#harpy maxwell
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Single Again
Series: None, this is a one-shot and you can find those here.
Fandom: The Royal Romance
Pairing: Riley x Liam (end game)
Rating: G
Warnings for this chapter: Lots of divorces.
Word Count: 2,171
A/N: Had a song rewrite idea and decided to whip it up even though the event is officially over. @choicesprompts
My other stuff: Master List.
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The loud clack-clack of a pair of nine hundred dollar Louis Vuitton red bottom heels echoed through The Crown Room, the formal dining area of the Ocean Side Polo Club.
Heads swung up to watch the sensuous sway of the woman’s hips as she followed the maître d’. Head up, chin out, Riley ignored the men’s salacious looks and the women’s glances and whispers.
Kiara leaned across the table to hiss at her luncheon companions, “What is she doing here? I thought the Beaumonts declined the invitation to watch this year’s charity match.”
“They did!” Penelope replied. “Bertrand is out of the country on business and Max said he had a personal matter to attend to.”
“So what?” Olivia chimed in. “A woman can’t attend an event without her husband?”
“She can,” Kiara shook her head, “But she rarely does.”
“Because they know they have to guard her!” Penelope let an uncharacteristic amount of venom lace her words. “She seduces men everywhere she goes!”
Oliva laughed as she pushed the rice pilaf around her plate. “You’re just mad she snatched Max right out from under you.”
Penelope stiffened, and then an insincere smile crossed her face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Zeke and I are very happy together.”
“Sure… now.” Olivia rolled her eyes.
“She certainly doesn’t understand boundaries,” Kiara interjected. “Drake and I had two perfectly good dates. I was expecting a call to schedule the third and the next thing I knew, he was eloping with that Jezebel to Bora Bora!”
Oliva smirked. “Well, Drake has been back on the market for a while, and from the looks of it, Maxwell is about to be as well.”
“What?” Penelope jerked her head back around to see what was going on.
Riley had just been joined by Rashad Faheem.
“So?” Penelope wasn’t following. “He’s her first ex-husband, right?”
“Yes,” Olivia affirmed. “And also, her lawyer.”
Penelope’s eyes widened. “She could just be catching up with an ex.”
“Non!” Kiara bounced in her seat excitedly. “He handled her divorce from Drake.”
“Oh! Penelope’s hands flew up to cover her mouth. Not that she cared if Max was single. “How many husbands has she divorced now? Four? Five?”
Kiara lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I heard she was secretly married to the king’s older brother!”
Olivia’s eyes cut sharply to Kiara. “If she was, it was an ill-advised mistake that was quickly corrected!”
“Oh!” Kiara grinned at the redhead. “You know something. Spill!”
“Like I would tell you if I did.” Olivia glanced back across the room to see Riley flipping through a sheaf of papers. Rashad leaned in close to her as he pointed out things on the pages. He leaned even closer and whispered something into her ear.
Riley touched his arm as her laugh rang out across the room.
“Oh yeah.” Olivia shook her head, “She’s about to be single again. Better hold onto to Zeke.”
“What?” Penelope’s eyes went wide with panic.
Kiara patted her arm. “Olivia is just teasing you. Zeke loves you.”
“Sure he does,” Olivia said dismissively as she rose. She could care less who Riley set her sights on next. She was secure in her relationship. “Let me impart a little wisdom to you harpies. If another woman can take your man from you, he was never yours.”
Olivia walked away before either of the other women could respond. She gave a polite nod to Riley as she passed her table.
Riley nodded back with a genuine smile. She liked Olivia. Mostly she liked that Olivia never seemed to judge her like the rest of the women at court.
It wasn’t her fault that she’d had more than her fair share of men. Very few people at court knew the truth about any of her marriages or bothered to give her a benefit of a doubt. No, it was much easier to villainize and look down on her.
The maître d’ approached the table and handed her a folded note. She read it quickly and then tucked it into her bag with a smile.
She reached across the table and took Rashad’s hand with a little squeeze. “Thank you for always being there for me.”
“Of course, Ya Amara.”
She blushed slightly at the old term of endearment.
He helped her to her feet and brushed his lips lightly across her cheek when it was time for them to part. Riley would always have a special place in his heart, but he had a date to get to.
Riley was greeted by a guard at the door to the restaurant. “Right this way, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Marco.” She took his arm and let him lead her out to the polo fields. “How have you been?”
“Can’t complain.” He grinned at her. “I’ve missed seeing your face around the palace.”
“You might be seeing me a little bit more now.”
“I hope so.” He stopped outside the king’s private box. “You’re good for him, you know. He’s happier when you’re around.”
“I’m happier when I’m around him.” She giggled before waving goodbye to the guard and ducking into the box.
The king of Cordonia was on his feet immediately. “Riley, you came!”
“Of course, I came, my king!”
They embraced but separated quickly. Experience had taught them that a camera could be anywhere.
Liam gestured toward a chair as he told her, “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.”
“You met with Rashad?”
“I did.” Her divorce from Max was finalized.
His eyes traced her face. “I’ll always be indebted to him for bringing you into my life, you know.”
Riley threw her head back and laughed. It was a velvety, rich sound and it came from deep down inside. When she was done, she tilted her head back down and shook it side to side. “Even though when I met you, I was married to him?”
“Even so.” Liam nodded happily. “It was an arranged marriage. You weren’t in love with him.”
“No. Nor him, I.” What they had formed was a deep affection for each other and a friendship. So, when she had fallen in love with another, he had graciously let her go.
With a hefty settlement.
That was when the rumors of her gold-digging started. She had tried to decline taking anything since she was the one asking to break their marriage contract, but Rashad had insisted that she should be compensated for putting up with his late hours, and his inability to fully commit to the marriage or her.
But the council had refused to green-light a royal marriage to a divorcée.
Liam leaned close to her with a wicked grin. “If your marriage to my brother didn’t dissuade me in my pursuit of you, nothing will my lady.”
Riley laughed again with another shake of her head. “Oh, no, that…that was….”
She had found Leo drunk in a Cordonian nightclub days after being thrown over by some woman on a cruise ship. His drunken heartbreak had matched her own that night.
One thing had led to another with Leo, and they had woken up in Monaco the next day, married.
They had realized it was a horrible mistake the moment they were both sober. Liam had made the matter disappear.
“That marriage barely counted,” she reminded him, “You had it annulled within hours.”
“Of course I did.” He would move heaven and earth for her. His face fell serious as the mention of her day-long marriage to Leo reminded them both of her marriage to Drake. She had only been in that bar that night because she’d had her own sorrows to drown, her divorce from Drake having been finalized earlier that day.
That one had hurt.
The only husband she had actually loved. But they both knew why that marriage had failed.
Liam reached discreetly for her hand. “Riley, I’m sorry.”
“Stop. It wasn’t your fault. I’ve told you a million times.”
Liam had married Madeleine and not wanting to be someone’s mistress, Riley had forced herself to move on, but her feelings for Drake had never been fake or secondary to her feelings for Liam. She had counted herself lucky to have found love again. But Drake’s insecurities and jealousy eventually soured the relationship.
“I feel like I didn’t hide my feelings for you well enough.”
“It shouldn’t have mattered. I was never anything but faithful to him. He should have trusted me.”
Her marriage to Drake should have quashed the rumors that she was a gold digger, but everyone had assumed she was using him to stay close to Liam.
Unfortunately, Drake himself had chosen to believe that. And though she hadn’t cared about money, he had constantly compared himself to both Rashad and Liam and found himself lacking.
It hadn’t helped that Liam had made her a duchess and given her Valtoria right after the divorce from Drake. He had done it to give her a place of her own to go to. She hadn’t wanted to run back to the palace and give any weight to the rumors that she and the king were still romantically entwined.
Giving her a duchy, however, had ramped the rumors up to a fever pitch and convinced Drake that he had been right all along.
“How is Max doing?” Liam asked, mostly to change the subject.
The mention of her best friend put the smile back on her face. “Oh, he’s great! He’s on a ski weekend in Aspen with Carson.”
Riley’s marriage to Max had been undertaken to satisfy some weird codicil in his father’s will that he be married to inherit.
Last month, his father’s estate had finally been settled. Max had taken possession of the money left to him along with a lavish townhouse in Dunwich.
The day after the estate had been finalized, they had initiated divorce proceedings.
“I’m glad Max is happy. Can I ask a favor of you, Riley?”
“What is it?”
“Stop getting married to other people.”
A surprised laugh burbled out of her. “What?”
“You heard me. Give a guy a chance.”
“Liam! You’re married! You know how I feel about—"
“Yes, I do. I have something for you. Stay right here!” Liam looked like a kid on Christmas morning as he stepped to the door of the box and murmured something to his head of security. The guard handed him a large manilla envelope and Liam quickly returned to his seat and with the closest thing to a gloat Riley had ever seen on his face, thrust it into her hands.
“What’s this?” She looked curiously from him to the envelope.
“Open it!” He encouraged.
“Okay…” she laughed as she flipped the top open and then pulled the document out. Her eyes widened with a gasp when she realized what she was holding in her hands. “Liam! Is this real?”
“Yes, my love, it’s real. You’re the first person, outside the lawyers, of course, to know about the dissolution of the marriage of the king and queen.”
She glanced back and forth from him to the divorce decree in her hands, unsure what it meant for them. “How is this possible? The council—”
“The council answers to me. Not the other way around.” Liam’s jaw clenched. He had been young and uncrowned when he and Riley had first met. Still under his father’s thumb and more easily influenced by the rules, protocols, and traditions. He had grown over the years into a true king. He had learned how to rule, and his father was now nothing more than a memory. He would no longer be bound by arbitrary and pointless regulations. He could rule Cordonia and still be happy.
His expression softened as his eyes roamed her face. He angled his body toward her, completely oblivious to whatever was going on out on the polo field. Taking her hands in his, he asked, “You know what this means, right?”
“What?” She held her breath. Afraid to hope for what she was hoping for.
“It means we’re finally single at the same time. And this time, I will not be swayed from your side. Not ever again. Come here.” He stood and helped her out of her seat, pulling her across the room to a corner not visible from the outside. “I wanted to do this somewhere romantic. Somewhere meaningful, but I can’t wait.”
“What are you doing, Liam?”
“What I should have done four years ago.” He dropped down to one knee and held a ring up to her. “Lady Riley Brooks, queen of my heart, I have yearned to say these four words for a very, very long time……..will you marry me?”
“Yes!” She didn’t even have to pause to think about it. “Yes! A million times yes!”
He slid the ring on her finger and then jumped to his feet. “Finally!” He cried as he swept her into his arms and spun her around.
She was single again. But not for long.
#liam rys#riley brooks#the royal romance#trr#the royal romance fanfic#angelasscribbles#choices fic writers creations#cfwc fics of the week#trr fanfic#Youtube
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Now that's rich! Ghislaine Maxwell, with 400 complaints over her conditions in prison and has been branded 'Prison Karen', accused the guard of sexual abuse!
Apparently she was abusive to Diana as well, so I have zero pity for this harpy. Hope she gets the karma she deserves. She can dish it out, but obviously can't take it.
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tammied king: glance, stillness, wardrobe, favorite, alternate
Tammy 'I can't hear you over this demon stealing Reid's soul, sir' King:
glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?
The first things you'll notice about her is her bright emerald green eyes and striking, unnaturally red hair. She wears it well enough though that it looks natural enough and if she said it was it wouldn't be hard to believe her.
stillness: How does your OC act while still? Are they fidgety? Do they have any common gestures or tics? Does their clothing affect how they hold themselves while at rest?
Tammy has a tendency to stand fully still and unmoving, particularly when encountering people who are of higher standing than her. Sometimes if she's nervous she'll pull at her sleeves and brush down her jacket, maybe even readjust her tie as if it were restricting her breathing.
wardrobe: How big is your character's wardrobe? Do they wear things threadbare, or can they afford new clothes often? Are they any good at mending and repairing their own clothing?
She kept almost nothing from before her embrace, so her wardrobe is rather small and uniform. Besides her suits, she has a few nice gowns for formal events and some more business-casual to casual stuff for training or when she needs to blend in with the kine better. She doesn't purchase new clothing often, a trait she carried over from pre-embrace. She knows the basics of sewing but anything too roughed up she has to get tailored. Her special predicament has made it so she knows fairly well how to get blood out of clothing, however.
favorite: Does your OC have a favorite article of clothing or accessory? What is it? What's the meaning behind it? Do they wear it all the time or do they wear it sparingly to keep it safe?
Tammy has a favorite of both. Her navy blue suit is one of her less formal ones, but it was a gift from a woman who became a good friend and supporting figure in her early years as a kindred. She doesn't wear it often, especially with how dangerous things have been in Portland as of late. She also has a particular tie clip, in the shape of the Ventrue scepter that she obtained from a very special person as a gift when she learned her feeding preference. That she keeps safe, only wearing it on very special occasions. She treasures it greatly, and is careful to take care of it.
alternate: What would your OC's alternate universe look be? If they're a fantasy character, what's their modern look? If they're sci-fi, what's their fantasy look? What AU would you want to see your OC in, and how would they dress themself? Bonus: Prompt an AU!
Well, there's two possible AUs for Tammy. The first references her flaw (Rival Sires) and implies she would have been a Tremere in this alternate timeline. Her sire would have been Mary, the woman who currently hates Zacharias and has made multiple attempts on Tammy's unlife. As she would have been a Tremere, she likely would simply wear the robes of the chantry she ended up belonging to. Her Thaumaturgy path? Botanical Mastery. Is anyone surprised?
The other, more fitting alternate is Toreador. Rather than being embraced by Zacharias, she is embraced by Caroline Maxwell, one of Reno's harpies and the owner of a modeling company. Scouted for her talent with photography, Tammy would have gotten to finish her studies and then given the immediate job offer to work for Caroline, which would lead to her eventual ghouling and embrace. She does still go to Portland in this timeline, to work with an associate of Caroline's... who just so happens to be a certain Toreador primogen fashion designer.
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The werewolf form Tashaki uses he has his opinion on how the form should be used he knows it is to be used only to defeat evil and protect the innocent as a matter of fact he’s on his way to fight the Shissar after they kidnapped his best friend that he promised to protect a young dragon and harpy hybrid named Maxwell.
Will Tashaki rescue Maxwell find out next time on the wolf’s journey
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Some more harpy baby doodles from my Twitter! (head over there if you want ALL the lore)
Baby’s name is Wren.
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I wanted to draw this for a long while!
Wolfgang and @momosweetpeach‘s Harpy Max with injured wings toughing up to the big stud.
#Don't starve#dont starve#ds wolfgang#Wolfgang#ds maxwell#harpy maxwell#Maxwell#I wanted to make Maxwell tippytoe to look smaller than Wolfgang#my art
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@momosweetpeach I love,,, your harpy Maxwell AU so much,, they’re so cute.. T_T here’s some fan art aaaaa
#maxwil#harpy maxwell#don’t starve au#don’t starve#dont starve wilson#don’t starve maxwell#my art#i cry everytime i saw how they interact#i love them so much
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@momosweetpeach A scribble in my sea of sketches from my art dump. I guess I forgot to post this. No real context to this. Just a stroll. I had to draw your version of Maxwell with the boy. I love what you are doing with the two ❤️ Just lovely.
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Small WIP (yes, my sketches can get this detailed) of a Harpy!Maxwell, I really love how he looks dbdbd
Original Harpy!Maxwell belongs to @momosweetpeach qwq
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Quick pic for @momosweetpeach
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I really love this au. Its amazing creator is @momosweetpeach
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May or may not finish this sketch. harpy Maxwell belongs to @momosweetpeach !
And I really love drawing him ;w; I’m probably going to draw more of him cuz it bring my heart joy
#my art#silly doodles#harpy maxwell#momosweetpeach#dont starve together#maxwell dont starve#your official gingerartist
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A gift for @momosweetpeach I just couldnt, plus I needed to prectice animating oof ((i had to repost sorry))
#dont starve#don't starve#maxwell#maxwell carter#harpy maxwell#wilson#wilson p. higgsbury#wilson percival higgsbury#willow#willow is a third wheel#maxwil#maxwell x wilson#repost#kill me
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Belated Birthday Gift!
For the stinkiest peach ever @momosweetpeach, this was supposed to be a birthday present but time had gotten away from me! But I hope you like it anyways!
Rated: T (sorry no smutt this time around. Just took rotting fluff)
Harpy!Max AU
Their relationship is already established in this one.
Also not beta’d so sorry for errors.
Spring was probably Wilsons favorite season. Sure it was a bit wet, but there was something wonderful about being able to stroll around and not have to worry about food or dying from the harsh elements of the other seasons.
Not that spring didn’t come without it’s own challenges, but they were minute compared to the blistering heat of summer and the terrible cold of winter.
Although Wilson was probably alone in this feeling.
Maxwell hated spring. His perpetual scowl was even more severe come the wet and rainy season, and while Wilson understood his plight, he also found it really funny.
Because it wasn’t exactly the season that Maxwell hated; it was all of the rain. The poor bird-man didn’t do well when he was wet. His feathers came with a certain degree of waterproofing, but he was no duck. Water collected in his soft downish feathers eventually and clung to his too-thin body, making him cold and weighing him down enough to where flying was difficult.
Today, thankfully, was one of the rare dry days of spring and both men were taking full advantage. Wilson busied himself with harvesting the bountiful resources that littered the constant while Maxwell replenished their food stores with the small animals he managed to catch.
Wilsons pack was only half full despite the day coming to its end, and that was okay. They had plenty of resources at the moment to sustain them, so it was no emergency rush to gather, so Wilson was taking his time. The soft cool breezes tickled his hair and lifted his spirits, and he simply couldn’t pass up a little time to relax.
All around him he could hear Maxwell terrorizing the local fauna and it made Wilson smile. Maxwell rarely had fun, but it seemed like he was enjoying himself.
Wilson called to him, knowing full well that the bird-man would be able to hear him.
“Hey Maxy! Find anything good?”
A harsh fluttering came to him ears a few moments later as Maxwell took a perch on a nearby boulder. Weirdo loved being up higher than Wilson even if it was only by a few feet.
“Hmm a few things. Frogs mostly,” despite his obvious good mood, Maxwell still spoke as if everything was making his life unnecessarily difficult. Everything was either a sigh or a grumble.
“Well it’s better than living off of old corn,” Wilson supplied. Last winter they had a metric fuckton of the stuff and Wilson was ready to never look at corn ever again.
“You can say that again,” Maxwell said with a sneer. “Next winter we are stocking up on more preservable things, yes?”
The lanky man hopped down from his perch and folded in his wings as he took in stride along Wilson. Surprised, but genuinely happy, Wilson took up step right beside him and case him a warm smile.
“Definitely. I think I’ve figured out how to pickle things properly. By the end of spring I think I’ll finally be able to get us some pickled eggplant. How does that sound?”
Maxwell humphed, but his back feathers puffed up in anticipation.
“Anything is better than corn.”
At that Wilson laughed. He had no idea why Maxwell could never voice his opinions in a positive manner. It was an odd tick that used to bother Wilson, but now he found it endearing how obnoxiously stubborn the other man was. It wasn’t that hard to just say, ‘Yeah I like that idea’ and move on with the conversation. Everything had to be a negative or a play on words. You had to look into everything the man said. It should have been taxing, but it really wasn’t.
Maxwell was easier to read than most people realized.
On impulse, Wilson ran his fingers over the soft feathers on Maxwells upper arms. Back in the day this would have earned him a wingslap to the face, but now Maxwell didn’t seem to mind. His fingers came away with a couple feathers, and he held them close to his face to examine them.
“You’re moulting again?” Wilson asked as he ran his fingertip over the soft edges.
“Moulting still,” Maxwell corrected. “It comes and goes until it’s all gone come summer. It doesn’t all just fall off in one fell swoop, you know.”
It was a funny image to picture. Just sudden poof, naked Maxwell. Bald and furious.
“What’s so funny, Higgsbury?”
“Nothing, nothing,” he assured through a few chuckles. Maxwell didn’t seem convinced, but he let it drop.
They walked in comfortable silence for a while, just enjoying the company. They basically lived together but it was actually very rare to spend this much time together like this. Wilson had his farms and his science projects to attend to, and Maxwell was a very lonesome fellow and often preferred to keep to himself.
Maxwell would go out and hunt for food or perch up high to keep an eye on Wilson while he worked their modest crop field.
They were usually within earshot of each other, but always doing their own thing, so this was nice.
“You need to shave,” Maxwell said rudely ruining the silence.
Wilson snorted and took Maxwells impressive clawed hand into his and played with the talons.
“It still gets cold at night Maxwell. Unlike you I don’t come with a layer of insulation, and since you refuse to sleep with me I have to make due.”
Maxwell eyed him with barely masked irritation.
“You know I hate the tent, Higgsbury. Damn thing is worse than a cage.”
“Thats a vast overreaction, and you know it. Besides you know if I sleep outside I’ll probably die of exposure so it seems we are at an impasse.”
It was an old argument, so Wilson just gave his automatic response. He was more interested in Maxwells impressive claws. He always wondered what exactly they were made of. Probability pointed to them being made of keratin just like all other forms of claws and nails, but Maxwells were just so thick it was easy to speculate if they were made of something else. Perfectly curved and black as charcoal, they were nearly as impressive as the ones of Maxwells feet.
Now those were a sight. Using his weight and impact to crush small prey, Wilson has watched Maxwell crush and shred through small animals like they were nothing on more than one occasion.
Once, during a particularly desperate time right after a harsh winter, Wilson helped Maxwell take down a Beefalo. They had been starving. The cold kept rabbits and other foodstuffs at bay for far too long into fall, and once Wilsons ribs started to show Maxwell had had enough. It had been his idea, and while Wilson was adverted to putting his lover in danger he went along with it because he was literally starving.
He’d never seen Maxwell act so vicious. Shrieking and clawing at the beast back while Wilson tried his best to spear something vital, it was a hard fought victory.
As they ate Wilson admitted that the display of violence was probably the most attractive thing he had ever witnessed.
Maxwell had blushed and gave a rare smile full of pride.
“Where did you go, Higgsbury?”
Maxwells voice snapped him out of the fond memory and the steamy night that had followed.
“Huh?” he looked up, finding a soft look in Maxwells eyes.
“Are my claws that interesting?” He teased, taking his hand back and hooking said claws in Wilsons messy hair. He gave an attempt to comb it, careful to not let the sharp tips prick him.
“Heh, all of you is interesting, Maxwell. You know I enjoy studying you.”
Maxwell hummed, gently picking a leaf out of Wilsons sideburn.
“Yes I’m very well aware. You’ve been poking and prodding me since we started spending more time together. I still don’t understand your fascination.”
Wilson laughed, the soft picking becoming ticklish and he pushed away those tactile claws.
“Have you considered the possibility that you, Maxwell, are in fact very interesting?” Wilson teased and pushed their shoulders in close so that he could feel the warmth of the other man through his feathers. They had stopped walking at some point.
Maxwell scoffed but this close he couldn’t hide the soft color that came to his cheeks.
“You only find me interesting because there is nothing better around. Remember that albino beefalo? I didn’t see you for months.”
Wilsons eyes misted.
“It…was so cute Maxwell. Could you blame me?….Poor Snowball…”
Maxwell scoffed again, oblivious to the other mans distress and started walking again toward the treeline back toward camp.
“It was a sticking beast. Get a hold of yourself Higgsbury,” Maxwell called back, stretching his wings up and back in an attempt to look bigger.
Maxwell always insisted that the gesture was simply to stretch but Wilson knew better. Maxwell always took every opportunity to show off in Wilson presence, and Wilson always took full advantage.
It was always so nice to see the powerful flight muscles that rippled just below the feathers of Maxwells back.
As they came back into their camp, Wilson was still distraught over the murder of his poor beloved beefalo. Damn hounds got to it. White was a very stand out color.
Go figure.
But he snapped out of it when he head an indignant squawk from up ahead.
“You little bastards!”
“Maxwell?” he called, concerned and broke out into a jog.
As he broke the treeline he gasped at the state of the place. Littered about the camp was the remains of his tent, the science machine lay broken into dozens of pieces, and a few of the chests had been ripped open and their contents scattered about.
Gripping his hair with both hands, Wilson willed himself not to cry as his poor creations lay broken and useless.
Pigmen normally weren’t a problem to he and Maxwell in the slightest, but a wandering few had decided that their camp was a good raiding ground. By the sounds of the terribly squealing in the woods ahead, they were already regretting it.
The urge to help was high, Maxwell wasn’t invincible after all, but the devastation of seeing all of this seasons hard work destroyed was affecting Wilson more than usual.
Even as Maxwell came out of the woods, flushed and furious, Wilson was still staring at the carnage. Ugh this would take all season to fix! And they were finally doing so well too!
“I slaughtered two, but the third got away. Hopefully he’ll tell his friends,” Maxwell said proudly, still baring his sharp teeth in his irritation.
It ebbed a bit, though, when Wilson didn’t answer.
“Higgsbury?” Maxwell approached, eyeing his lover as if he were weary of an outburst. Ridiculous seeing as Wilson would never take his aggression or feelings out on his lover.
“They…God they broke everything! Those…those…bumbling assholes!” Wilson growled and kicked a shattered piece of wood. It went satisfyingly far.
“And it’s almost night! Ugh where am I gonna sleep! I’m sure the furs are all filthy from their feet too,” Wilson all but whined as he gestured to the skeletal remains of his poor tent, and to the rumpled furs that once lined the inside.
Maxwell hummed, his ire dying down completely in the presence of his mates distress.
“We’ll fix the tent tomorrow,” he started as he approached the tattered tent and retrieved the blankets and furs. “These are relatively undamaged,” he called to Wilson, and he sighed in relief at that.
“Well…guess I’m outside with you tonight huh? I’ll….start cleaning up I guess.”
Wilson was mad, oh so mad! But there was nothing to be done now. Maybe they needed to invest in some walls in the future. He knew that Maxwell would love having high walls to sit on, and maybe a complicated gate would deter pigs until the stupid animals got the hint that the camp with the temperamental harpy was not to be messed with.
Regardless it took the rest of the evening to even get the camp somewhat back into shape and take stock of everything that needed to be replaced. It wasn’t as much as he initially realized, but it was still enough to set them back a few weeks. Thankfully the lock that Wilson had made to go around their fridge was too complicated for the pigmen. Their food was thankfully still intact. (And replenished even further by the poor pigs that Maxwell had ripped to pieces for their blunder.)
As the sun began to set, Wilson got to work making a good fire in case the night became chilly. Judging by the temperature now, it was safe to say that it was going to get quite cold. Wilson contemplated getting out some of his winter gear for the night but Maxwell assured him that there would be no need.
“Here. It’s not your precious tent but it will do for the night, yes?” Maxwell said as he gestured to what had been keeping him busy while Wilson tidied up.
Wilson hadn't actually noticed what the bird-man had been up to, but as he looked up it became immediately obvious what he was looking at.
He let out a little breathless laugh, oddly touched as he approached the obvious nest-shaped blankets stacked all cozy under a tree. Close enough to the fire for warmth, but also sheltered in case it started to rain in the night.
“For me?” Wilson asked and Maxwell nodded. Of course it was for him, but he still loved the confirmation regardless.
“No need to look so elated…its just a nest…” Maxwell mumbled, obviously not sure how to take Wilsons delight.
Wilson didn’t care, though, and took the gesture for what it was. Maxwell was taking care of him in the best way he knew how, and that was all that mattered. He took off his boots and took a seat in the surprisingly spacious nest and beamed up at the bird-man.
“Thank you. I love it,” he exclaimed and watched as the feathers on Maxwells shoulders gently fluffed.
“I’m….glad,” Maxwell cleared his throat and shifted from foot to foot.
“Are you gonna join me?” Wilson asked after a moment. “You made this plenty big for two.”
It must have been something that the older man was waiting for because he wasted no time hopping into the nest right alongside Wilson. His enthusiasm made Wilson laugh, and after a moment or two of shuffling Wilson was comfortably laying down with his head resting lightly on Maxwells thigh. In that moment the bony man was suddenly the best pillow in the constant.
“If I hadnt known better….I’d think that you planned this,” Wilson teased, his earlier bad mood completely gone as their warmth mingled together.
Beside him Maxwell snorted.
“Of course not…though I cannot deny the appeal of you occupying a nest of my own creation. Deeply satisfying.”
Curious, Wilson turned his head to look at Maxwell. The other man was looking at him with an expression that did indeed look satisfied. It made Wilson smile.
“Well I’m happy you made it for me…You do alot for me and I don’t know if I even express how truly thankful it makes me.”
Maxwell shifted to free his hand so that he could go back to picking at Wilsons hair as he spoke.
“You say it plenty…I’d do it even if you weren’t thankful, Higgsbury.”
Wilson laughed, leaning into the touch.
“I bet you would complain a hell of alot more, though.”
Maxwell smirked, the nighttime reflection of his eyes catching the firelight and making them glint.
“Yes. Yes I would. Now go to sleep. We’ll set about fixing everything in the morning when it’s cool enough to work. I’ll even help you,” Maxwell added as if it were an afterthought, making Wilson snort.
“Ah the Great and Powerful Maxwell has offered my help. I’m forever in your thanks.”
Whether he had actually caught onto the sarcasm or not was a mystery because Maxwell neither looked affronted or amused.
Instead he replied with a calm, “You’re welcome,” and got comfortable as he continued to muss the scientists hair. It was easy to fall asleep like that, and for once he didn’t mind sleeping out under the stars. Maybe he should invest in some kind of…open air tent? Something like that. He could really get used to sharing a nest with Maxwell every night, and he was pretty sure that Maxwell would feel the same if he could nail the design.
He already had a few ideas in his head as the gently petting put him straight to sleep.
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Something I'll probably never finish, because I realised I cannot draw feathers :')
Harpy Maxwell belongs to @momosweetpeach.
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Sometimes you just wanna draw some baby harpies. I dont like kid aus normally but I like monster babies.
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