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girlwtdragontattoo · 2 months ago

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In your debt - Part 3

Young Halsin x Reader

Art belongs to @ozumii-fucking-wizard, I also used their Young Halsin headcanon list as a reference :) i love the idea of him being a bit hotheaded in his younger years hehe

Find Part 1 and Part 2 here.

Slow burn, sorry. But the next part will get spicy, I promise. >:D

Song in this fic:

Warning: Swearing

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You awoke on a huge matt, covered in a thick quilt. Your eyes adjusted to the dim light as you scanned your surroundings. You were staring at a large tent peak above you, which swayed sleepily in the wind. You turned your head slightly, examining the area further. Smoldering embers cracked softly in the middle of the room, with various tiny cushions placed around it. A kettle peeped, hovering above the low fire, green steam escaping its mouth. Adorning the tent were many little trinkets: dreamcatchers, windchimes, wooden toys and engraved clay pots decorated the walls and small shelves. The ground looked slightly sandy next to you, furthering the softness of your position. The matt was far too big for you, so was the quilt. You looked like a little mouse had sneaked into the cat’s bed.

You noticed a stinging sensation and remembered what happened with the goblin.

Your hands drifted under the covers to your pulsating side. A thick piece of rough fabric met your fingers and as you pawed along carefully, you realized it was bandaging. The pain was dull, but made its evil presence known.

That’s right. You were with Halsin. In his village.

You had no idea what else the dreamy druid had done while you were knocked out. You must’ve looked like a corpse.

You noticed you were wearing different clothes. This long sleeve tunic wasn’t yours and neither were the wide pants you spied while lifting the covers.

Had he…had he changed you? You blushed at the thought.

Had he seen you naked???

You attempted to sit up, quickly, which turned out to be a mistake. Deciding to prop yourself up carefully, you hovered over your unwounded side, relying on the strength of your arm. You eyed the large mug of water close to you, bringing it hastily to your dry lips.

It tasted so clean. You realized how gross the water really was back in the city.

You finished the water in a few gulps and placed the mug back where you found it.

Just then, your ears picked up a distant conversation. The voices were agitated. You weren’t able to get up and walk towards the entrance, so you strained your ears to listen carefully.

You recognized Halsin’s voice, who sounded exceedingly frustrated.

“So, your solution is just to ignore the looming threat? How on earth can you be so thick?”, he growled at an unknown male speaker.

“That is no tone to take with me, novice. You’re in no position to question my decision”, the other man answered, his tone so low it made the hairs on your arm stand up. Who was this?

You heard repetitive, thudding footsteps. It sounded like someone angrily pacing.

Halsin spoke again, his intonation louder than before: “If they tried once, they will do so again. And with more devastation. More goblins! They want our children for some sick game and you would rather do nothing!”

“The only person making that claim is lying halfdead in your tent. You do not know them. I do not know them! I will not send a group towards certain death because a stranger made a groggy statement!”, the other man met Halsin’s tone, with warning etched within.

You felt your stomach drop. The terrified faces the children had made while Izick was fighting you flashed before you. You knew you were telling the truth, but how could they know that?

“Uncle, they are the reason our children are safely returned to us!” There was a slight pause and you heard him step towards the tent, perhaps pointing. “If they hadn’t intervened, the drow-“

“Silence!”, the man Halsin addressed as uncle bellowed, the echo reverberating through the area.

“I do not care what could or would have happened. I care about the facts of the situation. It was YOUR task to watch over them. And YOU left Zacharia alone so that you could feel like a hero. Zacharia’s death and the possible fate of your brothers’ and sisters’ is on your conscien-“

A mighty roar interrupted the uncle’s chastising. A second followed with thundering thuds and tremors. Slicing through the chaos, you heard an assertive, older woman’s command:

“ENOUGH! Halsin, Dafydd. Stop this nonsense!”

The vibration in the soil ceased slowly, with one still insisting on remaining.

“Halsin…!”, she threatened.

You felt the shaking of the earth stop, finally but reluctantly. With vicious pants from both of the arguing parties, you heard the woman speak once again:

“Halsin, go check on your patient. And you, Dafydd, go do something you deem important. We do not have time for pointless squabbles like this.”

A pause and finally a few grunts of agreement. You heard footsteps leaving and two sets walking towards your tent.

Why were you panicking? It was ok for you to be awake, right?

You hastily pulled the covers over half your face as you lay down a bit too bluntly. You didn’t want them to know you were listening.

The tent flap slid open and you saw Halsin hold it open for the other person.

An older elf woman walked in, her long grey hair tied neatly in elaborate braids. She had exceedingly kind, hazel eyes that met yours with a soft twinkle. Her dark skin glistened with tiny drops of sweat. Her attire was rather casual, it looked like she spent a lot of time outside, judging by her sun kissed, wrinkly nose.

She smiled and you returned it carefully.

“Ah, so this is the savior”, her voice matched the one who had scolded the two men before. Halsin didn’t say anything, but grumpily stomped to the other side of the tent to grab a piece of wood. He started aggressively carving at it with a knife that looked too small for his hands.

The elf lady rolled her eyes and kneeled beside your head: “How are we feeling this morning, duckling?”

You cleared your throat, blinking a bit confused at the last word, but sat up slowly, while she helped you up: “Uh… I think… ok?”

Your words sounded unrecognizably hoarse.

The older elf conjured a gentle, yellow light from her palm and lay her hand on your shoulder. Closing her eyes, you felt a wonderous thrum from her touch.

“Mmh, yes. Healing slow but nicely”, she opened her eyes, winked at you and turned her head towards the tall druid, who was still chopping viciously at the tiny block of wood.

“Good thinking with the ginkgo leaves, son. Their organs are healing quickly”, she kept her gaze fixed on him. He met her eyes briefly, let out a rough “Hm” as a response and continued shaving.

You looked at Halsin, too. His furious aura engulfed the entire tent. His brows were frowning so intensely that you could barely see his calming eyes. This was his mother? They looked nothing alike. And she was so much older.

The woman turned back to you, deciding to ignore the brewing giant in the corner.

“I’m Anwen, elder druid of the High Forest. I assume you know who the sulking moose over there is”, she gestured vaguely at Halsin, who grunted and continued whittling more aggressively.

You nodded, trying to stop yourself from laughing. The hissy fit was a bit comical coming from such a large man, but you understood where the anger came from.

“Y/N…” you lay a hand on your chest, indicating yourself. “Thank you for … uh…” you were looking down at the clean garb you were wearing.

Halsin blushed excessively in the corner of your eye, turning to face the tent wall.

Anwen grinned: “Well, well, now I know where my sleepwear went.”

You stared at her anxiously.

“Oh, don’t worry. You need it more than I do right now”, she placated.

Your eyes wandered to the back of Halsin’s head. You could see the blushing had increased. So, he had changed you…

“Duckling, I am beyond thankful that you came to my children’s aid. They all won’t stop talking about you and your rescue. I’m sure they’d be happy to meet you properly, once your strength allows”, Anwen tugged at your cover, pulling it over you more and forcing you to lie back down.

You obliged.

“Halsin tells me you overheard something from the goblins. Something about the children…”, she patted the cover close to your chest.

You explained what you had heard before you intervened. Elder Anwen listened intently, nodding along as you described the attire the goblins were wearing to the best of your ability. She thanked you kindly and exited the tent, addressing Halsin to join her in prayer at sundown. This left you alone with the handsome druid.

He finally placed his craft on the sideboard next to his carving knife, leaning against the board and letting out a deep, irked sigh. You didn’t know what to say, so you just watched him.

The silence lingered between you for a bit, when he finally turned to you and tried to smile.

“Sorry. I’m glad you’re doing better.” He approached the side of your matt and squatted down. “I should change your bandage…”

You nodded after realizing you had been staring at him for too long and pushed the cover off your upper half. Hesitating slightly, you lifted the tunic to reveal your nursed belly.

Halsin sat down on the sand and started taking the binding off carefully. You let out small hisses, as he pulled the adhesive off your wound. You saw leaves sticking to the side of the band that lay directly on the most sensitive area. These were presumably the ginkgo leaves Anwen had mentioned before. He grabbed the teapot from the fireplace and filled a goblet with steaming, green water.

You beheld his work in silence, as he dabbed a soaking cloth on your abdomen. He conjured more healing magic with his hands, which hovered over your belly for some time. The comforting humming of his incantation joined the low purring of the fire. The dull light of the tent danced across his face, which seemed absent and deep in thought.

“Thank you for…all of this...”, you cut through the quiet, realizing you hadn’t really thanked him for saving your life.

Your words seemed to snap him out of something. He blinked hard and turned his head towards you, as his hand floated above your stomach.

His smile grew warmer and your heart skipped a secret beat: “You needn’t thank me. It’s the least I can do.”

He returned his attention back to nursing you. Watching him work, you felt a gnawing in your throat that you couldn’t ignore any longer.

“… are you alright?”, You had been wanting to ask about the conversation you overheard since he walked in.

Halsin hesitated for a moment, his eyes flitting from your face to his hands.

“It’s nothing you should concern yourself with. You’ve done more than enough,” he murmured.

You thought about the words the other man, Dafydd, had chastised the young druid with. Halsin seemed to be struggling with immense guilt and a need to correct it.

You accepted his unsatisfying answer and let your eyes wander around the tent, as you heard Halsin sigh once more. You didn’t know each other. Why would he share his woes with you? You were just a useless bard that happened to stumble into an unfortunate situation.

You spent the next few days in his tent, having Anwen and Halsin visit you every hour to bring food, drink and give you healing sessions. You were feeling better every day, the throbbing pain slowly dissipating from your lower body. It got to the point, where you even forgot you were hurt to begin with.

Anwen told you stories about Halsin, whom she adopted as a young boy. Most of the stories were quite embarrassing and you enjoyed learning about his mischievous nature. He carried himself with immense grace whenever he was around you, but you secretly knew he had a massive fear of moths and used to hide in baskets or pots to avoid druid training. He grew more relaxed each passing day, as well, showing off his collection of wood carvings you’d been eyeing in the corner of the tent, realizing you were someone easy to speak to.

You left the tent from time to time, as well, and were allowed to join in meals and share stories with the rest of the villagers. The village had been damaged by the attack, but not by too much. The druids seemed organized enough to fix things swiftly. Everyone treated you kindly.

The children were enthralled with you. They had carved a new, albeit extremely creaky and sad-looking, lute for you as a thank you, which you accepted with warmth surrounding your heart. Their eyes stared up at you, adoringly, as you haphazardly played on your gifted “instrument”, the notes plunking out strained and harsh. Gods, it was ugly. But you loved it anyway.

You learned Dafydd was the archdruid of the High Forest and Anwen’s brother. He was a lanky, older, but tall elf with the same eyes as Anwen, yet lacking her kindness. He had an intense authoritative energy and barely smiled, only nodding to greet you when you joined the circle. The only person he truly listened to was his sister and he was extremely harsh with the rest of the novice druids whom he trained, especially Halsin.

The children begged you to join them in their barn one night, where you learned Halsin slept while you occupied his tent. They dragged you to the heaps of straw, showing off their own attempts at carvings. You spied a larger wooden object hiding under a thin, massive blanket. That was most likely where Halsin slept, judging by the size of the bedroll. You decided not to pry.

The kids requested you sing them to sleep, as the orange sunrays drifted through the small cracks in the wooden walls. They were all snuggled together, glittering eyes blinking expectedly up at you, as you sat on a large bundle of hay.

How could you say no to them?

You started humming softly, watching them curl up closer to each other and stare at you with their little faces. You thought back to a gentle lullaby you had thought of, while you were wandering through a small village, which had a tradition of burning old keepsakes, in order to release them to the spirit world. You had been writing it below the Oaktree you always visited in the High Forest.

You didn’t need an instrument to keep the rhythm going, as the music flowed from your lips naturally:

I smelt smoke

On the wheezing of the wind when I awoke

A pyre of memory

Some fly-tipped treasury

Out there burning slow

Dark soaked fields

And the snuffling wet noses at my heels

Suddenly hackles raise

At the crackling of the blaze

Out there burning slow

And sometimes I catch him

With his axe in

The shadow

So secretive and private,

But I’m breathing in his life when

He’s out there burning slow

You repeated the lines a few times, until you noticed every chest of the children moving slowly up and down in a sweet cadence.

You heard someone behind you and turned to see Halsin leaning against the open door, the dark night behind him, his arms crossed:

“Beautiful tune. Been long since I’ve heard it.”

You blinked at him in stunned silence. He had heard it before?

He chuckled, noticing your confusion: “I told you Thaniel is fond of you. He likes to sing me your songs. The children do, too. Now I’ve had the pleasure of hearing it from the origin’s mouth, as intended.”

“Oh, wow… I didn’t know a forest spirit liked music…”, you pondered that thought, wondering what this Thaniel being was. If he had been listening all this time, where had he been hiding himself while you played on the riverbank?

Halsin joined you, sitting down on the hay ball. The might of his body made your side move up a bit, leaving your legs to dangle. He watched the children sleep, with a permanent smile on his face.

“Aren’t they precious?”, he cooed and you nodded with a silent chuckle, as one ork boy snored gently.

“Oh wait, one moment!”, Halsin stood up and tiptoed to the large bedroll, pulling the woodwork from under the draping.

He hid it behind his back, which worked amazingly, since he was so wide.

“Close your eyes,” he grinned.

You complied and waited with a secret shortness of breath. He had made something for you?

“Open,” he purred, sweetly.

As you opened your eyes, you were met with a beautifully crafted lute. The wood had been engraved with lovely vines and flowers.

Your mouth dropped open.

Halsin hurriedly sat beside you again, the hay ball raising you once again, as he handed you the intricately constructed instrument. The feel of the soft oak gave you goosebumps and the redness in your face was impossible to hide.

The strings were firm and carefully strung into place. You plucked a few softly. It sounded heavenly.

“This- what- how- why-…” you couldn’t string a coherent sentence together. Halsin chuckled.

“The children told me you sacrificed your lute to save them. The one they made for you is ...cute... , but I thought you needed a proper one.”

You gaped at him. You had never gotten such a thoughtful gift in your entire life.

You felt tears bite your eyes, but you blinked them away.

“Gods…thank you Halsin…I- I don’t know what to say. It’s marvelous!”

His smiled widened: “It’s the least I can do, I’m in your debt, remember?”

You smiled back, gazing at the artwork.

Moments passed as you both watched the sleeping children quietly. Your heart was still racing from the tremendous gesture.

You felt Halsin’s shoulders tense up as his face collapsed into the thoughtful one you first encountered in the tent.

You gulped inaudibly and decided maybe now he would be more open to talking to you. You had this urge to soothe him, especially after receiving the lute.

“Are you still bothered by what the Archdruid said?”, the words just spilled out of you. You realized it would indicate you had overheard the conversation and your throat closed up. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry…” your hands fidgeted around the lute as you nervously babbled on.

Halsin let out a brief gust of air between his nostrils. He nodded a bit, unbothered by your question.

“It’s just…”, he stopped himself. You saw his hands tremor slightly, “Dafydd is such a…such a…”

Your brows furrowed in concern.

Halsin took another deep breath, calming his slight shaking: “I didn’t abandon Zacharia. He told me to go and help. He told me he would take the children to the thicket and hide. I didn’t know those damned goblins were tailing us.” The words tumbled out of him with quiet agony staining his intonation.

You sat up a bit straighter, put the lute down on the ground and turned more towards him, unsure what else to contribute, but offering your ear.

Halsin balled a fist, as he watched one of the girls turn over in her sleep.

“Dafydd won’t go after that filth that tried to steal them. Says it’s pointless and risky and hotheaded. But what if they come back? Perhaps with an army of drow instead of stupid goblins. What if they get their hands on them and…” You heard his knuckles crack as he flexed his fist more.

He realized what he was doing with his hand and released his grip.

“I have to do something. I can’t just sit by and hope for the best.” His eyes scanned the barn floor, then finally met your worried gaze. The jade hue sparkled in the moonlight. You buried the thought about how handsome he was, while you focused on his problem.

You let his words swirl in your mind for a while. You never had any contact with Lolth sworn drows, just the kind ones that had escaped that fanaticism to Baldur’s Gate. At least you assumed they were Lolth sworn, you didn’t know of any other drow group that would do such a thing.

You agreed with Halsin. It was a terrible threat and a danger for the children to have the sheer possibility of another kidnapping exist.

“The thought haunts me, too. So, I understand how you feel”, your voice was almost a whisper, in fear of waking the sleeping souls, “It’s a huge risk to let them conspire in the dark.”

Halsin nodded. He leaned forward, holding his weight on his legs with his elbows.

He seemed to be at war with himself, unsure if he should tell you something. His eyes scanned you and you felt your body shake. A thought of what his lips tasted like invaded you, which you blinked away ashamedly.

Focus.

You attempted to hide your racy thoughts with a stupidly fake cough.

Halsin sat up again and bit his lip. Then he grabbed your hands and held them within his own. A brush of heat sizzled up your spine. He was so close to you.

“I’m going after them. I need a few nights to prepare, but then I’ll track those miscreants down. Frelma and Danan have agreed to come with me. Three is better than one. I have no idea if we’ll survive such an assault, but it’s better than sitting here and waiting for the next attack. We’re still concocting a plan. The drow are too dangerous to let live.”

His eyes bore into yours, a shred of relief after finally telling someone clouding them: “Please. Do not tell anyone, especially not Dafydd.”

You stared into his forest eyes, that quivered with anticipation at your response. You tried your absolute most not to lean in and clasp your lips in his, although every sinew within you yearned for it. Why was he so Gods-damn fine?

FOCUS.

“I’m coming with you.”

The phrase escaped from you. You couldn’t believe what you just said. Neither could the druid, who still held your hands gently.

He tilted his head, pacifyingly, his eyes softening sweetly: “You are braver than anyone I’ve ever met. But that would be quite foolish. No, you will stay here until you’re fully heale-.”

“I insist.”

OH MY GODS, SHUT UP.

Your insides were screaming at you, what the fuck were you thinking? What would you contribute? Battle music? You would only be in the way.

Halsin let out a soft laugh, lowering your hands but still holding onto them. He shook his head and gazed at you:

“You’re a fascinating person, truly. But I cannot allow you to-“

You released your hand from his grasp and held up a finger. An idea sparked within you. An extremely stupid idea.

“I know I can’t fight. But I can run.”

Halsin’s brow furrowed, waiting for an explanation.

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thebestofoneshots · 2 months ago

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.5 K Warnings: homophob*c slurs, homoph*bia. Prompt: If things cannot be changed, can the attention be diverted? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 64: Put Out the Fire

Remus’ hand, the one that had been holding you down seemed to loosen up slightly. You looked up, he seemed just as tense but you saw Sirius plop back down into the water and you couldn’t stay down there any longer, your need for air was almost overwhelming at that point, and while you had frantically looked for a wand in the pocket of both boys’ shirts that were still on the floor to try and use some kind of charm for breathing underwater, Remus’ wand had been on his sweater and Sirius’ on his robes, so instead you’d had to hold you breath.

You gasped for air and looked towards the now shut doors. The first thing you saw was Remus’ shocked gaze, you turned to Sirius, he had his head hidden in between his palms. You looked in between the two of them, you felt your feet trembling and your lips wanting to say something. You hadn’t seen what happened, but by Sirius’ quick standing up and tense muscles under the water, you were sure someone had seen them.

“Who?” You asked, voice raspy. The room was dеad silent, no sound other than the water still coming out of the taps and the soft echo of the small wave you’d created upon resurfacing. Both boys were almost frozen in place. Neither of them seemed ready to answer your question. “Who was it? At the door?” you pressed.

It took a whole moment for either boy to muster up the words. “Snape,” said Sirius almost in a whisper. Remus was still quiet.

“Severus Snape?” you asked, horrified. “How much did he–”

“Everything,” he interrupted. You felt as if you'd gotten a punch in the gut and all the air had been drawn out of your lounges –you knew exactly how that felt. “Except for you, he didn’t see you. Remus made sure.” You blinked a couple of times and let out a short breath, trying to deal with all the new information. “He called us sissys,” Sirius continued. You saw Remus flinch out of the corner of your eye.

“So he’s also homophobic,” you said in a scoff as if you weren’t surprised. “And he… just left?”

“He left when I pointed my wand at his ugly face,” Sirius said, there was a tinge of that very characteristic boastfulness of his laced in his words. “Right Moony?”

No response.

“Moony?” Sirius asked again, now focusing his gaze on him.

Remus was looking at Sirius but not entirely, it was as if his gaze was lost somewhere in the space he occupied. Sirius turned to you, questioning. Remus looked as if he had been petrified, though you could see the soft rise and fall of his chest.

“Remus,” you said, much softer than Sirius, but his gaze was still completely lost.

Sirius was about to shake him but you were fast enough to hold his hand before he got to touch him. He gave you a confused look and you nodded softly. You used your hold on his wrist to draw it closer to Remus in a much softer manner and guided it until he touched his cheek. You then placed your hand on top of Sirius’ –much like you’d done to Remus earlier– and guided his index just under Remus’ chin. As you suspected, his heartbeat was almost as fast as it had been earlier, but this time it wasn’t because of pleasure, Remus was terrified.

You threw another soft look at Sirius before pulling your other hand towards Remus’ unattended cheek. “Remus?” you called again.

“Moony?” Sirius said shortly after, imitating the softness of your tone. He caught on almost as fast as you on what Remus was experiencing. He’d experienced it himself more times than he’d like to admit.

“He knows,” Remus spoke finally. “He knows I’m a werewolf and he knows I’m queer.” You could tell how hard it had become for him to breathe. He was barely blinking as he said it.

“He can’t talk about the first one,” Sirius said softly.

You already knew about the incident. Severus had gotten charmed by Dumbuldore so he didn’t speak about Remus’ secret. You wondered if the spell had been ambiguous enough to also stop him from talking about this. It was highly unlikely, Dumbledore was a brilliant wizard, he wouldn’t leave space for loopholes.

Remus didn’t even have the energy to look at Sirius in the sarcastic way he’d want to. The one that made the obvious thing known: He could talk about the second one.

It was easy to guess what he was thinking. “It’s okay,” you said softly. “It’s okay,” you repeated reassuringly, much like he had done to you in the past. “We’ll figure something out.”

“We always figure something out,” Sirius said with a smile, and leaned closer to press a soft kiss to Moony’s temple. That seemed to somehow ease the other boy.

“That’s right,” you added softly and allowed your hand to glide down to his collarbone, squeezing the space between his shoulder and his neck reassuringly. “It may take us a while, but we’ll find a way. We already found our way to each other, whatever happens after won’t matter.”

“The pressure, it’ll…” Remus took in a shaky breath. “It’ll crush us,” he added apprehensively. “What if– If you can’t take that anymore,” he added as he looked at both you and Sirius.

The root of his fear wasn’t on people finding out, but rather it was on the two of you leaving him because of it. You shook your head and sighed once you figured it out. “Rem, we’ve all gone pretty much through hell before getting together. Sirius’s never cared about other people’s opinions and as long as I have the two of you, I won’t either. Shout it out loud to the entire school if you want, I’m yours, we’re yours, and nothing will change that.”

“She’s right Moons, if you think some Slytherin’s badmouthing us will make us step away from you then–”

“It’s not just the Slytherins,” Remus interrupted, insisting, anxious. “Our very friends could turn on us. You don’t know the kind of prejudice they have against queer people, against people in a menage a trois or whatever it is you call it. They will look at us and they will judge us wherever we go and–”

“Hey,” you said softly when you realised his words were taking over his thoughts. “Name one friend you think would leave us if they found out. I dare you.”

Remus seemed to think about it for a second, he opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t say a thing. “None of them would,” Sirius confirmed. “You know that, right?”

“What about my father?”

“You could always say you’re only half gay, you’re also dating a woman,” said Sirius nonchalantly and got a slap from your side.

“I’m sure Hope would help him understand if it ever gets big enough for him to hear about it,” you said with a smile. “Don’t worry so much, Rem. We are together in this, we’re not planning to leave you any time soon.”

“Yeah?” He said softly. Almost too quietly to be heard. As if he was scared you might go back on your words.

You smiled and leaned in to hug him, Sirius was shortly behind, the two of you embracing Remus tightly. Both boys were still quite shirtless, and you could feel their soft skin against your hands and face, it was reassuring in a way. Your cheeks pressed to the crook of his neck and Sirius pressed almost right behind you. It took him a few seconds, but eventually, he also closed his arms around Sirius, pushing you even closer to him, as if to make sure you were real, as if to make sure you were really there, hugging him, and telling him you’d be with him no matter what. Just months ago something like that would seem unimaginable, and here you were.

“I mean,” Sirius said. You could hear the teasing smile on his face even if you had your back turned on him. “Did you really think we’d ever want to stop after getting a taste of you?” He added before pressing a sonorous kiss on Remus’ cheek. The smack sound echoed through the entire place.

Remus was startled at first, growing almost red from the unexpected remark –and he was lucky Sirius didn’t lick his face as he initially intended– but then he chuckled light-heartedly. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his neck as well, much quieter than Sirius’ but loud enough for him to hear. “I mean, Sirius’ is right. How could we ever?”

Remus’ chuckles grew a little louder. And he tightened his grip around the two of you. A few minutes passed like that. After the heat of the moment and the cold bucket of water that Severus had thrown your way, it was a nice, simple, and incredibly reassuring embrace. “We should probably leave now,” he said while rubbing circles on Sirius’ back and pressing a short kiss to your hair.

“I don’t want to,” you said petulantly. The idea of leaving the warmth and comfort of them presenting itself almost as a nightmare.

“Severus might tell a teacher, and then we’ll really be in trouble.”

“Remus!” Sirius complained this time around. He was clearly much calmer now, impossibly delighted at having both his boyfriend and his girlfriend cling to him so fervently.

“You both know we should go, don’t make me the bad guy.”

You grumbled something as you pushed yourself off him, “Why did we say we wanted common sense in the relationship,” you sighed as you turned to Sirius.

“Because we’re both reckless and would probably end up in detention without Moony,” he reminded you.

“Well detention doesn’t sound so ba–”

“Bathroom cleaning.” Remus said without batting an eyelash.

You stood straight almost in an instant. “Remus is right, we need to leave this place,” you said as you leaned down and allowed your hand to dive down into the water to pick up their shirts, handing them over shortly after. You’d gotten it wrong and mismatched them to their owner, the boys smiled when they noticed, exchanging the wet clumps of fabric between each other as they looked at you stepping out of the water with clothes completely soaked but clean in comparison to earlier.

Neither boy said a thing, but the sight of your shirt and skirt clinging to your body due to the water tempted both of them to forgo common sense and just continue with what you’d started before Severus arrived. “What?” you asked as they stared.

“Nothing,” Sirius said, almost too quickly before busying himself with the damp cloth in his hand. Trying to expand it and put it on, even as it was wet. “How is it so much harder to put on a wet shirt than to remove it,” he mumbled as he struggled to find one of the arms.

“You’re not really meant to put on wet clothes, only to remove them,” Remus replied with a teasing smirk before also leaving the tub. He was dripping, the droplets of water disappearing into the charmed floor. It seemed like whatever water reached it would instantly dry, it’d been designed to avoid students tripping on wet surfaces; it was still fascinating to see the droplets almost disappear as if they had been swallowed by a sponge the moment they touched the ground.

His trousers were half on –since you’d managed to remove one of the buttons– and pulled down as he stepped out of the bath. Sirius hollered something about him having a “Great arse” and you tried not to laugh as Moony frowned, and pulled up the trousers as a blush suffused his face. Not that Sirius had actually seen anything other than his underwear.

You leaned back a little bit to look and nodded. “No, I mean he’s definitely right,” you said with a shrug. Which got an exasperated –and yet diverted– look from Moony. He shook his head as he pulled on his shirt, picked his jumper from the side of the tub and took his wand out from one of the sleeves, where it had previously gotten stuck.

“Little Witch, come over,” He said softly. You approached him without questions and he cast a simple spell over you, in a second your clothes were all dried up, they even looked ironed.

“That’s a neat trick,” you said as you adjusted the button and realised the small hole in the side of your skirt had also disappeared. You looked at it puzzled as you turned to Remus with amazement.

“It’s a repairing charm,” he responded with a shrug. “I begged Pomfrey to teach me how to do it. I’d lost a great deal of my clothes because of Moony.”

“You’re so brilliant!” you said as you took his hand in between your hands and pressed a fast kiss on his lips. He seemed rather content with your sudden show of love and appreciation. You’d called him brilliant before about a hundred times, but if from now on that praise also came with a kiss, then he’d have to be twice as brilliant as he’d been before.

By the time you left the bathroom, both boys had been dried with Remus’ spell, and you’d had to step out into the sea of toads on the outside hall. Upon little to no deliberation, the three of you decided that going to the courtyard and blending in with the rest of your friends would be your best alibi. Especially if you made a lot of noise and made it appear you’d been there a while. At least like that, you’d be able to diminish the credibility of whatever Severus decided to tell other people.

If you made the rest doubt that you’d ever been anywhere but in the courtyard, then the probability of having been in the Prefect’s bathroom would go down drastically. Hence, you sneaked through one of Hogwarts’ interminable secret passages and arrived at the courtyard not from the main entrance but rather from an underground passage that dropped you just outside of it.

You used the same technique you had used outside the great hall to climb up and the three of you blended with the crowd as if you’d been there all along.

“Hey,” you said as you approached your group of friends.

Mary was almost startled when she spotted you “Where were you?”

“We got ourselves cleaned after the mud incident, took a while to find you in the crowds.”

“If you had come with me instead of behind your boyfriends–” she stopped herself as if she realised she’d said something she shouldn’t have but added, “Your boyfriend’s beautiful hair then you wouldn’t have ruined your uniform.”

You pushed her with your shoulder playfully, not reproaching but rather diverted at how fast her stance had changed when she thought she’d said more than she should. It made you think of how and when you’d tell the rest of your friends about your relationship.

Which had some conflicted thoughts, part of you wanted to keep it a secret, just because of how exciting it was to have them for the two of you, while the other part wanted to tell every single person in the world about it, because dating Remus Lupin was something worth boasting about. Yes, it had been you and Sirius the ones who finally got one of the dreamiest boys at the entire school. However would you want to keep that a secret?

If only there were not such things as prejudices and so on, perhaps you might have made it obvious right there and then. But then again, you might have been the one in less trouble if word got out since you weren’t the one openly breaking the classic heterosexual relationships, the boys were. Not even Tom was openly gay, even if it wasn’t exactly a secret, it was more as if he belonged in a secret club, where only other members of the club and selected allies were admitted.

It was the only way to maintain everyone safe since you were sure the racism already existing in some places of the school wouldn't take too long to turn into homophobia. Yet another excuse to belittle people. After all, you had met Arkalis, and the way he’d implied things about Evan had been enough to tell you the position of the Pure Blood Community in regard to sexual preferences.

“What do you mean ‘her boyfriend’s beautiful hair?’” Asked James as he turned to Lily in an almost reproachful tone.

“Nobody can deny it, Sirius has the best hair,” said Marlene.

“Between who?” protested James. “The Marauders?”

“Probably the entire school,” answered Mary with a shrug.

James looked honestly offended by the entire ordeal, not because he didn’t think Sirius had amazing hair, but because Lily thought Sirius had amazing hair. Not that she didn’t have any right to think it, of course, she could think whatever she liked, but it didn’t stop the little discontent over it. “Well, I think Lily has the best hair.”

“Of course you do,” Everyone retorted, almost in a choir. James just frowned in return and placed his hand around Lily who rolled her eyes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, instantly making the frown disappear.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Severus walking past the entrance and towards a bunch of Slytherins on the other side of the courtyard. His robes were still filled with mud, and he was covered by what you recognized to be the slime on the library entrance. There was a choir of laughter among the students once a small Hufflepuff girl noticed him and pointed his demeanour at her friends who seemed genuinely diverted at the sight.

“That is enough, Miss Bingley, please,” McGonagall said in a rather stern voice.

“But Professor,” retorted another Hufflepuff that stood beside her. “He’s covered in troll snot!”

This caused yet another chorus of laughs, this time even the Slytherins were poking fun at Severus who had already turned crimson from anger, his face contorting into that of an angry ostrich. When he noticed your staring he gave you a disdainful face with an air of superiority. As if he knew something you didn’t and he knew that something had the power to destroy you. Severus had assumed Sirius was cheating on you with Remus Lupin, and he was already devising a plan to bring the three of you down. He had this unwavering idea that it was your fault he was miserable and that Lily had started dating Potter because you had prompted her to it. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that Potter had been chasing after her for years; only when you appeared in the school had she actually decided to give him a chance.

For all Severus cared, you and James had put a spell on Evans and that’s why she hung out with you so readily. After all, it had been after you arrived that she had started to throw those resentful looks his way. Almost as if she had started to hate him, which had never happened before. And it was in this madness that Severus was determined to destroy you. He didn’t give a damn if you recently lost your mother and friend, not even when he read on the papers that you’d run away from home; in fact, he’d even hoped you wouldn’t return at the beginning of the year. He was so upset and bitter over the way Lily was acting toward him that he blamed it all on you and couldn’t see past his pain.

It being your fault made sense, you were the perfect scapegoat, especially when he was not ready to admit it had been his attitude, and what he had called her that made Lily start being so wary of him.

Unbeknownst to all his plans, you held his gaze and smirked, leaning closer to Sirius. “You should have told me he looked so ridiculous,” you said with a laugh, that caused Sirius to also pay attention to Severus. There was a fire in the Slytherin’s eyes as his gaze crossed with Sirius’ unbothered and clearly diverted one.

“Severus Snape?” Sirius questioned. “Or should we say Severus Snail?”

Some other kid caught wind of what he said and repeated it a little louder, soon enough there was a choir of voices chanting “Severus Snail, Severus Snail!” while the rest laughed at the ridiculously fitting nickname for the boy covered in slime.

Severus puffed and blew, and looked more pissed than anything, his stupid proud smile erasing from his face as more and more voices joined the chanting. Neither you nor Sirius had joined, but both of you were laughing merrily. And as Sirius had placed his arm around you and had you lean closer to him, Severus thought he was the most disgusting man he had ever seen (after Potter). But he didn’t feel sorry for either of you, instead, he was ready to rip you to shreds.

“Enough!” repeated McGonagall, in a much more commanding tone than the one he had used the first time. “Mr Snape, please go to Mr Slughorn to see if he can help you out of your… predicament,” she added. “Everyone else, the classes are suspended for today. Food will be served on the lawn next to the black lake and you shall remain there until further notice, is that clear?”

There was a choir of excited “yes” coming from the crowds.

She sighed and then turned around, Professor Nightshade was by her side. She gave you a weary glance since she’d been trying to get a hold of you since you went back to school, but the situation at hand seemed a lot more relevant. The rest of the teachers, including Sprout, Flitwick and Spellman, leaned in to hear what McGonagall was telling them in a much softer tone. “I’ll talk to the house elves to devise a plan for the displacement of the Toads,” she said. “Unless anyone has any other ideas?”

The teachers disappeared into the roofed section of the courtyard and you turned to look at Lily with a proud smile, leaning onto her before whispering: “Told you you didn’t have to worry about the homework.”

Even with the thick snow outside, the students had all armed themselves with warming spells, there had been a few fires constructed near the lake and the elves were handing out hot chocolate with warming potions –courtesy of Slughorn– to everyone that required them. The prank had turned a boring first day of school into somewhat of a winter picnic or an exterior of a ski resort lounge party. The lake was frozen, the elves had gotten some skates and some students were skating about while others remained close to the fires while drinking their hot cocoas and roasting marshmallows.

Eventually, a Ravenclaw had the brilliant idea of also cooking food in the fire and with the help from the house elves got his hands on some raw meat in bruschetta sticks and with a spell had them float and spin around the fire as they cooked.

He taught some other students how to do it, and suddenly almost all the fires were not only for warming people but also a buffet of all types of roasted food and vegetables.

The day might have started with toads, but it ended in a winter festival!

It’s been a few hours since you’d gotten there with everyone and by then you were all just lounging on the snow, close enough to the fire to be warm, but not so much that the snow would melt underneath you. You had a bruschetta of roasted vegetables in your hand and were munching on some green stuff that tasted like zucchini but with spices.

“Well it turned out a lot better than I expected,” said James as he leaned back next to Sirius, you had been lying in between him and Remus, shoulders bumping into each other as you pulled food into your mouth. Remus would occasionally have some marshmallows float towards him and share them with you and Sirius.

“Yeah, we’d never had a prank ended in a party,” said Peter from the other side. He was drinking some hot chocolate and had about 5 marshmallows floating beside him, and another 5 -much smaller ones– inside his beverage. “They almost always end up in detention.”

“You think they’ll figure it was us?” asked Sirius thoughtfully.

“I don’t think they even know how it was done,” you retorted. “I mean there is no spell that gets so many toads in so many places at once.”

“I believe Flitwick and Spellman are trying to figure that out,” added Remus. “I saw them talking to some of the elves, and Nimbletwist said they had been tasked to revise the origin of the toads, but no one is sure where they came from.”

“Luckily the Swampbombs don’t leave any magic traces…”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Peter. “We thought stink pellets didn’t leave any traces after their dung was completely released and we got in detention anyway.”

“How did they figure out they had been yours?”

“The Slytherins threatened the Zonko shopkeeper to tell them who’d bought them,” he admitted. “Moral of the story– never buy pranks under your own name.”

You laughed at that and took another bite of your bruschetta, whatever you’d eaten was sweet and slightly condimented, you weren’t sure you’d eaten it before, but you certainly enjoyed the texture of it in your mouth, not to mention the taste was exquisite.

“Hey, wanna go skating?” Annie Doxon said as she approached Peter, you could tell he was trying to hide his smile and look cool about it when he got up as she extended her hand. You smiled as you saw the two of them towards the lake.

“And you, Étoile? Wanna skate?”

You hummed in return, you’d barely slept that night, and then you’d gotten a dеath scare at the bathrooms. It's not that you were sleepy, or that you wanted to sleep, but rather that you were much too tired to will yourself to stand anytime soon. Not to mention there was no place as comfortable as lying between the two of them. “Not right now,” you admitted. “But if you want to–”

“No, I’m good here too,” he added with a smile, leaning his head a little closer to yours. “Can I have some, Moons?” he asked Remus as he gave a bite to a marshmallow. Moony smirked and floated it towards Sirius who promptly gave it a bite of his own.

“This is really nice,” you said as you took another bite of your food.

“Not having class?” asked Sirius.

“The marshmallows?” quipped Remus.

“No, being with you,” you said, not realising how freaking sappy you’d sounded until it was too late.

“Is it?” Sirius said with a smirk as he turned to you with a teasing eyebrow and you groaned in return.

“Never mind, I take it back, I take it back,” you joked, it didn’t matter, Sirius had already thrown himself over your stomach, pushing you closer to Remus and looking up at you with a teasing smile.

“What about it is it that you like so much?”

“Oh, please!” you complained with a smile as you tried not to make it evident how flustered you’d gotten over your own stupidity.

“Come on, Étoile, dis-moi!”

“Non, non je t'en prie.”

“I’d certainly like to hear it too,” Remus said as he leaned on his elbows to be able to look at the two of you better. It was like the entire world around the three had faded, leaving only you and nothing else. “What is it, Little Witch?”

“You just like torturing me, don’t you?” you said, playing offended.

“Perhaps we do,” Sirius responded as he looked at Remus with a rather complicit smile.

“It’s just that you look exceptionally cute when you’re flustered,” Remus said, much quieter, in case someone was listening to the three. You covered your face with your hands but both of them were quick and moved them out of the way, looking at you with infuriatingly teasing smiles.

You frowned and pouted and the two boys blurted out laughing. Perhaps if Severus had seen the entire thing happen he would have realised he’d gotten it all wrong, and that his plans to torment you would dissolve in water like an effervescent tablet.

You were shaking your head as the boys continued to laugh their heads off when you heard a rather big explosion. The entire place went quiet, and people turned to look towards the castle. It couldn’t have been the prank, there was nothing in the swampbombs akin to an actual bomb.

“What–”

“My god,” you heard a Hufflepuff girl –Alice Becket– say as she looked towards her window. You gave Remus a look since they had been a thing and he just shrugged in return. “I left my fireworm in the dorm room, if toads got in…”

Suddenly there was another explosion, this time it was louder.

“Alice!” Michael, another Hufflepuff, screamed. “Did you also take Puxie out of her cage?”

“She looked constrained,” Alice said with a miserable-looking expression.

And then there was another boom. Imogen, who at some point had sat beside Remus winced. “And… that must have been Tony.”

“Your fireworm?” you asked as you turned to her. She nodded in return.

“Alice, may I have a word with you?” Said Professor Spellman with a rather stern look. “Care to explain the explosions in the common room?”

“It’s the fireworms, Sir. I think they might have encountered the Toads…” she said and then she looked down, shaking her head. “Poor Drewie…”

“And why, pray tell, did a bunch of Hufflepuffs keep fireworms in their dorm rooms?” He said, voice booming and turning to look at Nightshade. She shrugged in response, even if she was head of the house, she had no idea.

“Homework,” said Imogen.

“Hufflepuffs are not the only ones with fireworms either,” said a Ravenclaw as there was another loud boom and smoke started to come out of their tower.

“By Rowena!” said Spellman as he heard another boom.

“Where do you keep yours?” You asked, turning to Sirius.

“Peter is taking care of them, I think he left them with Hagrid or something,” he said with a shrug, not preoccupied at all. So far there had been no explosions on the Gryffindor tower or near the dungeons (that you’d heard) and after a few other booms, the novelty of the incident died and some of the students on other years –everyone that did not own a fireworm– went back to the things they’d been doing before hand.

“I’m so going to fail,” said Michael as he pulled on his hair and shook his head in disbelief. “All we had to do was keep them alive.”

“Loser!” Said Snape as he stared at the smoke.

“Say that again, Severus Snail!” jeered Michael as he turned around, clearly pissed at his comment.

“That’s enough,” Spellman commanded, but neither cared to listen.

“Call me that again and see what else blows up.��

“Your face will,” retorted Michael, as he pulled out his wand and pointed it towards Severus.

Nightshade had slowly walked right in front of the boy, and in a much calmer, and yet somehow equally threatening voice said, “Michael Stradlater!”

He looked at Snape, clenching his jaw and wand still high up in the air. Severus stared at him angrily as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes and then focused back on him. He took a deep breath and slowly pulled his wand down. “He started, Miss!”

“Not my fault he can’t keep his fireworms alive,” Severus insisted, he was in a terrible mood, and being called Severus Snail only made it worse. On the other hand, Michael was devastated over his worm, not because he was overly attached to it, but because he was failing Care of Magical Creatures and needed the extra points keeping him alive would have bought. He aimed his wand against Severus again.

“Michael,” Seraphina said again, it was rather impassive. Voice soft, but a clear warning regardless. The boy didn’t relent this time.

You looked at Remus and smiled, he knew you were up to something even before he brought your hand to your mouth and pulled on the fingers of your glove with a bite and removed it, digging your hand in the snow.

“Professor, I’m really sorry but I cannot–” A snowball surged through the air and fell right on Severus’ face. Michael looked at the scene completely shocked before he allowed his wand to fall back down as he bent over with laughter.

“Who the hell–” Severus started, but then another snowball flew through the air and fell on the side of Michael’s head, which got Severus to scoff. Remus was not wearing his gloves at this point either. “Is this funny to you?” Severus asked as he looked around annoyed.

“Plenty,” said Evan as he threw a snowball straight at his face.

Severus seemed even more offended that his housemate had thrown a snowball at his face than anything, but then a rouge snowball from Sirius fell on a random student and since he thought it had been someone else, he retaliated towards Imogen and Alice, who of course wouldn’t stay with their arms closed.

Less than 10 snowballs later, a fight had ensued. There were snowballs falling on the fires and on the food, and even the students who had been trying to read a book, or work on homework (which of course there were some) had now joined. Remus and Sirius and you had started out as a team, until Sirius accidentally threw a snowball at Remus and he retaliated with one towards him that ended up falling on your arm.

Eventually, Sirius was focusing solely on Remus and Remus on Sirius and you decided to pull back a little since you had already gotten like 10 balls clash onto you in the crossfire. It was as you stood close to the lake, using a spell to make about 20 snowballs at once, that someone with a disillusionment charm passed through and pulled you back behind some old stone walls that you assumed had been some ancient building that the school hadn’t cared much about maintaining.

“Hey Reg,” you said when you noticed it was him.

He smiled, pulled his head up to make sure no one had spotted him dragging you there and turned back. “How’d you know it was me?”.

“All my other friends with mad disillusionment skills are in the middle of a snowfight.”

“Could have been an enemy,” he said in a rather serious tone –you did notice the irony of that thought.

“An enemy wouldn’t have pulled me anywhere nearly as gently as you did.” You shrugged.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, casting a spell around the two of you so you were both now invisible, but somehow he’d managed to make himself visible to you and vice versa.

“You have to teach me that trick.”

“So you fill the school up with more toads?”

You gasped in surprise. “What makes you assume it was me?”

“You weren’t at the Great Hall when chaos ensued, as if you knew it was going to happen.”

“You were looking for me?” you asked tilting your head to the side with a teasing smile. But Reggie’s face made you realise he was not in the same spirits as you were. “What?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“That does not sound like good news whatsoever,” you said, somehow still half-jokingly but with an almost strained tone, as you didn’t want to hear what would happen next.

Regulus took a deep breath and then turned back to you. “After the Christmas party… they thought I’d helped you.”

“But you tried to stop me!”

“They didn’t believe you knocked me out just like that… Evan and Crouch were also on the line.”

“But the wand I gave Barty–”

“It didn’t matter,” he said. “Arkalis for some reason thought Evan would protect you… Of all people, can you believe that?”

You tilted your head to the side and let out a low “hmmm”.

“Wait, you can?”

“It’s a long story. But Arkalis believes I hooked up with him.”

“With Evan?” asked Regulus. He might have not been in the class but he very well knew about the animosity you had towards each other, and he also knew about him and Barty.

“It’s a long story,” you repeated.

Regulus shook his head and sighed before he spoke again. “Anyway, we had to convince them that we all hate your guts.”

“Couldn’t have been hard for those two,” you joked, but Reggie didn’t seem to loosen up after that either, he was tense still.

“How are you?” He changed the subject. You were about to say you were fine but he didn’t let you speak. “Really.”

You swallowed.

“I see you’ve been using her wand.”

You stopped breathing for a moment, not knowing exactly how to respond to that. “Better than I was then,” you said honestly. “I’ve… so much has happened since. It’s been crazy but the boys have been there for me, through and through. You?”

He smiled when he heard you. He could tell you weren’t lying. “We convinced them we never helped you.”

There was an apprehensive way in the way he said it as if he’d had to do something awful to achieve it. “What did they–” Your words got caught in your throat as he rolled back his sleeve.

His pale arm had been tainted, marred with a symbol that it took you no more than a second to recognise. A snake with a skull on top, exactly like the one you had seen up in the sky when he persuaded you to stay outside. For a second you wondered if your mother would still be alive had you actually listened to him. It was a terribly destructive thought that you knew you shouldn’t allow to roam in your mind for too long unless you wanted to be back where you’d been before the mirror.

You took it in your hands and pulled it towards you. “Reggie,” you said, afflicted as you looked at his arm. “Did it– Did it hurt?” He stayed quiet, clenching his jaw, which was enough for you to know it had.

“He can call us whenever he wants now. That hurts more.”

“Can’t we remove it?”

“I don’t think it’s possible, dark magic is involved. Like a curse.”

“All courses can be broken,” you said with determination. “Sirius is way better at that than me thought, perhaps we can talk to him and–”

“No!” he let out in a rush.

“No?”

“Sirius’ animosity towards me was one of the things that convinced them that I wasn’t on your side. Evan also used Sirius as his excuse to not helping you. And while we’re supposed to pretend to be friends with you at school, it’s only to keep an eye, and make sure you don’t interfere again, if not…”

“I get it,” you interrupted, not wanting him to say the words that both of you knew would follow. “But, your brother he, you won’t be able to make up with him. I know he’d like to have his little brother back, Reggie. He misses you.”

“Very peculiar way he’s got to show it,” he responded sarcastically, in a way that was incredibly reminiscent of Sirius himself.

“You’re no better than him.”

“Well, he shows you he loves you.”

“He’s still angry about the stuff that happened that summer,” you explained. “But he misses you still.”

“He has James.”

You sighed, you weren’t sure how to respond to that. “He needs to think you’re on their side?”

“There’s nothing more convincing than his scorn,” he said coldly, you could see it hurt him either way.

“And I? Must I pretend to hate you too?”

“No,” he said as he shook his head. “We’re meant to keep an eye on you, remember?”

“So I shouldn’t be surprised if I end up with Slytherin satellites?”

“I doubt anyone will take it seriously. Except perhaps Mulociber and Severus since–”

“They too?” you asked in shock. Both of them already hated your guts. Perhaps as much as Barty and Evan had before Christmas.

“More than me, Evan and Crouch, even. Since they got in themselves, not through their family connections.”

“Shit.” You said as you thought to the fact that Severus had seen Remus and Sirius in the bathroom. Would he be scared enough just with Sirius’ threats to leave that fact alone? Would he go running to inform Orion? Did he even have a way to contact Orion? What would the Blacks do if they found out?

“Yeah,” he agreed. He wanted to ask you how you were coping. Especially about your mother, she’d seen how much closer you were to her than to your father, and while he would have been almost pleased to have Walburga out of the way, the way in which you had defended Avis was enough for him to know it wasn’t like that for you at all. “I’m sorry about… everything that happened on Christmas.”

“I’m sorry about this,” you said as you placed your hand over his arm again, rubbing your thumb over the mark, as if that would wipe it from his arm. “And everything they made you do after Christmas.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the nicest thing to bond over your sorrows, but at least, Regulus had someone he could talk to. You had always had James and Lily and all your other friends to bond with, but Reggie could not talk about any of the things he thought with almost any of the Slytherins. He could trust no one, he didn’t want to risk it.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said as he looked at the mark. “I’m on your side. I’ll always be on your side.”

You knew he meant it. From day one, even if reluctantly, Regulus had been on your side. And something deep inside told you that he would be till the day he died. And while it was reassuring to know that you had friends who would stand by you no matter what, you had also seen first-hand what standing by you no matter what could do to them.

“Stay safe,” you retorted. “Don’t put yourself in harm’s way for my sake.”

“Would you even listen if I asked that of you?” he said with a small, almost teasing-like smirk that reminded you just how much of Sirius’ little brother he was. Sometimes even the way he walked was so reminiscent of Sirius that you had –upon seeing him by the corner of your eye– thought it was him.

“Do as I say, not as I do!” you retorted with a smile as well. Reggie was bringing down his shirt sleeve and buttoning it as neatly as if it had never been pulled up.

“Hypocrite.”

“I’m older, I get to be one,” you added teasingly, he actually smiled after that, it was a genuine smile. Almost a twin to Sirius’ except his was a little brighter. You wondered if someone would ever make Reggie smile like his brother, you hoped there would.

“You really should have been a Slytherin.”

“Don’t go around saying that, you might get beaten up by James,” you smiled. And pulled your wand out of your pocket before smiling and passing it over to him, he looked at you with narrowed eyes. And then you smiled. “Careful, you’ll get cold.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

You smiled and pushed him gently so that he wasn’t covered by the rocks anymore. “Hey!” you said in a voice that didn’t quite sound like you. “Regulus is hiding over there!”

Regulus gasped and then turned to you with a shocked smile. Now that was the kind of smile you were looking for. “You traitor,” he mouthed as several snowballs crashed against him. Three on his arm, one on his face that made snow splatter and colour a good deal of his hair white, and then one on the side of his leg.

You winked and picked up a ball yourself, throwing it towards him. “Go on seeker, let’s see if you’re as good at avoiding small balls as you are chasing them!”

He smiled and shook his head, rolling down on the snow and picking a ball before throwing it straight at your face, even if you were still invisible.

“You were saying?” he asked with a smile.

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asumofwords · 1 year ago

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Lighthouse - Sailor!Aemond x LighthouseKeeper!Reader - Mini Series

Summary: You work as a lone Lighthouse keeper on a small island just off the coast. Everyday was the same routine, tending to your duties and the lamp with not much time to spare. But what will happen to your routine when a storm rages across the sea, and a handsome man washes ashore?

Warnings: This fic is 18+. Readers discretion is advised. Warnings will be added in their relevance. She/Her Pronouns. Slow burn, pining, kiss, fingering, smut, loss of virginity, creampie, longing, dirty talk.

Note: Hello my angels! First of all, thank you all so much for being so patient for this chapter, I know it came out later than it usually does and mummy has been starving you all, but life has been a bitch but here we are! I really hope that you enjoy this, and hope that all is well in your lives. Take care of yourselves <3 Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Prayers, Whiskey and Peaks

Aemond stayed true to his word. His desire to assist you with anything he could began the next morning when he woke, eager to please and already on his feet before you were.

He woke you from the couch as he passed to fill your kettle with water, using the pump in the kitchen, toned arms gripping the handle, before lighting the stove with the embers from the fire.

Neither one of you mentioned your heated kiss, nor your silent confession, nor his pleading request. It was as if the night had never happened, the peak of your resistance breaking and the pull to him having been a mere passing thought. His attitude, however, immediately changed towards you, his teasing and smug responses became less, and he himself, became more patient, tender, and curious.

But a small part of yourself missed the cheeky disposition that he once had, and you pondered for the days that passed if his sudden change was at all due to his discovery of your ‘condition’, so to speak. Yet this discovery did not stop his physical attentions, in fact, it seemed to exacerbate them.

Unbeknownst to himself, or not, he seemed to gravitate towards you. Lingering touches of hands when passing him food, or lamp, or oil. The brushing of shoulders against your own, or even the way he would stand behind you, the heat of his body radiating into your back as you taught him all you knew about tending to the lighthouse, just as your father had.

And not once, to your pleasant surprise, did you shy away from his sudden interests, or his new found fondness for learning all that you knew. For him to be involved in your teachings, your passions, and your excitement when he would ask questions that you thought he never would, brought warmth to your chest that you had not once felt before.

You were excited to teach someone about your duties, excited to have someone listen intently, and for a moment you thought if this was how your father had felt when he had taught these thing to you. Or perhaps, when his father before him had passed down the metaphorical and physical torch to him.

Though, it was not without its obstacles. For each time he passed, body brushing behind yours, each time you felt the heated gaze of his eye roaming your body or face, each time his fingers would linger when passing food, or water, or supplies to tend the lamp, your heart would race as though trying to bolt from between your ribs, and your blood would burn hotly, heat rising in your cheeks, and a more familiar, though only to yourself, warmth would settle in your gut.

It did not help, that each time you spoke, or laughed, or managed to pull some sort of smile from his pouting lips, his eye would drop to yours, gazing at you with a longing that you had only just realised you had felt for far longer.

A longing to be held, and touched, and caressed, and what was more, loved.

But he was to leave, eventually. And you would be alone once more. And that thought on its own pulled painfully at your chest, and on occasion, when in the privacy of the lighthouse, or tending to your garden, tears would prickle in the corners of your eyes.

On that day, a sudden and most flighty disposition possessed you, and upon Aemond letting his signature smirk pull at his lips, you had jumped from the lounge and began a tumble of thoughts that continued to fall from your mouth. He had not been unkind as you rambled, and had instead, been very patient.

“The storm has passed now.” You had moved away, wringing your hands together, “And you are well enough to travel. I am sure your family would be eager to know of your survival and safety.”

His lone eye had slightly widened at you, and you avoided his gaze, suddenly feeling a sinking pit in your gut, “I am sure that the swell and tide should be calm enough for me to take you back to shore.” You did not wait for his response, instead turning immediately on your heel to leave the cottage.

Aemond called out your name, following after you in confusion as you marched towards the side of the lighthouse where your row boat was docked.

“Y/n, wait, please.” He called to you, but you would not face him, you would not allow yourself the embarrassment and shame of having developed any sort of feeling for the man, nor acknowledging that you did not want him to go.

But he had to.

It was only logical.

And it would happen.

And you would be alone again.

“What are you doing?” He huffed from behind, his voice further away than yours.

Though he had recovered remarkably quickly, his lungs still seemed to take trouble with strenuous use, and occasionally still coughed and rasped when he tried to match your racing steps.

Without turning back to look at him, you called out into the open sea, hoping the winds that pulled would take your voice away with them.

“Getting the boat ready. I’ll collect all that I need and then we can pack you a bag full of my fathers belongings and take you to shore." The words bitter on your tongue, "We can send word from there, and William would let you take lodge in his home until you can sail back to your family.” You hoped that he didn't hear the way your voice cracked at the mention of him sailing home.

You could feel heat on the back of your head from where he was staring, but he made no move to respond, and if you had dared to look back, you would have witnessed his steps falter, and his face fall.

But you hadn’t, so you didn’t.

Anxiety rocked through you, “It is no bother, truly.” You tried to reassure yourself more than him, “William would be gladdened to help, and I am sure I could ask a friend to let you take voyage on his ship to the nearest post.”

A friend.

Could you ask Dalton to help him? To take him somewhere closer to Aemond’s home?

You supposed you would have to try, and you also surmounted that it would likely come at a price, and one that would not be coins.

This however, made your stomach pull, and not in the way that it used to, for now the thought of lying in bed with Dalton put an uncomfortable ache in your gut.

“If I am to be more burden to you, Miss," His voice was sharp, deep, and you could tell that he was upset in some capacity, "Then I shall take my leave.”

You didn't dare turn to face him, to see the way his lips pulled down into a sneer, instead focusing on how you finally came to the lighthouse, stepping down the few stone steps by the water to your makeshift dock. But instead of finding your small rowboat, all that could be seen was the sunken hull beneath the waves.

“Gods be damned!” You swore, looking down into the water at your sunken boat. You had been so distracted by Aemond being washed ashore, you had not even thought to take the boat up from the raging swell.

The wooden row boat that was your fathers before you, had smashed itself to pieces as it was rocked by the waves into the cliffs face.

“What is it?” Aemond rushed to you in concern, breath wheezing slightly as he looked down to where you were gazing.

“The storm sunk my boat!” Your hands flew up into the air, “What have I done to deserve this, Gods? Have I not been faithful to you all?” Your hands gripped at your hair and tugged, pain pulling at your scalp, “I even prayed! Prayed to you. Nursed him to health, and this is how you repay me? You are mocking at me!” You spun away from Aemond, leaving him down on the steps to look at the sunken boat that had been your plan to leave the island, cursing the Gods as you moved.

You did not see as you mumbled and bitterly spat, trudging back to the cottage, focus solely on making your way back inside to drink from the whiskey you had been saving, that Aemond had smiled down at the ruins of your little boat. Not only had he smiled, he had whispered thanks to the Gods.

Aemond did not want to leave.

And the Gods had heard his prayers.

You stomped back to your cottage, tears prickling in your eyes as your chest ached. That boat had been your fathers, and it would cost money you didn’t have to acquire a new one, or even attempt to fix the old. You were now, truly, stuck on the island, with no way to escape the man unless you sent word to William, who you doubted would come right away, and would only come when scheduled, as he himself had a job and duty to his family.

What was more, your forced proximity to the man, who your heart had begun to grow affections for, was now inescapable, and you felt, and then denied, that that was the true reason for your disconcert. You knew, deep down you knew, that this now was going to develop into something. That now that the both of you would be stuck for at least another week, and it would all come to a head.

The door to the cottage slammed open, the sun outside eventually moving to set as you rifled amongst your things for the whiskey you had hidden.

You needed a drink, you needed an escape, because a physical one you could not attain, so at least the sweet and familiar burn of whiskey and the numbness that followed could help in some capacity.

You sat yourself down at the table, all but slamming the bottle and glass to go with it on its surface, eyes boring into the flames of the fireplace as you sat numbly, trying to suppress every ounce of emotion that you felt. You ripped the cork out of the bottle and filled yourself a generous pour, bringing the drink to your lips as you continued to stare blankly at the fire, one lone tear falling down your cheek.

The first bit of the whiskey burnt, and you hissed slightly as you swallowed it. But then came the warmth and the sweetness of the alcohol that William had promised when he gave it to you. You sat for what felt like hours, and most likely was, nursing that one glass, and then another, as you stared into the fire.

Aemond had not returned back to the cottage yet, and you thought that perhaps he was horrified at the thought of being stuck with you for longer, too embarrassed to come back to you and show you his disdain, and due to his upbringing, likely being a gentleman, allowing you to have your ‘womanly hysterics’ alone.

When the cottage door finally did open, you hadn’t turned to face him, and only brought the whiskey up to your lips to prevent yourself from asking him where he had been.

It was no matter to you. He would leave soon and you would be alone.

That was what you told yourself weakly.

“The lamp is lit,” Came his smooth timbre from behind you, “You needn't worry about lighting it tonight.”

You blinked.

He lit the lamp for you?

“Thank you.” You breathed quietly, not tearing your eyes from the fire as it devoured the logs you put inside.

His footsteps thumped towards you before stopping and turning back to the kitchen, where the scrape of glass was heard, and Aemond came back, seating himself on the opposite side of the table to you, placing his own glass in front of him.

He didn’t ask as he swiped up your bottle of whiskey, pouring himself a finger of the amber drink.

The silver haired man sat in your periphery, bringing up the glass to his lips before he sipped silently on it. He did not hiss as you did, but instead hummed appreciatively.

“This is a fine whiskey.” He commented, swirling the drink in his glass.

You nodded, finally tearing your eyes from the fire to look down at your own glass, bringing it up to your lips, enjoying the heat that it paved as you swallowed, “A gift from William. Locally made by a man named Balon. Quiet man. Knows his whiskey.”

Another hum.

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the sound of calmer waves outside and the crackling of fire, and the occasional thump of either of your glasses touching the table after having made their journey to your lips. And then in that comfortable quiet, Aemond having reached to refill his glass, and you having done the same, he finally broke it.

“I never thought I would be stranded so far from home.” Aemond began, long fingers tapping gently on the table to get your attention. It was only then did you look at him, meeting his lilac gaze, “In all my years of life, not once have I seen a storm as violent as she.”

You swallowed thickly, “Nor I. It felt as though my little island would have been swallowed whole.”

Silver hair fell forward over his shoulder as he ducked his head, “That is what happened to Vhagar.” He solemnly smiled, “Oldest ship in my family, passed down generations. The largest on the known seas.” He paused, tapping his finger against the glass, “Or was. My ancestors have sailed her for hundreds of years. Could fit a crew of over a hundred men. She has seen war and battle, and won them all. But Vhagar was no match for the Lady Mistress Sea.” He took a large gulp of his whiskey, “A wave four times the height of your lighthouse came crashing down upon us.” Another sip, long finger tapping anxiously against the glass again, “I do not remember a thing but waking to your voice, to seeing your face above mine.” Your heart clenched with pain for him, for the anguish he must have endured, to losing his ship, his crew.

Everything.

“I am so sorry. I cannot imagine what it must be like.”

Aemond shook his head, “No need for your apologies. You have been a generous host, and the saviour of my life.”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you nibbled lightly at your lip, fingers pressing into your glass of whiskey, “Did you know where you were?”

A nod, “Aye. We had set sail for the North, past the Iron Islands. I wished to see more of the world we live in, but the world did not wish the same for me.”

You frowned, “Where is your home?”

“A long way aways.” Aemond finished his glass of whiskey reaching to refill it, the sound of it being filled loud between you, “My mother is not fond of sailing, in fact, she begged me not to go. Perhaps I should have listened.”

“All mothers worry for their children.” You offered a shy smile.

“Hm.”

You fiddled with the glass in your hands, feeling the warmth of his gaze on your face as you looked away, “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“Aye.”

No elaboration.

“Do you miss them?”

Silence.

You met his gaze again, watching as his eye searched yours for answers. You couldn’t help but notice the way he sat again, rod straight, arm and hand politely on the table, and with this observation, you could not help but voice it out loud.

“You’re a Lord.”

Aemond blinked, seemingly caught off guard by your words, before finally he nodded.

You suddenly felt more self conscious than before. Here was a Lord in your less than modest home, drinking from aged cups and sitting on older chairs. He must look at you with distaste at times, and with this observation came the ache in your chest that he would never be interested in someone like you.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you plastered a small and fake smile onto your lips, “And what family does the Lord of Vhagar descend from?”

You watched as Aemond pushed his tongue into his cheek, suppressing the smirk that threatened to break on his face at your comment. It made your stomach erupt with butterflies.

“Targaryen.”

You blanched.

Targaryen.

That was the people William had told you about.

They were Kings. They were-

“You’re royalty.” You blurted, heat rising in your cheeks again at your embarrassment.

The silver haired Lord’s jaw clenched as he looked at you, before nodding again, softer this time, as though he was uninterested in the title in that moment.

You immediately bowed your head, wringing your fingers together nervously on the table, “My apologies, your grace, if I have been anything but untoward. My home is humble and small, and I am afraid I have not much to give or show for it. If you-“

“-Y/n.”

Your ramble was interrupted, and warmth engulfed one of your hands. You blinked down at the large pale fingers that were clutching your own.

“Please do not treat me differently now." He begged softly, "You have been nothing but wonderful to me, and far more gracious than any Lord or Lady I have met.”

You swallowed thickly before nodding, shifting in your seat, but Aemond refused to let go of your hand, instead keeping it held in his atop the table, a lone thumb brushing over your knuckles softly as you struggled to calm your racing heart.

"Do you miss them?"

Your question must have come as a surprise, for his thumb stilled against your hand.

"At times." His answer was barely a whisper, "I miss my sister. My mother. That is all."

"I am sure they miss you very much. I am almost certain they are worried for you." Your words tumbled out quickly, unable to stop, "They will be gladdened to have you home, hale and healthy soon. I know that your siblings and mother will weep with joy." You smiled, but it felt strained, his face entirely blank as he watched you, "Your father must be sending men to look for you."

"My father dead."

Your lips parted.

Fuck.

"I am so sorry. I did-"

"-Do not be. I hated the man."

If your mouth fall any wider, you'd swallow the table whole.

"Oh." You swallowed dryly, "Well then, I am sure your family-"

"-They do not care for me and what I do," He spat, anger simmering beneath the surface, "I can assure you of this. My own nephew took my eye." His hand lifted lazily to point at the long scar upon his face, clouded eye nestled within.

Your heart sunk.

His own nephew had done that? Had they fought? Was it an accident? A myriad of questions popped into your mind about this man and his family.

No wonder he was in no rush to get home.

You flipped your hand to grip his tighter, his gaze falling to your joined fingers momentarily before he looked out the window to the lighthouse. You followed his gaze, watching as the lamp illuminated out to sea, the darkness of night having fallen across the horizon.

And then he continued, "They only care that I fulfil my duties to society, and marry whom they think is most advantageous."

Oh.

He was to be married.

Your heart felt like it stopped beating, but his fingers rubbed against your hand softly, almost out of habit if it could be one, and so you decided to swallow the sadness that suddenly filled you, and move the converasation away from his family.

In an attempt to dissolve the sudden tension, you pulled your hand from his, noting the way his lips twitched at your absence, but you moved swiftly, filling his glass generously once more and yours again.

“I am gladdened for your company these past days,” You began quietly, “And more gladdened that you will not be dying any day soon.” You watched Aemond lift his drink to his lips, and felt a sudden wave of confidence come over you, and so you continued, “Otherwise if you died, it would be a waste of good whiskey.”

Away the glass was pulled from his lips, and behind it, a full smile, teeth and all. Your heart fluttered in your chest at the sight. His full lips pulling into a sharp yet lovely grin, crooked white teeth nestled within on display, and the slightest of rosiness to his cheeks. You felt triumphant, and even more so when a soft chuckle came from his chest.

Gods, I am sorry for cursing you before. Thank you for this gift.

The night continued on, your eyes casting occasionally out the window to look at the lamp, to make sure that the lighthouse was still lit. You both dined on some bread, scones with jam, and some dried meat together, not wanting to tear yourself away from the comfortable conversation that flowed between you.

You were not drunk, however the warmth and buzz of alcohol certainly strummed in your veins, and not only that, you felt more emboldened to relax around him, noticing that the cheeky disposition that he once had, slowly making a reappearance.

It wasn’t until you looked out to the lighthouse for a fifth time, did Aemond finally say something.

“Do you not trust my skills?"

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him. No, because that would mean not trusting your own knowledge and skills, and from the way he had actively listened to you, repeating your instructions and knowledge, and even going so far as to asking things further, it only solidified your belief that his skills were more than satisfactory.

It was more so, that you did not trust yourself to look up from your glass of whiskey to meet his burning gaze.

What you did not trust yourself to do was another thing entirely.

“No.” You blushed shaking your head, “Not at all. I am the one who taught you how to do so. Unless you question my teachings?”

His response came far quicker than your answer, “Not at all. I would say you are by far the most knowledgable teacher I have had.”

A crooked smile wound its way on your lips. You looked up to meet his gaze, “I am sure there are many things that you could teach me that I do not know.”

You don’t know why you said it, you did not even truly mean to be so crass, but at your words, his gaze darkened, and Aemond looked at you through his silver lashes, “I am sure there are. What do you wish to know?”

Heat rose up your neck and into your cheeks, core immediately clenching at his changed demeanour. Your mouth felt dry, and try as you may, you found you could not tear your eyes away from his lilac one.

“I-“ You wet your lips, “I’m not sure.”

The glass of whiskey pinged as Aemond clinked his signet ring against it, pursing his lips as he watched you.

“I don’t believe that.” Aemond’s hand dragged slowly across the table, one long finger reaching out to caress your hand, digit grazing over yours that held the glass.

Your breath stilled in your throat, and the air around you became charged, and still you could not tear your eyes away from him, “I suppose,” You swallowed thickly, “You could teach me about sailing." You diverted, "I have only ventured on my row boat, so I know little about what it takes to man a ship, let alone Captain it.”

The finger moved again, up then down, up then down, crackling energy moving beneath the skin leaving goosebumps trailing up your arm. Your breath became shallow, and that familiar warmth between your thighs amplified.

“Hm.” Came his deep hum, “Sailing. Is that all you wish to know?”

In a moment of weakness, you looked away, cheeks burning hot and heart almost jumping from your chest. Your breasts heaved against your stay, and the finger that caressed yours slipped away. You looked out again, feeling completely overwhelmed, mind racing like the winds of a storm, crashing thoughts and crackling emotions swirling rapidly inside of you.

You cast a cowardly glance to the lighthouse, your only escape, your only safety. The one thing you knew best, the one thing that was solid in your world, unmoving, unbreakable. Your one constant.

The scrape of a chair, and then, warmth.

A hand beneath your chin, Aemond lifted your gaze up to his as he stood above you, his eye darkened with desire. You shivered, not from the cold, but from him.

Everything about him set you ablaze.

“Y/n,” He whispered your name like a prayer, drawing your attention to him and only him, “Tell me what you want.”

There was no going back. No stopping what was about to happen, and your heart didn’t want to stop it, your heart wished to continue, and in that moment, you took what courage you had left, and breathed your answer.

“You.”

His head bent down to you slowly, and you exhaled a shaky breath, watching as he came closer and closer, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin lightly, not at all cruelly, but rather to keep you there for him, and when his lips finally met yours, you melted.

Uncertain as you were, Aemond guided you again through the motions, his lips moved against yours slowly, your neck craned back to kiss him, lips pressed against his. He tasted like whiskey, and the sea, and smelt of the musk that followed him, sandalwood.

A hand snaked around your waist, and gently pulled you to stand. Even whilst standing, you still craned your neck toward him, Aemond towering above you as you tried to stand on the tips of your toes to assist in reaching him.

Little by little you melted into his embrace, one hand coming to cup your cheek, the other pulling you in tighter by your waist, the warmth of his body seeping into yours hotly, and the smell of him engulfing you entirely. Your lips parted against his, and he hummed deeply, the vibration in his chest rumbling against yours. Your hands fisted into the front of his tunic, pulling him closer, desire burning you up.

You had never felt such fire before, such heat. The pull to him, his embrace, his every being set you ablaze, a flame that you were sure, would last for a thousand years.

It felt as if you were burning together.

The hand at your waist tightened, and a moan fell from your lips into his. Tentatively, your hands loosened at the front of his tunic, sliding up to his shoulders, feeling the silky strands of hair between your fingers as you buried them into the back of his head. Aemond grunted in approval, and pulled you impossibly closer to him.

You could feel, much to your delight and nervousness, the hardness of his desire pressing against your stomach.

His lips pulled from yours, and you blindly chased after them, hearing a small chuckle emit from his throat, but his lips pressed to the corner of yours, then to your cheek, then below your ear, and finally, a whisper.

“I wish to take my time with you.” Aemond said huskily, a soft inhale pulling air into your chest as your core grew wet with want. Your fingers tightened in his silver tresses, pulling a low moan from him.

Two large hands slowly skimmed down your sides, causing you to squirm in their grip as he mouthed at your pulse in your neck. Small whimpers and heavy breaths was all to be heard until his hands came beneath your ass, and then the kissing stopped, his grip tightened, and you found yourself pulled up into his embrace.

You squeaked, legs wrapping around his waist, your hands pulling tighter in his hair as he grunted, his lips crashing against yours once more, hungrier. Starved. You could feel his hardness against your core, and timidly, you rolled your hips against his.

Aemond sighed into your mouth, his fingers tightening against your flesh, his legs carrying the two of you to your bedroom blindly. Your back bumped into the doorway, earning Aemond a breathy giggle, which in turn earnt you a low apology breathed through parted lips.

With all his carefulness, Aemond gently placed you back on the ground by the bed, breaking apart from your embrace momentarily. You looked up at him through your lashes, watching as he pushed away the hair by your face reverently. It was so tender, so praising in its touch, you felt as though the world fell away and just left you both. And with those careful hands once more, hands that were roughened and calloused from years at sea, he skimmed them down your front, halting at the line of buttons that started at your collarbones and ended at your waist.

Aemond did not move to undo them, and instead kept his hands were they were, resting atop them as he waited for your answer. Waiting for your consent to move forward, your permission to allow him to see you bared as no-one else has.

Permission to touch you in ways that no-one ever had, not even yourself.

Your heart raced in your chest, a nervous excitement making its way through your veins as you stared at up at him, your answer, you already knew, but right now, with the way he was waiting, with the way he was moving with caution and care, you could scarcely voice it. And so, without finding the voice that had been lost, you rose your own hands, placing them over his.

Aemond did not pull away, his chest rising and falling agonisingly slow, as though he was restraining himself, nor did he step away when your fingers skimmed beneath his and began slowly to pull your buttons through their holes, to show him that you very much wanted this as much as he did. And although your hands shook whilst you did it, his hands skating up to your shoulders and neck, then down to your waist and up again whilst you did it, you felt a blooming confidence to undress yourself for him.

When finally the last button was undone, your dress sagged against your shoulders, Aemond’s warm fingers brushed the material over and down your arms, goosebumps rising on your skin. His hands continued, down, down, down your arms until the top half of your dress fell away, and the skirt of it held true, the belt and tie at the back not yet being undone. But it was not your fingers who pulled it away and to the floor, but his, reaching his hands behind you to assist until all that you were left standing in was your stays, slip and stockings.

His eye drank you in, gaze falling lower and lower, your chest pressing against the stays as you heaved in breaths of anticipation, heat erupting over your skin with every second that passed. His pupil had blown wide, swallowing the lilac to leave the eye almost completely black with desire, and only then did he step away from you, and begin to do the same.

Away came his shirt, and then his shoes and breeches, until Aemond stood completely bare before you, all the while, your hands pulled at the strings of your stays, slacking its grip on your body, until it too joined the pile of clothes below.

Then came your slip, shoulder by shoulder strap, the silence around you deafening with each agonising moment that passed as you both watched each other, a slow reveal of what was to come, a slow reveal of each others bodies, and not once had you dared to look past Aemond’s shoulders at his nakedness in fear of what you would find.

For you knew without even truly knowing it, that there would be some sort of... sizeable member on his person.

Aemond stepped forth in a flurry of pearlescent skin and hair and captured your lips in his, his hands helping to pull down the slip that separated you both, no patience or care to wait any longer, the tension finally pulling his resistance taught until it broke. His thumbs dipped beneath the silky material and dragged it down your body, lips moving away from yours to mouth at your neck again, but Aemond did not stop at your shoulders.

The sailors trail of kisses moved from neck, to clavicle, heated lips seeking the skin hungrily, then he continued from clavicle to sternum, a sharp inhale breaking the silence around you, his eye momentarily peeking up at you as you looked down at him, hands on his shoulders. Turning his head, he kissed at the sides of your breasts, breathless sighs pulled from deep within you, and still he trailed lower, kneeling down in front of you as he pulled the slip with him.

His face was aligned with your core, the slip held at your hips by his hands as he looked up at you, one last silent request to which you gave him a small nod of your head, inhaling deeply for courage.

When at last he let go, letting the silk fall to the floor below, his eye dropped away from your face and down your body, settling at your centre in front of him. You could feel a hot breath of air against your mound, as he let out the breath he was holding in.

“Gevie.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to each of your hip bones, his hands skating down to the tops of your stockings on your thighs. Your hips jerked forwards, a small hum on your tongue as you looked down at him.

Aemond ducked his head and mouthed at the crux of your thighs, a kiss placed on either side of your core, an exhale breathed into the hair atop your mound, a wanting inhale, which all the more set your nerves alight.

With the patience of a saint, Aemond rolled down your stockings on each leg, and tugged away each shoe, until the both of you were completely bare, and you had to force yourself to breathe deeply. Everything told you to hide your nakedness, to run, to apologise, but the way he looked at you, the way he kissed at your inner thighs, inching his way higher to your centre, you found you couldn’t, feet rooted to the floor completely.

In the low candle light, Aemond looked a though he was praying, eye half lidded shut, on his knees, hands brushing gently along your thighs as he mouthed near your core, slowly inching his way closer and closer, eye focused on your face, until it finally happened.

A low whine escaped your lips as Aemond pressed a kiss to your centre, bottom lip dragging along your pearl softly. Pleasure struck through you when he did it again, his eye sliding shut, his large hands wrapped around your thighs as though to keep you from running away.

Each kiss was slow, wet lips pressed to your centre with practised ease, the man taking his time with you as you stood on shaky legs. His lips parted against you, and the wet of his tongue parted your folds, causing you to jerk your hips into him.

“Ah!” You squeaked, fingers gripping his shoulders tightly, unsure of what to do with them, warmth spreading up through you as Aemond pulled away momentarily to look up, tongue wetting his lips.

“Sīr dōna.” He purred, before dipping his head once more, tongue swiping up through your wet folds to pay attention to your throbbing bud. Each kiss was followed by a flick of his tongue, and you found yourself heaving breaths, and pleasure wound a familiar coil inside of you.

Aemond’s hands slid from the backs of your thighs to the front, up to your core where he used his thumbs to part your folds, opening you up for him. You looked away shyly, a breathy moan passing through bitten lips as he focused entirely on your pearl.

He pressed himself against you tightly, nose bumping your bud as he licked lower towards your entrance, tongue scooping up your slick eagerly as he hummed, his speed and pressure gaining with desire.

You were so close already, the coil tightening rapidly with every swipe of his tongue and press of his lips. You knew he could sense it, with the way your thighs shook and your stomach clenched, breathy sighs and moans falling from you as you writhed in his grip.

One hand slid down, the long digits tickling at your thighs as it moved underneath you to your entrance, it was then when Aemond broke away to look up at you again, gaging your reaction, and when you made no move to stop him, he rubbed a digit back and forth through your folds, gathering the wetness there before slowly pressing inside of you.

He kept his eye on you the entire time, the breath in your chest stilled as you held it, his fingers far longer and thicker than your own, already a minor stretch filling you inside.

You thought of what was to come, of what would eventuate from this all, how his length would be much larger than just one finger, and the thought alone caused you to clamp down against him.

Aemond stilled and pressed a kiss to the tuft of hair at the top of your mound, “Relax for me.” He whispered, and with a deep breath you did, allowing yourself to feel the pleasure rather than the discomfort.

“Good.” He praised, leaning forward once more to kiss and lick at your centre, the one finger inside slowly pumping in and out of you, not foreign to what you have done to yourself before, but foreign in the way that it was not your hands doing it.

His first finger was met by a second, and although there was a slight burn as he pressed inside of you, it still filled you with a desire you had never felt before, a barely restrained whine filling the room as he paused, keeping them pushed deep within you to allow you to adjust as he sucked at your pearl, tongue flicking over it, molten heat spreading through your limbs.

Your legs buckled forward, hips canting towards him, the tips of his fingers grazing the spongey patch within you causing you to cry out. Aemond’s brows furrowed, and tentatively, his fingers stroked at the patch again, a moan melting off of your tongue. He focused his intent, crooking his fingers against the patch inside, his tongue not once slowing down against your bud.

The coil tightened, tighter and tighter, and your hands flew from his shoulders to his hair, fingers tangling themselves in his pearly tresses and pulling, earning you a rumbling hiss, spurring his movements further. Your core tightened around him, your peak barreling towards you, and Aemond sensed it, mumbling against your wet folds as he fucked his fingers in and out of you wetly.

“Let go for me.” He moaned, sucking at your pearl with intent.

Heat burst through you, and you jerked with a cry, your peak ripping through you with such a force, if it wasn’t for your hands in his hair, and Aemond’s hand on your thigh, your knees would have collapsed beneath you.

Aemond rode you through your pleasure, fingers and tongue not slowing once as he prolonged your peak. You breathed heavily, hands loosening in his hair as you tried to catch your breath, heat strumming in your veins as he pulled his fingers from you, placing calming kisses against the top of your mound and hip bones. His hands smoothed your hips as he finally stood, standing over you, his lips and chin wet with your essence.

Pulling you close, he kissed you, and you could taste the tang of yourself on his lips, parting your own to lick at his mouth as he did to you. The heat built inside of you again, the fire in your gut beginning to burn once more, and slowly but surely, he led you backwards, pushing you to lay down as he moved to crawl atop of you. It was then that your eyes took in his whole body.

All of him.

And there was a lot of him.

Aemond’s length stood heavy against his hip bone, swollen and hard, his tip a ruddy pink as clear liquid leaked from the top. Pale veins creeped around his base, with soft silver hair dusted across his pubis. It was thick, and long, and far bigger than the fingers he had placed inside of you.

Sensing your gaze and dry swallow, Aemond lifted your eyes back to his with a touch of his hand beneath your chin, a reassuring gaze meeting yours, “We will go slow.”

You swallowed again, nodding, not knowing how going slow would help fit him inside of you. But it was clear that this was not Aemond’s first time, and what was clearer was that he was decidedly sure of himself and his abilities, and that, at the very least, settled the lingering trepidation that you had.

He crawled above you, body slowly lowering onto yours as he kissed you again, a hand skimming down your side as he shifted slightly, bringing his fingers down to your core once more. You hissed, feeling his digits dip through your folds, a burst of sensitivity shooting through you. And as if taking this into account, Aemond pressed one finger into you slowly, and then another, distracting you with a heated kiss.

Warmth began to bloom inside of you again, slowly building with each crook of his fingers, the sting of the stretch of a third finger dissipating with the heat of pleasure that began to grow and grow.

Each crook of his fingers brought that familiar pleasure back into your core, slowly building and building as you writhed beneath him. Your eyes fluttered shut, back arching as your chest pressed into his, the warmth of his gaze grazing along your face. You could feel your slick gathered between your thighs and fought the blush that rose in your cheeks, head turning to the side.

“Don’t hide.” He cooed, “You’re perfect.” His thumb swirled against your pearl.

The coil within pulled tighter with each swipe of his thumb, and you felt the warmth of his lips against yours as he brought you to your peak once again. You moaned into his mouth as he fingered you through it, lips trailing to your cheek and down your neck, whispering words or encouragement.

“Sīr gevie.”

Dragging his fingers from your core you opened your eyes, looking up at Aemond who looked back down at you. His hand moved in your periphery, and you followed the movement. The sailor dragged his slick fingers along his length wetting it, your gaze locked on his hand as you watched him languidly stroked himself above you. Your core clenched around nothing.

“Are you ready?” He whispered, lone eye searching yours for confirmation.

You licked your lips and swallowed, heart racing in your chest as you tried to calm yourself, muscles tightly wound in nervous anxiety for what was to come, but you wanted more, you needed more.

You needed him.

It wasn’t until you nodded that a small smile pulled at his lips, making your heart flutter. Aemond adjusted himself above you, leaning some of his weight on an arm above your head as he lined himself up with your dripping entrance. The candle light in the room drenched the room in a warm glow, illuminating his violet eye and silver features.

Gods he was beautiful.

You could scarcely believe that this was real, that this was happening, that he was here, in your bed. That he had survived and lived with you for days, regaining his strength and now he wanted to do this with you, he wanted to take your maidenhood, and to you, it seemed that he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

The tip of his length brushed through your folds, and your breath held in your chest. Aemond paused, keeping his eye on you, waiting until you nodded again for him, and then slowly but surely, pushed inside.

Every muscle tensed as he pushed inside, a sharp sting shooting through you. You winced and Aemond stilled, watching your face intently, his long silver hair falling over his face and down over you like streams of moonlight.

Despite him being just barely halfway inside of you, you felt full and stretched apart on his length. You writhed underneath trying to alleviate the dull ache, core clamping down on him which made Aemond hiss above you, his cock throbbing inside of you.

His eye fluttered shut and the hand that had been guiding his length gripped your hip tightly, breathing heavily atop you. After a breath, his violet eye opened once more to gaze at you, head dipping to press a tender kiss against your lips before sliding inside to the hilt.

You both breathlessly moaned into each other, feeling him press against every single part of you. Every ridge, every vein, you could feel as it brushed up inside of you, his tip nudging against your cervix snugly. You tightened around him, and if it was even possible, he jerked further inside with a tilt of his hips. You sighed into his mouth, the painful throbbing slowly ebbing away to make way for a new sensation.

Aemond broke the kiss once again, dipping his head again to look at you, “Good?”

You didn’t know how to respond, so instead, you arched back up to capture his lips, nibbling at his bottom lip lightly. This was all that he needed before he pulled out of you slowly, testing your reaction before he pushed back inside.

Your hands, unsure of where to hold him, gripped his shoulders again, and the hand on your hip tightened further, no doubt leaving bruises in their wake.

Each thrust was gentle, slow, and he took his time, pressing kiss after kiss to your lips, trailing down to your neck where he nipped and sucked at your pulse point.

“Gods.” You mewled, arching into him, grip slipping from his shoulders up into the soft hair at the nape of his neck.

Aemond groaned as you tugged him closer, his hips thrusting against yours, each pump of his hips pulling mewl and moan from you, soft grunts and sighs falling from his plump lips, his face nestled into the crook of your neck as you gripped him tighter against you.

You had never thought it could feel like this, so full, so deep, so entirely overwhelming, and with each moment that passed, Aemond brought you closer and closer to your third peak. His thrusts began to speed up, your breasts jolting with each pump of his hips, the wood of the bed softly creaking beneath you.

Aemond lifted his head from your neck, looking down at you, his soft lips parted as he grunted, “Sīr sȳz. Gūrogon nyke sīr sȳz.”

You didn’t know what he had said, but the way he had said it made you whine, head thrown back as your core contracted around him, causing a sharp moan to fall from his parted mouth. The bed beneath you was damp from your slick, and with each thrust, the obscene wet sound of your folds filled the room loudly.

The hand on your hip skimmed up your body to your breast, squeezing the mound softly before pinching at your nipple lightly.

“Ah!” You arched your chest into him, the new sensation creeping through your chest.

“Iksā vok. Kesā sagon ñuhon. Sīr vok syt nyke. Eminna ao grevenka lēda ñuha rūs. Qogralbar.” Aemond’s hips made a particularly hard thrust, the tip of his cock pushing against the end of your walls.

“I don’t-” You moaned, hand pulling at his hair for purchase, “I d-don’t know what you’re saying.”

His lips pulled into a smirk, and his head dipped to kiss you deeply, tongue pushing into your mouth to lick at yours. You moaned into his mouth, feeling the coil begin to tighten in finality.

“You will.” He breathed, pulling away, resting his forehead against yours, “You’ll know soon.”

The hand at your breast travelled to your mouth, and your parted your lips instinctually, letting him rub two fingers over your tongue, coating them in saliva before they trailed back down your body to your swollen pearl.

As soon as he pressed them against you, you jerked, walls clamping down onto him.

“Good girl,” He praised, “Let go for me, want to feel you squeeze my cock.”

The obscenity of his words sent you over, the waves of pleasure crashing over you again and again, as you did exactly what he told you to do. Your eyes screwed shut, head thrown back, whining moan ripped from your chest loudly. Aemond cried out above you, and you felt his member throb within you, warmth filling you up as he slowly stilled.

His forehead pressed against yours, the both of you breathing heavily, chests against each other as you came down from your highs. You didn’t even have the wherewithal to think about the fact that he had filled you, the only thought in your mind was the tingling sensation that spread throughout your limbs and the utter bliss of him inside of you.

When the both of you came down, Aemond peppered gentle kisses across your face. First at your cheeks, your lips, your nose, until finally your forehead, where his lips lingered as he slowly pulled out of you.

The empty feeling you felt as he pulled away was foreign after being so full, and you whined at the loss of closeness. Warmth began to seep from within you onto the bed beneath, but you couldn’t force yourself to care, your eyelids drooping as fatigue pulled you under.

Aemond shifted in the bed to pull you to his side, your head resting against his bare chest, the thump-thump-thump of his heart loud beneath your ear.

With gentle hands, he trailed his fingers up and down your side as you tucked yourself closer to him, enjoying the feeling of protection and warmth that he gave you.

The room was still, and the candle light got lower and lower, as did your eyelids. When finally they drifted shut, Aemond shifted beside you, looking down to watch as you began to fall asleep in his arms.

You didn’t see the small smile that pulled at his lips as he watched you, or the way his eye creased with content, the only thing you felt was his lips at your hairline before you feel into a deep sleep.

I didn't put translations because the reader doesn't speak High Valyrian, so she wouldn't know what he was saying, but here they are if you're curious.

Translations:

Gevie - Beautiful

Sīr gevie - So beautiful

Sīr dōna - So sweet

Iksā vok. Kesā sagon ñuhon. Sīr vok syt nyke. Eminna ao grevenka lēda ñuha rūs. Qogralbar - You are perfect. You will be mine. So perfect for me. I will have you round full my babe. Fuck.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

@blackswxnn @marihoneywk @targaryenrealnessdarling @namelesslosers @aemondsfavouritebastard @dahlias-and-marigolds @aemondsbabygirl @toodlesxcuddles @jemmaagentofshield @malfoytargaryen @bellaisasleep @aaprilshowers @assortedseaglass @elizarbell @xpersephonex @lijeno @likeanecho344 @coffeeobsessedtrencher @diannnnsss @lexwolfhale @notasockpuppetaccount @at-a-rax-ia @spinachtz@marysucks-blog @generalkenobitrash @zenka69 @shygardengalaxy-blog @kittendoll05 @300nightmare003

#aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fanfic #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fic #aemond #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond x y/n #hotd fanfic #lighthouse!Aemond #asumofwords lighthouse #sailor!aemond #LighthouseKeeper!reader #sailor!Aemond x reader #Sailor!Aemond #LighthouseKeeper!Reader #Asumofwords Lighthouse #shipwreck!aemond

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godisshook · 8 months ago

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Brotherly Love

Gavin was more than the average frat bro, it was obvious to see. Since he had joined the fraternity, he had been held in high regard by his brothers, and seen as a rising star. He was a sight to behold, and he knew it.

The sophomore was a popular figure within the Sigma Delta Rho fraternity, an adonis with a killer smile and a personality to match. He had it all, or so he thought. A single person would change all of this, and rock his world forever.

Casey.

The slender pledge had captured Gavin's attention from the moment he stepped foot into the frat house. His toned physique and boyish charm were undeniable draws, but there was something more to Casey that Gavin couldn't quite put into words.

Ever since pledging Sigma Delta Rho and moving into the frat house at the start of the semester, Casey had been infatuated with Gavin. There was just something about him that drew Casey in like a moth to a flame. He did everything he could to get his attention, from staying to clean up after fraternity events, to personally running errands for Gavin.

Months would pass, as Casey started to become his own in the fraternity, gaining the trust of his brothers, but, most importantly to him, gaining the attention of Gavin.

The two exchanged glances during frat meetings and shared brief conversations in passing, making Case. The unspoken tension hung heavy between them, both aware of the appearances they had to maintain with the fraternity. They were keenly knowledgeable of the traditional nature of their frat and knew that anything more than fleeting glances would draw suspicion.

Despite this, the two would talk in secret, forming a relationship while trying to keep their romance hidden. It was torture for Casey, as his need for Gavin would consume him entirely. Their romance bloomed slowly but blossomed nevertheless, and Casey would soon get his wish, as the frat was set to have a massive party in the spring.

The night of the party, Gavin and Casey found themselves alone in Gavin's room. The faint smell of alcohol still lingered in the air as they sat on Gavin's bed, lost in each other's gaze. The two had caught each other's gaze all night, and this had been their moment, their escape from the noise. The tension between them was palpable, and neither one could deny the sparks flying between them anymore.

As Casey leaned closer to Gavin, his heart pounded wildly in his chest, Casey couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by his emotions. He wanted nothing more than to feel Gavin's lips against his own, but he knew that this moment could change everything for them both.

Taking the initiative, Gavin gently cupped Casey's face with his hands and pressed their lips together in a passionate kiss. It started slow at first, with gentle brushes of their lips against each other's, but soon became far more intense as they explored each other's mouths with eager tongues.

In a drunken haze, the two intensified the moment, with the heat of the moment silencing the booming party outside. As clothes began to line the floor, Gavin's lips slowly brushed Casey's chest, creating more sparks as his hot breath caressed his sensitive skin.

Gavin continued to kiss along the contours of Casey's body, moving downwards at a slow but fiery pace, causing the heat between the two to reach a fever pitch. Gavin's muscular body heated up under Casey's touch, adding fuel to the burning fire of their passion. Before their moment could reach its expected crescendo, a knock on the door would cause things to end abruptly, forcing the two back out into the commotion.

It was a fleeting moment, but enough to leave Casey wanting more. Days came and went as he found ways to keep his mind off of Gavin. After days of monotony and stolen glances, a simple text would be Casey's saving grace, "Come to my room tomorrow at 4, don't keep me waiting." Still in class, Casey fought a smile, but as soon as he left, he darted back to the house, a smile growing from ear to ear.

Now steps away from Gavin's room, Casey could hear the familiar sound of the showers. A wicked smile came over his face as he knew exactly what to expect.

Casey took the towel lying on the bed, chuckling at the fact that it wouldn't be staying on if things went well. Despite a tinge of fear, the air was thick in the bathroom, as anticipation mingled with need. Casey looked at the form in the shower, and asked, "Gavin, is that you?" With his familiar low voice, Gavin replied, "Of course, get in."

Casey initially shivered as he entered the shower; allowing the cold water to wash over him, as Gavin quickly consumed him with his body, warming him up instantly. Within this embrace, Casey felt the unmistakable bulge of Gavin's cock pressing against his.

Gavin took a tuft of Casey's hair in his hand and began thrusting against his head; his body betraying him as he thrust into Casey's mouth. Casey choked slightly, but he didn't let go, his hands grasping Gavin's thighs, pulling his cock deeper into his mouth.

In between thrusts, Gavin would turn up the temperature in the shower, causing steam to build up, and for heat to swell up inside both of them. The shower became even hotter as Casey got lower and lower, laying soft but burning kisses all over Gavin's muscled body. Casey's mouth surrounded Gavin's cock completely, and Gavin threw his head back as Casey began sucking.

Deliberate in his movements, Casey teasingly sucked Gavin off, as he slowly worked his way around Gavin's cock. Unable to handle the tension anymore, Gavin took control, taking a tuft of Casey's hair in his hand and thrusting it against his cock. Gavin's body betrayed him as he gave in to his desires, thrusting faster and faster. Casey choked slightly, but he didn't let go, his hands grasping Gavin's thighs, pulling his cock deeper into his mouth. Before he could cum, Gavin raised Casey back up, and told him, "We're going to the bed." Surprised, Casey looked up into his eyes, as he was suddenly lifted by Gavin into the air, and out of the shower.

The two dried off, and Casey changed into a fresh pair of underwear. Ensuring the door was locked, Gavin said, "You're not gonna need that underwear for long, just saying." Casey smartly replied, "You know people will hear us if we do anything out here?" As if anticipating his question, Gavin turned up the TV, with the jumble of voices drowning out Casey's protests. Closing the distance with a smirk, Gavin grabbed Casey by the hips, pulling him into a deep kiss. Their tongues intertwined as the two were free to give in to their inhibitions fully dry.

Gavin pushed Casey back onto his bed, their bodies sinking into the soft mattress. He kissed his way down Casey's chest, pausing to tease his nipples and elicit soft moans of pleasure.

Lower and lower he went, trailing kisses along Casey's taut stomach and tracing circles with his tongue around his belly button. He could feel the anticipation building within Casey as he neared his ultimate destination - that throbbing cock that was calling out to him.

Gavin reached over to his nightstand and fumbled around for a moment before finding what he was looking for; a bottle of lube left over from one of his previous conquests. Noticing this, Casey remarked sarcastically, "Of course I'm not your first." Gavin laughed, saying, "If it makes it any better, you’re my first guy.” Noticing Casey’s surprise, Gavin asked, "Wait, am I your first…anything?" Casey's nod made Gavin even more delicate, as he sought to make it count.

He uncapped the lube and poured a generous amount into his hand, warming it between his palms before reaching down to prepare Casey for what was about to come.

Gavin's hand slid between Casey's legs, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin as he prepared Gavin for what was to come. Casey moaned, his body trembling with anticipation as Gavin's fingers slid inside him, stretching and preparing him for his massive cock.

Casey gazed up at Gavin in awe. It was like watching an expert at work, with Gavin somehow knowing everywhere that turns him on. With there being no chance of interruption, the two were completely consumed by the other. They were two souls intertwined in a moment of pure bliss, and Casey never wanted it to end.

In between kisses, Casey would give in to his need, "Fuck me," he whimpered against Gavin's lips. "I want you inside me."

Gavin's heart skipped a beat as he met Casey's gaze. The request caught him off guard; he was shocked by Casey's boldness, but there was no denying the hunger burning within him. Gavin simply replied, "As you wish."

Not missing a beat, Gavin thrust inside Casey, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. He lost himself inside Casey, as his most primal urges began taking over. Gavin's mind raced, his desire for Casey threatening to consume him entirely. His cock twitched, aching for release, as Casey started jerking himself off, matching Gavin's strokes. The two continued to fuck, their bodies slick with sweat. Each thrust sent shivers down their spines, their moans mingling together in a symphony of passion and desire.

Gavin's cock twitched, aching for release. Soon, his body tensed, and he came, his cock throbbing as spray after spray of hot, white cum shot all over Casey. The two would release at the same time, and they collapsed onto one another; with Gavin's grip on Casey's hips tightening, bucking over him as he filled Casey with his seed.

Casey lifted himself off Gavin, as they both tried to catch their breaths. Their eyes met, the raw hunger still present but now tempered as the two found release. As Casey laid on him, Gavin felt a sense of ease, "I've always wanted to see you blush." Gavin said, his voice low and seductive. Casey didn't respond and simply nestled harder into Gavin's body.

"You okay?" Gavin asked, concern in his voice.

Casey nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, I... I loved every second of it, but it was... intense."

Gavin smirked, his strong hands ruffling Casey's sweat-slicked hair. "That's the whole point, isn't it?"

#college guys #alpha muscle #muscle jock #muscle #frat bro #forbidden love

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lesbicosmos · 2 years ago

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six of crows is so incredibly hozier coded and to prove it ive assigned each character/couple a song and given a specific section of the lyrics

(i feel entirely normal about this i swear)

the books in general are 100% eat your young

There's money to be made, whatever's still to come Get some Pull up the ladder when the flood comes Throw enough rope until the legs have swung Seven new ways that you can eat your young Come and get some Skinning the children for a war drum Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young

kaz brekker - arsonist's lullabye

When I was 16, my senses fooled me Thought gasoline was on my clothes I knew that something would always rule me I knew the scent was mine alone All you have is your fire And the place you need to reach Don't you ever tame your demons But always keep 'em on a leash

inej ghafa - would that i

With the war of the fire My heart moves to its feet Like the ashes of ash I saw eyes in the heat Feel it soft and as pure as snow Fell in love with the fire long ago With each love I could lose I was never the same Watch it still live in roofs Be consumed by the flame I was fixed on your hand of gold Lay in waste of my lovin' long ago

jesper fahey - someone new

There's an art to life's distractions To somehow escape the burning weight, the art of scraping through Some like to imagine The dark caress of someone else, I guess any thrill will do Would things be easier if there was a right way? Honey, there is no right way

wylan van eck - through me (the flood)

Any time I've struggled on Against the course Out on my own Every time I'd burn through the world, I'd see That the world, it burns through me

nina zenik - angel of small death and the codeine scene

Feeling more human and hooked on her flesh, I Lay my heart down with the rest at her feet Fresh from the fields, all fetor and fertile It's bloody and raw, but I swear it is sweet With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene

(this is so nina post-parem)

matthias helvar - foreigner's god

Her eyes look sharp and steady Into the empty parts of me But still my heart is heavy With the hate of some other man's beliefs

kaz/inej - work song

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her

(this is just so i would come for you and if i couldn't walk i'd crawl to you i cannot)

matthias/nina - in a week

A thousand teeth And yours among them, I know Our hungers appeased Our heartbeats becoming slow We lay here for years or for hours Thrown here or found To freeze or to thaw So long we become the flowers Two corpses we were

(they're also incredibly work song coded, it was a struggle choosing between helnik and kanej for that one)

wylan/jesper - like real people do

So I will not ask you Why you were creeping In some sad way I already know I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask and neither should you Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do

#i know i say most things are hozier coded but THIS BOOK AND THESE CHARACTERS OMG #i spent an hour making this post #im so normal about them #six of crows #six of crows duology #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #kanej #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #wesper #nina zenik #matthias helvar #helnik #hozier #music

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wordsofwilderness · 2 months ago

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To Touch and Argue

Day 6: Orgasm control (with begging bc I just can't stop myself <3) - Jegulus Kinktober - @jeguluskinktoberr - 708 words - EXPLICIT

Most people didn’t understand why James liked fighting with Regulus so much—how their relationship could ever be healthy when they argued over the most pointless things. They only saw it on the surface, not the fire in Regulus’ eyes, so alive with frustration and desire. They weren’t there when the bickering turned into a passionate make-out session pressed up against a wall as soon as they were in the privacy of their home. They didn’t see how neither of them cared about the subjects of their arguments, only what they led to.

James moaned low into Regulus’ ear, his arms clinging to him and his back pressed against the wall in their entryway. They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom this time around. His trousers and boxers were pushed down to his thighs, Regulus’ hand wrapped around his length. The quick and calculated storks were fuelling the pressure growing rapidly in his lower abdomen.

“Are you going to admit you’re wrong?” Regulus asked as he twisted his hand over the sensitive tip of James’ dick.

“I’m not,” James barely got out as his body tensed up.

Regulus stopped in an instant, his hand at the base of James’ dick holding tight. What had felt like an inevitable tumble towards pleasure came to a screeching halt.

“Oh, fuck you,” James groaned, head banging against the wall behind him.

“No, Jamie, that will not be happening,” Regulus smirked, “Unless you admit you’re wrong, of course.”

“Well, I won’t.”

“We’ll see,” Regulus hummed, starting up again with slow strokes.

Regulus knew his body too well, just the right rhythm, the right flick of the wrist, the right pressure. With the burning behind his eyes and a wicked grin etched on his face, it didn’t take long before James was nearing his orgasm again.

“Changed your mind yet?” Regulus asked, his voice laced with false sweetness.

“You know I haven’t,” James barely got out between his grunts and moans.

Predictably, Regulus stopped the moment before James tumbled over his edge. It was so close, just a second longer, one single stroke. “Please, Regulus, please just let me come.”

Regulus scoffed, “You think begging will save you?” His thumb traced a vein on the underside of James’ dick as he stroked it again—pulling James right back to the path he was desperately trying to stay on.

“Let me come, please?” James continued to beg, his hands digging into Regulus’ back through his shirt.

“You know what I want.”

James’ entire body was shaking with need, crying out for release. “Just please.”

“Not yet,” Regulus murmured, before demanding, “Tell me, who is right?”

Summoning up his last scraps of defiance, James choked out, “Me.”

Regulus’ hand stilled yet again, a laugh escaping from Regulus at how James futilely tried to fuck up into it.

“Fine! Yes, you’re right, and I’m wrong,” James groaned, “Just please let me come. Please, just let me…”

A triumphant smile played on Regulus’ lips as he cooed “There you go, see that wasn’t hard now was it, Jamie?” Regulus fell to his knees, his hand guiding James’ dick to him as he said, “Come on, Jamie, all yours. Come for me.” Taking it fully inside the wet heat of his mouth, he tugged at James’ hip in signal.

James stared down with wide eyes, the sight itself nearly enough at this point. Burying his hand in Regulus’ curls, he fucked into Regulus’ mouth with a loud moan. It took an embarrassingly few thrusts before he came. His body trembled with the onslaught of pleasure, his legs nearly buckling under him. Regulus swallowed his load, but still, James’ hips twitched—like all those other would-be orgasms caught up to him all at once.

His breathing ragged, he let his head fall back against the wall, leaning on it for support. Regulus let James’ dick fall out of his mouth. Careful not to touch any oversensitive parts too much, he tugged it back into James’ boxers before fixing up his trousers as well.

“How do you feel?” he asked, with a caress of James’ cheek.

“Floaty,” James grinned, a bit caught in Regulus’ eyes, “What were we even arguing about this time?”

Regulus smiled, “I have no clue.”

#5 fics down!!#only 26 more to go 😅#why do I do this to myself #oh right bc James and Reg are hot and deserve to fuck nasty #jeguluskinktober #jegulus microfic #microfic #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #marauders

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inkofthebrain · 7 months ago

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Imperial

[Paul Atreides x F!Reader] 1468 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? (More strangers to lovers tbh) ARRANGED MARRIAGE TROPE, not proofread LOL

Warnings: mild use of the voice on reader. Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions. Jessica being Jessica….

A/n: this chapter goes from 0 to 100 plot wise: be ready >:) sorry 4 whiplash… || Thank you for all the support! I upload these chapters as i write them so apologies for the spontaneous new chapters. My request are open for one shots and more!

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Three———

The following weeks with the Atreides are spent planning, discussing politics, and all the while you continued to silently observe Paul and his mother.

There are two things you are certain of. One, Bene Geserit have been at work, a congregation of women who you have always been weary of, and two—their plan had gone horribly wrong. Paul was the byproduct of a story not of his own which he, or should I say his mother, has appropriated for political power.

“Abomination”

Your fathers truth sayer’s words ring through you ears. You are terrified for what is to come, you gaze out of your bedroom window at the sloshing sea lapping at the edges of the cliff.

The nightmares about your soon to be home still plagued your nights, you were getting less and less sleep and as the wedding grew nearer your exhaustion grew with it. You prayed Arrakis would kill you quick.

You and paul spent hours in the Caladan meeting room, discussing the various political forces across the galaxy, alone and with both the Atreides and Imperial advisors. the details were complex, and Paul's understanding of the universe was quickly expanding by the day.

He learned about the various noble houses, the political factions within the houses, the imperial courts and their complex bureaucracy, and the many conflicting religions and belief systems across the galaxy.

This was just the basic information. the true power came from analyzing and understanding the social complexities and hidden motivations of the various players. Paul knows he must oblige with the current way things are running before slowly putting his own reforms and systems in place.

As you taught him the complex workings of the imperium and its politics, you realized his intelligence was unmatched. It was as if he absorbed the information like a sponge, taking it all in and putting it to use. his natural abilities coupled with his hard work and dedication made him a formidable political force.

You sensed that his thirst for knowledge and a desire to understand what drove the universe was insatiable, just as yours was.

You had grown closer to Paul but your shared disinterest in the Marriage lingered. You did not care for marrying a stranger, that was bound to happen, it was the circumstances of your engagement that lit an unpleasant fire in you. Paul, on the other hand, was clearly longing for something, someone, he knew he could not obtain.

You both were children who were manipulated, selected, and bred for this. And now as adults you must face your unnerving future.

Duty is everything in this world.

———

The day of the wedding was a week away, but the planning began much earlier. The ceremony was highly anticipated by the imperial court and the noble houses. rumors were rampant, various debates and gossip spread like wildfire. It was clear that this wedding was much more than a marriage of political convenience. It was a pivotal event for the empire, one that everyone would be watching closely and analyzing under a microscope.

As you walked to the dining hall, Delia at you side making occasional small talk, you mind was racing. You had compiled a highly educated theory based on observation and the small bits of Benne Geserit secrets you sister had let you in on. You were determined to gather more data to support this.

Jessica sat at the head of the table, Paul sat to her right and you sat to his left. The three of you were discussing the political ramifications of the wedding, how they would be viewed by the various noble houses and imperial courts. Your discussion was respectful and polite, but under the surface there was a tension, a subtle underlying pressure, that nobody acknowledged but was very present. After clearing her throat and waved the guards out of the room.

Your stomach dropped as she looked to you "Now, there's one other matter we've yet to discuss." She turns her attention towards you and looks straight at you, with a serious look on her face.

Jessica continues. "I am aware you understand the political nature of this union, and you understand the political implications of the ceremony itself. But what isn't discussed enough is the reality and expectation of the marriage after the ceremony. The two of you are to consummate the marriage immediately after, and the child that results from it will have enormous political implications. Do you understand what i'm saying?"

You almost choke on your wine at her boldness. Paul glances at you, he is alert to the seriousness in her tone, the way she is careful to drive home this specific point.

Still watching your reaction, she finally resumes speaking. "The consummation is expected to immediately produce a child. The pressure will be immense, and I am asking you to treat this with the upmost seriousness. The birth of the child will create a political shift that will alter the galaxy for generations. I trust you understand the gravity of the situation at hand? Correct?”

You take a large swig from your wine glass. “May I speak freely?”

"Yes, by all means, speak freely.”

You take a deep breath. “I have not been trained by the Bene Geserit like my sister so I am not privy in the ways” you pause. “But from my observations I have compiled a theory. There is a plan, a plan greater than us all. And you, Lady Jessica, set that plan on fire by giving the late Duke Leto a male heir. Yet they allowed you to become a Reverend mother after disobeying the high order.” You pause, watching her reaction. “Now you must scramble to solidify your disobedience into the prophecy”

Jessica is frozen for a few moments, eyes locked on your own, trying to hide the surprise you've seen through. It's clear that you've struck a nerve here.

Paul leans forward, his eyes locking onto yours. "This is impressive. Very impressive." there's a glimmer of admiration in his eyes, and the slightest of smiles tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“I assume I am correct then?” You look between the two

Jessica finally nods, a hint of a proud smile on her face. "You have struck at the very heart of it. My disobedience is not my own, Paul was set to be the bridge between the Bene Geserit and Atreides... and the imperium's entire future. And because of my actions, that entire future has been brought upon us prematurely. We have a plan, it is true. I will ensure that paul's inheritance of the empire remains intact. But you are key to that plan, and you must comply with my direction on this matter."

“Tell me everything.” You demand, your temper growing short as your heart starts beating faster and faster. “This is my life and the legacy of the Imperium!”

She leans forward, her intense gaze meeting yours. there's a firmness in her eyes, and she speaks with a sense of conviction. "Listen to me; if you wish to ensure your safety and the safety of Paul and the empire, then you will need to trust me. Do you trust me?"

“No!” You yell, “You made your son a false prophet and I refuse to go along with it until I am aware of every detail of this plan.”

“Calm yourself and listen” Jessica demands, her voice is dark and distorted. You are enchanted instantly—She has used the voice.

“Mother…” Paul says, guilt pricks at his soul as he watches your face go blank, but Jessica ignores him.

"I will not tell you everything at this very moment, but trust me, you will see it all in time. Just like I have, just like Paul has. There are some things that are necessary to keep from you until that time. I will tell you what you need to know, nothing more and nothing less. does that sound acceptable to you?"

Her hold on you breaks and you look to the mother and son in disgust. Everything about this woman is fabricated so she may complete her plan, a ploy in which you are just a mere stepping stone. Rage runs through your entire body with such velocity that you feel sick. You sit in silence.

“Do. You. Understand?” Paul’s voice is stern and startles you and you nod your head.

“Good” Jessica says flatly.

You turn your head to look out the window, closing your eyes while taking a deep breath you attempt to collect yourself. Paul and Jessica are staring into you. You can feel it.

———

Next chapter

🍾 Taglist @aoi-targaryen

#paul atredies x reader #paul atredies x you #paul atredies fanfic #dune part two #paul x reader #dune part 2 #dune x you #dune x reader #dune fanfic #dune 2024 #dune 2021 #dune movie #dune 2 #dune #paul atreides #jessica atredies #reverend mother jessica Atreides

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halevetica · 23 days ago

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Only Fools Rush In

Day 6 for Sterek week Prompt: Tarot Cards

Dread wasn't the right word for how Derek felt staring at the boxes that sat on his dining room table, but it was pretty close. His stomach was in knots. It had been since Cora told him they had to clean out the storage shed of their old things. A handful of boxes that he and Laura had hastily gathered after the fire. A place to store memories that neither one had been ready to go through. Now they sat on his table like a ghost before him.

He pushed off the lid of the first box. The smell of Ash filled his nose. Bile rose in his throat. Inside sat a set of blackened alphabet blocks, a half-melted children's xylophone, and a deformed doll.

These had been Lily's things. Taking in a slow breath he put the lid back on. He blinked back tears as he moved on to the next box.

A fusion of Hot Wheels cars, a charred soccer ball, and a singed teddy bear. Lucas.

Derek's cousins had both been so young, only two and six.

He put the lid back on and closed his eyes. Keeping this stuff had been pointless. It was useless. Just a painful reminder. But Laura had gathered anything that still had shape, tears streaming down her face. He'd been too numb to object at the time.

He reached for another box. He peered inside to see if it was just as depressing as the others. It was from his room. The giver, half burned. An incinerated Walkman that was too damaged to open. An unharmed baseball. A few baseball cards, a partially melted basketball trophy. All things from a life he hadn't been a part of in so long.

He pushed it away from him. Why had they kept this? These people were gone. These weren't happy trinkets to remember them by. They were sad, twisted reminders of a family long gone. Even his box was nothing but a ghost of a boy who died in that fire.

All these tombs, cradled remnants of people he loved. Opening these boxes didn't flood him with memories he wanted to remember. They filled him with the grief and guilt he'd been working so hard to let go of. To move past. To accept.

Taking another slow breath out he reached for another, pushing aside the lid and peering in. His brows furrowed when the smell of ash didn't hit his nose, but instead, stale, faint Jasmine and bergamot. His mind swept through memories of walks in the woods, gentle lectures, and coffee dates. Laura's perfume.

He plucked the small purple bottle. This box wasn't from their house. It was things Laura had left in their apartment in New York. This was the box Derek had packed after she died. He pulled out a framed picture of the two of them. A coffee date two days before she left for Beacon Hills.

He pulled a book on flowers. She had gotten into flowers after the fire, picking up a hobby his mother had loved. She was the best florist he knew. She could make even the ugliest flowers fit into a beautiful arrangement. Laying the book next to the perfume on the table, he continued to rifle.

A small jewelry box that held a simple silver necklace. A flower charm dangled from it. A recipe book she bought when she wanted to learn to cook. And a familiar purple box, gilded in silver stars and moons.

It had been a gift for her birthday. Another hobby she had taken up. Derek had never teased her about her many hobbies. He knew they were something to fill the emptiness she was feeling. He knew because he had felt it too. He had attempted to fill his own void, but he often found himself numb and distant.

He brushed his fingers along the small box before plucking it out. He opened it, making his stomach roll.

"So the three-card spread has many variations but I really like past, present, and future. Watch." Laura had laid the cards out in an arch. "Pick three." He did as told plucking three from the deck. They were black with gold filigree.

Derek rolled his eyes but said nothing as she stumbled through her reading.

"Okay, so you pulled..." She paused glancing up at him. "The three of swords upright." Her eyes saddened. "Your past is filled with suffering and grief. Your heart feels broken."

Derek narrowed his eyes. They were dangerously close to topics he didn't like to discuss.

"The second card is your present. And you pulled—" She let out a small sigh. "Five of cups upright... You feel a great loss, you're drowning in self-pity and grief."

Derek's jaw clenched. He didn't want to play this game anymore.

"The last one is your future." Laura's tone tried to sound hopeful. She flipped his third card and froze. Her fingers partially concealed a cloaked figure holding a lantern. "The Hermit reversed," She whispered.

"Let me guess it's just as bleak as the others?" Derek sneered.

"You face isolation and loneliness, you may feel aimless like you're lost."

"This is stupid. It's all fake." Derek swiped at the cards scattering them to the floor of the kitchen.

"Derek," Laura huffed, scrambling to gather them up. "I borrowed these."

Derek had felt bad for how he reacted and gifted her with her own deck. She didn't ask to do another reading for him though, and he never offered.

"Alright, Laura," he said, opening the box. He splayed the purple cards across the table and stared at them. The stars and moons shimmered in the sunlight that peeked through the window.

He slowly pulled three cards from the deck and laid them face down in front of him. It couldn't be all bad. Right? Maybe his luck had changed. It was a decade ago that he had last pulled cards. He was a vastly different person now.

He flipped the first one to see a figure draped in a purple robe, holding a scythe in one hand. Leafless trees framed him. The card faced away from him.

"Death reversed," he whispered as he compared it to the guidebook. "Fear of change, stagnation, decay." He frowned at the words. His stomach twisted, this was already not going well. But it was his past card. Perhaps his present card would be better.

His fingers brushed over the silky exterior. He took a deep breath, his heart hammering against his ribs. He flipped the card. A moon peered up at him. In front of it were six swords held aloft, in front of the moon. Beneath them looked to be a vast ocean of purples and pinks. This one faced him.

He flipped through the book to find the six of swords. His stomach flitted as he read the words, transition, leaving behind, moving on. That didn't seem so bad. But what did it mean? He wished Laura were here to tell him. What he wouldn't give for her to be here.

"Future," he breathed reaching for the final card. He was surrounded by people who cared for him. He wasn't alone or lost. He was right where he wanted to be. He wasn't missing anything. This could rip it all away though. Show him a disruption he wasn't willing to accept.

He considered briefly not flipping the card and just packing them away but a tug at his chest froze him in place. He could almost hear Laura's words. 'You can't be scared of your future, Derek, that's how you get stuck in the past.'

He hurriedly flipped the card. Two people faced each other, each one holding a cup in their hand. They leaned into each other like lovers.

Derek blinked at the upright card and flipped to find the right page. Unity, partnership, connection.

Relief rushed out of him. That didn't sound bad at all.

The sound of voices outside had him quickly shoving the cards and book back into their box. That would be Cora and Stiles back with the last load of boxes from his old loft.

He managed to get the box closed just as they entered, each one carrying boxes.

"Just set them in the living room," Derek said, trying to act nonchalant. He didn't know why he was acting like he'd just been caught reading porn. It was a silly card read.

"Oof, you started on the hard ones first. How's it going?" Cora asked, glancing at the ash-filled boxes behind him.

He turned to the boxes on his dining table and shrugged. "Honestly, it's pretty bleak. I don't know why we kept these all this time."

"Are you planning on keeping them?" Stiles asked, peering at the one open box of Laura's behind Derek.

"Not most of them. Maybe this one but the rest are..." he shook his head.

Cora lifted one of the lids and her expression went hollow. "You kept this?" she whispered. She reached in and pulled out an alphabet block. He could barely make out the letter L through the scorched wood.

Stiles sucked in a breath.

"Laura was... I didn't have the heart to argue with her." Derek shrugged.

"You shouldn't keep these." Cora put the block back and stepped away from the box like she could catch something from it.

"Yeah, I think I'll keep the box of Laura's things from the apartment in New York but the rest..." How was he supposed to throw them away though? It felt...wrong. Like he was forgetting them.

"Why don't I take these out to the jeep, you guys can start unpacking the other boxes." Stiles stepped past Derek and Cora and gathered two of the boxes into his arms.

Derek's chest warmed. He was glad Stiles was there. He was often like a soothing balm on a fresh wound when it came to his past. He never pressured Derek or made him feel less than. In fact, he was always so supportive.

"Did you go through those while we were gone?" Cora asked, meeting Derek's eyes.

"A few of them."

"I'm sorry. You should have waited for me."

"I honestly forgot what was in them. I knew it wouldn't be good but... You have to understand. We were in a low place. Keeping this was the only way we knew how to cope."

Cora rounded the table and placed a hand on Derek's arm. "You don't have to explain."

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Derek bowed his head in shame.

"You said you're gonna keep Laura's box?" Cora turned to the perfume bottle and raised it to her nose.

"Yeah, she uh, she picked up a lot of hobbies while in New York." Derek gestured to the cards and books.

"Cooking, like dad always did." She smiled at the recipe book. "Flowers. Mom was always so good." She brushed her fingers along the cover. She paused as she got to the deck of cards. "She got into tarot?"

"Yeah, I bought her those." Derek nodded. "No clue where she got the inspiration to start."

"Me," Cora whispered.

Derek frowned at her. "I had a friend at the time, Savannah, she got a deck for her birthday. I told Laura I wanted a deck for my birthday. She listened to me rant for two days about how it works and the different pulls."

Derek blinked. "She wasn't just filling the hole with hobbies. She was filling it with all of your hobbies."

Cora opened the deck as Stiles returned. "Is that a tarot deck?" He asked, peering at the cards as he gathered the last of the boxes.

"Yeah," Cora laid out the cards.

"You never told me Laura was a fortune teller," Stiles nudged Derek as he walked by.

"I never got my deck," Cora spread the cards out and placing her hand over them, swirled them around the table. She continued to mix them up.

"What are you doing?"

"It's how you shuffle them."

"Pull a card," Cora urged.

"What? Why? Don't you have to have like a special spread and such?" Derek pretended to not know how it worked. He didn't know why. It was nothing to be ashamed of.

"You can do a single card pull. It's often good for clarity. Or if you have a question. It's been a long time since I've messed with tarot honestly."

Derek stared at the cards. He didn't have a question. And despite his most recent pull not being so bad, he was still afraid of them. Like they alone could disrupt his life.

"My mom had a deck when I was young," Stiles said, returning once again. The boxes were all out of the house.

It was almost like a weight was lifted off Derek's shoulders.

"I'm trying to get Derek to pull one."

"It's fake," he grumbled.

"You pull one," Stiles urged her.

Cora plucked a card. "The Star upright." She held up a card with a woman looking up into a night sky, a star gleamed down at her from a distance.

"I have no clue what that means," Stiles shrugged.

Derek pointed to the book. "Look in there."

Stiles flipped through pages and then tilted his head. "Wait, it's just some words."

Cora snatched the book from his grasp. "Well, duh, it's interpretive. So the star upright means hope, faith, and rejuvenation."

"Wait, but I thought..." Stiles frowned down at the cards before gathering them up into a pile. "Hold on, let me try— oops," Stiles reached for the card that he dropped.

"What is it?" Cora asked wide-eyed. "When you accidentally flip a card, that means the universe is trying to tell you something."

Stiles laid the card on the table.

Derek's stomach lurched. The two of cups card lay upright.

"Two of cups," Cora hummed, flipping through the book. "Unity, partnership, and connection."

"What on earth could the universe be trying to tell me with that card? I'm not even dating anyone."

Derek's heart sped in his chest like it could escape the situation. Surely that wasn't what his card was referring to.

"Maybe you're gonna meet someone soon."

"In Beacon Hills?" Stiles snorted. His eyes cut to Derek briefly.

"I dunno, I'm not a professional tarot reader," Cora shrugged, gathering the cards back up.

"There's one downtown by the station."

"Think she'd teach me?" Cora laughed.

Derek stared at Stiles, his mind reeling. Did that mean something? Surely not. It was chance. There were only seventy-eight cards. The chances of pulling the same card were... less than two percent if he was doing the math right. Shit. That wasn't a high percent. Surely that had to mean something.

"Well, I should get going. Derek, if you need help unpacking all these I can come back by tomorrow."

Derek blinked trying to process the words Stiles had just spoken. "Uh, I uh, sure."

"Okay, I'll see you around noon then?" He gave Derek's forearm a gentle squeeze as he walked by.

Derek nodded, unable to say anything.

"Thanks for your help, see you." Cora held out a fist and Stiles bumped it with his.

Derek loved how easily Stiles fit in. Like he was meant to be here, part of the family. It felt natural having him around.

Once Stiles was gone, Cora turned to him and crossed her arms.

"What?"

"How much longer are you gonna pretend that you're not in love with him?"

Derek stiffened. "He's family, nothing more."

"He could be literal family if you got your head out of your ass."

Derek shook his head. "Stiles deserves better."

Cora scoffed. She poked him in the chest. "That's a pathetic excuse and you know it."

Derek scrubbed a hand down his face. He stared down at the box of tarot cards. He had spent the last two years convincing himself that Stiles deserved to find someone outside of the supernatural. Someone normal. But when he pulled his future card...

"I need to run out for a bit, you want to order in tonight?" Derek asked, grabbing his keys from the counter.

"Uh, Sure. Chinese or Pizza?"

"Chinese," Derek answered sliding on his leather jacket.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," He answered vaguely, he took the steps from his new house two at a time. This was stupid and he didn't know why he was doing it but he was determined to get answers.

"Are you really doing this?" Derek asked himself staring at the sign in front of him. The 'Matron of Ravens' it read. The shop was small, its glass front was decorated with raven symbology. The words 'for fate seekers' were plastered at the bottom in elegant scroll. A simple porcelain mask hung from the corner. Through the glass, he saw shelves of tarot cards, crystals, and other trinkets.

"You seem hesitant dear," A voice pulled Derek's attention to the door where a woman in a long black dress stood. Her thick hair was pulled into a black side braid that draped to her waist.

"Yeah, I don't really know why I'm here." Derek glanced over his shoulder at the car. He should just get back in and go home. Pretend none of it had happened.

"Yes, you do. You're just afraid of the answer." She smiled. "You can't be scared of your future. That's how you stay stuck in the past."

Derek's head whipped back to face her, his eyes wide.

"Come inside." She walked in, not waiting for him to answer.

Derek followed despite the pit in his stomach. He didn't even believe in fate. And she was right, he was afraid of the answer. He wasn't going to do anything about it.

The inside of the shop smelled like lavender and sage. It wasn't overbearing to his senses though.

"Sit." The woman gestured to a table with two chairs that sat behind an open draped room.

Derek sat and let out a slow breath. He felt foolish. His heart hammered and his stomach rolled.

"My name is Maven Dusk," She said, sitting across from him, the curtains now drawn giving them privacy. The space was so small Derek almost wondered if this was meant to be a closet.

"Derek Hale." He glanced around. The walls were draped in tarot iconography and ravens.

"So tell me, why are you here?" Maven asked, clasping her hands together on the table.

"Aren't you supposed to know the answer to that?" Derek asked, focusing back on her.

Her lips quirked into a smile. "I'm not a mind reader, Derek. I'm a tarot reader."

He dropped his chin to his chest and let out a breath. "I'm sorry, I just..." he scrubbed a hand down his face.

"You're troubled by something. What is it?"

"My sister. She had this deck." He glanced around expecting to see one lying around but there was nothing on the table but a black tablecloth. "I don't know... I don't believe in this stuff, no offense."

"You must if you're here."

"I didn't. But I pulled this card and I don't know what it means. I mean, I read her book but... it's just the keywords or whatever."

"Is your sister versed in the way of reading tarot?" Maven asked, tilting her head slightly.

Derek's shoulders dropped. "She was learning...but she's..." he trailed off.

"Ah, I see. You feel like she may be trying to tell you something?"

Derek met Maven's eyes. "I did a three-card spread. It's the only one I know. Past, present, future. And it didn't mean much to me, but not ten minutes later someone pulled a card and it was the same card I pulled for my future. The deck was shuffled. The chances of that are... I mean how often does that happen?"

Maven leaned back and hummed. "You want to know if this person is important to your future?"

"I can't imagine a world in which he's not," Derek muttered. "I want to know what the card means."

"Well, why don't we see if it shows itself to you again?" She pulled out a deck from seemingly nowhere. Had they been in her pocket?

She spread the cards out in an arch.

Derek's stomach vaulted. "Wait."

She paused, looking up at him. "Is something wrong?"

He shifted in his seat. He didn't want another pull.

"You claim to not believe in them yet you fear the cards. Why?"

Derek frowned down at the black cards. Gold lines draped across them, converging to a porcelain mask in the middle.

"I had a bad reading once and I just..."

"The cards don't control your future. You can change it at any time. That's the beauty of it. Go on."

Derek took in a slow breath and let it out as he reached out. His hands shook as he plucked three cards from the lineup.

"First," She nodded to the first card Derek pulled.

He hesitated before closing his eyes and flipping. The artwork depicted a man riding a chariot, being pulled by two horses. It was reversed.

Derek sucked in a breath as he waited.

"The Chariot," Maven hummed. "You lacked control and direction in your past. You held onto aggression. Perhaps you were controlled by an obsession or goal."

Derek let out the breath. That was true. But he was in a better place now. He carefully flipped the next one. An arch of leaves held up by four posts, in the distance were two people in celebration. The card faced him.

"Ah, the four of wands. This card is often associated with community. This card shows celebration as well as a harmonious, happy, and relaxed environment. You are currently in a happy place. Your life has balance and stability."

Derek nodded. Once again true. He stared at the final card. Part of him hoped it was a different card. Part of him hoped it wasn't.

"You fear your future. Why?"

"Because I'm right where I want to be."

"Is that why you came to see me? Because you're right where you want to be?"

"I'm afraid of it getting messed up. I've worked hard to get where I am. I can't—" he shook his head. "I won't lose that."

Maven smiled warmly. "Are you at risk of losing that?"

"I don't think so."

"Then why not be excited for the future? Eager for what more you may accomplish." She gestured to the card, urging him to flip it.

His throat shriveled like leaves on a hot day. He could do this. It wasn't a big deal. He flipped the card over quickly. A hand held a cup that overflowed into a lake below it.

"Ace of cups." She smiled. He wanted to take that as a good sign, but he couldn't push away the anxiety. "I see why you're afraid now."

Derek straightened in his seat.

"The keywords here are love, new feelings, and intuition."

His stomach rocked.

"You have feelings for someone, don't you?"

"What does the card mean?" Derek pressed, ignoring her question.

"Well, it suggests the awakening of new feelings. Or perhaps a new stage of intimacy with someone. This card signals there is an opportunity for you to grow emotionally should you accept. You only have to learn to trust your gut and avoid over-analyzing situations."

Derek scrubbed a hand down his face.

Maven frowned, watching him. "You seem displeased. Many would be thrilled to receive this card."

"I can't—"

"Tell me what future card you pulled earlier." She urged, tucking his picked cards back into the deck.

"Two of cups," Derek said softly.

"A card known for unity and connection." She nodded. "That card encourages the beginnings of partnerships of any kind, and the harmony that arises when two people come together to work in unity. It also suggests a relationship that is mutually beneficial, one where the partners encourage one another."

Derek's throat stuck.

"You fear this. Why?" Maven tilted her head at him.

"He deserves better."

"Perhaps you are his better."

Derek blinked at her. No. She just didn't know the whole story. "He was messing with the deck. He dropped a card and it flipped over facing him. It was the two of cups."

"So you think that he is who you will end up with?"

"I don't know... how else do you explain it?"

Maven gave him a sympathetic look, it made him feel small and judged. He hated it. He shrunk back into his seat. What was he a thirteen-year-old girl?

"It's all up to interpretation. Do you love him?"

Derek swallowed, his throat still like glue. "Yes."

"And how does he feel about you?"

Derek opened his mouth and snapped it shut. Did Stiles feel something for him? He never questioned it. Stiles had never hinted at it or acted differently. He never smelled different either. A new fear gripped his chest. "I don't know."

"Perhaps he thinks you deserve better."

Derek frowned. The idea that there could be better than Stiles was a ridiculous notion.

Maven plucked a card from the middle of the deck and slid it forward. "Perhaps you should stop overthinking it and just make the leap."

"I don't want to lose him. If he doesn't want me then—"

Maven sighed, sliding the card back into the deck. "I cannot tell you want to do. I can only tell you what the cards say."

"Thank you. I feel better knowing what they mean." He wished he had more clarity with that knowledge, unfortunately, though he was only more unsure.

Derek sat at the kitchen island, staring at the tarot cards in front of him. They were splayed out like Maven had done. He could only stare though. He didn't know what he was waiting for. The cards weren't going to jump into his hand. His sister wasn't going to appear and claim to be trying to sway him from the other side.

"Knock knock," Stiles' voice called from the front door. Derek whipped around to see Stiles stepping inside. He jumped to his feet.

"Stiles, you're—" Derek glanced at the clock on the stove. Noon. "Right on time," he sighed. How long had he been staring at those cards?

"Yeah?" Stiles frowned. "Are you playing with those cards again? You did not strike me as the tarot type."

"Yeah, I'm not." Derek rubbed at the back of his neck.

"So what's with these? You decide to become one of those whimsical ladies on the front of tarot monthly?"

Derek snorted a laugh. "No, I was just... thinking I guess."

"Let's see what the universe has to say." Stiles reached over and plucked a card from the spread.

"This is the same card I pulled yesterday," Stiles hummed showing the two of cups.

Derek stared at it.

"What does this card mean again?" Stiles reached for the book but Derek snatched the card from his hand.

"Whoa, hey, what—"

"Pull again," Derek demanded.

"Dude, are you okay?"

"Pull again."

"Okay." Stiles grabbed another card from the deck. He held up the Ace of cups this time.

Derek snatched it from his hand. "Pull again."

"Derek, what's going on?" Stiles tilted his head, eyes scanning his face.

"Just—" Derek scrubbed a hand over his face, before slumping back into his seat. He let the cards fall away.

"What's wrong? Talk to me?" Stiles placed a hand on Derek's shoulder and it was like everything melted away. Stiles was always a comfort for him.

"I keep pulling these cards and..."

"I didn't think you believed in this."

"I don't."

"So why are you letting it bother you?"

"I don't know. I did a pull for myself and then I went to that tarot place downtown and paid for a pull there. These two cards were my future card and I'm just... trying to understand."

"They're just cards. Maybe you're putting so much stock in them because they were Laura's."

Derek sighed. "Maybe."

"Or maybe the cards are telling you that I'm your future," Stiles laughed.

Derek's shoulders slumped.

"I'm kidding."

"I think you're right."

Stiles blinked at him.

Derek's heart slammed against his chest wall as he searched for any scent changes. Nothing.

"I'm confused."

"Do you know what these cards mean?"

Stiles shook his head. "I mean, I don't know this one," he grabbed the Ace of cups. "I think the other one was something about connection."

Derek stared into Stiles' eyes. They danced worriedly in the bit of sunlight that filtered through the kitchen window above the sink.

"You left Beacon Hills. For years. Why'd you come back?"

Stiles' brows shot up. "What?"

"You could have settled down anywhere, but you chose to come back here. Scott moved to L.A. Lydia is traveling the world. Why'd you come back?"

Stiles shifted. "My dad's here and..." He shrugged, his eyes dropping to the card in his hand. "so are you."

Derek cupped Stiles' chin, forcing him to meet his eyes. "You deserve better."

Stiles blinked again, his brows furrowing. "If you're afraid of me leaving, I'm not going anywhere, Derek. This place is my home. You are my home." His eyes flitted down to Derek's mouth for just a moment.

Hope rocketed through him. Don't overthink it. Take the leap. He could do that.

Derek surged forward, catching Stiles' lips on his. It was less of a kiss and more of a declaration. A promise. A leap. He pulled back just enough to whisper into Stiles' mouth. "I want to be your better."

"I have no clue what that means, but yes," Stiles dove back in, reconnecting their lips.

Unity, connection, partnership, call it what you want. It was worth it.

#Sterekweek2024 #sw24moon #sw24tarot #Sterek #stiles and derek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #teenwolf #Sterek week

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celtigxr · 2 months ago

Text

THE PINK DREAD - CH. 16 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: Hangovers, blackmail, & a favour for a Prince. Word Count: 5098 CHAPTER WARNINGS: Implied homophobia, insinuated (dub) noncon

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: This is a bit of an inbetween chapter, so I'll hopefully get the next one out soon. Chapter 26, 27, and 28 were taking me so long.

Arthor Celtigar wasn’t an early bird, he was simply an insomniac. It also did not help that his day-to-day activities were lackluster, and did not require him to be awake early in the day, unlike his elder counterpart. He could sleep for a few hours in the middle of the day, and no one would notice his absence. It was easy to be forgotten in the Red Keep, he realized, especially if you were a boy of little consequence, which he preferred. It made his hobby of eavesdropping all the more easy.

He was in the family apartment’s shared solar when the door opened and Ser Steffon Hardy had ushered in his dishevelled and despondent sister before closing the door after her. Arthur briefly caught a glimpse of long silver hair standing in front of the entrance before the view was obscured by iron and wood.

“Long night?” He asked Valeana, who predictably ignored him as she fell into a settee and buried her face in the cushions.

He waited a few moments before he decided that she was unconscious enough to inspect her. Dress looked like she had spent the night in the dungeons, but it was otherwise intact; her hair had a few cobwebs stuck to it, and it was a bit frizzy. The humidity would explain the latter, but the former, well, he could only assume that was due to something far more scandalous. She also reeked of alcohol and body odour; so much so he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Oh, Valeana…” He tutted, wrapping his arms under her arms and hoisting her up with quiet difficulty. “Floris is going to be absolutely chuffed to hear of this.”

He was careful not to wake Shyla as he dragged his heaviest sister across the floor and into her bedchambers. With a soft grunt he pulled her onto her mattress, and dutifully picked up her legs after removing her shoes and laying them on the bed. Arthor even did her the favour of removing her prosthetic; with careful hands, he unbuckled the straps around her thigh, then knee, and slowly removed the wooden appendage.

The youngest Celtigar couldn’t help but wonder if Aemond was privy to her exposed thighs that night. It would explain her appearance, though he didn’t quite know the prince well enough to determine if he was capable of being deplorable enough to take advantage of an inebriated noble maid. Particularly one that was so toxic for him.

He supposed Valeana was attractive. In another life, had the Celtigars been more like the Targaryens and the Velaryons, Clement would have been married to her ages ago, and he would have been betrothed to Shyla. Sometimes, Arthor thought that’s exactly what Clement desired. The way he stared at Valeana was different to how he stared at Shyla, but then again, perhaps that was because they were full-blooded siblings and had a bond that neither he, Shyla, and especially not Floris could understand. Not to mention, Arthor wouldn’t know what lust and desire for a woman even looked like.

Women weren’t attractive creatures to him. A fact that Floris knew and took advantage of by making him her personal spy. She had a way of spreading gossip and conjecture like a forest fire, and being a man of his… tastes, Arthor was not welcomed in this world. At least, not in Westeros.

He returned to the solar, body laid out on the sofa with a book cradled in his hands until Floris awakened – she was always the first to. And she was used to seeing him already awake, or never haven slept at all, so she strode passed him with a soft ‘good morn’ and walked over to the table strewn with fruit, preserves, cheese and bread that had been laid out by a servant not a half hour ago.

Arthor stared at her in hard contemplation, wondering if he should tell her what he saw. He considered not to, as an act of defiance, but surely there would be whispers by others, and Floris will undoubtedly realize that he would’ve witnessed Valeana stumble in at dawn with Aemond on her tail. Then, she would use her blackmail: Arthor’s sinful rendezvous with a lordling under their father’s banners.

“I have something you would like to hear,” he forced himself to say. Floris’ large eyes perked up, all evidence of sleep clinging to her gone in an instant. She was politely chewing on grapes, but stopped so she could hear him in full.

“A certain sister of ours returned at dawn, looking quite bedraggled.”

Floris swallowed, the ends of her lips quirking in a poor attempt to conceal her morbid elation, “Is that so?”

“She wasn’t alone,” he sat up, using his finger in place of a bookmark. “A prince had escorted her back.”

That smile was pulled into a frown. Now her brow twitched, threatening to expose her suspicion and rage over this as well. “Which Prince?”

“One-eye.”

Floris scoffed and tossed her head back with eyes tightly closed. Her hand ran over her face, then she let out a growl of annoyance, “That bloody fool.”

When Valeana dreamt that night, it was more of a nightmare fueled by the raging headache that gripped her temples like pincers. Body sore, hot, and filthy from sweat and dust, she was a bag of bricks in the center of her bed. She was in complete paralysis, a motionless victim to the terrors of her subconscious, which was fed by the alcohol of last night and the shame and humiliation orchestrated by Aemond Targaryen.

She dreamt of running through that same passageway, completely naked, being pressed between stone walls and having to wade through murky knee-deep water. There was something or someone following her, which drove her to flee in the first place. Val could hear him, but couldn’t see him. A shadow with pupil-less blue eyes, much like how light would reflect against a cat's eyes in the dark. The crippling fear of being taken by this creature of the dark caused her heart to beat rapidly in real time, and the pounding sounded like war drums in her mind. At some point she had considered allowing it to happen; to submit to the predator that moved steadily faster than her pace. Maybe he would not devour her; maybe he meant no ill will; maybe he was her only option; maybe she’d enjoy it.

But the water began to rise and the walls opened up to the ocean, wide and endless, and plunged into a stormy darkness. A thunderous roar caused the surface of the ocean to ripple at its intensity, then the black water started to pull in various directions, collecting itself in a mountain that towered over her. The wall of the massive tidal wave folded in over Valeana, plunging her into its cold depths.

She woke up to ice cold water being poured over her head.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Floris’ self-satisfied greeting was met with rough coughing.

Valeana sat up straight, gasping and trying to learn how to breathe through her now waterlogged nose. Water collected in her eyelashes, which dripped into her eyes and blinded her momentarily.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The blonde started to wipe at her eyes as her coughing started to subside.

“It’s past midday,” Floris tilted her head, a small smile uncharacteristically set upon her long face. “And I’ve done you the favour of ordering a bath. You desperately need it.”

Still wiping her face, Val was now able to see Floris, albeit through manic blinking. “I could’ve done that myself, you know.”

“You were still unconscious, and I was impatient.”

“Impatient for what?” Val turned away, moving her legs stiffly over the side of the bed. She looked down, seeing her stump tightly wrapped in linens from last night. She had no recollection of removing her leg, nor did she remember even making it to her bed.

“To tell you the juicy little morsel that I heard this morning. It’s been a buzz all over the Keep.”

Valeana’s eyes flickered over to her suspiciously and a bit nervously.

“A little birdie told me that Prince Aemond was spotted dragging around a drunk woman all over the castle like a sack of rocks,” she guffawed, an obvious false laugh that made Valeana silently groan in annoyance. “Imagine the scandal. Imagine that woman’s family, and the shame they must feel because of her.”

The younger sister glared at the older, “I do not care about my reputation, Floris.”

“Father will care. Though, as it happens… People seem to think the woman he helped was just another Targaryen bastard trying to pretend they’re something they’re not. So you are off the hook, dear sister.”

“Oh good,” Val’s tone dripped with sarcasm, “So this conversation is over.”

“Not quite,” Floris’ expression became a little more conniving and sharp, which didn’t settle well with Valeana’s already unsettled stomach. “Father and mother will be home soon, and I am sure you do not wish for him to know what actually happened.”

“The problem with blackmail, Flo, is that you need something to prove what you are saying has verity, otherwise it is just hearsay.”

“Hm,” Floris smirked, “I have a witness. Two trusted ones, in fact, that father would believe.”

Val eyed her, “What do you want?”

“I want you to stop fraternizing with Prince Aemond.”

“You do realize I’ve been actively trying to avoid him, right?”

The brunette scoffed, “Please, I was not born yesterday, Valeana. I know your little game.”

Val looked at her with clear bewilderment, “What ga–”

Floris continued, completely ignoring her, “It has come to my attention through a series of grapevines, that the betrothal between Helaena and Aegon is steadfast. So, it seems that I will not be the one to marry Aegon.”

“I thought we’ve established that Shyla called dibs–”

“-- That leaves Aemond. It is a smarter match, anyhow. We are of similar intellect, interest, height.”

Valeana continued to stare at her step-sister as if she was babbling nonsensical madness that needed to be decoded by a maester.

“You want to court Aemond?” Val asked, trying to process this information with black and white answers.

“If you recall, you did give me your blessing.”

Valeana wanted to laugh, but her heart was beating at her temples. She felt more angry, if anything. She had every right to be, given how she was woken up.

“Y’know what, Floris,” she pressed her fingers into her eyes and exhaled noisily. “I don’t care.”

Floris smiled satisfyingly, but it quickly vanished when Valeana continued.

“I don’t care if you tell father. In fact, tell the whole damn court – no, the Realm. I want the fucking Dothraki in their grass sea to know about it. Because, the worst thing that could happen is that he will put me on a ship back home until my choice of betrothal or-or septa-tude will be made for me, saving me from a bigger fucking headache I have right now.

“I am not giving you Aemond. He-he was my friend first, and I honestly would rather see him… fall off his dragon, into—into the waters of the bloody God’s Eye, never to be seen again, than see him married to you, my dear, devious, deceitful step-sister. But! By all means, try. Truly. It would be very entertaining seeing you being knocked off that brittle pedestal you try to put yourself on.”

The silence in the room was heavy and suffocating. Valeana didn’t know where that all came from. She blamed it on the headache. And she blamed Floris for exasperating it. She justified it all.

Floris stood up from the bed, face pulled into a frown. “You know, Valeana, oftentimes you can be such a bitch.”

Aegon was another soul in the Red Keep whose sleep suffered that night. He had gone to the Street of Silk as he intended that night after Throne Room, but had arrived back home earlier than intended. It didn’t matter who’s hand or mouth or cunt was on his cock, he couldn’t get hard. And that was unheard of for him. It usually took almost nothing to get Aegon hard and ready for any willing and wet hole. When he returned to his bedchambers, he tried to do it himself. He managed, albeit it took much longer than he’d like. By the end of it, his meat was raw as venison, and he came so pathetically, it might as well not have happened at all.

When he did sleep, it wasn’t until dawn and the servants had started to come in with plates for him to break his fast. He managed to get at least four or five hours of slumber, and would have gotten more hadn’t it been for his grandsire waking him up in the only way Otto Hightower knew how: Loud, reprimanding, and merciless.

He ripped the tangled sheets from Aegon’s legs and glowered at his nudity before barking at him to wash up and dress, for Daeron was home.

Daeron.

Fucking Daeron.

The golden child, right after fucking Rhaenyra.

Helaena had taken Dreamfyre more times than Aegon took Sunfyre to visit Oldtown. Aemond never seemed to bother, and that is probably why he was the smartest of the three of them. Daeron had always been insufferable; the level of his arrogance rivelled both his and Aemond’s combined. As a young lad, he always demanded the attention of everyone in the room the moment someone wasn’t paying attention to him. Always “look at me! Look at what I can do!”, and his Hightowers cousins all did, cutting off any attention they were giving to Aegon and Helaena.

Aegon stopped visiting after Daeron’s thirteenth birthday, when he insinuated that Tessarion could best Sunfyre in a race. Aegon took the challenge, because of course he was wrong.

The Blue Queen won and Aegon was so bitter about it, he decided that was the last time he would grace Daeron with his presence. But now he was in King’s Landing for the first time, likely to consume as much attention as possible from every damned corner of the Seven Kingdoms. What’s worse, Otto wants Aemond and him to sup with him, as well as his baby brother’s syndicate of arse-munchers – his cousins.

There’s absolutely no bloody way he was going to sit at that table for longer than five minutes. The problem was that his grandsire would surely appoint a guard to drag him back into his chair after every try. Mayhaps there was a way to make it more interesting, or at the very least, tip the scales in his favour. Besides, it would be quite the sausage fest with only one woman in attendance… He would be doing his cousin’s young wife a favour by inviting more feminine guests to entertain her.

It would also be a triple win for Aegon. Not only will he have a buffer between himself and Daeron, not only will he make Aemond incredibly uncomfortable (a small morsel of revenge for last night), but he also has an excuse to see– Hm.

Well, best not dwell on why he desires to see Valeana so much.

Before he darkens her doorstep, he visits the kitchen knowing exactly what she needs, and has the cooks and servants prepare it for him. With a corked bottle, a bundle wrapped in canvas and twine in his hand, Aegon sauntered over to the Celtigar apartments, greeting their ever loyal knighted guard.

“Good morrow, Good Ser,” Aegon smiled cheerfully.

The knight nodded, his look of suspicion not concealed, “Good morrow to you, as well, my Prince. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if Lady Valeana was still in her rooms. I have something she’d appreciate, and I’d like an audience.”

The knight stared at him for so bleeding long, Aegon was tempted to pull rank.

“She is bathing.”

The thought of Valeana bathing made his balls quiver, which reflected in the twinkle in his eye. He looked too eager, he had to tone it down.

“Ah. Right then. I can wait for her in the solar, then,” Aegon nodded towards the door. When the knight did not make a move to open it, the prince’s friendly smile turned into an impatient one. “Well? Open the door for your prince.”

The knight sighed through flared nostrils, then moved at a glacial pace as he opened the door with reluctance. Aegon gave him a smug nod and strode in with confident strides. He looked about the room as if it didn’t look like countless others in the Holdfast. When he turned around he was met with the same knight again. Standing at the entrance, hands on the pommel of his sword and eyes boring into Aegon like he could read his intentions.

“Oh, you do not need to entertain me, knight. You may return to your post.”

“I am at my post, my Prince.”

Aegon’s lips went tight over his teeth in annoyance, “Right. Of course.”

“I’ll inform my lady of your presence, my Prince. Remain where you are,” he kept his eyes on him as he walked over to the quarters to the right of the room, which likely led to the twin bedchambers that the girls had shared. Aegon watched him closely, determined to show he felt no discomfort under this recalcitrant, bothersome guard’s scrutinizing leer.

The man knocked on the door, and a few seconds went by before it opened a few inches. Aegon strained to look over the hulking armoured fellow, but couldn’t make anything out beyond a thinly veiled opened window, the sound of water moving about, and the bonnet of the handmaid who answered the door.

“Inform Lady Valeana that Prince Aegon wishes for an audience with her.”

The maid had a brief look of surprise before mutely nodding and closing the door. The knight turned around, and rested his back against the wall next to it, resuming his ever wavering glare at Aegon.

Aegon stood idly for about 7 seconds before the awkwardness forced him into a chair, trying to act nonchalant.

“So,” Aegon clicked his tongue, “What is your name, knight?”

“Ser Steffon Hardy, my Prince.”

“Ah, from Crackclaw Point.”

“Yes, my Prince.”

Aegon tucked his lips under his teeth and nodded, “Interesting peninsula I heard. Tell me, have you ever seen a squisher? I’ve heard many old wives tales.”

Ser Steffon merely stared at him for a moment before shaking his head very subtly, “No, my Prince.”

“Ah,” Aegon nodded. “How disappointing.”

Just as the silence reached the precipice of painful awkwardness, the door finally opened, and Aegon immediately stood up. At first, he grinned cheekily, having a jest on her crapulous state on the tip of his tongue, but when she emerged, that was quickly forgotten.

Valeana emerged in a burgundy robe, tightly secured around her waist, and a muslin chemise underneath. She was still damp from her bath, making little wet patches on the white material underneath her robe. Unfortunately for Aegon, both robe and shift was floor length, and hid her modesty well. Even her large breasts, no longer caged in a tight bodice that pushed them against her ribs, were covered by the thick fabric of the robe. What took him off guard the most was her pink appearance; she was completely flushed from the hot water. Her cheeks were the colour of roses, deepening the faint freckles that he never noticed before. Val’s nose also was pink, like she had just been sniffling, or perhaps that was just from the steam as well. Then there were her flushed lips, that above all else, he felt captivated most by. Instinctively, he ran his tongue and teeth over his bottom lip.

“Prince Aegon,” her brow was already furrowed when she emerged, but it deepened at the sight of him. Her hands moved over her damp hair, gathering it over her shoulder. Aegon was once again taken back by a new thing: her hair was long. So very long and thick, and soaking wet. It darkened the fabric of her robe when it landed over her shoulder. He watched, enraptured as she ran her fingers through it to squeeze out the water. “How can I help you?”

He could only assume the formality was for the sake of their audience, and that snapped him out of his trance.

“I came bearing gifts,” He smiled politely, gesturing to the items he was cradling in his arm. “And to ask you a favour.”

She raised an eyebrow, looking at the bottle and bundle of canvas in his arms, then back at him, “What’s the occasion?”

Aegon’s eyes flickered to the guard and maid, and then back at her, “May we speak privately?”

Valeana immediately looked to Hardy, who’s jaw clenched disapprovingly. Thankfully, before the knight could bark a refusal, Val gave a directional nod towards the entrance.

“Ser Steffon, would you?”

“It is not proper for a lady to be left alone with a man, my lady. Especially after–”

“--I am aware, but my maid, Rosey, is here with me.”

Aegon watched smugly as the knight hesitated, fingers curling on the pommel of his sword before he complied. He bowed his head, sent Aegon a pointed look, and then stepped out of the solar. Once the door was closed, Valeana gave off a sigh and walked over to an armchair.

“Well, isn’t he a charmer,” Aegon eyed the door before returning his attention to her.

“He is protective, and after what happened last night, he wishes to keep me near until my parents and brother return from Dragonstone.”

“Speaking of last night,” Aegon took a seat nearest to her and placed the objects on the short table at her feet. “These are for you. They’ll help with the–” he pointed towards her head. At the look of her confusion, he elaborated, “As you know, I am no stranger to drink. I like to think I’ve become quite the crapulent expert.”

The muscles in Valeana’s face softened as she gave a soundless laugh through her nose, “Right, of course. Thank you.”

She reached over and took the bundle of canvas first, then unwrapped it. The immediate smell of bacon, eggs, and buttered toast met her nose, and she looked up at Aegon, her amusement evident on her face.

“Breakfast was a few hours ago, Aegon.”

He smiled, and shrugged, “It’s a reference from last night. Egg-on-toast, you called me…. Then said we were like eggs and bacon. So, I–” he gestured to the food. “I thought it would be an appropriate gift. As it happens, it will also help with your headache. And that,” he pointed at the bottle. “Will help the exhaustion.”

Valeana took the bottle to uncork it, then took a whiff of it and pulled away, “Hells, that smells like vinegar.”

“It’s pickle juice,” Aegon smugly confirmed. “Works every time.”

She gave him a skeptical look, “Is this a prank?”

“Never. I’ve grown out of that.”

She looked at him, completely unconvinced.

“... I’ve grown out of pranking you. Bloody hells, just drink and eat.”

Valeana still eyed him suspiciously, but threw caution to the wind and took a tentative sip of the juice. She cringed and shuddered, making Aegon chuckle.

“You’ll get used to it.”

After a short moment of her munching on her bacon and her ‘Aegon Toast’, she leaned back into the chair and crossed her legs. Aegon found it difficult to not stare, particularly since he could see the form of her legs underneath. The dark wood of her prosthetic was easy to see through the thin veil of the muslin material.

“I suppose you want to know what happened last night.”

Her blunt comment took him a bit off guard. He glanced up at the maid, who silently stood by the door. Valeana caught his look, and shook her head dismissively.

“She already knows… Rosey has been with me for years, she knows everything about me. And she’s mute,” Val craned her neck and gave her maid a kind smile, which the shy girl returned along with a short nod.

Aegon cleared his throat, “What–uh, what happened then?”

“I don’t remember much. It honestly feels like it was part of the headache-addled nightmare I had last night,” she sunk into the chair further, then took a piece of bacon and munched slowly. “I remember Aemond dragging me along the floor, because I refused to move.”

The prince couldn’t contain his smirk, “I wish I had witnessed that.”

“Hm, I am sure it was quite the sight,” she went on. “Then I vomited at some point… very demure of me. At some point we went into a passageway to get to the Holdfast faster, and–”

Aegon watched as she folded her arms over her chest and sort of caved into the chair. His entertained demeanor faded. Aegon moved to the edge of the seat in concern, “Valeana, don’t tell me he–? What did he do? Did he touch you, did he–?”

Val sighed hotly through her mouth and pinched the bridge of her nose, “No… Well, yes but– I wanted him to. He didn’t force himself on me, and…it didn’t go very far. Just– just, y’know, my br–my breasts…” Her face turned into a deeper shade of rouge at the admittance.

Aegon huffed, his fingers curling into his palm as he tried to contain his anger. That fucking little prick; he had the balls to accuse him of taking advantage of her whilst drunk, while he went on and did that very fucking thing?

“Valeana, he took advantage of you–”

“Aegon, stop. I consented to it. I wanted him to touch me. I still– fuck. Bleeding hells, it doesn’t matter anymore. He stopped and looked at me like he was appalled of me. Like I was the most disgusting thing in the world.”

Aegon ran his hand over his face before resting his chin on his palm, and then his elbow on his knee. He shook his head, peering at her through his fingers, “You’re very much the opposite of disgusting, Valeana. Aemond is just a righteous fool with a massive spear stuck up his arse. If I know my brother, and I believe I do, he must have stopped because he realized how weak and pathetic he was appearing.”

Valeana huffed a humourless laugh, “It didn’t feel like it.”

Freeing his hand, Aegon reached and grabbed hers, then leveled his eyes with her green ones. “Valeana… I may say this to a lot of women,” he spoke in a voice so serious that she had no choice but to remain quiet. “But I want you to know that I say this with all the sincerity in the world. You have the best tits I’ve ever seen, and I have never been more envious of Aemond until this moment.”

That got her to laugh. Her other hand slapped over her cheek as she descended into a fit of giggles. Even Rosey covered her mouth to shield her grin, but her shaking shoulders exposed her mute amusement.

Aegon grinned as a warmth grew in his chest at the sound, “Honestly, I am very tempted to run him through with a sword in your bosom’s honour.” He allowed her to laugh it off for a moment before running his tongue over his lip again as nerves wracked him. Aegon wasn’t used to being serious, let alone with a female that he was trying to console. Consoling at all was a foreign to him, but it appeared he had talent for it, somehow.

“In truth, Valeana, he wouldn’t have touched you if he wasn’t attracted to you, you must understand that.”

She swallowed thickly, and then proceeded to blink rapidly as she stared off into the corner. “Perhaps he really is no different than any other man.”

“He’d loathe to admit that,” Aegon concurred.

Val gave a rueful smile and a small nod of her head, “He always thought he was better than the average man. But he quickly turned into a ravenous beast the moment he saw flesh.”

Aegon raised a brow at that, “Is that so?”

“Yes,” the girl took a deep inhale of air and straightened herself up in the seat. It didn’t go unnoticed how she looked down at her chest, “His lips left bruises in their wake.”

The other brow rose with the first. Aegon’s eyes flickered to her modestly covered chest, and after a beat of processing that information, he asked:

“Can I see?”

She gave him a kick in the shin.

“Ow! Alright!” He peeled away from her, rubbing his leg. “Alright. I get it, he marked his territory – I am jesting!” He moved further away from her when she went to kick him again.

Rolling her eyes, Valeana relaxed into the chair, and took a tentative sip of the pickle juice, forgetting what it was for a moment. With another shudder, she quickly took a bite of the toast with egg.

“You mentioned a favour?” She changed the subject, bringing Aegon back to his initial purpose of his visit.

“Yes,” he crossed his leg, and cradled his knee with his hands, “You might’ve heard that my brother, Daeron, arrived on dragonback.”

“Mhm,” she nodded, continuing to eat.

“My grandsire wants Aemond and I to dine with him and my cousins this eve… And I am dreading it. As estranged I am with most of my family, Daeron’s presence is a burden I do not wish to endure alone.”

Valeana put down her food and blinked at him, “Are you asking me to keep you company?”

“I am.”

“Wouldn’t the Hand be displeased with my presence? Especially since I have no relation to the Hightowers? I would be intruding on a family gathering.”

Aegon waved dismissively, “Do not worry about Otto. He will be civil in front of his nephew and his wife in order to keep up appearances.”

“And what about Aemond? I don’t know… I don’t know if I can see him after last night.”

“Valeana,” Aegon reached out again, grasping her hand from the armrest. “Do not worry about him. I will not allow him near you. You can rest assured that your breasts will be in much more capable hands than he.”

“Aegon!”

“He left you in bruises, Val! The man’s a starved savage.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN SNEAK PEAK “I seem to have been robbed of a childhood growing up with you lovely ladies. I wish I had visited,” his smirk widened flirtatiously, “Seeing such beauty would have likely forced me to stay.” Aegon’s face soured with every word spoken by Daeron, forcing Valeana to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. “Perhaps you should have,” Valeana spoke, pursing her lips to contain her grin. “If only to sweeten our pallets from our otherwise bitter friendships with your brothers.” Daeron cocked his head, “Oh? Were they that troublesome?” “Ah, Prince Daeron, if only we had the time. A day could not even cover the bullying we had to endure at the hands of your elder brothers and nephews.” Daeron tisked, throwing Aegon a look, shaking his head...

Notes: Aegon, Avenger of Tits. Oh, and if you're interested in the playlist I made for Pink Dread, it's posted in the masterlist, or the direct link to the spotify list here

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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rainybubbles · 2 years ago

Text

How do COD men confess to you ?

Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, Alejandro

If you want more context here the part 1, and 2

G H O S T :

-At the end of your shift, he was waiting for you.

-And Max.

-Because Max was a cute puppy who stole his heart, but he would never tell a soul.

So yeah every day he wasn't on mission. He knew that at 10 pm, he will be at this little pet shop.

-Because he loved how your smile was appearing when you recognized him.

-He loved how you still joked about the ropes he bought or even how when he walked you back home, you were trying to go out of your way to make this walk longer by taking him to the little restaurant.

-This little restaurant, that you chose on purpose, because it has 4 fire escapes, and a perfect view on the outside.

-You knew him.

-And you didn't step back.

-Well in fact you didn't step back when he was just a creepy man who bought ropes at 3 AM, so he -sincerely doubts about your survival instinct.

-So yeah...

-But how did he confess, you're asking me ?

-Well, he didn't.

-Ghost has too many issues to open his heart like this.

-So you decided to make a moove.

-A classic move with a little declaration and a gift.

-Yeah.

-So you bought rope.

-Yeah.

-I know this doesn't sound good.

-It sounds even like the beginning of a horror story but wait.

-You decided to send him a package.

-And in this package you will put a rope tied in a heart form with a letter.

-Telling he took you heart in hostage and you would like him to keep it.

-...

-Seems weird, but it kinda fit your meeting, so it seems like a cute idea.

-Until three months passed and you had no news.

-Not even a letter.

-You didn't panic because sometimes his job was like this, he told you.

-But the problem was you had to move out.

-And even if he had your number, Ghost changed his phone regularly to prevent from some undercover shit.

-Besides your job at the pet shop, he couldn't contact you.

-So you tried to ignore your removal.

-But at the end of the fourth month, you had to admit this relationship will never had an end.

-And you mooved out of the country.

-A bittersweet ending.

-You felt like you were reading a fluff story but forgot to read the tag "hurt/no comfort".

-Shit.

-Maybe next time you should read the tag of your fucking love life.

-Like "a rope man will steal your heart" "angst" "sad ending" "slow burn" "fucking weird story" "not a happy fidelity card guy" "maybe he was into bondage but guess what ? We will never know lol"

-Maybe you were crying when you saw a rope in a DIY shop after this.

-Or not.

-Your dignity and ego will never recover from this memory. (neither did the sales assistant who was just here trying to help you)

-So you tried watching around, maybe the destiny would help you.

-Maybe a tall masked man will appear at your door at 2 PM, under the rain saying he has always loved you and....

-And you don't open the door for your own mom because you're too scared that she could be someone pretending she's your mom so you hoped he wouldn't do this.

-Yet two months after your removal, you had a call from your previous boss.

-You usually avoid calls, but you knew he wouldn't call you if it wasn't important.

-So you answered and...

-He was telling you a package with your name was delivered to him.

-And when you asked what was in it.

-He answered.

-"A fidelity card for rope, with a yes on it."

-You never smiled that hard.

-(Ghost found your new contacts thanks to Lasswell later, to confirm you both confessed to each other.)

S O A P :

-You had kept in touch.

-Through letters and some texts, when Soap was allowed to send them, you started to have a great friendship.

-But lately in the memes that Soap sent to you, you found a lot of references to the French girls in general.

-Firstly you didn't pay attention.

-Until that night.

-When you saw Titanic again with your parents.

-And it clicked.

-The French girls scene !

-By you stopped.

-Why would Soap make implicit reference to this ?

-Then again you remembered his drawings.

-He sent you some of them in his letters.

-When you get back to your home, you gathered them, looking if maybe he had made a portrait of you or had made a joke that you didn't see.

-But it was just random sketches.

-You stared at Ghost sketch eating an ice cream when you noticed something on his mask.

-He had a "W" on it.

-You searched through the sketches and...

-"U to the mow, I go you will" you said out loud after collecting the letters and tried to figure out what he wanted to say.

-And you tried to understand it.

-But except this fucking "mow" and "will"

-You didn't find any coherence in it.

-Did he want to ask you to mow his lawn in his garden ?

-But he didn't have a garden.

-And why a "U" and then a "You".

-Why, why Soap would even do this ?

-He was not the kinda guy that do this.

-"...I think I'm too stupid to find out this shit." you admitted.

-Well maybe your French girls scenes will not be romantic.

-So you texted him saying, you understood he sent you a message.

-But you didn't find how to translate it.

-And he texted you the answer.

-"Will you go out with me ?"

-...

-"Did Price give you the idea Soap ?" you answered.

-"Wait, you didn't answer."

-"Did Price give you the idea ?"

-"You think I couldn't be a romantic, love ?"

-"I think we're both too stupid to create a thing like this, love."

-"... it was L.T"

-"he...Ghost ?"

-"Yes."

-"...did he love titanic ?"

-"he had a collection about it."

-"...wow."

-"yeah."

-"To answer, yes, I would love too. But never ask again advice from Ghost, I don't want to end on an iceberg."

-"Yes, love."

P R I C E :

-Soap and Gaz with a broken arm led to your confession.

-They were both drunk and knew their captain had a thing for you, and it was reciprocated.

-Especially after Price offered you some chocolates to make clear he was interested in you.

-But nothing was happening.

-So with some scotch, and very bad ideas, Gaz and Soap decided that their time to shine had coming.

-They were the Cupids of the base.

-And what had Cupid ?

-Wings.

-If they used their wings to bring you from your office to Price at the bar, then he would be happy and more relaxed in this context, and maybe he will confess.

-Yes.

-Except.

-They didn't have wings.

-So when they jumped out from the roof.

-Their arms broke.

-And who was the doctor at the base ?

-You.

-You didn't go out because you were busy to treat their arms.

-"Maybe we need some bows next time." Soap whispered but it was more like he shouted in Gaz's ears.

-"And some white underwears! Cupid has that. I'm sure if we wore this, it will work for sure." Gaz answered.

-"And what about not jumping from the roof and not drinking that much, hmm ?" you asked.

-"Sssshhhh, we're in a confession plan right now. You can't stop us." Gaz said trying to put his finger on your mouth but ended up to do it on the wall next to you.

-"I'm calling Price to take you back to your bed, you're both too heavy for me."

-"We could walk."

-"It's not walking the problem Soap. It's where you could go."

-"hmm."

-So you called Price.

-The problem was he asked you why.

-Why did the boys jump out from the roof ?

-You blinked.

-He would know when he would come here.

-So you decided to gather some courage and-

-"They try to make us confess by bringing me to the bar with you. But they believe they were angels and could fly."

-The silence was so loud.

-He hung up.

-You sighed.

-Well at least, you said it.

-You didn't expect a yes, but at least an answer would be the minimum.

-When later, you heard a knock, you didn't make the effort to look up.

-You heard Price taking the boys to their beds and the door closing.

-But few minutes later, you heard a knock.

-Surprised, you stood up.

-Maybe someone else has drunk too much and-

-"John." You said surprised.

-"I intend to ask you out with some roses, and tomorrow but I guess two drunk soldiers with broken arms beat me."

-"The experienced strategist beat up ?" you joked.

-"I guess so. I'm sorry it was done like this, love."

-"I don't care honestly. As long as it's you asking me."

-He smiled and took your hand slowly.

-"Well, I can't wait for our first date, then."

-"'Hope Soap and Gaz will not be there."

-He laughed.

-"I can't promise that." he smiled.

G A Z :

-A meme.

-He sent you a meme.

-To confess.

-But you never answered him.

-And when he saw you, you never talked about it.

-So...he understood he was rejected.

-And he was okay with that, hell it was normal.

-He just thought it was reciprocated because you had what seems like dates with him.

-Maybe he mixed up signals.

-So he just never talked about it again, because he didn't want to make you feel awkward.

-But one day during lunch, he heard Soap talking with you.

-"So you got a new one, uh ?" Soap asked.

-"I didn't have the choice. His ass fucking destroyed the previous one."

-Gaz stared at the floor.

-He didn't know you had someone.

-Maybe that was because you never-

-"L.T has a cake, that's for sure." Soap joked.

-Gaz suffocated.

-You-

-And Ghost-

-And Ghost's ass-

-"That's not funny Soap. He fucking destroyed my phone just by sitting on it. It's not a cake. It's a fucking breeze block at this point."

-Your...

-Oh.

-oh.

-FUCK.

-He realized.

-You didn't ignore him.

-You hadn't see his message.

-"How does it happen ?" he asked to be sure of his conclusion.

-"I just let my phone on a bench, and he sat without looking, that's it. But because his ass is apparently more solid that my relationship with my father, or even the fucking Vivelle dop gel, he broke it."

-"Fuckin' hell". Gaz said

-"You can say that again. Why are you asking, by the way ?"

-"I sent you a text and you never answer, so I was wondering why."

-"Now you know. But I will answer, I manage to transfer my data and texts on my new phone."

-Gaz didn't feel well now.

-Soap was here.

-And your phone in your hand.

-Meaning he will see your reaction in live and with a public.

-Like he was on the set of a TV show. But here he could gain your heart and not $100,000.

-But you didn't say anything, neither did open it.

-You just sit and talked with him and Soap like it was not important.

-Because of course you couldn't know what was his text.

-So he waited.

-All the day, for you to open this fucking meme.

-To see it.

-And at midnight.

-He received a Mister Worlwide saying yes.

-Never he was so happy to see this bald head

A L E J A N D R O :

-He had everything planned.

-The moment, the place.

-It was going to be a big thing.

-He talked Rudy about it and even the 1-4-1 during a mission.

-Because Soap teased him about you.

-So he explained how he was going to ask you out and-

-Laswell stopped him.

-Their communications were not over.

-She heard everything

-And when Laswell ordered you to tell the location to Price

-He understood you were on their mission as a technician, and you heard all of it.

-The only thing that could kill Alejandro is Alejandro after all, right ?

-Even when it was dying of embarrassment.

-He mumbled some insults in Spanish and tried to hold his head high.

-He had everything planned, and just a microphone ruined this ?

-No,no, no, no he refused.

-He met you because of those mics, how they dare to betray him like that ?

-He ignored this and finished the mission.

-But on the way back, he heard your voice.

-"Good job guys. By the way I would love going on a date with you, Ale. If you needed to know after...this."

-You know the smile he did, when they interrogate Valeria ?

-It was one hundred brighter right now in the car.

-Soap even wore sunglasses to protect his eyes.

-Alejandro was so fucking happy.

-Maybe he did not hate the mics.

-Even though he's persuaded that someone hacked them this particular day.

___

If you want more : here.

I'm sorry that it took so long to post this part, but when I posted another COD about how you meet Farah, Alex and Konig I had a comment saying it was shit.

And I know my English sucks, so I deleted it and hesitated to write again..

Maybe I need some readers to help me, or maybe this comment was just hateful, I don't know.

In any case, sorry for the mistakes, English is not my first language !

#call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #captain price x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #soap x reader #cod x reader

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melodiclune · 5 months ago

Text

And Then There Were Two

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

@trafficzine 5th Edition: This is my piece!!! A retelling of the Pearl and Scar duel.

There's a secret task I had to follow writing this... can you tell what it is?? (Answer at the end of the piece.)

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

Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she’s done, had been for her Mounders, her loyalty had dictated it so.

Mumbo had died first, to the posts round the bend. Then Bdubs and Joel in the same fell swoop, barely a moment to process it, a tale of woe.

They left Pearl to ally with the one person on the server with no real friend. With Gem now gone, she already knew how this would go.

But when she offered Scar her life earlier, he opposed the idea vehemently. “I refuse. We go out together. I genuinely don’t want to win that much anyway,” he declared. Nobody else would know the pain and exhaustion fighting solo brought, honestly. And she had respected his words, looking ahead.

A duel he had wanted, so a duel he’d get, she thought, raising her sword unwillingly. Here, with just the two of them left, Scar looks at her, bow drawn.

The dogs had to go first, Scar decided. Pearl watches as he sets off the TNT, the shadow of her past win clasping her heart in phantom pain. With nobody left to die but them, Scar lets his arrow loose, resolute and undaunted. It lodges into her side, the sharp fall in her health telling how little time she had before she’d be slain.

She weaves in and out of the swarm of mobs, sword at the ready by her side as she laughs at the poetry. What a fight, between two crazed fools who remember the hollowness of living in total isolation. Neither of them fighting for the win, and their duel being the final one nothing short of irony. She darts away from the crowd of zombies and spiders, avoiding embers from their sunlit flames, but not escaping the fire in Scar’s expression.

His eyes are bright, filled with grief she recognises in herself. His shots fly everywhere, frantic just as he is. And there’s nothing she can do but mourn. In her emotional haze, her own sword strikes miss.

One of his determined arrows finally lands, square in her shoulder, the burning pain screaming from the force in the shot. She ignores the sting (it’s nothing she hasn’t felt before), turning to swipe her sword angled with the sunlight to start a fire. Scar makes a shocked sound, indignant as he douses himself with water, her strike all for naught. The numbness in her shoulder spreads; she can’t lift her arm high up now, her situation dire.

Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she had done, had been for her allies.

She sees the defensive instinct backing every action that only someone with no one has, and chooses to treat him as a friend. She sees the slow, deep breaths Scar takes, the breaks in his voice and forced banter, and identifies the weariness she once held in her own scarlet guise.

There’s gold fruit glinting in her inventory, all she needs to rejuvenate herself, with a quick bite and swallow. It’s all she needs to last longer than Scar, clearly exhausted from all his fights (victories) on their last day. Instead, she leaves it untouched, looking at the dance he wishes to lead with valor alone, choosing to follow. There is no doubt who remains standing after this, but she’s ready to accept her fate as it comes her way.

But then she gets a little too close, and he sets the TNT down in a quick moment that sends her heart into a fright. Swiftly backing away is all she can do, the boom behind her loud and terrifying. It’s enough to have her disregard all logic, expression lighting up in a mirror of his desperation, and she turns her sword into him with all her might. But it’s enough for Scar to strike another arrow into her heart, brutal and damning.

Arrow after arrow, swipe after swipe, they trade blows, but Pearl knows he has more health than she does. His kill on Gem had ensured it. Her measly two and a half hearts wouldn’t last her much longer, and so she raises her shield as she goes. He draws another arrow from his diminishing quiver, lips pulled into a thin line as he sets it loose, only for Pearl to counter the hit.

“Behind you,” he says, tone lined with concern that Pearl knows to doubt.

A split-second long look back, and then she’s turning back with the smallest smile on her face.

“Oh, you really tried it right now,” she replies, but she sees something worth calling out.

His call may have been fake, but hers are something he ought to listen to with grace.

“You better look behind you,” she starts carefully, voice lined with concern she knows he’s not going to trust easy. “Uh Scar, look behind you. I’m serious.”

To his credit, he does, however uneasy.

But it’s frenzied in a way that she knows means he’s scared of turning his back to her, and she can’t blame him. He misses the zombie, choosing to aim one of his incredible arrows straight at her. She skips across quickly, shield at the ready as the projectile sails past her, but the margin is slim. And yet, after everything, she wants him to be safe, for his victory to occur.

“Behind you Scar,” she starts, but it’s too late. He’s nocked another arrow, and this time it lands its mark with ease. It sends her flying back, and she knows it’s time for her to meet her fate.

“Ah, jeez.”

Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she had done, had been for the people she loves with loyalty.

It’s inevitable, how she falls into the ravine she missed earlier, truly something to reprehend. (The same, frantic turn Scar had done, and suddenly she realises why it felt so familiar to see.) A chuckle barely leaves her lips, oddly subdued. Things had gone just as she wanted them to, and the fall makes her feel oddly free.

Pearl never wanted to make it to the end.

Everything she did, had been so that nobody would ever be as alone as she was, in this terrible game that stole their spark.

Before she hits the ground, she can only hope Scar sees the zombie that’s making its way towards him without prelude.

And then she does hit the ground, and all is dark.

#traffic zine #life series #melodies #secret life #secret life smp #pearlescentmoon #goodtimeswithscar

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deadpoetsargas · 4 months ago

Text

Last wishes | jegulus & pandalily & wolfstar | mature | 1k words

Lily watched in slow motion as the curse hit James in the chest.

For one moment, one singular moment, they were invincible, her, James, Sirius and Remus. They were fighting Death eaters, feeling the adrenaline rushing through their veins powering them on. They were unyielding, and unflinching, they fought like they wanted their lives, because they did. Sirius was firing spells left and right, Remus had his back like he was born to do so. Lily was holding her own effortlessly. At least she was, that was until someone shot a spell at her that she couldn’t block, just having fired her own at another Death eater who she was fighting with.

“Lily!” James shouted, throwing his body in front of hers, preventing the spell from hitting her. It hit him instead. Lily’s eyes widened, the spark from the curse reflecting in them, as she watched James fall down.

It wasn’t Avada Kedavra.

No, The Death eaters weren’t that merciful.

But oh, Lily recognised that spell, it was the spell that ended one of her very first friendships. It was the spell that someone very dear to her came excitedly rushing to show her, only for her to say it was too dark of a spell and that he needed to forget about it. Lily was right, it was a horrid spell, one could say almost worse than Avada Kedavra, because it caused death, but not a merciful one, no. Regretfully, obvious now, that he hadn’t forgotten it. Instead, he used it now, to hurt her. It felt worse than a betrayal, somehow, it felt like ripping her heart to shreds. He said he wished her no harm, he said he wanted to protect her. Up until now, Lily has still saved a place in her heart for him.

Because even after everything, Lily loved, so purely, so fiercely, and she cared for him, she did. Not like he wanted her to, but in her own way. Her love was stong, a protector in it’s own right, always there to support her loved ones. Her love knew no bounds, she loved those scraped and those who scraped, those dressed and those naked, people’s minds of all colours.

She thought them beautiful.

Lily Evans did not hate, she did not have it in her heart to do so, she thought there was no one truly deserving of it. But she knew he would never hurt her, and she knew him smart, so she understood. Understood that the curse wasn’t meant for her, it was meant for James, it was always meant for James. Because he saw James near her, protecting her, and he knew that James would jump in front of her, protecting her until his dying breath.

It was in that moment, that Lily felt hatred for the first time.

And it wasn’t burning, like some people described it to be, it was cold, unforgivingly so. It froze and kept freezing, turning her blood to ice, her heart to stone.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t feel falling to her knees to be at James' side, her eyes not registering the cuts going all over his torso and the blood gushing from them. Maybe that’s why she didn’t even notice the Death eaters pulling away, pulling back. Maybe that’s also why she noticed SIrius screaming like his soul was just ripped from his body, Remus holding him tightly with his own tears in his eyes.

“R–”

Lily had never looked somewhere faster in her entire life. She looked down at James, who was desperately trying to say something, but couldn't because of the wound at his neck.

“Re–g–ss…”

Regulus.

And Lily understood.

Their forbidden romance, the one neither of them ever moved on from. Lily knew James didn’t love her, just the same way she didn’t love him that way. They were probably soulmates in another universe, but in this one, James looked for silver eyes and black curls everywhere, while Lily wished to every star that she would star in a certain someone’s crystals. They were meant to hold each other, but not like lovers.

And she wasn’t mad. How could she be mad at a dying man’s last wish? She could only hope she had someone of her own to hold her in her last dying breaths. And if she saw flashes of white hair and pale blue eyes, then nobody could blame her.

“Sirius,” she whispered, but even the nature seemed to hear her, with how silent everything was, as if the Sun had burned out in itself, “Call Regulus.”

And then Sirius understood too. And he wasn’t mad either. There was no time for that.

Wand still in hand, he summoned his Patronus, a beautiful full-grown wolf, but not before struggling to find a happy memory when it seemed like all light had gone out. Lily congratulated him, knowing she herself would never be able to cast a Patronus now. Sirius told the Patronous to get Regulus, and then walked closer to James' dying body, sitting down on the dirt and mud. Remus followed him.

They sat, tears in each of their eyes, and they waited.

. . .

Somewhere far away, the Patronus got lost, running desperately around a cave, trying to deliver the message. Somehow, even it knew it was of great moment that Regulus got there.

But Regulus it could not find.

. . .

Lily, could feel the moment James’ heart stopped. It was something deep inside her, that just.. disappeared. The lights had gone out, the music was cut off, and everything just stopped. And in his last moment, she did not pity James for dying, she pitied him for dying without his love, his soul. Maybe if Regulus was here, James’ heart could find a purpose to keep beating.

It was in that same moment when James’ heart stopped that the last gust of air left Regulus’ lungs, instead filling with water.

. . .

In the end, both James and Regulus got their happy ending, because they did not have to spend even a moment without one another. From their last moments on Earth, to their first moments in the sky, to the eternity that awaited them.

Show this fic some love on ao3!

#marauders #ao3 #dead gay wizards #fanfic #sirius black #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #jegulus #angst #dont @ me #leaving this here and running away 🏃‍♀️#im not sorry #i made myself cry

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penny00dreadful · 3 months ago

Text

CW for this chapter on AO3

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 4/ AO3

As luck would have it, the river spat them out close to a Bedouin trading post, allowing Eddie to get decently dressed and allowing both Steve and Robin to charm the hell out of a few of the traders there.

Though Eddie would like to petulantly insist, even in his own mind, that it was all Robin, conversing easily with them in one of the many, many tongues she spoke, he couldn’t deny that Steve was getting his fair share of pinched cheeks.

But their charm got them all the equipment they could ever need for an expedition through the desert as well as a few camels to get them there. Eddie was honestly a little nervous about it.

Though this was what he had dreamed about ever since he was a little boy, listening to his mothers stories in front of the fire back in Indiana, he had never actually ventured out into a barren desert before.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud but he was thankful that he was here with Steve and Robin. They seemed far more familiar with it all and far more resilient than he had given them credit for and he knew that Robin at least, wouldn’t leave him to burn up into a crisp of a human being out on the sand.

Travelling on camelback was both similar enough to, and nothing at all like, travelling on horseback.

Which was to say, Eddie wasn’t the best at it, but he made do.

He got better as time went on and boy did time go on.

By the time they had reached their destination (a nondescript point in the sand that Eddie could see nothing unique about, but that both Robin and Steve seemed to make a beeline for) they had been travelling for about forty hours.

He was half asleep on his camel, he was hot, there was sand everywhere and he was god damn thirsty all the time.

But as Robin and Steve stared out into the darkness of early morning, they heard hoofbeats approaching.

It was the Cowboys and that one Tommy guy that Steve seemed to have a contentious relationship with.

Eddie was definitely not curious about it at all.

He didn’t care what kind of history they had.

He didn’t.

And anyway, it wasn’t his business so…

He didn’t care.

Evidently, neither did Steve because he just sent a short glare towards Tommy before looking back out over the desert.

“Bet you $500 we make it to the city first.” One of their opposing party said, a blonde, curly headed guy that Eddie was pretty sure was called Billy.

Steve rolled his eyes with a little scoff. “Yeah, sure.”

The other group definitely had numbers on their side. What looked to be at least thirty locals on their own horses, all of them just as confused as Eddie and the Cowboys about why they were just standing around to… what?

Watch the sunrise or something?

The only ones who looked like they knew what they were waiting for were Steve, Robin and Tommy.

“Get ready for it.”

Eddie turned to look at Steve.

“For what?”

He nodded back out towards the horizon, adjusting the reins in his hand. “We’re about to be shown the way.”

Slowly, the sky turned warmer, the sun peeking up over the edge of the world, and something shifted in Eddie’s periphery.

A mirage formed in the sand in front of them, a great swirling image, an illusion like a ruined city taking shape out of water and heat vapour but… it has to just be an illusion, right?

Except no, it couldn’t be because it had stopped fucking swirling and now… now there was just a large, towering and crumbling city standing in the sand ahead of them.

Before Eddie even had a chance to comprehend what the fuck was happening, there was a shout from Tommy and everyone had set off, full tilt towards the ruins.

Despite Eddie’s slow start, he refused to lose to Steve’s… ex or his fucking adversary or like… whatever unrequited love nonsense that was going on there.

Not that he cared but he just didn’t want to fucking lose.

He needn’t have worried anyway. His camel seemed to be his best friend and before he knew it, he was pulling ahead of everyone.

Honestly, it probably had more to do with the fact that the others had ended up trying to shove each other from their saddles in order to get there first.

Robin probably would have won if she’d tried, but she was having the time of her life just riding on a running camel, a wild smile on her face and a hand in the air.

She didn’t care.

So Eddie was the one who got all the glory and he got a good first look at everything around him.

Like most ruins in Egypt, it was a fuck ton of sand, broken and buried monuments sticking out of the ground and not much else. No visible way to get to the rest of the ruins sitting below.

But off in the distance, he noticed a statue of Anubis, staring at him, practically calling him forward, half entombed, only his head and shoulders visible.

It was out of the way and the Cowboys had already begun to settle along the most obvious entrance, probably where they thought they’d find the most treasure, but this Anubis statue…

In theory Anubis would be guarding the chamber where this mysterious Book of Amun-Ra was kept, so Eddie powered forward, expecting Steve and Robin to follow, which they did.

They looked at him curiously as he circled the statue but didn’t argue with him. Apparently they trusted his knowledge well enough to just go along with it and he tried not to get too puffed up with pride about it.

Just as he had read about, there were large metal circles, needing to be polished, dotted around the statue and he explained to Steve and Robin, but mostly to Steve (Robin had read a lot of the same books as him after all) that these were mirrors to be used to reflect the sunlight and illuminate the passages below, easily accessible, hidden under one of the disks.

Steve had a pensive look on his face, like he was listening but not really taking it in, his mind far away on something else.

Eddie rolled his eyes and figured he could leave the rest of the explanation up to Robin if the guy couldn’t even be bothered to listen to him.

Just before he turned he saw Robin deliver a kick to Steve’s leg and he grinned to himself a little with it.

But only a moment later he felt something nudge against his arm.

When he turned back again, Steve was standing in front of him, unusually bashful and holding out a cloth roll to him.

“For you.”

Eddie took the roll in his hands, feeling the weight and heft, looking back up at Steve, confused.

“It’s something I— uh… borrowed from the others—”

“The Cowboys.” Eddie interrupted with a little snort.

Steve’s shoulders were practically up around his ears and his hands were stuffed into his pockets. “Right. Yeah uh… the Cowboys. I just… thought you might like it— I mean need it so um…. Yeah. Just- y’know. Uh. Yeah.”

Eddie blinked at him, mouth hanging a little open, not sure in any way what to do with what just happened.

Steve glanced down, his eyes resting on Eddie’s slightly parted lips for barely a second before he turned and almost scampered away, practically hiding himself behind Robin and pretending to busy himself with the ropes.

Unrolling the cloth in his hands, Eddie found himself looking down at a small archeological kit, scrapers, hammers, chisels and a few brushes. Everything he could need.

There was a blush rising up on his face and he too had to turn away to hide it.

It only took a few more minutes before Steve had the rope ready to swing them down into the cavern below.

Eddie was fucking ecstatic. He was here. He was fucking doing the damn thing, finally getting to explore the places he’d dreamed about for so long.

He practically bounced over to a metal disk on a stand and after he had brushed the cobwebs away and with Robin’s help, shifted it a little to the side enough to catch the light of the other mirrors above, reflecting the sun.

The chamber was lit with a gentle glow and Eddie was practically vibrating with energy, staring around him in wonder.

“Do you realise,” he almost whispered into the quiet of the ancient underground chamber, “that we are standing where people have not stood for over 3,000 years?”

His wide eyes landed back on Steve, who was not looking around the ancient and unexplored chamber, but was instead watching him for some fucking reason.

Robin was off to the side, having her own moment of excitement, wide eyes drinking in everything around her.

Eddie looked up and around as well, finally realising what kind of room they had landed in.

“It’s a seh-netjer, a preparation room.” He told the two of them and Robin nodded along. “For the journey into the afterlife.”

“Preparing what? Mummies?” Steve asked, hand twitching up like he was going to grab his gun.

Eddie rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to disparage anyone’s superstitions but what was Steve going to do? Shoot a mummy?

Without a glance back, he headed off down a corridor, the two of them following behind and Robin confirming to Steve that yeah, mummies.

“Eddie!” Steve called after him, his voice echoing around the hallway. “Don’t run off.”

Eddie just snorted, opening his mouth, intending to quip back that his uncle had been telling him not to run off since he was a little kid and it had never worked then so why would it work now, but he didn’t have a chance to speak a word.

A sudden loud and skin crawling chittering started up around them, surrounding them, seeming to come from inside the walls.

Eddie flinched back but he didn’t let it deter him from continuing to move forward, only sparing a passing glance over his shoulder to the other two with a light “Bugs, probably.”

He didn’t miss the grim as fuck look Steve and Robin shared, but he put it to the back of his mind.

He didn’t think Robin was the superstitious type, but maybe she was just humouring her friend.

Either way, that was far less important than the looming bottom half of a statue in front of them.

The head of Anubis was above the ground overhead and now Eddie was staring at the god’s legs and his plinth with almost childlike excitement.

He had only gotten close enough to touch it when the sound of echoing voices further down the corridor drifted towards him and he found himself silently shoved into it, his back hitting the stone and again, sandwiched in between Steve and Robin, who both loosened a gun from one of their holsters and cocked them, holding them aloft, while Eddie was stuck holding his archeology tools and the torch.

Though he was not willing to be left out again, he hastily stuffed the tools in his cross body bag and reached across Steve’s body to pull his other gun from his chest holster and followed suit, cocking it and holding it aloft.

Steve turned to glare at him and Eddie shot back the very grown up response of sticking his tongue out.

When a small stone skittered towards them, kicked by something, all three of them took it as their queue to jump out, guns raised and ready for whatever was on the other side of the statue.

They found themselves faced down with more barrels, many more than the three they had.

The Cowboys.

There was a pause of only about a second where they were all deciding whether they needed to keep the guns up or not, but with one charming flash of Steve’s pearly whites, they were all grinning at each other, shrugging their shoulders like this was the funniest thing in the world and slowly letting their hands drop.

“Hey!” Shouted one bespectacled member of the other party, Eddie thought his name might have been Fred, glaring down at the archeological tools Steve had stolen, sticking out of Eddie’s bag. “Those are mine!”

Steve and Robin had their guns back up in a flash. Steve’s mouth was in a hard line and Eddie was too slow to react at the same time they had, his own gun still limply at his side while the two of them practically shouldered in front of him.

“I don’t think so.” Steve’s tone of voice was snappish and mean while also managing to be entirely too confident, but it still had something warm growing inside Eddie’s chest to be…what? Defended? Protected by Steve?

God, no. No, no, no.

The Cowboys raised their own guns again in response and they were back at square one while Fred visibly backed down, muttering out a quick “Perhaps I was mistaken.”

“Well it’s been lovely seeing you fellas,” Eddie poked his head out over Steve and Robin’s bracketed shoulders, “but we’ve got work to do so—”

“Fuck off.” Billy scoffed, not taking Eddie’s demands seriously at all. “This is our site.”

“You fuck off!” Eddie snapped back. “We got here first!”

Billy laughed back, condescending and demeaning, eyes sliding off Eddie completely and instead over to Steve, like Eddie wasn’t even worth conversing with.

Eddie would have usually taken extreme offence to it, because he was a fantastic conversationalist if he did say so himself, but his eye had been caught by a gap in the floor.

He nudged his shoe over it, listening hard for the small rocks he’d kicked in and hearing them echo as they fell, telling him there were rooms or chambers of some kind below.

“C’mon Harrington.” Tommy grinned at him, an attempt at the same charm Steve exuded without even trying, nudging his head around at the guns levelled towards the three, clearly outnumbered. “Your odds aren’t looking so good.”

In response, both Robin and Steve glanced at each other, guns still held aloft. They smirked at each other, cocky and sure in themselves before turning their eyes back to Tommy.

“We’ve had worse.” They said in unison, arms never wavering.

The tension was ratcheting up and if Eddie didn’t do something immediately it would explode over. He hoped his hunch turned out right.

“Okay!” He said, coming around to Steve’s other side, so he was no longer sandwiched in between the two. “Have we had enough of the dick measuring, Buckley included?” Eddie placed a hand on Steve’s bare forearm, feeling the hair underneath and his fingers closing over the thin and delicate skin along the inside. “There’s no reason we can’t share, right? There are other places to dig.”

Steve’s eyes were boring into his own, searching but not questioning. Immediately trusting and Eddie had no idea what he had done to earn that kind of trust but he was thankful he had it.

Eddie’s risk paid off, thank christ. There was a chamber below.

Based on his calculations, the plinth Anubis was resting on was directly above them and if they continued to dig upwards, they should pop up right between his legs.

He said as much to Robin and Steve as all three of them had their various tools in hand to chip away at the ceiling above them.

“Right between his legs?” Robin asked, her pickaxe lodged unmoving above her. “That’s something you’d be used to, right, Munson?”

Eddie scowled, shoving at her shoulder and she allowed the momentum to carry her a few steps back, laughing.

With a hop back up, she grabbed her pickaxe with two hands and dangled from it, trying to pull it back out.

“When those men are finished swinging the dicks around and thumping on their chests, no offence,” She aimed the last part at Steve and Eddie who both waved her off, “we’ll be able to steal that book, right out from under them.”

Steve was standing next to him, both arms raised over his head and muscles flexing as he gripped Robin’s pickaxe with her and tried to pull it out.

It still wouldn’t budge.

“You’re sure this compartment is in there?” Steve grunted.

Eddie had to close his mouth. He hadn’t even been aware it had been hanging open. He was only able to nod as Steve looked over his shoulder at him.

After a solid hour of all three of them trying to yank the pickaxe out, they decided that a break was in order. So while Steve and Robin sat and cleaned their weapons, trying to get all the dust and sand out, Eddie was left pacing up and down the room, quite literally kicking rocks and trying to find something to entertain himself.

Eventually he just ended up rambling at the two of them.

“And that’s not even the most fun part. The brain has to come out too and it’s a really, really delicate process because if the person doing it isn’t skilled or like… careful enough, they could cave the whole face in and you need your face in the afterlife, right?”

Eddie turned on his heel, starting his trek back up the room. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Steve’s gaze following him with a look of disgusted horror.

“So, what? They just pop the top of your skull open to get the brains out?”

“Oh no.” Eddie shook his head. “They pull them out through the nose–”

“—Excuse me, the nose?!”

“Yeah.” Eddie turned again, making his way back. “Then the other organs get removed and dried out. Depending on what dynasty you’re talking about then they’ll be put in the canopic jars, except the heart. The heart gets put back inside. Then they’ll rinse your body with wine and spices–”

“That part doesn’t sound so bad.”

Steve wasn’t even pretending to work on his weapons anymore, he was just openly watching Eddie as he traipsed up and down.

“You won’t be feeling any part of it.” He waved his hand in Steve’s direction. “It’s mummification. You’ll be dead.”

“Okay, well. For the record, if I die down here, don’t put me down for mummification.”

Eddie couldn’t help the little snort that came out of him.

“You think you’re important enough to deserve mummification, Stevie?” He grinned, coming to a stop in front of him. “Are you a Pharaoh? Nobility? A priest? A King?”

Steve just shrugged, blinking up at him with an upturned curl of his mouth. “I might be.”

“Well then, King Steve, I hope the afterlife accepts you as such.”

Robin pushed herself to her feet with a roll of her eyes and a heavy sigh.

“You two are insufferable.” She said, walking around them to tap her hand against the pickaxe still in the ceiling.

She had no sooner made contact with it when there was the sudden and loud sound of crumbling above them and in the next second something heavy and huge had fallen into their chamber and Eddie couldn’t see anything anymore.

He stumbled back, his lungs and eyes filled with dust and the loud crash scaring the everloving shit out of him.

His heel hit something and then he was falling, tumbling backwards. But before he could hit the ground there was something solid and warm behind him, arms around his waist and he was being pulled, dragged away from the still settling cloud surrounding them.

“Robbie!”

It was the most panicked Eddie had heard Steve sound in the few days he’d known him and it was both terrifying and a little comforting to know he was at least a little human.

“I’m good!” Her voice called back from the opposite side of whatever had fallen through the ceiling.

Eddie blinked his eyes a few more times and when he was finally able to take in what was in front of him, he practically jumped out of Steve’s arms and started flitting around it like an excited bee.

“Oh my god.” Eddie ran his fingers over the top of the large stone coffin that had practically fallen into their laps. “It’s a sarcophagus.” He looked up.

The base of Anubis was visible above them, still enclosed. Clearly the other Cowboys hadn’t gotten in yet.

Across the top, where a title or name should have been inscribed were the words “He who shall not be named.”

Eddie blinked down at it.

“Pretty ominous to put on your final resting place, don’t you think?” He asked, with a glance up at Robin who was also examining it with an almost singular focus. “He was either someone very important or very bad. Anubis must have either been escorting him to the afterlife or keeping a close eye on him.”

Steve nodded along absently, his eyes trained on an indentation he’d just blown some sand out of.

“There's some sort of mechanism here.” He tapped it. “These things are made of—?”

“Granite with a cobalt lining.”

“Well.” Robin rested her hands on her hips. “Whoever’s in here, they sure didn’t want him getting out.”

Steve leaned in a little closer, getting a good look at the indentation. “Looks like… it needs a key or something?”

Eddie snapped his fingers, startling the other two. “They guy! The guy on the boat!” Without a second of hesitancy, he plunged his hand into Robin’s pocket and pulled the puzzle box out. “He was asking about a key!”

Robin grumbled at him groping her, as if that had been his goal. Eddie ignored her, popping the puzzle box open, fitting it onto the lock, anticipation fizzing through his veins.

Just as he tightened his fingers, gripping the key and intending to turn it, the sound of a scream echoed through the corridor behind them.

Steve was off like a shot, practically being called to action, Robin hot on his heels.

Eddie glanced back down at the puzzle box, momentarily wondering if he could get away with staying and turning it, before stuffing it into his pocket and following the two out.

He didn’t get very far, just barely at the entrance to the room they were in before he was held back by a hand on his chest.

He could hear the screaming getting closer, the sound of raw terror and fear that did something unspeakable to his lizard brain, telling it to run, hide, help.

Rapid footsteps approached and one of the Cowboy party came running at them, pelting down the corridor like the devil himself was on his ass.

He didn’t slow down as he passed them, didn’t even notice that there were people around him or that he was running full speed towards a dead end.

With a sickening crunch, the force met the object, the guy practically running head first into the wall and crumpling to the ground like a sack of potatoes, still and unmoving.

Not even breathing.

Eddie felt like he couldn’t catch his breath in sympathy.

He couldn’t tear his gaze away, his eyes stuck wide and unblinking as his brain tried to comprehend what had just happened in front of him.

He didn’t stop looking when Robin gently tugged him against her, he didn’t stop looking as Steve moved away, kneeling down to check the guy over and allowing his hands to fall back to his sides after pressing two fingers into his neck.

He could only look away when he was physically turned away by the two, escorting him slowly out of their underground cavern, muttering to him that he just needed some fresh air, held tight between them.

Eddie stared into the fire with his back to the distant party of Cowboys at their own camp.

He couldn’t watch them mourn their friend. He couldn’t watch them figure out how they would transport his body back.

He couldn’t watch some of their party leave with him to bring him back to his family.

Maybe that made him a coward, but right now, he didn’t really care.

He hated not having answers to things and this was one of the big ones he was in the dark about:

They had no idea what had happened to him.

In addition to that, as Steve settled himself down gently at Eddie’s side, a hand running up and down his back, he told both himself and Robin that it hadn’t been the only death of the day.

Turned out the Cowboys had tried to get into the plinth of Anubis and a few of them had fallen victim to the infamous ancient Egyptian booby traps.

They had ended up being sprayed with salt acid, killing them.

“Seems like standard shenanigans for a cursed land.” Robin muttered to herself.

Both she and Steve were shockingly unaffected. It wasn’t that they were uncaring, they just seemed to be taking the deaths much more in stride than Eddie was.

Like ancient boody traps and mysterious death were all business as usual.

Eddie rolled his eyes at her.

The land wasn’t cursed.

There was an explanation for all of this.

Though it might not be obvious to them right now, there was always an answer.

Steve bumped their shoulders together.

“You don’t believe in curses?” He asked with a little grin, apparently trying to lighten the mood but the jury was out on whether he was succeeding or not.

“We’ve been over this King Steve. I don’t. It’s a ridiculous notion. There’s nothing out there. If I can see it and feel it, then it’s real. If it’s not, then it’s not.”

“That’s a cute idea, but–” Steve picked up a large firearm he’d called an elephant gun in demonstration, “–I believe in being prepared.”

Eddie laughed a little to himself with a small shrug, trying to stop the fizzing in his belly. Despite how much Steve grated against him, his steadfast conviction was at least a little endearing.

“I think I know how I can liven up this party, if you’ll excuse the gallows humour.” Robin flashed the two of them a grin before producing a bottle of Seagrams whiskey from behind her back. “A gift from our Cowboy friends as a thank you for…” She waved her hand around, trying to find the right words without appearing too insensitive, “... being with him at the end.”

She looked at the two of them, waiting for one of them to make a move but when they both just continued to watch her, she shrugged and popped the bottle open herself.

No sooner had she raised it to her lips than Steve tilted his head, ever so slightly, listening out for something behind them and Robin almost dropped the bottle, straightening up and grabbing for her own gun.

The three of them sat frozen, Eddie’s eyes darting between the two, waiting for something to happen because he could hear nothing.

In one swift movement, Steve had shoved the giant elephant gun into Eddie’s arms and jumped to his feet, loosening his two revolvers from their holsters and he was gone.

Eddie was left staring after him open mouthed, nearly falling backwards when Robin jumped over the fire to follow Steve out of their camp, her own guns ready.

Eddie’s mouth hung open, awkwardly clutching onto the gun in his hands and it was only then that he heard the hoofbeats rapidly approaching, when they were almost in the camp and not a second later, the first gunshot went off.

He didn’t know if it was the Cowboys who had fired it or if it was fired at the Cowboys but either way, Eddie couldn’t just sit there.

The gun was fucking heavy and cumbersome and honestly Eddie wouldn’t still be holding it if it didn’t feel like a safety blanket to have amongst the shouts and whinnies and gunfire going on around him.

It was fucking chaos.

Dark hooded men atop their horses in an all out gunfight with the Cowboys and, of course, Steve and Robin right in the middle with them, a singular focus on both of their faces, like old veterans.

Eddie was stuck, staring at the carnage around him and had no idea what to do.

Should he jump in and help? Should he drop and hide?

The decision was taken away from him when he spotted one of the men on horseback spot him and make a bee-line for him.

With his heart thundering in his chest and his throat closing up in fear, Eddie fiddled with the gun in his hands, somehow managing to cock it in his panic.

The two of them raised their guns at the same time and Eddie made what was probably not the best decision of his life.

He squeezed his eyes closed and pulled the trigger.

It was like he’d been hit by a fucking train.

The kickback took him clean off his feet and the shock of the sudden and extremely loud noise so close to him stole his breath away.

He sailed backwards, landing hard into the sand, chest aching, ears ringing, dizzy and unable to get a good breath in.

The stars above him swam and it felt like it took an entire age to get a good lungful of air.

He didn’t know where the gun had landed. He didn’t really fucking care. He didn’t want to go near it again.

God damn it, he just wanted to find some buried artefacts, why was this turning into a whole thing?

A face came into focus above him, dashing hair and moles and hazel eyes, looking down on him in worry.

Eddie found himself being pulled to his feet with careful hands, arms holding him tight and close, steadying him as he was still swaying a little.

The camp was quiet and a light breeze danced over them, like nothing had happened. Eddie would have thought nothing had happened if the chaos of hoofprints weren’t still visible in the sand and the smell of gunpowder wasn’t surrounding them.

“Are you alright?”

Steve took his chin gently between his fingers, tilting his face back and forth, looking for any sign of injury.

There were knuckles brushing over his cheek and the slightest touch against his bottom lip and Steve was looking at him, eyebrows slightly raised, waiting for an answer.

Eddie’s responding exhale was shuddering, escaping out through his parted mouth and he swallowed.

“I’m okay.”

Eddie was so not okay.

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 4/ AO3

Happy birthday @hbyrde36

My biggest thanks and much love to @pearynice and @hitlikehammers for the beta work with this and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation!

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #stranger things fic #ao3 #the mummy au #eddie as evie #steve as rick #enemies to lovers #the mummy #1920s

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