#stony kid fic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiding-writing · 3 months

Note

hey!!! i have a request for a fluff fic. it's based off of the episode "double babysitter" from bluey (you dont have to watch it but u can for inspo!) where hotch/jj accidentally invites both you and spencer to babysit their kid(s) and you and spencer bond over babysitting. i just love domestic!spencer. preferably fem or gn reader, but everything else is up to you :)

DOUBLE BOOKED [ONESHOT]

/ˈdʌbəɫ bʊkt/

Hotch was finally getting back into the dating scene after some convincing from you and Garcia, that meant he needed a babysitter for Jack. Hotch had asked you himself, whilst Garcia, under the impression that Hotch hadn’t thought that far ahead, asked Spencer. Looks like Jack had two sitters for the evening.

WARNINGS: n/a

spencer reid x gn!reader || fluff || 2.7k || masterlist!!

a/n: so i didn't have the time to watch the episode beforehand (sorry) so i kinda just went with the flow for this one, hope you enjoy :)

Hotch was finally taking a break, and to go on a date no less.

It took you and Garcia almost three days of constant hounding before he agreed, and even after he did he kept bringing up excuses as to why he wouldn’t be able to make it.

He had files to finish, he had meetings to attend, he didn’t have a babysitter for Jack, they might be called into a case.

Anything that could possibly be used as a way to get out of going to this dinner was spewed out of Hotch’s mouth at some point or other, but it didn’t have any hold against Garcia’s persistence for him getting back out in the dating game and your persistence for him to get out of the office for an evening.

You’d recruited almost everyone in the office to help clear absolutely everything on Hotch’s schedule to ensure that his date would proceed unhindered.

Your job was one of the most hands-on.

“Hey little man,” You give Jack a smile as he opens the door to the Hotchner residence at your knocking, a smile that he enthusiastically returns with a small wave.

“Jack, what’ve I told you about opening the door to strangers?” Hotch round the corner almost immediately as the door clicks open.

“But-“

“Wow.” You interrupt Jack’s explanation with a wide-eyed expression at Hotch’s appearance.“Are you going to a date or a funeral?”

He forgets about scolding Jack for a second. “I look perfectly fine,” He furrows his eyebrows slightly.

“You look like someone’s just died,” You press your lips together into a line as you scoot Jack back into the hallway, closing the door behind you as you follow in after him. “I mean who on earth wears a full black suit to a first date?”

His face only proved to furrow further at your words, leaving you to sigh exasperatedly.

“At least lose the tie,”

“Your attitude is very out of line Agent,” He does as you ask anyway, loosening his tie and pulling it over his head before taking a glance at himself in the hallway mirror.

“We’re off the clock Sir,” You return his snark fervently. “Undo the collar of your shirt, you look ten years older than you actually are with it buttoned up like that,”

“You are very capable of making suggestions about my clothes without insulting me in the process,” Hotch undoes his collar with a sigh. As much as he likes to be dismissive, you were right in your suggestion that the tie and collar made him look too formal.

This was supposed to be a fun evening, not a boring business meeting.

“You’re nervous, I get it, but you’ll be fine,” You bend down to take Jack in your arms as he tugs on your sleeve. “Your dad looks much better now doesn’t he Jack?”

The boy nods enthusiastically with a thumbs up, and it forces a small smile to break through Hotch’s stony façade. “Using my son against me isn’t fair either,”

“Hush, you’ve got to get going before your late and all of this effort is for naught,” You open the front door again with Jack still resting on your hip, practically pushing Hotch out of the door of his own house.

“I don’t have to be there for another thirty-five minutes-”

“Buy her some flowers on your way there,” You continue to guide him to turn away from you towards his car, giving his back a small push in its direction. “Wish your dad good luck little man,”

“Good luck daddy! Have lots of fun!” Jack waves enthusiastically from your arms, smiling widely as Hotch turns around to face the two of you once more with an exasperated sigh.

“Thanks buddy, i’ll be home soon,” Despite his mild annoyance at your pushing, he can’t help but smile at Jack’s positiveness. “Behave okay?”

Jack gives a determined nod and a double thumbs up. “I love you daddy,”

“I love you too bud, see you later,”

You shoot him a “Good luck!” as he climbs in his car, one that he acknowledges with a dismissive wave of his hand before he drives off, leaving you and Jack with no company but each other.

“Can we have pizza for dinner?” You laugh at Jack’s question as you watch Hotch’s car pull out of the driveway, turning your attention to the boy in your arms.

“We can definitely have pizza for dinner,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

It’s less than five minutes before there’s a knock on the door, and you prepare yourself to give Hotch a half-insulting pep-talk about the fact that his date is going to be fine and there was no way he should cancel it last minute because he got cold feet on the way there.

“Hotch come on-” You’ve already begun by the time you open the front door, and your train of thought is immediately de-railed at the sight of Spencer Reid at the door. “Oh- Spencer- I- What are you doing here?”

He looked just as surprised to see you.

“I- Uh- Garcia said that Hotch needed a babysitter for 7?” Spencer flashes his watch in your direction and lo and behold it’s seven pm on the dot.

“Ah,” You can't help but laugh at the mix-up, shaking your head. "A classic mix-up, feels like one of those cheesy movies don’t you think?"

“She asked you too?” Spencer gives you a sheepish smile, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

“No,” You shake your head softly with a small laugh. “Hotch did, looks like Penny got a little in over her head with the organising,”

“Yeah,” Spencer pulls his lips into a line, shifting his balance on the balls of his feet. “I uh- I guess i’ll be going then,”

“No no don’t be silly,” You shrug off Spencer’s awkwardness with a smile, stepping aside to let him in, "The more the merrier. Come in, me and Jack have just ordered pizza,"

As if on cue, Jack comes bounding out of the living room, his eyes lighting up when he sees Spencer, "Spencer! Are you staying too?"

Spencer crouches down to Jack's level, giving him a friendly pat on the head with a smile, "It looks like it, Jack. You ready for a fun night with us?" He always was good with kids.

Jack nods eagerly, already pulling Spencer by the hand towards the living room, chattering away about the new toy he got. You watch them disappear down the hall, a smile on your face. It was going to be an interesting night, to say the least.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Interesting was right.

Pizza was always a good go to if you didn’t want to cook, but one thing about looking after a six year old is they can forget that hand food can be messy.

“Jack careful-” Spencer extends his hand over Jack’s lap to try and catch the sliding cheese from his pizza before it hits his lap. He’s half successful, but it still ends up leaving a red blotch on Jack’s spiderman pyjamas nonetheless.

“Oh no!” Jack looks down at his lap wide-eyed, half a slice of pizza still held in his hands.

You laugh shortly at the sight, “Maybe we should get you a plate little man,”

Spencer follows you into the kitchen to rinse his hands and search Hotch’s kitchen for something to wipe Jack’s pyjamas with as you arm yourself up with three plates rather than having you all eat straight from the box.

After the pizza incident, you all move to the couch, settling down with a bowl of popcorn and picking a movie that Jack would enjoy. Spencer ends up narrating half the movie, filling in the scientific facts behind the animated characters' adventures, while you and Jack listen, interrupted occasionally by Jack wanting further clarification on the things Spencer explains.

It was probably the most you’d ever heard him talk in one sitting, enthusiastically over-explaining everything Jack asks about with a small glint in his eyes that makes you forget that you’re just playing house.

By the time the movie ends, Jack is almost asleep, nestled in the crook of Spencer's arm with half-lidded eyes and the occasional yawn. You share a soft smile with Spencer at Jack’s expression, both of you appreciating the quiet moment now that his seemingly endless supply of energy has finally dwindled.

You help Spencer carry Jack to his bedroom, tucking him in and whispering soft “goodnight,”s. Back in the living room, the two of you clean up the remnants of your movie night, the atmosphere comfortable and warm.

“So, what should we do now then?” You glance at the clock as you fold up the empty cardboard pizza box, it was just past 10PM now, seemed like Hotch was having a good time considering he hadn’t even messaged either of you to indicate when he was coming home.

“I uh- I’m not actually sure-” Spencer’s awkwardness seems to return now that he doesn’t have Jack as a buffer for his inherent lack of social grace, and he keeps his eyes firmly locked on the coffee table as he wipes it down.

“Didn’t a new episode of Doctor Who air tonight?”

Spencer finally turns his gaze up to you at the mention of the show. He didn’t know you kept up with Doctor Who. “Uh yeah- it’s on in about..” He turns his eyes down to his watch momentarily. “Seven minutes?”

“Well there we go then,” You round the corner into the kitchen with your voice slightly raised so that he can still hear you. “We can watch the new episode of Doctor Who and by the time it’s finished hopefully Hotch should be back so we can actually go home and sleep for our 7AM start tomorrow,”

A small smile breaks onto his face, both at your suggestion and at your very apparent distaste for the early start you had to endure tomorrow. “I didn’t know you watched Doctor Who,”

“I don’t really-” You shrug your shoulders slightly, a half-guilty expression on your face as you re-enter the living room. “I watched a few episodes after you kept mentioning it in the office,”

“Oh-” Spencer blinks at you in surprise at your confession, watching as you take a seat on the couch with your legs crossed underneath you. “Well uh- What did you think?”

“It’s pretty interesting,” Spencer practically lights up at your statement, taking a seat beside you with the TV remote in hand, making sure to leave a few inches of a gap between yourselves as he flicks through the channels. “I like the way they explained the time travel aspect,”

“Mhm,” Spencer nods enthusiastically at your statement, leaving the remote on the coffee table once he’s found the correct channel and half turning in your direction. “Actually, the way that the time travel is explained in Doctor is very accurate to how it would be in real life, with real scientific backing that several astrophysicists have agreed on,”

This was going to be a long episode.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

A sharp clearing of somebody’s throat jolts you from the light sleep you’d found yourself in, and as you attempt to sit up straight you bash your head into something, hard.

“Ah-” Spencer clutches both hands to his jaw, cupped under his chin as he tries to massage away the pain that was suddenly shooting up the side of his face and waking him up in the process.

“Sleep well did you?” Hotch looked down at the two of you with a raised eyebrow, just barely concealing the amusement on his face as he watched the two of you untangle yourselves to regain some space between each other, looking like a pair of teenagers getting caught doing something they shouldn’t be.

“Hotch- Welcome home, how was your date?” You rub your eyes quickly as you try to deflect the situation.

“It was fine,” He turns his narrowed gaze from you to Spencer with all of the conviction of an overprotective father. “How was yours?”

Spencer almost chokes on his own saliva at the question, and it’s enough for the corners of Hotch’s mouth to turn up ever so slightly. “It wasn’t- We weren’t-”

Hotch holds up his hand as a silent instruction for Spencer to stop talking, and he shuts up immediately, lips pressed taut into a line. “I didn’t know I arranged two sitters,”

“Penny, you how overeager she is,” You give your (mostly valid) excuse with a guilty smile, brushing out the non-existent wrinkles in your jeans. “Spencer turned up like five minutes after you left and we’d already ordered food so it didn’t feel right to just send him off-”

Hotch's expression softens slightly, though the amusement in his eyes doesn't fade. "Well, I appreciate the effort. And it looks like Jack had a good time." He nods towards Jack's bedroom, where soft snores can be heard through the cracked door.

"Yeah, he's out like a light," you say, relieved that the evening went smoothly despite the unexpected turn of events.

Hotch glances between you and Spencer, his lips twitching as if he's fighting back a smile. "Well, I'll leave you two to it then. Thanks for looking after Jack." With that, he leaves the two of you in the living room to vacate to his kitchen, presumably to make himself a cup of coffee despite how late it was.

There's a moment of awkward silence before Spencer speaks up, his cheeks tinged with pink. "I should probably go. It's getting late."

You nod in agreement, though a part of you wishes he would stay a bit longer. "Yeah same here, probably for the best. Thanks for keeping me company tonight, Spencer. It was...unexpected, but nice."

Spencer offers you a small smile, his eyes warm. "Anytime. And hey uh, if you ever want to watch another episode of Doctor Who or... anything else, just let me know."

You return his smile, feeling a warmth spread through you at his offer. "I'll keep that in mind. Goodnight, Spencer."

"Goodnight" He mutters your name softly with a final nod, gathering his things and heading towards the door, leaving you alone to do the same as you call out a final “See you in the office,” in Hotch’s direction before leaving yourself to drive back to your apartment with the memory of the evening etched in your mind.

You can't help but think that despite the initial mix-up, the night turned out to be quite enjoyable, and if Spencer’s offer had anything to say, you might be engaging in more nights like this soon, without having to look after a kid in the process.

Score.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #mgg #asks 🫶

336 notes · View notes

hainethehero · 4 months

Text

Steve Rogers Trauma: A TED TALK

Why is it that any kind of commentary/analysis on Steve Roger's trauma has to be met with comparisons to Bucky or Tony's trauma? Or most of the fanfics I read completely gloss over Steve's trauma?

Some of y'all legit do not care or are blind to Steve Roger's trauma throughout the Captain America & Avengers films and it shows. And this isn't hate to any fanfic writers but rather an observation of most stucky and stony fanfics which seem to minimize Steve's character & trauma in favour of highlighting their fave's. And of course it's fine that people want to write about Bucky or Tony or even Nat's trauma, but MOST TIMES* I've read these fics and they all have an intentional disregard for Steve's traumas.

And this speaks to the wider discourse around Tony, Bucky & Steve- the three characters most written about in mcu fanfics.

Because why is it that anytime I bring up Steve's PTSD or his illnesses or the hell he would've gone through pre-serum, people always HAVE to add in their 2cents about, "well yeah & Bucky went through worse." Like.???? No, I'm not talking about him.

I absolutely love Bucky and he's one of my favourite characters in both the comics and the MCU but, respectfully, this ain't about him.

I'm talking about Steve and his life. The crap he would've had to deal with both in public and at home. Especially the horrors both he and Sarah would've gone through because of Joseph Rogers who was a terrible person and an alcoholic who beat up on his wife and sickly kid.

And even post-serum when he's completely healthy and living in the future now, I'm still seeing popular narratives about "Yeah he's alive now & hasn't gone through half of what Bucky's endured over the past 70yrs." OR "He's had it easy compared to Bucky who was being tortured by HYDRA."

Um, no one's saying Bucky's treatment under HYDRA was a good thing??? But we're talking about Steve here, not Bucky?

And how he was literally frozen in a state of purgatory & how traumatic it would feel to be ripped out of it and then basically thrown to the new world on your ass without any kind of therapy or help. Most people make it seem like Steve was in a Sleeping Beauty kind of sleep and then woke up completely fine. And I will admit the MCU has been the main culprit of that narrative because they deleted so many scenes that humanized Steve Rogers, that now the gen pop thinks:

he's perfectly fine

has zero trauma

should complain about nothing

hasn't had it hard like Bucky or Tony

is a lesser hero because of all of the above

I recently had a convo with a friend & we were talking abt the scene in Avengers 1 when they were all at each other's throats. And they said that Tony was right about Steve being a laboratory experiment & everything special about him came out of a bottle. And I'm like... yeah nah, that's the lazy ass writing that Whedon perpetuated that now makes Steve one of the most misunderstood heroes & people in the MCU. Because he was special before the serum because of his consideration of others. He was special because not only did he hate bullies, but he also went out of his way to protect those that couldn't protect themselves KNOWING what that confrontation might cost him as a chronically sick person. Tony needed a whole ass arc about literally witnessing & living first hand what his weapons were doing to innocents like Yinsen & his people, to change his ways. Steve didn't have, nor did he need any of that to make him special. (AND BEFORE THE TONY STANS COME FOR ME, I LOVE TONY, HE'S LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVES IN THE MARVEL COMICS & MCU) But this hatred for Steve is ridiculous.

And once again, it's the MCUs fault because they made Tony the ultimate hero of the Avengers at the expense of Steve Rogers' character. Him being able to prove he was "worthy" all along by lifting Thor's hammer was a cheap payoff in the end, much like the entirety of Endgame was. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

162 notes · View notes

spoilmesweetieforficssake · 8 months

Text

Pregnant Reader - Part 3

So after the final part of Not So Single Mom I realised I still had a few more parts planned for the pregnant reader fic so while we have a little writing momentum - here we are with part 3. Hope you guys enjoy!

Part One

Part Two

You press a hand to your stomach, smiling as you feel the movement beneath. Your little girl was a dancer, it felt like.

“Oooh, is she on the move again?” asks Janine, dropping down to sit next to you.

“And apparently determined to get somewhere,” you chuckle as you feel the baby shift. “You want to feel?”

She gasps. “Really?”

You shrug. “If you want to?”

“Yes!” she grins. “Definitely yes.” She holds out a hand, grinning as you take hold of it and settle it against your stomach. Janine squeals when she feels the baby move beneath her hand.

“You trying out to be the new fire alarm or somethin’?” asks Melissa as she enters the breakroom, a frown already on her face at the high pitched noise as she heads for the coffee machine.

“The baby’s moving,” grins Janine.

The red head’s eyes zero in on the spot where Janine’s hand rests against your stomach. “And that gives you an excuse to get handsy, does it?”

The younger woman shrinks back at Melissa’s words, her hand quickly retracted back to her own lap. “I should get going, I have things to get set up anyway.”

You watch the younger woman go. “’Lissa, I offered to let her feel. It’s not like she just decided to get hands on herself.”

“Good, or she’d find finger painting difficult soon.”

Rolling your eyes at the implied threat you can’t help but smile at her possessiveness. It’s nice to still feel wanted and protected even though you feel the size of a school bus. Your smile only grows as you watch her prepare not only her own coffee, but a mug for you, ensuring that yours comes from the special jar of decaffeinated she picked up for you.

Janine isn’t the only one to be excited at the prospect of the baby moving, quite a few of your colleagues all too eager to have the chance to feel the life moving inside you. To say Melissa does not share their enthusiasm is putting it lightly. You have to hand it to her though, after her initial snap at Janine, she’s been subtle by her standards. A curling of her fingers into a fist. A scowl. A glare.

One day, however, you hear it; she growls. You’re seeing your kids off at the end of the day and one of the mother’s hands has apparently wandered a little too far and lingered a little too long for the red head’s liking. You turn to see her standing at the top if the steps, arms crossed, stony expression on her face. Politely saying goodbye to your student’s mother, you make your way up the steps to stand in front of the red head. You reach for her hands, untucking them from her arms and placing them against your stomach.

“You can’t kill them all, you know.”

She frowns.

“I’ve seen the looks you’ve been throwing at people.”

Her eyes drop to where her hands rest against you and she shrugs. “I just don’t like people with their hands all over you.”

“’Lissa, there is precisely one person who gets to have their hands all over me and she’s standing right in front of me.”

“But-“

You shake your head. “They’re excited. That’s all. The baby is exciting for them too, especially now she’s started her gymnastics. It’ll be old news to them soon enough but let them be excited for a while. Let them be excited about your daughter.”

You sit back in your chair with a sigh. “Seriously, little one, you gotta give the tap dancing break.” Reaching for your phone, you quickly type out a message to Melissa, asking if she can swing by your classroom when she has a moment. Barely sixty seconds later you hear familiar footsteps rushing along the corridor. A few moments later the red head appears in your doorway, hands clinging to the frame to halt her momentum.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her worry for you and your daughter never far away.

“You didn’t have to come running,” you say as she enters your classroom, green eyes roving over your frame, head tilting questioningly to the side when she finds nothing amiss. “I said when you had a minute.”

She shrugs. “I always got a minute for you and the baby.”

At this, you smile. You smile because it’s true. It doesn’t matter how busy, how tired or what else happens in her life, she will make time. There are times you feel guilty, but somehow, she always manages to persuade you your guilt is unwarranted. “I need you to tell your daughter to quit throwing a tantrum on my bladder.”

When Melissa frowns you reach out your hands, taking hold of hers and slipping them under the loose jumper you wear. “I don’t know what voodoo magic you pull but just do what you do.”

Automatically, she moves her hands against your skin and after a few moments you smile in relief.

Tilting her head, she regards you curiously.

“She settles when it’s you,” you tell her.

“Really?”

You nod, covering her hands with your own. “It took me a while to figure out, but yeah. When it’s your hands she stills. It’s the same at night in bed too, especially when you speak to her. She knows you.”

Melissa tries to hide a sniffle, but the tears glistening in her eyes give her away.

“Turns out she’s just as fussy as her mama as to who has their hands on me.”

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa x reader #melissa schemmenti

256 notes · View notes

oneweirdbookaddict · 1 day

Text

Alright @undertheopensky and @violet27writes (hope you don’t mind the tag! Sorry!)

This one is for you guys 😂

Part two to this fic!

Can be read separately but will make more sense if you read that one first.

Summary:

Time and Four have Issues as the rest of the chain tries their best to get their resident skyloftian back.

6358 words!

Warnings for torture, violence, mentions of death.

~~~~

Sky takes a slow breath, his return to consciousness rather unpleasant.

His head aches, a dull thrum deep inside his skull.

Weak coughs rattle in his chest, and he a metallic, coppery taste lingers in his mouth.

He’s pretty sure he’s laying on the ground, but it seems… rocky. Tilting and moving and rolling underneath him… as if he’s on a boat.

His head pounds.

His tongue is bleeding… had he bitten it?

He… right… he’d been captured… He’d heard Four screaming his name… Four! He’d head Four screaming- he tries to sit up and immediately collapses back down, floor swaying underneath him.

“Four?” He groans, moving his head off the rough, hot wood. “Four? Smithy? Time?”

He wants to look around, to see if they’re with him, to see if they’re ok, but he’s too weak.

He takes a slow breath.

“Four?” He pleads, jolting when metal clatters.

“You’re awake, good! Hate to think we’d killed you before we got to have our fun! Those other two didn’t last long.”

He manages to look up, finding one of the people who captured them.

Shakes his head, straining from the effort of looking up.

A laugh. Cold and harsh, no humor in it.

“The little one was weak. All bravado until we got him figured out. He wasn’t so brave when his organs were being removed!”

His blood boils at the thought of them hurting Four, face twisting into a glare.

“I’ll kill you.” He promises, forcing himself to sit up and look at the face properly. He’s going to remember this guy and kill him for laying a finger on his friends-

Another laugh.

“I wish you the best of luck.”

And he starts walking away.

“I’ll kill you!” He screams, unsure of where the sudden strength is coming from. But he’s grateful for it. “I’m going to kill you, you hear me?! You’ll pay for their blood with your own! I’m going to kill you!”

He has to pause, out of breath now. Slumps back again, tears burning in his eyes.

They can’t be gone… they… no.

No, they’re the strongest people he knows, Four and his unwavering bravery, unshakable Four. And Time, unwavering and confident… no.

He refuses to believe it- they’re trying to break him.

So he takes a slow breath, scrubs his face off, and lets the self pity wash away into fury.

~~~~

“How’s that cut on your stomach feeling?” He asks, undoing the bandages on Four’s bicep. Brushes his scarf out of the way, too.

“Sore,” Four admits in a volume just above a whisper. He doesn’t think the kid’s talked in full volume- or even half volume- since he woke up for good. “But not terrible.”

“That’s good, these are looking a lot better too.”

“Can we take the stitches out of my thigh?” The smith asks quietly, and he pauses.

Chews his lip- the answer is probably not, but he doesn’t want to just say that. So… “We’ll look at it in a minute.” He decides on, and Four nods.

Hyrule inspects the four slices on the smith’s calf, murmuring softly that they’re healing well.

Four doesn’t like those cuts. Not at all. All the deliberate cuts have four of them- the ones on his calf, on his arm, his bicep, and the four deep gashes on his thigh that he’s honestly still worried about.

He’s sure the four cuts and Four’s namesake isn’t just a coincidence. Something in particular happened with those ones.

“Can I ask-” he starts gently, but the kid interrupts.

“No.” Four says quietly, looking away.

“Four, buddy, we need to know-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

And they let it go.

A few minutes of silence as they clean, rebandage, note the progress and areas of concern- until Time walked into the room.

Four’s whole demeanor changes instantly, tensing up, face going stony.

Both he and Hyrule pause nervously, waiting for the explosion…

Time’s gaze flicks between the three of them, then slowly steps into the room.

“How-” Time’s voice cracks and the old man pauses to clear his throat. “How are you doing? Those… healing up ok?”

Four’s eyes are ice cold, not even sparing him a word.

Just ignores him, staring determinedly at the cuts over his bicep. He’s finished cleaning them, careful of the forming scabs over them.

“These are healing well.” He says again, if only to make Four feel… better.

It’s disheartening to see the kid so defeated.

Four just nods, expression unreadable.

“Let’s leave the bandages off tonight. Let it air out.” He suggests softly, and Four nods again.

Just looks… so worn down.

“Ok… Rulie?”

“Yep, looking good here. Cleaned and healing well.”

“Good, let’s look at the ones on your thigh.”

Four nods again and scoots his pants down, shifting the fabric of his underclothes up to reveal the deep cuts.

“How are those, any changes?”

A shake of the head.

He gently inspects the cuts, looking for signs of infection, scabbing, straining or pulling stitches…

“Looks good. Want to take these out?”

It’s a bit early, but… they could get away with it if Four wants. He’s desperate to get a smile out of the kid.

He only gets a shrug in response.

“You asked earlier.” He pushes a bit. “Do you want to take them out?”

A long second, then Four nods. “Yes.”

“Alrighty. Want me to help you, or you want to do it?”

Four holds up a trembling hand in response, answering that question.

“Well. That answers that, then.” He says lightly, accepting the small scissors that Hyrule hands him.

He doesn’t get a smile. Just a sad flick of the eyes in response.

~~~~

“There you are, think that’s good.” He says, tightening the bandages around Four’s thigh.

Four stands to adjust his clothing, then looks up at him.

“Thank you.” The teenager whispers, and he nods.

“Yeah. Anytime, Smithy. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do, alright?”

Four nods, drifting to the door.

“Four-” Time tries, but Four ignores him again.

He and Time watch Four slowly leave the room, shoulders hunched.

Time sighs slowly, sinking down into a chair.

“I see you’ve made progress with him.” He says, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know what else to do.” Time says flatly. “He won’t talk to me.”

“You can’t force him.” He shrugs, moving over to the desk. Time sighs from the other side of the room.

“Did you notice Four was limping?” He asks, genuinely curious if anyone else has noticed.

“What?” Time asks quickly. Apparently not.

“Yep. Had a limp. Right knee. Hiding it well, but it’s hurting him.”

“Is his knee injured or accommodating for…”

“His ribs? I don’t know. We need to leave tomorrow, we can’t risk another day. Take the five of us, search the place top to bottom, not leaving until he’s found…”

“If his ribs are hurting him from walking he might just be accommodating to that.”

“Yeah.” He offers offhandedly, not really paying attention anymore. His mind is on their plan, frowning over the map of the base they’d sketched out. What can they do better than last time?

Things had gone wrong quickly last time- the three of them hadn’t been together, they didn’t get all of them into the base, Legend had been discovered, and Four…

He tries not to think about how bad Four’s injuries were. The way they fought to keep him breathing, to keep him alive.

They weren’t expecting any of them to be that injured. Banged up, sure. Some serious injuries, if they were unlucky. That?

They hadn’t even brought a potion- glass was… noisy. That’s a mistake they won’t be repeating when they get Sky out.

He shakes himself out of the unpleasant thoughts, focusing on what he can control now. Their plan.

“We have to assume security is going to be increased… should we brute force it..? We don’t have the numbers. Stealth mission… Wild, Legend… Hyrule? Twi will insist on going, I’m going to insist on going… is five too many?” He mutters under his breath, letting his gaze drift around the room.

Time understands he’s more talking to himself than to him, and he appreciates the quiet.

“Four’s gonna be pissed when I tell him he’s not coming… but we can’t take him. Hmm…”

It’s late. He can worry about this tomorrow- he needs some sleep to clear his mind.

He sighs, setting the quill down and standing.

Time glances up at him, looking exhausted.

“Get some sleep, Sprite,” He says softly, dabbing his inky fingers on the parchment so he doesn’t stain anything. “You look exhausted.”

“You-” Time starts, but he cuts the man off.

“I’m just going to check on Four, and then I’ll be heading to bed myself in a minute.”

Time nods with a sigh, standing and blowing out the lanterns in the room with him.

“Goodnight, Captain.” Time says quietly, and he gives a small nod as they exit the room together.

“Goodnight, Time. Sleep well.”

~~~~

His stomach rumbles as he walks down the hall, reminding him suddenly that he’d completely forgotten dinner.

So he alters his destination to the lobby of the inn, finding both of his desired goals- a plate of sandwiches Wild had made, and the smith he’d been looking for.

And a bonus- the rancher, who blinks up at him in surprise.

Four’s… dozed off on Twi’s lap.

Twi makes a slashing motion across his throat, the meaning coming across clearly: you wake him, you die.

He nods his understanding, heading to the plate of sandwiches Wild had made for dinner hours ago and taking one.

Studies Four, a task made difficult by the fuzzy blanket engulfing him.

Slow, gentle rise and fall of his chest… lips slightly parted, small hands lightly gripping the fabric of Twi’s tunic, head resting just over the rancher’s heart. Shifting slowly every so often, giving a sleepy mumble every so often.

“He alright?” He asks, and Twi sighs softly.

Makes a weird shrugging gesture, one arm gently wrapping around the smithy.

“I… I don’t know, Wars. He’s a mess.”

He nods with a sigh.

Four has been a mess since he woke up for good.

Barely sleeping, barely eating, refusing to rest from his near fatal injuries, refusing to talk about what had happened unless he thought it could help Sky…

Talking to himself, zoned out all the time, getting his attention was difficult, getting him to do something he didn’t want to do was impossible. Rest his ribs and relax for an hour? Nope.

Sleep for the night? Not happening.

Eat something for dinner? Don’t even think about it.

If you pushed the kid at all? You were on his ‘I don’t like you’ list for a good day or two.

Unless you were Time, who seems to have a permanent place on that list.

The kid could barely stand to be in the same room as their leader- he sees this causing a lot of problems if this continues.

But for now the kid sleeps- somewhat restlessly, he admits, but still sleeping.

He scarfs down another sandwich, ignoring Twi’s raised eyebrow, thinking back to the last time he ate. Did he eat lunch? Yes, he must have, it was… it…

Well… ok, did he eat breakfast? Did he… sleep last night?

No wonder he’s so exhausted.

He blinks slowly, shaking his head at himself. He’s a mess. He stands with a yawn, eyes finding Twi.

“I need to get to sleep, you want any help with him or something? Getting him to bed?”

“Nah, I’ve got him. Thanks, Cap. Sleep tight.”

“You, too, Rancher.” He nods, heading down the hall, finding his room, flopping onto the bed and crashing almost immediately.

~~~~

“What’s with the urgency, Cap?” Twi asks as he walks in with Legend.

“Plan to get Sky back.” He answers, and all the heroes perk up.

Even Four focuses on him long enough to meet his eyes, then slowly returns to staring out the window.

Now that everyone’s in the room and he’s got all their attention, he starts explaining his plan.

“Ok. Plan is to go tonight- Wild, Hyrule, Me, Twi, and Legend. We’re going stealth rather than force, so let’s try to make this an in and out entry. Hopefully no combat.”

“I want to go.” Four says quietly.

He takes a slow breath, meeting the kid’s eyes.

“Not happening. Wild, you’re good at stealth and can offer us stealth potions. We’re going to need those, the ones that last as long as you can manage. We’re going to split and search, Wild and Twi on the bottom floor, Me and Hyrule will take the ground level-”

“Hyrule and I.” Someone corrects- Twi.

“Oh, can it.” He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “Legend, your job is to use all those fancy tools and tricks of yours to figure out if there’s any secret rooms or anything they could be hiding him in.”

“I want-”

He meets Four’s eyes and holds his gaze.

“Four, for the sake of your safety, no. You’re recovering, you’re exhausted, I understand you want to come with us, but your ribs are still busted, your wrist is weak, you’re in pain- fighting is going to be a challenge for you.”

“But the goal is to not be in a fight-” Four tries, and he smiles softly.

“That doesn’t guarantee there won’t be one, Smithy. You’re not coming with us. I’m sorry.”

For a second he thinks Four’s going to cry.

Then the smithy’s eyes dart away and the kid slumps in his seat.

A long moment of silence.

He addresses the group once again. “We’re leaving in six hours- nightfall. More security, but less general activity. Get what you need, eat a bite, whatever. Meet back here at nine chimes.”

Some nods, and they all disperse.

Both the smith and the rancher linger, Twi raising an eyebrow at him after glancing at Four.

Expecting an argument, he waits for the smithy to talk first- but the kid just slowly slides out of his seat and carefully makes his way out the door and down the hall with a sharp sniffle.

He makes a mental note to check on the kid in a minute.

Glances at Twi, waiting for the rancher to speak.

“He had a panic attack earlier.”

His heart sinks. “Four?”

“Yep. Kept saying… you know. What he’s been saying. Sky’s dead and there’s… no point in…”

Two trails off, and they stand in a horrible silence.

“Well.” He sighs slowly, “I was about to go talk to him anyway. Maybe…” he trails off.

“Yeah.” Twi says quietly.

Then- “Do you really think-”

“No.” He says firmly. He refuses to consider it. “Sky… no. He’s fine. They didn’t kill Four, they didn’t kill Time… I think he’s alive. They want information, and… Sky doesn’t have it. He’s gonna be in rough shape, but he’s going to be alright.”

They don’t mention the horrible minute Four wasn’t breathing.

Another long silence.

“Well…” he starts, mind going back to the smith.

He makes to leave, but Twi hesitantly takes his arm and stops him. “Wars… this is going to work, right?”

Taking a deep breath, he musters a smile. The confident, easy going one he was known for back in the day. “If everything goes to plan.”

Twi nods, unconvinced. “I don’t know what it’ll take to break that kid, but I don’t want to see it. This has to work.”

“It will,” he promises, though they both know it’s empty words.

~~~~

Four is a lump of blankets on the bed of his room when he gently pokes his head in after receiving a small ‘hm?’ When he’d knocked.

“Hey, buddy, you doing ok?” He asks softly, making his way to the bed.

The lump of blankets rustles, making room for him to sit.

He does so with a groan as his knees ache, stretching out and laying on the bed.

Four’s frozen for a moment, but slowly scoots closer.

“C’mere,” He says quietly, and Four shifts to slowly nestle into his side. He’s not a touchy person, but Four needs a hug. He can manage for a moment or two.

His arms gently wrap around the kid, rubbing his back with a yawn.

“You in pain?” He yawns, only getting another rustle from the lump of blankets.

Four clearly doesn’t want to talk, so he lets him be. Just rubs his back slowly, the kiddo slowly cuddling back, small but toned arms wrapping around him.

His eyes close for a moment, giving another yawn.

He’s never been very relaxed with physical contact, but he finds himself enjoying the relaxation.

Four somehow seems to realize this, or perhaps it’s merely a habit when Four slowly starts drawing small circles into his back.

Tracing little loops, eventually switching to what he assumes is letters and words, continuing even when his hand stops and he��s gone still, savoring every moment.

Eyes closed, until he’s drifting… drifting…

“Captain?” A voice says softly, and his eyes flutter blearily. Not wanting to be awake, he slowly sighs and curls into the blankets around him more.

“Wars, hey, time to start getting ready.” The same voice says gently, and he sighs again. Gives a mumble that even he’s not sure what he’s saying.

There’s a soft laugh, a hand touching his shoulder-

He snaps awake, shoving the hand off him, heart rate spiking panickedly in his chest.

“Hey… sorry, we’re getting ready to leave.” Twi offers quietly, and he nods slowly, trying to calm his breathing down.

Glances down at Four, ignoring Twi’s second apology. The smith is still sleeping, hair all in his face.

“Leaving… yeah… what time is it?” He says as he blinks away the grogginess, standing carefully.

“Almost nightfall. Eight and a half chimes. You should eat, we’ve still got a while.”

His eyes linger on the kid on the bed- despite Four’s insistence, he couldn’t convince himself that Four was of age.

“Wars, hey, you fell asleep, that’s all. We’re going to get Sky back. Are you alright?” Twi asks softly.

“I- yeah. Yeah, sorry.” He says, shaking his bleariness off. “Just… don’t remember falling asleep.”

It’s easier than explaining he fell asleep with Four cuddling him and the kid was at the opposite side of the bed when he woke up.

He looks back at the bed. Four’s… still asleep. Breathing slowly, lips slightly parted, face peaceful…

He shakes his hesitation off, following the rancher out of the room.

~~~~

Fifteen minutes.

He starts strapping his armor to his body.

Laces his boots.

Straps his sword and shield to his back.

One knife on both arms, one in his boot.

“Please let me come.” Four whispers, and he jumps.

Looks at the teenager, sitting up on the bed, looking miserable.

Hopeless.

He moves back to the bed, taking a seat next to the kid. Four’s eyes slowly find him.

“Do you trust me?” He asks softly instead of giving the response Four knows he’s going to get.

Soft grey eyes blink at him.

A small nod.

He reaches and gently takes Four’s hand.

“Four, buddy. I’m gonna get him back. I promise you. I’m not leaving without him. When I get back tonight Sky is going to be with me. I promise you that.”

Ten minutes.

“I’m worried about you, smithy. I think you’re pushing away what you went through to focus on Sky.”

Four looks away.

Swallows, blinking.

“I want to help you, buddy.” He practically whispers. “But I don’t know how. Do you trust me? For real?”

Four looks him in the eye again, nodding.

With much more confidence this time.

“I’m glad.” He says quietly, patting Four’s arm gently. “I trust you, too, you know. I’m not leaving you behind for anything you did. Or because I don’t trust you, or… or anything. I want you here because I’m worried sick about you. That’s all. So… can you do me a favor while I’m gone?”

Four nods slowly, blinking again.

“Eat something for me. Drink some water. Clean your wounds off, see how they’re doing, maybe even take a bath. Take some time to take care of yourself.”

Another nod.

He offers a smile, and almost gets one in return.

It’s the best he’s gotten since he got the smithy back.

“Thanks.” He says, patting the smith’s shoulder.

“Be safe.” Four whispers, and he nods now.

Offers a little smile, walking to the door.

“Safe is my middle name.”

He swears he hears the tiniest laugh before he closes the door, leaving Four behind.

~~~~

He’s sitting against the wall, pressing his forehead to the cold stone.

The guards open the cell door, carrying his food for the night, and he waits.

Waits for the one to get closer… grabs the neck of his uniform, scowling.

Shoves him roughly against the wall, using his forearm to cut off his oxygen.

“You’re going to tell me where my friends are,” he says calmly, despite the rage burning through him. “And maybe I’ll consider letting you live. Do we have a deal?”

He’s weaker than he’d like- woozy, not quite steady, hunger and pain making him less aware than he’d like.

But this is his chance- and by the goddess is he going to take it. His hand slowly finds the concealed weapons the guard has- a knife, a heavy but short club-type thing…

Takes the knife, tossing the other thing away.

“Good.” He releases some of the pressure on the guard’s neck. He feels no guilt as the man wheezes and coughs. This is the same one who bragged about torturing Four.

“I don’t know.” The man rasps shakily. “They’re just- gone. We tortured the little one- we were attacked afterwards. It was- it was chaos.”

Another long coughing fit.

“Your friends were gone. The boss was furious- we might’ve killed the small one.”

His hand trembles, knife nicking the man’s throat.

A drop of blood runs down the guard’s neck.

Before he can reply, he’s shoved roughly.

Losing balance in his weakened state, stumbling away, and something cracks over his head. He gasps, knife plunging into something soft-

For a second, he’s blind. Only seeing white, his knees hit the ground, nausea clenching in his stomach-

Ringing.

Loud ringing.

He slowly scoots to find the corner of the cell as he hears sounds of a struggle through the ringing- metal on metal of swords clashing, a pained grunt-

“Sky! Sky, Sky, hey… hey, talk to me, buddy, where are you hurt?”

“Wars..?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here, Sky. I’ve got you. Where are you hurt? Drink this, bud.”

A cool bottle is nudged to his lips, hands easily moved when he attempts to push it away.

“Where’s… others?”

“Shh… drink.”

He takes a sip, sighing softly as the pounding in his head fades slowly. The ringing fades slowly. His vision clears, revealing a dusty and slightly bloody friend.

The body of his captor on the floor next to them, unmoving.

His knife sticking out of the little space between pieces of armor.

“Most of us are here, we got Four and Time, they’re alright. Promise. You just drink that, Sky. Rest up.”

He slowly finishes the potion, feeling much better afterwards. Achy and exhausted for sure, but… no longer feels like he’s burning from the inside out.

“Mm…” he tries, but his lips don’t really work.

“Good…” Wars says softly, hand slowly reaching out but backing away at the last minute. “Let’s get you to the inn, yeah? You’re safe now. I’ve gotcha.”

“Wars?! Hyrule?!”

“In here! I’ve got him!” Wars calls, making his head pound again.

“W’rs… Four?” He repeats, and Wars shushes him gently.

“He’s safe, Sky, I promise.”

He blinks grime out of his eyes, forcing himself to squint at the captain.

Legend runs into the room, kneeling next to him.

“Hey… hey, Sky.” Legend says softly, and he manages a small smile.

“Hey, Lege… how… y’doin’?”

“Good, really good, you alright? You hurt?”

“ ‘ve… been better.” He confesses, gratefully slumping into Legend’s arms when the veteran carefully scoots him away from the cold wall.

“I got him a potion, he doesn’t seem to have any serious injuries…” Wars is saying softly, and he can hear more voices slowly adding to the chorus.

Chorus? Singing… Zelda sings… he misses Zelda.

Zelda… he ought to write to her again, it’s been a while… because he was captured…

Hm. He probably shouldn’t tell her that, though.

“You can rest, Sky.” A voice whispers softly, and he manages a drowsy nod before giving in to the pull of sleep.

~~~~

“I got him a potion, he isn’t injured too bad anymore, he just needs some rest and food. Let’s get him back, we’ve been here too long.” He says, and the little group nods and readies themselves quickly.

It’s an easy trip out, to all their surprise. Sneaking past their security is… not difficult, and they only guard the cells. With little activity going on around the base, getting out unnoticed is easy.

There’s absolutely no urgency to get back to the inn like there was with Four. Sky… is… well, mostly ok.

Not really all that injured, as far as they can tell.

And he’d already had a potion.

Sky dozes off in Twi’s arms as they walk, having eaten some spare snacks and water they’d had when they got out of the base.

Not much, but more than the knight’s probably had in days.

The master sword is strapped to his back, and he has the oddest temptation to draw the sword.

His mind itches, unsatisfied with the results. He feels like he’s missing something- something important.

But Sky is with them, he’s fed and healed and sleeping gently, they have the master sword… nothing is wrong.

The skyloftian twitches.

It’s a quiet walk back to the inn.

They walk in the door, scanning Sky over for the hundredth time, meeting the others in the lobby as they walk in.

“He’s alright, he’s-”

Four’s at his side in an instant, eyes flickering over Sky, hand reaching out to gently brush over the Skyloftian’s shoulder.

“We’re guessing a nasty concussion, broken ribs, starvation and malnutrition, dehydration-”

“He has a head injury, look at his arms, put him down-”

And that’s when the seizure happens.

Twi yelps, immediately setting Sky down, Four practically shoves all of them away from the man, forcing them all to watch helplessly as Sky convulses.

“Stop!” Four says quickly when he tries to move toward his friend, and he freezes.

And they wait- not too long, until Sky slowly stops twitching and goes still.

“Sky?” Four asks softly, slowly kneeling next to the skyloftian. Blue eyes find Four slowly.

He moves next to Four, and the smithy lets him this time.

“Hey, Sky, how you feeling? You ok?” He asks softly, noting how confused the man looks.

“Mhm… ‘m ok.” Sky mumbles, eyes flicking to him before back to Four.

Four’s holding Sky’s hand… checking his pulse. Eyes lingering on his chest, watching for rise and fall…

“Sky? Can you answer some questions for me?” Four asks softly, and Sky nods.

“Good… where are you right now?”

“An… an inn. We were in the cell… Wars n Legend got me…”

“Good. Let’s get you a potion, alright? How are you feeling?”

He’s got a potion in his hands in a flash, handing it to the smithy. Four nods his thanks, eyes still on Sky.

“Just… sore. Tired.”

“Weak? Lightheaded, dizzy?”

“No.” Sky answers, and Four nods again.

Offers the potion, slowly getting to his feet.

Sky sips at it slowly, still seeming really out of it.

“Think he’s alright.” Four says quietly, looking at the ground. “That’s common after a seizure. And he had a head injury… not surprised he had one. Get that potion into him and let him sleep.”

And the smith is gone, out the door of the inn.

~~~~

It’s a long night.

Four comes back with a thick book about seizures, sitting in the room Sky’s taken with him. The kid doesn’t sleep at all, and he doesn’t have the heart to try to force the teenager when he’s not sleeping either.

So they’re both exhausted when it’s morning.

He glances at the door when he hears it open, meeting Time’s gaze. “Morning, Sprite.”

“Morning, Captain.” Time says distractedly, looking at Four. “Morning, Smithy. How’s Sky?”

Four’s eyes don’t move from the man on the bed.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” The smith says in a whisper.

Time steps into the room and closes the door. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’d quite like to talk with you, though, and you’ve been refusing for days.”

He holds his breath, the tension in the room unbearable. But the silence lingers- neither one says anything.

“Four, I’m sorry.” The old man says quietly, not moving from the door.

In case Four tries to escape.

“You’re not.” The smith mutters.

Time sighs deeply, eye closing. “Ok. I’m not. I wasn’t about to watch you die when Sky-”

“Shut up.” Four whispers, eyes flicking briefly to the door.

“Four,” he pleads, and the kid jumps. “You don’t even know what happened. Sky wasn’t in the cell when we found Time, he wasn’t with you, you were actively bleeding out, we looked for him briefly but-”

“You should’ve found him, no one cares if I-”

“BUT chances were he was in much better condition than you were!” He continues over the smith.

“You didn’t know that.” Four says, voice flat.

The kid’s fighting tears back. Good- the kid needs to process things somehow. If this is how it’s gonna happen… so be it.

“We didn’t, but-”

“If it were Wind you would’ve torn the base apart looking for him.” Four whispers, voice shaking. Then looks at Time for the first time. “If it were Twi you’d want to be the one left behind.”

The old man physically flinches.

“You don’t get to choose-” the smith’s voice breaks, and the kid stands quickly. “You promised me.”

Four’s hands jump to his eyes, scrubbing furiously at them. “You promised me. And you lied.”

He stands, too, moving slowly to the smith.

“I am sorry for that, Four. But I could never live with myself if you had died.”

Tears drop down Four’s cheeks.

“And if Sky had? If he still does?” Four chokes, grey eyes flicking to the bed again.

“I still-”

“You don’t get to play god. You don’t get to choose who dies and who doesn’t-”

Four’s voice breaks again, and then the kid is just crying.

“You promised and you still lied to me.” Four chokes, staring at Time with pure hurt.

Time slowly moves to sit in the chair Four had abandoned, meeting the kid’s gaze.

“I never intended to hurt you, Four.” Time says softly. “I took a risk- I was hoping Wars or Legend had found him, and when they didn’t… you had deteriorated so quickly. We had to get going right then. We took a risk- as far as we knew, Sky wasn’t injured badly. You were. I won’t ask for your forgiveness- I only ask for your understanding. We took a risk, and I’m not sorry for saving you. But I am sorry for the pain that choice caused you and breaking my promise.”

Four scrubs at his eyes again, sniffling.

Tries to talk, but he only manages a choking noise before the kid is just bawling.

Knees on the floor, arms around himself, face tucked into his arms to hide it.

He stands quickly and kneels next to the smithy, putting a soft hand on his back.

Which quickly turns into the kid curling into his chest, arms around him.

“Shh…” he whispers as Four cries. “I’ve got you, buddy. It’s ok. It’s gonna be ok.”

“This is all my fault.” Four sobs, and he freezes.

Then grabs Four tightly, startling the poor kid, crushing him tightly to his chest.

“No. No, you listen here. This is not your fault. You hear me? Everything was way outside of your control- no part of this was your fault. I promise you- you trust me, right? This was not your fault.”

Four chokes weakly, face pressing into his chest.

Hands weakly grabbing his tunic, sniffling sharply.

“I promise you.” He says, much more softly. “There was no part of this that was your fault. You didn’t choose to be captured and tortured. You didn’t choose any of this. It isn’t your fault. And I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it, ok?”

Four finally gives a weak nod, pulling back just enough to wipe his eyes, then sinks back into him.

And they sit there, supporting each other in silence.

~~~~

Sky wakes up slowly.

Much… nicer than when he had before.

Not nearly as much pain, just some lingering soreness… and he’s on a comfortable bed.

Four sits next to him, in a chair next to the bed.

Eyes locked on him, looking… nervous.

“Four.” He rasps, trying for a smile. He bursts into tears instead, startling the hell out of the poor boy.

Then Four’s fretting over him in a panic, asking if he’s hurt, what he needs, should he get Wars-

“You’re ok?” He sobs, grasping Four’s arm tightly before the kid can move.

Four nods, blinking oddly. Another nod, and Four makes an odd noise. Like a squeak.

He coughs, Four slowly helping him sit up and drink a bit of water.

“Yeah.” Four says softly, slowly taking his hand once he leans back again. “Yeah.”

He wipes his eyes, nodding.

Four still hovers, watching.

“It’s ok… c’mere, Four.” He chokes, patting the bed next to him and carefully scooting to the side. “We’re ok, we’re…” his voice breaks again, and he almost laughs.

Four joins him without hesitation, curling into his side with a shaking breath.

He slowly hugs his friend, rubbing his back. “Hey… hey, what is it?” He asks softly, and Four chokes.

“Nothing, it’s nothing, I’m fine-” Four cuts off weakly, swallowing thickly.

“Hey… hey, talk to me, what’s going on?” He asks softly, and Four sniffles.

Silence. He looks down at the teenager, worried-

“ ‘m sorry.” Four whispers suddenly, voice choked.

“No… no, no no, kiddo, you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t do anything wrong, ok? I promise.”

“They hurt you cuz of me- because I got hurt and had to leave- ‘n they didn’t try to find you-”

“Shh… breathe, kiddo. Just breathe. It’s not your fault. I promise, ok? You did nothing wrong. I’m glad you’re ok, and that’s all. I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you if you were… I’m just glad you’re ok.”

Four sniffles again, but nods slowly.

Then- “Love you.” The kid whispers, making a small gulping sound.

He squeezes the kid tighter, blinking yet more tears out of his eyes. “I love you too, kiddo.”

~~~~

Sky doesn’t have another seizure.

He improves rapidly, much to all of their relief.

He grows more comfortable, the lethargy wearing off, gets back to walking around, eating with them…

The skyloftian clings to Time and Four in particular.

Time still tends to stick to himself- never one for intimacy like that- but Four…

Four won’t leave Sky alone.

The smith follows the skyloftian around as often as he can, sitting next to him during meals, sharing the room and eventually even bed when Sky assures the kid he’s ok with it, and doesn’t sleep well unless Sky’s nearby.

Sky seems to enjoy it, never pushing the smith away and seeming… happy.

Their both dealing with their kidnapping and torture, but… he’s glad they can find comfort in each other.

Always has an arm around the kid, or his sailcloth, letting Four lean on his side when they rest…

Sky in particular struggles with nightmares and flashbacks, which Four helps with. A lot.

He confesses once, in a shaky whisper, that Four’s screams haunt him. The ugly scar on Four’s side that Sky’s eyes linger on, Four’s hand lingers on when the skin is exposed… and Four sleeps curled up on that side. Protecting it.

It’s a sad realization that Sky actually points out without meaning to.

Four’s drifted off early, curled up with his head on Sky’s leg, and the skyloftian casually asks “Is that the side he was cut open on?”

They all pause to look at the kid, and he nods slowly.

“Yeah. The side he’s curled around? Yeah… see the stitching in his tunic? From being repaired. That’s the side. Weird he sleeps on it, wouldn’t that hurt?”

“He always sleeps on that side. Won’t sleep otherwise. It’s like he’s protecting it- see how his arms are?”

Dead silence as they all realize this.

He slowly shifts Four to undo the belt the kid wears all the time, slowly pulling his tunic up-

“What are you doing? Wars?” Sky protests quietly.

“Making sure nothings wrong with it.” He says equally quietly, and that silences the group.

It looks fine, just a long gash of scabbing from his rib cage to his hip. Hyrule gently prods it, checking for tenderness and other signs of internal bleeding, reporting that there’s nothing.

So he’s not in pain. Probably.

Just… well, traumatized.

Sky helps him pull the kid’s tunic off, taking his headband and boots off so they can actually put him to bed. Unsurprisingly, Sky goes with him.

He carries the smith, waking past Legend, setting him gently on the bed when he gets to the room Four and Sky had been sharing.

Knees tucked up to his chest, arms wrapped around his stomach where the cut was.

“How the hell can he sleep like that?” Legend says, having followed him to the room.

Sky gets ready for bed, too, giving a small smile at them.

He has to laugh. “Right? Looks crazy uncomfortable.”

They watch the pair for a moment, then he sighs and leaves the room with the veteran.

“Think they’re gonna be ok?” Legend asks, uncharacteristically uncertain.

He takes a glance at the veteran, then nods his head.

Starts down the hall to his room, stretching slightly.

“Yeah. Yeah, they’re gonna be just fine.”

~~~~

28 notes · View notes

shu-box-puns · 6 months

Text

Shell-Shocked

(Neteyam x Reader)

Previous Chapter <- Part 3 -> Epilogue

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Summary: Eywa loves you, but not enough to save you. So good luck taking care of yourself.

Word Count: 6,934

Metkayina Reader uses they/them pronouns.

<”Someone is going to die.”>

Ronal simple statement nipped at your heels and quickened your steps. It made neteyam lighter in your arms, as adrenaline ran rampant through your bloodstream. Usually, you would have found it difficult to carry Neteyam for so long, but somehow, lying limp and injured in your arms, it was easy. As if Eywa had transformed your rage into additional strength. Your heart pounded like a thousand tsurak wings taking flight, headed straight for a dangerous but glorious battle.

As you strode purposefully across the white sands of Awa’atlu island, Neteyam’s brother hurried to keep pace. The boy glanced periodically from your stony face, to the village that lay ahead. Its occupants beginning to prepare themselves for sleep.

<”Stick close to me.”> You hissed quietly.

<”They won’t let me in.”> The boy whispered, looking moments away from peeling away from your side and disappearing off into the darkness. Instinctively, your tail curled around his waist, not holding, just encouraging to keep in stride with you. You had seen his concern for his brother, had witnessed his reluctance to abandon him even after you had gotten there.

<”Hold onto me.”> You growled under your breath, <”no one will harm you.”> For Neteyam, you would fight tooth and nail for this weird boy, who looked at you with wonder and badly concealed mistrust.

Hesitantly, he reached out and curled his ridiculously small hand around the end of your tail, his fingers squeezing slightly to still their shaking. The sensation did not bother you. As a toddler, Tsireya had tended to do the same thing to ensure she didn’t lose you whilst playing or when wandering aimlessly around the village.

At some point during the exchange, the course sands had given way to the familiar spring of the walkways as you entered the village. The boy stuck close to you as you passed the outer pods of the village. Predictably, your presence was detected rapidly, as several heads popped out of the walkways. Adults who had watched you grow from a child, appeared in the openings of their pods, and upon catching sight of you, immediately leapt into action.

<”GET THE TSAHIK!”> Someone’s father ordered, sending a flurry of boys to run full pelt down the walkways to the heart of the village.

And without you so much as having to open your mouth, the village came alive.

Hunters emerged from their pods, spears in hand, shouting orders to one another as some called for their tsuraks, whilst others followed the bloodied trail in your wake back to the island. Parents ushered their gawking children back into pods, whilst kids your age stood motionless on either side of the walkways, bug-eyed and motionless.

To think, not even an hour ago, your roles had been reversed. The mood had been amusing as Neteyam carried you out of the village for a much needed talk. Whereas now, the mood was heavy and suffocating. Neteyam lying limp in your arms with his head pressed heavily into your shoulder.

Two women approached to take Neteyam off your hands, but you found yourself holding him tighter, your lips peeling back to snarl at them. Their sympathetic looks made you feel sick. Neteyam groaned in your arms, his hand weakly clutching at you even as his strength failed him. You hushed him lightly, trying to soothe even as your own heart pounded painfully.

The women did not try to take him again, and instead flanked you as you hurried to Ronal’s pod. One stood at your elbow, hands half raised in case you faltered, and barely spared the boy a second glance, whereas the other strode ahead to clear your path to the Tsahik’s hut.

The air was tense as you rounded the woven structure and pushed your way through the string curtains.

Ronal was already laying down an assortment of herbs and shells beside a bed roll near the fire. Her expression faltered at your appearance, her hand half reaching out before she collapsed her fingers with a snap and allowed a professional calm to overtake her features.

<”Set him down here.”> She instructed plainly, reaching up to steady Neteyam’s head as you knelt beside the mat and gently lowered him. You latched onto the authority in her tone, allowing it to guide your foggy mind.

You felt numb. Or like you were holding your breath and simply drifting at the bottom of the open ocean. Any emotions you had had slipped away, leaving behind a cold fury that burned in the hollow of your chest.

Another set of hands appearing in your peripheral, weathered and large. Steady and comforting as they gently supported Neteyam’s back. Tonowari’s expression was grave as his eyes raked over the damage.

Neteyam winced at the movement, his eyes fluttering behind their lids but not opening. It sickened you to see him so pale, his freckles barely illuminated in the dim pod. His back hit the mat, and the boy cried out, a hand flying to your forearm and holding on with painful tightness as he gritted his teeth.

<”Tsireya!”> Ronal prompted, the rest of her instructions not reaching your ears as the pod exploded into a flurry of movement.

The bitter bite of herbs stung your nose as Ronal gingerly lowered herself to Neteyam’s side, Tonowari supporting her arm as she tried to get comfortable around her pregnant belly. In the background, you could hear Tsireya scrambling for bandages, for ingredients and fresh water. Her tail thrashed anxiously, threatening to upend countless stacks of Ronal’s carefully organised stash.

<”What happened?”> Someone asked you, but you couldn’t pinpoint who. Neteyam was still clinging to your arm, barely hanging on.

Someone called your name. A hand fell on your shoulder, but you were too overwhelmed to respond.

At some point, Neytiri and the rest of the Sully’s burst into the pod, only for Tonowari to intercept the kids and Jake. You heard Neytiri’s knees hit the mat beside Ronal before the teary eyed woman snapped for something to do. Anxiety rolled off of her like a miasma.

<”What happened?!”> She yelled, with all the authority of a future Tsahik. Blarily, you blinked and glanced up.

Her eyes were wide with panic, whilst over her shoulder you could see Jake pacing and the kids greeting their demon brother. Kiri had the boy in an uncomfortably tight looking hug, her shoulders shaking with what could only be described as stomach churning sobs. The boy clung right back, his fingers digging into her back as if someone would rip him off of her at a moment's notice.

You did not know what to say or how to even begin explaining what had happened. Your throat was tight, your mind slow and sluggish. The world seemed to still be moving at its usual pace around you, but you felt stuck in time. Frozen and distant. A moment in time you were terrified of shattering.

Your mouth opened with an audible crack of your jaw, but nothing came out. Neytiri glared back at you, looking at you as if you were something small. Something untrusted.

<”What?”> She asked slowly, dangerously. <”Happened. To my SON!?”>

Your ears flattened at her increase in volume, but you did not cower. Not with Neteyam clinging tightly to your arm as Ronal applied salve and pressure to the wounds.

<”They shot him.”> You finally said, your voice small and pathetic but audible. You swallowed, the world finally slowing down to your pace as you forcibly blinked the fog from your eyes. Neytiri did not demand that you specify who ‘they’ were, because you both knew who you were referring to.

<”They shot him, and I killed them.”> The words dripped off of your tongue. As fowl and forbidden as they were disturbing. You swallowed loudly, <”I killed all of them, any of them I could find.”> Their dried blood was tight and flaking around your chin, the copper still staining your tongue.

Neytiri’s righteous rage faltered. She blinked, some of her fury subsiding as she looked at you in a new light. Probably taking in your exhausted, blood stained appearance, your own bullet wounds bleeding sluggishly. Absorbing the way Neteyam held onto you, despite her presence. Something seemed to click in her mind and she softened.

<”All of them?”> She pressed.

The numbness was subsiding now, leaving you feeling weak and shaky. Neteyam’s grasp on you was a grounding for you as it was no doubt for him.

<”All of them.”> You promised.

Tsireya broke the staring contest between you and Neytiri by handing over bandages to Ronal, who instructed you to help her move Neteyam into a sitting position. You complied, allowing Neytiri to help as you tucked Neteyam’s head into your shoulder and held his hand. Ronal shuffled closer and began meticulously covering up the bloody wound with soothing green.

The commotion of the clan beyond the pod and the Sully siblings anxious whispers were the only sounds as Ronal did the best she could.

<”He will sleep.”> Ronal said simply after coaxing Neteyam into swallowing a sleeping draft.

Tsireya took the statement as a dismissal and quickly exited the pod in the last direction Lo’ak’s stressed pacing had taken him.

Neytiri however, didn’t move as she sat unnervingly still.

Ronal was gentle as she continued to speak. <”He will still be here if you look away.”> Ronal soothed with a steady hand to Neytiri’s shoulder. <”In the meantime, whilst he rests, you must check on your other children. They need you as well.”>

Neytiri looked torn but, at a soft sniffle from Tuk, managed to convince herself to pull away. On silent feet, she padded across the pod, ducked through the curtains and threw herself into her mate’s arms. Jake caught her automatically, with the arm he wasn’t using to hold Tuk, his expression grim as he simply held her.

Ronal smiled sadly after her before pointedly turning her back to you, a silent offer of privacy.

You remained sat where you were, stuck to Neteyam’s side, simply holding him and regretting everything that had led up to this. If only you hadn’t been an idiot. If only you had fought harder against going to the island. If only you had ignored the shells or worked up the nerve to do something about them. If only you haven't told Aonung about anything. If only-

You cut the thought off and focused on carding your fingers through Neteyam’s braids. He grumbled weakly at the contact, his grasp on your forearm loosening a fraction as the sleeping draft began to take effect.

<”You’re going to be okay.”> You promised quietly as he began to drift away. Little by little, his strength left him and he slumped deeper and deeper into your arms. <”Eywa made a mistake. The black shells were not meant for you.”> You were talking more to yourself than Neteyam at this point, but you had to speak the possibility into existence. <”Surely She would not be so cruel.”>

Neteyam did not respond as sleep finally claimed him. His grasp on you grew lax, so you gently laid him down. He looked as still as the dead, reclined on his back with blood seeping through the thick bandages, but not hardly as peaceful as someone who had already passed on. There was still fight in him, you knew. You could see it in the tense set of his jaw, the way he was still somehow clinging to that bloodied token. It’s soft pink shells, now a steaky seashell pink from his blood.

What had he been trying to tell you before everything happened?

You squashed that thought too. It would only be cruel on yourself to entertain it.

With a shaky breath, you backed away from Neteyam’s mat, something squirming and melancholic writhing deep in your chest. You felt your lower lip threaten to wobble, despite your best attempts to keep your expression neutral. With a wet breath, you bit your lower lip and stood.

Across the fire, you caught sight of Aonung watching you, his expression grave. You hadn’t even noticed him slip into the pod. He looked at you with pity now, his demeanour screaming fear and vulnerability. If you had felt more stable, you might have gone over to soothe him. But right now, you knew you were one wrong look away from harming yourself or someone else, so you headed for the pod exit instead.

The sun was beginning to emerge from behind the moon when you stepped out from the pod. Your gaze immediately went to the beach, to the hunters milling around in the white sand and ducking in and out of the trees for an enemy that was no doubt long gone.

A short distance away, you could see the human in the embrace of a sobbing Kiri. She had swept him up in her arms so that his feet could not touch the floor, to which the boy clung back fiercely.

Around you, the village was abuzz with organised chaos. Hunters carrying torches, combed the beaches, the island forest and the bay upon their skimwings. The fishermen sported extra weapons before venturing out of the reef for the morning catch. Even children lingered in the doorways of their homes, reluctant or unable to sleep with all the noise.

And amongst it all, you stood motionless outside the Olo’eyktan’s home, your fated potentially dying within. Regret sat bitterly on your tongue, it enhanced the stickiness of the blood on your skin, sharpened the sting of sand grinding into your thighs. Your muscles were beginning to ache harshly now, whilst your injuries smarted with every movement, and yet you felt nothing but fear for Neteyam.

>_<

A wall of shadows blocked out the morning sun some time later.

You were curled up and tucked out of sight of the main walkway, behind the Olo’eyktan’s hut, your knees drawn up to your chest and your tail curled around your feet. Mud and blood still obscured the ripple pattern of your stripes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get into the water to clean any of it off. Irrationally, you were convinced that any time spent away from the pod, might be the last precious seconds of Neteyam’s life.

And although you were nothing to him, you still wanted to be close by. Even if all you ever would be was just friends that fell out over something dumb, even if he did not have the time to see you as more, you still wanted to be there. You wanted to be able to look back and know that you had stayed. That you had tried your best with what you had had at the time.

Tsireya stepped forward first, leaving Lo’ak and Aonung exchanging uncertain looks whilst Kiri and the human remained further away.

<”How long have you been here?”> Your friend asked softly. She knelt before you, her expression pinched but kind. You didn’t dare meet her gaze and curled in tighter on yourself. How pathetic you must look. Couldn’t they leave you to grieve in peace? Surely they didn’t expect you to be a supportive pillar after the evening you’d barely survived through.

Aonung was the next to step uncertainly forward, but he did not speak. His movements were slow and obvious, as if he were approaching a cornered animal. With surprising gentleness, a hand fell to your shoulder and squeezed.

It was like someone had brought down a knife hilt on a rock. Your expression split and the tears immediately began slipping down your cheeks. You felt yourself crumble, as your ears folded and you shoved your face into your knees to try and stop them from seeing.

Tsireya made a wounded noise before she was pressing into your side, her arms around you and squeezing tightly. You collapsed against her, no longer the seasoned killer, no longer a protector. Just a kid. A scared little kid that was in desperate need of some reassurance.

<”I, I tri-tried-”> you sobbed against her, fighting to keep your words steady only for your panicked sobs to fuck them up before they could leave your lips. <”I tri-ied so har-hard to, to, to pro-protec-t him-”> <”I know you did.”> Tsireya hushed you, as Aonung’s hand slid up to your head and began gently combing through your braids. Tsireya began to gently rock you. <”I know you did.”> She promised. <”I know you did everything you could.”> <”I’m-I’m so-rry-”> <”You don’t need to be sorry.”>

<”Sorry.”> You repeated anyway as your friends held you together. “<”So sorry. Sorry. Sorry-”> <”Just try and breath.”> Tsireya soothed, <”you did wonderfully. Spider is all right, and Neteyam is going to be just fine.”> You didn’t dare contradict her. Not with Lo’ak looking like he was on the verge of tears himself. But there was a very real possibility that Neteyam wouldn’t pull through. People died all the time. What made Neteyam any different from all the other hunters that were killed by those aliens?

<”Children, what are you-”> Tonowari suddenly spoke up, appearing around the corner of the hut, only for his voice to stop in its tracks when his eyes fell on you. <”Oh. Oh Y/n.”> He said softly, softly enough that you suspected he thought you would splinter apart if he spoke too loudly. <”Aonung. Tsireya. Bring them.”>

His children obeyed easily, and you were too shattered to bother fighting it. Hands guided you to your feet, held you tenderly by the wrists and smoothed down your braids as you were guided away from the Olo’eyktan’s hut to your own just down the walkway.

Absently, you noted that Lo’ak did not follow. Although his eyes tracked the three of you, his feet remained rooted in place beside the Olo’eyktan’s hut. Standing guard in your stead, you decided. It eased something in you to know that he would remain whilst you were shepherded away.

Numbness dulled your senses as you were guided down onto a mat. Tsireya’s hands fell away from your body as the clinking of jars sounded from the shelves you kept your salves on. Across from you, Tonowari lowered himself down onto his knees with a grave expression, whereas Aonung hovered at your back, still standing with his hand ghosting against your shoulder, as if expecting you to topple over at a moment’s notice.

You were tired, you realised. Drained and more exhausted than you had ever felt following a training session. And boy, what a training session that adrenaline filled adventure had been. If you weren’t confident in your reflexes before, you were now fully assured that you could hold your own in a fight - given the right incentive.

With care, Tsireya deposited her findings down beside her father, before kneeling beside him in the typical position she would take up when assisting Ronal with her duties.

<”I am capable of patching myself up, you know.”> You croaked, wincing at how tight your throat sounded. The statement sounded weak, even to your own ears.

Tonowari nodded in that infuriatingly neutral way of his that both validated and debunked your claim. <”Perhaps.”> He agreed half-heartedly, taking the water filled sponge that Tsireya passed him with a thankful nod of his head, <”but I would feel better if you allowed us to help you.”> <”Do you even remember how to bandage a wound, Olo’eyktan?”> You challenged before you could stop yourself, startling a small smile onto his face.

<”It’s Tonowari to you.”> Tonowari repeated for the hundredth time, he paused in the conversation to shuffle closer, carefully taking your chin in one hand whilst the other began wiping away the blood stains clinging to your chin. <”And with children like you,”> he continued, <”I have never fallen out of practice.”>

As if summoned by the rustle of leaf bandages, Ronal chose then to slip into the hut. Her eyes cut rapidly across the scene before her, a nod of approval following her quick assessment as she stepped in further. <”I see you have begun without me.”>

<”You were busy, my Pearl.”> Tonowari returned easily, focusing now on taking your hands in his and getting at the blood drying between your fingers and under your nails.

His mate clicked her tongue, but offered no further comment as she took a slow circle around your back; assessing the damage. <”There are exit wounds.”> She noted aloud, eyes raking over the peppering of bullet holes shot into your legs and torso, <”but due to Eywa’s design they have already begun to clot.”>

Something in you eased at her soft reassurance. Thank the Great Mother for her foresight. Without the thick layer of fat tucked beneath your thick skin, usually intended to insulate you against the freezing temperatures of the deep sea, there was no doubt you would also be in the Olo’eyktan’s hut clinging to life.

The healing session that followed was comforting and familiar. Tonowari finished cleaning off the worst of the blood and mud before beginning to patch you up with Tsireya’s assistance, whilst Ronal rested her swollen feet by reclining back on your hammock, offering pointers if Tsireya forgot a step. Meanwhile, Aonung continued to hover, a ball of anxiety, watching intently as your wounds were treated and covered by layer after layer of soothing green leaves.

<”And you’re all set.”> Tonowari narrated with a proud smile as he secured the last bandage. <”Now, I recommend a full night of rest and plenty of food, and with any luck you’ll be back to being a nuisance in three short weeks.”> With a roll of your eyes and a huff, you staggered to your feet, much to Tonowari’s annoyance. <”Yep, sounds nice.”> You said dismissively, having already decided you didn’t have time for ‘three short weeks’.

<”Um.”> Tonowari joked good naturedly as you hobbled past. <”What did I just tell you?”> He made no move to stop you. <”I’m going to rest.”> You assured him, <”I’m just going to do it out here.”> <”Y/n.”> Tsireya whined softly, sounding close to tears. <”Your body is tired. It needs rest.”> <”I’ll rest once he’s awake.”>

<”Don’t be so stupid.”> Aonung jumped in, his hand once again taking hold of your elbow. With a growl, you shrugged him off. The younger boy flashed his fangs in response, but refused to back down. <”You’re no use to anyone if you drop dead from exhaustion.”> <”I’ll literally be sitting-”>

<”Y/n.”> Ronal cut in, her tone enough for your current sentence to die on your tongue.

<”Tsahik?”> <”In your vision, who held the black shell?”> Her tone was uncomfortably calm, a start contrast to the tense way she held herself. Slowly, you turned back to her, finding the calculated gaze of the Tsahik fixed on you.

<”Neteyam.”> You said with a swallow.

She hummed thoughtfully. <”Perhaps, but earlier, the new Sully boy told me he saw Neteyam pluck the black shell from your hair. Is that true?”> Expression scrunched in confusion, you nodded. Ronal sat up with too much speed for someone as pregnant as her. <”You stupid child! You did not tell me you were the one in possession of the shell in your vision.”>

<”I never actually held it. Neteyam was giving it to me.”> The explanation did little to calm her.

<”How could you leave out something so crucial? It was meant for you. This was supposed to be YOUR dying day, not Neteyam’s!”> She was on her feet now, looking moments away from panic. Your throat went dry again. <”Well shit.”> You breathed before glancing out of the pod towards the sky. <”Well, eclipse isn’t long over. There’s still time.”> Aonung’s expression twisted as he lightly pushed at your shoulder. <”Do not joke about that!”>

<”Sorry, sorry.”> You waved him off before continuing out of the hut.

This time, none of them tried to stop you. Ronal’s muffled voice began speaking as you turned the corner, Tonowari was quick to jump in. You blocked them out, unwilling to hear anything else. You’d survived. Neteyam would hopefully pull through. What else was there to discuss?

Stiffly, you hobbled back to the Olo’eyktan’s hut, as the sun slipped fully out from behind the moon, bathing the village in the full force of its light. As you passed the hut, you peered in through the beaded curtain to find Neteyam laid out on his rug, pale and bandaged, his jewellery removed and Neytiri softly combing back his braids. In the weak light, you could make out his laboured breathing, could see the sweat beading on his brow.

Alive; for now. You reassured yourself, before stepping away.

>_<

As eclipse stole all light from the sky, you prayed that the glow of Neteyam’s freckles would not extinguish with the end of the day.

You hadn’t moved in hours. Your muscles were stiff from disuse and your bandages in need of changing. But no one asked you to move.

It wasn’t until the bioluminescence had turned on, that Tonowari found you again. This time, he did not try to coax you away from the hut, and instead sat down beside you. He leant back on his hands, head tipped back to look at the stars as you sat together in companionable silence.

It was quiet enough that between the rhythmic laps of the waves, you could hear hushed voices from within the Olo’eyktan’s hut if you really strained your ears.

<”I can’t sleep yet.”> You said, before he could tell you to rest.

Tonowari laughed softly. <”I was not deluding myself into believing I could convince you.”> He admitted lightly, <”although, it is getting chilly. Would you not feel more comfortable sitting inside, where you can see him? Keep an eye on him.”>

Wordlessly, you shook your head.

Tonowari did not push, his arm slid around your shoulder and gently pulled you into him, allowing some of his warmth to transfer into your cold limbs. <”I understand this is hard for you.”> He soothed, <”but you are handling it remarkably well.”> The gentle praise was almost enough to reduce you to tears again. <”There is no comfort I can offer you, for a pain this deep and personal.”> <”I don’t need comfort.”> You stubbornly denied, hating the way your voice threatened to shake. <”I just need him to wake up.”>

>_<

Neteyam woke up around noon the next day.

You were passed out against Tonowari’s shoulder after spending a restless night watching the water, when Lo’ak came charging out of the Olo’eyktan’s hut yelling, <”HE’S AWAKE! GUYS HE’S AWAKE!”>

In a scramble of limbs, the other Sully kids - who had also been lingering outside the hut since the end of eclipse - tripped over themselves to get through the doorway. Energised by their eagerness, you followed suit.

Chuckling lightly to himself, Tonowari helped you up, pushing at your lower back when your knees faltered in the doorway. <”Go on.”> He encouraged lightly, pushing again until you finally stepped out of the sunlight and into the low light of his home.

Neteyam was still laid out on a mat, expression pinched as Neytiri kissed his forehead and stroked his braids. <”Mother, I’m fine.”> He kept insisting, unable to keep the laugh out of his voice. She refused to relent.

<”Never, scare me like that again!”> Neytiri threatened between kisses, pulling back to hold her son’s head in her hands, her gaze piercing.

<”I won’t.”> Her eldest promised, and judging by the narrowing of her eyes, she didn’t believe him. She relented regardless, allowing Jake to crowd in close, alongside the rest of the family.

There were lots of tears. With little Tuk crowding in close for a cuddle, whereas Lo’ak tearfully offered jabs about Neteyam being more careful next time. His brother rolled his eyes, calling Lo’ak a skxawg, which just made Lo’ak’s watery grin grow. Kiri watched from the sidelines, her hand in Neteyam’s but otherwise offering no words. After checking his son over, Jake rocked back on his knees, content to hold Neytiri.

<”Wait, where’s Spider?”> Neteyam asked suddenly, to which the boy from before was quick to shuffle forward. Amongst so many blue bodies, he had almost melted entirely into the background during the reunion.

<”I’m glad you’re okay.”> Spider offered with a tight smile.

<”Yeah, me too.”> Neteyam sighed, before another thought struck him. <”Your mask-”> <”We’ve switched it out.”> Jake jumped in, quick to soothe the sudden anxiety out of Neteyam’s tense body. <”Bob and I took it far away and dropped it in a current. With any luck, the rest of those fuckers are merrily sailing the archipelago.”> <”That is good.”> Neteyam offered.

<”It will give you a chance to heal up, and for us to move on.”> Your breath caught painfully in your throat at the same time as several other na’vi in the room. Neteyam and Lo’ak both looked panicked, whereas Kiri looked appalled at having to uproot her life again. Tuk was still cuddled into Neteyam’s side, oblivious to what her father had just implied.

<”Dad,”> Lo’ak spoke up, <“you can’t be serious.”>

<”It isn’t safe for us to stay here.”> Jake pressed. <”We’re putting this clan at risk if we remain. Best to slip away now before more recoms come.”>

<”But we have lives here.”> Lo’ak pressed. <”We have friends.”> He glanced at Tsireya who looked moments away from breaking down in tears. Her ears were lowering as realisation dawned. Lo’ak’s tail began whipping to and fro as he turned back to his parents. <”And you’re just expecting us to uproot all that again.”> <”Lo’ak-”> Neytiri tried to sooth, but the boy was already on his feet.

<”No. I’m tired of running.”> Lo’ak snapped, and he looked it. They all did. <”They’re never going to stop. Quaritch isn’t going to leave us alone just because we disappeared again. We need to fight back. We need-”>

<”Lo’ak!”> Jake repeated more firmly, cutting his son off mid rant. There was no anger in him this time, no spare energy left to scold him for speaking out of turn. <”As your father, I need to keep you safe. All of you. And I’m sorry, but this is the only way.”> Jake continued, his voice stern and as unmoving as a cliff face. <”As soon as Neteyam is strong enough to mount his ikran and stay on it, we’re going. And that is final.”>

Lo’ak glared right back at him, his tail raised high in silent challenge. But he didn’t bite back this time. Instead, he squeezed Neteyam’s shoulder in far well before turning on his heel and storming from the hut, Tsireya falling into step beside him.

Jake sighed tiredly, deflating a bit. His expression was pinched as he looked from the entrance of the pod, to his remaining children. You could practically see the decision weighing down on his shoulders, how the guilt had sapped his energy as much as his anxiety had.

<”Rest, Jake-Sully.”> Tonowari suddenly spoke up, making himself known for the first time. Amidst all the commotion, he had slipped into the background just like you, a silent observer to the scene. <”You too Neytiri, today has been stressful.”> <”But-”> Neytiri began only for Tonowari to put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

<”Do not worry, Y/n and myself will be around should Neteyam require anything.”> Uncertain, Neytiri glanced from the Olo’eyktan to you. Your eyes met, to which you nodded once. Neytiri must have seen something she trusted in the gesture, because she relented.

<”Thank you, Olo’eyktan.”>

With that, he coaxed the pair outside, leaving Neteyam with Tuk still cuddled under his arm and Spider and Kiri fussing over him. You watched them for a moment, your heart suddenly aching with the slowly dawning realisation that this sight now had a time limit. For however long it took Neteyam to heal, there would be an imposing countdown in the background, ticking closer and closer to their departure.

You swallowed with a dry click of your throat. To think, a day or so ago, you’d almost figured it out. There might have been a chance at salvaging your relationship with Neteyam, but now? Was there even a point?

<”Um, Y/n?”> Kiri said aloud, startling you out of your thoughts. <”Oh good, I thought you’d fallen asleep with your eyes open or something.”> Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

Pulling yourself off of the wall, you shifted further into the room, feeling out of place in an environment you often frequented. <”Do you need me to get you anything?”> You asked carefully, eyes finally meeting Neteyam’s and finding him looking back. The expression he wore startled you into silence.

There was pain there, hidden deep in those golden depths. But also a relief. A pride. Strangely, you saw no fear, despite everything he’d watched you do. Despite how he’d watch you tear apart na’vi twice your size and enjoy it.

<”Get over here.”> Neteyam ordered, wincing as he waved you closer. You hesitated, glancing from his bandaged injury to his pleading look.

<”I don’t want to hurt you.”> <”Don’t care. I want to hold you. Now, get down here.”> <”Why?”> You asked stupidly, hyper aware of the other three glancing between the two of you uncertainly.

Neteyam frowned, looking at you now as if you were being stupid on purpose. <”Because you scared me half to death tackling trained soldiers, got shot several times, and then carried me across half a beach like I weighed nothing. The least I can do, is give you a hug in thanks.”>

At Neteyam’s nonchalant confession, Kiri glanced at you with newfound respect clear in her expression.

You ignored her, <”you don’t need to thank me for that.”> You said truthfully, to which Neteyam nodded. And deep down, you knew he understood what you meant. That he knew you would have played far dirtier, would have fought harder if it would have saved him.

<”Maybe not.”> He agreed, <”but I would like to.”> Again, he extended his arm, inviting you to fall into it. With every heartbeat that passed, you were finding it harder and harder to resist. Your expression must have crumbled, because Kiri finally lost her patience and gave you a firm shove. Once you were moving, you couldn’t stop. With your own bandaged wounds pulling from the sudden movement, you dropped down on your knees at Neteyam’s side, before carefully enveloping him in a tight hug. The arm not cuddling Tuk curled tightly around your shoulders, pressing you impossibly tight to him. He was a warm, solid weight within your arms, and that in itself was more reassuring than periodic glances through the gap in the curtains.

Neteyam’s arm was a steady pressure across your back, firm and comforting, even more so when his hand shifted to gently cup the back of your neck, applying lovely pressure. For the first time since the guns had gone off, you found yourself breathing easier.

<”There you go.”> Neteyam coaxed softly as you melted further into his side, most of your body lying beside him on the mat instead of on top.

Someone chuckled quietly, before getting elbowed. <”The hell was that for Kiri!”> Spider whisper shouted, earning himself another hard knock.

<”Do not ruin this.”> Kiri whispered back, barely quieter than her brother. <”You have no <i>idea</i> how painful the last few weeks have been because of these two.”>

<”I just thought the purring was a cute touch!”> Spider hissed back, to which you abruptly realised you had in fact begun to purr now that you were finally in Neteyam’s arms. Strangely, it was a struggle to muffle it with how relaxed your body had become.

<”Look what you did!”> Kiri growled.

<”You know we can hear you,”> Neteyam cut in smoothly, <”right?”>

Neither of them replied.

Neteyam continued to periodically squeeze you, applying alternating pressures until you calmed, falling limp and compliant again. Perhaps later you would regret acting so openly affectionate, but for now, held securely in your fated’s arms, you couldn’t care less.

Surprisingly, it was Kiri who cracked first. <”Well, whilst you two are doing, um, that I’m going to go and speak with Dad.”> There was some rustling, which you assumed was her getting up. <”I’m going to try and talk him out of moving.”> Neteyam grimaced. <”Good luck with that. He seemed pretty set.”> She chuckled dryly. <”Well, we’ve all got to try. You just stall getting better to get me enough time to work on him.”> The way she said it implied that Jake was vulnerable to her charm. <”Tuk, I need your puppy eyes.”> <”Aye aye captain.”> Tuk grinned, giving Neteyam one last parting squeeze before hopping up. In her absence, Neteyam wound his other arm around your back, letting out a soft sigh.

<”Do you think they’ll manage it?”> Spider asked as the two ducked out of the Olo’eyktan’s hut.

<”We can only hope.”> Neteyam said sadly, <”best keep an eye on them.”>

Taking the hint, Spider hid a little knowing smile before getting up and following.

It was quiet in the hut without the three of them, almost peaceful with the rhythmic lul of the waves and the distant chatter of the clan all around.

<”Thank you.”> Neteyam repeated again, a soft purr starting up in the back of his throat. <”You don’t need to thank me-”> <”No, listen. Please?”> He insisted, tail thumping lightly against the mat. You went still, giving him a large enough opening to say his piece. He took it. <”You didn’t have to protect Spider, he was my responsibility, but you did. You protected both of us, even though you were mad at me, and you didn’t have any reason to put yourself in that kind of danger on my behalf. So thank you, you’re incredible.”>

Something large and uncomfortable blocked your airways as the full force of his words hit you. How there was nothing but gratitude in his tone. A soft sort of awe that left you reeling. <”Thank you for waking up.”> You said stupidly, for lack of anything better to offer. <”Now we’re even.”> <”Almost.”> Neteyam agreed, his arms slackening slightly. <”Could you pass me my jewellery please? The whole bundle?”> He lifted one of his hands off your back to motion to the pile in question.

Nose scrunched in confusion you complied. With care, you scooted off of him to retrieve the bundle and offer it to him. Neteyam took it out of your hands with a soft hum, his fingers carefully carding through the pieces until he unearthed the token from before.

The soft pink of the shells looked gorgeous in this light, despite the flecks of blood that had dirtied them. Neteyam made a face at the sight of the mess, to which you wordlessly retrieved a bowl of water from beside the rest of Ronal’s healing supplies.

<”Thank you.”> He said again as if he hadn’t already thanked you at least three times in the last few minutes. With care, he took a moment to lightly dip the necklace into the water, before gently rubbing the blood out of the woven knots. The angle was a bit hard on his shoulder, but he worked well enough with one hand.

<”What I was trying to say before,”> Neteyam said, <”before everything went sideways, was that I want to be more than friends. I want to get to know you with the intention of fulfilling what these shells suggest.”>

<”I see.”>

<”And,”> Neteyam continued, <”that if you hadn’t overheard Lo’ak and gotten the wrong idea, that I would have gladly accepted your courting gift if you had presented it to me.”> <”You would?”>

<”Of course I would have.”> He promised, glancing away from his task to smile warmly at you.

It was only because you had already been looking at him that you’d noticed a shell caught in one of his braids, previously obscured by his head. Thankfully, this one was not black, or grey, it was not blue or green. It wasn’t even white.

It was small. Clearly a suggestion by the Great Mother. There was hardly any pigment to it, and in the wrong light, you would have certainly mistaken it for white. You didn’t need Ronal to tell you to know that it represented new love, or at least some form of blossoming adoration. It was no longer a sign for the fated, but a symbol of what Eywa predicted would one day come to pass.

The thought unclenched something in you, allowing you to return to the present quickly enough to accept Neteyam’s courting gift as he handed it to you. <”Thank you.”> You offered, carefully lifting the gorgeously woven piece to your neck and securing it in place.

Neteyam smiled. <”It looks good on you.”>

Previous Chapter <- Part 3 -> Epilogue

#Neteyam x Reader #neteyam lives #neteyam sully #Angst with happy ending #part 3 of 3 #I lie still got the epilogue #injury #tonnes of bloody shells #too many fucking shells at this point #Also up on Ao3 #avatar twow #avatar the way of water #metkayina reader

72 notes · View notes

sameheart-sameblood · 2 years

Text

For the Good of the Realm

pairing: prince aemond x f!reader

summary: aemond reassures you of his love after you find out about his betrothal

words: 3.3k

warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, piv, fingering, angst, swearing, aemond probably being way more soft than is canon but hey im depressed let me do what i want

a/n: i've had zero motivation to write the last month but thankfully this little war criminal came along and lit a fire under me. ugh i just wanna hold his hand and maybe take him to therapy lol. also i'm being a bit revisionist and making it so he didn't kill a little kid right before the events of this fic.........

read on ao3!

Word of the betrothal spreads through the Red Keep slowly at first, then accelerates like green wildfire. Soon enough, the news seeps out of the walls of the castle and is whispered from ear to ear all throughout Westeros. You wouldn’t be surprised if the Free Cities on the distant shores of the Narrow Sea had heard it before you. Of course, in actuality you had learned of it well before most people but you should have been the first. You were owed that much.

The narrow staircase proves difficult to dart up. You lose your footing several times but ignore the scrapes and bruises that surely will need attending to. None of that matters now as you try desperately to get away from the one person you thought you could trust. Tears blur your sight, not helping your ascent. Slipping once more, you hike your skirt up and make a mad dash for the top of the steps, all the while the memories of your time in King’s Landing swirling through your head.

You had been fifteen years old when father had received a royal summons. He and your mother had gawped at the thick stationary signed with King Viserys’ emblem that fell at their feet, spirited to you by one of the Red Keep’s impressive ravens. The letter, it turned out, was not summons for one of your brothers to join court but for you instead.

Your house was small but proud, having served the Targaryens loyally through bloody wars and blessed peace. While no Baratheons or Lannisters, your family had proved faithful and the king felt that should be rewarded. It had been agreed that you would serve as a lady-in-waiting to the Princess Helaena, who was also around your age.

While an unexpected request, there was no question if you would go. Such an invitation was a great honor and as the daughter of an uncelebrated house, it was the best case scenario for you. If you stayed at your family’s lands there was little chance of marrying outside of your circle. However, with you being sent to court, you knew the silent hope on everyone’s mind was that you might catch the eye of some higher born lord. Over a decade had passed and indeed you had attracted the attention of someone of a much higher station than yours. Much too high for the likes of you.

He’s not far behind you, his pleads for you to stop and listen to him echoing off the stony steps. You daren’t turn and face him, knowing one glimpse of his face will only weaken your resolve. Nothing he can say will change things anyway. He’s engaged to a lady of proper status that would well suit a prince. Though it breaks your heart, you know there’s nothing to be done. You’ll pack your things and return home, tail between your legs. The thought of the disappointment from your family washes over you but you put your head down and trudge onwards. What is their disappointment when compared with your forever hardened heart.

Reaching the top of the stairs you run to your room, slamming the door behind you. Frantically, you pull out a traveling chest and begin stuffing all of your belongings into it. It’s haphazard and your mother will scold you to no end when she sees the state of your clothes but you just need to be on your way. The sooner you leave King’s Landing, the sooner you can purge yourself of all the memories that hold you there.

Hurried footsteps approach your door and you’re not surprised when it opens without so much as a knock. Aemond stands there for a moment, catching his breath. You pay him little mind, continuing your packing. His eyebrows knit together with worry when he realizes what you’re doing.

“Where are you going?” he asks tightly.

Letting out a pained laugh you answer. “It seems as if I’m no longer of use here. Do not worry, my prince. Soon you shall be rid of me.”

Aemond looks as if you had just started speaking Dothraki to him. “What do you mean ‘your use here’?”

Your anger overtakes you and you throw down the dress you were carelessly folding. “I mean I was nothing more than a pawn. I was a convenient way for you to learn the ways of women and how to please them. Now that you’ve had your fun with me and gleaned all you can you’re free to move on to a proper lady.”

Aemond looks at you with such heartbroken confusion that you bow your head, lest he see the tears brimming in your eyes. You push past the urge to comfort him. It is you who deserve comforting, you remind yourself.

“I have no desire to marry that Baratheon girl. When I went to speak with Lord Borros at Storm’s End yesterday the only term he would accept for pledging to House Targaryen was a marriage to unite the families. We’re already losing if we don’t have him on our side,” he says.

“That means you had a whole day to tell me. I had to hear it from your brother. He was more than happy to let me know.” You scowl, remembering the almost skip in Aegon’s step as he had whispered the news to you during dinner.

Your prince curses darkly under his breath. “Of course it was Aegon. That prick.”

Nodding you sit at your vanity and begin organizing your small collection of jewelry and trinkets. Aemond swallows down his anger at Aegon and kneels by your side. You refuse to look at him. He doesn’t touch you, worried that might spook you.

“I spent all of yesterday trying to think of a way out of it. I went to the small council, my grandfather the Hand, even my mother…” he stalls, not finishing the thought. It’s evident what he doesn’t have the courage to say.

Instead, you finish for him. “…but they told you that in order to ensure a Targaryen victory they need an alliance with Storm’s End. Which means you have no choice but to marry Lady Ellyn. For the good of the realm.”

“For the good of the realm,” Aemond parrots back bitterly.

There’s nothing to be done. Rationally, you know that. He is a prince with a duty to his kingdom. You were lucky to have him to yourself for as long as you did. In your heart, though, you know you will never love like this for a long time. Maybe never again for if this is what true heartbreak feels like then you would rather die than repeat it again.

The last piece of jewelry you find is a brilliant, blue sapphire necklace that Aemond had gifted you three namedays ago. “As blue as the Sea of Dorne,” he’d murmured to you as you had admired it. The Aemond who had gifted it to you then had fewer worries and bigger promises. You had laughed that it was indeed beautiful but you would have to take his word for it, you’d never seen the Sea of Dorne. At that, your prince had grabbed you by the hand and spirited you away on Vhagar, determined to show it to you right away. The ride on the dragon had not been exceptionally long, but once the deep blue waters came into view, it felt like you and Aemond had entered a world all your own.

Back in your chambers, though, reality has caught up with the both of you. Aemond watches you study the necklace, then rests his head against your arm. “Tell me that you want to run away with me and we’ll go right now, like we did all those years ago.”

You caress his hair for a moment, reveling in the realization that you could run away. With Vhagar to take you, no one would be able to follow. And if they did, Aemond and his dragon would make them understand that the two of you were free to do as you pleased. Real life once again makes your dreams crash down around you. Gently, you extricate yourself from Aemond’s embrace and put the last of your jewelry into the trunk.

He watches you as you close the lock with a resounding and final clunk. You turn to him, trying to look strong. “I would not ask that of you, my prince. I would not separate you from your family and leave them to despair and failure. They need your strength. We must accept that.”

For a moment, you think you’ve convinced him that you should do the responsible thing. But you should know better than anyone that Aemond never accepts defeat. His once soft and broken expression morphs into one of impassioned determination. He rises, striding to you before you realize what’s happening. Standing before you, he seems a giant, intimidating and alluring all at once.

“Tell me you no longer want me and I’ll marry that Baratheon bitch,” he says steadily.

You know you can’t. “Aemond…”

He continues, emboldened by your clear devotion to him still. “Tell me you no longer need me and I’ll walk out of here right now.”

Tears begin to course down your cheeks as you try to find the words. It’s useless, though, and Aemond knows it. He lowers his voice to a hushed, honeyed whisper.

“Tell me you no longer love me and you need never see my face again.”

Any resolve remaining in you dissipates and you close the gap between you, whispering his name pitifully before you bring your lips to his. At first it’s sweet and tentative, two lovers reminding each other of their affection. But at your first whimper, Aemond deepens the kiss, holding you close to him, your bodies molding together.

In an instant, he’s ripping you out of your dress. Aemond doesn’t wait for it to completely fall off, satisfied with your bodice no longer in the way of what he wants. He turns you around so suddenly, you gasp, trying not to lose your footing. You needn’t worry though, he catches you, pressing your back to his chest. Even through the skirt that still clings to your body and the leather of his pants, you can feel him hard as dragonscale.

The both of you revel in the feeling for a minute, you pushing back into him and Aemond kneading your hips comfortingly. The spell is broken by another of your pitiful moans as you seek more friction. Aemond chuckles, “Impatient as ever, my love.”

Knowing exactly what you want after years of exploring your body, Aemond brings his hands up to cup your breasts. Your head lolls back onto his shoulders as he massages them gently. His hands are calloused from years of sword fighting and it makes you shiver. Without even seeing him, you just know he’s smirking. Aemond removes one of his hands, squeezing your nipple before he abandons it. The sound of more tearing fabric reaches your ears as he pulls off your skirt.

You whine until you feel him slide his hand along your belly, giving you goose bumps. His hand cups your cunt, pulling you back into him again, his other hand still working at your breast. Aemond slips a finger through your folds, chuckling at how worked up you are. He takes pity on you and begins rubbing languid circles on your clit as he kisses softly down your neck. It’s definitely sacrilege to think but you’re sure this must surpass any of the seven heavens the septons preach about.

There’s one thing that could make this heaven even better. You put your hands on Aemond’s to signal him to stop and he turns you around, worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” His breathing is heavy and you smirk when you realize he’s just as excited as you are. You lay a hand on his cheek and he smiles, closing his eyes as he leans into it.

“I want to feel you, my dragon.”

Aemond begins to undress himself. “Please,” you whisper, “let me do it.” His breathing quickens even more as he nods. Fingers trembling, you undo the buckles of his shirt. Usually, time together is limited and Aemond would do this task himself to speed things along. Instinctively, he reaches to help you but you playfully shoo his hands away. He watches you with a fond smile as you get the hang of it. Buckles undone, you shimmy the shirt off of him and toss it aside. His chest bare, you can’t help running your hands over it, mapping the expanse of the scars that run across it. Aemond shudders and groans. You could do this all day but he’s getting restless. “Please, my love.”

Chuckling, you begin undoing his trousers. “Who’s the impatient one now?”

You bend down to help him step out of them. Once free of all of his clothes, he tries to get you to stand but you stare up at him with a smirk. He’s right there, hard and ready begging to be touched. Your hand closes around his cock and he moans. You mean to take him in your mouth but Aemond has other plans. “Not now. I’ve other plans for you tonight.”

He pulls you up and you yelp in surprise. “Aemond, wait.”

Tonight, you want him truly naked. “I want to see all of you, Aemond.” He knows exactly what you mean and after a moment, he nods. You reach up carefully and undo the patch that covers his missing eye. You’re greeted with a dazzling sapphire that matches the necklace he gifted you. If Aemond had his way, he wouldn’t wear the covering at all but he knows that without it the people of court deem him more of a monster than they already do. Part of him is still a scared little boy who wonders if maybe they’re right.

You hold his face as you reach up on tiptoes to tenderly kiss the scar across his eye that constantly reminds him of the loss. In return, Aemond kisses you hard and lustily. He pushes you back on the bed and you giggle as you bounce slightly. As you look up at him, he undoes the clasp holding his hair back and lets his silvery gold locks fall freely around his face.

Now he’s ready to take you.

Aemond lowers himself on the bed and crawls towards you. Intuitively, you open your legs for him and he rests between them, like a panther assessing his prey. He stares down at you, caressing your cheek. You’re sure you’ve never seen a more beautiful sight. You don’t have long to admire him though as he’s set in motion. Aemond kisses you fiercely, then grabs one of your knees, bending it up towards your chest to give him better access to your cunt. He presses a finger into you, stretching you as you whimper.

As he works you open, he takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks lazily. When your whimpers turn to moans, he adds a second finger. He curls them inside you, searching for the place that makes you see stars. It doesn’t take him long to find it. It never does. Aemond sits back up to focus on his task. As he presses on the spot, you prop yourself on your elbows and watch him at his work. He feels your gaze and stares right back at you, grinning. Your mouth falls open as he presses harder and faster. The noises you’re making are animalistic and it’s a wonder you haven’t woken up the whole castle.

Aemond brings his lips to your clit and sucks as he presses more insistently. The pleasure crashes over you and you come suddenly, wailing as you fall back down into the pillows. Normally, your lover would give you a moment to recover but deep down both of you know this might be your last night together. A second after your undoing, Aemond’s crawling over you and pressing his cock to your entrance. You grab his ass, trying to push him inside of you faster. He takes the hint and slips inside, both of you moaning in unison.

The prince pauses for a moment, closing his eyes and reveling in the feeling of being enveloped in you. You let him stay there a moment then tease him by squeezing your walls around his cock, bringing him back to the present. The smirk is wiped off your face and replaced with a satisfied sigh as he pushes into you over and over again. The overstimulation gives way to pleasure again and you know you won’t last much longer. But you want to hold out and wait for Aemond to finish with you.

Aemond’s lips come to yours as he continues to rut into you. Wrapping your legs around him, he speeds up and buries his face in your neck. You cradle him against you as you let the bliss you’re feeling push away all the thoughts of what’s to come tomorrow. Your prince hits a particularly sensitive spot in you and your nails scratch down his back as you come once more. Aemond follows after you shortly, groaning as he finishes inside of you.

You lay there for a moment, both of you sweaty and satisfied. Aemond moans happily as you run your fingers through his soft hair. After a few minutes, he rolls off you and pulls you into his chest. Thoughts of what you’ve been avoiding creep back into your mind and based on how quiet Aemond is, you know he’s thinking it too. You’ll be damned though if you’re the first one to break the reverie you’re in.

Aemond breaks the silence for you. “I want to marry you”

You gaze up at him and smile sadly. “I want the same. Though I don’t think the gods will allow it, my prince.”

“Gods be damned. Let me take you away from here. We can marry before my mother even knows we’re gone. She’ll have no choice but accept once she sees the truth of it.”

You think back on your history lesson from Maester Gerardys. “We’ll be like King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne?” It’s a folly and you say it as such but Aemond is invigorated by the thought.

“They married against the wishes of their mother. Why shouldn’t I? Everyone thought their union would throw the realm into chaos but it didn’t. Ours would be just as blessed.”

It pains you to be the one to bring the dream to an end but the kingdom hangs in the balance. “But what of Borros Baratheon?”

Aemond sneers, “That illiterate bastard can find another to marry his daughter. If he breaks his oath and runs back to Rhaenyra then Vhagar and I shall pay him a visit he shan’t soon forget.”

You want to argue more, beg Aemond to see reason. But the hour grows late and your body craves sleep. You snuggle up to him and close your eyes. Aemond takes your silence for an agreement.

“We’ll fly away tomorrow. Wherever we land we’ll find a septon to wed us.”

You hum a sleepy “Of course, Aemond.”

The prince looks down at you and smiles sadly. He’s not stupid. You’re only placating him but doesn’t matter. His plan is a dream but it’s something to hold on to until tomorrow brings about the stark reality of your situation.

But those are troubles that sleep will wave away. Aemond blows out the candle and brings the blanket up to cover your shoulders. Soon sleep descends on him and his eyes get heavy. Before he’s completely overtaken he murmurs to you in High Valyrian.

“Avy jorrāelan”

He doesn’t expect a response but breaks into a sluggish grin as you whisper back.

“I love you too, Aemond.”

******

#how am i supposed to wait til 2024 for more of my baby #prince aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #allie writes

752 notes · View notes

apartmentsmoke · 19 days

Text

seven sentence sunday

For my "BuckTommy fuck with the medals on after the ceremony" fic. Thanks for the tag, @vineofroses!

“Hey, Evan, did you watch pro wrestling as a kid?” Tommy says. Buck turns to look at him but his eyes are focused on the road. “Pro wrestling?” “Yeah, y’know, WWF, The Undertaker, Hulk Hogan, Andre the Giant. Ever see it?” “Only once? Uh, my parents didn’t let us watch that kind of stuff.” He’d been flipping channels, bored, and there had been two men yelling suck it! with hip thrusts. His mom had turned that off fast. Buck had tried turning it on a couple more times to see if she’d notice, but she never did, and he lost interest. “Ah. Well, my parents didn’t give a shit what I watched.” Tommy’s face, lit by a passing streetlight, goes stony for a split-second. “Anyway. My point is, pro wrestlers win title belts, and when they win belts, one of the first things they do is fuck with them on.”

Open tag if anyone is interested in sharing!

#tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy #my fic #pro wrestling fan tommy kinard they can never take you from me #he hasn't kept up with it in a long time - hence him calling it wwf - but when he was a kid he loved the escapism

19 notes · View notes

flatoutin-eaurouge · 1 month

Text

Curious Boy

Trying out a Kimika fic! Bless the discord and all the lovely people in it! 😭😭 If you love wild fic ideas, you will be fed!

Pairing: Mika Häkkinen x Kimi Räikkönen

"Ah there you are. Come in!" Mika opened the door of the McLaren garage a bit further, inviting the young Finn in with a mysterious smile.

Kimi stared at his taller and older compatriot and swallowed. Mika was still in his racesuit, looking sweaty and smelling of champagne. There was something so alluring about the older Finn's experience on track and his unwashed face. He had seen it all. He had survived it, and braved it all. Been there done that.

Mika grabbed him by his shoulder and guided him towards the MP4-16 cars with quite a heavy hand. The black-and-white Silberpfeils were shimmering in the dim garage lights, but Kimi only thought about one thing.

He felt how Mika's heavy hand sent sparks to his groin. Jesus why the fuck was that necessary?!

Mika grinned broadly when he noticed the younger Finn, with the sweat-matted hair and the rosy cheeks, gape wide-eyed at the brute cars. They were so much more refined than the Saubers.

Mika loved that excited look on him. The guy was always in awe with everything Mika showed him, and he only expressed his wonder when he was with Mika. In front of the press he always put on his stony façade. He was a closed book, that people outside his social bubble always failed to open.

Kimi looked up bewildered at Mika. "Am I allowed to see this? Does Ron Dennis know I am here?"

Mika smirked his crooked smile and gave Kimi's shoulder a little squeeze. "Don't worry about Ron. I don't think he minds you being here."

"Wait! What does that mean?"

Mika's grin broadened more and more. "I'm not telling you, utelias poika."

Kimi felt himself being drawn to that playful behaviour. He pushed the older Finn against his chest. "Stop being mysterious!"

Mika grabbed both hands of the young Finn and walked him backwards. "You're being very nosy! Are you used to always get what you want? Is that it?"

Mika knew Kimi would be getting his McLaren seat way before the boy himself would find out. He liked to spoil the young man, but the kid was way too eager to pull information from him.

Kimi blushed heavily when his older compatriot was towering over him, holding both his wrists in a viselike grip. He felt a drip of cold sweat track down his spine. The stark contrast with his hot skin caused him to jump, bumping into Mika's broad frame.

"Why are you showing me the cars then?"

"Because I like that look on your face."

"What look?"

"That look that you don't show to others." Mika caressed his cheek and stared fondly at his expressive face. "Tell me, is that look only for me?"

Kimi stared at the older Finn open-mouthed. "It-it's... I-I don't know what you're talking about." He gulped.

Mika stared at his adam's apple bobbing up and down. It caused him to strengthen the hold around Kimi's wrists, squeezing the delicate flesh between his fingers. The young stallion seemed very eager to find out what he was trying to convey.

"What-what about Michael?"

Mika quirked an eyebrow and pursed his lips. "Michael is ok with sharing as long as he gets some too," he was quick to counter.

"That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"Oh, is it not?" Mika threw him a smug look.

Kimi felt all the blood that was once colouring his cheeks crimson red, draw southward to his lower regions, where his underwear started to feel tighter.

Mika was clearly rizzing him up, trying to get him to make the first move. He probably wanted to test his boundaries without crossing them. The slik bastard.

"You didn't strike me as a shy boy, you know. You're clearly introverted but not shy?" Mika gave meaning to his words by pressing his hips stiff against the younger man's hips. "Maybe you need a bit more encouraging."

Kimi bit down on his bottom lip, almost drawing blood. "Whatever you want old man...," he mumbled under his breath.

"What did you say?"

Kimi swiftly grabbed the older Finn by his collar, ripping open the velcro of his racesuit and zipping the overalls all the way down.

He stared at the sweaty see-through fireroofs stretched taut over Mika's broad chest. Noticed the stiff nipples hardening under his gaze. You like that old man?

Kimi leaned forward and mouthed the damp textile, breathing in and out and drawing circles with his tongue. He loved the texture. He wanted to penetrate the fabric with his tongue to taste Mika's salty sweaty skin.

Mika's hand was in his blonde hair soon enough, yanking his head backwards as he pressed his own lips against the long line of the younger Finn's throat, sucking the sensitive skin into his mouth.

Kimi felt both their bulges grow where they were joint together in the heated press of their hips.

He grinded up against Mika's crotch and moaned loudly when he felt the older Finn take the skin of his collarbone between his teeth.

"Mika...!"

The lovebite stung and would remind him of this moment for many days to come.

The older Finn grinned smugly at him. His hands trailed down Kimi's arms and grabbed them both in a white knuckled grip. "What would you say if we'd play it a little rougher."

Kimi's eyes grew the size of saucers. He felt Mika's face drop towards the collar of his fireproof shirt. He took the textile into his mouth and pulled the collar down, stretching the fabric too its limits and tearing it in the process. His hands moved to Kimi's hips where he squeezed his flesh together harshly with his big, strong hands.

Kimi felt himself go delirious with lust. His lips parted and he let out a soft needy moan. "Jumalauta, Mika!"

He quickly pressed his lips together, embarassed by how desperate he sounded. Mika starting to play it rougher made him want to scream more unholy things. Especially when the felt how the older Funn's hand started to palm his bulge through his pants.

"Perkele!"

He bit down on his lip harshly, feeling incredibly aroused. But two can play a game! He wasn't a shy boy. He was more experienced than Mika would ever know.

He planted his face back against the older Finn's chest and bit down hard on one of the stiffened nipples, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud.

Mika threw his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, feeling tremors of joy run down his spine. "Bad bad boy!" He bit his bottom lip to surpress a moan.

Mika's reaction was like fuel to the fire inside Kimi's body. "Bad boy" suddenly sounded like audible honey to him.

Hmmm.... honey! He bit down hard in the solid skin of Mika's pecs. He felt Mika's body tense against him, spurring him on even more. He went on to ravage that firm chest with bite marks that he knew would be fury red and loudly present underneath the now ragged fabric of his fireproof shirt.

"Oww! Stop! Not so agressive!!!"

Mika all of a sudden pushed him away.

Kimi startled and stared at the older man with wide eyes. "What did I-I... Oh... uhm?"

They were both staring at the dark red spot starting to bloom on Mika's fireproof shirt. The damp crimson stain started to spread across the white textile.

Mika's bottom lip started to tremble. "Why did you...?"

"I-I'm so-so sorry!" Kimi felt himself starting to shake when he noticed his tough, experienced compatriot tearing up.

"Mika?"

Mika covered the a-little-too-eager love-bite with his hands and let out a pained sob.

"I-I-I am not so good with blood lately... You know after... you know..."

Wrapping his arms around himself, Kimi let out a broken whine, horrified by what he had done to his mentor.

Mika sat down in a corner of the McLaren garage, cowering inside his unzipped racesuit, arms crossed over his chest. His cheeks damp with tears. "The smell of blood... I can't take it anymore."

Kimi hurried to kneel down next to him and stared at the equally blonde man with tears in his eyes. He put an arm around the older man's shoulders and wiped at his own damp eyes. "I'm so sorry I hurt you."

Mika shook his head in embarrasment. He felt like a little boy again. "It's not you fault. I spurred you on. I might have liked it if..." he sniffled. "I'm sorry I make you feel bad about it."

Kimi's hand moved down to hem of Mika's fireproof shirt and pulled it up, seeing not one but multiple bleeding marks on his chest.

It was strange to see his experienced mentor reduced to tears. Not that Mika hadn't been crying all over the televison screens during quite some grand prix weekends in the past.

But this time it was about the blood and maybe the memories that he had been trying to erase.

He pressed a kiss to the older man's cheek.

"Do I need to get Michael for you?"

Mika's voice sounded small all of a sudden. "Please."

#mika häkkinen #kimi räikkönen #mika hakkinen #kimi raikkonen #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1fanfic

23 notes · View notes

msfcatlover · 1 year

Text

Every Monster Can’t Be Your Kid, Bruce.

Inspired really heavily by You, Me, and the Humanity in Between by JUBE514, which I misunderstood the first time I read it and thought they were all going to be different types of monsters. So Dick & Jason are very close to that story in their origins here. You should absolutely read that fic, because it’s fantastic, but the major take away for my AU is that if you pour enough love into something, it can come to life, and the more life & love it carries the more “real” that life becomes.

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

Dick is an antique doll, handed down through generations of Graysons, becoming gradually more alive & aware as time went on. It was John Grayson and eventually his wife Mary who managed to tip Dick over into being animate even when people were watching him. Dick only became more & more real from there, as John & Mary shared their love of flying with him, and eventually shared the spotlight & love of their audience. The circus as a whole saw Dick as a blessing, being fully aware of his inhuman nature but accepting him as a source of good luck… until John & Mary fell, leaving their doll-son behind. Dick could actually see his place in the family he’d been part of turn towards superstitious whispers, as his movements stiffened and his joints became more visible. He wasn’t anyone’s good luck charm anymore.

Bruce also saw how everyone turned on that poor little boy, and rushed to give Dick a place to stay, haunted by the whispers of his own childhood that found ways to blame Bruce for what happened to Thomas & Martha Wayne. Bruce isn’t exactly great at expressing his love, but Dick never needs to doubt it when he can see & feel the evidence right there in his own body. And when Robin met the rest of the hero community, they loved him too, giving Dick the chance to actually grow up for the first time in almost 150yrs.

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

The first thing Jason ever experienced was love, as the city itself brought him to life. The second thing was freedom, as Jason slipped from the rooftop he’d been carved for and for the first time experienced flight. The third was agony, as Jason struck the ground and his wings snapped right off.

Jason’s not technically a gargoyle. Gargoyles are structurally important, directing water away from the building, and basically never come to life. Jason is a grotesque, carved for decoration & to ward off evil spirits. Without any family to go to, Jason stuck to that second job, protecting the people of his neighborhood as best he could. Batman investigated what he thought was a new vigilante, and found a boy carved from solid stone who could almost pass for human if he stayed out of the light. Bruce worried Jason would suffer the same rejection Dick had, and offered Jason a home; it took some convincing to tempt Jason away from his territory, as it is in Jason’s nature to stay in place in order to protect, but eventually Jason agreed in exchange for training.

(The new Robin doesn’t bend or jerk the way the last one did, but he hits the ground like a meteor strike, and rakes gouges in brick with his claws. He doesn’t shatter & grin through any injury, because most weapons glance off or shatter themselves against his stony skin.)

(Joker submerged a boy carved from centuries-old limestone in an acid bath, and by the time it was drained there wasn’t enough left to animate. Bruce still called every magician he knew, hoping to hear someone say Jason was still alive despite that.)

(Talia had a marble sculpture carved, and had what was retrieved from Jason’s coffin sealed at its core. It still took one hell of a ritual to bring him back, now with a tail that lashed & wings that swept the ground behind him to go with the fangs & claws he’d always had. The new body was perfect in the way only sculptures can be, and Jason just kept himself covered up rather than bother painting & repainting color onto his skin every time he went out in public, lacking the love to lock it in.)

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

Tim was the opposite of his brothers. If you love something, anything, you can bring it to life; if something goes unloved & ignored, on the other hand… Tim just slowly faded into the background of his own life. Nobody talked to him at galas. His parents overlooked him at dinner. Other kids avoided him, while staff wouldn’t look him in the eye. Until one day Tim’s teacher was calling attendance and called Tim’s name three times before Tim abruptly stood up, chair screeching across the floor, and snapped, “I said, I’m right here!” The whole class stared wide-eyed, as though Tim has appeared from nowhere.

Tim learned to take advantage of it. He learned what he could do, as something reality itself sometimes ignored (if Tim closes his eyes and has no one else observing him, he can even bypass laws of physics to move through walls or take a few steps out on open air.) Tim tried to convince himself it was just meta-powers manifesting, and it was pure coincidence how closely his condition mirrored mythical Echo (at least people always hear her voice.)

The only time it doesn’t work is if someone wants to notice Tim. A paradox, as first they need to know the true Tim well enough to want to notice him, rather than their own preconceived notion of Tim or one of the masks that Tim puts on. On the plus side, once Tim became Robin that meant he had people he could reach out to who would answer the phone & talk him through it when reality felt especially swimmy or Tim’s own sense of self might waver. Being overlooked is also just one hell of a superpower, and Tim puts it to good use.

(Tim is eternally annoyed once he starts getting close to people and can no longer slip past them. He demands to know why they can see him, and they’re like, “Because we want to? Because we care about you?” and Tim’s like, “Well that’s inconvenient!”)

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

Finding a decapitated teenage girl caught under one of the docks was just an especially depressing day for the Gotham PD. Finding a corpse that grabbed back when the coroner went to move it meant it was time to call in the Batman. Steph didn’t know Morse code and her eyes & ears were currently stuck somewhere in muffled darkness far away from the rest of her, so communication was rough but they eventually got her story out of her. Revenants come back for specific reasons, so it was expected she would be there when her father was apprehended; the words he screamed when he saw her corpse, and the beeline Steph made for the box under his workbench put any remaining doubts to rest. Steph picked the lock by touch, and retrieved her head with a huff of relief.

Then Robin said, “Did you find it?” and Steph jumped, throwing her head at him on instinct. It was very embarrassing for both of them, and when Robin handed Steph her head back and she balanced it back on her neck, she immediately started blushing.

(Bruce buys Steph a whole lot of beautiful “necklaces” to help keep her head balanced. Spoiler is the Headless Horseman of Gotham, and Steph finds it hilarious to play into the image. She no longer experiences true pain, just deep discomfort, and gets very good at lobbing her head like a grisly dodgeball at anyone she dislikes.)

(Steph’s a lot more lively than most people expect of the undead, eating & chattering, even getting sick sometimes. She loudly proclaims that the best part of losing her head is that she no longer has to taste it when she throws up, as long as she’s quick enough removing it—when Steph does puke, it’s mostly bilge-water, no matter what she put in her stomach ahead of time.)

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

Cass is a homunculus, but I have no details. Damian’s got his “mixed DNA clone” origin going on. That’s where I’m at with this one.

175 notes · View notes

irondadfics · 9 months

Note

I'm looking for a fic on ao3. It's bio irondad. I remember it's Stony. And that in the beginning Tony didn't really acknowledge peter (who is a baby at the beginning of the fic. or something around 1-3 years old). then he gets kidnapped by the terrorists and he realizes that he has a kid waiting for him. I remember three scenes specifically. The first is after Tony gets back from his kidnapping. He tells JARVIS to find the best rated baby items and put it on his black card (i think???) and tells him to check the reviews. Then another scene i think Tony punches a reporter and then goes and apologizes to the reporter and lets him interview him. The next scene is when Natasha (at the time Natalie) comes in and beats Happy and Peter laughs. Then then another scene it's when Steve tells Tony 'you only ever put yourself first.' and ppl laugh at steve for saying that and then Tony pulls out his wallet to show Steve pictures of Peter and says someting along the lines of ' This is Peter. He is my first priority.' and then at some point Steve takes Peter to the Zoo and peter makes a scene. We find out that Peter thinks Steve ordered Tony to take the nuke into the portal and that's why Peter doesn't like Steve at first. that's all i can really remember. ive been looking for this fic for awhile. it's okay if you aren't able to find it. thank you!

Hi, this is for you.

#foundfic #irondad #biodad #stony #angst #fluff

44 notes · View notes

petite-madame · 1 year

Note

I love your art so much! There's some characters I'm not interested in until I see your gorgeous work and then it's like a switch just flips in my brain. You have this power! Don't abuse it lol Kidding! You should go crazy with it and make us all crazy in consequence! I will happily follow whatever new pairings you draw! Thank you for sharing with us! I'm off to discover whether there's Mystrade fanfiction now~

Hi anon ^^

Please! Thank YOU so much for your message and for the great feedback about my art, it's very kind of you. ❤

There's some characters I'm not interested in until I see your gorgeous work and then it's like a switch just flips in my brain.

That's such an amazing compliment. 😍 It's like saying, "I hate tomatoes but this tomato soup you cooked is delicious, can I have another plate please?" ❤

But yes, art have this power, I guess! 😁 I started to ship Destiel because of Artmetica's fan art. I had a look at the artworks, then I read a couple of fics and then…oh well, you know how it is!

"Just one fic..." and then it's the inevitable fall into fandom madness...

Some people told me it was the same thing for them thanks to my Steve/Bucky or Steve/Tony art. Good! 😁 It makes me happy if my art can change your mind on a ship. The more, the merrier, welcome to this side of the fandom. 😆

You have this power! Don't abuse it

Don't worry, I don't: with great powers comes great responsibilities.🤓

I will happily follow whatever new pairings you draw!

So far, I already draw a lot of stuff, Stucky, Stony, Destiel, Johnlock, Ironstrange, Mystrade…I have no idea what will come next. Life is full of surprises. 🤓 I rewatched The Hobbit Trilogy last week so, who knows, Bilbo/Thorin may come next 🤣

I'm off to discover whether there's Mystrade fanfiction now~

May I recommend you the ones by Mottlemoth on A03 ? However, you'll need to be logged in to read the fics or else, they won't appear on their page. I hope you will enjoy their stories as much as I did, it's really a great author. 💗

Thanks again and have a great day. 💗

#pmasks

62 notes · View notes

bucknastysbabe · 2 years

Text

Oh look another subby Aegon fic, who would do that????

Anyways!

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: A little prequel to how our lovely Uller met Aegon. Then made him cry with womanly power. He’s such a brat.

Tags: Super rich kids with nothing but loose ends, Dom!reader, dornish!reader, sub!Aegon, overstim, riding the dragon babyyyy, v!sex, alcohol/drug use, man tears of course, no beta we die like Aegon’s liver, crying during sex, AFAB!reader, what’s slow burn these two are way too horny for that

Burning matchstick quick

Ali had dragged you along to the social claiming, “These guys are rich and cute!” Rich and cute usually meant coke and assholes. Besides you’d heard the infamous Prince Aegon Targaryen would be here. As the Governor of Dorne’s daughter you would punch him out if possible.

He had a punchable face.

You wore a tight dress and impossibly high heels, decked in gold jewelry. Your childhood best friend, the princess, was similarly styled. She was already drawing looks with her easy smiles and sultry eyes. Aliandra flipped her hair effortlessly and pulled you along through the crowd and flashing lights. People grinded together around you, the smell of weed and booze heady in the air.

You were determined to break out of that nerdy shell from your younger years and make your mark in college. Most knew you as Governor Uller’s eldest daughter, the smart one, the dutiful one, the serious one. You’d get a fresh start at King’s Landing University.

Aliandra yelled into your ear, “I have a friend back here! He’s the President!” You rolled your eyes as a cocky looking blonde swaggered up. He declared, “Princess and sexy friend! Name’s Jason. Jason LANNISTER!” You weren’t sure why he needed to yell that but frankly weren’t surprised from his last name.

He wrapped arms around both of your shoulders, escorting you two past some pledges and a hallway. You tried to remain unfazed by the scene in the room at the end. Emphasis on the tried because you were watching the prince of Westeros snorting an obscene amount of blow. Ali babbled, “Holy shit! Let me in on that!”

You stared at the carbon copy of Jason and asked, “Can I get a drink?”

The twin chuckled and asked, “What’s your poison Uller? I try to be respectful and let chicks watch,” he jabbed a thumb to Jason, “unlike that asshole.” You leaned against the counter and rolled your eyes, huffing, “I guess I’m already famous. Just some white shit and a soda, Tyland.”

He grinned at you and poured up.

The manic prince bumped into you, glaring with blown pupils. He sneered, “Watch out! Fucking freshman.” Rage lit in your chest. Aliandra cackled, “Oh he’s going to get it.” You shoved him and hissed back.

“Watch out! Fucking drunk pricks.”

Aegon’s mouth opened dumbly for a long period, his cheeks flushing. He muttered something and grabbed a beer. Off he went down the hallway. You commented, “What a dick head…” Tyland shrugged, “Glad you gave it back to him— never seen the slayer that befuddled.”

Jason interjected with a high Ali hanging on his arm, “Nice one! The slayer is oh-for-three.”

“Why are you calling him that?”

The Lannisters simultaneously responded, “Record of fucking most freshman.”

You scoffed and suggested having shots instead of being more annoyed by the Targaryen’s presence. Shots flowed, you met new people, and ended up forcefully dragged by your best friend to dance. Aliandra laughed in glee, dancing on a her true crush, Addam. Jason awkwardly pouted nearby nursing a beer.

A body sidled up next to yours, you turning in surprise. Your stony eyes met the violet eyes of the prince. Aegon seemed to be sizing you up. You gave him a look and turned back around pointedly. Then a ringed hand curled around your waist, pulling you into his warm body. He’d better be careful or you were going to kick him. Totally did not want to ride his cock until he cried or anything.

“You’re hot for a stuck up rich girl,” he rasped into your ear. You swayed to the music, gritting your jaw at Aegon’s stupidity. He continued, “No really, I don’t usually go for the Dornish.” You gave him a look as if to ask ‘What the shit?’. He smiled with glassy eyes, too invested in your face. You tried to keep your eyes from darting to his dumb pretty lashes or full lips.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” you spat.

“And you’re a fucking bitch, what’s the hold up?”

This blonde asshole really had the gall. You didn’t mind it anymore, impulsively setting your mind on fucking the attitude out of the prince. You twisted around to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Aegon smirked down at you, grabbing a handful of your ass lecherously. His face fell when you teased, “I’ll show you a gods-damned bitch. Take me to the back, my prince.” A flicker of something passed over his face, but Aegon exited the dance floor, a hand tightly at the small of your back.

The brother room was empty, Aegon slapping off the light. You purred, “I think the couch will be a good spot, what say you?” Aegon nervously laughed, “Not the first time, sweetheart.” He was out of his element, you’d dealt with enough bluffing males surrounding your papa to know that.

You pushed Aegon down onto the ratty couch and straddled his waist in one fluid motion. He yelped and two palms instinctively held your waist. He stuttered, “F-fuck you’re forward.” You relished the fear in his widened violet orbs.

“You haven’t even seen the half of it, sweetheart.”

You gripped his chin in a rough embrace and claimed the prince’s full lips. He tried to fight back, locking you two in a battle of teeth and tongue. You licked into his mouth, moaning at his skilled tongue. Aegon hummed at that, nipping your bottom lip playfully.

You ignored his antics and massaged his tongue with your own gently. Lull him into complacency first, then shock the poor baby again. One of his hands stroked at your hair while you shared kisses with him. Aegon moaned low in his throat, shifting his hips minutely. Your lips danced against his almost perfectly. Almost too much so for the first time.

You pulled pack, a string of spit connecting your lips. Aegon groaned with a grimace, “What?” His dick was insistently making it’s presence known between your thighs. With a sharp grin you slowly grinded up, up, up against him. The prince gasped into a broken wet noise. His violet eyes were frantically darting around— overwhelmed.

You cooed into the shell of his ear, “What? Never had a chick fuck you right?”

He half-whispered, “O-of course. Fuck- do I look like?”

You nipped at his pierced ear, kissing your way to his pretty neck. Aegon had such pallid skin. You wanted to see it flush and purple under your teeth. Still rocking against the flustered prince in a filthy grind, you sucked bruises into his pulse point. Aegon’s hands gripped for dear life, whining and immediately biting his lip to stifle the noise.

You murmured, “I’m gonna ride you now.”

He nodded in a daze, red lips swollen from bites. You thumbed at a particularly dark hickey, enjoying the way Aegon writhed. His breath came in short pants, a flush high on his cheeks. Laying a hot kiss on the tender hollow of Aegon’s throat, lithe hands slid down his taut body.

He threw his head back petulantly as you undid his expensive belt. Aegon was at a loss for words, one second looking like he was going to curse you out, then the next as if the prince was going to sing your praises. Nothing resembling the common tongue slipped past his lips besides low moans and bitten off whimpers.

Your manicured hand eased Aegon’s flushed cock out of his underwear. Loud bass echoed on in the distance, only the sound of the prince’s and your breath intermingling. Your thumb rubbed around the crown of his leaking dick.

“Pretty. Like you.”

Aegon urged, “C’mon.”

His brows were cutely pulled together, sweat beginning to bead on his temples.

You used your off hand to hike up the skin-tight dress. Aegon muttered under his breath, staring at the neon thong. His hands reached towards your pussy, you slapping them away to his chagrin. You slid the flimsy piece of underwear to the side, laughing breathlessly as you eased the blonde in. His lashes fluttered and throat bobbed— helpless to the feeling of it all.

You placed your hands on his broad shoulders, starting a rough pace on Aegon’s cock. His face fell forward, rapid breath hitting your shoulder. Aegon whined, “The fuck…are you doing to me?” All you could do was smile and pet his silver hair, taking your pleasure.

He filled you up perfectly, snug against your ridged insides. You cried out softly when Aegon finally jerked his hips up in sloppy, stilted movements. The Targaryen babbled, “Ah- ah- oh gods don’t stop! You’re so good!” His constant moaning was leaving a damp spot of drool on your dress, the man completely undone.

You clenched onto his throbbing cock, sighing sweetly as the feeling of fullness. He was leaking so much pre you felt even slicker than usual. Aegon rutted frantically into your molten pussy, gasping and whining with scrunched eyes. Taken by ecstasy, your fingers squeezed his mottled throat.

Aegon cried out in rapture as his entire body shook. He grabbed hard enough at your flesh to bruise, high keening sounds deafening your hearing. He spilled into your pussy with hot ropes of cum, violet eyes rolling into his skull. You cruelly laughed, riding Aegon through his orgasm.

You growled, “C’mon give me another— m’not done slut.”

He shook his head and whimpered, “No, I can’t, s’too much.” You knew there was the short period you could coax out a more intense secondary release. A trembling hand rubbed at your clit, simultaneously mocking Aegon for cumming so quick. He begged for mercy, sweaty locks bouncing as the prince’s head bobbed.

You grabbed onto the pale hair, giving him a vicious yank. A low groan ripped from your throat, a heated flush running up the length of your body. Your skin prickled at the feeling and more noises poured unbidden from your lips. Aegon cried again, “Ahhh- pleaseee- it hurts!”

You hissed, “You want me to stop then?”

He wailed in frustration, teeth baring in the dark of the room. Aegon mewled, “Nonono, keeep going, fuuUCK!” He writhed underneath your flexing thighs, cramping with the intensity. Aegon’s cock was brought back to hardness, throbbing inside your pulsing cunt. A pang of white hot ecstasy sent another clenching ripple through your soaked core.

Violet eyes poured tears down his blotchy cheeks, Aegon drooling from the overstimulation. He chanted your name like a prayer, sobbing between each pained cry. He trembled while you laved a pointed tongue over his rapidly aching bruises. Your breath hitched when Aegon’s cock started to nudge against your sweet spot.

“That’s it, you got it, fuck me one last time,” you urged.

“Oh my gods I’m gonna cum again,” Aegon blubbered.

Your thighs slapped against his lap in a lazier pattern now, slipping into that final stage. Aegon’s sniveling and carrying on was music to your ears. You threw your hair back, breath resorted to staccato pants. Yanking the bratty prince’s pale curls one last time you seized up with a long, lewd cry.

Aegon wheezed like he’d been punched in the gut— slowly realizing he was spilling again. He let out a confused sob as more cum filled your swollen cunt. You cooed, “That’s it prince, good boy, good little boy.” Fat tears leaked down your skin, Aegon’s chest shaking with sobs. You didn’t expect him to react so…passionately.

Using a gentle press of your palm, you tilted Aegon’s crumpled face up. He sucked in a wet breath, red-rimmed eyes peering up to your dark orbs. You complimented, “You’re so pretty when you cry.” Licking up a salty tear sent the point across, the prince rasping a small reply, “Thanks.” He nuzzled into your body like a lost puppy— seeking protection.

Sliding out of him caused a gush of slick and cum to leak, Aegon moaning softly at the feeling. He whimpered into your tits, “Don’ leave.” Smiling softly and curling a possessive hand around his waist you replied, “I won’t. Only if you give me your number, dragon prince.”

#hotd fanfic #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #dom reader #dornish!reader #sub!aegon #Lannisters and Martell’s alert #college!au #modern!au #hotd smut

309 notes · View notes