his dark glistening eyes, like flecks of onyx. “I can’t talk about them.”

You are alarmed. “Jace—”

“Goodnight,” he says as he leaves, already halfway across the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

The first time you’re together—at your vanity, late for dinner—Aemond doesn’t try to put his fingers inside you, and he doesn’t the second time either, or the third, or even the fourth. And this is just fine as far as you’re concerned, because the way Mother has mentioned the duty of a wife implies that there is a great deal of sacrifice involved for the woman, discomfort, pain, even harm, and what you have with Aemond—despite its many peculiarities—has never been painful, and you don’t want to ruin it. You don’t want to find out what other women mean when they talk about boredom and dread and blood.

Then one day you are in the garden, and you and Helaena are trying to teach the children how to play the game with the animal pieces, but they must not be quite old enough because they won’t listen. Jaehaera pokes Jaehaerys with Helaena’s yellow butterfly, Maelor chomps indifferently on Daeron’s purple shadowcat. You and Helaena laugh and give up the attempt as maids swoop in to corral the children.

“We’ll try again in a few months,” you say. “Perhaps they’ll be more tame by then.”

Helaena begins to gather up the game pieces. “We should ask Aegon to carve new animals for the children. Jaehaerys likes seals…” Then her hands go still and she stares at someone who’s standing behind you.

Before you can turn, Aemond leans down to where you’re kneeling on the cobblestones, grabs your braid, and wraps it around his fist. “Follow me,” he whispers into your ear.

“Why? Where?”

“Follow me,” he says again, more forcefully now. “I’m not asking.” Then he releases you with a rough shove and walks away.

You rise from the cobblestones and go after him, weaving through the paths of the garden, fountains trickling and flowers blooming and bees droning in the air. Aemond glances back to make sure you’re in pursuit, then disappears into an arbor grown over with roses, a tunnel of red blossoms and snagging thorns. Aemond sits on a stone bench that is draped in shadows and hidden from view; no one will see you unless they enter the tunnel. You can hear the distant sound of the ocean waves, and gulls and blue jays and the red-tailed hawks the noblemen hunt with. You take a seat beside Aemond, and immediately he lifts your legs so they rest across his lap, reaches beneath the hem of your maroon gown with his right hand, skims his way up the inside of your thigh as you pretend to fight him, all the while smiling and needing him closer, all your blood and muscles screaming for him, your bones aching like fractures that must be set.

“Look at me,” Aemond commands, catching your jaw in his left hand and holding you still, the transparent blue of his eye fixed on your face, where he reads every line and movement like a dead language, like the High Valyrian almost no one left can understand. “I want to know if I’m hurting you.”

Beneath your gown, his fingers are stroking you, waiting for you to be wet and relaxed enough, parting your lips.

“Are you afraid?” Aemond asks.

“No.” Maybe you should be, but you aren’t.

There is an unfamiliar fullness, strange but not unpleasant, and then when Aemond’s fingers begin to move inside you, you moan softly and close your eyes, breaking the spell. He lets go of your jaw and his palm shifts to cradle the side of your face, to bring you in closer, to hold you against him. And now you know that when he finally takes you, as a husband does a wife, it will be painless; and it will never be something you warn your silver-haired children about with dark resignation in your voice.

“What if they won’t let us marry?” you whisper against the warmth of his throat, dreading this more than anything. You don’t know that Targaryens and their dragons will soon be dying. “What if they send me away to wed some lord in the Reach or the Westerlands or the Vale?”

“Then I’ll find you,” Aemond says. “And I’ll burn down his castle, and I’ll bring you home.”

“You’re a monster,” you purr; but there’s a grin on your lips as he kisses you, something scalding and primordial like magma flowing beneath the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

Heart’s Home is a small grey castle in a vast grey world, the shadows of mountains filling the horizon, the sky overcast and bleak and the air tasting like metal. The last time you were in the Vale was as a girl, when Aemond pushed you into a frigid stream and you caught a chill that almost killed you, and he never apologized but he slept on your floor like a dog so he could be there to climb into bed and hold you when you shivered, and surely that is a greater sort of repentance than two vanishingly small words that anyone could say and perhaps not even mean.

You and Jace disembark from Alyn of Hull’s ship on the banks of where an inland river meets the saltwater of the Narrow Sea. Outside the castle walls, Heart’s Home has a stable and a sizable field, surely green and fertile in the summer, that is surrounded on three sides by a thick forest of coniferous trees. Cawing ravens perch on the branches; a hunting party emerges from the pines accompanied by braying hounds and carrying corpses of foxes to be skinned. You are greeted warmly by Lord Leowyn Corbray—who is tall and ancient, over seventy years old—and his wife Lady Carolei, around fifty and very round, with dark hair and pale skin that the harsh mountain wind rubs pink. While her husband fawns over Jace—“We were so honored by the queen’s request,” “We will ensure that your every need is attended to, Prince Jacaerys”—Lady Carolei Corbray watches you with an amused little smile, as if there are many questions she is impatient to ask you. Then you and your betrothed are ushered into the castle and served mutton pie full of gravy and vegetables, dark bread slathered with butter, blackberry oatcakes for dessert. You drink too much wine, because you know what will happen next. Jace does not reprove you this time; he’s drinking a good amount of ale himself.

The people of the Vale worship the Seven, and for all you know Jace does too, because there is no mention of a Valyrian wedding with fire and blood. Instead you exchange your vows in a tiny sept with plain glass windows and cold slate stones. A weathered, bony septon presides over the ceremony, and Lord Corbray stands in for your dead father. Even if Viserys was still alive, he wouldn’t feel like much less of a stranger. You are covered with a maiden’s cloak of your house—Lady Corbray announces proudly that it was sewn especially for this occasion—but it’s wrong, because they’ve used the old black and red sigil of House Targaryen rather than Aegon’s banner, a golden dragon on a green background. But you suppose it’s fitting because Jace’s cloak isn’t right either, as it depicts the seahorse of House Velaryon rather than the tri-colored flag of House Strong.

At the septon’s direction, Lord Corbray removes your cloak from your shoulders and Jace covers you with his own. And once you’ve exchanged the requisite words and Jace kisses you—him swift and uneasy, you trying not to flinch away—you realize that this is the first time you can remember him touching you. On the journey northward, Jace would sometimes find you pacing the ship’s deck and ask you silted, shallow questions: What kind of weather do you like best? What are your favorite desserts? Do you prefer swimming or horseback riding? What colors do you favor? Your nightly ritual was trying not to discuss your murdered relatives over dinner.

You are put to bed in a grand chamber at the top of one of the castle’s towers. There is a fireplace where logs snap and hiss, and a rug made of a shadowcat’s pelt; a chandelier of lit candles hangs from the ceiling. Through the window, you can see a silvery full moon obscured by clouds. You and Jace—freshly bathed and wearing loose, cotton nightclothes—wait in the quiet once your hosts have left, the blankets pulled up to your waists. All the bedlinens are white, you realize; you don’t think this is by accident.

They want to know if I’m truly a maiden. They want to know if I bleed.

You have no idea if you will or not. Nothing that Aemond has ever done to you has resulted in blood.

I don’t want it to hurt, you think with abrupt panic. You look around for a jar of oil, olive or rose, something to help him enter you. You open the drawers of your nightstand and are disappointed to find them empty.

“What are you doing?” Jace asks.

“Nothing.” You can’t explain without revealing you know more than a virgin should.

Jace turns to you. “You really haven’t done this before?”

Your nervousness must be evident. Surely no whore who had already been defiled by her monstrous brother would be sitting here wringing her trembling hands. “No.”

“Okay.” Jace takes a deep breath. He seems resolved to be brave for both of you; that is a husband’s burden, after all. “I haven’t either.”

“But you’ve…I mean, you’re a man, it’s different for you. You have experience of some sort, I assume…?” With Baela? With anyone?

Jace blushes and can’t meet your eyes. “I’m not above temptation. We kissed a few times.”

This is not reassuring. “Do you think you’ll be able to…? With me?” The daughter and sister of enemies?

He nods and smiles faintly. “Oh yeah, I think it’ll all work as it should.” Then he looks at you, dark eyes, dark curls, not ugly but not who you’ve ever imagined you would give yourself to. His gaze settles on your braid. “Here,” he says, and then he gently begins to unravel it.

You aren’t sure what to do. You’re not going to hit Jace, or fight him, or shove him or grab him or scratch him, and so you don’t know where you should put your hands. Once your hair is loose, you sink down to the soft feather mattress until you are lying flat on your back. Jace yanks off his shirt and tosses it to the floor, then he leans towards you, gesturing to your nightgown.

“Is it okay if I…?”

“Sure,” you say, and help him pull it off you. Even beneath the blankets, your bare skin feels the chill of the night air, and with the apprehension and fear there is something else too, a longing, a craving that has gone unsatiated. It’s crude to think, but it’s true: you’re used to being fed, and you haven’t been since Aemond went away.

Unexpectedly, Jace’s eyes don’t go to your breasts or lower; instead, they catch on the scar that cuts down from your left collarbone. He touches it with careful, weightless fingerprints. His voice is tender. “What happened here?”

“An assassin’s blade,” you say. “The night Jaehaerys died.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. Here—in bed, in the firelight—he is not Rhaenyra’s eldest son and someone you are supposed to hate, someone who is a threat to your life, someone who once played a part in Aemond losing his eye. Here Jace is just a man, and you are naked, and beneath the blankets he is taking off his cotton trousers and then positioning himself between your legs. You are a little wet already, you can feel it, but you know you need more, you know he needs to make you ready with his fingers and his mouth, but Jace isn’t aware of this and you can’t tell him.

You gasp as he starts to push himself inside you, overwhelming burning pressure. “Jace, I’m afraid.”

He stops and looks down at you with seeking, sympathetic eyes. His skin is flushed, his breathing quick. If you could read his face, you’d think it says: What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything. “We can stop.”

“No, just…just please go slowly, okay? Please don’t hurt me.” No more than you have to.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, and then—perhaps because he doesn’t know what else to do—he kisses you, and at first it is formal and unnatural like it was in the sept, but then Jace’s lips begin to move with yours and the kiss glows warm like embers. Your fingers go to his hair—not a Targaryen’s, a Strong’s—and tangle in his curls. His hands explore your breasts, grazing and circling your nipples with his fingertips. You wrap your legs around Jace as his tongue darts into your mouth, wanting this, maybe even wanting him.

Jace thrusts into you, and there is a moment of blinding pain that makes you cry out; and for everything that has been said about Aemond—a monster, a murderer, violent and arrogant and wicked—nothing he has ever done to you has hurt like this. Immediately, Jace moves to pull away, but you stop him. “Don’t.”

He shakes his head. “But you’re hurt—”

You hold his face in your hands to make him listen. “I’m alright, I promise. Just wait here, just give me a moment.”

“Okay,” Jace sighs into your throat that’s damp with perspiration. He kisses you there, tasting your salt, fear that has turned to lust. “Okay, okay…”

Already the pain is fading, and your muscles are relaxing, and you are slick with wetness to ease the razored friction. And it’s nothing like the way Aemond knew how to touch you—you are nowhere near a climax—but still, there is something pleasurable about it, there is something nice about being tangled up with a man this way again.

“Go on,” you tell Jace; and he rests his forehead against yours as he thrusts into you, very slowly, and he’s shaking all over, and between breathless kisses he is moaning, in shock that a feeling this good exists, in mindless ecstasy, and then he spills himself inside you and collapses onto your chest, still kissing you, thanking you, asking if you’re alright. Before you can answer, he throws back the blankets and examines the sheets. When you look down, you can see that between your legs is a stain of pale pink, a miniscule amount of blood.

Is that all? you think, relieved. It wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t so good either, but it was tolerable. And it will get better.

“No, no, no,” Jace murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh. He is distressed, he is repentant. “I wounded you. I’m so sorry.”

“I’ll be alright, Jace,” you say, rather amused.

He crawls back to you and lies down beside you on the bed. He is struggling to keep his eyes open. “You weren’t lying. You’ve never done that before.”

“No.”

“I won’t hurt you again.” He kisses your cheek. “My wife. My princess.” And then he rests his head on his pillow and within a minute he is snoring softly.

“My prince,” you whisper, trying it out. It doesn’t feel right yet, but maybe one day it will. You have to clean yourself off; Jace doesn’t know this about women, but you do. You climb out of bed, and Jace stirs as you leave.

“I love you,” he says, like it’s a reflex he’s repeated a thousand times, like it takes no thought at all. You stare bewildered at him. Jace’s eyes are still closed. And you think of Aemond—suddenly, with great clarity, as Jace sleeps in your shared bed—and you will yourself to be able to see where is and what he’s thinking. But there is nothing: only silence and firelight and the full moon hovering in the overcast, indigo sky outside.

Is he thinking of me? Does he feel lost too?

You have the maids draw a hot bath and you wash it all away, the sweat and the blood and the wetness and Jace’s seed that might give you a child with the unruly dark hair of the Strongs, and still you cannot stop thinking of Aemond.

Did he love me then? Does he love me now?

Back in your bedchamber, you gaze into the flames of the fireplace and try to remember the sound of Aemond’s voice, but you can’t. It keeps bleeding into the words of other people: Aegon, Daeron, Maelor, Jace.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #jace x you #jace x reader #jace velaryon x reader #jace velaryon x you #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon

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allfortheslay25 · 3 months ago

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Hi. I love your art, and your story's off of them. I was wondering if you could go a little more in depth with Warren and Milo.

Sure! I’ll just cover their first meeting/impressions of one another. Also sorry it’s just a wip instead of the full line art, I started classes again and have found little time to squeeze in finished projects

First off, Milo was meant to stay with Wymack during the summer before his semester started at palmetto. Milo would be an assistant coach for a bit as he was not yet cleared to play full scrimmages with the team just yet. Wymack had not told the team and was planning to as soon as Milo’s plane landed. However, Milo booked an early and fast flight, eager to surprise his family (Wymack, Abby, Betsy, and Sarah aka Abby and David’s adopted daughter)

Milo didn’t have a key yet so he picked the lock of Wymack’s apartment and snuck inside, unknowing of the foxes already inside. Warren, who is very protective of Wymack, Abby, and Betsy, broke Milo’s nose upon entry. He didn’t give Milo a chance to explain since Warren has been conditioned to deal with everything with violence. He chased Milo, grabbing for him and swinging as the boy tried to escape. Milo had been trained by Matt to box, by Renee to wield a knife, and has the instinct to cause pain from his bloodline but his hearts too big to purposely hurt someone

Warren chased him into the hallway, tackling Milo and turning him around to hit him again when Wymack appeared, asking Warren wtf he was doing.

Wymack then explained that Milo would be staying with him and dropping by practices to help the team. Warren fumbled to apologize but after the craziness that was the encounter, he realized Milo was reallly pretty and so Warren was too shy to say anything else to him.

On Milo’s side of things, he was too busy reeling in his rage at being attacked to notice. Milo reminded himself to be nice and open to the foxes and attend his therapy with Bee every day.

Throughout the summer, Warren began to fall for Milo. He was his type after all; tall, cute smile, kind and friendly personality, intelligent and passionate. Plus he was amazing at exy. Warren got to be up and close with Milo during a scrimmage once (when Milo was giving the backliners a tip or two) and his talent and fierceness was the nail in the coffin for Warren.

On Milo’s side, he focused on exy and tried to get the foxes to bond so their teamwork would improve. He didn’t genuinely think of Warren often unless it was part of the team lol.

However, as soon as the semester began, Milo was officially introduced to the team as Emilio Isaiah Minyard-Josten. Warren’s crush crashed and burned when he realized this was the son of his favorite exy player, Neil Josten.

Warren, not knowing what to do with his feelings and discomfort at being close to Milo, began to accidentally bully him. He’d be too rough during practice, try to push him away (literally) and end up hurting him because Warren doesn’t know how to be gentle. He’s not very good at English which shows up more when he’s flustered so he’d be meaner than he intends.

On Milos side, he was confused and put off by warrens attitude. He wanted everyone to like him but every time he was nice, it only resulted in Warren clipping him in the ankle with his racquet or a hiss to leave him alone. Milo decided to respect warrens boundaries and give him the space he wanted. The only time they were ever close was on the court when the two would ignore everyone’s existence to push the other until one of them came out with the victory. Being that they were the teams most versatile players, they often practiced against each other

Sometime in Milo’s first week, he took his foxes out to Eden’s for bonding (he had never gone himself but his family had a reputation there and thus Milo had free entry) Milo made sure everyone had fun but was safe and eventually found Chris and Ash bothering Warren outside.

Warren was being pressured to try a smoke but he’d always thought it was a dumb habit. Until Milo chased away Chris and Ash, joining Warren outside for a civilized conversation, in which Milo inhaled the second hand smoke wistfully and said the smell reminded him of simpler times. (Referring to his five years of childhood at palmetto since andreil quit smoking after they graduated) Milo went back inside and Warren finished the cigarette. If he suddenly picked up a smoking habit, well that was his business.

Overall, Warren deals with his one sided crush on Milo. He’s too attracted to him to be his friend without guilt but he admires Neil Josten so much he refuses to make a move on Milo in fear that everyone will think it’s just a creepy fan move.

Milo is completely blind to Warren’s existence most days. He isn’t his friend and Milo has enough on his plate along with two people he actually has semi crushes on; Captain Jackie (a platonic crush) and Jay (a one sided crush since Jay finds Milo too young)

But Milo also has five more years to become close with Warren :)

#aftg #all for the game #art #doodles #oc #oc art #aftg oc #milo josten #ed warren #david wymack #miloverse #all for milo #all for my foxes

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itsphoenix0724 · 1 year ago

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All Things Vile (Eris x Reader)

Summary: A recon mission to the Autumn Court gets more heated than you intended. They say Autumn males fuck like they have fire in their veins-you guess you're about to find out.

Warnings: ROUGH SMUT (this is pure filth and I'm not sorry), kind of dark, oral (m!receiving) choking, bondage

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote for him, been a while since I wrote in general since I'm adjusting back into my school life. Chapter 3 of MMOTI is drafted and will hopefully be released soon! But anyway here's a smutty Eris fic for all of you <3

The Autumn Court was ablaze in moonlit revelry. The scent of spiced cider and ale consumed the grove along with the smell of the blazing campfire. Fog weaved in and out of the shadow-drenched woods, urging the partygoers to follow its trail into the darkness. You could make out bodies against trees, males and females losing themselves in one another, as you jumped silently along the oak’s branches. It was a simple mission; Get in and get out, that’s what Rhys had said, and that’s what you fully intended on doing. Cloaked in darkness, mask pulled up to hide everything but your eyes, you found your target.

A drunken blush stained his pale cheeks, and the blood-red silk shirt he wore was unbuttoned so obscenely low you could see the dappling of freckles along his chest in the firelight. His auburn hair was unruly; the waves held down only by the circlet of gold leaves that marked him as the firstborn son of Autumn. His lips were stained from the wine he was sipping and his eyes had taken on a seductive half-lid as he somehow fixed his burning gaze straight onto you.

Fuck, Rhys was going to kill you.

Eris stood from his chair in one smooth motion, prowling towards your spot hidden in the woods like a mountain cat, amber eyes burning. You jump down from your tree, weaving through the branches like smoke to try to lose the lordling who’s hot on your tail. Nothing but the sound of your labored breathing and the sounds of footfalls echo through the dark wood. You just need to get to the border, Eris won’t have the gall to cross after you. You can see the green grass of Spring, the pastel pink of the cherry blossoms grotesquely clashing with the russet hues of the forest that currently surrounds you.

You can almost smell the sickly sweet air when a hand encircles your wrist like a hot brand.

The world tips and falls, the grass slipping out from under your feet as you’re dropped into a room, landing on all fours against a hardwood floor. Bands of fire wrap around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the ground, not burning but holding you there. The tell-tale wave of nausea that means you’ve been winnowed somewhere quickly overwhelms you as you try not to heave onto the plush burgundy rug infront of you.

Eris has taken you to his room at Fir Hall, his private estate away from his life wrapped in court politics, you’re familiar with the home after many spy missions here. Your eyes fix on the Autumn Prince with a burning ferocity, and he does nothing but glare back down at you from where he looms above you.

“Well, well what has fallen into my trap,” He fixes you with a wolfish smile as he pulls down your mask, and your lips peel back into a snarl. “Hello Sweetheart,” he purrs as he tucks a loose hair behind your ears. “I’ve missed you, it’s very nice to see you again.” He tries to run a thumb over your bottom lip, but you snap your teeth in his direction like a feral animal and he wisely pulls his hand away.

“Bite me,” you growl out as Eris crouches down until he’s at eye level with you. A hound cornering a wild fox, it seemed the hunter had won tonight as he lets out a laugh that leaves a burning caress down your spine.

“Oh, I intend to.” He promises, stroking his hand along the back of your hair, pulling out the hair tie, and letting it fall around your face. “Now will you mind your manners?” He raises a copper brow, eyes dancing with amusement. The bond buried deep in your chest tries to wiggle free of its restraints, begging you to let it play with the other half of your soul.

“Never,” you vow to him even as the mischief in his eyes turns to longing. This is torture denying yourself of him.

But how could you not?

Beron is still High Lord, if you were to tie yourself to him you would have to abide by his rules. You would rather claw your own eyes out. And if your family ever found out, if Mor ever found out, the shame and guilt would burn more than the roaring fire in the hearth.

So you have this, you take every mission you can to Autumn and collect all the broken pieces and scraps that you can get. This is what you will allow yourself.

“I thought that would be the case,” Eris gets up and languidly strolls away from you, plucking the bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and pouring himself a drink. You watch with adept interest as his ring-clad fingers tighten around the crystalline glass, he strolls over to his bookshelf and plucks a well-loved novel off the dark shelf.

Then the bastard settles himself into one of the plush armchairs and starts to fucking read. He ignores you as though you’re nothing more than a potted plant in the corner, he doesn’t even so much as glance at you, fully enraptured in his novel. A few minutes pass when you clear your throat. Eris deigns to look bored as he lazily turns his head toward you.

“Yes?” He asks, propping the book against one knee and taking another sip of his whiskey. Your eyes track the movement of his throat involuntarily.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” You push, urging him with your eyes as you lift your head through the curtain of your hair. You hope your gaze communicates everything you cannot bring yourself to voice, fearing your body will refuse to allow you air if you try.

I love you, please don’t ignore me, I need you, play with me

He chuckles a dark sound and picks up his book again, pointedly flicking a page as the rubies on his hands glint in the firelight.

“I’m not in the business of playing with unwilling toys,” Eris supplies, purposely staring at the fire instead of you. “Perhaps I should call Rhysand to collect you and tell him I don’t appreciate being spied on. Perhaps, he will never send you back here.” His brows scrunch in frustration but you both know that the threat is empty. It seems he is tired of your games.

“What do you want?” You barely grind out, still refusing to relent to the signing inside your soul. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Princely bastard.” You practically spit, and faster than the blink of an eye Eris is in front of you, fisting your hair in one hand and tilting your chin to meet his smoldering gaze.

“Are you ashamed of me?” He questions, and you can see the vulnerability dancing in his eyes. You shake your head as the fire binding your wrists recedes and you move into a more comfortable kneeling position, hands now bound in front of you. He soothes his hand along your cheek again as your brows knit together. You thought that the two of you had a kind of understanding. You had no idea where this was coming from. “I tire of this ruse, my love.” If Eris notices the mournful look in your eyes he says nothing. He strokes a warm hand through your hair, admiring your eyes in the firelight. “Why don’t you show me how much you missed me huh?” The wolfish grin is back and you hum your agreement as he runs his thumb along your bottom lip again, pleased at your cooperation as he slides his finger into your mouth. He thrusts it into your mouth and as you teasingly run your tongue over the pad he lets out a moan that shoots straight to your core.

He undoes the belt at his waist, pulling his cock out with his hand, and your mouth waters at the sheer size of him.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” he rumbles, pure authority and power radiating off of him. A glimpse at the future ruler he will become one day. You nod your enthusiastic consent as he grips the back of your head and thrusts into your mouth at a merciless pace. Your head empties as he hits the back of your throat, the hand cupping the back of your hair surprisingly gentle compared to the way he was brutalizing your mouth. “That’s a good girl, take me down your throat.” It spills out of his mouth like he can’t even control it as your eyes roll back in your head at his praise. Eris pushes your mouth all the way down to the base of his dick and holds you there for a few seconds as your nose connects with his pelvic bone. He’s relentless as he uses you for his pleasure and you think that he might bruise your vocal cords.

He spills down your throat as your binds dissolve into nothing, leaving behind a warm tingling sensation where the fire licked at your limbs.

You swallow what he gave you, opening your mouth in emphasis as whiskey eyes blow wide with lust. You’re drenched at the sight of his cock already stiffening again. He walks to the mountainous bed in front of you, making himself comfortable against the pillows.

“Come here pet.” He growls fisting his cock in his hand and crooking his fingers with the other. You start to rise to your legs on sore knees, but you freeze when Eris tuts–holding his hand out to stop you. “No. I want you to crawl to me.” The order wraps around you like warm silk, voice sliding against your bones. You lower yourself back down to the floor, humiliation burning hot on your cheeks as you sway your hips in what you hope to be enticing. He stops you quickly and you look up at him from under fluttering lashes. “Strip. Slowly.” Your face burns even hotter and Eris can’t take his eyes off you as you rise, slowly undoing every single buckle on your leathers and letting them fall to the floor, leaving you entirely exposed to him before climbing onto the bed. His body is so warm against your skin as he draws your mouth to his, the burning taste of cinnamon whiskey floods your mouth. He dominates you even here, claiming you as his tongue wrestles with yours. The moan that slips out of you comes out scratchy from the abuse of your throat, and in a flash, you’re below him as he grinds his hips into yours.

“Eris,” you whimper as his cock brushes against your folds. You need him to fill you to the brim, wanting him as close as possible. He shushes you gently as he bites at your pulse point, the only goal in his mind is to claim as he sucks dark marks into your neck.

You’ll surely be wearing only turtle necks for a few weeks after this.

His warm hands skate down your body, pulling and prodding at your sensitive nipples, letting out a dark chuckle as you whine at his ministrations. Eris mocks your moans as he rubs a finger at your center, rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves between his fingers. Finally, he slips a finger inside of you rubbing at the spot that makes you see stars. He knows exactly where to touch to get you to dissolve, his beautiful mate bending to him like water running through his fingertips. That ring-clad hand curls around your throat, cold metal contrasting with his warm hands, and you keen as the pleasant dizzy feeling takes over your whole body.

That feeling combined with the addition of another finger in your core sends you hurtling through gold-flecked oblivion.

He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them into his mouth and moaning as he relishes the taste of you on his tongue. Staring down at your shaking form with smugness in his eyes as he circles the skin of your inner thigh, enjoying the way the muscles quiver under his touch. Eris sinks himself into you, inch by tortuous inch until you can’t tell where your body ends and he begins. He strokes slowly and deliberately, bruising you with his intensity as your vision goes white with searing pleasure every time he moves his hips.

You want him to leave his imprint everywhere on your body, that unanswered bond begging you to never leave this bed again. Eris must feel it too, that golden thread wrapping around his heart begging him to keep you, to never let another male so much as look at you. That makes something ugly twist in his chest and he almost snarls at even the thought of another male near you as his instincts take over and he draws your legs over his shoulders to hit an even deeper part inside of you. Your walls are clenching and fluttering around him as his pace turns ravenous, all you can do is try to hold on as your nails scrape jagged lines down his back. Eris scrapes his teeth over your neck, then he moves down to your nipple biting down as you scream his name before giving the other one equal attention.

“Who do you belong to pet?” He murmurs in your ear in time with a thrust that's so deep your eyes roll back in your head. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You can barely give him anything but a whimper as he devastates your body, pinching your clit in a way that elicits a pleasure-soaked sob. “Scream it for me,” he punctuates it with a slap against the apex of your thighs.

“Yours Eris, I’m all yours!” You scream as you orgasm, tears running down your flushed cheeks, Eris follows soon after you spilling himself deep inside of you.

He pulls out, disappears into the bathroom, and returns with a clean rag to wipe up the mess he made between your thighs. He collapses onto the mattress next to you and pulls you to his chest, warming his hands with his power as he rubs slow circles into the small of your back. You look up at him and he’s taken aback at the vulnerability in your eyes. “Eris I-” you choke, unable to force the words you so desperately want to say past your lips. He shushes you with a kiss against your forehead.

“I know,” he mutters into your hairline “I know.” You hold him tighter, blinking back tears as you lock the bond back down in its obsidian shackles,“I’ll wait an eternity for you.” It’s the last thing you hear before closing your eyes as you let him soothe you to sleep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I trust everything went well?” Rhys asks, raising a dark brow at your form where you stand across from his desk. You subconsciously pull the dark turtleneck further up, the deep purple marks burning like a brand. You scrubbed yourself raw as soon as you winnowed yourself to your apartment, and you’re praying to the Mother that Rhys doesn’t even catch a whiff of Eris or the frankly copious amounts of sex. The thought of Eris enjoying it this morning, pressing his nose against the crook of your neck to make sure it really stuck, before crawling his way down your body to settle in between your thighs makes you triple-check that the steel of your mental shields was still in place.

“Nothing to report,” You rasp, voice destroyed after last night's events. The attempts to clear your throat are doing nothing to help you

“Are you alright?” Rhys questions, wringing his hands together on his desk as he shoots a concerned look.

“Must just be a chill I caught in Autumn, those woods get cold at night.” You supply and he hums his agreement.

“Well go rest, you’ve earned it. Perhaps you should see Madja for something to soothe your throat.” Rhys says and you nod your agreement, taking the cue for your dismissal. You wait until his office door clicks shut behind you to let out your sigh of relief, thinking of nothing but soft sheets and warm hands.

You can only hope you get another mission there soon.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #eris vanserra #eris imagine #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris vanserra smut

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danikamariewrites · 1 year ago

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Romance Books

Eris x reader

A/n: another installation of corruption kink Eris x reader but this one is really sweet

Warnings: suggestive and fluff

One of the many Mating gifts Eris has given you so far is a library. A room had been cleared out and built to be your dream library. Big windows, a reading book, and cozy furniture sat among the empty stacks. The cases waiting to be filled by you and Eris.

On your most recent date with Eris he took you into the city to buy you books. “I want you to start filling our library, my heart,” he said as he held your hands outside the bookstore. You were bouncing on the balls of your feet. Anxious to buy out the whole store for your new collection. Your books from home have been moved in already, as well as a few of Eris’s favorites from his own room.

Eris had encouraged you to buy whatever you wanted. You decided to grab a multitude of each genre. Especially romance novels. You thought learning about different aspects of relationships from different angles would be useful. Besides, you didn’t want all the romance of this mating to rest on Eris’s shoulders.

This afternoon, you once again found yourself reading one of your new smutty books in your usual spot. You had picked one of the more mild Sellyn Drake novels. Lots of kissing was in this one.

As the chapter goes on, the male character makes his way down the female's body. Kissing every part of her. Your cheeks heat and you squeeze your thighs together at the rush of arousal between your legs. Clearing your throat you shift your position. You curl up into a ball, pressing yourself against the back cushions and holding the book up to cover your crimson cheeks.

Eris watched as you repositioned yourself to be covered. He could smell your arousal from across the room. Smirking, your mate silently stood, quickly making his way over to you.

Eris plops himself down on the couch hard enough to make you bounce. The scream you let out distracted you from him plucking the steamy romance from your unusually tight grip. “Eris!” You gasp out. “Good gods! Don’t scare me like that,” a giggle escapes your lips as you swat at his chest.

“What’s got you so edge, little fox?” He hums, amber eyes skimming the page you left off on. His wicked smirk slowly spreads on his lips. “My, my little fox. I didn’t know you were reading these kinds of romance novels.” You bury your reddening face in your hands as Eris keeps reading.

“I didn’t want you to be the only romantic one.” Eris let out a breathy laugh, marking your spot and setting your book down to pull you into his arms. “Little fox, what are you talking about? You do romantic things for me everyday.” He kisses you on the head, adjusting you on his lap.

“Really?” You pull your hands from your face, resting them on his strong chest. Letting out a sigh Eris kisses your nose, “Of course. You spend time with me every day, all those little kisses you give me when you pass my desk, even putting my favorite candies on top of my papers is romantic.”

You give your sweet mate a big smile. “I love you, Eris.” Eris stops breathing for a moment. Soft, bright flames dance in his amber eyes. That’s the first time you’d ever said that to him. Eris’s smile widened, “I love you more, little fox.”

Taking the lead you closed the space between you two, slipping a hand into his fiery locks and tugging a little. You felt the bond sing as your lips moved against his. Eris pulled away sooner than you liked. He gently held your chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Now,” he whispered against your lips, “how would you like to explore what you’ve been reading about?” You felt your cheeks flush again as you nod slowly. Eris smirks and begins to kiss down your jaw to your neck. Cauldron, how did this feel even better than your lips?

Eris moved lower and lower until he was kneeling on the floor in front of you, holding your hips. “Are you gonna be a good girl for me?” His voice was deeper and smoother than you’d ever heard. The seductive tone sent a shiver down your spine rendering you speechless. Another nod was all you could muster. “Just relax, little fox. I got you.” Eris winked before slowly pushing your dress up your legs.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fic #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #acotar eris #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra acotar x reader #eris x you

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ficnoire2 · 1 month ago

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A Little Legendborn/Bloodmarked/Oathbound Nick Davis Top 15 Moments

Oathbound Spoilers Ahead!!!

Well, well, well. It appears we have finally made it to the Nick Davis portion of my series! I guess Tracy wanted to quiet the voices that said Nick was boring and only smelled like laundry. I have to say, in book three, Nick came with that energy. Bust right through the door and let you “Study him” before letting you know that he is not the one or the two.

The chaotic Gemini/Incubus is a tough act to follow, but Nicky did NOT come to play.

As a refresher, I’ll take you through Legendborn and Bloodmarked to the delicious yearning and heartstoppers of Oathbound. Happy reading.

15. Calling Bree by Her Whole “Gubment” Name

“Briana Irene Matthews! I freeze, then pivot slowly to look for the sort of asshole who calls out someone’s full name in public to get their attention.”

I love this moment because, upon rereading it in the context of what we now know, it left so many delectable clues to Nick’s character. First of all, he is bold. This is the child who denounced his throne and gave the proverbial middle finger to his father and the Order, but it also lets us peek into what he will become.

“I found out when your last class ended. Made a guess as to when you’d hit dinner, then estimated how long it’d take for you to get through the buffet line in Lenoir, find a table, and eat at that hour of the day. All I had to do was show up and wait outside the exit closest to Old East.”

This gives us a glimpse into how cunning Nick can be and how innately calculated he is. He later hits us with, “Not a creep, just clever.” He will later go on to show us how clever he can be.

14. Reminder For Selwyn

“Using the momentum of his next step, Nick throws a fast, hard punch to Sel’s jaw. The hit knocks the sorcerer back into the same oak that stunned the fox…”

“You know I can’t strike you in return.”

“In a voice made of iron, Nick says, ‘Precisely.’”

At this point in Legendborn, Nick had been attacked more than once and had been getting his ass handed to him. It was clear that he and Selwyn had a rift, but this was a show of force. A reminder, not just for Sel, but anyone else who meant to harm Bree. It also showed the imbalance of power between the two. For all of Sel’s outright disdain, this showed cracks in the mask of congeniality that Nick wore so expertly.

13. Nick Selects Bree as His Squire

“I, Nicholas Martin Davis, Scion of King Arthur Pendragon, first-ranked select Page Matthews, as my Squire. With her agreement, we will be bonded. For this war and beyond.”

Again, if Nick is nothing else, he is BOLD. I saw this as another proverbial middle finger laced with “F@%K all y’all!” The fact that he knew the tightly wound Vassels, Order folk, and some Legendborn did not like the idea of Blackness being so close to power made this moment gleeful. Of course, like Bree, he didn’t think it through, but he was ready to risk it all, come what may, as long as he had her by his side to do it. It was a moment that let the masks slip off of these puddle-deep spectators, showing that they never cared about the people, only the power and what they could siphon from being close to it.

12. Off With His Head

“Nick’s head jerks up, eyes red and shiny with grief and fury both. ‘No, you aren’t.’ In an instant, full armor flashes into place around his body, and twin blades appear in his hands. Max lunges. Faster than a Merlin, Nick’s crossed blades meet his opponent’s throat, then part–cleaving Max’s head from his body.”

“Daaaaamn!” is what I shouted when I read this. I am sure like most, I grew tired of Max and his brand of asshole. He had it coming in so many ways and I was glad that Nick was the one to give it to him. I also enjoyed how Nick has found what I like to call the “End you” point. The neck. In Oathbound, he chokes the shit out of his cousin for suggesting Bree stole his destiny.

“You choked me! Donovan croaks. He rubs at his throat while I search internally for remorse for my own actions.”

Then there is this moment with Zoe.

“‘These blades are razor-sharp and about a quarter inch from your jugulars.’ Nick’s voice is calm and deadly above me. ‘All they need is a little push.’ When I look up, I find Zoe’s red eyes glaring down at me from between Nick’s glowing aether swords. He is on one knee between us, arms up, holding the sharp edges of his blades in a tight cross beneath her throat.”

First of all the way he does not play about Bree is top tier, and secondly, this has become his move! At first, his own brutality scared him, then he decided “I like this shit!” I won’t get into the symbolism of going for the neck and the mind-body connection, but I will say that he also kisses Bree here, often.

11. Nick Flees (Goes Trouncing Through the Woods) Cue @paigeagainstdamachine

“The opening is here, now. Sel and Nick turn back to each other, eyes meeting again. Then some unspoken, silent understanding passes from charge to Kingsmage, and Sel sucks in a breath. ‘No…’”

“Nick takes one step back. Then another. And then I’m saying it, too. ‘No.’ He shakes his head, and the meaning is clear. He’s leaving. Without us.”

This moment stressed me out! I knew that Nick had to be leaving for good reason. Especially after telling Bree where they were. What we know now is that he saw Selwyn’s death at the hands of Erebus, and he was not having it. It was such a tense moment because we finally had them all together, but I know Nick is a play it close to the vest type of dude. He won’t show his hand until he needs to and this moment shows how far he is willing to go to protect those he loves.

10.Nick Goes After Bree in Arthur’s Fresh Hell

“‘No!’ Lancelot’s helmet is gone now. I can see the scruff on his chin now, the dark blonde hair matted in sweat against his forehead. ‘I can’t lose you; I won’t lose her…’”

This scene in Bloodmarked is one of those that is so hard for me to go back to. The pain and willing sacrifice from both boys do me in. I am a sucker for devotion and reverence and unwavering love. Nick is literally holding her as she continues to try to burn him away while Sel consumes her Root, knowing the outcome. This moment stings! It shows that they are willing to go to the ends of the earth for Bree, but it also shows Nick’s love and care for Sel. He is ever-present in his mind, and though their relationship has been tumultuous, you can begin to see how Nick is letting that mask of resentment slip. He says,

“‘We had faith,’ he says quietly. ‘That you’d know how to get us all out safely.’”

Bree describes his voice as a bond that encapsulates all three of them, and he describes the world being broken, essentially if the three of them were not in it together.

9. Nick Invokes the Curia

“No, I don’t think I will listen here,’” Nick says brightly. "In fact, I think you will listen to what I have to say. Every single word.”

When I say this was a boss move, and the fact that it pissed off the Regents? De-lish! In moment 15 I talked about how cunning Nick was, and I thought this was a full realization of just how cunning he could be. He used the structure of evil against itself and to read how it pissed them all off (Cestra in particular) filled me with joy. Plus, the fact that he was talking cash money shit to all of them, making them face themselves, was epic.

“Your supremacy," Nick says, brows tight. ‘Your misogyny. Your racism. Your cowardice.’”

I just know ass cheeks were clenched! Especially Aldrich (whom I hope Bree personally destroys and makes good on her words). Nick worked overtime to use his power and privilege to make the Regents bend to him.

8. Nick Reveals Abuse

“Nick scoffed. ‘Sel can hit me if it’s done in the name of 'training.’ William, you know that. He can do more than hit me if he’s been brainwashed to believe that hitting me is for my own good or praised for 'preparing' his Scion for battle. My father knew the way to Sel’s heart–and fists—was to tell him that sometimes, protection looked like violence. That was the only language Sel knew for a while. Until I renounced my title and we both learned better.”

This was another difficult scene to read. These kids have been so abused that even Willilam, with everything laid out for him, had a hard time believing his cousin would participate in such cruelty. It shows how Sel was used as a battle axe, crushing Nick in the name of duty and training. It shows how the machine of hate and power is fueled by the bodies of the young and vulnerable. It also shows that Nick is not okay. He is the veneer for the Order. He looks the part, and it does not matter to them if they break him in the process. They probably think that makes him a more formidable warrior. We saw that his father was willing to force his hand if he did not agree with his plan. The problem is, they did not count on Nick’s goodness and heart, which is hard to fathom when you have neither.

7. Nick Learns About His Inheritance

“The enhanced vision can’t be predicted or stopped. The first thing to know is that ‘vision’ is a complicated word. It’s both something you can possess and something you can receive. Something you use and something you create…”

While Donovan was a PhD level asshole, he was dropping knowledge about Lancelot’s abilities because that is what he prepared for. It was a treat to learn the inner workings of how Nick sees in the dark so to speak. That his vision is tailored to meet his King, a holy weapon in an earthly hand as it is called. It’s information such as this that lets us in on everything Nick has done in the prior two books. It explains his understanding, his running away, his rage. We see him move with much more confidence in this book because he is learning and honing his skills (as they all are), and I am here for it!

6. Nick Threatens Valec

“But when anger touches Nick, it only hardens his resolve. ‘You need to walk away, Valechaz. Now.”

“That so.’” Valec’s chin tips up, exposing glinting fangs beneath the stage lights. ‘Nicholas?'”

“Lightning flashes in Nick’s eyes. ‘A soul to kill and die for, right?’”

Well, shit! I adore Valec, but Nick said, “Not too much na!” Valec understood the assignment, and because he is also with the shits, he recognized his error and needed to step out (that made me chuckle). This is Nick’s Fuck around if you want to, era and ANYONE can get it. Nick is not one to raise his voice and rant and rave, but he has the quiet kind of rage that the well-versed in it see coming and promptly get out of the way. It is the Nick that Will saw clearly at the Curia and it scared him because he understood that this Nick would scorch the earth.

5. Spy Kids

“I send a fiery fist flying to his face, a deadly, root-powered right hook perfected from sparring with Elijah–and he catches it—God, he’s fast—grunting with the effort. Before I can jerk my fist away, he takes a slow breath—and the flames of my right hand disappear.”

The Mission Impossible vibes of this scene were palpable. One spy comes in to steal the precious object while being thwarted by another spy hell bent on doing the same. It was a far cry from Bree describing him as the newly recruited secret agent (even though he low-key was for Ava’s funky ass) at the Selection Gala. This scene shows how Nick’s precision combat and brute force made him vicious in a tight space. When he punched Bree in the face, I winced. I did however see the parallel of him kissing her in the elevator and avoiding her injury to when he did the same after they dispatched hounds on campus in Legendborn. He is attuned to her body as Sel is attuned to her essence (soul).

4. So Drown

“‘I…’” Nick steps closer. He searches my face, torment pulling at his features. His gaze claims my brows, my eyes, my lips. When he finally answers, his voice is a desperate rasp. ‘I’m drowning in you, Bree. I shouldn’t want to. I should fight it. But I can’t.’”

Lawd have mercy! My God, Tuhday! Why did Ms. Deonn make these dudes mannish! When I was this age, not one boy spoke this way, and if they did…I suppose that is a story for another day. The yearning is strong with this one! The tension here is pulled tighter than day one cornrows. I honestly don’t know how either boy was able to maintain, but the fact that he and Bree are playing married couple in this shared space is wild. His resolve is ironclad, but so is his respect for Bree (who is with the shits). The want, the desire, the heat…Tracy ain’t no good!

3. Nick Takes the Shard

“There, right at his breastbone, lies a small black fragment of metal no more than two inches long. Surrounding it is a layer of blue crosshatched magic.”

Nick revealing this arrangement with Ava was heart-sinking. He is determined to not have Bree feel the sting of Arthur’s possession again and made a huge leap to try and thwart it. He made a bargain and did not sort out the ways it could be harmful. He is not necessarily concerned with himself, but the impact to Bree and Sel. The ache from him saying that essentially, because Sel is in “Demonia” his loss will not hurt as much. The thought that he sat with this and thought about the impact without truly internalizing the hurt had me shaking my head. The implication is that this is a journey that he will need to take on his own. He says,

“Let me do this.”

Followed by “Not for this,” in reference to Bree reminding him that it’s “You and me.”

The parallel to the Firefly scene where Sel also utters “Not for this,” in reference to not trusting Bree to keep her eyes covered. The through-line of a character doing or not doing something that would call into question their logic and trust regarding their decisions. The way these three are willing to fall on the sword for each other is a painful reality that all of them have readily faced. I can’t wait to see how this unfolds in the last book.

2. My Blade is Yours

“When I finally whisper, ‘And if I want to burn it all to the ground?’ His answer is a quick grin against my lips. ‘My blade is yours.’”

The heat of the rooftop scene almost set my book ablaze. Almost melted my earbuds and fused them to my eardrums. Excuse me?! Considering that Nick and his clever hands had Bree rolling her hips and doing the dutty wine on his lap, this line was bathed in innuendo. The fact that his voice is described as a warning in this scene, like, are you sure? Because I am going to give you what you need right now. His focus on her throat, that mind-body connection,

“Nick paints reverence across my throat and seals wonder to my mouth.”

This scene was a culmination of him holding back, but giving Bree what she needed in the moment, what she asked for. He puts on full display his control of himself and his tenderness. He gives room for her be vulnerable, he listens to what she wants, he gives her space to think. He operates in her want, her desire. Come on, then Davis!

1. Confession

Look at you, you made it to my number one Nick moment. I hope you are okay! The scene at Penumbra when Nick takes on not only his questions but Bree’s had me taking a walk after I read it. When Mikael asks if he suspected something more than friendship with Sel, Nick says,

“I don’t think it; I know it.”

Nick says this through clenched teeth, from the fight to resist the demon and his feelings. When Mikael asks him how it makes him feel, he says,

“Relief, our lives are hard. Short. They both deserve happiness where they find it. Heartache. Because I don’t know what or how I’ll feel if…if their happiness is found with each other.”

When Mikael asks why he is not angry with Bree/Iris, he says,

“Because she is worthy. And while I have lost my faith in the world…I never lose faith in her.”

Nick lays himself bare in this chapter. The confession of knowing that she and Sel share an intimacy, a love (even if it is not named as such from her), a closeness and that he would be willing to accept that if they decided to take it further was like Mikael took that dagger to my chest. Sel also does this in the woods when Bree kisses him. He stops her and basically says he does not want her like this, especially if the three of them have not talked.

They not only prioritize Bree, but they prioritize each other. Though I know the two of them would internally melt if she chose one over the other, nobel shit aside, I love how Nick and Sel love each other. He reveals he ran into the woods because he saw Sel’s death. In Legendborn (shoutout @justbrainrot), he decided to answer Arthur’s call because he saw Rhaz hit Sel, possibly causing his death.

It is the love he has inside of him that wraps Bree and Sel in its safety. Loving people that deeply is a bond older than anything the Order can fathom. It is something the Shadow King cannot relate to, which is why his court is in shambles. It is the connective tissue that will see them defeat the Regents, the Order, and the deadbeat Shadow Daddy.

They won’t know what hit them.

Whew! You made it to the end! That was a hell of a ride, wasn’t it? What are some of your favorite moments from Mr. Davis?

#oathbound #bree mathews #nick davis #tracy deonn

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gingernut1314 · 3 months ago

Note

Hi thereeee!! Love your Kusuriuri. You write him SO WELL.

Saw your requests were open and couldn’t stop myself from sending one for the Medicine Seller (whichever version you want).

Maybe something where reader and him are in an relationship, she follows him in his quests. Reader speaks of marriage, asking if he’d be interested… and you can decide how that goes!

(Sending this request a second time as I would rather it being anon if you do use the idea, kinda forgot when sending HAHA <33)

Guessing Game

Content: gender-neutral reader, reader travels with Kusuriuri, slight confession of feelings, talks of marriage, Kusuriuri's thoughts on marriage, slight spiced themes, flirty Kusuriuri, based off Mononoke 2024

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: SOBBING!! Thank you for saying that omg!! This was so interesting to think/write about! I hope I did it justice and that you enjoy!!

↞ to Mononoke Masterlist | Request Rules | Blog Navigation ↠

“Tell me,” You gave a physical start at Kusuriuri’s silky voice snapping you back into focus. Started again when you found he was no longer traveling before you but right by your side, yellow-gold eyes shining in mirth at the fact you had been so distracted. “What are you thinking about?”

You felt your body heat and your palms begin to sweat in the sharp panic that pierced through your chest.

The way he was looking at you--could he tell what you had been lost in thought about? Could he tell you had been unable to get that ceremony out of your mind? A ceremony between a lovely couple who had looked at each other like they were the sole reason they still drew breath?

He couldn’t tell that’s what you were thinking of…no…no way--

The corner of his half-painted lips tugged upward. His blue-painted eyelids grew slightly hooded, making him look all too devious.

“What?” You bit in mock irritation to try and cover your bubbling nerves. “I’m hardly thinking of anything.”

“Lier.” He purred, leaning in closer to show you the utter delight this budding conversation was bringing him.

“Hardly.” You gruffed, turning your attention back onto the dirt path you two were following to get to the next town. If you didn’t look at him, maybe, just maybe, he would leave it be…but you knew you were foolish in such a hope.

“Shall I make a game of guessing?” He asked, tilting his head in just the right way for you to be able to see his growing grin out of the corner of your eye. To see that white and red-tipped hair flow around his face in a way that got all that thinking you were trying to avoid starting back up.

“There is no game to be had because I am thinking nothing of subsistence.”

“Ah…I see.” He gave a small nod of his head and you felt yourself relax the slightest bit. Maybe you hadn’t been all that foolish.

“Yes. Thank--”

“Something absolutely filthy then.” He spoke on velvet-dripped tones. Your body tensed up all over again. Tensed up so tight you thought something might snap under the sudden pressure. His words had you coming to a shocked standstill, head snapping around to gaze upon him fully.

All he did was smirk all too happily your way, a honeyed chuckle sounding from his chest.

“Did I guess correctly?” He took one long stride forward which brought him right back into your orbit. “You know,” He smoothed, eyes drinking you in and making you feel like you could catch fire at any moment. “I am more than happy to make any daydreams of yours a reality--”

“I was not thinking about that!” Your voice came out all too flustered for your own good because it only seemed to solidify his guess as right. “I was thinking what you thought about--” You almost choked on your own words in your attempt to keep from spilling them.

One of his circular, blue and red-painted brow rose in question. “What I thought about…?” He let the words glide slowly over his tongue. You watched him angle his head slightly to the side like some overly curious cat--overly curious fox.

“The sun is setting and we have yet to make it even halfway to the next town.” You rushed, starting back over the path.

“Come now,” Kusuriuri called after you. “Since when have I known you to be so timid around me?” His voice sounded next to you once more, as if he hadn’t fallen once out of step with you.

“I am not timid.” You again kept your eyes trained on the road ahead. On how there were a few large rocks on the side of it, some trees of the brightest green, and most definitely not on your former thoughts.

“Exactly.” He spoke in too much excitement. Excitement that had you casting a sharp glace filled with mock irritation his way. “Never. You let it known your opinions and thoughts regardless of who you are speaking them to. Least of all me.”

He was right. Very right. You were steadfast in your beliefs. In speaking your mind and letting it be known to all they could not change it. You didn’t care what anyone thought of you in turn but…that was exactly the problem, wasn’t it?

You found you cared about what his response would be. What his thoughts would be.

It frustrated you more than anything you’d ever been frustrated with before.

The brush of knuckles over your had you blinking away your worries and frustrations. Knuckles that guided your hand into his, which he held firm. His touch had you looking into those eyes of liquid gold. Eyes you could get lost in--could always find such comfort in.

“That wedding…it’s got me playing my own guessing game.” Kusuriuri kept still except for that of his elegant strides down the path. You had his full attention undivided attention. “The topic of which is what your thoughts on such things are.” He gave you a small nod, a hum on his lips as he mulled the topic over.

“It was a nice ceremony.” You nodded in agreement. “I see no problem with them. Though, I have seen one too many marriages end in the birth of a mononoke.”

“Oh…yes.” Your words came out soft despite your want to keep them even.

Of course, you thought, he wouldn’t want that.

Kusuriuri tugged on your hand lightly, bringing your attention once more away from your thoughts.

“Something tells me that is not the true topic. Only part of it.” You watched him closely…saw no judgment shining in his eyes at this line of conversion. At the notion that there was more to your thoughts.

“Have you thought about it? Marriage?” You started, fingers tightening the smallest bit around his. “About getting married yourself?”

“Marriage is not something I was brought into this world for.” You felt yourself grow--disappointed. You knew you shouldn’t have let him egg you to voice your thoughts. Knew you should have tried to keep such thoughts far from your mind. “I was meant to be alone. Forever. My purpose is tied to the will of the sword I carry.”

“I see.” You murmured, forcing a small, toothless smile to your lips.

And Kusuriuri--he smirked. Like he was amused by your dulled mood. You almost snapped your hand away from his just for looking as such when he leaned forward.

“Though, I am hardly alone now, am I?” You--blinked at him, not quite sure where he was going with this. “I have done many things I was not meant to do.” He continued, “The hands I hold were only ever meant to guide. The skin I touch only meant to be felt in the protection of its master. The secrets shared with me only meant to release the sword that guides my being.”

He stopped walking then, pulling you to a stop with him. His eyes were steady as they looked into your racing ones. Fingertips brushed over the round of your cheek…danced lower so that they could feel the delicate skin of your lips. Touched that sent your skin on fire.

“I was never meant to taste such sweet lips. To feel such warmth in my chest anytime I gazed upon another.” Your heart spiked at his words, sending a tingling jolt through your body. “You’ve changed things for me.”

“I have?” He gave a small nod.

“Greatly.” The smile that pulled at your lips was hardly that of a forced one. It was one sprung to life by the very joy rocketing through your soul. “I have many new things to discover thanks to you--with you, and if marriage is one of them, then I would gladly take that vow.”

You thought your heart might explode right out of your chest then and there. Thought you might melt into a giddy puddle on the ground if you kept staring into those warm eyes of his--kept listening to him go on about you in such a way.

“You are--madding.” You breathed, pulling yourself quickly away from the peddler you had come to adore to try and calm yourself.

“You’ve told me many times over.” He chuckled as you started down the path all over again. You risked a glance back at him, finding he was following after you. Finding that all too soft warmth in his eyes still shining bright as he watched you back.

“And I’ll gladly tell you a thousand more times over.”

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velvet4510 · 3 months ago

Text

A Very-Long Untangling Analysis of the Fox X-Men Continuity

Here’s my attempt at making sense of it all. All of my thoughts and ideas about continuity discrepancies and time travel piled up in one big info dump.

Please bear in mind that this interpretation is heavily biased in favor of the Days of Future Past Rogue Cut and against Apocalypse and Dark Phoenix, which hopefully won’t cause too much upset.

It also mentions Cherik as if it’s official canon because duh.

It also will cite links to various other posts I’ve made in the past which support my claims.

It also is gonna get long. Very long. Very very very very long. So proceed at your own risk.

So here’s my thesis:

The series depicts 8 separate timelines within 3 different universes.

UNIVERSE 1

Timeline 1: First Class (Charles & Erik are lovers in 1962; Moira recalls some events) ➡️ Origins: Wolverine ➡️ X-Men ➡️ X2 ➡️ The Last Stand ➡️ The Wolverine ➡️ Days of Future Past Rogue Cut dark future

Timeline 2 (overwrite of Timeline 1 starting in 1973): First Class (Charles & Erik are lovers in 1962; Moira recalls some events) ➡️ Days of Future Past Rogue Cut 1973 events ➡️ Erik remains true to himself in the aftermath ➡️ Days of Future Past new 2023 with history-teacher Logan

UNIVERSE 2

Timeline 3: Events similar to the OG trilogy ➡️ Deadpool ➡️ Deadpool 2 Original Events (Russell becomes a killer) ➡️ Logan ➡️ The New Mutants ➡️ Cable’s family dies ➡️ Laura gets pruned

Timeline 4 (divergence of Timeline 3): Deadpool ➡️ Deadpool 2 main events (Cable time-travels, Vanessa dies, Wade stops Russell and dies)

Timeline 5 (divergence of Timeline 4): Deadpool ➡️ Deadpool 2 climactic time-travel (Cable saves Wade)

Timeline 6 (divergence of Timeline 3): Deadpool ➡️ Deadpool 2 post-credits scene (Wade saves Vanessa) ➡️ Deadpool & Wolverine

UNIVERSE 3

Timeline 7: First Class (Charles & Erik remain just friends; Moira recalls nothing) ➡️ Events similar to OG trilogy ➡️ DOFP Theatrical Cut dark future

Timeline 8 (overwrite of Timeline 7 starting in 1973): First Class (Charles & Erik remain just friends; Moira recalls nothing) ➡️ DOFP Theatrical Cut 1973 events ➡️ Erik betrays his values and settles down with Magda ➡️ Apocalypse (part or all dream) ➡️ Dark Phoenix (dream)

Now I will elaborate.

TIMELINES VS UNIVERSES

First off, “timelines” and “universes” are confusing terms in Marvel. Some say they’re the same thing, others say they’re separate things. But I believe the ultimate answer to this question can be found in What If…? Season 1 Episode 4, in which the Ancient One creates a split that forms two timelines (and thus two variants of Dr. Strange) in one universe. Since this is canonically possible, I think it explains many of the X-Men series’ discrepancies.

THEY CANNOT ALL BE IN 1 UNIVERSE

Secondly, I’m sorry to Deadpool & Wolverine, but there is absolutely no way that every film in the Fox series takes place in the same universe. There are way too many inconsistencies for that to be possible. I know such a notion takes away a bit from the impact of Wade and Logan’s efforts to save that universe, and Logan replacing the anchor being, but still. It just doesn’t add up. The film’s events are direct follow-ups to DP 1 and 2, and to Logan. Wade’s universe is dying because of Logan’s death in Logan. OK, so those 4 films happen in the same universe for sure. But none of the other films do.

DIFFERENT TIME TRAVEL RULES

One major reason there are multiple universes at play here is that the series depicts two different kinds of time travel that have two different repercussions:

Kitty Pryde’s consciousness projection, which rewrites history

Cable’s device, which causes timeline branching and universe-hopping (just like MCU quantum time travel)

So Logan’s time travel in DOFP overwrote/erased his original timeline (the events of Origins, the OG trilogy, and The Wolverine) … whereas Cable’s time travel in DP 2 split his universe into multiple timelines. (This is proven by the fact that even though Wade lives in a timeline where Vanessa is alive in DP&W, the universe is still dying because of the events of Logan. So none of Cable’s time traveling in DP 2 overwrote/erased Logan.)

These are two different rules of time travel, which makes it all the more likely that they happen in different universes.

Therefore, any universe in which Logan time-traveled to stop the Sentinels is NOT the same universe as the DP/Logan universe.

OTHER CONTINUITY ISSUES

Wade is in his 30s in Origins, which is set in 1979 … and Wade is in his 30s in the DP films, which is set in the 2010s.

Warren Worthington III is 12 years old in 1996 at the beginning of The Last Stand and a young adult during the main events in the 2000s … and he is a young adult in 1983 in Apocalypse.

Colossus has an American accent in the OG trilogy and a Russian accent in the DP films.

Mutant children are seen thriving in 2023 at the end of DOFP, whereas in the world of Logan, mutants stopped being born in 2004.

Which brings me to one of my most major arguments here:

THE CONSEQUENCES OF LOGAN’S TIME TRAVEL

Logan’s time-travel in DOFP only changed history starting in 1973; everything that came before 1973 stayed exactly the same in that universe. So we cannot possibly say that DOFP caused Wade to be born decades later or Warren to be born decades earlier in its new timeline. That is impossible.

Also, the children at the end of DOFP are irrefutable proof that Logan did not wake up in a world where mutants have been dying out since 2004 and where he and Charles are destined to be killed by X-24. That is impossible.

Therefore, neither Apocalypse nor the DP films nor Logan can possibly take place in Universe 1 (the same universe as the OG trilogy or Origins).

WHAT ABOUT THE DISCREPANCIES IN FIRST CLASS?

DOFP firmly establishes that despite the continuity errors, First Class is absolutely a prequel to the OG trilogy and occurs in the same universe. In this post, I lay out in detail how the few plot holes between these films may be logically explained.

THE X-MEN’S CAMEO IN DEADPOOL 2

All I can say is this is obviously a meta joke created in Wade’s head for the audience. In no possible version of events do the ages of the X-Men in their brief cameo in this movie make any sense.

UNIVERSE 1 vs. UNIVERSE 2

Ok, so now we’ve firmly established that:

Universe 1 consists only of FC, Origins, the OG trilogy, Wolverine, and DOFP. Its history is fully rewritten starting in 1973, so in both versions of history, Wade Wilson is always born in the 1940s and thus in his 30s in 1979 … and Warren Worthington III is always born in the 1980s and thus a child in the 90s and adult in the 2000s. Colossus emigrates from Russia to the U.S. at an early age and grows up with an American accent.

Universe 2 consists only of DP 1, DP 2, Logan, and DP&W. There was no time-travel in this world, and yet no Sentinels were created. Instead, Transigen put mutation-killing poisoning in food, which drove mutants to near-extinction by 2029. This makes 14-year-old Russell in DP 2 one of the last mutants to be born before the poisoning took effect. Cable’s and Wade’s time-traveling created multiple branches, but they all coexist in this universe. Wade Wilson was born in the 1970s, and thus he’s a thirty-something in the 2010s. Colossus grew up in Russia and thus maintained a Russian accent. After escaping the Void, Laura relocated from her original timeline (Timeline 3) to Timeline 6, while staying in the same universe.

THE DIFFERENT CUTS OF DAYS OF FUTURE PAST

But wait, you may say. DOFP and Apocalypse also must exist in the same universe since Apocalypse is a direct sequel to the 1973 events of DOFP. So doesn’t Apocalypse have to happen in Universe 1, as well?

Well, here’s the explanation for that:

Consider the existence of two different cuts of DOFP: the theatrical cut and the Rogue Cut.

Also consider the alternate ending filmed for DOFP, in which Logan is pulled from the river in 1973 by the real Stryker, a perfect lead-in to him being Weapon X in Apocalypse … whereas the actual DOFP ending shows Raven rescuing him that day, which changed his fate and kept him out of Stryker’s hands.

If you go beyond the meta and think about the multiverse, it becomes extremely plausible to assume that there was more than one universe in which Logan time-traveled via Kitty to stop the Sentinels.

In one of these universes (which I’ve labeled Universe 1 out of my preference for the Rogue Cut), within the dark future, Kitty’s wounds forced Erik, Charles, and Bobby to rescue Rogue to replace her, Bobby was killed, the mansion was blown up, Rogue took over Kitty’s job, and Kitty pulled Erik through the wall back into the temple when the Sentinels attacked him. Meanwhile in the past, Raven chose to stop by the mansion, steal a moment with Hank, and break Cerebro on her way to DC. After DC, she went undercover as Stryker, rescued Logan from the river, and most likely sent him to safety at the mansion with Charles and Hank.

In the other universe (which I’ve labeled Universe 3), Kitty kept Logan in the past through to the end, Bobby stayed and died in the temple, and Blink sent Erik back into the temple with a portal. Meanwhile in the past, Raven flew directly from Paris to DC and Charles used Cerebro to deduce her destination. After DC, Raven went her own way, and Stryker himself pulled Logan from the river and turned him into Weapon X.

APOCALYPSE AND DARK PHOENIX AS MERE BAD DREAMS

Now you’ll also notice I wrote the word “dream” next to Apocalypse and Dark Phoenix in my outline of Universe 3. And here’s where the bias comes in. Apocalypse and Dark Phoenix make so little sense that, as I also mentioned in this post, I declare they are no more than bad dreams in Erik’s and Charles’ heads at some point after 1973 in Universe 3.

Dark Phoenix in particular, just unfolds like a dream. None of the characters’ actions make any logical sense based on what we know about them. It all just feels like Charles’ worst nightmare of being suddenly abandoned and betrayed by everyone he loves, via either death or rejection … because IT IS.

Apocalypse is more complicated. It’s not as bad as Dark Phoenix but it’s also pretty darn stupid in many ways.

I laid out in great detail in this post why Erik’s family plotline makes zero sense for his character, Cherik or no Cherik. This is why I wrote that in Universe 1, Erik “remains true to himself in the aftermath of DOFP.” This fic and this fic and this fic (none of which are mine) are examples of in-character behavior for Erik which I imagine resemble his post-DOFP actions in that reality.

I also feel it doesn’t make any sense that Peter isn’t already a student at the school in 1983. There’s literally no reason why Charles wouldn’t have sought him out as his first student when he reopened the school in 1973, after the events of DOFP. It’s totally implausible that it would take 10 years for Peter to get involved with the X-Men again.

The abomination that is the fridging of Magda and Nina speaks for itself.

The abomination that is Peter not telling Erik they’re related at the most opportune moment also speaks for itself.

So this movie might be entirely a dream as well; I’d be fine with that.

APOCALYPSE AS PARTIALLY A DREAM

However, I included Apocalypse in Universe 3 as possibly “part dream” for a few reasons.

Despite the film’s stupidity, I expressed in this post the missed opportunity that is Erik’s young zoolingual daughter Nina Górska. And in this post and this post, I expressed my fondness for a version of events where Nina survived and grew up thriving at the school with her siblings. Nina’s very existence stems from Erik behaving totally OOC after DOFP … and yet I can’t help but love her as her own character. If the writers were gonna make Erik behave in an OOC way for her to exist, then they should’ve gone all the way in letting her actually be a damn character.

I also expressed in this post how Erik settling down with someone who isn’t Charles makes very little sense if they got together during First Class. It could be somewhat more plausible if this is a version of events where they did NOT get together then.

I also mentioned in this post the inconsistency of Moira’s memories at the end of First Class and in Apocalypse. This could only be fixed by there being two different versions of events: one where Charles only erased some of her memories, and one where he erased all of them.

Which is why I labeled Universe 3 as containing “First Class (Charles & Erik remain just friends; Moira recalls nothing)” and “Erik betrays his values and settles down with Magda.”

It also could be that in Universe 3, the deleted scenes between Charles and Moira in First Class canonically happened, thus explaining his fixation on her in Apocalypse. In 1962, Charles & Erik remained on a river in Egypt, and Charles was with Moira. Thus in the 1970s, Erik finds himself capable of settling down with a random woman (even though my other reasons for this making no sense still stand, but for the sake of allowing for a world where Nina lives, I’ll let it go just for that).

NINA’S “DEATH”

Therefore, it’s somewhat possible that in Universe 3, the first third of Apocalypse is real, leading up to the moment Erik agrees to surrender himself to the Polish police.

From Nina’s death onward, the rest of the film is a nightmare of Erik’s, in which his mind envisions that he lost his beloved daughter that day and then was coerced by En Sabah Nur into becoming a mass murderer and hurting Charles and he never learned the truth about Peter.

If you think about it, Nina’s death scene in the film actually plays out like a nightmare would. Notice how even though she’s crying and screaming for her dad, she doesn’t move. She doesn’t struggle to pull away from her mom and run toward her dad. When her mom kneels in front of her, she doesn’t resist. No 8-year-old kid would be standing totally still in this situation, without flinching. Also Erik doesn’t make any more efforts to comfort her as she’s crying. He just silently stares at her, watching her scream, then silently stares at the attacking birds. Nor does Magda do anything effective; her words translate to “stop, Nina, stop!” No “we’ll be ok,” “he’s not gonna get hurt,” nothing that would actually calm Nina down. Then of course, the arrow hitting TWO people when the dude ISN’T EVEN LOOKING defies all logic and all reality. The whole thing only makes sense as Erik’s nightmare. We’ve all had those bad dreams where we want to move but we can’t, we’re frozen and unable to do what we want to do as something scary is coming at us. That’s exactly how Erik, Magda, and Nina all behave in this scene.

In reality, when Erik gave himself up in Universe 3, basically, the events of this fic unfolded. This isn’t my own fic, all credit belongs to its author WaxRhapsodic, but it is so unbelievably great that I declare it’s what really happened in this world.

To summarize, Nina was injured but not killed by the arrow that killed Magda, then Erik & Nina moved to the mansion, where Nina bonded closely with Charles and Peter, Wanda and Lorna joined the school, and Erik & Charles finally got together.

THE OG TRILOGY AND LOGAN

Lastly, you may notice I also put “events similar to the OG trilogy” in my outline of Universe 2. Why did I do this?

There are many hints in Logan that something similar to the OG trilogy happened in that world.

Charles references the Statue of Liberty incident from X-Men 1, which never happened in a world where Logan time-traveled.

In a deleted scene, Charles claims Logan was married to Jean before he killed her. This could be true or it could be Charles’ confusion in his dementia.

Jean’s absence from the story is glaring: considering her power level, it is quite unlikely that Charles could’ve killed her in the Westchester Incident.

Thus, in this world, the events of the OG trilogy including The Last Stand must have happened. But instead of Sentinels, humans weaponized the anti-mutant food poisoning to wipe out mutants once the cure proved to be a failure. So by the time of the Westchester Incident, Jean was already dead.

This explains Charles’ condition in Logan. His disease is not the result of mere old age. It is a result of 3 things:

The impact of the food poisoning on his mutation as well as his overall health.

His mind struggling to remain in harmony with his twin brother’s body which he inhabited in the post-credits scene of The Last Stand after the Phoenix destroyed his original body. (In Universe 1, the Sentinel apocalypse unfolded before the negative longterm side effects of his consciousness transference could take hold.)

Erik’s absence, which can only be explained by his death prior to the film’s events. In this post and this post, I theorize in more depth that his sudden death was the final straw for Charles’ mental health that triggered the Westchester Incident.

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quadrantadvisor · 1 month ago

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Batfam Secret Garden au?

Tim as Mary, the neglected orphaned child of rich socialite parents who moves into a large and forboding manor owned by a man they've never met

Damian as Colin, the lord of the house's hidden sickly son with an imperious manner

Dick as Martha, the kind natured house servant who first starts to break though our protagonist's walls

Jason as Dickon, Martha's younger sibling, who has such a way with the world around him that he seems to be magic

And of course Bruce as Mr. Craven, a man so preoccupied by his grief that he can't see what's right in front of him

Book quote examples under the cut:

[...] her mother had been a great beauty who cared only to go to parties and amuse herself with gay people. She had not wanted a little girl at all, and when Mary was born she handed her over to the care of an Ayah, who was made to understand that if she wished to please the Mem Sahib she must keep the child out of sight as much as possible.

"Oh!" cried Mary, "is he [Mr. Craven] going away to-morrow? I am so glad!"

"He's goin' for a long time. He mayn't come back till autumn or winter. He's goin' to travel in foreign places. He's always doin' it."

"Oh! I'm so glad—so glad!" said Mary thankfully.

Mistress Mary went a step nearer to the robin and looked at him very hard.

"I'm lonely," she said.

She had not known before that this was one of the things which made her feel sour and cross. She seemed to find it out when the robin looked at her and she looked at the robin.

"I like Dickon," added Mary. "And I've never seen him."

"Well," said Martha stoutly, "I've told thee that th' very birds likes him an' th' rabbits an' wild sheep an' ponies, an' th' foxes themselves. I wonder," staring at her reflectively, "what Dickon would think of thee?"

"He wouldn't like me," said Mary in her stiff, cold little way. "No one does."

Martha looked reflective again.

"How does tha' like thysel'?" she inquired, really quite as if she were curious to know.

Mary hesitated a moment and thought it over. "Not at all—really," she answered. "But I never thought of that before."

Secretly [Mary] quite believed that Dickon worked Magic, of course good Magic, on everything near him and that was why people liked him so much and wild creatures knew he was their friend.

At first the robin watched Mary and Colin with sharp anxiety. For some mysterious reason he knew he need not watch Dickon. The first moment he set his dew-bright black eye on Dickon he knew he was not a stranger but a sort of robin without beak or feathers.

Even Mary had found out that one of Colin's chief peculiarities was that he did not know in the least what a rude little brute he was with his way of ordering people about. He had lived on a sort of desert island all his life and as he had been the king of it he had made his own manners and had had no one to compare himself with.

[Mr. Craven] had not meant to be a bad father, but he had not felt like a father at all. He had supplied doctors and nurses and luxuries, but he had shrunk from the mere thought of the boy and had buried himself in his own misery.

Colin put out his hand and laid it on his father's arm.

"Aren't you glad, Father?" he ended.

"Aren't you glad? I'm going to live forever and ever and ever!"

Mr. Craven put his hands on both the boy's shoulders and held him still. He knew he dared not even try to speak for a moment.

"Take me into the garden, my boy," he said at last. "And tell me all about it."

#the dick/martha comparison is the weakest of course #really jason and dick are both dickon #and tim and damian are both mary and colin #and really what I want isn't this sort of au thing I proposed #it's a pretentious literary reference fanfic where Jason read The Secret Garden as a kid and thinks about it when he looks at Tim and Damia #and thinks about rich parents who never wanted children and how a run out in the cold wind can bring healthy color to even the palest cheek #and little boys who never learned better than to be disagreeable and how sometimes the best thing for a spoiled child is to argue with him #and about robins and Magic and deciding to live forever and ever and ever #do you see my vision #dc #batfam #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #the secret garden

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sunshineneedsaplacetokeephernsfw · 7 months ago

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Curse Week - Harrison

Day 14 | Lying Fox's curse (lie detection)

Kinktober masterlist

Gender-neutral reader (genitals not specified)

Word count: 1.2k

18+, established relationship, teasing, slight humiliation, grinding, oral (receiving), minimal editing

A/n: It's finally done! Sorry this is so much later than usual. I was too tired to write much last night and I really struggled writing it, which is why I'm surprised about how long it is

“It wasn’t anything special, and had a lot of cliches, but it was so fun to read,” you paced in your boyfriend's room as you rambled to him about a book you read. It was an erotica, but he didn’t need to know that detail.

He amused you and listened with a smile on his face. “Really?”

“Yeah! I actually really liked the themes, which were actually pretty well woven into the scenes, and their relationship had a surprising amount of depth considering how much they were-” oops.

Maybe you could have saved it, but you already paused too long.

He titled his head. “What type of book was it?”

“...A normal book?”

He smirked and closed his own book. “Was it an erotica?”

Your face flushed. You avoided his gaze.

He stood and walked over to you. He leaned in close. The smell of mint invaded your senses. “What was it about?”

“I don't want to answer that.” Maybe not saying only made it worse, because now it looked like you had some dirty kink to hide, and now he looked more interested.

“What was the name?”

You kept rotating to turn your face away from him, but he kept following you with an amused smile.

“‘Taken by a Villain’,” you finally answered.

His eyes widened then he laughed.

Your face burned with embarrassment. “Don't laugh,” you whined.

“Why are you reading a villain erotica when you already have one?” He pulled you into him and hugged your side to his chest. Your muscles immediately melted into him.

“I was curious. I was only going to skim the first chapter, but then I got caught up.”

“That's a lie.”

“So what if it is! I was half considering stopping after a few pages when I picked it up.”

He looked at you.

“... a quarter considering putting it down. Okay, it had some tropes that I liked.” Ones that you found hot to be specific.

A soft look appeared in his eyes before the teasing look came back. “What part turned you on the most?”

Your face was a furnace. The rest of your body was reacting too. You clenched your thighs together.

“Why do you want to know?” You said.

The softness returned to his face, making your heart melt. “Hmm, I want to know what my partner is into so I can make them feel the best.”

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. Your lips parted as you stared at him.

“What are you making such a cute face for?” Harrison pulled you by the waist down onto the bed. He quickly rolled over top of you. His arms on either side of you as he stared down into your face.

“Did this happen in your book?”

“Yes.” A lot.

“And did you like it.”

“Yes.”

“Do you like it when I do it?”

Your face grew warmer. “No?”

He smiled. “I don’t even need to look in your eyes to know you’re lying.”

The look in his eyes changed back to lustful. He shifted and you felt a knee pressed between your legs. You stifled the sound in your throat.

“Does this turn you on? Want me to do it more?”

Your sex throbbed against him. Embarrassment flooded through you at his words. “No.”

“Liar.”

His hands slid down your body. Each nerve reacted. “What about this?”

“No.” Yes

“You know, your body’s being a lot more honest than you are.”

He wasn’t wrong. You were squirming and trying desperately to not press up into his touch.

“You were being so shameless talking about dirty stuff you were reading earlier. I bet you even touched yourself to it. Why so shy now?”

Your face felt way too warm. It’s not fair that he had such an effect on you. “Because it’s you. You make me feel a lot even when it’s tame.”

His eyes widened for a second. He let out a small laugh. “I never thought I could use my curse like this.”

You smiled. The emotions were too much for a second and you turned your face away into the pillow. Your hands were suddenly pinned above your head and you were forced to look at him. His fingers on his free hand held your chin firmly but gently. He drank in your expression. His eyes read you like a book. His favorite.

“W-what was that for?” you stammered out.

“I wanted to see every expression. Do you not like it?”

You smiled. “I like it.”

He wrapped his arms around you in a hug. His face in your neck as he kissed up and down it. The heat pulsed between your legs.

“Harry?” You pulled his back just a bit to look into his eyes. “I want you to undress me.”

He froze for a moment before his hands gripped onto your clothes. “I think I can do that.”

He pulled them off one by one. Each ended up on the floor until you were bare on his bed. Your hips bucked up into him, trying to get some friction.

His mouth pressed all over your skin.

On your shoulder and collarbone and going down to your chest.

“You like my tongue playing with you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to go lower?”

“Yes.”

He quickly got down between your legs. You could feel the restraint in his movements as he tried to slowly tease you on his way down rather than instantly taste you. His kisses lingered as he watched your flushed expression.

He held back a groan when he finally did press his tongue against your sex. You moaned. Your back arched up. Your hands twisted in the sheets as he delved in and ran his tongue all over you. As he pleasured you and drew every sound out of you.

“I'm close.”

“Go ahead.” He pressed his mouth further onto you.

“I want you to cum too.”

You did your best to move your leg between his. Giving him a taste of his own medicine from earlier, you rubbed your leg over his crotch. He jolted and moaned into you and you nearly came on the spot.

He grinded down on your leg and you moved it as best as you could. Feeling his hot erection against you and wanting him to cum with you so badly.

One last flick of his tongue and you crashed down. Your muscles twitched as you cried out. Your muscles wouldn't obey you and you could only press your leg into his bulge harder while his hips bucked against it.

He tried to hide it, but he was breathing heavily as he slid on your leg. Moving faster and faster until he groaned.

He let his body collapse onto you. A pleasant warmth filled you at the contact. Your fingers combed through his hair. His mint green eyes met yours.

A thought came to your mind and you had to hold back a grin. “I don't think I'm ready for a round two.”

He was still catching his breath as he smiled. “I don't think I've been happier to hear a lie.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2024 #smut #ikevil #ikemen villains #ikevil smut #harrison gray x reader #ikevil harrison x reader #harrison gray #ikevil harrison

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myymi · 1 year ago

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“Sonic!” The mentioned hedgehog’s ear twitched at the call of his name, a single eye opening so he could look for who was calling for him.

It was Tails. The small fox was running towards him, a smile on his muzzle that Sonic could see clearly from his spot in the tree.

With a smile of his own forming, the teen hopped down from his perch. He stretched his arms up above his head as he watched the kit run up to him.

“Ms. Amy helped me make you something!” Tails’ smile was just about as wide as it could be as he came to a stop before the hedgehog, cupping his paws behind his back. The older couldn't help but chuckle at him, raising a brow once he noticed the batter-like substance that clung to the fur on his cheek.

He had a pretty good idea what that something is.

“Yeah?” Sonic asked softly, taking the kit’s chin in his paw to look at the batter. He licked his thumb before running it over the younger’s cheek, wiping away the batter. It smelled like chocolate.

Tails’ face scrunched up at the action, grimacing at the wet feeling running over his cheek. When the hedgehog was finished he wiggled out of his hold, using the back of his paw to wipe his cheek.

Sonic snorted as he wiped his paw on his leg, “Would that something happen to be a cake of some sort, buddy?”

“It's a surprise, Sonic!” Tails reminded, crossing his arms with a pout. The teen shook his head before raising his paws defensively–he's learned it's best to play along when his little brother adopts an attitude.

“Right, my bad.” Sonic closed his eyes and covered them with his right paw, extending the left one out to the younger. “Go on, take me to my top secret surprise, buddy.”

“You can't close your eyes now, Sonic.” The fox groaned, raising to his tiptoes to tug on the paw covering the older’s eyes. “We've gotta get to Ms. Amy's house first!” Sonic isn't sure why the kid kept calling her ‘Ms. Amy,’ she was only four years older than him. But he refused to drop the title, so they just kinda went with it. He'd grow out of it. Probably.

“Ohh, right. Obviously.” Deciding he wanted to mess with the kid a little bit more, he glanced down at the fancy little watch the fox made him. Taking note of the direction they needed to head to reach Amy's house, he turned and started walking in the opposite direction. “Let's go, then! Can't wait to–”

“Sonic!” Tails tightened his hold on the other's arm, pointing in the correct direction. “Her house is that way!”

“What? No way! it's definitely this way, li’l bro.” Sonic tugged his arm back just hard enough to pull the fox towards him a little.

Tails huffed at the action and spun his tails, taking to the air and quickly pulling the hedgehog up with him.

“Woah, woah, okay!” Sonic laughed, reaching up to pat the kid's paws. “I'll go the right way, promise.”

The kit’s eyes narrowed at his brother, but he ended up choosing to believe his word. He lowered the teen back to the ground, glancing at his own communicator to double check that he was right about the direction.

Sonic laughed and reached up to the flying fox, gently ruffling his bangs. The kit swatted his hand away, dropping to land beside him. His paws wrapped around his brother’s wrist once again so he could drag him down the path and back to the pink hedgehog’s house.

“Ease up on me, will ya, bud?” Sonic asked, though he didn't really care. He just wanted to be annoying. The fox rolled his eyes as he continued to pull his brother along. “It was an honest mistake!”

“Be happy you're still getting your gift.” Sonic wasn't really sure if it was normal for six year olds to grumble, but he figured it was best if he stopped pushing his luck. The kid had a pretty mean bite if provoked. Literally.

It was a short trip back to Amy's house. Sonic hadn't gone far on purpose, knowing the fox was still a little on edge being near others without him. It'd been a good few hours though, so he thinks it's safe to say the kiddo likes Amy.

“Found him!” Tails called out once they entered the house, letting go of the hedgehog’s wrist. He hurried to the kitchen to find the girl.

“Good!” Amy smiled sweetly at the fox as she carefully picked up a stand that held a small cake. “We worked really hard on this!”

Sonic couldn't help but snicker as he leaned against the doorway, “Figured it was a cake or something. Little guy carried some evidence in his fluff.” The kid shot him a glare, rolling his eyes when the teen winked at him.

“Well, when you have fun while baking it tends to get a bit messy.” The girl defended, walking over to present the treat to the older. “Now here!”

The cake was simple. It was small and circular, covered in a royal blue frosting with a line of bright red framing the bottom of the cake. The words ‘We Love You, Sonic!” were drawn out in, mostly, white frosting, with the ‘W’ being pink and the first ‘E’ being yellow.

Sonic could feel his heart swell up at the sight of it. It was typical of Amy to give him pastries with messages similar to this, but it was a new thing for Tails.

They didn't really vocalize their ‘I love you’s, it was just something between that went without saying. And while this wasn't technically saying it, he knew that the kid had to muster up a lot of courage for it.

With that knowledge, he carefully sped behind Amy to where the little fox was standing and trapped him in a hug. Tails squeaked at sudden contact, but started laughing when the hedgehog nuzzled his head.

“You did the decorating, didn't ya?” He asked, resting his chin atop the younger’s head. “It's just screaming you.”

“It's meant to represent you, Sonic,” Tails informed, trying his best to look up at the teen from their position.

“And it was a team effort, mister!” Amy scolded, huffing as she sat the stand on the counter. “We both baked and decorated it for you.”

“You know I'm just teasing, Ames.” Sonic sent the girl a grin, finally letting go of his little brother with a quick head ruffle, “It looks great though, really. Thanks.”

“Of course!” The pink hedgehog clapped her hands together excitedly and turned to the fox, “It was a pleasure to bake with Tails! He's really good.”

The youngest shrunk into himself at the compliment, muttering a quiet ‘thank you’ as his cheeks flushed red.

Amy smiled at him but decided to pivot away from his embarrassment, “Go ahead and sit down, I'll cut the cake!”

Sonic didn't argue with her and sat down at the table. Tails pushed a chair over so he could sit closer to his hero before climbing onto it.

“So, what flavoring did you two use, big guy?” The teen asked, emphasizing the 'two' so Amy knew he was crediting the both of them.

Tails giggled at his brother and looked over to the counter, “It's mint chocolate chip.”

“Mint, huh?” Sonic raised a brow, just barely managing to repress his snicker at the choice. “You sure this is for me?”

“No, the mint's for me. You won't eat the whole cake anyways.” The kit admitted looking down to his paws as he toyed with his gloves, his legs gently kicking as he waited for the treat.

“That is what's mainly for you.” Amy said as she sat the cake stand onto the table, nodding over to a small box on the counter next to the sink. “It's stuff for chili dogs for you two to cook later.”

“Oh, Ames, you didn't have to do that.” Sonic rubbed the back of his neck. He's mentioned struggling a little to get himself full meals with Tails tagging along, but he didn't mean to make her think she had to supply his food.

“It's no problem, Sonic!” The girl simply waved him off before using her knife to carefully pick up a slice of the cake and set it on Tails’ plate. “He mentioned how you guys have been cooking together lately and it's so cute!”

“Oh, yeah, it's a blast.” The teen decided to run with the topic change, setting his elbow on the table so he could rest his chin on his paw. “Little guy's pretty good. Won't be too long til he ends up being better than me.”

“Nuh uh! No way,” Tails firmly shook his end at that statement, moving around so he could sit on his knees to be taller. “I couldn't ever be better than you, Sonic.”

“No talking like that in my house, young man!” Amy scolded the fox with a stern look, reaching over to poke the tip of his nose. “I won't stand for it. Now let's enjoy this cake.”

Tails didn't argue, instead listening to the girl's command and taking a small bite of his slice of cake. He hummed around his fork, his twin tails wagging gently in delight.

Sonic wasn't surprised that the kid liked it. He'd eat anything mint flavored.

Meaningless conversation flowed between the three of them easily as they ate the cake. Sonic was glad that Tails was able to talk with someone other than him so effortlessly. It had been a long process, but they were making progress and that's all he cared about.

It didn't matter how long it'd take. His patience was endless when it came to his little brother, and he was more than happy to slow down for him.

#there's no angst this time i promise #just cute brother fluff #ft amy lol #i love her. i need to write her more ajsndje #miles tails prower #sonic the hedgehog #sth #tails the fox #sonic #unbreakable bond #dynamic duo #tails and amy rose #pinky lemonade #sonic and amy #myydrabs #i wanna write more for the brothers but ive gotta do chores ahhdbdjddn #life why are you so cruel

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littlefankingdom · 10 months ago

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Okay, I keep seeing this post and it had, like, 900 notes last time, so I need to respond.

Yes, Steph and Barbara are part of the batfam.

This fandom seems to not fucking understand what a found family is. A found family doesn't follow the traditional family's dynamic. People aren't blood related or legally related. Have y'all never seen a friend group in a media being referred as a found family?! That doesn't mean they are siblings, or that some of them are the parents, or that they cannot date. It just means that they are close like a family should, that they can depend on each other always and forever like a family should. Whatever happens, they are a family.

Found family is LITERALLY one of th theme of Batman. The batfam has ALWAYS been a found family. All these people who lost their blood family and found each other to fight for justice. Bruce lost his family when he was a kid, he is building a new one from the ground, and a family isn't just his children. Bruce and Alfred are not blood related, and Alfred is barely referred to as Bruce's father-figure in anything Batman related. However, he was always seen as Bruce's family. Bruce also sees some members of the Justice League as his family (Clark, for example). Lucius and Leslie have also always been his family, and Lucius is not his father at all, the man has another family, a traditional one, but he is still in the batfam. Dick spend DECADES not being adopted, but he still considered Bruce and Alfred his family. Dick also sees the Titans as his family, that doesn't make his teammates his siblings or stops him from dating them. Tim, even tho he is not Bruce's son and has a family, is referred by Dick as "his brother". Dick and Tim literally DID NOT want to be adopted by Bruce, but the man and his butler were still family for them, even when they did NOT want Bruce as their father. Cass and Bruce go through all Batgirl (2000) having a father-daughter coded relationship, and Cass and Barbara have a mother-daughter coded relationship, and her biological parents are there sometimes, and she isn't Bruce's daughter yet. Cass is both Bruce and Barbara's daughter. Barbara has always been seen as a part of the batfam since she first appeared, before a lot of us were even born, and it's not because she is Bruce's daughter or dating Dick, it's because the bats are a family that don't give a shit about traditional family's dynamic. Damian is the only one who actually call Bruce "Father", most of the time the others don't. Dick has lived 20 years with Bruce in his life, as his father-figure, and he never calls him "Dad". Some comics don't even referred to anyone than Damian as Bruce's kid. Some comics like to remind everyone that Bruce is Dick and Tim's father, but most of them do not. Most of the time, they are just a bunch of young people and teens living on his property and eating his food. And even through all of this, they were a family. It's not about blood, it's not about adoption and some papers, it's not about Bruce being your father, it's about trust.

The Wayne family and the Batfam are two different things. Huntress, Helena Bertinelli, is in the batfam. Azrael, Jean-Paul Valley, is in the batfam sometimes (in Batman: Detective Comics 2016, he is). Harley Quinn is also in the batfam sometimes (in Injustice). Lucius Fox and Luke are in the batfam. Harper and Collen Row are in the batfam, but Bruce kind of sees them as his children (in Batman and Robin Eternal at least).

People aren't a part of the batfam because they are Bruce's children, but because they choose each others, again and again, through the highs and the lows. It's about fighting Bruce, taking his shit, and still helping his ass.

And while we are it, batkids doesn’t mean "Bruce's children", it means "the kids around the big Bat, helping in the Bat's mission, that are the Bat's responsibility". YES, Barbara is a batkid, and it doesn't make Bruce her father or a father-figure. She was a kid and batgirl, so she is a batkid.

#batfam #stephanie brown #spoiler dc #barbara gordon #oracle #batgirl #batman #bruce wayne #dc comics #my ramblings #Cannot believe I have to explain this to the Batfam fandom wtf #I have never seen a fandom not understanding the concept of found family this much #and it's literally the “found family” fandom wtf?#the batfam has never been a traditional family so I don't understand wtf y'all are yapping #clowns y'all are clowns #that's also why the batfam not being blood related is important because it's the most found family of the found family

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waynemunson-is-a-dilf · 13 days ago

Text

grazed knees

You trudge back into the Forest Hills trailer park pushing your bike beside you, rain soaks your hair and creates a million pathways for the blood to escape your skinned knees. If a passer-by were to see you they would probably assume you were in a horror movie or that you had been violently stabbed in both legs.

When in reality roads are very slippery when the rain pelts down on it like this.

You had just wanted to rent a movie but when you got there you found out someone had just come in and picked up the last one. The rain felt as though it understood your feelings as you started your solemn ride home.

You were almost back home on a long stretch of open road, when a fox skirted across the road and you swerved to avoid it but managed to throw yourself from your bike in the process. Skidding painfully on your hands and knees, earning matching grazes on your palms and legs.

And now you just wanted to be warm and dry again. The weather in Indiana changed faster than you had anticipated when you first moved in at the beginning of summer. Your denim shorts and top with long flowing sleeves had been perfect for the morning's warmth but now it seems like the worst choice you could’ve made as your thighs rub against the wet denim uncomfortably and your arms were weighed down by the extra fabric that sticks to them.

You're close to your trailer when you hear a voice call out to you.

“Hey!” You see Wayne Munson leaving his trailer. He does so most evenings for his night shift but today he is stopped in his path when his eyes catch the blood trailing down your shins. “You alright, honey?”

No. “Yeah, I just fell off my bike s’all,” you reply with a smile when you’d really like to start crying.

“You got a first aid kit?” he asks, with fatherly concern.

No. “Yeah.”

The corner of his mouth kicks up a little, “and I thought Eddie was a bad liar,” he mutters to himself. “Come out of the rain, kid. The Munson’s ‘ll fix you up.”

You shake my head, embarrassed that you need their help after being neighbors for a few weeks. “I don’t want to put you out. I need to fix my bike anyway,” he raises an eyebrow, “I’m sure I have a couple plasters somewhere. Really it’s fine,” you say, with your most convincing tone, before quickly pushing your bike towards the stairs. You try to hide your wince at each step. Then get hit with a sudden trepidation at the thought of hauling your bike up the steps to the trailer with Wayne watching.

But before you can make the painful trek up the steps your bike is being taken from your side and carried across the road to the Munson trailer. “Come on,” Wayne urges gently. “I can fix your bike up for you, kid.”

You push your pride down and hobble over the road with him, already planning what to bake him as repayment for his kindness.

Cupcakes, you decide quickly.

He takes your bike up the steps then comes back down to help you slowly up the stairs. You wince at the uncomfortable stretch of your torn skin as you push yourself up each step but manage to keep any profanities out of your mouth.

He opens the door and leads you inside, before retrieving your broken bike from the rain and leaning it up by the entrance to the trailer.

You stand awkwardly as Wayne moves around the trailer in search of the first aid kit. He finds it just as the younger Munson walks into the kitchen, “didn’t you just leave for work?” he asks his uncle, clearly unaware of your presence. He’s wearing grey joggers and nothing else, they sit sinfully low on his waist and you have to make an effort not to stare.

“That was before I saw Y/N looking like she’d been mauled by a bear,” Wayne laughs a little at his own joke as he unzips the small box full of medicine.

Eddie frowns, “what?'' Then his eyes catch yours and you immediately want the floor to swallow you up.

You had managed to forget just how attractive he is in the few days since you had crossed paths last. His curls are bouncing around messily, perfectly framing his face. The kindness hidden in the depths of those eyes. The way his tattoos decorate his smooth skin…while you stand in the entryway of his home looking like a drowned rat, clothes clinging to your body and hair plastered to your skin.

“Hey,” you say quietly, deciding to stay as still as possible for fear that your shoes will squeak against the hardwood floors, or that you’ll move and have left a big rain puddle on their floor.

You’re torn away from our accidental staring contest when Wayne checks his watch and swears, he looks up at me, “I’ll fix your bike first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Really don’t worry about it,” you try to say but he doesn’t seem to hear you as he grabs his keys and makes towards the door.

“Eddie, will you help her out?” Wayne stops before the door, turning and looking at his nephew.

“I can-” you start, trying to protest.

“Yeah, sure.”

Your eyes flit back to his and he flashes you a small smile.

Waynes is already out the door by the time you remember what words are. “You really don’t have to, I’m sure I have plasters at home.”

He grins mischievously, “but you don’t have Doctor Munson, do you?”

“Doctor Munson?” you raise my eyebrows at the PhD he’d bestowed upon himself.

“Yes, welcome to my office,” he walks towards me and holds his hand out to shake. You roll your eyes but comply, falling easily into the make-believe world he was creating. “Come take a seat,” he says and you look around, not knowing what you should sit on in your soaking wet clothes.

He seems to sense my apprehension and steps behind me, holding your upper arms and guiding you away from the door and your broken bike towards the kitchen counter. You make to climb up but Eddie’s already standing before you, hands on your waist. He lifts you easily onto the counter and you’re so shocked by the action that your brain seems to forget the pain in your knees for a second.

“So,” his hands come to rest on his hips, as he looks at my raw knees, “what seems to be the problem.”

You tear your eyes away from his torso as his eyes find yours. “I, uh, fell off my bike,” he looks at you like he wants further explanation so you anxiously start to ramble. “I went to rent a film but they didn’t have it. Then it started raining as I was cycling back, then this fox ran out in front of me, and I love foxes so I swerved- in hindsight I didn’t need to swerve but I really didn’t want to be a fox murderer so I… accidently threw myself off my bike because the wheels skidded then I was skidding- fuck!” you wince when he puts the antiseptic wipe to your knee.

He looks up at you and you almost swoon. Those big brown eyes were criminally dazzling.

“Keep talking, sweetheart.”

“About what?” You ask, flinching at the uncomfortable sting.

“Anything,” he says, calmly.

You wrack your brain but suddenly the only things you can think about are what Eddie looks like from this angle and how gently he’s holding your calf as he works.

“What film were you going to rent?” he asks, keeping his focus on your knees.

“What?”

He looks up with a small smile, “you said you were going to rent a film.”

“Oh, right. I wanted to watch Breakfast Club-” You wince again as he wipes over your other knee, “it’s my favourite film but I must have forgotten to pack my tape.” He hums to let you know he’s listening. “I also just wanted to take a look around Hawkins because- jesus- fuck!”

“That was the last wipe, honey. I’m sorry. Just gonna put these over them now, okay?” he shows you the large plasters and you nod. When you stay quiet he looks up at you with raised eyebrows, clearly expecting you to continue.

“Because I still don’t really know my way around yet I was just trying to learn what's where but that’s quite difficult when you don’t actually know what anything is,” you say with a little laugh as he gently presses down on the edges of the first plaster.

When he moves onto lining up the second one he says, “I can show you around if you want, I've lived here my whole life.” He presses on the edges then steps back to marvel at his work with a small nod.

“What do you think doc, will I walk again?”

He grins at you, “I think you just might, angel.”

“Perfect,” you say, ducking your head down to hide the blush rising on your cheeks, ready to hop back down from the counter. But Eddie steps forward, hands at your waist and gently helps you back to the floor. You stand like that for a moment, as you had earlier in an accidental staring contest.

You lose.

“Um, I should get back. Wet denim isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world,” you joke, looking down at your shorts.

He scratches the back of his neck, “or you could stay here… and watch Breakfast Club with me?” he adds the last part like he owns-

“You have Breakfast Club?” you ask with an eyebrow raise. The lead singer of a metal band who you see smoking cigarettes most evenings rented your favourite film?

He sighs, “yes and you cannot tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.”

You grin at him, deciding quickly you will stay to watch your favourite film with your gorgeous neighbor. You still walk towards the door, with a small limp on each step, saying, “I’ll be right back,” over your shoulder.

But he’s faster than you and stops you before you can reach for the handle. “Where are you going?” he asks, a hint of panic in his voice.

“Just going to get changed into some dry clothes, Ed- uh, Doctor Munson,” you say with a smile, trying to sidestep him to the door. He blocks your path again, “I’ll be right back I promise.”

His brows furrow, like he’s trying to think of something. “It’s still raining.”

“So?”

“Whatever you change into will just get wet on your way back over,” he states like he’s solved the mystery of life, nodding and setting his hands on his hips.

“Eddie, it’s like a ten second walk and it’s not even raining that hard.” The end of your sentence is punctuated by a crash of thunder and the rain pelting down harder on the roof of the trailer. Eddie raises his eyebrows as if he knew that was going to happen.

“I have clothes that you can borrow,” he says, seemingly more confident with his words as he adds, “doctors orders.”

You raise an eyebrow, “as my doctor you’re ordering me to sit in your clothes and watch Breakfast Club?”

He nods with a proud smile, “it’s what all the best doctors use for their best patients. It’ll heal you right up.”

You bite your lip to hide the grin that is trying to form.

“Fine.”

#eddie stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things

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