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aemondapologistfrfr · 1 month

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Let Me Show You

aegon x sister!reader x aemond

The Usual Part 2 but can def be read alone!

Summary: Aegon and Aemond know they’re on your mind since the other night and take pleasure in watching you blush and avoid them. Aegon has a couple tricks for them to help you find sleep, which has been escaping you the past couple of days.

Warnings: 18+ masturbation, oral(f + m receiving), p in v, orgasm denial, overstimulation, double penetration, swearing

Authors Note: no plot again :) like none x

Word Count: 2.4k

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

It’s only been a couple of days since our rendezvous in the pleasure house but it’s all I can think about. My cheeks burn every time I’m in their presence and they just smirk at me. I don’t know if they’re waiting for me to go up to them but I can’t seem to find the courage. I just avoid eye contact and hope they don’t feel my absolute want pouring off of my body.

“The maester said you’ve been having trouble finding sleep?” our mother looks to me from across the dinner table.

“Yes,” I clear my throat. “I may seek a sleeping draft tonight if it still escapes me.” my voice barely a whisper as I drag my eyes to my mothers.

“We can help tire you out.” Aegon leans in and murmurs in my ear causing my cheeks to heat.

I try to focus on my dinner as Aegon slowly scoots my chair closer to him. His hands travel up my thigh and I scold myself for wishing he was beneath my skirts. I clench my thighs together as I feel a deeper blush creeping up my neck. I hear Aegon chuckle next to me and I look up and see that Aemond is staring at us with a smirk on his lips.

“I wish I could eat you for dinner.” Aegons voice is low and taunting before he sips on his wine. I have to swallow my whimper at his words and steel myself.

“I’m not feeling well, I’m going to retire to my chambers for the night.” I stand abruptly and my mother looks to me.

“Are you okay?” her brows scrunch as she looks at me with concern.

“I just need to lay down.” I shake my head leaving the halls in a rush.

My slippered feet pad up the stairs rushing past the guards standing sentry. I push into my chambers and slam the doors behind me. I start pulling my dress off my flushed body as I begin to overheat. Once I’m left in my slip I collapse to the bed in a huff. I’m not risking going to a pleasure house again so my fingers will have to do for the night.

I lean back into the pillow and squeeze my eyes shut. I ghost my hands over my nipples pretending their Aemonds soft touch. I cry out as I pinch one as my hips grind into nothing. I trail my other hand down my navel and slip a tantalizing finger through my wetness teasing myself. The second I swirl my fingers around my bud a whimper escapes my lips.

“Aegon,” his name slips from my mouth before I can stop it.

My fingers speed up their movements and I offer rough touches to my chest to imitate both of them. My hips chase my hand as I allow both of their names to fall from my lips. I get lost in my touch and pleasure, allowing my chambers to fade from around me.

“Fuck, please Aemond,” my voice cracks as I dip a finger inside myself. I feel my pleasure coiling as my hips keep pushing off the bed. Whimpers fall from my mouth as I slip a second finger in and shutter.

“Gods I can’t watch anymore.” I jump back into the headboard as I snap my eyes open and see Aegon smirking next to Aemond who’s stalking over to the bed.

“How long have you both been here?” my voice squeaks as Aemond crawls over me.

“Long enough to hear how badly you need us to help you.” he chuckles dipping his head down to capture my lips as his fingers slide through my wetness.

“Remember what I said brother.” Aegon chuckles coming to sit next to us on the bed and watches as I writhe beneath Aemond.

“I don’t see the point.” Aemond sighs removing his fingers from me leaving me wanting for release.

“Let me show you.” Aegon grins licking his lips. “How badly do you want to come my sweet sister?” his voice low as he pushes two fingers into my core.

“Very badly, Aegon, please,” I mewl bucking my hips into his hand.

He starts pumping his fingers into me and circles his thumb around my slick bud. Sharp pants fall from my lips as I chase my high. My legs begin to shake and he pulls his hand away and laughs at my frustrated whine.

“What’s wrong?” his licks his fingers watching me.

“Why did you stop?” I pout reaching out for his hand.

“I didn’t feel like you wanted it enough.” I fist the sheets at his words and turn my eyes to Aemond pleading.

“Aem, please,” my voice soft as I blink to him.

“I’ll see what I can do.” he starts to dip down my body leaving a trail with his tongue.

“Brother if you let her come I’ll make sure you don’t.” Aegons voice carries a sense of authority that has me clenching my thighs together.

“Mm hear that? Aegon thinks he’s in charge tonight.” he chuckles as he licks along my thighs.

“Aemond please,” I buck my hips up into his face.

He licks through my wetness and I sigh falling back into my pillow. Aegon turns my head with his hands and locks me into a rough kiss. His teeth nip at my lip as I grind against Aemonds face. My whimpers become more high pitched as I feel my pleasure coiling. Aegon pulls off of me and tries to push Aemond from between my legs.

“Aemond,” his voice is firm as he tangles his fingers roughly in his smooth locks. My legs start to shake and I begin arching off the bed. Just a couple more swirls and-

“I know when to stop.” Aemond lifts up from me and I let out a strangled cry.

“Please, please, I’ll be good please,” tears slip down my cheeks.

“I know you will.” Aegon chuckles lowly. I wipe my cheeks as he comes into view undressed. My legs open wider as I take in his length and he looks at me with dark eyes.

“Let her come, Aegon.” Aemond has a serpentine smile as he looks at my squirming body.

“Not yet.” he shakes his head before he dips down over me. “Gunna use this tight cunt for my pleasure.” he shoves into my core and I sob as he splits me open.

He ruts into me while moans pour from my mouth. I try to grab onto him but he holds my hands to the bed while he slams his hips. I try to control my whimpers hoping he won’t know that I’m about to burst. I’m about to let go when he pulls out of me suddenly. He kneels back and looks down at me stroking his cock.

“Aegon, please,” I sit up and reach for his red, leaking member.

I crawl to him and press my lips against the side of his shaft. I trail my tongue along the underneath until I reach his tip. He groans as I swirl around his leaking slit and sink down on him. Aemonds hands grip at my hips as his hardened length pushes through my wetness. I moan around Aegon as Aemond pushes in.

“Should we let her come?” Aegon pants looking to Aemond.

“I’m not pulling out until I fill her.” Aemond grunts snapping his hips into mine.

I sigh around Aegon at the promise of release. As Aemond pushes in Aegon pulls out. They’re relentless and my high sneaks up on me. I choke against Aegon as I pulse around Aemond. Aemonds hips never falter as he continues to slam into me.

“You’re doing so good.” Aemond grunts rolling his hips.

Aegon cups the side of my cheek as I look up to him with pleasure and tear stained eyes. His gentle touch takes a turn as he twists his hands into my hair and starts to jerk his hips into my mouth. I’m gasping for breath any chance I get as Aemond continues at his savage pace. Aegon twitches down my throat and I swallow everything he gives me.

I collapse to the bed as Aemond pushes my chest down on the bed keeping his hand there as he repeatedly slams into me. I feel my pleasure burst through me again as I sob into the bed. His hips stutter as he fills me pulling out quickly. I lay there with my legs spread and my core up in the air as I try to catch my breath.

“Perfect position.” I feel the bed dip behind me as my chest continues to heave. “Now we’re gunna make up for all of the orgasms we stole from you.” Aegons fingers push into me and I sigh burying my head into the pillow.

He supports my lower abdomen as he pumps his fingers into me mercilessly. My thighs quake as I explode around him feeling Aemonds seed seep out of me. Aegon scoops it into his fingers and pushes it back into me. Aemond looks down at my face smoothing my hair as I whimper.

“Is Aegon making you feel good?” Aemond smiles down at me.

“Yes, so good,” I push my hips back into his hand and he starts to curl his fingers. My hips almost give out once Aemonds fingers brush against my bud.

“Come for us pretty girl.” Aemond coaxes my pleasure as my body gives out.

When I open my eyes again I’m laying against Aemonds chest propped up and Aegon is waiting with his face at my core looking up to me. My eyes widen as he smiles before softly licking at my bud. Aemonds hands cup my breasts and roll my nipples. Aegons tongue slips into my center and I cry out.

“Aegon,” I pant as Aemond continues to tweak my hardened buds.

“Are you gunna drown Aegon in your juices?” Aemond licks on my neck and I whimper.

Aegon grunts in approval as his tongue ferociously starts to lick at me. My legs try to clamp around his head but Aemond holds them open with his legs baring me to Aegons attacks. He laps at me like a starved man and I feel my pleasure rock through my body as I shake against his face.

“You taste simply divine.” Aegon licks his lips crawling up to me to capture my lips.

I sigh into his mouth as I feel his length press up against me. He grinds me back into Aemond and I feel his hips jerk up against my back. I’m squished between them as they pepper me with kisses and tease me with their fingertips.

“Got another idea.” Aegon looks from me to Aemond.

“Mm what now?” Aemond pulls up from my neck.

“Let us both fuck you. Together.” Aegons fingers slide between us back to my heat. He gathers wetness and continues past my core and circles a slick digit around my tight hole.

“Aegon,” I squeak as he continues to watch my face as he pushes against the opening.

“Aemond make her come with your fingers.” my breath catches as Aemond starts circling my throbbing bud as Aegon starts to push a finger in.

Aegon slowly works his finger into me and I let out soft gasps as Aemond starts circling faster. I grind down onto Aegons finger and whine as he starts with a second finger. I look down to Aegon with low lids as he watches his fingers disappear into me. Aemond slides a finger down and dips into my core and I sob clenching around their fingers.

I rest back against Aemonds chest as they slowly pull their fingers from me. Aegon pulls me forward and I fall against his chest. I rest on his chest and he slips up into my core. I sigh as he fills me and my head falls to his neck. I feel Aemond push our legs further open and settle behind us.

“Fuck Aemond,” Aegon groans as I feel Aemonds fingers brush against where me and Aegon are joined, collecting wetness. I hear Aemond let out soft puffs of breath as he pumps himself, coating himself in our release. I feel him push against my tight hole and a whine bubbles out of my throat.

“Relax for me.” he hums rubbing my hips.

Aegon stills his hips and goes between us to rub my bud. I sob into his neck as I feel Aemond slowly push into me. My breath catches in my throat as he slides into me. Once he settles in me I focus on the full feeling of them both. Aegon jerks his hips up pushing me back on to Aemond.

“Fuck,” Aemond grips at my hips tightly.

I clench around them at the delicious fullness I’m being offered and fully let them take over my body. As Aegon pulls out Aemond pushes in. My body trembles with pleasure as I come holding them still inside.

“Such a good fucking girl.” Aegons words slurred from pleasure as him and Aemond start a faster pace.

My body is buzzing, I’ve never felt this much pleasure as I let them use me. I feel Aegons hips falter as his warmth spreads throughout me. I clench around them both and Aemond is immediately filling me from behind. I sob at the fullness of their seed and lengths still buried in me. Aemond pulls out and falls back and Aegon lifts me off of him.

Whimpers fall from my lips as I feel their spend dripping between my thighs. They lay me between them as they kiss me and pepper me with compliments. Their hands travel all over my body trying to help me relax and one of their hands looks to find a home between my legs which I squeeze them shut shaking my head.

“I can’t anymore.” I my body still shaking.

“You’re okay,” Aemond shushes me pulling the blankets over us.

“Rest our sweet girl.” Aegon kisses my brow and pulls me to him while Aemond drapes across my back as sleep finds me quicker than it ever has with a draft from a maester.

⊹˚₊‧꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

masterlist 🔌

damn here we go again 🧎🏼‍♀️

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @callsignwidow @gabriella-aesthetic @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @anaviieiraaa @zanygot7straykidsbonk @hueanhdang

honorary tag from The Usual @janelongxox

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii targaryen #hotd aemond #hotd aegon #hotd smut #hotd fanfic #aemond smut #prince aemond #x reader smut #x reader imagine #x reader #x reader fic #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon smut

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fourteentrout · 5 months

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Acotar Hot Take Time (Again)

Rhys' whole "Everything I love has a tendency to be taken away from me" thing is often lauded as one of the most sentimental, empathetic lines from the book. rhys stans seem genuinely moved by it, even now that more books in the series have come out.

and I think...it's kind of bullshit?

not that people find the sentiment in it, you can like what you like, but the actual claim itself is bullshit.

rhys lost his mother, father, and sister, and I will not deny that it was tragic and traumatizing. by extension, he lost his close friend Tamlin because of his betrayal.

but like...what else? Now that he's been living in his Court after UTM and everyone has moved on from his Evil Guy schtick, tell me, what "everything" is he talking about? He protected velaris, which seems to be the only territory in the Night Court he really cares about. Even when it was attacked, he was able to renew it with seemingly no struggle. he has his entire original inner circle. this guy has like. 5 houses. his Court is intact and thriving (at least, the part of it he cares the most about).

Yes, he was separated from his family for 49 years, but he didn't LOSE them. they were there the whole time, they were there when he got back.

but like, it would be even more obvious if we had an example of someone in the series who ACTUALLY lost everything, right? with no one to compare his experiences to, maybe it really DOES seem like everything he loves has a tendency to be taken from him.

Oh wait. there is an example. Tamlin.

Tamlin lost the exact same things at the same time as Rhys: his immediate family, and his best friend.

But where rhys' loss kind of stagnated, Tamlin's continued once the curse was placed on his Court. His sentries, his friends, sacrificed themselves to help him, to the point where he literally had to stop them from going out because he was overwhelmed with the grief of losing his friends over and over for seemingly NO REASON (as they weren't getting anywhere with the curse. To him, they were giving up their lives for a lost cause.) and unlike with seemingly every member of the Night Court, these guys weren't magically coming back to life. By the time Feyre gets to Spring, the only close remaining friend Tamlin has is Lucien.

And guess what? he lost him, too! feyre left him, and she was valid in doing so, but she TORE HIS COURT APART in the process. she literally fucked with the minds of his new sentries to get them to not trust him, and to get him to not trust them. hell, she made it so he didn't trust the one friend he had left. he fought in the war and his court fell into disrepair because all of his guards LEFT. even after they fought by his side. that's how lasting feyre's impression on the Court was.

Spring was literally abandoned.

So like...let's compare. Rhys has: Cassian, his general and brother, Azriel, his spymaster and brother, Mor, his cousin and third, Amren, his second, Feyre, his mate, wife, and High Lady, Nyx, his son, and his City of Starlight.

He doesn't have: The illyrian and darkbringer troops that died in the war (though there's not much mention of them, save for the illyrians. both nations seem to be pretty removed from Rhys' mind as it is), his mother, his father, and his sister (all of which remain unnamed??? for some reason???), and Tamlin

Tamlin has: maybe some citizens left?? we don't really know. alis?? she went back to the summer court, if I remember correctly, but I could be wrong.

Tamlin doesn't have: Feyre (who, mind you, he already lost once before when he literally watched her die), Lucien (parted ways), Rhys (parted ways), Andras (deceased), all of the unnamed sentries that died during Amarantha's reign, his literal current, living guards (parted ways), his unnamed mother, father, and brothers (all deceased), any kind of love interest (nevermind a mate) (just straight up nonexistent), hell, he even lost Ianthe (deceased). she deserved it, but to him, for the longest time she was just his childhood friend that he TRUSTED. so first he lost her to her own treachery, and then she literally died, presumably without him ever being able to properly confront the fact that she wasn't who he'd thought before she was murdered. he lost troops in the war, and then he lost the living ones to the effects of feyre's destruction of their trust. by Silver Flames, he literally has NOTHING.

I don't know. just knowing all that and re-reading Rhys' line about getting the things he loves taken from him makes me...kind of think that SJM doesn't really know the meaning of having everything taken from someone. cause to me, it really looks like Rhys has...a LOT. like yes, he's experienced loss, but when you have someone like Tamlin, whose Court as far as we know is ABANDONED, it kind of negates the argument before it can even be made.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar hot take #acotar rant #tamlin acotar #tamlin a court of thorns and roses #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #rhys a court of thorns and roses #sjm critical #acotar critical #inner circle critical

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ross-hollander · 1 month

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I went down to...

...the hell for 'mech pilots, once. You get there walking down the lonely, beaten dirt trail, in the fog-shrouded forest, approaching a lookout post where the sentry sits. Uniform of an army you have never seen, viscera spilling out where his flesh rots through. He waves you in, tells you which hangar you have a slot at.

Just past the entrance is the first hangar, Limbo. For those who never did more than they needed to, never looked out for anyone except themselves, never repaid good with bad- or, in fact, with anything at all. They sit there in rows after rows, silent in their niches while technicians without eyes clamber over them. Sometimes, they say, the repairs are completed, and they wave the pilot on out of the hangar, back up the trail.

To the left is Lust, for the magpies, the looters. The ones who craved the metal that had been flesh and bone to others. There they are torn from their cockpits, hearts plucked out by those eyeless technicians, replaced with minute metal homonculi: piloted themselves in murderous clashes until flesh-shreds are all that remain.

To the right is Gluttony, for the over-prepared, the hoarders, the ammunition hogs. Their 'mechs stand beneath a flimsy stone ridge as an endless artillery barrage rains down on them. The terror of the instant death- in spite of all their armor, in spite of all they took for themselves -is constant.

When you walk past Lust you go to Greed, for the spray-and-prayers, for the overkillers sowing cities with missiles and stray shots. Here wait the fallen angels, colossal, purely alien 'mechs of ever-sweltering black metal, and the pilots toil heaving batteries and missiles and armor panels, all of crushing weight, to repair them. Some lie fallen under the burdens they were lugging, never able to arise.

When you walk past Gluttony you go to Wrath, for the cockpit stompers, the ones who shoot down ejecting enemies. They are chained in their seats, ejects disabled, glass barred over, and their reactors cook them in their own can as they howl and sizzle. They go deaf from the radios that share every damned soul's screams with every other.

When you walk past Limbo you go to Heresy, for the metal-breakers, the engine strainers, the ones who slaved their 'mechs to the extreme. Here they lie on tables, those eyeless technicians disassembling them, removing piece by piece and replacing it with metal, from digits to nerves to brain, until all that remains is mute, unmoving alloy.

When you walk past Heresy you go to Fraud, for the abusers of the flag of truce, the false colors or feigned surrenders. Although you can never walk past Fraud; their 'mechs stagger forwards, down that misty dirt road, until metal rusts, until servos give out, until limbs drop off, until they finally collapse, staring, stagnant, mindless, imprisoned in their cockpit, watching the rest of the damned keep heaving themselves on.

No person ever goes to the last hangar. The last hangar is not for the pilots, you see. The last hangar is for Treason. The frozen control systems. The faulty radar that failed to pick up an incoming strike. The eject that refused to work when it was most needed. The last hangar- or so I am told -is where metal goes to pay for its sins, and it is no sight for mortal eyes.

#mechposting #battletech #mechwarrior #microfiction #mech #mecha #dantes inferno #rh.txt

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goblin-enjoyer · 10 months

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Normalize the tf2 mercs as being absolute genetic freaks of nature under the hood. Medic is crazy and we know he gets paid good so he’s probably got lots of bits in his bin if you know what I mean.

Pyro is straight up nonhuman. Pyro is a fire elemental that the Mann brothers have bound to a hazmat suit and medic made a real boy by giving them meat. Not making her a human body mind you, but rather every time he gets damaged, instead of bursting into flames meat forms around the wound and it bleeds instead of letting the inner crea tur out.how? Wizard. Moving on.

Soldier has massive lungs that make him 20% more louder. If he was smarter he could probably echolocate his way around. That or sound attacks idk he eats wizard pills he could have hollow bones for all I know. Sure he has hallow bones now for rocket jumping. Im the one typing I get to make nonsense on the fly.

Medic put pigeon dna in scout and that’s how he makes his trademark milk-like substance. How this happens you may ask? Scout saw medics doves have sex while getting his second Uber heart surgery and said “man I wish I could pick up chicks that well” and medic said “good idea I will help you with this” and then looked at the camera and smirked. The administrator does not spectate medics lab/operation room/dove breeding center anymore. Also scouts immune to radiation due to all the bonk he ingests, though sometimes he does become radioactive sometimes.

We already know that demoman’s body creates alcohol and that he has a ghost eye, but did you know that if you shoot him with some sort of piercing explosive round he will combust into flames. I… I couldn’t really think of anything for demoman I don’t play him as much.

Engineer always wishes he could have kids, but doesn’t want to have sex. That and he removed most of his reproductive/unnecessary/extra/mid organs with machine parts like 30 years ago. So after the events of the games and comics where everyone is happy and junk, he teams up with medic to make himself some half robot half human half whatever dell conagher is at that point at time children. He asks if medic ever want kids he can do the same for him but he declines as at this point in time he has perfected the art of male impregnation.(on various ape parts) dell is a great father and yes I added this part because the whole humanized sentry thing that went around a while ago touched my heart because despite the words of almost every engineer main everywhere I get so attached to the sentries I build that I die a little bit inside every time I die and my buildings get sapped and I have to just watch as my babies get destroyed. I get too attached to my buildings to play engineer

Heavy doesn’t stop growing, similar to that of a reptile. His skin is as thick as a rhinos. He hibernates for a month in summer because I said so. He has accidentally killed/crushed medic before and is now eternally cautious when in bed with him. Medic doesn’t mind, he knows what he’s gotten himself into. Heavy can also talk to birds like a Disney princess. Medic didn’t add any bird parts for this to happen he just was always like this.

Sniper can dislocate every bone in his body and go through cracks that are at least the size of his head. He will use this to show up in the most unexpected places imaginable. Is legally classified as an tardigrade in some places due to his ability to be fine in almost any place (volcano,Arctic,sewer system, a walk in closet so large it took him 5 weeks to get out, space that one time). Can go up to a year without eating (the team found this out at the same time they figured out the space thing). Swallows things whole.

Spy can shift his flesh around to disguise as almost anything, keeps the mass and weight though. Breaths mostly through his skin so he doesn’t cough due to his decrepit lungs. Was hit by a car once. Doesn’t have anything to do with the subject matter of the tf2 mercs being freakish beings with human skin but I just wanted to include it here.

Medic. What isn’t medic? The only thing consistent with his biology is that he can regenerate somehow. He alters his body so much that it is roughly equivalent to 1 tyranid hive fleet and 2,million ork painboys.(the tf2 mercs would be more likely to work for the orks than to ever work for one of the human factions in 40k and I just needed to get that off my chest) This is how he manages to get away with all the things he’s done. Banned from this continent? Just become a new person who’s not banned from that continent and presto you’re good! The laws don’t account for the ship of Theseus!

#midnight brainrot #man I love posting nonsense late at night #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 heavy #sniper tf2 #scout tf2 #spy tf2 #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 pyro #tf2 sniper #tf2 soldier #tf2 demoman #did I tag this right? I’m not good at tagging things

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lilbittymonster · 13 days

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Day 11: Surrogate

Read on AO3

The road was long. Every ilm of his body ached under his armour. The lance that was once so proudly given as the honoured weapon of the Azure Dragoon had been reduced to being used as naught but a cane. The rolling hills of the Central Highlands were all beginning to blur into one green mass before his exhausted eyes, and only the years of treading these roads made sure he and his young charge were heading towards the tents of Camp Dragonhead.

The child hadn’t uttered a single word the entire journey, and the weeping had ceased bells ago. Now, still dusted in soot, he stared listlessly ahead as he clung to Alberic’s gauntlet. He’d been limping for the last malm and Alberic wasn’t sure if he was in any state to carry the boy should it come to it. Blessedly, the light of the campfire was visible off in the distance. All he had to do was wait until they were spotted.

“Who goes?” called a sentry as they drew nearer.

“Ser Alberic of the Knights Dragoon,” he called out hoarsely. “And…..child.”

The knight straightened at Alberic’s call. He said something to the other knight beside him, and they ran off into the camp.

“Full glad are we to see you returned, Ser Alberic,” the sentry said as they approached. “We could see the battle raging from here.” He turned to peer at the boy trailing slightly behind Alberic. “And who have we here?”

“A survivor,” was all Alberic said. “He needs to be seen by a healer.”

“Of course, of course,” the sentry nodded quickly. “Whatever you need.”

Alberic nodded wearily, and with another look at the boy, he led them further into the camp towards the healer’s tent. Now that they were in full lamplight he could see the burns on the child’s feet and hands. Smears of blood from unseen wounds crusted on his skin and tear tracks through the soot ran down his cheeks.

“Good evening, how- oh, good heavens above,” said the attendant chirurgeon. “What happened to this child?”

“Dragon attack,” Alberic said wearily.

The man was already pulling clean rags from a shelf with one hand and tugging the boy’s hand away from Alberic towards a bed with the other. Alberic released him and leaned his full weight on his lance, content to let the boy be seen to first. He was still silent, unresponsive to the healer’s prodding as he was wiped down. The burns were an even angrier red once the thin layer of black was removed and Alberic feared the boy may scar. The chirurgeon’s lips pressed together worriedly as he worked.

“What is your name?” he asked the boy gently.

No response.

“Do you know?” the chirurgeon asked, turning to Alberic.

He shook his head. “He’s said nary a word the whole journey.”

The chirurgeon hummed in disappointment. “Were there any others with him?”

Alberic shook his head again.

“A shame. How many more good innocent folk must we lose to the thrice damned Horde?” His hands were methodical in their movements, and in small concentrated bursts were the burns slowly eased. Satisfied with his work, and that there were no other injuries in need of tending to the boy, he straightened and turned to Alberic.

“Do not think your slumping has escaped my notice, ser dragoon. Sit, I shall be with you shortly.”

Alberic obeyed without complaint, glad to be off of his feet. He set the stained and bent lance to the side of the bed and stiffly began the process of removing his armour.

The boy said something in a mumble.

“I beg your pardon?” Alberic said gently leaning in.

“Estinien,” the boy said in a whisper. “My name’s Estinien.”

“Hello, Estinien. I am Ser Alberic Bale, of the Knights Dragoon of Ishgard.”

Slowly, Estinien looked up at Alberic with hollow eyes. “Where are we?”

“We are in Camp Dragonhead, not far from the Holy See. You’ve been hurt badly.” He hesitated. “Do you have any family that live in another village? Grandparents, maybe? Or an aunt and uncle?”

Estinien paused, then shook his head minutely.

Alberic closed his eyes and inhaled slowly through singed lungs. Another orphan of the war.

“Well, Estinien, once you are rested up a bit, I shall take you to the Holy See. You’ll be taken care of there.”

Estinien just looked past him again, eyes unseeing once more.

Alberic shouldered open the door to the apartment. It was far less glamourous than his previous lodgings, but a knight’s barrack is no place for a child. A lantern was already filled on the counter next to a small flintbox, and he methodically went around the room lighting the various wall lanterns. The room filled with soft light, and he turned to see Estinien still standing in the open doorway, staring wide eyed about the space.

“Come in, and close the door behind you, lad,” Alberic said as he set down his bag on the bare floor.

Hesitantly, as if waiting for an enemy to spring from the woodwork, Estinien stepped over the threshold and closed the door softly behind him. Trailing a hand along the wall he made a slow circuit about the common room. He paid no mind to the kitchen, but the washroom seemed to confuse him.

“What is this?” he asked.

Alberic looked up from the small wrapped bundle of plates he was putting away.

“What is what?”

Estinien was standing over the toilet with a confused tilt of his head.

“Surely you’ve seen a toilet before,” Alberic said, half jokingly.

Estinien frowned. “I have. Why is it inside, though?”

That brought Alberic up short.

“Ah, the city has sewers all throughout it,” he explained, trying not to laugh and embarrass the boy. “It keeps all our washrooms clean that way.

Estinien seemed to accept this explanation, not even looking at the tub, and continued his walk about the apartment. His meager belongings put away, Alberic watched wordlessly as the young boy assessed the space, leaning against the counter. First the bedroom on the left, then the right, before finally coming to rest back in the middle of the room.

“Well?” Alberic prompted.

“It’s big,” was all Estinien said.

“And…..that’s good?”

Estinien nodded, and Alberic’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“Well, which room would you like for yourself?”

Before Alberic had finished asking, Estinien was already pointing to the door on the right. Alberic chuckled.

“Go on, then, it’s all yours. We’ll get you a proper bed after supper.”

Estinien slipped inside and closed the door, and as Alberic picked up what was left of his belongings to enter the other bedroom, he thought he could hear the faint sounds of crying through the wall.

The smell of bitter and sweet herbs wafted up from the steaming mug as Alberic mixed in a healthy spoonful of honey before bringing it to the currently curled up elezen on the couch.

“Here, it’s still hot,” Alberic said as he approached.

Estinien slowly sat up with a wince and took the mug from his hands, sipping tentatively at the liquid. He pulled a face at the first sip and Alberic made a sympathetic noise.

“How much longer until it arrives?” he asked morosely.

“The letter that said it was sent from Ul’dah is dated two moons ago. It shouldn’t be long now,” Alberic promised.

Estinien grunted and winced again, taking another sip of tea.

“Is that barley sock still hot enough?” Alberic asked.

Estinien shook his head and unfurled himself enough to hand over the simple cotton tube. Alberic took it and laid it out on the stones by the fireplace again, careful not to let it get close enough to the flames to burn before sitting back down on the couch. Estinien leaned against his shoulder as he settled back against the cushions.

“I can’t wait to not have to do this again,” he muttered.

“Again!” Estinien demanded.

“We have been at this for bells, now, son,” Alberic panted as he straightened.

“If I am to be the next Azure Dragoon, then I need to be better than all the rest,” Estinien insisted.

“Aye, and you’ll never survive even being a Temple Knight if you kill yourself training,” Alberic countered.

Estinien scoffed and muttered something, but relaxed his stance. He was nearly the same height as Alberic now, and the set of old training maille rested snugly on his frame. Secretly, he had hoped to keep the danger of joining the dragoons from Estinien and spare him the same fate as him, but the lad was stubborn, and the flame of vengeance burned brighter in his eyes with each passing day.

And so, with a heavy heart, Alberic had agreed to instruct him. And that included making sure that Estinien did not run himself into an early grave.

“We’ve done these same drills a hundred times,” Estinien complained. “When are you going to show me something new?”

“You lack the balance to accompany your strength,” Alberic said, noting the small gathering of onlookers in the wings of the proving grounds. “It takes more than simple might to slay a wyrm.”

Estinien processed this with a furrow in his brow. Alberic rested the sparring lance against the nearby training dummy and stretched his legs. A few of the newer recruits were still fighting at the other end of the sand pit, and Alberic caught some of them gawking, only to avert their eyes as he met them.

“And how am I meant to practise balance?” Estinien asked finally.

“That we can do at home,” Alberic promised. He paused. “And I may be able to call in a favour.”

Estinien’s eyes lit up.

“I cannot guarantee anything,” Alberic clarified quickly, “but I did promise I would impart to you all that I know, and I plan to keep my promise.”

Alberic sat up in bed, heart pounding in his chest and pulse loud in his ears, but no memory of what he had dreamt beforehand. Perhaps it was for the best that he didn’t. As he tried to slow his breathing down his sleep-addled brain eventually recognised that there was light leaking in from beneath his door. He hauled himself out of bed and dressed slowly before cautiously opening it.

Estinien looked up from the table, where he was sitting with a deck of cards spread before him and a bottle of wine at his side.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked, placing a card down on a row of others.

“Seems so,” Alberic said groggily as he meandered into the kitchen.

“Plenty of wine left in the bottle,” Estinien said without looking up.

“How considerate of you.”

Alberic slumped into the chair opposite and watched as Estinien laid down card after card. The wine was a bit too dry for his liking but it took the lingering edge off. He got back up to retrieve the last of the wheel of cheese from the icebox to cover the aftertaste.

Estinien stacked the fourth and final column of cards and swept the deck back into his hand and began shuffling.

“Care for a hand, if you aren’t sleeping?” he asked.

“I could go for a round of Skyfish, sure.”

Estinien raised a brow as he shuffled. “Skyfish, huh? The children’s game?”

“Ah, come now, humour your old man.”

“You’re hardly that old, Alberic,” Estinien said.

“If you’ve the brains for a more involved game, I’m all ears.”

Estinien chuckled but dutifully dealt them their hands. Alberic swept up his four cards, and immediately regretted the choice of game.

The manor was quiet in its comfort, the meal finished and plates cleared away by dutiful staff. Estinien and Aymeric were in the parlor across the hall with the cats. Alberic could hear the gentle tinkling of a bell and scampering claws on hardwood as Arienne skittered across them.

“I’m so glad you could join us this year,” Vivienne said as she sipped her wine contentedly.

“As am I. ‘Tis good to spend time in your company outside from formal matters for a change.”

Vivienne laughed at that, tilting her glass in a small cheers. It had taken the better part of the dinner and two glasses of Lominsan red for Alberic to relax in the company of nobles, even nobles he ostensibly already knew.

“Truthfully, I am glad of the excuse not to attend the larger Starlight celebrations,” she said. “My old bones aren’t what they used to be and the chairs are never comfortable enough.”

The sounds of the bell had stopped, and distantly Alberic heard the echoing sound of a door being closed followed by the wails of a small cat. Alberic hid his smile in his glass of wine. A minute later, Arienne appeared in the doorway voicing her complaints.

“Oh, did you get thrown out, your poor dear?” Vivienne said sympathetically. She patted her lap in invitation. “I know I’m not my son, but-ah, hello my darling.”

Arienne pushed her head against Vivienne’s hand, purring loudly, before circling twice and curling up contentedly.

“Oh, to be young and in love,” she said, a knowing smile on her lips. “Have you ever had anyone special to call your own, Alberic?”

He coughed on the wine slightly at the unexpected question.

“Ah, nay, I have not,” he said quickly to recover. “Being a knight, then a dragoon, I had not the time nor desire to tie myself to anyone I might soon leave behind. And then when that path was closed to me, well….” he trailed off with a meaningful look towards where the boys had disappeared to. “All my time went towards ensuring the happiness of my son. And I don’t regret a single moment of it.”

“And he makes my son very happy as well. I can’t tell you what a blessing it’s been to have Estinien around.”

Alberic’s chest swelled with pride at her words. It was a relief to hear that Estinien had come out of his shell just as much as he’d hoped.

“I thank the Fury every day that they have each other,” he said.

I loved you as a father, but I can ill forgive you for Ferndale.

Estinien’s final words to him still rattled about between his ears. The din of the room hardly drowned them out, much as he tried. He tried to think of any other way that conversation could have happened. Any way to spare him that pain. But as always, Nidhogg had other ideas.

He supposed it was a good thing Kitali stepped in when she did. He doesn’t know if he could have had the strength of will to fight his only son. He leaned back in the rickety chair and closed his eyes.

Halone, hear this prayer of a desperate father, he thought. Keep my son safe.

#ffxivwrite2024 #ffxivwrite 2024 #my writing #alberic bale #estinien #estinien wyrmblood #estinien varlineau #I Am Very Normal About Alberic And Estinien's Relationship I Promise #as is demonstrated by this being the longest fic i've written for xivwrite thus far #proud member of the 'alberic is a good father' defense squad #bc i see an alarming amount of people writing him to be antagonising to estinien for some fucking reason and it bothers me #they're both doing their best given the circumstances and i think they turned out okay! all things considering!#anyways good morning to the europeans checking tumblr before work i should have been asleep two and a half hours ago

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separatist-apologist · 4 months

Text

Never Not Mine

Summary: Elain Archeron has been betrothed to the seventh born son of Autumn for as long as she can remember. With her family's reputation in the balance, Elain is resigned to her fate.

That doesn't mean she has to like it…or that she has to make it easy for him.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Read on AO3

Elain took a breath as Lucien reached for Elain’s hand, held limply at her side. Glancing over, she saw Lucien’s jaw set tightly, eyes focused on the carved door before them. They couldn’t speak without risk of being overheard by the sentries guarding, so they stood there silently, connected only by his fingers wrapped around her own.

“Enter,” a guard murmured as the pair pulled open the heavy, golden handles in unison. Lucien stepped first, spine impossibly straight. He knew all the rules like the back of his hand, but Elain didn’t. She was scared—they’d gotten word that morning that Beron Vanserra had requested their presence later in the afternoon, effectively ruining their days. Lucien had scuttled off and Elain had been afraid he was going to sink into his cups again.

But he’d returned, dressed immaculately and smelling perfectly pleasant. Whatever Lucien had done, it left no mark. Discreetly, Elain had inhaled to see if she could detect another female on him, but Lucien was merely Lucien—hair brushed neatly, jacket buttoned nearly to his jaw, boots perfect and polished. He’d removed his rings save for their wedding band and looked much like his father who sat before him on his throne.

As much as he could, anyway. Elain kept wondering where Lucien’s handsome face came from, because it certainly wasn’t Beron, who was attractive in the same sharp way Eris and Cadmus were. It wasn’t the softer features of his mother, either—those seemed to have been given exclusively to Connal and Tanwen. He had his mothers coloring, like all his brothers did—her auburn hair, her russet colored eyes. But his skin was darker than his brothers, his jaw more defined, his body more muscular. Elain looked up at her husband, drinking in the sharp cheekbones, the prominent nose, and full brows. His brothers had an elegance to them, a leanness that seemed to be shared among their parents.

Still, Lucien was a son of Autumn in the sharp, shrewd tongue leashed behind his teeth and the keen, clever gleam in his eyes. Elain was neither, though she remembered Arina had survived here, and so would she, somehow.

The pair bowed deeply when they reached the foot of the wooden dais, Lucien’s fingers squeezing rhythmically as he counted something out in his head. She stood when he did, looking just behind the High Lord.

Beron chuckled, as if her nerves amused him. “How are you enjoying Autumn, Lady Elain?”

I hate it.

“Your home is beautiful and everyone has been so welcoming,” she said in the sweetest tone she could muster. Beron approved, clearly, reclining back on his throne.

“And my son?”

“A perfect gentleman,” Elain replied dutifully.

Elain expected that to be the end of the inquisition. Beron turned to Lucien, eyes still gleaming. “And you, boy?” Elain’s heart raced.

“I enjoy being married,” Lucien replied like the liar that he was. It didn’t answer Beron’s question, though, and both Elain and Beron knew it. Elain tried to hide the revulsion and fear she felt. Why did Beron care so much? Why did males in general care what a female was like in the bedroom? Beron’s wife was easily one of the most beautiful people in Prythian—why the fascination?

“Does she comply?” Beron demanded as Lucien cringed back ever so slightly.

Still, he answered. “Yes.”

“She does as she’s told?”

Lucien looked as if he wanted to vomit. “Yes.”

Beron seemed a little put out by this. “Her father will be pleased to hear that, at least. There was an inquiry into her…lack of response to his letters.”

Letters?

“I, of course, forgot to have them sent to you,” Beron continued blithely as a servant materialized beside her, holding a stack of letters tied together with twine. “Please inform him you are being treated well…and performing dutifully as a wife.”

“Yes,” Elain murmured, sinking into another bow. Beron waved them away, clearly bored of their unwillingness to put on a show for him. Elain wondered what he hoped for. Had the hoped Lucien had complaints? That Elain was miserable? Would he have liked to have seen bruises? Fear? Something that proved he’d raised his son in his own image?

Lucien murmured out a thank you before turning, all but dragging Elain along behind him. Lucien said nothing, pulling her through the halls, chest heaving up and down as though he might throw up. Elain had to jog to keep up with his long, quick gait, half breathless by the time Lucien slammed the door shut to their bedroom so hard a nearby picture fell off the wall.

“Bastard,” he snarled, reaching for a crystal vase filled with freshly cut flowers only to launch it across the room. “He’s a fucking—a fucking…a prick!”

Elain had never seen Lucien lose his temper like he was right then, smashing things until she walked toward him and grabbed his arm. “Please stop,” she murmured, hating the tremble in her voice. “It’s over. Everything is fine.”

Lucien turned, eyes flashing and for one horrible moment she thought…but he didn’t. He didn’t do anything but take a breath, blinking away his rage like snuffing out a candle. Her hand remained on his arm for just a moment longer, his eyes sliding to where they touched which convinced her to pull away. Nothing good would come of it, even if there were layers of fabric separating the pads of her fingers from his bare skin.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice edged with some emotion she didn’t recognize. “He’s just…”

“Under your skin?” she suggested.

“Cruel,” Lucien finished, turning his head to look anywhere but at Elain. “And I wonder, sometimes, if that's the fate of us all. Did he once feel the way I do? Will I one day hope my sons hurt their wives simply because I enjoy the fear of those beneath me?”

Elain wanted to assure him he wouldn’t, but it didn’t seem like her place to do so. Whatever inner turmoil Lucien was experiencing, it clearly wasn’t new. This was his insecurity to banish. She didn’t know what to say to this male who was more stranger than husband, who she just barely knew at all. Something tugged for just a moment, urging her to offer him comfort. To protect him, even if it was from his own emotions. The feeling slipped away just as quickly as it arrived, leaving Elain feeling strangely embarrassed by the whole thing. Lucien, too, seemed wildly uncomfortable as he stepped away, his expression more akin to that of a cornered animal. He didn’t want her touching him anymore than she wanted to touch him, it seemed.

Elain took a healthy step backward.

“I’m sorry,” Lucien murmured again, raking his fingers through his long, thick hair. “I lost my temper, I…won’t do it again.”

Elain nodded, unwilling to tell him he hadn’t frightened her. Better to nip his temper in the bud than to find herself trapped with a man who’d grown too comfortable screaming and yelling.

“You hate him?”

It wasn’t really a question, and yet Elain still asked as Lucien sank into a chair, hand covering his face.

“He hated me first,” Lucien said, stretching his long legs out before him. “Something about me offends him.”

“Does he like your brothers better?” she questioned, creeping closer. It was tempting to perch herself on the arm of his chair, but that seemed too personal, too close to just climbing in his lap. Her curiosity wanted her to, which kept Elain rooted in place. As much as she wanted to know what it would feel like to lay beneath a male, she wasn’t certain she wanted to know what it would be like to lay beneath this male.

Not yet, anyway.

Lucien shrugged his broad shoulders as he stretched out his neck. “I’m not sure. He favors them is perhaps the better word for how he feels. I doubt a creature like Beron Vanserra can feel true love anymore.”

“Because he’s old?” Beron Vanserra was the oldest High Lord by a good three centuries, holding power when so many others had died.

Lucien only shrugged. “Maybe.”

He didn’t know why his father was cold and cruel. Had he done what Elain was doing right then—comb through any piece of evidence to explain why he was the way that he was? How long before Lucien stopped? What had his childhood been like? While Elain had been running through flowers, chased by her adoring father, had Lucien been cowering in the forest and trying to hide from his hateful gaze?

It made her feel for him, putting Lucien’s behavior into greater context. Not that it excused how he’d treated her, but…at least her parents had loved each other. At least Elain had that safety. She started to reach for him before she thought better of it, hand falling to her side. Lucien didn’t acknowledge the gesture, didn’t react at all.

“Do you want to go to the garden?” she offered as the clouds parted for a moment, drawing cool sunlight into the once shaded room. Truthfully, Elain didn’t much care for a turn about the half finished garden with Lucien, who was still brooding over his thoughts. But anything was better than sitting as they were, awkward and uncomfortable and unable to even look the other in the eye.

Lucien rose to his feet. “I’m a poor husband and you’re a political pawn,” he said, towering over her. “He will always dangle you over me with the threat of harm should he think you displease me.” “Perhaps he doesn’t hate you as much as you think,” she said, heart thudding in her chest.

Lucien’s laugh was devoid of humor. “He doesn’t threaten you out of concern for my happiness, but to keep us both aligned to his goals. He knows me well enough.”

“What does that mean?” she asked as Lucien stepped past, rubbing the back of his neck.

Lucien glanced over his shoulder at her. “Regardless of my feelings, I don’t want to see you hurt.”

What are your feelings? Elain almost asked, the urge rising through her so quickly it pained her to squash it. She didn’t think she wanted to know. Nothing, she reassured herself. His feelings were nothing substantial, were those of a male forced with a female he hadn’t asked for. Elain had upended his life, had destroyed the romance he’d had, and refused to even pretend to want to be his wife.

Would it have been kinder to just give in to him?

“Neither do I,” Elain told Lucien instead, catching the way the corners of his eyes softened. He looked as if he might touch her before he, too, thought better of it.

“Come on,” he murmured, nodding toward the door. “Before we lose the last vestiges of light.”

She smiled, falling into step behind him.

“Whatever you like.”

LUCIEN:

Personally, Lucien did not believe Tanwen deserved the amount of thought Elain was putting into this one-sided courtship. As they stood on the lawn eyeing the sky overhead, Lucien thought it would simply be easier to tell Tanwen that Ayla liked him and let his brother figure the rest out.

His oblivious nature grated on Lucien’s nerves. Everything was grating on his nerves, truthfully, staring with Elain dressed in buttery yellow with a square neck that dipped just enough to show off the soft swell of her breasts.

He’d woken with an erection, his mind racing from a dream in which he’d been between her legs, mouth on her neck, fingers gripping her hips as he pushed himself deeper and deeper and—

Stop, he warned himself as Arina’s eyes cut toward him, brow furrowed. The wind had caught, blowing his scent away from his mate, though if he had to guess, he’d bet it had slammed into Arina.

She looked at him, those green eyes narrowed to slits and oh gods, if she figured it out, Lucien was fucked. She’d tell Eris, who would tell the rest of their brothers, who would dangle it over Lucien while they teased the information to Elain. Right then, though, Arina could do nothing at all but turn toward Eris and inhale, trying to banish the scent of Lucien’s arousal from his nose.

If only Lucien could do the same. He’d been half hard all morning, which did little to improve his mood. In moments, Elain would announce the start of the game and take off running, and every instinct demanded he give chase, pin her to the forest floor, and have his wicked way with her. Lucien wanted her so badly it was making a fool out of them both, even if Elain didn’t know it.

He was close to begging. Each night when he got into bed felt like the most heinous torture. Had Beron guessed when he paired them together? It was the kind of trick his father would have enjoyed. Lucien thought he would have preferred being strapped to the wrack while whips were taken to his flesh than spend another night laying inches from his mate, her scent burning in his nose.

Arina snapped her fingers in Lucien’s face, drawing him back to reality.

“Get it together,” she hissed, nodding toward a beaming Elain. “You’re going to scare away the birds.”

“Shut up,” he retorted, earning a filthy look from Eris. Cauldron, save him from mated males—himself included.

Elain clapped her hands over her breasts, causing them to jiggle ever so slightly. Lucien’s attention was refixed, his mind empty as he watched.

“Are we ready?” she asked, her voice sweet and soft.

Yes.

Lucien ground his teeth together, shifting on his feet as he tried—and failed—to convince his cock to calm down. How much masturbating could one male do before it wasn’t enough? He felt like all he did was lock himself up in the bathroom, fisting his cock in a desperate attempt to pretend he was fine. What was worse were his thoughts—he didn’t imagine Jes anymore, didn’t see her body, her face, her smiling mouth. How easy it was becoming to forget her entirely, even when he clung to the memories.

What a fraud he’d been. She’d known it when he showed up in Dawn and had been, perhaps, right to tell him to go. Lucien’s guilt tempered some of his lust, though that worked less and less as the days passed. What he needed was to know what she tasted like.

And he needed it badly.

Elain motioned for them to go, leaving the males behind. Every instinct coiled like a spring, held taut as he watched her vanish in the woods. Eris, too, had sharp eyes as Arina vanished in a blur of gold and green. Watching his brother abandon all his good sense worried Lucien. It had been over a year, now, and Eris didn’t seem to be over it. What hope was there for Lucien? Would he, too, be chained to this female he didn’t love simply because he wanted her so badly it eroded all his good sense?

“How long do we count, again?” Tanwen’s voice interrupted, blissfully unburdened.

Lucien and Eris turned to look and Lucien swore at that moment they were one.

“You’re a moron,” Eris declared with a heavy sigh.

“What the fuck?” Tanwen demanded, but Eris wasn’t going to elaborate, and neither was Lucien. Elain would kill him, and he was trying so hard to convince her to touch him of her own volition. To just reach for him and place her fingers against his jaw, to sink them into his hair—

“Do you mind?!” Eris snarled, rounding on Lucien.

Lucien opened his mouth to offer some weak rebuttal and, in his imagination, put Eris in his place. A scream, however, ripped through the air, sending the three of them running before they even thought about their actions. No one knew who was screaming—Lucien couldn’t be sure whose voice it was. That didn’t stop the terror from flooding through him, his imagination running wild.

It was rare to find monsters in the Autumn wood. Beron commanded soldiers, left under Eris’s command, to stalk through the woods and purge the creatures that sometimes slipped through the borders between Spring and Autumn. Spring cared less—Tamlin’s father had thought it was good for the humans to be afraid, to hear stories of creatures that could rip a body clean in half before feasting on the bones.

And the middle was teeming with them. They often slithered out, spreading across the continent to wreak havoc. Eris barked out an order that Lucien didn’t hear, nearly colliding with a tree in his urgency. He could feel the pull, the twin beating heart in his chest and he knew it wasn’t Ayla or Arina who was in trouble—it was Elain.

Lucien unsheathed his sword before he found the circling naga, creatures he hadn’t seen since he was an adolescent, slithering like snakes with their yellow, slitted eyes and their scaled bodies. Elain lay on her back, dress torn but otherwise unharmed for the moment. Lucien didn’t hesitate, stepping over her body so she was bracketed between his legs as he raised his sword.

“Run,” he ordered her the moment that first head hit the ground, rolling toward Elain as she stared, eyes wide as saucers. Their eyes met and though Lucien didn’t mean to beg, the words tumbled easily from his lips. “Please, Elain—go.” She clambered to her feet as more, glancing over her shoulder as another tried to strike at her. Lucien shoved Elain behind him, grateful to hear the whistle of Tanwen’s axe flying through the air.

Sharpened claws missed Elain by mere inches, slicing, instead, clean down Lucien’s face. Blood obscured his vision as white hot pain lanced through him, though Lucien couldn’t focus because Elain was still right there, ghostly pale and frozen in place. Did she need to see him get on his knees? To bury his face in her skirts and plead with her to go anywhere else?

“Lucien—”

“GO!” he roared, swinging his sword a second time to keep her from suffering the same fate. Lucien could only see from one eye and was certain the venom of the naga was in his blood. He had minutes before he collapsed to the ground—minutes he needed to buy Elain.

He heard her take off, taking his heart with him. There was nothing for a moment but the sounds of his brothers breathing, of metal slicing through tendon and flesh and the rotting smell of venomous blood.

“You’re going to die, princling,” one of the creatures hissed, yellow eyes watching with glee. “No faerie magic can undo this.”

Eris plunged his blade into the malleable, scaled body of the naga. It came not a moment too soon, as Lucien’s knees buckled despite his best efforts. The world had taken on a greenish hue, and the pain in his face had become cold rather than hot, filling him with dread.

“He needs a healer,” Tanwen said, grabbing one of Lucien’s arms as Eris took the other. He couldn’t make his legs work, forcing his brothers to drag him from the forest like he was still a boy.

“Oh, gods,” a female voice whispered and more hands found his body.

“Is he going to die?”

“No,” Eris said in that overly confident way of his. “Help me get him into bed.”

That was Elain’s scent trailing, the sweetness of honey mingled with salty fear. Lucien wanted to reassure her that this was fine, a mere setback and he’d be back to normal before long. But his tongue was thick in his mouth, his throat dry and worse, still, was that even he didn’t believe the words he wanted to say.

Naga venom was dangerous—they’d been warned as children not to get too close. Lucien couldn’t see out of his eye, could feel the scratches cut deep into his skin. Maybe dying would be a mercy, he thought wildly. Maybe she’d be freed of him, unaware there was a bond between them at all.

She’d go on with her life and he…well.

Maybe this had always been his destiny. Who would truly mourn him? His mother, perhaps. He doubted his mate would, or his brothers, or the family he’d never quite fit into. How many times had he wished he was dead as a boy, besides? When his father would lock him up in that dark, windowless room simply because Lucien’s presence angered him, Lucien would rail at the gods and wish for death.

They’d come too late, but they’d come all the same.

As he slipped away, he couldn’t muster up anger. Only relief Elain was alright. He tried to reach for her, prying open both eyes so he could see her one last time. That was enough, he told himself.

There she was, haloed in gold like a goddess brought to life. Her brown eyes shone with unshed tears, full mouth set in a harsh line.

“Don’t you dare, Lucien Vanserra,” she hissed as she swung her legs over his waist. He was too far gone to enjoy the sight of it. “If you die, I’ll find you in the afterlife, and I’ll punish you for it.”

A strangled laugh escaped him.

“Swear to me you’ll stay,” she ordered, unbuttoning his jacket. “Swear it.”

He tried. Lucien really did.

But in the end, he could make her no promises.

ELAIN:

“Please,” she said, on her knees before the High Lord. “He’s going to die.”

Beside her, Eris knelt too, head bowed so low his nose practically scraped against the floor. Behind him, Cadmus, Connall, and Tanwen stood like statues, their faces utterly unreadable. Not that it mattered—Eris had called for a healer hours ago and Beron had declared there would be no healer for his youngest son. After a hurried discussion, Elain had agreed to face her fears and beg the High Lord herself.

“What were you doing in the woods, Elain Vanserra?”

Elain cringed. She’d never heard anyone use that last name—it felt wrong. “We were enjoying the weather,” she said, eyes still cast downward. They could all hear the soft sobbing coming from the Lady of Autumn, though the High Lord paid her no mind.

“And you just so happened to stumble upon naga?” Beron questioned. “It’s my understanding his injuries are your fault.”

Elain’s heart hammered in her chest. Would she do anything to save Lucien? “Punish me in his place,” she whispered as Eris stiffened beside her. He could do nothing now that the words had left her lips, though she knew he disapproved. If this is what it took, Elain would submit to it. The whole thing was her fault.

“As tempting as that is, I’m not in the business of harming females,” Beron said, his voice oily. He was a liar—they all knew what he did to his own wife. This had nothing to do with Elain, truly, and everything to do with his dislike of his sons. “Lucien will either come through this stronger, or he’ll succumb…but he will not see a healer. Consider that your punishment. Perhaps, in the future, you’ll consider your actions more carefully.”

Elain wanted to scream. Daring to look up, a vision slammed into her with enough force to leave her breathless. Beron, his body seated on that twisted throne—and his head removed, rolling down the steps with a casual thud. There was no way of telling the day, the time, the hour—but Elain knew in her heart it was soon. It was the only thing that convinced her to rise to her shaky feet when Eris’s fingers curled around her arm to lift her upward.

Beron spoke, unaware Elain was only half there, but the Vanserra brothers knew. She could feel their gazes on her, their concern as Eris half dragged her out of the throne room amid the sounds of their mothers screaming wails. No one said a word as Elain dug deeper into the vision, bending it to her will.

“Cauldron, Elain,” Eris grunted when her knees buckled, but she needed to know. Tell me the day, give me the hour, she demanded of her magic, pushing with claws far deeper than she’d ever dared. The world melted from view, thrusting her into the vision so she could see, exactly, what she was looking for.

The Vanserra’s dressed for war—Lucien, among them. Elain halted to look at her husband, his once perfect face now marred with three long gouges that ran from his scalp down to his sculpted jaw. One eye remained as it ever had been, russet and lively but the other…the other was mechanical and made of solid gold. Stark against the warm brown of his skin, the eye only made him lovelier—and he was alive. They all were, united as they’d always been. Their blades dripped with blood splattered against the dark wood, faces bruised but otherwise lovely.

“Happy birthday,” Cadmus murmured, though who he spoke to, Elain couldn’t be certain. Her magic waned, pushing back. It wasn’t right to demand specifics—the future was changeable, malleable. She could warn Beron just as easily as she could say nothing.

“Where did you go?” Eris demanded when Elain was ejected. She found herself in her bedroom amid the smell of festering sickness. Eris stared at her alongside his brothers, all of them wide-eyed with wonder.

“Are you—”

“Say nothing,” Eris ordered, eyes cutting to his mate who pressed a cold rag against Lucien’s forehead.

“His death approaches,” Elain whispered.

“Luciens?” Cadmus asked, but Eris was shaking his head, lips curling into a gruesome smile.

“When?” “Soon,” she replied, uncertain.

“Eris,” Arina interrupted, unconcerned with Eris’s plans, “if you let me call—”

“No!” Eris barked, rounding on his mate and wife so quickly that Arina cringed back for a moment. “He’s not going to Day.”

“Dawn,” Elain breathed, the memory of his eye still burning in her memory. “He needs to go to Dawn.”

“No Dawn, either—”

“Eris!” Arina snapped, pushing away from the bed to face off with him. “Lucien will die. What do you have against the solar courts?”

Eris looked upward as his brothers shifted uncomfortably behind him. “Dawn is where…I sent her.”

Arina didn’t react. “So? If you won’t let me leverage my contacts in Day, then let me leverage them for Dawn. Or start planning what you’ll say as you bury him—I’ll leave the choice to you.”

“I can ready a horse,” Tanwen murmured, slipping out of the room before Eris could tell him no.

“I’ll take him,” Elain said, squaring her shoulders. “You can claim ignorance, can hunt us, just…give me the night.”

“I’ll find you before you can get out. You can’t go to Spring, Elain Archeron,” Eris warned. “You’ll need to travel through the mountains and into Winter—”

“I’ll warn them you’re coming,” Arina said, lifting her skirts. “I know someone, I—”

“Another male?” Eris snapped, forgetting for a moment that this was about his brother and not his jealousy.

“What are you going to do about it, Eris?” she bit back, eyes flashing with defiance.

Eris snarled out, “Write to him.”

Arina vanished after Tanwen, Cadmus going with her. Elain knew Autumn had hawks they used to deliver messages—perhaps he intended to send one ahead of them. Or, more likely, he wanted to get away from his older brother's rage. Eris looked as though he was unraveling, the stress of his family finally sinking him. Elain looked at Eris once Connall was gone, the last obstacle between her and this plan.

“You cannot fail,” Eris warned her as Elain walked around the bed for the dagger Cadmus had given her. “The journey will be difficult and you are soft.”

“Not so soft,” she replied, heart racing. “I won’t…I won’t fail.”

“If I catch you, I’ll bring you both back and the punishment will be severe. You won’t survive a night in the dungeons in Autumn.”

“You don’t know a thing about what I would or wouldn’t survive, Eris Vanserra,” she retorted hotly. Elain loved nature and so long as nature remembered she was not the enemy, they’d make it.

“You swear you saw his death?” Eris breathed, cocking his head to the side. “Was I the one who made the killing blow?”

“I don’t know,” she said, exhaling a soft breath. “But I swear to you, I saw his death.”

“If you ride hard, you’ll be at the mountains in two days. Arina will ensure someone from Winter meets you on the other side but Elain…”

“I know,” she said, looking at the bulk of Lucien. How would she get him up it? “I won’t fail.”

Easier said than done. Elain waited for the palace to fall asleep before rousing Lucien, who had moments of lucidity before falling unconscious again. He managed to stumble to his feet, one arm slung over her shoulder as they walked. Elain was silent save for her labored breath.

If they were caught, they’d be killed. Elain didn’t let herself think about that as she and Lucien stumbled from the Forest House, likely leaving a trail of blood behind them. How long before Eris begrudgingly called his dogs to follow their scent on the wind? Elain believed Eris would buy as much time as he could and prayed that Beron simply did not notice his youngest son was missing.

It was two days of hard riding to get them to the border.

“Lucien,” she breathed, turning to the man she barely knew, who’d risked his whole life to keep her alive. His remaining good eye was unfocused, trying to find her in the dark stable. Lucien’s powerful body swayed toward her and for a moment she was terrified he’d topple over and take her with her, likely crushing a rib or two as he went.

Elain grabbed his face, touching him willingly for the first time since they’d married. “Lucien, look at me. I need you to climb atop this horse. I can’t help you.”

Elain bit her lower lip when he didn’t respond, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. He had to do this.

“Please,” she whispered. Lucien reached out with a bloodstained hand, touching the soft coat of the animal beside him. She watched the knot in his throat bob, shoulders set with determination. She’d never know where he summoned the strength to haul himself into the saddle Tanwen had quietly prepared for them earlier that day.

Elain merely scrambled up behind him, seating herself between his powerful thighs. Lucien swayed again, causing Elain to twist, once again holding his face in her hands.

“You can’t fall over,” she said, reaching for the belt that once held his sword. With a little maneuvering, she managed to wrap it around them both, effectively anchoring Lucien to her own body. “If you fall, you’ll take me with you.”

Lucien’s head bobbed, forehead knocking against her own. “I won’t fail you, my lady,” he whispered thickly, lashes fluttering shut.

My lady. When had she become his lady? Elain shook her head of the thought even as her eyes drifted toward his mouth. If he’d been well, would she want to kiss him? He was delirious now and maybe she was, too, because her gaze lingered just long enough to make her want.

Shaking her head, Elain dug her heels into the flank of the animal. She’d use her own sight to try and outmaneuver Beron.

Whispering, she said, “I have enough vision for the two of us.”

Lucien’s head dipped, chin pressed to her shoulder. “You could leave,” he said, his breath warm against her neck. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“I can’t,” she replied automatically, not thinking at all. It was merely a fact. The husband she hadn’t wanted had now become more than just an inevitability. For better or worse, their fates were linked. He’d saved her life—it was because of her he was currently missing an eye, his body ravaged from infection. “I won’t.”

The horse was faster than she’d anticipated, Lucien’s arms tight around her body. The belt helped when he swayed, and Elain managed, through the grace of the Mother herself, to keep one hand on the reins and the other dug against Lucien’s thigh. If it hurt him, he never said. At one point, his head fell against her shoulder, hair spilling down her front. He smelled sick, though beneath it all was the familiar scent she found too appealing.

She wanted to stop and drink him in. Elain didn’t understand where the urge to lick him was coming from and though she tried, she couldn’t quite banish the instinct. So she rode, driving the animal practically into the ground—until the sun was high above them. They couldn’t stop for long.

Elain laid Lucien on the forest floor while he babbled deliriously about nonsense. A bubbling brook was close enough for the horse to drink and rest while she cupped the cool water in her hands and brought it to his burning, overheated body.

His face was swollen, the red edges of his wounds scabbed green. She’d hoped, before her vision, that Lucien might preserve his eye. Elain had also hoped, perhaps vainly, that the scars would recede, too. His blood and his magic were trying to fight, but at some point he’d be to the bottom, depleted entirely and the infection would run rampant, unimpeded and uncontrolled. Already, Elain was surprised by the well he could tap into. She’d never seen a hint of any magic at all from Lucien, though she’d never asked him, either.

“Leave me,” he moaned when Elain used the hem of her dress to dab at his injuries.

“Stop it,” she chided in response. “There’s no need for gallantry now.”

“You could do better,” Lucien managed, arching his back as though something hurt him. Something pulled in Elain’s gut, urging her to move again. Get him help—save him before he died. It was an intolerable prospect to her, so miserable that Elain found herself pulling at his wrist to force him back on his feet.

“You’re not getting away from me so easily, Lucien,” she replied. Lucien twisted in her grasp, stumbling a step before reaching for her again. Elain remained where she was, though she grabbed his shoulders to keep him from tumbling to the ground. Opening her mouth, she intended to tell him to stop being so damn noble and just help her help him, but in his fevered delusion, Lucien had other plans.

Fisting her hair, he yanked her closer, slanted his mouth against hers, and kissed her. For someone half dead, Elain had to concede that it was a good kiss. She almost forgot what was happening when their lips collided, his free hand cupping her face with such tenderness that Elain wondered if he even knew who he was kissing.

It was the thought he might think she was someone else—that he was kissing some other female goodbye—that convinced her to pull away even when every urge screamed at her to stay. Lucien didn’t open his eyes, swollen as they were, though she felt like he could see her when he ran his thumb along the bottom edge of her lip.

“I needed to do that,” he breathed, swaying ever so slightly. “If I’m going to die, I needed to know…needed…needed to know what—”

“It’s fine,” Elain interrupted, swallowing hard. “We should keep going.”

Lucien shook his head. “I can’t—”

“You will if you ever want to kiss me again,” she declared, not bothering to admit that it was her who wanted to kiss him. A lot. Over and over, until they were both breathless and stupid enough to continue making bad decisions. Lucien didn’t need to know that, though. Let him think this was all his doing and she was merely helpless to deny him.

“Swear it,” he breathed, still tracing the shape of her mouth.

“If you survive, I’ll let you kiss me again—for as long as you like,” she repeated, hoping he couldn’t hear her racing heart.

“I want to kiss you for a long time,” he said. How typically male was it, she thought, to agree to survive if it meant he might get to undress himself in front of a female. Elain would take what she could get so long as Lucien clung to life for a little longer.

Anything but death. Elain would take anything but his death.

And she had no interest in examining why.

LUCIEN:

Life was a blur to Lucien. Vibrant colors faded in and out, always heralded by the same, soft voice. Elain hadn’t left him, though he was certain he’d told her to. Where was he? He had moments where he thought he was alive, where reality would seep in. Sleeping beneath a blanket of stars, wrapped in a blanket as the wind howled. He thought he remembered his head in Elain’s lap, sleeping fitfully while she cried softly, though he couldn’t be sure if that was a dream.

Lucien clung to a bargain just as tightly as he clung to their bond. Lucien didn’t care if he’d imagined the kiss—a kiss in which he knew she’d kissed him back, nails dug deep into his shoulders—nor did he care if the bargain was merely his infected mind spinning stories. There was the possibility it hadn’t been made up, and she had every intention of kissing him again.

And Lucien intended to live long enough to experience it fully.

There was nothing until there was pain. Lucien thrashed against it, refusing to die. “Stop moving,” a female’s voice ordered before the pain returned. It felt as if someone had taken a hot spoon and begun scooping out whatever remained of his eye. Lucien couldn’t withstand the pure pain, drifting in and out of consciousness until he half wished he was dead. This was more of Beron’s torture—Lucien was certain, given the way the pain radiated from the roots of his hair all the way down to the nails on his feet.

And then it was gone, and he woke, blinking blearily at frosted glass. Elain sat in a chair beside him, curled up beneath a fur lined blanket as she slept. There was something strange about her—some shimmering magic hovering around the edges of her skin he’d never noticed before. The entire room had it, he realized. It glittered blue at the edges, stretched around them like…like a ward.

Lucien rose to his feet as his fingers flew to his eye. A strange clicking greeted him when he blinked, and when he touched, he found cool metal beneath the pads of his fingers. They were in Winter, he realized, though he couldn’t have said why, or even how they’d gotten there. Standing in front of a long mirror, Lucien saw his shirt had been stripped from his body and a new pair of trousers that were decidedly warmer than anything that existed in Autumn now hung from his hips.

He nearly threw up when he saw what was looking back at him. Three long talon marks were cut against his otherwise unblemished skin and his eye…his eye was metal.

“You’re awake,” Elain murmured as Lucien stared in horror. He was ugly, damaged beyond repair—the proof of which was the eye now blinking back at him from his face. “I was afraid you’d die.”

“You should have let me,” Lucien said with more harshness than he’d meant. Behind him, Elain sucked in a soft breath. He knew if he turned, he’d see her perfect face as she looked upon his own. How could she stand it? Lucien needed to just tell her the truth about their bond and let her break it—she deserved better than—

Elain reached him within the span of a breath, palm raised. He hadn’t been prepared for her to shove him back, eyes blazing. “I spent two days on a horse,” she hissed, eyes blazing as she pointed her finger in his face. “I dragged you up a mountain and back down, and halfway across a frozen lake before we were allowed into the High Lords palace. And then I begged Thesan to send me help even though he had no reason to and I was no one at all to him, which took another day during which we all expected you to die, and a fourth after that for one of his healers and inventors to come, fit a new eye to your face, and keep you from succumbing to the infection that nearly ended your life. So don’t you dare stand there and tell me what I should have done.”

Elain’s chest rose and fell rapidly, cheeks burning red with anger or embarrassment, or perhaps both. Lucien was half chastened, still half disgusted. “Have you seen—” Rising up on her tiptoes, Elain mashed her lips against his, eyes wide open. Lucien, too, stared back unmoving, unsure what he should do. Was she trying to silence him or did she want to kiss him? If he held her against him would she balk, upset?

Elain pulled away, cheeks still a vibrant pink. “I have seen you,” she said, her voice breathless. “I like what I see.”

“You’re the only one.”

“Good think you’re only allowed one wife, then,” Elain retorted, flipping a limp curl over her shoulder. “My opinion is the only one that matters.”

He would have crawled over hot coals to hear her call him beautiful. To hear her say she wanted him. Lucien took a breath, trying so hard to hide how insecure he felt. “How embarrassed you must feel, realizing you’re attracted to me.”

Elain only shrugged, plopping down in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. “Not half as embarrassed as you should feel, thinking a couple scars somehow makes you ugly.”

Lucien wanted more—wanted to go to her, pull her against him, and kiss her until he forgot all of it. Elain bit her bottom lip and he saw the unmistakable look of guilt mingled with her defiance. He meant to tell her how grateful he was, but the door swung open and in walked a familiar face.

“Nuan,” he breathed, face splitting into a smile at the sight of her. Of course it would be her behind this. She held her mechanical arm before her without embarrassment and he wondered if he, too, would one day feel the same comfort with his missing eye.

She grinned. “When I heard the Lucien Vanserra needed help from Dawn, I couldn’t help myself. You look better than when your wife brought you in.”

Lucien glanced at Elain, the picture of health in her fur lined, cobalt dress. She was decidedly not making eye contact with him, which told Lucien she didn’t want credit for what had happened. Where were his brothers, he wondered? Surely they’d helped.

“You did a good job,” he told her, offering her a one-armed hug.

“You can see?”

Glancing around, Lucien drank in the weaving spells and wards that crisscrossed the room. “I see better than I ever did.”

Nuan offered a pretty laugh, her dark hair falling like a curtain around her soft face. “It doesn’t grant you anything more than your regular vision, but I’m glad you feel that way.”

Lucien blinked. “It’s—it’s magic—”

“Nope. Just a mechanical eye,” she said with that same, easy grin. Lucien glanced behind him to Elain, her slippered feet toying with a cream colored rug that ran the length of the room. There was no point in arguing with her and yet…Lucien knew it was different. Special, somehow. He’d never had the ability to see spells and wards before. He felt as if he could reach out and pluck them apart like pieces of yarn in fabric, though he didn’t dare—if Kallias had allowed them in, it was at the risk of angering Lucien’s father. No need to draw the ire of another High Lord by leaving him vulnerable to attack.

“Thesan hasn’t invited you to stay,” Nuan continued, unaware of Lucien’s thoughts, “but Helion in Day has said you can stay while you heal, if you like?”

Day was the only court Lucien was rarely invited into. More often than not it was Eris who went, taking over Lucien’s emissary duties to deal with the Helion Spell-Cleaver. Lucien had never taken it personally—Helion hated all the Vanserra’s equally, it seemed, and had only begrudgingly allowed Eris in when pressed, which is, of course, how Eris ended up with Arina.

“Really?”

“You can thank your wife for that,” Nuan said, nodding once again to Elain. “She’s quite charming.”

“It was nothing,” Elain mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

“Kallias wants to see you both, too, when you’re feeling up to it,” Nuan added as she stepped back. “Just to confirm, I think, that you will definitely be leaving.”

Lucien was still looking at Elain. “Got it.”

The door closed quietly behind them. “Beron is angry,” she murmured, finally meeting his gaze. “I was told to leave you to your fate.”

“How did you manage to get me here?” Lucien asked, creeping closer to his wife and mate. Did she feel it now, he wondered? Was this merely denial on her end? Surely she must have felt something when he was hurt, just as Lucien had when he’d heard her scream.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “Luck?”

More like, a mate driven by instinct to protect, though he wasn’t going to be the one to tell her that. Not yet, anyway. Lucien needed a plan, first, and time to execute it. He’d give himself the time in Day to court her properly. To bring her to bed the way he should have on their wedding night, and then, once he knew she cared for him, he’d tell her gently. Give her space to come to terms with it…and then, what? Take her back to Autumn where he was certain she wouldn’t be safe? Where he couldn’t protect her?

Maybe, he reasoned, they could leave in exile in Day. It wasn’t ideal, but…it was something to think about. Lucien made his way to her, holding his breath as he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. He expected her to swat him away—to tell him she didn’t want him to touch her.

Instead, her eye’s fluttered shut. “Thank you,” he said, wishing he could convey the depth of his gratitude. “No one has ever…no one has ever gone to such lengths for me.”

“You saved my life,” she murmured in response, gripping the edge of her chair so tightly he could see the whites of her knuckles. “The least I could do was save yours.”

Lucien could only offer her a smile in response. Fate was a strange mistress. He ought to have known better than to question her judgment. Right then, right there, Lucien sent a silent prayer up to the mother.

Thank you for Elain Archeron.

#elucien #i was sweating this chapter today

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bcdrawsandwrites · 5 months

Text

[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fic banner featuring a silhouette of Pyro using the stock flamethrower and setting things on fire. Pyro is light gray with darker outlines, with its class symbol and canister markings in orange, and its lenses yellow-white. They are on a dark gray background with faint gray text behind them reading numbers from 999,996 to 999,999. The title is in the top right in yellow-white text on a darker background reading, "CHAPTER ONE: PYROMANCY." /end ID]

Flickering

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Spy, Pyro, Engineer, Medic, Sniper Warnings: General references to trauma, TF2-typical violence Fic Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it’s never that easy.

Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.

And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason. Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve Notes: I have no idea what was supposed to happen in the final comic, so for the sake of my sanity I'm going to have the mercs go back to business as usual, somehow.

---

Chapter 1: Pyromancy Summary: In which Spy takes on a new mission.

---

After everything was said and done, the scars they endured were more than physical.

Sniper had been the first to admit it, quietly mentioning during the chaos between rounds the fact that he sometimes still felt the pain of bullets long-gone, and not the ones they endured from their usual matches.

(The matches had resumed, even after the death of all three Mann brothers. It was a touch of normalcy that they all needed.)

Heavy made frequent trips to Medic's office, not for any treatment, but just in case there was still some Australium left in that brute's veins and he came after them again.

Spy, meanwhile, had escaped unscathed and had absolutely nothing to hide from anyone.

But as for the others, this was, of course, all very normal. They'd all been through a lot of strange events—or stranger than usual—and a bit of lingering trauma was to be expected. Nothing to be concerned over.

Except for one thing.

Spy had noticed it during a match. An enemy merc had been preparing to sneak up on Pyro, who was removing a sapper from a sentry. But the second they got too close, Pyro swung around with its homewrecker, striking the merc again and again until they despawned. On the surface it had seemed little different from how Pyro usually handled things. Even so, something about the incident felt... off to Spy.

So he decided to keep an eye on things. During matches, whenever he could, he would take a moment to observe Pyro. He observed it charging into battle, firing its flare gun with impressive precision. Efficient, and yet...

Another moment he caught was when it had a brush with an enemy spy. The spy had just attempted to backstab Pyro when it swung around, striking with its ax and slashing, again and again. When the bloody remains disappeared, Pyro stared blankly at the red stain they’d left behind for a few uncomfortable moments before moving on.

At this point, Spy wasn't even sure what he was looking for, or why he cared, beyond the fact that it was his part of his job to study people's behavior should he need to imitate it later. No one else had taken notice of any of this—or if they had, they said nothing of it. If he just dropped the matter, likely no one would care, and they could continue to move past the mess from the past six months.

...But a little poking around wouldn't hurt. It wasn't like the Administrator was sending him off on any high-profile missions right now.

Engineer's workshop was meticulously organized, and a place Spy did not typically set foot in, for good reason. Instinctively he cloaked the second he heard the beep. The sentry's gun was trained on him anyway, but, recognizing a friendly merc, did not shoot.

"I'd say it's funny seein' you here, if I could see you," Engineer said, following his sentry's eyeless gaze.

With a snort, Spy de-cloaked.

Engineer's gaze darkened as he rested the Gunslinger over the top of the machine. "You ain't here to practice with those sappers of yours, are ya?"

"What? No. I have no need for that."

"Huh." Withdrawing his prosthesis, he relaxed slightly. "What can I do ya for?"

"I seek... information." Spy strode closer, idly lighting a cigarette. "You often work with Pyro, no?"

Engineer shrugged. "Well, sure. Don't need to explain to you how we collaborate on the battlefield. Sometimes collaborate here in the workshop, too. That fella's got a knack for makin' new flamethrowers, and it'll sometimes ask for my input." He tilted his head. "Why? You lookin' to partner with it for something?"

"Ugh, no." Spy shuddered. "No. I was wondering if you had... noticed its behavior on the battlefield as of late."

At that, Engineer leaned forward, rubbing a finger against his chin. "Lately? Mumbles's been doing pretty well on the battlefield. Better than I can remember, even." Shrugging, he sat back. "Guess it's been missin' the usual matches, pointless as they are, same as the rest of us."

Exhaling a stream of smoke through his nose, Spy looked the Engineer in the goggles. "And outside of battle?"

"Dunno. Haven't seen it much."

"Do you find this... concerning?"

"Nope." Engineer looked away. "I know I was pretty much out of the fray for all of that, but it sounds like all y'all had it pretty rough. Don't blame anyone for wantin' to take a bit of time to themselves. I'm sure it'll come around."

"Perhaps." Sighing, Spy turned, heading back toward the door. "I'll leave you to... whatever sort of contraptions you have here."

"What are you worried about?"

Spy stopped in the doorway. "What?"

"You ain't the type to come in to ask about someone for no reason."

Spy glared over his shoulder. "I worry about nothing."

"All right," Engineer replied, and resumed tinkering with the sentry. When the fellow merc said nothing more, Spy went on his way.

No, he was not worried. But as his mind wandered back to their short time imprisoned in Gray Mann's base, he was wondering. And there was someone else who might be able to satisfy his curiosity.

Medic's lab, in contrast to Engineer's space, was cluttered and chaotic, not helped by the doves nesting and perching wherever they could find space, nor the young baboon scampering around the floor. The sight of Heavy sitting on a chair made Spy pause, wondering if he was interrupting something, only to realize that the Heavy was only reading a book. He did not look up when Spy entered. The baboon, meanwhile, scampered up to Medic (who was studying something at his desk) and tugged on the hem of his coat.

"Ah, Aristotle. Did you find it?" Medic asked, bending down to accept a small red vial from the baboon's paw. "Let's see..." Adjusting his glasses, he peered at the vial's label, only to frown and toss the vial aside, where it shattered on the floor. "Aristotle! I told you I needed an O-positive blood sample, not another B-positive!"

The monkey, evidently named Aristotle, gave a sad chirp.

"Now, now, try again," he said, and shoo'd the monkey off. "Unless you want this experiment to fail, anyway." He watched the monkey scurry back across the room and run past Spy, and did a double-take. "Ah, Spy! I didn't hear you come in."

"I should hope not, or else I'd be doing my job poorly." He sidestepped the broken glass as he approached.

"Are you recovering well from your emergency blood transfusion?" Medic asked, flipping through some papers at his desk.

"Actually, I had a question about that."

The Medic's face lit up. "Ah! You're in luck!" Setting the papers down, he gestured excitedly toward a series of vials lined up in front of him. "I'm currently working on a method of separating different blood types that may have gotten—hmm—mixed together, by some means, and I needed a human test subject to—"

"No."

Medic's expression immediately soured. "Oh." He turned away, flipping through the papers again. "Well what do you want? I'm very busy."

"You also performed an emergency transfusion on the Pyro, did you not?"

"Oh, yes!" Medic smiled as he held up a paper; Spy was able to spot the Pyro's class symbol on it. "Yes, it's always fascinating working with that one."

Spy didn't have to ask what was fascinating about the only non-human mercenary on their team. "Did you notice anything... unusual when you performed the operation?"

At that, Medic scratched his head. "Well now... I was quite busy at the time, trying to prevent everyone, including you, from dying from blood loss, you know. I didn't have time to focus on the details."

"But you did open Pyro's suit to slice it open and fill its chest cavity with blood."

"Yes, yes. Your point?"

"And you didn't see anything strange when you did this?"

Medic clicked his tongue. "I told you, I had no time to focus on the details!" Sighing, he turned back to his desk. "Besides, it's hard to notice anything past all that soot."

Spy paused. "Soot?"

"Yes, it gets everywhere," Medic replied, as though that had answered the question. "Anyway, why do you ask?"

Tempted as he was to ask about what on earth lied beneath that suit, he held himself back, and very nearly shot back a "classified" at the doctor. However, something else struck him, and he hummed. "You worked with those other mercenaries for a time. Were you familiar with their pyro?"

"Oh, Beatrice?" Medic chuckled. "Yes, she was an interesting one. Quite sadistic, I would say. But what does this have to do with—?"

"She interrogated our Pyro for an extended period of time, and I am wondering if this may account for its strange behavior."

"Strange behavior?" Medic echoed, then laughed, the noise grating on Spy's ears. "No, our pyromaniac is just as crazy as it ever was, in case you haven't noticed! Perhaps you could do with a head examination." In one swift motion he retrieved a clipboard. "I could put you in for next Tuesday—"

"No, thank you." And with that, Spy strode out of the lab, nearly stepping on Aristotle's tail on the way out.

As he crossed the base, he tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped on it as he passed.

This was ridiculous. Was it not obvious to anyone else? Or was he really just looking for something that wasn't there?

He found himself glaring out a window, staring out at the desert. It was growing dark, now, and he had no reason to be hanging around here—several of the other mercs had already gone home, or to whatever hole they slept in.

The hair stood on the back of Spy's neck, and he whipped around to see someone staring at him from the other end of the hall. He shuddered. "Don't do that."

"Am I not allowed to look at people without a scope up to my eye?" Sniper asked, approaching Spy. He held a cup of coffee in his hand that fogged up his glasses as he brought it to his mouth. Nonetheless, he joined Spy in looking out the window. "You're here late."

"As are you." Spy glared out into the darkening twilight. "Don't you have a van to sleep in?"

"Don't much feel like sleeping," Sniper answered, taking another swig of coffee.

"Then go somewhere else to produce your jarate."

The Sniper only heaved a sigh. "Went to the phone again."

"Yes, very exciting." Spy continued to glare out the window before it struck him what the man was talking about. His annoyance quickly melted. "...Oh." He hesitated for a moment before glancing at Sniper. "My apologies."

"Been a minute since I've done that," he said, and shook his head.

The two stood in awkward silence for a moment.

"...Since you're here," Spy said, "perhaps you could help me with something."

With a lifeless shrug, Sniper did not look away from the window. "Shoot."

"Tempting as it would be to kill you right now, I must decline," Spy said, eliciting a chuckle from the other merc. "Have you paid any attention to Pyro on the battlefield?"

"Some. It watches my back sometimes. Why?"

"Have you noticed anything... strange about it?"

"Hmmm." Sniper turned to face him, and Spy nearly got his hopes up. "Why, have you?"

Spy grit his teeth. "At this point, I'm starting to wonder. Its behavior seems unusual to me for some reason, but no one else in this stupid base seems to think so."

"Everyone's been actin' different, mate. Including you."

Something snapped, and Spy pounded a fist against the windowsill. "Can you answer the question or not?"

Sniper was silent for a moment before he tipped his head back, draining the rest of his coffee. "If somethin's up with Pyro, it hasn't said anything to me about it."

"You—!" Spy sputtered, but Sniper was already leaving. He glared after him, fuming, before spinning around and storming toward the base's entrance.

But as he neared the door, he froze.

It hasn't said anything to me about it.

That was it.

The next day, during their match, Spy kept a closer eye on Pyro than before.

The merc was charging through the map, blasting its flamethrower at anyone and everyone who came near it. If a fellow merc was ever on fire, it quickly put them out before going straight back to setting everything else on fire.

Months ago, when committing such atrocities, it would typically be giggling and laughing and whooping in glee as it stormed through the burning destruction.

Now, it was dead silent, its movements sharp and hurried as it set every enemy in sight ablaze.

Spy, who was cloaked, nearly gave himself away, laughing as his suspicions were confirmed. Yes, something was for sure wrong with Pyro, and he was not going crazy. Satisfied, he resumed his role in the match as normal, decloaking and backstabbing a soldier that the Pyro had missed.

But as the match came to an end and the team returned to their base, it dawned on him: Yes, he'd confirmed that something was wrong with Pyro.

But he still didn't know why.

#tf2 spy #tf2 pyro #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #team fortress 2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 #my art #my writing #fanfic #flickering fanfic #don't forget to read the prologue!

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meiliarotten · 1 year

Text

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Two: Electric Boogaloo

Day 7: Mechanical Intervention (Overstimulation)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Engineer x Fem!Reader

Summary: Engie keeps going to bed late in the night and decided to make sure you don’t feel neglected.

Tags: Overstimulation, inappropriate use of the Gunslinger, vibrators

Word Count: 2.7k

The Masterlist

The oversized shirt you wore to bed was far more important to you than most would think. Having once belonged to Dell, you had ‘borrowed’ it from his half of the dresser one night when you happened to forget to do your laundry. Now it was an item of comfort for you. It made you feel like he was here with you, even though the two of you had been apart for so long.

You rolled your eyes, realizing for a moment how melodramatic you were being. It wasn’t like Engie had gone off to war. In fact, he was literally under the same roof as you, just a few rooms away in his workshop. However he had been holed up in there for so many nights now, working tirelessly on his sentries and dispensers, writing calculation after calculation, all of which you had no hope of understanding. To put it frankly, you missed him.

With a sigh, you opened the door of your shared room, glancing down the hall towards the workshop. You could see the light shining from under the crack in the door, indicating that he was still hard at work. You began to walk towards that light, unsure of what your goal was exactly. It wasn’t likely, but maybe you could convince him to turn in early for once. At the very least, it would be nice to pay him a visit.

You opened the door to the workshop slowly, finding Engie sitting in a chair, hunched over some blueprints with a half disassembled sentry at his side. It was a position you had found him in many times before. It was a wonder how his back wasn’t in constant pain. You walked up behind him, not realizing how quiet you had been until you wrapped your arms around Engie’s shoulders, only for him to jump before realizing that it was just you.

“Good lord, darlin,’ don’t sneak up on me like that!” he said, holding a hand to his chest. Engie was always weary about being approached from behind, especially with how often he was the victim of spies on the battlefield. That fact had apparently slipped your mind.

“Sorry,” you sighed, nestling your face against his shoulder. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“What’s wrong?” Engie asked, noticing the twinge of sadness in your voice. “Aren’t you usually in bed by now?”

You held onto him tighter, biting your lip. Eventually, you decided not to hesitate and simply come out with it. “Come back to bed.” You could tell by the sigh you got in response that you weren’t going to get the answer you were hoping for.

“I’m sorry darlin.’ You know I have to get my work done first.”

You walked around to face Engie, giving the best damn puppy dog eyes you could muster. You weren’t too proud to beg. “Please, Dell?”

His eyes lit up at the use of his real name, softening as he reached out and pulled you close. “Oh honey, I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?” he asked. You nodded, letting yourself be pulled into Engie’s lap. “You sweet thing.”

He leaned in to kiss you. You eagerly reciprocated, desperate for the sensation of his lips against yours. It was more than the two of you had shared in at least a week, and you were practically starved for it. You tugged incessantly at his shirt, a silent plea for more. When you parted for breath you pressed your face into his shoulder again, muffling a needy whine.

“Now, I might not be able to come back to bed just yet, but I know the perfect way to make it up to you,” Engie said, pulling at the waistband of your pajama bottoms. You quickly stood and removed them yourself, leaving you in nothing but your underwear and a loose fitting shirt. Before you could take off anything else you were pulled back into Engie’s lap. “You look cute like that, you know?” he said. “In nothing but my shirt and your panties, just lovely.”

You blushed, but gave him a confused look. “Well, the shirt can stay, but doesn’t the underwear kinda have to come off eventually?”

“Not necessarily,” Engie said with a hint of mischievousness in his voice. His gloved hand ran up your thigh, and you let out a soft sigh. His other hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you steady and secure on his lap. Your body was already beginning to heat up as he reached your hip, caressing you gently and making you whimper. Usually such a small gesture wouldn’t get a reaction out of you, but it had been so long.

It felt like an eternity before he finally moved to run his fingers over your clothed slit. “Oh fuck,” you murmured as the fabric slowly began to dampen. You leaned your head on Engie’s shoulder, eyes rolling.

“That’s it, just relax and enjoy yourself,” Engie whispered into your ear, placing soft kisses on your jawline and trailing down to your neck. You moaned softly, unable to resist the urge to roll your hips as his fingers found your clit. How were you already so close? You must have been really pent up. “Are you close already, sweetheart?” Engie asked, seeing how you were squirming in his lap.

“I think so,” you stammered, gripping Engie’s shirt as you tried to hold back. “Fuck, it just feels so good.”

“You poor, sweet thing,” he crooned. “Laying all by your lonesome for so long. I’ll bet you haven’t even touched yourself in the past week.”

He wasn’t wrong. Most of the time you just went to sleep, hoping you would get some attention the next day. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the desire or the means to get yourself off, you just wanted to let your need build. You knew that the more it built the more rewarding it would be when Engie finally made time for you, and in a way, you were now getting exactly what you had been craving.

“How about you just go on and come for me?” he said, smirking as he circled your clit with his fingers. “I know you want to, and I wanna see it. I don’t want you to hold back.”

The idea that Engie was eager to see you come coupled with the pressure of his fingers was enough to push you over the edge. You called out his name in broken syllables, gripping onto him tightly as you rode out your orgasm.

“Ah ah, keep those pretty eyes open,” he said. You hadn't even realized you had been squeezing your eyes shut until he pointed it out. “I want you to look at me, honey.” You groaned, opening your eyes with some struggle. The look of admiration on Engie’s face immediately made the effort worth it.

You were breathless, panting as he held you in his arms. Your face was flushed down to your neck and the fabric of your underwear was slick with your release. You looked like a proper wreck, yet you couldn’t be happier, especially since Engie hadn’t stopped showering you with kisses since you came down from your high.

“So pretty,” he sighed. “I want to see more. You can come again for me, right sweetheart?”

Oh, you liked the sound of that. You gave him a nod and a breathless, “I think so.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, pressing your lips to his in a surprisingly chaste kiss. “Just be gentle. I’m still sensitive.”

“Of course. Here, let’s get these out of the way.” He pulled your underwear down your legs, letting them drop to the floor. You spread your legs wider, watching as Engie removed his glove, revealing his prosthetic hand.

The Gunslinger had always fascinated you. In fact your inquiries about that marvel of craftsmanship was what had initially drawn you and Engie together. The metal glinted in the yellow glow of the workshop’s lights, highlighting every miniscule detail.

When those mechanical fingers ran over your thigh, you were pleasantly surprised to find that they weren’t cold at all. You had no idea how, but despite being made of metal, the Gunslinger always seemed to match an average human’s body temperature. Sometimes it could even be a bit warmer, which was quite comforting if you wanted some extra heat on an especially cold night. You whimpered as his fingers dipped between your thighs, slowly pressing into you.

Engie watched your face, checking for any sign that you were uncomfortable, that it was too much. When he saw none he continued, sliding his fingers into you to the last knuckle. That earned some louder sounds from you, especially when he began thrusting his digits in and out. You were lucky that no one but Engie came to this part of the base during this time of night. Anyone who overheard you would have immediately known exactly what was going on within the workshop.

“I love those noises of yours. I wonder how loud you can get?” he mused, watching your expression melt into one of ecstasy. Then those fingers curled inside you, striking that sensitive bundle of nerves that was guaranteed to have you moaning. And you most certainly did moan, bucking against his fingers with a harsh cry. However your sounds only reached their peak when Engie paired the curling of his fingers with the stroking of his thumb over your clit.

Your thighs shook as you came again, arching back as your fingers dug into Engie’s leg. You would have fallen to the floor if it wasn’t for his free arm being wrapped firmly around you, keeping you seated safely on his lap. “God damn, that was intense,” Engie chuckled. “I must be doing a good job!”

“Don’t tease me,” you gasped, still trying to catch your breath as your orgasm subsided.

“I would never, darlin.’ But I can’t deny that you're boosting my ego a bit, and I appreciate that.” He waited for you to come down fully, your breathing evening out and your trembling beginning to subside before he continued. “Now, there was one more thing I wanted to show you, if you’re up for it. You see that button at the base of the Gunslinger?” You nodded, following his gaze and immediately spotting the red button where metal met flesh. You were pretty sure it had always been there. It never even occurred to you to ask what its purpose was. “How about you go ahead and press it,” he suggested.

That was all the temptation you needed. Nervously, you reached out and pressed the button, only to let out a startled gasp when the metal appendage started vibrating. “Holy shit,” was all you managed to say in response, making Engie laugh.

“Yeah, that was about the reaction I expected,” he said. “I’ve been working on this in my free time. It was originally gonna be a Valentine's Day gift, but I just couldn’t wait to show it off.”

You were both impressed and baffled. “Are you telling me this is what you’ve been doing in this workshop these past several nights?”

“Not entirely,” Engie said. “Like I said, it was just a pet project.”

You sighed, knowing that you were still recovering from your second orgasm. A third would be a difficult feat, but you couldn’t deny your own curiosity. Where else would you find a man who would literally program his own hand for your pleasure? Plus, you liked the idea of a challenge. “Well, how about we take this little innovation for a test drive?” you asked, giving Engie a seductive look.

He mirrored your expression. “I was hoping you would say that, sweetheart.”

Engie took everything much slower this time, only circling around your clit. Any direct stimulation would surely overwhelm you, and he didn’t want that, at least not yet. Still, you immediately started trembling, not at all prepared for the intensity of the vibrations. That’s not to say it didn’t feel quite nice though. You bit your lip, stifling any moans that tried to escape.

“Don’t start holding back on me now, honey,” Engie said the moment he noticed you were trying to keep quiet. “I wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make.” He began kissing your neck, rubbing firmer circles until your muffled whimpers turned into full on moans once again.

His fingers slipped into you, offering a whole new range of intensity as they curled and thrust against your most sensitive spots. You rocked shamelessly against his palm, forcing his fingers deeper. It was exhausting yet so immensely pleasurable. You bucked and he worked his fingers, both of you ever so gradually working towards a third orgasm.

When you finally did come it happened rather suddenly, starting as a small building of pleasure that quickly escalated until your thighs were quivering and your back was arching. The sound you made when you climaxed was more akin to a sob than a moan.

“Good girl. There’s even more where that came from,” Engie said, not even pulling his fingers out. The implication was clear.

“Dell, I don’t know if I can,” you whimpered.

“Just one more time for me, darlin’,” Engie said between soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks. “I know you can do it.” His words and his touch were paradoxically comforting and overwhelming. Still, you were effectively tempted to try, signaling your willingness with a shaky nod. Even so, you couldn’t stifle your rather harsh reaction to the feeling of the vibrations becoming stronger.

“Dell! Oh fuck!” Your body sizzled, every sensation feeling like electricity on your skin. If your mind had been clearer you would have been astounded at the effort it must have taken to add not only a vibration function to the Gunslinger, but also multiple settings for said vibrations. However your mind was anything but clear. Engie may have been speaking to you, perhaps crooning words of praise, talking about how much he enjoyed your sensitive body, or how helplessly adorable you looked when you squirmed in his lap. Whatever it was, it all faded into the background as your other senses began to take over.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the pleasure became overwhelming, almost unbearable. It was a constant barrage of touches, moans, and trembling bodies. There was barely any buildup to the fourth and final orgasm, only an unwavering sensation and a sudden, shaking, screaming climax that seemed to hit you out of nowhere, leaving your body as an over sensitive wreck, squirming and reaching for anything to ground yourself.

That thing you were reaching for ended up being Engie himself. You clutched onto him for dear life even long after the aftershocks had faded, still shaking, face red and hot from a few tears that managed to escape. “I’ve got you, darlin,’” Engie whispered, keeping you steady even as your body trembled beneath his touch. The last thing he wanted was you falling off his lap. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Slowly, your body stopped shivering and your death grip on Engie’s shoulders finally loosened, leaving you to go limp in his arms. Your tears dried and your heart rate dropped, the rush of adrenaline fading until all you were left with was blissful relaxation.

“I’m guessing that you’re more than satisfied now, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Engie asked, allowing himself a smug look once he was sure you had recovered enough. “Did I manage to make up for all the nights that I missed?”

You let out a weak laugh. “God, you definitely did. I just hope you don't expect me to go back to bed. There’s no way I’m going to be able to walk back to our room after that.”

Engie chuckled, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “Of course not, honey. Just relax here.” His hand rubbed up and down your back, a soothing and welcome sensation to your still quite sensitive body. “Just close your eyes. If you fall asleep, I’ll carry you back to bed, alright?”

“And you’ll stay, right?” you asked, looking up at him hopefully. He gave you a soft smile, brushing your hair out of your face and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Of course darlin.’ I’ll stay.”

#tf2 x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #merc x reader #minors dni #smut #tf2 smut #team fortress 2 #cross posted on ao3 #tf2 #tf2 fanfiction #kinktober #engineer x reader #engie x reader #engineer tf2 #tf2 engie #engie tf2 #tf2 engineer

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