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shesjustanothergeek · 7 months ago

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The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Eight: The Lord of the Tides

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I'm posting a chapter within two weeks and not a month? What sorcery is this? Anyway, thank you for staying with me through these chapters. We're getting to the juicy stuff here soon, which will be very angsty. I also want to remind everyone that this is a dark fic that deals with suicide, SA, and severe mental illness. You'll hate some of these characters and their actions and have questions about them as the story progresses, but everything has a reason, and it'll all tie together eventually. Just have faith, babes.

Chapter Warnings: misogyny, eugenics, mentions of and trauma related to COCSA, suicidal ideations, severe mental illness, self-deprecating thoughts, and sexual harassment.

The Great Hall echoed with the clamor of anxious voices. The petition summoned all the court members, seemingly attempting to embarrass your family publicly. Although hearings like these did not necessitate the presence of all the Lords and Ladies, they were all there, rendering the open space oppressively stuffy and cramped. The Iron Throne commanded attention with its imposing presence. Fashioned from the melted swords of Aegon the Conqueror’s enemies, it formed a seat that threatened anyone who ventured too close to its pointed metal surface.

Daemon was conversing with your mother, and his strong fists clasped over his stomach as he leaned in to speak into her ear. Luke stood by her side, picking at his slender fingers while cowering beneath his cloak. You felt sorry for your younger brother. He didn’t want to be the Lord of the Tides and despised the idea so much that it became a fear of the sea. Part of you believed that Jace should inherit the Driftwood Throne since he was the second-born, but your mother’s advisors pressured that if Jacaerys married you, he wouldn’t be able to rule the Seven Kingdoms and High Tide, so Luke was next in line.

Your stepsister Rhaena was seated on the other side of you and Jace. You glanced at her slender form, noticing her white hair knotted into thick, cylindrical locs piled atop her head. She nodded toward your brother, who looked at his shoes with an undignified pout. You stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Jace’s body. He tried not to show how your gentle actions comforted him in front of the onlookers, subtly leaning into your side.

The hairs on your neck prickled as if someone was watching you closely. You caught a glimpse of your eldest uncle’s sullen face meeting yours. Aegon’s looming stare was fixed on you and your connection with your brother, his lips curving into a frown. Some of you wanted to return his stare with mockery for his audacity, but you held your decorum, fearing what his anger could entail if you went too far. Years ago, you experienced his kindness, leaving an irreparable scar on your soul.

You sensed the anxiety rising at the mere thought of having to confront your eldest uncle once more. Despite six years having passed, the wounds still feel fresh. Clutching Jace tightly to your side, you battle the overwhelming temptation to seek solace within his luxurious robes as a torrent of memories came rushing back as the petition commences.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds,” Otto Hightower spoke, his voice booming across the Great Hall, “we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As the Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“The Crown will now hear the petitions.”

Aegon felt a surge of frustration as he watched you avoid making eye contact, unable to bear the sight of you being affectionate with someone else. You had been his closest ally until Aemond’s actions shattered everything. With a scowl, he directed his gaze toward the ground and decided to converse with you about the years past. The eldest Prince was resolute in his determination to make you see that he was not the one at fault.

“Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon,” the Hand spoke, announcing the challenger to the room.

The individual accountable for this incident stepped up, adorned in an opulent doublet of rich velvet in a deep navy shade, almost black. He briefly acknowledged the presence of Lord Corlys’s wife. As he drew nearer, you found yourself in the presence of Ser Vaemond for the second time in your life. His facial hair displayed a striking blend of salt and pepper, evidence of the many decades of life experience that distinguished him from you.

“My Queen,” he greeted with a nod, “my Lord Hand.” Luke visibly bristled at his Great Uncle’s voice, retreating further into his cloak and your mother’s comforting presence.

If the Gods were fair beings, they would strike Lord Vaemond down where he stood for daring to spout treasonous lies before the Court. The mere petition was a ploy to publicly embarrass and cast doubt upon your mother’s claim as heir to the Iron Throne. This was why he chose to pounce like a lion in wait for its prey onto the opportunity of his older brother getting injured. It was as if Lord Vaemond had already declared his brother dead before he returned to his bed. You were raised by a second son and understood too well of their lusts for what the eldest sibling had.

As you tightly gripped Jace’s hand, you made a solemn vow to take the necessary action, not just to protect your family but also for the greater good of your kingdom. This would be the first time you would employ your extensive knowledge of herbs and medicinal practices for a malevolent purpose, but you were willing to do whatever it took for their sake. Throughout history, many distinguished individuals have fallen victim to choking on wine or food, which has proven fatal for even those of lesser stature.

“The history of our noble houses extends past the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Old Valyria, our House became the last of their kind.” You glanced at your mother while Vaemond droned eloquently, her regard downcast with a disapproving smirk. “Our forebears came to this land, knowing they would fail; it would be the end of their bloodlines and name. I have spent my entire life defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest kin, his blood,” the second son petitioned.

Out of the corner of your vision, you spotted Princess Rhaenys, her stare boring holes into the back of her good brother’s skull. Your worries that the Queen Who Never Was would not side with Luke and his claim lessened as you noted the irritation on her face, the fury at Vaemond’s claim that he had the right to be Lord of the Tides and not her, as if her rule during Corlys’ absence meant that the Driftwood Throne was not in safe hands until Luke was ready.

Otto stared at the man with a neutral expression, but his eyes betrayed his genuine emotions. Arrogance and pride shine through, revealing his bias. “It’s a true, unimpeachable blood of the House of Velaryon that runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my son’s, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon,” your mother interrupted, causing everyone in the room to direct their attention to her. “If you cared so much about your House’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition-”

You sucked in a nervous breath, your gaze flickering to your mother as you scratched at your scalp. She knew better than to interrupt during a petition to the Crown. She would have scolded you for such an act. Perhaps since it wasn’t her father, she felt the ability to speak out of turn was appropriate. Even the daughter of the King wasn’t allowed such liberties.

“You will have a chance to make your petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” the Queen interrupted, causing your simmering vexation to spike into a rolling boil. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing him to be heard.”

You understood Queen Alicent’s opinion but couldn’t quell the rise of frustrated tears at her words. It was not her place to order your mother. She was a wife to the King, a consort, and whatever jurisdiction she had was given to her by a man. She held no real power, and remembering that would do her well.

As if Alicent heard your thoughts, her amber eyes flicked to you. You felt your stomach lurch as the bread you had earlier threatened to decorate the stone floor. You did not like the Queen after what she did to your mother and her obsession with you. Her possessiveness was something you never understood, nor did you want to. Whatever the Queen had twisted and distorted you to be inside her mind was not something you desired to give fruit to, disregarding her pleading looks as you focused on the Lord before you.

Ser Vaemond turned to stare smugly at Rhaenyra, continuing with his rant of blood purity and superiority. “What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, but you still wouldn’t recognize it.”

A tugging at your bell sleeve brought your attention to Jace, noting how you unconsciously scratched at your scalp. Suddenly, you realized that in the moment’s intensity with Aemond, you had dropped your headpiece in the hall. Swiftly nodding that you were all right, Jace began to stroke the back of your clenched knuckles in a silent gesture of support. Your hand had long forgotten its comforting touch as it blanched from ire.

“This is about the future and survival of my House, not yours,” Vaemond finished, staring hard at your Luke as you cringed.

Jace did not let the Lord or the three people frighten you for long, subtly shifting to block him and all other stares from view like the moat of iron spikes surrounding Maegor’s Holdfast. Why were they all looking at you? The Lords and Ladies. Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. You silently willed them to stop, but it was for naught.

The Lord turned from Luke, his prideful grin duller as he addressed the Queen and Hand. “This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my House and line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor,” Vaemond finally concluded, taking a few steps back, “the Lord of Driftmark, the Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond,” Otto concluded atop a throne that was not his as the second son gave one last grimace toward your family.

With the retreating of the Lord, you were given the perfect view of the Green children, the eldest still very much disinterested in what was happening around him, shifting on his feet as if he was itching to leave the room, which you supposed was true. The second child was attempting to dissociate from the world around her, uncomfortable with the animosity between the two houses, her golden dress the opposite of her appearance. The third and final member seemed to match his Mother and Grandsire, an air of superiority radiating from his toned body that sent shivers to your core.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” the Hand called, “you may now speak for your son, Prince Lucerys Velaryon.”

Your mother approached before the steps of the Iron Throne, her body language openly depicting her ire at the whole matter. Her complete disregard for the seriousness of the situation caused you to crack a smile, looking at Jace in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“If I am forced to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding this court that nearly twenty years ago in this very room-”

Your mother’s remarks were cut short by the creaking of hinges, the grand doors to the Great Hall opening to reveal the rhythmic tapping of a cane.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of The Andals, the Roynar, The First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

Gasps echoed through the expansive room as all eyes turned to your mother. She gazed in astonishment as her father appeared in public for the first time in years. The King of the Seven Kingdoms, half his face concealed by a golden mask, made his way across the grand throne room, causing a stir among the onlookers.

You recalled that six years ago, there was only a tiny sore on his cheek, such a minuscule gash that festered and grew to eat away at his flesh until you could see the rotting teeth within his skull. Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened to the steady tapping of your Grandsire, your heart unable to watch the hunched figure.

The Hand seemed more shocked than any. His stoic face of pride morphed into one of stunned surprise as your Grandsire made his way to the bottom steps of the Iron Throne.

“I will sit on the throne today,” the King rasped, his entire weight resting on the dragon head of his walking stick.

“Your Grace,” Otto reluctantly acknowledged, gaping wide as he took his place next to his daughter and her children.

A kingsguard quickly rushed to the side of his ruler, briefly assisting before Viserys weakly shoved him away. You couldn’t watch this—watch someone once so full of joy and love for his kin struggle to walk the stairs of his ancestors as you nestled your face into Jace’s shoulder. The sound of fallen metal echoed in the room, bringing your attention upward. Your Grandsire’s crown had fallen onto the stairs before the throne as a quiet grunt of discontent puffed past his chapped lips. Daemon was behind his brother before anyone was the wiser, assisting the last remnants of his late parents’ love to his ruling seat and placing the golden Crown of Jaehaerys on the remaining tatters of silver hair.

While you indulged in a lavish meal of quail and lamb on the breathtaking island of Dragonstone, you could aid him, but unfortunately, you were unaware of his plight. Overcome with remorse for not setting aside your troubles to support your Grandsire, you shed tears uncontrollably.

“Sister, you’re crying,” he whispered below the shell of your ear. You nodded silently, whipping away the stray water that collected on your warm cheek.

Jace knew your strong aversion to displaying any hint of vulnerability through tears. He recognized that you viewed it as a manifestation of a perceived girlish weakness that you deemed incompatible with your role as heir to the Seven Kingdoms. He felt helpless as he witnessed you, unable to offer the solace he longed to provide.

Staring at both of you with a fierce scowl across his narrow pink lips, Aemond believed you deserved to experience pain. However, he struggled with his emotions, attempting to quash the pang piercing his dark heart. Aemond envisioned himself as the unyielding pillar, braving the tumultuous waves during a tempest at sea. He saw himself as your shelter from the salty waters, ready to wipe away any tears that adorned your skin. Jacaerys was far from being a man deserving of a princess, unlike…

The Prince’s chest rumbled with a grunt of discontent as he resisted completing his thought despite knowing the truth in his heart. Upon hearing the sound, Aegon glanced at his brother with a perplexed expression and followed his line of sight with a mix of understanding and bitterness, forming a frown on his face.

“I must admit my confusion,” your Grandsire spoke, his frail voice reverberating through the high walls of the hall. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.” You did not need to look at Vaemond to see his outrage. You could sense it from where you stood twenty paces away, your tears slowly drying as you gazed at the disappointed Queen. “The only one present who might offer keener insights into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

Everyone turned to the woman as she processed her cousin’s words. “Indeed, your grace,” she nodded, taking a moment to look at her brother-in-law.

Eyes followed the Queen Who Never Was as she spoke, her voice so smooth and elegant you felt envy for it at the back of your mind. “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark passes through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son, Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed.”

The atmosphere in the room was charged with a tumult of emotions. Anger, betrayal, shock, and relief swirled around the Great Hall like a powerful storm. Ser Vaemond was furious, deeply hurt by his good sister’s words. To him, being a true Velaryon meant everything, and he couldn’t bear the thought of his bastard nephew, born from a woman pretending to be virtuous, tarnishing his family’s name and the honor of the realm. He was resolute in his refusal to accept this situation. Vaemond’s bloodline was solid and pure, unyielding like the sea.

“Princess Rhaenyra has informed me of her desire to marry her son Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Princess Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

The speed at which your head whipped towards Jace was almost otherworldly, nearly causing you to stumble. His face reflected your shock, his mouth hanging open like a fish before he turned to glance at your mother. A serene smile graced her pink lips, and she quickly lowered her gaze while placing a protective hand over her swollen stomach.

Apart from your mother, no one else seemed to share the same sense of pride. The Queen’s expression soured even more than you thought possible, and the Hand remained stunned by the sudden turn of events as you withdrew your hand from Jace’s.

Aegon had suddenly perked up at the revelation, uncharacteristically grinning as he watched the drama unfold while Aemond observed your misfortune with barely concealed satisfaction. You couldn’t pinpoint why he had an abrupt interest in the conversation. He no doubt enjoyed the misfortune of others, even if it was his kin.

“Well,” the King spoke, his breathing now calmed, “the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

The entire family breathed a sigh of relief, their shared sense of burden and responsibility slowly dissipating as they watched the weight of the future shift onto the Greens. In that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt for not shouldering the load yourself. Princess Rhaenys, with an almost irritated yet dignified stride, stood beside her eldest granddaughter, her presence exuding a complex mix of annoyance and pride.

Though you hadn’t moved from your spot beside your twin, you felt like a league away from him, gaping blankly at the glistening steel swords running over the steps like a river. The longer you studied them, the more they began to contort, seeing viscous crimson liquid melt down the blades. The future you had planned with your brother was impaled to the hilt.

A scoff cut through the moment of joy, your head directed to the sound. “You break the law, centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir,” Vaemond spoke, venom laced within every syllable. “But you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

Your brown orbs flickered from the man to the King. “Allow it?” Viserys echoed, testing the word on his dry tongue. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

The thick, oppressive silence enveloped the scene, defying even the sharpness of Darksister’s blade. Every individual present held their breath, their anticipation palpable as they waited to witness the outcome.

“That is no true Velaryon and certainly no nephew of mine!” the second son shouted, causing everyone to jump in fright.

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra ordered you and your brothers before swiftly turning her attention to Vaemond. “You have said enough.”

None of you obeyed.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson,” your Grandsire declared. “And you are no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

“You,” Vaemond stated, taking menacing steps forward, “may run your House as you see fit, but you will not decide my future. My House survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides.”

He turned to your family, feet firmly planted with the grip on his longsword. Your look stared fire at his, jaw clenched as he spat his vitriol. “And Gods be damned, I will not see it end on account of this…”

You arched your head to the side, eyes widening in defiance as you silently urged him to speak the words that yearned to escape his lips. However, he disregarded you, considering you nothing more than a mere girl in a world dominated by men, a lost cause. You resolved to shed any lingering guilt about your intentions at that moment.

“Say it,” Daemon’s soft and menacing timbre whispered.

Onlookers scrutinized with bated breath as Vaemond considered his words, his gaze flickering from your father to you, Jace, your mother, and Luke. A sneer slowly pulled his lips, righting his posture as he bellowed.

“Her children are bastards!”

You inhaled a near-inaudible growl from your throat as you took a charged step forward, only to be yanked back by Jace before you could do something you would regret. Soft murmurs sounded, the Greens all sharing the same look of begrudging disappointment. Jace seemed just as furious as you, his lips curling into a snarl.

“And they,” he glared at you, then at your mother, his jaw tensing, “are whores.”

Your gaze immediately flicked to Aegon and then Aemond, your body independently moving as the crowd gasped. Aemond’s eye was no longer bright purple but a near black, shining like dragonglass shards. Despite this window into his soul, his outward appearance reached an unusual sereness. Thin lips parted as you noticed the faintest twitch, a tic you realized indicated his rage.

“You have said your piece, Lord Vaemond,” Queen Alicent declared, fists humbly clasped over her clothed emerald green stomach. “The king has affirmed his decision, and you will do well to respect it without saying lies about the young princess.”

Did people know of what happened between you and Aegon and that of your brother?

They couldn’t have. You took steps to ensure your image to the public aligned with their ideals. You studied in the Citadel, for Seven’s sake! Your mind raced with the possibility of your secrets being discovered, the chance that the realm would know of your sins before marriage. At the time, it did not seem to be a mistake as you and Jace believed you would be married, but now, just as it seemed like all things did, it slipped through your fingers like the sand that lined the shores of Blackwater Bay.

Aemond watched as you mindlessly attempted to run toward Vaemond like a combat-trained man. He thought it would be entertaining to watch you claw the Velaryon Lord’s eyes out and contemplated in admired silence how reckless you could become when enraged, wondering how far that wrath would take you.

You were unable to hear the sound of raised voices expressing articles of treason, threats of violence, and the unsheathing of a sword until you felt blood splatter on your cheekbone, seeing the sliced head of Vaemond Velaryon laying a few paces from your feet. Jace pulled your face to his chest as you gasped in shock, clutching his arms like he was the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment of grotesque insanity.

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon declared, looking at the limp corpse below.

Studying his uncle in brief awe, Aemond’s violet eye flickered from the decapitated corpse to that of the assailant. He moved to see Jace’s feeble attempt at protecting you from the gore that lay leaking into the stones, mouth curling in disdain as he scoffed. Your brother was to be the one to protect you from harm, physical or emotional, yet he was incapable of doing that.

Momentarily, Aemond thought of coming to your side, knowing that he was a worthy enough man to be what you needed, and if not that, then only to spite Jacaerys. He shook the fleeting thought away with a grunt, scorn filling his heart.

“Disarm him!” The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard yelled, his fellow members drawing their weapons.

You chose who you thought worthy that night on Driftmark when you stood by idly as Luke ripped his eye from the socket.

“No need,” your stepfather cooly protested, wiping the blood of his kin from his blade and exiting the room.

Your eyes could not leave the bleeding form of Vaemond Velaryon, the top half of his dreaded white hair discarded as the crimson liquid pooled around him. Viserys groaned above, collapsing onto the Iron Throne like a sack of bones from the effort of living. Alicent and your mother ran to his aide.

“Niece.”

You expected to see Aemond come and continue his taunts from before, but instead, you saw Aegon standing before you, his square face etched with worry. You would have thought him handsome had he not done what he did and become the man he had become as you merely stared at him, your mind blank and body numb.

How could he show you such concern, knowing how much pain he caused you? What could you say to him after everything that transpired? After he effectively distorted the pure view of your world into betrayal and anguish. He most likely wanted to use you as he did to the maids of the Keep. You thought you might as well let him. That was how you felt now that the one man you willingly gave your body to with the expected outcome of marriage was bound to another. That same disgusting sensation you had the following days after your assault came rushing back as if you were that scared little girl again.

You did not want to feel that weak again and parted your lips to speak the venom he deserved to hear. Suddenly, you found your throat too dry as you swallowed the air instead. Aegon extended a hand to yours in what you believed to be a comforting gesture, fingers brushing each other as terror surged through your limbs.

Your sights glanced at the corpse as the hilt of Vaemond’s sword glinted in the light. You could end this here and now. End the torment. End the constant uncertainty that would be your mother’s secession. Your demise would be of no consequence.

“Sister,” Jace called, his tone clipped and brown eyes wide. The same eyes you had looking back at you. “Mother wants us in our chambers to prepare for supper.”

You recoiled as if your limb was scorched when you swiftly pulled it away from Aegon. With a curt nod to your twin, you allowed him to take you. Walking out of the Great Hall, you made a conscious effort not to glance back, keenly aware of the intensity of Aegon’s piercing stare as it followed the contours of your womanly form. You were sure that this encounter wouldn’t be the last, and the prospect of it propelled you to seek solace in the comforting embrace of your twin.

The twilight had descended upon King’s Landing, casting the city in a hazy glow. Despite the late hour, the flagstone streets teemed with activity as revelers roamed for company, their laughter mingling with the clinking of coins. Meanwhile, you found yourself clutching a goblet of fiery spirits, hoping to steady your frayed nerves as you sat between your imposing eldest uncle and your sweet twin.

The dining hall exuded an air of palpable tension, with hushed conversations among family members punctuating the room as servants bustled about, preparing for the day’s last meal. Everyone waited in quiet anticipation for the arrival of the King, their faces adorned with joyous and restrained smiles, marking the festivities of new beginnings. However, amidst this atmosphere of hopeful anticipation, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disquiet. In mere hours, it seemed as though everything you had worked for was unraveling before your eyes.

You were intended to enter into matrimony with Jace just as Visenya married her younger brother Aegon. As twins, you shared an unbreakable bond, with one heart and one soul inhabiting two bodies. No other individual in existence was as ideally suited for you.

As you watched your brothers’ interactions with their betrothed, you couldn’t help but notice the sour expression on your face. Each brother was dutiful and respectful, engaging in hushed conversations with their betrothed about the future and what it might hold. You felt a mix of confusion and offense as you pondered why Jace had swiftly embraced being bound to another after spending years with you as his unspoken wife.

Your eyes locked with Aemond’s from across the opulent room as he conversed with his brother, a sly smirk on his lips. He seemed to revel in your displeasure at taking your brother from you. With an exasperated sigh, you leaned back in your ornate high chair, surveying the sumptuous spread of food before you, each dish tempting you with its rich aromas and vibrant colors.

Growing increasingly impatient for your Grandsire’s arrival, you couldn’t resist the allure of a plump, purple grape sitting on the nearby platter. As you reached for it, your mother reprimanded you.

The air was heavy with the scent of wine as you had already consumed three cups before the arrival of the King, his face wearing a grim expression. Your Grandsire was brought into the grand hall, seated on a makeshift throne, and everyone in the room rose in respect for his position. His crown, a symbol of his authority, had been long forgotten as he was placed between the Queen and your mother. You noticed sores on him that you hadn’t seen before, standing out more prominently in the grandeur of the dining hall. The sight made your eyes prickle with the threat of tears, and your stomach churned with unease.

Despite being seated, he leaned heavily onto his cane, the weight of his extravagant Targaryen robes bearing down on his frail body. You fought back tears, refusing to show any vulnerability in front of those who held little respect for you.

“This is an occasion of celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our Houses,” your grandfather began, a thick rasp to his voice. “A toast to the young Princes and their betrothed. May you find yours yet, granddaughter.”

You sat there, forcing back your tears and lifting your glass as the joyful cheers filled the room. The dreams you had shared with Jace seemed to shatter with each sip of wine. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, Jace’s fleeting smile towards Baela deepened your sense of loss. It wasn’t their engagement that bothered you, but rather the uncontrollable circumstances that had brought it about. Still, some of you couldn’t help but resent the pair.

A sudden rancid sweetness wafted into your nose as you saw Aegon lean over you, wrapping his hand around the back of your chair and whispering to your twin.

“Well done, Jace. You’ll finally get to lie with a woman,” he teased with a lopsided grin. You observed him with wide eyes that danced from your uncle to your twin, hyper-aware of every breath and twitch of his limbs.

Jace stiffened beside you as he clenched his fist atop the table, barely containing his ire. It was only a matter of time before he lost his patience. You saw his hand move to connect with yours like always when he was stressed, but you moved to place it on your lap, instinctively turning your face away from his.

“It seems your twin doesn’t share the same sentiment,” Aegon softly declared so only the two of you could hear, lips moving into a downward smirk as he watched the silent dispute between siblings, victoriously sitting upright in his seat.

“Let us toast Prince Lucerys as well. The future Lord of the Tides,” your Grandsire continued as you felt the touch of another. Your posture became stiff as Aegon’s fingers wrapped around yours in a vice-like grip, no doubt only to spite Jace as you struggled to break free without causing attention.

Taking advantage of the momentary quiet, your eldest uncle mocked Jace again, moving your hand so he could see it. “You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?”

Rage welled inside your chest at Aegon’s words, and you feared as you looked into your brother’s eyes that he would spill your affairs in anger. Without thinking of appearances, you dug your nails into Aegon’s hand, causing him to yelp as he released you.

“You can play the jester as you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed,” Jace noiselessly snapped in return as your uncle hummed in acquiescence, cradling his injured hand and wounded pride.

Aemond’s eye was trained on the scene before him as he intently observed the three of you. His face remained a practiced impassivity; the only sign of his inner emotions was his finger wrapping on the table. Aemond took a sip of his wine to disguise his chuckle. His brother should know better than to test you. Even as children, you were not one to take things idly.

“It both gladdens my heart,” the King spoke, his voice straining without much effort, “and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table, the faces most dear to me in all the world.” Viserys looked toward his left, your mother, stepfather, and brothers in his sight. Your hand gripped the stem of your glass, ignoring the heated glares from across the table. “We’ve grown so distant from each other in years past.”

You forced yourself to hide the scoff at his words, taking another long drink. And why would that be? Perhaps it was because of the Queen’s unwavering grudge against your mother that festered into a hatred of her mere existence, his son raping you at such a young age you didn’t understand what it was, or the permanent injury of a young boy that never received the justice he deserved.

Viserys paused his speech, wheezing and supporting his weight on the table as a hand came to remove his mask. The sight was nothing you could have imagined. The space where his bright purple eye should be was a hollow hole of partially healed and rotting flesh. The wound on his cheek had eaten away at the skin and muscle, revealing his decaying grey teeth.

“My face is no longer handsome if it ever was.” Phlegm was stuck within your Grandsire’s throat, creating an almost repulsive noise as he spoke. “Tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your father...”

Aegon met the regards of a man who was his father only in name. His glare was dark, filled with anger you had never seen before, yet Aemond couldn’t bear to look at what he became—his father’s desperation, his mouth curling into a sneer.

Pain radiated suddenly from your lap, stare snapping to see your eldest uncle’s hand unexpectedly gripping your thigh, his digits digging into the flesh. It was in retaliation as you attempted to pry him off, but it was useless as Aegon secured his grip, no doubt leaving bruises in his wake. You bit your lip, concealing the painful scowl that curled your lips and arched your brows. It was hard to focus on anything other than your skin aching to be free of your body, not wanting to cause a scene.

“...who may not walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold your feelings in your hearts. The Crown cannot stand strong as long as the House of The Dragon remains divided.”

Aemond’s single violet eye turned to you, your stares locking with thousands of unsaid emotions, unsaid truths as you fidgeted, trying in vain to remove Aegon.

“Set aside your grievances!” Viserys declared passionately, startling those at the table and causing you to break your revere momentarily. “If not for the sake of the Crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Silence fell across the table as the King stumbled into his seat, the metal of his mask and cutlery clanging as Alicent dutifully came to his aid. Your mother stood abruptly, not giving the room to process the King’s words as her chair scraped against the stone floor. With a goblet in her hand, all eyes turned to her.

“I wish to raise my cup to her grace, the Queen,” she started, her eyes downcast. You watched your mother skeptically, brown orbs flickering from her to Alicent. “I love my father, but I must admit no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife.”

The Queen stared at her old friend, so full of emotions. Years of harbored pain and resentment from events you did not know, bleeding from her chest and onto her finely tailored green dress.

“She has tended to him with unwavering devotion, love, and honor; for that, she has my gratitude. And my apology,” your mother concluded, returning to her seat.

You felt like you were intruding on an intimate moment between lost lovers, the happy moments of their history flashing before each of their minds’ eyes. Turning to Aemond again, you realized he did not remove his stare from you. His ametrine eye was a glassy pool, yet his face was stoic to everyone. You were sure you mirrored him, though you were not as skilled at hiding emotions, your chin slightly quivering.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We’re both mothers, and we love our children. We have more in common than we allow,” Alicent confessed, her voice barely stuttering. “I raise my cup to you and your House. You’ll make a fine Queen.”

Otto’s disapproving stare did not go unnoticed by you, and Aemond reflected on his expression. Each person raised their goblets individually, taking sips in honor of their current and future Queen.

Aegon threw his drink back twice, going for a third time, but stopped once he caught sight of you. Droplets of Arbor Gold slipped past your lips, and you lurched forward to see the liquid before it ran down to the aperture of your chest. The Prince swallowed audibly, his throat clicking as his trousers grew tight.

Memories from your childhood of meals spent with your eldest uncle where he would wipe whatever remnants you had on your mouth came flooding to mind. You realized then that these gestures were not ones of kindness but a sick, disgusting act that he used to groom you and take pleasure from. Gripping the pristine knife that rested atop the fine mahogany table, you dreamed of having his blood spewing from between his lips as you plunged it into his neck.

Taking another swig of your wine, you felt nothing but dry air hit your moist tongue. Aegon noticed it, smiling in an almost feline nature as he took the glass from you.

“Worry not, niece. May your mouth never run dry in my presence,” he declared and went to the pitcher between Baela and Jace. “I regret the disappointment you will soon suffer,” you heard him whisper into your cousin’s ear. “But if you wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.”

The clatter of cutlery sliced through the air as your brother stood, all eyes turning to him. You tried to placate Jace as he clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white and ignoring your kind touches. Everyone watched with keen eyes as on the other end of the table, Aemond stood, seeming to size up with your brother like a cat arching its spine. Placing your cup of wine in front of you, Aegon sat, dragging his fingertips across your neck and making you shudder in disgust.

Realizing that Jace had captured the attention of everyone surrounding the table, he cleared his throat, stalling for time. You glanced at him with an uneasy feeling, looking back to Aemond as he refused to sit.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth,” Jace began, and you struggled to keep your incredulous expression at bay. “And as men, I hope we may be friends and allies. To you and your families, good health, dear uncles.”

He concluded the toast as he and the rest raised their cups to their worried lips. Playfully, albeit awkwardly, Jace punched your eldest uncle in the shoulder as you struggled to keep your laughter at bay, sinking your teeth into your lip.

“To you as well,” Aegon begrudgingly replied, and you flicked a mocking look at him. He refused to meet you.

The screech of a chair sounded in the dining hall, and you turned your head to see your sweet Aunt Helaena abruptly standing with her cup in hand. “I would like to make a toast to Baela and Rhaena. They will be married soon. It isn’t so bad. He mostly ignores you, except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Daemon’s chuckle pierced through the unease, the three full goblets of wine gone to your head as you stifled one of your own, hiding it behind your digits. Aegon refused to meet anyone’s gaze, finding his half-eaten plate much more interesting than the people before him. Helaena looked to you for support, ensuring that what she said was good as you smiled. You forgot how much you cared for your aunt and admired her thinly veiled jab at Aegon’s lack of duties.

Supper commenced, and you wasted no time feasting, eating the savory vegetables cooked in butter and smothered in rich spices. Smoked cheeses, both hard and soft, found their way to your plate, nearly moaning at their hearty combination with slices of meat. The frigid environment from before left and was replaced with the warmth of laughter and music. Even the old King himself wore a smile on his cracked grey lips.

You ignored the piercing regard burning your face, focusing on your mother and stepfather. Daemon whispered something into your mother’s ear, gently grasping her lithe fingers as she giggled, and a blush bloomed. The sight caused an ache to rise in your chest. The hollowness of your heart knocked on your ribs. You longingly desired to find a love like theirs. Your brother was stolen from you to secure all your inheritances, and while you understood it, nothing could make the hurt lessen.

Ignoring the fist cinching around your lungs, you downed your half-empty goblet of Arbor Gold, summoning a servant to refill it. You did not want to feel like this anymore—the ache, the throbbing in your head and heart. It was too much to bear. In the times of your melancholia, days were spent with a swirling storm of thoughts and memories of your childhood in the Keep—the bullying, your rape, to that of Driftmark filled with blood and boyish screams. They plagued your mind like a disease, culturing into an amalgamation of sadness, rage, guilt, self-mutilation, and isolation until you no longer wanted to live.

Jace rose from his seat with a groan from the wood and excused himself from his betrothed. You thought he might offer you a dance; he knew how much you loved to do so, but the idea sank like the food past your lips as he went to Helaena, extending a hand. Aegon stared at the pair as they went to the open space, his face one of surprise as you brought your cup to your lips, swallowing a smirk. It served him right. His treatment of Helaena, or lack thereof, was appalling. Though he may not be in a marriage of love, she was still his sister and the dreamy-eyed Princess deserved more.

A glimmer of gold suddenly drew your gaze, jolting you from contemplation. Viserys' magnificent mask gleamed in the flickering candlelight, his head tilting to one side as he visibly battled a wave of pain. Without hesitation, Queen Alicent signaled for the guards to accompany him back to his chambers. You observed with a concerned expression trailing behind as they carefully took the ornate wooden throne out of the grand dining hall.

You caught Aemond’s gaze. It was impossible not to as it flicked from Helaena dancing to you. He looked like a barely concealed storm about the burst, as if he debated whether to slit your throat because of your existence or continue what he had started in the corridor. Your uncle had changed so much within six years that you didn’t recognize him, and you supposed it was the same for you. Two people who grew so close were suddenly torn apart by an unfinished tragedy where anger was left to decay until its rot took control.

You worried that things would never be able to be put aside like your Grandsire wished if this wall of silence and grudges was not destroyed. Hate between your families would stay the same and cause the successful usurpation of your mother’s rightful throne. Deciding to swallow your pride and hurt, you stood, wanting to extend the broken branch of goodwill to Aemond, but Aegon refused to let you move. His arm pushed you back down into your seat with a look that sent tears of shocked terror into your eyes. You felt helpless under his gaze as a thinly veiled look of madness replaced a toothy grin gleaming in the candlelight.

“Won’t you give the courtesy of a dance, niece?” he asked with a dangerous lilt that hinted at something more. There was no room for refusal as he hoisted you from your chair. This was undoubtedly a jab at Jace for inviting Helaena as you watched your twin halt his movements.

Ever since Aegon was a boy, he has been awful when sharing what he thinks is his. You recalled the many times you would ask to play with his wooden toys only to get smacked in the head with it or worse. It was as comforting as it was unnerving that parts of him were still the same.

Eyes flicking at Aemond, you pleaded for him to stand and make good on his promise to protect you from your eldest uncle, but he remained still, unmoving like the statues you compared him to. You were right here, mere steps away and by his side. He could insert himself and put an end to Aegon’s torture. After all, you would be indebted to him if he did, and what more could Aemond possibly desire than to have his bastard niece that he so despises at his mercy?

“Aemond still hates you for what Luke did,” Aegon softly declared as you moved your attention to him. “I’m not. My ire is directed at those who caused this hatred to fester between us. You and I were friends once.”

“Indeed, once. ‘Twas long ago now,” you quipped with venom like the pit vipers in Dorne.

Your uncle was a skilled dancer despite the plethora of alcohol he drank, twirling you with a grace you did not possess as you stumbled from nerves and firewater. Aemond did not know where to focus, gaze flicking from Helaena and Jace to you and Aegon so fast that he felt disoriented. He didn’t understand why he was so concerned. It wasn’t like he could do anything to separate you and his brother without acquiring Aegon’s jests hours later, yet he couldn’t control his anxiety as his finger nervously tapped the wooden table.

Bringing you close as you tripped, Aegon pressed your body against his as you felt the real reason behind his words, swaying to the music that made you want to scream and pull your hair from its roots.

“Things could return to how they were before. We could ride our dragons together, visit far-off lands, and spend our days in the Godswood eating those orange cakes you like. We’d be friends and even more so. Would that not be splendid?” the eldest Prince suggested with a grin.

There was nothing for you to do but endure this for the sake of appearances as you caught sight of a pair of amber eyes watching you, a slight upturn to her plump lips. Queen Alicent knew what her son did to you yet observed with a smile that you could interpret as one of maternal love. It enraged you. She was no better than her son. You hated her beyond words for the times you ever thought of her more than another Lord who cared not for the struggles of women.

Aemond no longer held his attention on you but that of Jace and Helaena, seeming to be unbothered by your childhood rapist and bully putting his hands in places that would be a sin. He would not save you now. It was up to you to defend yourself once more.

“You ended whatever smidge of camaraderie we had when you debased me at the top of Maegor’s battlements,” you spat as you moved away from him, only for Aegon to bring you back into another elegant dance. The Prince rolled his purple eyes, the indigo circles underneath them becoming prominent.

“We seem to have different recollections of that night,” he exasperatedly sighed as if you were nothing more than a child bothering their parents with unfounded fears. “I recall how we as children laughed and drank beside each other and how you said, yes, as I slipped my hand betwixt your thighs.”

Gasping, you shoved Aegon away as his hands traveled past your navel, suddenly hearing a chair screech in response. Aemond stood with his body squared toward the two of you as the room went silent. All twelve faces turned to him. You stared with bated breath as Aegon slipped his hand across your back, returning to his chair and taking a nonchalant sip of his drink.

Would Aemond finally stand against Aegon for all the wrong he committed to the both of you?

Pleading wordlessly, your body flushed as he stared unabashedly, tears of intensity pricking your eyes. The light of hope inside your chest was snuffed out as the servants brought a roasted pig onto the table. Luke could not contain his immature giggles as it was placed before Aemond, reminding him of the cruel jape he, Aegon, and Jace did. Whatever anger Aemond felt at his older brother soon turned into one of injustice for what Luke did all these years ago. You thought your younger brother knew better than this and sighed in defeat, all prospects of an amiable future between the Greens and Blacks disintegrating.

“Final tribute,” Aemond began, a lethal sway to his words. “To the health of my niece and nephews. Jace, Luke, Joffrey, and the Gods’ Light.” Your uncle’s single eye traveled to each of you, a stare so severe you felt yourself recoil inside of your being as you ran an unconscious hand through your scalp. “Each of them is handsome, wise, virtuous, and…”

Aemond stuttered as he came to you, making the fatal mistake of losing himself within the depths of your comforting irises. He could see the water collecting at your lashes as your eyes turned into murky pools, threatening to drown him if he stared for a moment longer. He directed his attention at Luke, his ire becoming apparent as memories of your brothers and Aegon’s laughs bounced off the Dragonpit walls, soon turning into screams and red covering his vision. He felt the pain of losing an eye as if it was happening again and tightened his fist around his goblet, forcing the pain to fuel his rage.

“And strong,” Aemond concluded as you released a disappointed sigh, focusing on anything but your uncle. “Come! Let us drain our cups to these four strong children.”

You understood what he was trying to do without speaking. His hurt was so fierce that it blinded all sense, leading him to react rashly. Aemond was forcing you to choose between your family and your affection for him, a situation that the Prince knew would play out as before. You knew what was expected of you; it was the same as last time. You would always choose your family over him. Duty was a sacrifice; you must sacrifice the memories of a bright-eyed boy with freckled cheeks and a love for reading and stolen kisses. The Aemond was no longer there, and you needed to accept that.

“I dare you to say that again,” Jace proclaimed, his chin held high and shoulders back. Your brother was ever the picture of a strong king, sending a warmth to your heart that was crushed with reality.

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” Aemond jabbed back as your head snapped to him. He could make whatever cruel taunts he desired at you but would not bring your brother into this.

“A man lies dead for spouting such lies. What do you think will happen to you?” you snapped a vicious clip to your words. Before Aemond could respond, your brother stormed to him without a second thought, chest to chest, as his fist slammed across Aemond’s cheek.

Gasping in surprise, you went to the two of them as you saw Luke’s face become one with a plate of food, hesitating for a moment until your twin was shoved to the ground. You marched toward Aemond with fire in your veins and an intent to harm as shouts erupted from your mother and Queen Alicent for everyone to stop. You all ignored them, Aegon swiftly coming behind you, lifting and swinging you by the waist as if you were no more than a doll. Jace tried to reach for you, but your uncle spun around, giggling in your ear at your attempts to break free as you became nauseous.

You realized this was all a joke to Aegon. He truly did not understand that what he did to you as children was wrong.

Aegon couldn’t hide the excitement in his stomach at having you so close once more as you squirmed in his hold, burying his nose into your neck with a grin. He wondered if you would writhe like this if he had you naked between his bedsheets.

Soon, the guards draped in metal armor and red robes pulled Jace and Luke away from their uncles as Aegon came face to face with Daemon. Unlike Aemond, your eldest uncle was not one to challenge others to fisticuffs as his laughter ceased. Your stepfather need only to flash your uncle a look for him to let you go, raising his arms in surrender as Daemon observed you to ensure you weren’t hurt.

“Why would you say such a thing before these people?” you heard Queen Alicent hotly scold Aemond, looking behind his lithe shoulder to where your mother held your body close to hers.

Scoffing, your uncle cocked his head, staring down at his mother with a challenging look. “I was merely expressing my pride in my family, mother. Though it seems my niece and nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs,” he enunciated pointedly, glancing to where the three of you were restrained.

“I’ll cut out your tongue!” you shouted as Jace broke free from the guards, coming behind you in support. Daemon halted you in your tracks, his touch gentle yet firm as he placed a hand on your arm. As you paused to regain your composure, you couldn’t help but notice the deep creases on his forehead, a sign of his genuine concern. You shrugged off his touch, refusing to succumb to paternal overtures because he intervened when Aegon was rough with you.

Your mother looked to the floor, a dejected expression on her porcelain features you couldn’t understand before she spoke to the three of you. “Go to your quarters. All of you, now.”

As you and Jace made your way out, you couldn’t help but notice the tense standoff between Daemon and Aemond. Your stepfather, casually leaning on his hips with one hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, exuded an air of calculated confidence.

Standing in the doorway, you felt a flutter of anxiety in your heart, wondering what would unfold between the two men. You were curious to know if the two Targaryen men decided to brawl and whether you would go to your uncle or stepfather. There was a palpable sense of anticipation as Daemon glanced at where you stood, expressing a knowing look deep within his lilac eyes. He had already sent one person’s loved one to the Stranger. What was one more?

Sharing a look of frustration from you to your stepfather, Aemond grunted in displeasure, following your steps out of the dining hall. Jace checked himself into your shoulder as he forced you forward, refusing to let you dwell on the scene behind you.

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I know we're upset with Aemond's behavior, but it'll make that character arch much sweeter. We can only have the enemies-to-lovers trope with them being enemies first! I feel bad for the poor MC. First, she's forced to return to the scene of a traumatic experience, forced to see her rapist, and then finds out the man she thought she was going to marry her whole life is engaged to someone else! Baby girl is going through it. Let's get this girl some therapy. (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

We're starting to see how Aegon and Alicent might have begun to harbor some unhealthy traits regarding our reader. Don't worry. It'll get much worse from here on out! Thank you so much for reading!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf , @marvelescvpe , @haikyuusboringassmanager , @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n , @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna , @baybaybear1

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bones4thecats · 8 months ago

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Hi maybe the transformers prime megatron, starscream and shockwave having a lute (hazbin hotel) s/o who is their second in command and is always by their side

TFP! Decepticons with a 'Con-Lute! S/O

Characters: Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave (Transformers Prime) Requester: ❣️Anon A/N: Anons, please add emojis when requesting. I made a whole announcement on this. I don't mean to be rude, but just add an emoji when you do this! Thank you. Also, I'll give you an emoji, you'll be ❣️Anon, and I do hope you like this, it is mainly what they like about the Reader and how they bonded. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Mentions of war and physically harming someone ⚠️

Disclaimer: This includes spoilers for Season One of Hazbin Hotel

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Megatron ══════════════════════════════╝

👑 As a former Gladiator within the Pits of Kaon and a former member of the Cybertronian Air Force, you were trained to be strict and highly dangerous. And that is always on full-display whenever you went against the Autobots

👑 You would wield your sword against the 'Bots while your sparkmate, the Decepticon-Warlord Megatron, would watch from the Nemesis as you handed your enemies their afts

👑 Whenever you are not out fighting and leading your own part of the Decepticon army, you would be right by Megatron's side. You would be walking alongside him, your arms folded behind your back like your lover

👑 He likes watching you fight and defend the Decepticon cause. Especially whenever it revolves around Starscream attempting to offline Megatron or you. But, whenever he tries attacking you, Megatron would intimidate him into submission again

👑 You're useful to the cause. And your savagery is very useful against your shared enemies, such as when Arcee attacked you and you managed to slice one of her optics in half, rendering her vision half-as-good as it once was

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Starscream ════════════════════════════╝

💫 Starscream adores you. And I mean that.

💫 You are known far and wide for your mastery using your weapons, whether it be a sword or even a bomb, you would put use to everything around you at moment's notice

💫 Starscream initially found you to be helpful with getting his status up and keeping him safe from any who opposed him. But, over time you proved to be quite the loyal 'Con, using your fighting skills against anyone who proved a danger

💫 His feelings finally came to his processor when you stabbed an Autobot fighter from behind when he tried attacking the Seeker from behind during the start of the war

💫 Anyways, he uses his own mental tactics to get what he wants, you on the other hand use physical force more often. But, after spending enough time around the Cybertronian Seeker, you began to pick up some styles of mental manipulation, which made him proud

💫 You're his shield. I have no other way to put it. Like, he doesn't want to seem like he finds you useless, but he's built so tiny while you're like him, but have the strength of Wreckers like Bulkhead because of your training

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Shockwave ═════════════════════════════╝

🧪 When Shockwave first met you, he was slightly surprised to see just how disciplined you were. He liked silence when working, so you would stand by his lab's door not making a sound while he walked around a worked. After all, Decepticons naturally have no care for other's opinions

🧪 He was also curious on how much you knew on his experiments. Hell, one time you had brought him an energon cube - as he was in dire need of it - and asked if you could question him on an alien species he had encased in a jar

🧪 When he told you their common name, believing you wouldn't know anymore about them, he heard you say their scientific one and begin to speak about how much you knew about their biology

"When I first studied them with one of my siblings back on Cybertron, since they were studying to be a scientist in the Council, I was surprised to see how their spinal system connected to their long Simmons-like tail."

🧪 Shockwave began to ask you to give him some mixtures of CNA and fossils, which began to bring you guys closer together as the days passed. And when the Predacons were created, they saw both you and Shockwave as their 'creators', as you gave them life

#Transformers #Transformers Prime #TFP #TFP Decepticons #Transformers x Reader #Transformers Prime x Reader #TFP x Reader #TFP Decepticons x Reader #S/O! Reader #GN! Reader #Cybertronian! Reader #Decepticon! Reader #TFP Megatron #TFP Megatron x Reader #TFP Starscream #TFP Starscream x Reader #TFP Shockwave #TFP Shockwave x Reader

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insomniac-rambling · 2 months ago

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Do you have more beast redemption AU crumbs? I love the concept so much, I want something, thank you 💜💜💖

Well…

I do have a headcanon where after The Beasts corrupted, their Soul Jams altered them to represent their beastly titles more literally. Shadow Milk Cookie gained an insatiable need to lie pretty much every time he opened his mouth. There was a period while he was sealed that he went completely nonverbal just to avoid being forced to cook up some bullshit to spit out. Of course The Beasts managed to coax him out of this state, but sometimes he still went quiet. Wanting a break from being so deceitful.

Mystic Flour Cookie got her emotions taken away from her. She couldn’t feel anything, and absolutely nothing could make her react to a single thing. It was like her emotions had just been straight up deleted. And any time she came even remotely close to feeling something, her Soul Jam reacted immediately. Smothering the emotion until it dissipated. Whether it be pain, joy, anger, fear, anything.

Burning Spice Cookie gained an urge for destruction. The more he satisfies it, the weaker it is. The less he satisfies it, the stronger it gets. So he didn’t have a great time in The Silver Tree. His need for destruction would almost completely take him over, he’d start clawing, biting, and throwing himself against any solid surface he could find. Damaging his own body in a desperate attempt to make the urge stop. Often resulting in Silent Salt and Shadow Milk outright restraining him so he doesn’t kill himself.

Silent Salt Cookie, on the other hand, had his vocal cords literally melted down. Nothing else, just his vocals. Rendering him permanently mute. It took him a long ass time to figure out how to communicate again now that he can’t talk. Though he didn’t speak up much before, now he couldn’t talk even if he wanted to. Eventually he came up with a system of silent gestures and pointing, basically an archaic version of sign language, but with his entire body instead of just the hands. Only the other Beasts understand what he says.

And finally, Eternal Sugar Cookie got put in a near perpetual state of exhaustion. Feeling way too tired to do much of anything. She spent her days lazily playing her harp to charm cookies into either washing and feeding her, or going away and leaving her in peace. She slept like eighteen hours a day, and only spent an hour or two on her feet. Max.

Basically, their Soul Jams tortured them

#cookie run kingdom #cookie run #crk #shadow milk cookie #mystic flour cookie #burning spice cookie #silent salt cookie #eternal sugar cookie #beast redemption au #redemption au #cookie run kingdom au #cookie run au #crk au #anything else?

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mentally-a-slut · 10 months ago

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Can I request "You deserve to be loved." For Astarion with female reader please? Please make it smut too!

Thanks so much for the request! I have been super ill, but I managed to get one thing done! I hope this is to your standards, this is my first time writing for Astarion so I hope it's not too out of character. I left Tav pretty neutral, so you should be able to imagine her as anyone. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Remember, please leave feedback! I love to hear your thoughts and it helps motivate me to keep writing.

Rating: E

Warnings: smut, piv sex, oral (f!receiving), face sitting, angst with happy ending, Astarion has a praise kink i don't make the rules, dom!Tav, kinda sub!Astarion, female Tav, likely ooc Astarion, not proofread

It was a calm night, the stillness of the camp blanketing over everyone as the stars glimmered in the darkening sky. Scratch lay idly by Shadowheart, eyes fluttering with the beginnings of sleep as the cleric's hand absentmindedly stroked his head.

Most everyone was already knocked out, the events of the day rendering them useless against the wave of sleep that washed over them. Tav was the only one that couldn't put her mind to rest, thoughts racing behind her eyes as she tried and failed to join her companions in their peaceful oblivion.

At least, she thought she was.

After an hour of fruitless attempts of rest, she abandoned her tent with an aggravated sigh, opting to get some fresh air. When she slipped out of the canvas walls, her eyes fell upon the gleaming silver hair of Astarion, restlessly sitting outside of his tent with his piercing gaze directed at the sky.

She knew that vampire spawn didn't exactly sleep, but Astarion usually went into a trance at night. He said it helped him feel energized in between feedings. A twinge of concern jolted through her, gaze softening as she approached the gloomy spawn.

"Astarion?"

His red eyes quickly cut towards her, his scrutiny heavy on her form.

"Are you alright?"

His gaze flickered with an unreadable emotion for a split second, too quick for her to discern. He hesitated before responding, the familiar too-sweet drawl coating his words. "Quite alright, now that you're here."

Tav's cheeks blazed with a poorly restrained blush at his charming words, and she averted her eyes to the ground between them. She heard his movements before she saw them, the soft brush of his feet brushing the dirt as he rose from his seat.

"I do so love when you blush, so pretty and red."

His cold finger trailed along her jaw, gently prompting her to direct her gaze back to his. She attempted to blink away her flustered state, instead focusing on the handsome elf's face. His sharp features were contorted into his familiar expression of mischief, dark red eyes upholding a look of desire.

Fighting the fog of attraction, she narrowed her eyes at him, searching his practiced expression. He was always a flirt, quick-witted and prone to making her blush, and yet something felt off about him. Something festered beneath his sweetened gaze, almost invisible behind the facade he upheld, but Tav caught a glimpse of it.

One glimpse was all it took for her to step away, brows furrowing as she created distance. His eyes flashed momentarily, a small crinkle of his brows the only sign of his confusion. "What's the matter, darling? Why so shy?"

He attempted to step closer to her, resulting in Tav taking a matching step back. She thought she saw a flicker of hurt before he steadied his expression. "Oh, I see. Don't want to cuddle up to a vampire?"

He turned away from her, already in the motion of retreating to his tent, when Tav shot out her hand and grabbed onto his arm. "That's not it."

He tilted his head to peer at her, teasing smirk already pulling at his lips. His flirtatious remark was cut short when Tav suddenly darted for his tent, hand still firm around his arm. He let her lead him, silver eyebrow raised in curiosity.

The cloth of the tent flaps had barely fallen shut when his cold hands met her waist, pressing her up to him in a way that had Tav's heart beating against her chest. "Eager, are we?"

His breath dusted her cheeks as he held her, seductive gaze steady on her beneath his lashes. Her eyes fought to flutter closed as he leaned in, lips just barely pausing before her lips.

"Why are you doing this?"

Her question was almost quiet enough to miss, but Astarion's grip loosened as he pulled away in shock. "What?"

Tav put a shaky hand to his chest, wanting nothing more than to hold him this close forever. "The flirting. The lingering touches. The stares. Why?"

Silvery brows furrowed, undead hands still idle at her waist. "I didn't take you to be dull. Do you need me to spell it out for you?"

His snark didn't go unnoticed, the same tone he took when someone tried to pry into his business too much. Tav's lips quirked downwards into a frown. "I know what desire looks like. The look you gave me back there was a decent imitation of it, but I saw through it. Why pine after me if you do not truly desire me?"

Tav tried not to let her disappointment show at his loss of touch as he dropped his hands from her waist and stepped back. "I don't know what you mean. I do desire you."

She narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms across her chest as she gave him a withering look. "I don't much like being lied to, Astarion. Nor do I like to be led on."

A flash of guilt crossed his eyes, almost quick enough to miss. "You're a clever one. Fine then, I confess. I needed safe passage to the city, and the only way to get it was to seduce you into providing it for me."

Her heart seized in her chest at his words, hurt and betrayal curdling in her stomach. "Do you truly think so little of me?"

His previously avoidant gaze shot towards her when her voice cracked with emotion. Her eyes shone with unshed tears.

She struggled to keep her composure through her next words. "Seduction was not the only way. I would have aided you no matter what, romantic feeling or not. I do not need anything in return. I would have helped you. I would have- I do care for you. There are no strings attached unless you wish there to be."

She recoiled from his hand as it reached out towards her. Tears now steadily falling down her cheeks, she continued with shaky words. "And I will still help you, even though you have hurt me. Even though you have made me think there was something... I thought you liked me. I really thought we could have," she heaved a sob between her words, "Why did you have to make me fall in love with you?"

Her eyes avoided his, tears rushing down her face as she hung her head down. If he had a beating heart, he was sure it would be hammering against him.

"You... Love?"

She hid her face in her hands as she cried, granting him a small nod.

"Tav, I..."

"Don't. Just... I'm sorry for thinking you returned my feelings. I don't expect anything from you, and you're still welcome to stay with us."

She turned to leave, eyes burning with emotion, when his cold hand gripped her shoulder. She froze, holding her breathe in case any movement would scare him away.

"Tav, please don't go."

His voice was timid, a broken sort of tone that she could never dream of him carrying. She chance a movement, turning her head to peek at him. His eyes were watering, sincerity pooling in the blood red of his gaze.

"I... It wasn't fake."

A stuttered breath as Tav turned to face him, tear stained face contorted into an expression of dread, fearing he was playing a cruel joke on her. "What?"

"The feelings, the flirting... I admit, at first it was purely self-preservation, but..." he gently trailed his hand down from her shoulder to her wrist, "you... you enraptured me."

"Astarion, you don't have to-"

"I mean it. This isn't me trying to use you, I'm not just doing this as an apology, I truly mean it. I fell for you, and it terrifies me."

She turned her wrist in his grip, staring down at his hand as she maneuvered hers to fit against his. "You love me?"

She stepped forward, bringing a hesitant hand to his face. His brows furrowed as he nodded slightly, almost like it pained him to admit it. Slowly, she moved closer, giving him time to recoil. When he leaned in, she fluttered her eyes closed and pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss.

His other hand went to her face, delicate fingers stroking her cheekbone as they kissed. There was no desperation, only gentle passion as they melded together, pouring all words unsaid into their embrace. When Tav pulled away, Astarion sighed and chased after her lips, only stopped by her firm hand on his chest.

"You don't need to do anything you don't want to do. I'm alright with not sleeping together. You don't owe me anything."

His pupils swallowed up the red of his eyes as he whined, true desire swirling in his gaze. "You saying that only makes me want you more."

Tav hummed in surprise as he pulled her lips back against his, fingers tangling in her hair as he hungrily devoured her lips. His free hand snaked around her, palm pressing firmly into her lower back and arching her into him. Tav sighed into him, pulling away from his lips to murmur, "are you sure?"

"Never been surer, darling."

She stopped his approach, giving him a sultry look as he pulled her even closer against him. "Alright, but we're doing this my way."

He raised a brow, his teasing smirk sending a jolt of arousal down her spine. "Oh, yeah? And what did you have in mind?"

She pressed a soft kiss against his lips, admiration flooding her eyes. "You let me do the work." She tutted against his lips as he started to protest. "Please, Astarion, let me take care of you. You deserve to be loved."

His resolve completely vanished at that, and he pulled her back for another desperate kiss. Tav's core burned with each sound from his lips, whines and moans vibrating against her lips. She pushed him towards his bedroll without breaking the kiss, giving a pleased hum when he obeyed.

She sank down with him, straddling his lap as he sat. His fingers fought with the hem of her shirt, insistently tugging as he whined against her lips. She smiled and pulled away, chuckling as he tried to chase her lips. "Use your words, love."

"You're a tease," he all but whined, hands still itching to rid her of her top.

She answered him with only a stern look, pulling his hands from her waist. He groaned in frustration, pride a little more than hurt as she coaxed him to obey. "Take it off. Please."

"Good boy," she teased, all too aware of the growing bulge her words caused. His hands wasted no time in exploring the skin of her exposed stomach as she peeled away her shirt, tossing it over her shoulder. He sat up to capture her lips, firm hands desperately trying to gain control.

His fingers dug into her waist as she rolled her hips down against his, eliciting a groan from him. She rolled her hips again, pressing harder against his prominent arousal. His hands frantically trailed across her skin, gripping her ass as she grinded once again.

Her core grew hotter as he moaned against her, and she pressed kissed down his jaw and neck as she began to tug at his shirt. She pulled back to look at him, holding back a moan as he rutted against her. "This okay?"

"Yes, yes, it's okay," he whined, breathless as he pressed himself between her legs. She discarded his shirt, continuing to press hot kisses down his neck and chest. She pressed a hand to his chest, pushing him back to lay down. She held her hip up away from his, grinning at his frustrated groan.

"Be patient," she warned, trailing a finger down his torso and teasing the waistband of his pants.

His hand found the clasp of her bra, fingers restlessly fidgeting against it as he looked up at her for permission. She nodded with a smile, and his swift fingers released the garment within seconds. He groaned as her breasts were exposed, bringing a hand up to one and flicking a thumb across her nipple. She faltered for a moment, hips rutting down on his as his hands teased her chest. "So gorgeous, darling, perfect."

She felt silly for blushing at his words, the simple compliment turning her insides to jelly even as they were half naked. He smirked and pulled her down to him, pressing his tongue against her lips and sighing at the feel of her chest against his. Tav snaked a hand between them, delicate fingers brushing against his length. His responding moan send shivers down her spine, encouraging her to press her fingers against him harder.

He rutted against her hand, grabbing any part of her he could reach. He pulled away enough to whine out a "please," and Tav swiftly unbuttoned his trousers and pushed them off. His hardened length strained against his underwear, a growing damp spot evidence of his desire.

He whined as she pressed her palm against him, and he grabbed her wrist to still her movements. She glanced up at him, concern in her face. He panted, shifting involuntarily to try and gain friction. "As much as I love what your doing," he trailed his other hand up her thigh, coming to a stop at the waistband of her pants, "I want to taste you. Please."

Tav couldn't stop the whine that fell from her lips, his words sending an entire new wave of desire through her. She nodded, moving to help him remove her pants. Once she was fully bare above him, his eyes burned with lust as he stared at her glistening cunt. Tav didn't have any time to be insecure before his hands gripped her waist and tugged her up his body, settling her spread legs just above his lips.

He quirked a brow at her, silently asking permission. His breath tickled her folds, making her groan with her words. "Oh, fuck, yes."

His hands gripped her ass firmly as he pulled her core down against his lips, his tongue immediately flicking against her swollen clit and teasing her entrance. She threw her head back with a moan and tangled her fingers in his hair, involuntarily rutting against his mouth.

His tongue was quick, flitting between her clit and dipping into her core with precision. She half worried that she would suffocate him with her thighs before she remembered that he was undead.

Tav swore as his lips closed around her clit, sucking harshly and sending her eyes into the back of her head. Her muscles tensed as he lapped at her, core tightening as he brought her closer to the edge.

"Fuck, just like that! I'm gonna-"

He hummed against her, sending vibrations through her core and pushing her over the edge. He didn't pull away until came down from her high, tongue coaxing her through it.

With a sigh, Tav adjusted herself back to where she was, leaning down to kiss him and sighing when she tasted herself on his lips. "You taste delightful," he muttered between kisses.

His cock throbbed beneath the restraint of his underwear, and Tav couldn't help but roll her hips against him. "Don't tease me, darling."

She did it again, pulling back to look him in the eyes. "Do you want this?"

"More than anything."

She smiled at him, one of pure admiration, and then hastily rid him of his underwear. He sighed when her core brushed against his painfully hard cock, tightening his hold on her waist. She leaned down to peck him on the lips before lifting her hips, stroking him teasingly as she lined them up.

With one last look of confirmation, she pressed her cunt against his tip, her tight hole swallowing him torturously slow. His gaze was heavy on their joined bodies, fingers digging into her waist as he groaned.

The stretch was pleasant, brushing against her walls as she slowly lowered onto him. She sighed as her clit brushed against her pelvis, his cock now fully sheathed inside of her. She stilled for a moment, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

The movement shifted them slightly, making him groan against her lips. She smirked, lifting her hips slowly. With a hand on his chest to steady herself, she sent him a cheeky wink and sank back down. His eyes darted all over her body as she rode him, watching her tits bounce, staring as her cunt swallowed him up. "You feel so good, filling me up," she whined, thrusts getting faster.

His moans grew louder at her praise, hands pressing tighter against her hips and guiding her down against him. "Such a good boy, letting me ride you."

He sat up, pulling her against him and matching her thrusts. He whined, pressing sloppy kisses against her throat as he rutted into her. "Please, feels so good," he whined, fangs brushing the delicate skin of her neck. She tangled her fingers in his hair, pressing him into her neck.

"So, so good for me, such a good boy," she moaned, thrusts becoming rougher, "you wanna cum inside me?"

He groaned, cock twitching inside her as she tightened around him. "Please, please, so close, I'm so close-"

"Bite me," she whispered, "c'mon baby, cum inside me while you sink your teeth into my neck."

His orgasm crashed over him just as he sank his fangs into her, the sweet tang of her blood coaxing forward his release. She soon followed, moaning as he painted her walls and drank his fill.

He pulled away from her neck, pressing his lips against hers and smearing her blood into her mouth. She whined into the kiss, cunt clenching with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

He pulled back, eyes swimming with emotion as he studied her face, their sweating bodies clinging together. "I love you."

She smiled before kissing him softly. "I love you too."

176 notes · View notes

spatialwave · 4 months ago

Text

V's All That

Chapter 3 || The Game

➥ Summary: Jayce Talis, the school's golden boy and a guaranteed pick for Prom King, seems to have it all—looks, charm, and popularity. However, when Kino presents him with the opportunity to win back Mel, his ex-girlfriend and the one who got away, Jayce jumps at the chance. The challenge? To transform Viktor, a snarky outcast who is as far from popular as possible, into Prom King instead. Jayce takes the bait, but he may have taken on more than he can handle. ➥ Word Count: 6.5k ➥ Pairing: Jayce Talis x Viktor || Arcane

🧡 beta'd by @spxllcxstxr 🩷 art by @wapimostosis 🧡 available on ao3

<- part 2. | part 4. ->

Two-twenty-five Pyke Ave.

Jayce stood on the sidewalk in front of the two-story house, an older home that looked like it could use some TLC. He was in an older neighbourhood, one coined Zaun, that he hadn’t stepped foot in of his own volition. It was unfamiliar territory but far from intimidating, yet it had left him feeling the slightest bit uncertain—no, nervous.

Though it wasn’t from what lingered in the neighbourhood, it was from what was behind that front door. The flickering light of the street lamps cascaded over his figure and cast an orange glow around him as he stood in place, listening to the sounds of crickets from the otherwise empty park behind him as his feet remained planted over the concrete.

Over his shoulder was his book bag that carried his chemistry homework, which he hadn’t needed help with but was the only excuse he could come up with in a futile attempt to gain Viktor’s interest. Maybe if everything went well, they would study together, right? Perhaps that would form a friendship or mutual friendliness of sorts.

Unlikely.

Regardless, he made a mental note to thank Sky for inviting him. At least she gave him a chance if nothing else.

After a few minutes of overthinking, Jayce eventually stood on the doorstep and lifted his hand to knock, but it opened before he could, and he was met with a face that made his cheeks burn red.

“Huh,” Viktor hummed, golden eyes narrowing as he looked Jayce up and down. He wasn’t wearing his varsity jacket; instead, he had a muted yellow crewneck with a puka shell necklace peeking from it and dark blue jeans that made him appear far more casual than normal. Viktor wasn’t going to admit the thought floating through his mind—Jayce looked good. Really good. “You’re early.”

“Should I not be?” Jayce shifted on his feet, chuckling awkwardly as he stepped inside the home and glanced around at the new territory, taking everything in, from the ticking clock on the wall to the mugs from morning’s breakfast that remained on the coffee table in the living room. In what he could only assume was the kitchen, he heard the sounds of two men chatting and laughing, wondering if Vi was there too. This was her home, wasn’t it?

A smirk grew on Viktor’s lips as he shut and locked the door behind Jayce, hiding the amused expression, “Wasn’t sure if you’d show if I can be honest.”

“Really?” His hazel eyes flickered to settle on Viktor, following him as he made his way through the house and past the kitchen. Curious, Jayce’s gaze bounced over, and he saw two men—one taller and broad, the other shorter and thin. Their backs were faced toward him, and they stood in front of the kitchen counter, either cooking or cleaning, laughing and nudging themselves against each other affectionately.

“Vi and Powder’s dads.” Viktor said quietly, looking over his shoulder as he led Jayce through the house until they reached the basement steps, “Vander and Silco. They won’t bite.”

Dads.

Jayce wasn’t sure why, but the thought of them made him smile. He’d have to ask Vi about it one day, given the fact he saw her more often than not.

“Cool, cool,” Jayce voiced casually, eyes lowering to the steps as Viktor navigated down them slowly, step by step, with his cane in his hand. “Do you need a—”

“I’m fine.” Viktor was quick—focused, “Going up is difficult.”

Jayce was rendered silent, moving slowly as he continued to follow Viktor. The walls down the stairs were covered in posters from shows and movies he’d heard of but never watched, leading them down into a den that he could only assume was occupied by Vi and Powder most of the time. The moment they reached the basement, he looked around. Definitely a haven for nerdy teenagers.

His eyes landed on a box TV pushed against a wooden-panelled wall with an old SEGA hooked up to it and numerous controllers, a couch in front of it that had seen better days, the fabric tearing in a few places and stained from years of spills. On the wall to its left rested a tall bookshelf, the shelves carrying VHS tapes, books and various video games. There was even a record player on the opposite side of the room, quietly playing a rock album that Jayce had never heard before. Warm lights strung along the walls and ceiling pulled the space together, illuminating the dim space into a cozy nook where Jayce felt at home—safe.

“Hey, Jayce.” Sky chirped softly, sitting at one side of the large table nestled in the middle of the room, patting the empty seat next to her. “Viktor’s characters are good to go. He even levelled them up for you and prepared them with inventory, weapons and spell lists. Come take a look.”

Across from her sat Ekko and Powder, two faces that he recognized but had only seen in passing through the school halls. It was hard not to recognize them, both having rather striking features that were hard to miss, even for someone like Jayce, who hardly paid much attention to his surroundings.

He smiled, a silent thank you, stepping further and looking over at the two he had yet to introduce himself to, offering a humble wave, “Powder and Ekko, right? I’m Jayce. I don’t think we’ve ever officially met before… I see your sister a lot.” He directed the last comment to Powder, who raised a curious eyebrow.

She watched as Jayce took the seat to Sky’s right and to Viktor's left, who sat around the corner at the head of the table. It was hard to take him seriously because of one assumption: Jayce Talis was a popular boy who didn’t care about anyone but himself. That’s how most people viewed him, well, the ones who weren’t in awe over him. The ones who saw past the popularity bullshit, like Viktor.

“You know Vi?” Powder asked, resting her elbows on the tabletop. She looked Jayce up and down, her gaze darting to Viktor for a moment as he slid several of the character sheets in his direction.

“Yeah, she’s dating Caitlyn Kiramman. Cait’s like a sister, so Vi’s been around lots when I’m at her place. Just saw her yesterday, actually.” Jayce said thoughtfully, looking down at the character sheets passed to him. Three characters—paladin, fighter or barbarian. His brows furrowed together as he looked them over, and Sky leaned forward, pointing out certain characteristics regarding each character, such as their feats and proficiencies. Words that rang familiar for Jayce but rusty.

Powder and Ekko exchanged a curious look. What a small world.

“You probably see her more than I do. She’s hardly home these days. Always sneaking to Caitlyn’s house after curfew or ignoring me at school because of her.” Powder droned, resting her chin on her hand as she waited not-so-patiently for the session to begin, the other hand tapping her long-painted nails against the wood surface.

Jayce half-listened, still following Sky’s words about the characters, knowing very well he needed to or else he would lag behind. “Yeah, I get it, though. Relationships can take over your life. There have been times I push people away because of Mel and didn’t even realize,” Jayce said, the admission coming off too easily—acting as though he and Mel hadn’t had a horrible break-up just two weeks prior. It was hard to accept it, and he often forgot.

Viktor remained silent during the exchange, focused on his last-minute preparations for the session as he set up the screen that blocked the player’s view of his materials. The mention of Mel grabbed his attention, and his eyes momentarily shifted to watch Jayce. The not-so-fond memories were clear as day in his mind: trying to pay attention in class but instead watching Jayce and Mel pass notes to each other, giggling and causing a disturbance, and getting away with it. It was annoying, and he hated how much it bothered him, refusing to dig deeper about why. He shoved those thoughts aside; there was no need to get worked up over it now.

“Tell me about it,” Powder moaned dramatically, “I think I might actually go crazy because Ekko never leaves me alone. The old ball and chain.”

“Okay, chill out. I give you plenty of space.” Ekko chuckled. His arm was strung over his bent knee, pulled to his chest as he sat back casually. His fingers held a d20, and he examined it carefully, eyes then focusing beyond where Jayce sat. “Thought you and Mel broke up?” He asked, simply curious. Powder was quick to nudge her boyfriend’s side for such an intrusive question, and he straightened up, “Shit—sorry. None of my business.” He mumbled.

“Oh,” Jayce’s eyes widened as everyone looked at him, including Viktor. “It’s all good. We broke up a couple of weeks ago. It was mutual. Totally mutual.”

Viktor’s eyes softened, noticing the way Jayce’s shoulders deflated and how he forced a smile on his lips. It was undoubtedly not mutual.

“Did you pick a character yet?” He asked, looking around his screen at Jayce, unsure why he felt the need to distract him. He didn’t owe him anything.

Jayce looked down at the one character sheet in his hand that he’d clutched tight enough that it wrinkled: a fighter.

“This one.” He said, smiling as he showed him the sheet like a child proudly showing their artwork to a parent, “A human fighter. I should probably stick with the easy character so I don’t hold you all back.” He chuckled, placing the sheet on the table.

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short,” Ekko said, tossing the dice back into the box off to the side. “Human fighters are just as difficult as the rest. They’re complicated. Right, Viktor?”

“No. They’re very easy to play.” Viktor replied promptly, eyes flitting to Jayce for a beat. He was surprised to see the boy staring at him with a smile—laughing at his witty quip. His cheeks burned hot, so much so that he ducked his head down and hid behind the screen. The last thing he needed was for Jayce to think that he liked having him around. He didn’t.

Right?

“You’ll do fine,” Sky said encouragingly, beaming at Jayce, “This is Ekko’s first campaign, so he’s still learning, too. We’re just here to have fun.”

“And to finish the campaign with no deaths, so don’t hold us back.” Powder warned, a smile spreading on her lips.

“Aren’t you the one who got kidnapped? I wouldn’t worry about me.” Jayce jested, and Ekko erupted into laughter as Powder rolled her eye, though her amusement was obvious.

“Are we ready?” Viktor interrupted, looking between everyone as he set his hands over the notes in front of him—ever prepared and serious as his role of the dungeon master. These nights were his to escape, to forget about the real world for a few hours, and having Jayce around was making that difficult, but he’d manage.

The four players looked at Viktor, nodding. Jayce, though, felt his hands grow clammy at the prospect of starting. All he needed was to watch and learn, and he was great at that.

Clearing his throat, Viktor took a few moments to collect himself, gathering his thoughts before slamming his hands hard onto the table, speaking in a clear, boisterous voice that startled Jayce. “Braum Forgehammer,” he said, looking at the newest player at the table, “A wandering adventurer looking for a way to bide his time as he travels through Faerûn searching for war and battles to entertain him. A few slain ogres here or a goblin camp there—but nothing seems to hold his attention for long. Yet, a lucky man, fate was on his side yet again. One night, he’s venturing through the woods when he stumbles across a camp.”

As Viktor spoke clearly, Jayce was instantly pulled in and engaged, unable to take his eyes off him as he stared in wonder. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen or heard before, his mind leaving the reality they were in and travelling to the woods like he was right there in the world that Viktor conjured so effortlessly.

“At this camp are two adventurers who surround a fire while they rest, bickering back and forth as they plot to save their friend. One is a tiefling warlock staring into the flames and ready to storm the war camp that holds his lover captive, and the other is a halfling cleric pacing back and forth and trying to keep her friend calm so he doesn’t act irrationally. As Braum steps closer to the campfire, the flames illuminate his rugged face, the scars and his armour telling stories of the battles he’d won, but he steps on a twig, and the snapping sound is loud enough to rouse nearby attention, alerting the camp.”

Viktor trailed off his words, and Sky picked up on this almost immediately and took it as her chance to jump in, but her eyes widened when Jayce talked first.

“I approach the fire slowly,” he said, his voice shaky but certain, “and I raise my hands up in a gesture of peace. I’m Braum Forgehammer,” he looked at Ekko, “an adventurer searching for a battle to join and aid.”

Ekko perked up, leaning ahead and watching as Jayce raised his hands, much like Braum. He fell into the ease of role-playing considerably quicker than he had himself, and that excited him. He grinned briefly but cleared his throat and settled back into his chair, returning to character.

Jayce dropped his hands, looking down at his player sheet for a moment as he tried to stomp down his bubbling nerves, “U-Uh,” he stuttered, “I overheard that you have a friend who’s been kidnapped by a camp of duergars. I can help.”

Sitting back, Viktor watched as the group spoke to each other. One of his favourite parts as a DM was simply listening and watching the players converse, his mind growing with possibilities of where to guide them next. However, his eyes primarily focused on Jayce as he talked, his voice louder than the rest. He had fit into this game far too well for someone who he assumed had no prior knowledge of the game, but maybe he was quick to judge him. As he listened, he couldn’t help but smirk, out of sight from behind the screen.

“How do you plan on helping us?” Ekko questioned, his eyes narrowing as he sat forward. “What do you have to offer?”

“If you’re planning to storm a war camp, you need a strategy. Do you know their layout? How many guards do they have?” Jayce looked between them, “Two mages are strong, but I bring physical strength that can turn the odds in your favour. Don’t you want to save your friend?”

Viktor perked up, feeling his heart thump hard against his chest—entranced at the way Jayce roleplayed so effortlessly. With each passing second, it became like second nature. It was beautiful to witness.

“I’m assuming for a price. No one wants to help without coin.” Ekko furthered.

“Just a safe place to rest my head at night,” Jayce answered.

“I vote yes!” Sky smiled, “What do you say, Xerath? We’ll need all the help we can get.”

“...Fine.” Ekko agreed, his eyes flashing with interest, “But if you’re lying to us, you’ll regret it.”

Jayce nodded, “You have my word.”

Any fears and worries of this night were long gone, his chest puffing out as everything worked out in his favour. It was easier than he initially thought, and although he pushed aside much of his pride and shame to dive into the roleplaying without second-guessing himself… he liked it. A lot. His inner middle-school self was thriving, ready to take on anything that was thrown his way, and most importantly of all?

He glanced at Viktor and found that he was already staring at him. Wide-eyed and in awe—a look he’d never seen on him over their few interactions. It made his stomach flutter, wondering if this was it. Was he winning him over?

Viktor broke their intimate eye contact first, pale cheeks dusted with a shade of pink as he collected himself and interjected with a commanding tone, “As you all gather around the campfire, Xerath and Seraphine share what they know about the duergar war camp. It’s nestled deep in a rocky ravine in the caverns of the Underdark, surrounded by steep cliffs and protected by a wooden wall, guarded by two watchtowers that loom on either side of the main gate. This is where the guards keep a sharp eye out for intruders, and it will prove tough to enter stealthily. A bonfire serves as their gathering spot in the centre of the camp, and it’s there Miss Fortune is trapped in a cage.”

“Okay,” Jayce murmured, looking at the other two with a slight hum of approval, “Let’s strategize and save your friend.”

The group fell into the game's rhythm and continued plotting during the long rest, allowing them to roleplay and learn more about each other as Jayce dove headfirst into the campaign so effortlessly. As they bantered back and forth, Viktor watched Jayce more than he should, a repetitive behaviour he couldn’t control. As if to make it any better, he told himself it was because he wanted to ensure that Jayce stayed afloat. After all, it was daunting to join an ongoing campaign.

But he knew that to be far from true this instance, and that’s what had been so riveting about this night.

Jayce was too confident and charismatic—an unsettling amount. He read the room effortlessly, adapting to Sky’s enthusiasm, Ekko’s humour and Powder’s sarcasm as if he had been their friend for years. Viktor had been convinced that Jayce was another pompous asshole who thought D&D was for kids and geeks and judged those for playing. His nose upturned at the mere idea of it, better than it. But here he was, leaning into it eagerly, his voice steady as he delivered lines so smoothly, embodying Braum Forgehammer.

Viktor’s fingers hovered over his notes, his gaze flicking between the map and Jayce’s face. It was mesmerizing.

Attractive.

Jayce fought to focus on the game, catching himself glancing at Viktor far too many times and admiring how his sharp features were softened in the warm glow of the overhanging lights. It was supposed to be simple: get Viktor’s attention and win him over so he was one step farther in rebranding him into the Prom King. Yet, the longer he played, the more invested he became in the game and less so about the reason he was here.

He hadn’t thought about the bet since he stepped foot in the house.

The group settled into their long rest, and Viktor spoke once more—narrating them through their movements as they made their way to the duergar camp and took out the watchtowers in a small battle that hadn’t alerted the remainder of the camp.

As they crept further, it was clear that stealth wasn’t the group’s strong suit after several failed rolls that resulted in a chorus of groans. Braum’s armour clinked loudly despite his best attempts to move quietly, and Seraphine’s nerves got the better of her, causing her to trip on a loose stone. The remaining duergars were alerted, and suddenly, the group found themselves in the middle of a big skirmish that erupted Jayce’s stomach into nerves.

The first fight was easy and acted as combat practice for Jayce. Everything was beginning to feel like a piece of cake, but as soon as he saw the players and NPCs on the tiles in the middle of the table, he knew how tough the next one was going to be. It was strange how real it all felt, how each move he made had to be carefully thought through for his and his team's sake—it was like playing a football game. All he needed was time to think.

Stay cool. Breathe. You got this. A positive mantra that Jayce always said to himself.

“Roll for initiative,” Viktor said, his voice cool and steady despite the chaos that was unfolding. After all, it wasn’t him playing—he enjoyed seeing his players hit difficult situations. He looked at Jayce, studying his reaction and catching the nervous look in those big, doe eyes. He reached out, holding onto a d20 and passing it to him, their hands connecting briefly as a shared electric shock rushed through them.

“You got this,” Ekko said, his eyes bright. They all watched in awe as Jayce took the first roll.

The fight was brutal, with Sky and Ekko holding their own until they were struck down by the barbarian warlord. Viktor’s narration became urgent after each turn, wide eyes landing on Jayce, “Xerath and Seraphine collapse after a heavy strike from the warlord’s great-axe. Braum stands alone on the battlefield with two remaining enemies…” he leaned closer to Jayce, “what is his next move?”

Jayce skimmed his player sheet, his eyes catching on to a feat marked in bold: Great Weapon Master. His hand hovered over his dice as he weighed his options, clammy as his nerves shot up. The warlord and his final mage loomed on the battlefield, the final obstacle between him and rescuing Miss Fortune—but they were both at half health. He could do it.

“I’m going to use Great Weapon Master!” He declared proudly, his voice exuding confidence as he read the words on his sheet. “I’ll take the negative five to hit for a shot at extra damage.”

Viktor’s eyebrows lifted in approval, smirking. “Bold move. Roll to hit.”

Jayce’s heart pounded as he tossed the d20 onto the table. Time seemed to slow as it spun and clattered to a stop. His eyes widened as he saw the result.

“Nat 20!” he shouted, his grin breaking through any remaining nerves.

The room erupted with cheers, Sky and Ekko clapping in their seats despite their characters’ unconscious states, and Powder shouting along in character as Miss Fortune, encouraging Jayce to save her.

Viktor’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “A critical hit. Roll for damage.”

Jayce grabbed his dice and rolled for the damage. The additional plus ten to damage turned his attack into a devastating blow against the warlord.

Viktor leaned forward, standing now as he peered over the table, grabbed at the piece representing the warlord, and flicked it away. “Your greatsword slices through the warlord’s armour, carving deep into his chest. Blood sprays as the duergar lets out a guttural roar before collapsing to his knees, lifeless and defeated.”

“And now,” Jayce said, eyes watching Viktor, “I’ll use the bonus action from Great Weapon Master to attack the caster.”

Viktor inclined his head, gesturing to the dice. “Go ahead. Roll to hit.”

The dice clattered again, and though the roll wasn’t perfect, it was enough to hit, and the damage roll was even higher. Viktor described the scene, eyes wide and smiling greatly. “Your blade cleaves through the air, landing a fatal blow against the spellcaster’s chest. She crumples to the ground, leaving the camp silent and still. The battle is conquered by Braum Forgehammer.”

“Yes!” Jayce exclaimed, a fist in the air as he celebrated and stood to cheer, his chair flying back to the floor. Ekko and Sky both cheered for the victory that had been looking too much like devastation for their liking. Viktor smiled from behind the screen as he sat back down and cleared his throat, regaining their attention.

“I’m still trapped!” Powder interjected dramatically, hands slamming onto the table.

Once Miss Fortune was rescued and they had gone through with a final long rest, Viktor ended the session—much to Powder’s dismay. A few complaints were thrown at the others, but Ekko reminded her that she should avoid getting kidnapped if she wanted to be involved.

“I know what I’m doing.” Powder chastised him, stuffing her dice into a purple pouch that she tucked into her tote bag.

“It was incredible playing with you, Jayce. You’re a natural.” Sky said, redirecting the conversation as she strung her messenger back over her shoulders, “You’ll get to meet Mylo and Claggor next time. It’ll be great.”

He perked up—next time?

“Hey, can you give us a ride, Sky?” Powder asked, jumping to her feet and slipping her hand into Ekko’s, “We’re going to go check out the late showing of Hellboy tonight.”

“That’s tonight?” Ekko asked, puzzled. “Then why are you complaining about us ending the session?”

“Shush,” she chided, “Let me complain.”

“I have to give Viktor a ride, sorry—” Sky started.

“Take them. It’s fine,” Viktor said, folding his screen, “You can drive me home, can’t you?” His eyes landed on Jayce, amber boring into hazel.

Jayce’s heart erupted into hot flames, and his stomach churned wildly as he stared at Viktor. He couldn’t believe it, and all he could do was nod.

“Sweet, thanks, Sky. You’re the best,” Powder chimed happily, her attention turning to Jayce and Viktor. Stay as long as you want. Vander and Silco don’t mind. Just let them know when you’re leaving.” Her attention returned to Ekko as she tugged him along, and Skye followed. “Come on! I don’t want to be late like last time. I like the previews.”

“See you later,” Jayce said warmly as he lifted his chair back to its feet, waving at the three that disappeared from their view and leaving him alone with Viktor. He’d returned to packing his belongings together into an organized pile at the head of the table, which he then covered with the folded screen.

There was silence growing between the two as Jayce stared, lips thinned together awkwardly, and then he forced his gaze to bounce around the room to find anything else to focus his attention on. He found a particular Lord of the Rings poster intriguing, one that was just a picture of that devastatingly beautiful elf—what was his name again? It was on the tip of his tongue.

“Do you have a crush on Orlando Bloom?” Viktor’s voice shattered through Jayce’s concentration, and his eyes flew back to him.

“What? No—” Jayce stammered, brows furrowing together.

Viktor smirked, looking between Jayce’s eyes. He leaned against the table, fingers playing with a d4 die. “I’m kidding,” he murmured, noticing how nervous Jayce seemed. He wondered where that charisma and confidence had vanished to now that they were alone, his heart thumping at the prospect of Jayce being nervous because of him. Maybe it was wishful thinking.

Even then, why would Viktor want that? It’s not like he liked Jayce, right?

“You’ve played before, haven’t you?” He questioned, the faint sound of Queens of the Stone Age playing from the record player, an album he brought from his own home and kept there.

Jayce shook his head, fingers smoothing against the player sheet he kept in front of him, “Nope.”

“Are you serious?” Viktor narrowed his eyes, “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” Jayce said, chuckling in exasperation, “Cross my heart and hope to die. I’ve never played before.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Jayce watched Viktor, their gaze tense as the other waited for an explanation. It’s not like Viktor was wrong for his disbelief; most new players came into their first games anxious and asking many more questions than he had. It was strange, considering he had guided through first-time players many times.

“Okay, you want the real answer?” Jayce said, dropping his gaze as his cheeks burned red with embarrassment, “I’ve never played but always wanted to. My mom bought me the player's handbook when I was in middle school, and I read it probably more than ten times.”

Viktor’s eyes widened, and he couldn’t fight back the smile on his lips, “Jayce Talis is a closeted geek? Shocking news.”

“Don’t say it like that,” he groaned in response, “I never had any friends who wanted to play, so I gave it up. That’s all.”

“That’s actually a bit sad, don’t you think?” Viktor murmured, placing the die back onto the surface and pressing the pad of his middle finger atop the softened point on the d3. “Let me guess, you told your friends about it, and they said it was a game for nerds, so you hid the book away and forgot it existed.”

Jayce was silenced, lips twitching as he looked over the player sheet, reading the scribbled handwriting that he could only assume was Viktor’s. He clicked his tongue, hazel eyes returning back up to those golden eyes that no longer intimidated him, “You’re really perceptive. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Hm,” Viktor shrugged, “Once or twice. Maybe a handful of times.”

Another laugh bubbled up from Jayce’s throat, and Viktor hated the way his body responded. A stomach stirring with butterflies, unable to fight back the smile that mirrored his—it was a pain, really. Mere hours ago, he was wondering how he could embarrass Jayce during the game and put him in his place like he felt he deserved to be.

And here he was, laughing with him. Maybe he wasn’t so bad.

“When you say it out loud like that, it makes me sound like a coward,” Jayce said through gentle laughter, shaking his head as he leaned back on his chair with arms crossed over his chest. His eyes remained fixated on the man in front of him, who was staring right back.

“Well, if the shoe fits,” Viktor replied casually, eyes glistening with mischief.

“Ouch. You really know how to hurt a guy’s feelings.” Jayce laughed, revealing that damn tooth gap that forced Viktor to look away. There were too many thoughts swirling around his head that he couldn’t bear to revel in because there was no way in hell he should be thinking the one thing that was like admitting defeat—that he was most definitely attracted to Jayce.

“Mmh,” Viktor hummed, grabbing his bag and rising to his feet, unable to sit there and chat any longer, “Kindness isn’t my strong suit. I prefer harsh words.”

Jayce followed his movements, pushing the chair back over the well-worn rug and standing up, his backpack stringing over his shoulder. The chemistry homework was long forgotten, and he was ready to follow Viktor blindly.

“I would say you’re kinder than you think you are, but if it weren’t for Sky, I wouldn’t be here tonight, so…” Jayce trailed off, looking down at Viktor as they stood—towering over his smaller stature. Easily six inches taller, give or take.

Viktor looked up at Jayce, unmoving from his spot, as he leaned on his cane. There were thousands of thoughts running through his head that he wanted to throw at him, to find answers about why he was even here in the first place. He wasn’t blind to Jayce’s natural intelligence, seeing how he passed through each of their shared classes with flying colours, likely all of his classes. If he needed help with his chemistry homework, which was highly unlikely, why would he ask him of all people?

There were far more reliable people who ran in his circle. Hell, Caitlyn Kiramman could help him, no? Even if she was younger, she already had the intellect to jump into an Ivy League.

Surprisingly, Viktor bit his tongue. Holding back the questions he desperately wanted to ask, all because he was curious. Maybe Sky was right with what she had told him earlier while they were setting up.

“Jayce Talis wants to hang out with you. Just see where it goes! You have to be the slightest bit curious, right?”

Of course, she was right.

“I’m glad you came,” Viktor murmured, “I… had fun.”

“Me too,” Jayce replied earnestly, his expression brightening, “Do you think I could come to the next session?”

The two boys stared at each other, the music in the background serving as the soundtrack to their thoughts. Viktor didn’t answer yet, stuck in place as he found himself getting lost in those hazel eyes that sparkled, flecks of gold swirling through the irises he wanted to get a better look at. All the while, Jayce stared back into his golden ones, wondering how many shades of yellow he could count if he was given the chance.

Then, Viktor replied. Breaking yet another bout of silence.

“Drive me home, then I’ll decide.” He answered, his voice raspy as he turned away. His eyes were wide, heart pounding in his ears as he berated himself. No more of that. No more staring into those goddamned eyes.

“Yeah, for sure,” Jayce perked up, following Viktor and chewing on the inside of his cheek as his mind reeled with thoughts that he’d never had before. Thoughts he wanted to shove deep down.

They both remained quiet, trying to forget the moment they shared as they slowly ascended the stairs. Jayce stuck close behind, remembering Viktor’s words about it being worse going up the stairs, so he watched carefully. Eyes watching each step that Viktor took, leaning on the railing with one hand and his cane with the other.

“Sorry,” Viktor mumbled as they reached the top, cheeks burning red.

“For what?” Jayce furrowed his eyebrows and readjusted the strap over his shoulder as he reached the first level.

“I tend to hold up the pace a lot.” He said, avoiding his gaze as he led Jayce back through the house, moving through each twist and turn of the halls.

“It’s okay, you can’t help it,” Jayce said thoughtfully, eyes flickering up when they entered the living room where Vander and Silco sat in the armchair and sofa, respectively, as they watched an episode MASH. “Oh—hey. Jayce Talis.” He said, stepping forward and extending his hand out to them one by one with a big smile, “I’m a friend of Viktor’s.”

Viktor hadn’t even recovered from Jayce’s kind words before he was hit with that—his friend?

“Vander. Nice to meet you, kid,” Vander’s deep voice rumbled. He smiled to himself as he leaned back on the armchair, legs kicked up over a wooden ottoman. He puffed on a pipe, the smoke bellowing above him, while Silco drank from a whiskey glass, “Guess we’ll be seeing you around more often?”

“A friend of Viktor’s is a friend of ours,” Silco smiled warmly, raising his drink to Jayce, the dark liquid sloshing around the glass. “You’re welcome here anytime, Jayce.”

“Sweet, thanks.” Jayce grinned, flashing that stupid charismatic smile that made Viktor weak in the knees at the mere sight of it. “I’ll see you around.”

“Goodnight,” Viktor added, nodding to them before he led the way out of the house, relishing in the cool night air that helped reduce the heat sweltering his body. He couldn’t wait to get home, already regretting asking Jayce to drive him, but ten blocks of walking wasn’t in the cards, not when his leg ached.

“You hear that? I’m allowed to come whenever I want.” Jayce teased, stepping into Viktor’s pace as they walked down the overgrown concrete path, weeds breaking through each cement block in the ground, “So, I guess I’ll be seeing you next session.”

Viktor scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Don’t get excited. They say that to everyone.”

Jayce fished his keys from his pocket, unlocking his Jeep parked in front of the house. Viktor watched as the headlights flashed several times. He held back a teasing remark about his choice of vehicle, which was much less humble than what most teenagers drove.

“No offence, but I doubt any of you bring over new people a lot.” Jayce teased, and Viktor flashed a look at him, surprised at the dig of his character.

“Are you calling me anti-social? How dare you.” Viktor said sharply, smirking as he met with the passenger side door, but as he reached out, he was quickly overshadowed by Jayce, who reached the door handle first. The door opened, and without asking, Jayce helped him into the vehicle. “Thanks,” he murmured, glancing at him as he shut the door.

Once Jayce hopped in, he tossed his backpack to the backseat and started the engine, which roared loudly as the headlights flashed on. His hand snapped forward to turn down the stereo, which had been blasting a rather popular Jesse McCartney song loudly, “Shit, sorry. It’s the radio—I don’t… listen to that.”

Viktor snorted a laugh, buckling himself in as he glanced at Jayce, his face obscured by the shadows and illuminated only by the bouncing light from the headlights. “I wouldn’t judge you if you did.”

“Yes, you would.”

“Yeah, I would.”

It was odd how well they got along. A natural bond formed between them. As time passed, they understood each other more—their personalities, while opposite, fit together like pieces of a puzzle. Viktor, who was reserved and somewhat cynical of the world, was met with Jayce’s outgoing charm and loud optimism. They just… fit.

After a few short minutes of driving, the vehicle came to a slow roll, stopping outside a surprisingly put-together home. Not that Jayce thought that Viktor should come from a broken-down home, but—his assumptions of the neighbourhood seemed to be proven otherwise

“This is it,” Viktor said, unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the passenger door, “Thanks for the ride.”

“Wait,” Jayce stopped him, watching as Viktor looked over his shoulder at him, waiting. “I had a really good time tonight, Viktor. Uh,” he coughed, clearing his throat, “Did you want a ride to school tomorrow? Or something, I don’t know.”

Viktor watched him, his stomach fluttering like it had over a handful of times that evening. He dropped his gaze for a fleeting moment, then back to Jayce, “Sure. I’ll see you in the morning.” He slipped out of the car easily, his cane providing a stable source as he stepped onto the sidewalk and turned to close the door, “Goodnight, Jayce.”

Jayce didn’t have time to say it back, the door slamming before he could utter the words. He watched through the passenger window as Viktor walked up to his home, slow but moving with practiced ease after years of using his cane. He stayed there, silently staring in awe—his heart soaring when Viktor turned around once he opened the door, offering a small wave as the light from the home silhouetted his frame.

He lifted his hand in return, waving a slow goodbye until he was out of view.

Jayce sat there, silent. Staring—his stomach burning with desire.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

A/N: ahhh, this took so long but it's here! really happy with how this one turned out, hope you enjoy! <3

#jayvik #jayvik fanfic #jayvik arcane #jayce x viktor #viktor x jayce #jayce talis x viktor #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #arcane jayvik #jayce talis #viktor #viktor arcane #jayce talis fic #viktor arcane fic #arcane #jayce arcane #wordsbyspatial #spatial fic: v’s all that

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lindsey-laufeyson · 4 months ago

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Distractions- Chapter 15

Distractions Masterlist

Pairing: Reader x FWB!Tom Hiddleston

Series Warnings: SMUT, fluff, angst, friends with benefits

A/N: I told myself I would post this chapter before the new year and I just barely made it! This is one of my favorite chapters I’ve written so far, so I really really hope you like it!

Hawaii was quickly turning out to be one of your favorite places in the world, and it wasn’t just the idyllic weather or the gorgeous scenery. It was the culture. Everyone there was always so kind and happy. You learned that “Aloha” was not just the word for hello and goodbye. It was a way of life. It meant generosity, kindness, and love. And it was palpable everywhere you went.

You were having the time of your life. Yes, you were having copious amounts of sex, obviously, but you also went whale watching, hiking through the rainforest, kayaking, shopping at a local market, and visited famous film locations for movies like Jurassic Park, Pearl Harbor, and, of course, the first film Tom shot in Hawaii, Kong: Skull Island, where Tom excitedly showed you around like a proud little puppy. It was really quite adorable.

When the two of you weren’t off on an adventure or fucking each other’s brains out, you were relaxing in the lounge or by the private pool and hot tub that you were pleasantly surprised to find out came with the house. One day you were laying out on a sun lounger, reading a book while sneaking glances at Tom who was doing laps in the pool. He looked so sexy when he was all wet.

When he finished his laps, Tom stepped out of the water and toweled off, his sopping trunks leaving hardly anything to the imagination. “Are you ever actually going to get in the water, or are you just going to lay there teasing me?”

“I’m perfectly content laying in the sun with my book, thank you,” you told him matter of factly. “And I’m not teasing you.”

“Oh but you are, darling. You’re basking in the sun in your bikini with a book. You should know by now that’s enough to drive me mad.”

“That sounds like a you-problem, Tommy boy.”

Tossing the towel to the side, he laid on his stomach between your legs on the lounge chair, propping himself up on his forearms which rested on either side of your waist. Then he plucked your book from your hands and set it on the side table.

“Oi! I was still reading that!” you protested.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow as he looked up at you, his head just above your chest. “Because if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were only using the book to try to hide your staring.”

“Good thing you know better then.” You ran your fingers through his wet locks.

He gave you his best over-the-top puppy dog eyes. “Come on, Sweets. Come swimming with me.”

“Do you really want to wait all the time it will take for me to redo my hair and makeup before dinner tonight?”

“That’s what this is about? Not wanting to ruin your hair and makeup?” There was a bit of laughter in his voice.

“Have you completely forgotten how we met?”

“You’re getting in the pool.”

“I’m really not.”

All of a sudden he shot up and grabbed you, causing you to scream as he hoisted you over his shoulder.

“Thomas William Hiddleston! Don’t you dare!” you yelled, kicking your legs and giggling uncontrollably. You let out another scream as he ran and jumped into the water with you. When you both resurfaced, you splashed him in the face. “You little shit!”

He wiped the water out of his eyes and then shot you a warning look. “Oh, darling. I don’t think you want to start that.”

“You started it when you forced me into the bloody pool!” you challenged, splashing him in the face again.

“Very well.” He stretched out his long arm and used the entire length of it to send a tsunami of pool water at you.

You attempted to dodge it, but you weren’t fast enough, and when you tried to splash him back he simply sent another wave at you, rendering your tiny splashes completely useless.

“This… Is… Not… Fair!” you shouted between splashes.

He didn’t let up. “What was that, darling? I can’t hear you with all the splashing!”

You flashed him your middle finger, making him laugh, and then you decided to try a different strategy. You quickly turned and made your way to the pool stairs to get out of the water.

“You’re not giving up already, are you?” Tom teased. You didn’t answer him, but calmly walked to the side of the pool closest to him, and then suddenly did a cannonball jump right next to him. “Shit!”

“HA!” you mocked him as soon as you came back up. He was nowhere to be found, however, which could only mean one thing. “Fuck.”

Suddenly you felt him grab your legs, and the next thing you knew you were being lifted out of the water and swiftly flipped over his shoulder, sending you crashing right back into the water. When you resurfaced you expected to be immediately assaulted by more splashes to the face, but after you wiped the water from your eyes, you looked at Tom to see him smirking and biting his lip, like he had a cheeky little secret.

“Am I missing something?” you asked, confused.

“Funny you should say that…” He was attempting to hold back a laugh and you realized he kept looking at your chest. When you looked down, you saw that you’d lost your top.

“Thomas!” you shrieked, instantly covering your exposed breasts with your hands.

He couldn’t contain his laughter any longer. “I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but I have seen them before, you know.”

“You did this on purpose!” You attempted to sound cross with him, but you couldn’t help but start to giggle as well.

“I swear to you I didn’t!” he defended. “I’m just incredibly lucky apparently!”

“Oh shut it,” you told him, still giggling and attempting to splash him again.

“Do you really want to start that again?”

You rolled your eyes at him and then looked around. “Where is my top anyway?” You looked at Tom who looked behind you, then back at you, before suddenly diving toward your bikini top.

“No, no, no, no, no!” You dove for it too, but you weren’t fast enough. Tom snatched it just before you could and when you tried to take it from him, he held it up as high as he could. At first you attempted to jump up to reach it, but you soon stopped and shot him a disapproving look. “I know what you're doing.”

He shrugged. “What can I say? I love to watch your tits bounce.”

You shook your head at him. “You know what? Keep the top,” you told him with a smirk, and without another word you exited the pool and headed toward the hot tub. Once you were chest deep in the hot, bubbling water, you looked back at Tom, removed your bikini bottoms, and dropped them over the side of the jacuzzi.

He bit his lip and shook his head, then quickly got out of the pool and rushed inside. You were puzzled by this at first until not a minute later he came back out with a little foil wrapper in his hand and then climbed in the hot tub, removing his trucks immediately..

“Not so fast, Tommy boy,” you said. “You think I’m going to reward you for your behavior just now?”

He raised his eyebrows in mild surprise. “Well I can’t imagine anything involving your naked body would be a punishment.”

“I came in here because I am going to get myself off using one of these jets.”

His eyes lit up. “Ooh, naughty girl.”

“And while I will let you watch, you are not allowed to touch me or yourself.”

His face fell and his eyebrows knitted together, looking as if all of his Christmas presents had been taken away. “Please tell me you're joking.”

You simply shook your head at him, a self-satisfied look upon your face as you turned around in your seat and got up on your knees, bracing yourself with your elbows on the edge of the hot tub and a jet pointed right between your legs. From where Tom was seated, you knew he’d only be able to see your back and maybe some glimpses of your ass which was partially obscured by the bubbles, but he’d still be able to see your hips grinding, and he’d certainly be able to hear you. It was the perfect amount to tease him, and the perfect way to get back at him.

As soon as the jet hit your pussy, you began to moan. Yes, you were putting on a show for him, but by no means did you have to fake it. The powerful stream of water felt so fucking good against your clit and through your folds. You started slowly rolling your hips, but it wasn’t long before you picked up speed, bucking against the current to chase your fast approaching climax.

“Oh, Sweets, you have no idea how fucking sexy you are,” Tom’s gruff voice came from behind you. “It’s borderline cruel, what you’re doing to me right now.”

“But you’re being such a good boy for me,” you praised him, a bit out of breath. You were so close.

“But are you sure you want to cum around nothing, when I could so easily fill that void for you?”

“Fucking hell,” you groaned. His words only brought you closer, until your orgasm suddenly hit you. “Oh god!” You quickly lifted your rear out of the water so he could watch you spasm and clench.

Apparently that was all Tom could take. With a low growl, he stood up and grabbed your hips, leaning forward to whisper in your ear. “Permission to fill this pretty little cunt?” As he said this, you felt his fingers stroke your sensitive pussy.

“Please!” you whined, completely losing your will to keep punishing him. As soon as the word left your mouth he pushed his hard cock inside you. The sneaky bastard must have known you’d give in, because he already had the condom on, not that you were complaining at that point.

You’d barely finished your first orgasm before Tom was fucking you toward your second, gripping your hips tightly as he thrusted in and out of you. It was a good thing there were no neighbors, because the two of you moaning and groaning combined with the sound of the water splashing and sloshing around you was anything but quiet, and certainly more than enough to vividly illustrate what the two of you were doing.

As you felt yourself about to cum again, you held on to the edge of the jacuzzi for dear life while Tom pounded into you even harder. His cock was hitting you in a spot that was making you see stars until finally you reached your second climax. Crying out in ecstasy, you pushed your hips back against his thrusts, encouraging him to cum with you, and that he did.

“Fuck, Y/n,” he groaned, fucking you through your simultaneous orgasms until he finally fell forward, his hands bracing himself on either side of you. You felt his wet abs against your back, expanding and contracting with every heavy breath. Then he kissed your shoulder and stood back up so he could remove the condom, tie it off, and toss it on the ground to pick up later. “And to think, you didn’t want to get wet,” he said, sitting back down.

“Oh hush, you,” you told him playfully, standing up and combing your hair back with your fingers before attempting to wipe away the makeup that you feared had streaked down below your eyes.

“Will you stop?” He put his hands on your hips and pulled you toward him, smiling up at you. “You do realize it is physically impossible for you to look anything less than gorgeous, right?”

You put your knees on either side of him and your hands on his shoulders. “Flatterer.”

“Exhibitionist,” he retorted.

You ran your fingers through the wet curls on the top of his head as you looked down at him. “You loved it.”

“It was agonizing.”

“Good.” You winked at him, and then he pulled you down onto his lap and kissed you.

…

On your last night in Hawaii Tom insisted on cooking you a fancy dinner. You protested, of course, telling him that you would be perfectly content just to order in again, but you knew that there was no changing his mind once he was set on something.

While he cooked, you did your hair and makeup and got dressed. You had decided to wear a dress you had just gotten at a local shop in town. It was a white, flowy maxi dress, covered in various tropical plants, with a plunging neckline, low back, and a slit up to the top of your thigh. To accompany the dress, you curled your hair and pinned up one side with a flower clip.

Tom had told you that you’d be eating outside on the dining set under the pergola by the pool. When you stepped out onto the pool deck, you saw Tom pouring two glasses of wine at the table set for two, underneath warm string lights. He was wearing dark blue trousers and a matching suit jacket tailored perfectly to his slim figure. Underneath his jacket was a crisp white dress shirt with the top three buttons undone, in true Tom fashion, giving you just a peek of his chest hair.

“Hey, stud,” you greeted him.

He set the wine bottle down and turned with a smile, but as soon as he saw you, his smile dropped to a gape. “Hi,” he said, examining you from head to toe as you walked toward him. You were surprised at how caught off guard he had seemed, like he’d never seen you dressed up before or something. “You look…”

“Like a typical tourist in Hawaii?” you joked, putting your arms out and striking a pose.

“Beautiful,” he finished, gazing softly at you as he stepped towards you and placed his hands on your waist. The compliment made heat creep up to your face and you glanced at the ground.

“Well, you look like a snack and a half.” You smiled playfully up at him. “Speaking of which, what’s on the menu tonight?”

“You mean to tell me you didn’t sneak a peek at what was on the stove on your way out here?”

“Okay yes, but that was a flawless segue, was it not?”

He laughed. “Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll go fetch our dinner.”

“Or I could just help you,” you suggested.

“Sit.”

You rolled your eyes as you dropped down in the chair.

“Good girl,” he praised you with a wink before walking back into the house. He knew full well that those two words always went straight through your ears and down to your core, adding kindle to an ember that was constantly glowing when he was around.

Tom had made his ‘famous’ (his words) spaghetti bolognese, and though you had to be extra cautious eating it given your white dress, it was delicious. Even more delicious, however, was the sticky toffee pudding he’d made for dessert. After you finished eating, you attempted to take the dishes, but Tom beat you to it, telling you he’d be right back and not to go anywhere.

After he disappeared in the house, you grabbed your wine glass and moved to sit on the edge of the pool, hiking your dress up so you could dip your feet in. You tipped your head back and looked up at the night sky. The stars were so clear and bright, and the light, warm breeze felt so good on your skin. You’d give anything to stay here, but you had a plane to catch in the morning. No use in worrying about that now though. You wanted to enjoy what little time you had left while you had it.

With your head back and your eyes closed, you listened to the soft music Tom had playing, accompanied by the sounds of the island. After a few moments, you heard the sound of the patio door sliding open and shut, and then footsteps approaching behind you.

“Hawaii suits you,” Tom said as he sat down on the ground to your left, facing you with one leg bent behind you so he could rest his arm on his knee. He’d left his suit jacket inside and rolled his sleeves up past his elbows.

You smiled, but kept your eyes closed. “Hawaii suits everyone. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s quite an agreeable little place.”

“Not everyone’s as gorgeous as the islands themselves, darling.” He leaned in and whispered in your ear. “Maybe even more.”

You opened your eyes and looked at him with your brow furrowed. “Don’t make me vomit up your delicious dinner, Hiddleston.”

He let his head fall forward as he laughed. “Are you enjoying your last night here?”

“You’ve outdone yourself, Tommy boy,” you said. “Why you would waste all this effort on me and not save it for a real date is beyond me.”

Tom paused for a moment as his smile faded and he looked down at the ground. “I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?”

When he looked back up, you could tell he was genuinely frustrated with you. “Act like you don’t deserve my attention.”

You diverted your gaze to the glimmering surface of the pool. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” He tilted his head into your line of sight to get you to look at him. Once you did, he gently brushed your hair off of your shoulder, the tip of his middle finger lightly brushing across your skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

You gave a half-hearted smile. “And what do you see when you look at me?”

“Would you believe me even if I told you?”

“Try me.”

Letting out a nervous little chuckle, he briefly looked out at the dark landscape before turning back to you. “I see a beautiful, talented, and kind hearted woman,” he began, lightly grazing the back of his index finger up and down your spine. Feeling self-conscious, you looked down at your feet swaying beneath the surface of the water while he continued. “Who has been taught she has to earn her worth, when in reality she deserves the world just for her existence alone.”

You looked back up at him to find him looking at you with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him before. It wasn’t lustful, but rather a different sort of longing that almost had a hint of sadness behind it, and once his gaze met your own, it pulled you in. Suddenly, you couldn’t hear the island sounds, couldn’t feel the cool water lapping at your shins, or smell the chlorine emanating from the pool. Slowly, hesitantly, you both leaned toward each other, only ever breaking eye contact to glance at the other’s lips, and then stopped a hair’s breadth away from one another. You stayed like that for a moment, feeling his breath mix with your own as he brought his hand up to delicately cradle your face. Finally, his lips met yours with the most gentle caress, before pulling back once again. You responded in kind with a kiss just as tender, but increasing in depth, only parting when you finally remembered to breathe. When you slowly opened your eyes, you were in a haze. Tom’s eyelids fluttered open as he swallowed hard.

“You’re right, I don’t believe you,” you joked. You both laughed as his head fell forward onto your shoulder. When your laughter subsided, you could hear a cover of the song “Chasing Cars,” by Jessy Hayden playing softly over the speakers.

“Dance with me,” Tom whispered, placing a kiss on your shoulder and looking up at you with his baby blues.

“Do I have a choice?” you teased him.

“Not really, no.” He gave you a little smirk before standing up and offering you his hand.

You lifted your feet from the water to the concrete and took his hand, allowing him to help you stand and lead you to an open area of the patio. With your fingers intertwined, he held your hand close to his chest while his other hand slid around your waist to the small of your back. Meanwhile, you brought your free hand to the nape of his neck and he leaned his head down, his nose lightly brushing against your cheek, as you began swaying side to side to the music. You closed your eyes, enjoying the smell of his cologne and the sound of his voice singing the lyrics just barely above a whisper.

You had no idea how long you’d been dancing by the time the playlist ended and the music stopped, but you hardly noticed. Tom had begun placing sweet and slow kisses down your neck. You hummed contentedly before finally finding the ability to speak again. “Hey, Tommy,” you cooed softly in his ear.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he replied between kisses.

You took his face in your hands and kissed him softly. When your lips parted, you took his hands in yours and took a few steps backward, biting your lip and smiling at him. Then, with a wink, you turned around and led him to the bedroom.

On the way there, Tom removed his shoes and socks, and once in the bedroom, you stopped at the end of the bed. You turned around and began unbuttoning his shirt while he resumed kissing your neck. It wasn’t rushed or frantic like usual, it was slow and deliberate. Soon after his shirt hit the ground, so did his trousers and boxers. Then, with one pull of a string, your dress followed.

Tom lowered himself to his knees in front of you and slowly pulled down your lace panties. After you stepped out of them, he ran his hands up your legs, stopping at your hips. You watched him intently as he began placing light kisses on each little mark he’d left on your body throughout the week. First the fingerprint bruises on your thighs and hips, then the bite marks and hickeys on your breasts and collar bone, following the map of his own creation back up your neck until finally reaching your waiting lips.

“I could kiss you all night,” he quietly mused.

“You’ll have no arguments here,” you replied with a smile as your hands made their way up to cup his face, returning his kiss with increasing passion. In response, he picked you up with your legs wrapped around his hips and laid you down gently on the bed, barely parting his lips from yours in the process. At the same time that his tongue entered your mouth, you felt his large hand begin to fondle and massage your breast, your hardened nipple rubbing against his soft palm. You hummed with pleasure, pushing your chest further into his touch, to which he responded by rolling the sensitive nub between his fingers. Letting out a little whimper, you bucked your hips.

Tom knew exactly what you needed. He slid his hand down your stomach and started stroking your wet folds. You moaned into his mouth as he dipped the tips of his index and middle fingers into your entrance and spread the wetness that had pooled there to your needy clit, gently rubbing it in a slow, circular motion. At the same time, he released your lips from his so he could suck on the most sensitive spot on your neck. Your breathing became more labored as your pleasure built slowly and steadily. It felt amazing, but you needed more.

“Fuck, Tom, I need you,” you pleaded.

He lifted his head and gazed earnestly down at you. “Baby, you have no idea.”

After quickly putting on a condom, Tom grabbed your hand, your fingers lacing together, and pressed his forehead to yours as he pushed inside you. Melodic sighs escaped both of your throats with every measured thrust, reveling in the physical connection as if you hadn’t done it hundreds of times before. Every so often he’d kiss you again, sometimes just barely brushing his lips over yours, and it felt just as electric as it had by the pool. You had no idea why tonight felt different, felt emotional, but it was almost overwhelming. As you came closer to your release, your moans mixed with his like tea and honey, getting sweeter and sweeter until you both came undone, wordless praises falling from your lips.

Tom’s head fell into the crook of your neck, panting against your damp skin while you stroked his hair. You laid like that for a while, Tom occasionally placing a kiss to your neck between his heavy breaths, until he reluctantly pulled out of you and tossed the condom in the bin. When he laid back down, you rested your head and hand on his chest and draped your leg over his hips while he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair.

“Hey, Tommy?” you said after a few moments of laying in comfortable silence.

“Yeah, baby?” he replied sweetly.

“If I could see myself through your eyes…” you began thoughtfully. “...Would I end up wanking in front of the mirror all the time?”

Tom’s chest shook underneath you as he burst out laughing. “Probably,” he managed to reply.

You looked up at him and began laughing too.

…

The rest of the night was filled with more laughing, cuddling, kissing, and incredible sex. Neither of you fell asleep until the wee hours of the morning, and it was all too soon that your alarm woke you up.

You reached over and turned it off.

“Absolutely not,” you heard Tom mumble as he pulled you close, your back flush against his chest.

“What?” you asked with a grin.

“You aren’t leaving,” he grumbled into your hair.

You stroked his arm that was wrapped tightly around your waist. “As much as I wish that were true, I have to get back to work.”

He growled. “How long do we have?”

“I have to leave for the airport in two hours.”

“So an hour to sleep and an hour to have as much sex as possible?”

You giggled. “‘Fraid not, Tommy boy. I still have to pack and then I thought maybe we could have some breakfast and coffee together before I leave.”

“I think we can make that happen,” he said as he leaned over you and kissed you. “How do you feel about me riding with you to the airport?”

You looked at him skeptically. “You’d spend an hour in the car just for an extra thirty minutes with me?”

“Is that alright?”

“More than alright, darling,” you told him with a grin as you rolled onto your back, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him deeply.

After a generous amount of snogging, you stopped abruptly. “I should check in for my flight!”

“Should I be concerned that that’s what you were thinking about just now?” he teased you.

You reached for your phone, only to find it had died since your alarm went off. Afterall, you’d been a bit too distracted the night before to remember to charge it. “Shit.” You turned back to Tom. “Can I use your phone to check in?”

“Of course, love.” He grabbed his phone from his nightstand, unlocked it, and handed it to you. “I will get started on breakfast.” And with a kiss to your cheek, he got up, pulled on his boxers, and headed to the kitchen.

Though you were sad to be leaving, you couldn’t stop smiling as you logged in to your British Airways account. Something felt different, and even though you couldn’t quite place it, it had you walking on air.

You were just finishing checking into your flight when a notification popped up on the top of Tom’s screen. It was a text from Evelyn Dawson, and without thinking, you clicked on it.

Your smile instantly disappeared. You felt like someone had kicked you in the stomach. Of course. How could you forget? This was the arrangement afterall. You were both free to sleep with other people, and why wouldn’t he sleep with his stunning costar?

You cursed yourself when tears began to blur your vision. You felt incredibly stupid for reacting this way when he’d done nothing wrong, and for expecting anything different. This is what you both wanted: fun with no strings. No getting attached.

You couldn’t let Tom see you like this. After marking the message from Evelyn as unread, you called Koa to come pick you up. Then you plugged your own phone in to get as much charge as you could while you quickly packed, trying your hardest to focus on what you were doing in order to prevent more tears. Once you had everything, you made your way out to the entryway.

“Wow, that was quick,” Tom said as he cooked some delicious smelling eggs. It was too bad you wouldn’t be able to sit and enjoy them.

You stayed in the entryway, looking out the window for Koa. You wanted to avoid looking at Tom as much as possible. “Yeah, well, I guess the Honolulu airport is quite busy this time of year,” you explained sheepishly. “So I thought I should head out now.”

You heard the stove click off and a moment later, Tom appeared from around the corner. “What? Darling, I’ve just made breakfast.” He chuckled slightly, but you could tell he was concerned.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You gave him a brief apologetic look before looking down at your fidgeting fingers. “I just– erm– I really don’t want to miss my flight, and Koa will be here any minute.”

“Okay, yeah, just give me a minute to get dressed and then–”

“That’s okay,” you interrupted. “Stay and eat. You shouldn’t let the food go to waste, and I’m probably just going to sleep in the car anyway.”

“Is everything alright?” He stepped toward you and went to put his hand on your waist, but you bent down and picked up your suitcase before he could.

“I’m fine,” you tried to convince him as much as you were trying to convince yourself. “It’s just time to get back to reality.”

Tom’s brow furrowed. “And which part of this exactly wasn’t real?”

As if on cue, Koa pulled up to the house.

“I’m sorry, Tom. I—”

“Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he said, sounding defeated. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

And with that, you hugged him and left as quickly as you could before he could see you tear up again.

Taglist: @chronicallybubbly, @the-princess-of-loki, @princess-ofthe-pages, @darcylikesloki, @kikster606, @foxherder, @simone818283, @newtomofgods, @christinebloodwrittings, @tom-hlover

#tom hiddleston #original content #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x y/n #tom hiddleston x female reader #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston angst #tom hiddleston multichapter series #tom hiddleston imagine #distractions fic

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meiguicha · 1 year ago

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Maladroit Admirer - Rongguo

Danheng x Reader - University AU

Becoming entranced with the most plain looking guy in your tutorial classes leads to a series of very bad, not good fumbles

//So so so so enamoured with the idea of just NPC looking Danheng, short little thingy that I had to get out. Poem is 寄人 by 张泌.

别梦依依到谢家，小廊回合曲阑斜。

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

You don’t think there’s a difference between a crush and love at this point because being in university and adamantly staring at what might be the most boring looking man in this entire sea of people certainly can’t just be a momentary attraction. Short dark hair, dark eyes, decent fashion style and in a business unit, he wasn’t anything special, and yet you just couldn’t, for the life of you couldn’t, take your damned eyes off him.

It was ridiculous, you’ve never even spoken to him, looked at him in the eyes even, but here your heart was, pounding against your ribs begging for more. Every time you walk into that horrifically cold room, freezing your shoulders off because if you brought a jacket you’d be sweating from the journey, you see him already there at some table you won’t sit at because you’re afraid of him. Because you’re a nervous wreck and you know that if you had to talk to him during discussion, all you’d do is hum and agree and have no opinion on your own. Which, you’d like to keep some part of your dignity still, so no thank you.

There has been no man, woman even, that has rendered you so stupid. It must be some kind of witchcraft, there was no other explanation for the grip this man had on you.

You try your best, your absolute best, to focus on the question ahead of you, not like it was actually hard. However, seeing as you were in a small table of three, had an ethics question and you were hyper-aware of every action you made because of that damned man, you certainly weren’t at your peak performance today.

With your table’s assigned question out of the way, the two of them went on to discuss the rest, or rather you and the person next to you since you two were the only ones who attempted the exercise. The discussion didn’t go bad, merely boring and strained seeing as you’ve never actually talked to anyone in this class, so when the exact same person asked to see your graphs. You, of course, took that as a very bad chance to make a joke.

“Just to warn you, I bullshitted my graphs, so if they’re wrong don’t blame me,” You joked, raising your hands in mock-guile.

Somehow, some-god-forsaken-how, despite being in a room speaking at a normal conversational level surrounded by other people talking, everyone heard you. And everyone is staring at you. Great, absolutely great. Ducking your head, you pretend to type something else on your computer. You can only pray that you never see anyone in this class ever again, or have to talk to them (which wasn’t going to happen but you could pretend).

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice his eyes glancing between you and the rest of his table, a kind of vacant stare if you will. Your ears grow hot at this revelation, he must think you’re a total idiot, or a buffoon, whichever one because you might as well be all the ways you could refer to someone as stupid. How you longed to return to the cold dark earth, maybe you wouldn’t say things that made you sound like some brainless highschooler.

By the time the tutorial ends, you’ve already debated ending it all at least three times. With your computer and singular pencil packed up, you absentmindedly head towards the exit, weaving through strewn chairs and the awkwardly placed tables. It is then you notice a familiar someone’s form standing at the door.

Your eyes slowly shift up and who else could it be but the very man who rendered your brain mush, holding the door open and gesturing for you to go.

You barely meet his eyes, bowing your head and quickly scurrying off, at least not before blurting out a quick “Thank you.”

With the speed of a falcon, your footsteps scamper off, hefting your heavy tote bag you now wonder why you brought. Tucking your earphones in, you try your best at nonchalance and it works, for about six steps until the tip of your shoe catches against some crack in the path and you have to walk off the even more public embarrassment.

In the distance, he watches you trip on your own feet and your shoe almost gets stuck on the carpeted pathway. An amused breath escapes him and he wonders what exactly about you is so endearing to him. Danheng swears he has never met someone as oddly appealing even with your little fumbles, and by now he’s given up trying to figure it out.

He’ll find some way to approach you later, when his palms aren’t trying to sweat the skin off of them and his head isn’t going at a thousand thoughts per second. He only hopes you didn’t notice his continuous staring, or the fact that his hand slipped and missed the first time he tried to grab the door handle.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

多情只有春庭月，犹为离人照落花。

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr danheng #dan heng #dan heng x reader #danheng x reader

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fortheloveofwonderland · 1 year ago

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Rusty | Chapter 9 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - You and Spencer embark on a night on the town and things grow awkward fast when you met a handsome stranger. Spencer’s jealousy leaves him determined to show what he’s capable of. But even that doesn’t go quite to plan.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - drinking, smoking, making out, swearing, jealous Spencer, tears, mild argument, erectile issues, fingering, titty sucking, coming untouched, coming in pants, vomit, build up to dissociation.

WC - 6.3k

Chapter 9 - A Cowboys Cowgirl

Spencer sat on the porch as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, jabbing his finger at the screen of his new phone. It had no buttons, just a large touchscreen. It unlocked by reading his face and didn’t have the same kind of tactile quality he was used to in a phone.

Unfortunately, they simply didn’t make devices like his old one and he’d had to settle for this iPhone, for which he had no idea how to use.

You’d somehow managed to sort it so it could keep the same number and magically transferred all of his existing contacts onto it. It all went over Spencer’s head and he stopped questioning it.

Now he was attempting to send Garcia a text message after receiving one from her, positively disbelieving he had spoken to both Luke and Morgan but wouldn’t answer her calls.

It took him nearly twenty minutes to write a reply, his fingers not dexterous enough to figure out the touch screen keyboard. As he finally corrected all of the spelling mistakes and hit send, he heard the door to your lodge open.

He was hesitant to go along with you to the 11th Street Bar for multiple reasons. For starters, bars were not fun when sober, not that he’d ever particularly enjoyed them when he did drink either. Then there was the fact that in two years he’d never interacted with these people and according to you they already thought him rude. He didn’t like socialising, why could no one understand that?

He pushed himself up from the chair, his knee aching slightly but the pain was lessening. You locked the door to the lodge before gliding down the stairs and down the path until you were closing in on him.

It was only when you were in front of him that he could fully appreciate you and he felt a lump begin to form in his throat as he took you in. You wore a floral, off the shoulder dress which stopped at your knees and showed more skin than he ever dreamed of seeing. Pairing it with your red riding boots and you looked almost like a local, the epitome of a cowgirl.

You also looked absolutely ravishing. Spencer’s raging heart was trying to beat its way out of his chest to show you exactly how divine he thought you looked. But his slack jaw and wide eyes said enough and you blanched a little, tilting your head to the side.

“What?” You scuffed your boot in the dirt. “Never seen a genu-wine cowgirl before?” You impersonated a southern drawl.

“I…I, uh…” he cleared his throat. “Sorry, you just…you look…jeez Y/N.”

You giggled at his inability to form a coherent sentence. You had rendered him speechless.

“Well you know, I want to fit in around these parts.” You swung your hips side to side, the dress billowing around you as you did so. “Don’t look so bad yourself, stud.”

Spencer felt his cheeks flush red, the heat quickly spreading down his neck. He still wore his black jeans, the ones he’d noticed you checking him out in yesterday. He also dusted off an old button down from back in his BAU days, in a dark purple colour.

He tucked it into his jeans and left the top few buttons undone. He spent a long time taming his hair and forewent a stetson once he was happy with how it looked.

“Uh, thanks.” He rolled his lip between his teeth.

“Gonna make being friends with you real hard if you keep looking at me like that.” You smirked at him, still impersonating that thick Texas twang.

“Just get in the car, okay?” He shook his head, trying to ignore the way your outfit made him quiver.

You hid your amusement by turning towards the car, Spencer following behind. You paused at the driver’s door.

“Just gotta grab something from the trunk, jump in.” You called over the hood and Spencer nodded before cautiously sliding into the passenger’s seat.

Once he closed his door you sidled around to the trunk and opened it. You glanced up through the car to make sure he wasn’t looking before you lifted the trunk lining.

Hidden away in the empty shell that had once held a spare tyre was a black duffle bag. You quickly unzipped, revealing the wads and wads of bills concealed inside. You grabbed a couple of twenties and folded them, stuffed them in the side of your left boot before zipping the bag and secreting it back away under the trunk lining.

Soon you were hurrying around to the driver’s seat like nothing had happened.

***

The discomfort distended to every single one of his nerve endings the moment the two of you stepped inside the 11th Street Bar. The place was packed and all eyes were instantly on you.

As you sauntered inside you were met by wolf whistles and catcalls and it made Spencer feel incredibly protective of you even though it wasn’t his place.

He watched their hungry gazes linger on your bare legs and bare shoulders and move onto your clothed breasts and backside.

It made a pit form in his chest, more so when you sent smiles and winks across the room in various directions.

He wanted to blanket you, both physically and metaphorically. He wanted those animals to stop staring at you this way. He wanted you to stop enjoying the attention so much.

He followed you like a stray dog towards the bar, where you leaned on the counter, no doubt giving the balding bartender an eyeful of your cleavage.

“Well looky here, if it ain’t Miss Lizzie come back to join us.” The old man hissed as he spoke. “Lookin’ mighty fine tonight if I do say so too.”

“What, this old thing?” You glanced down at your dress before waving a dismissive hand at him.

Spencer felt more out of place than he ever had done in his life. This was quite honestly the last place he ever wanted to be.

Sensing the presence hovering behind you, the bartenders gaze lifted over your head to where Spencer awkwardly stood.

“And if it isn’t Cosmo, gracing us with his presence.” The older man scoffed. “Nice of you to finally show your face round here.”

Spencer swallowed, chewing on his lip.

“His names, Spencer and be nice.” You clucked. “Spencer, this is Cole.”

“What can I get ya missy?” Cole ignored the introduction and looked back at you. “No more of my home brew I hope.”

“Definitely not.” You shook your head. “I will take a shot of tequila and a beer though.”

“What’ll you have, Cosmo?” His eyes shot back up to Spencer.

“Uh, a ginger ale?” He posed it as a question.

Cole pulled a face of disdain and shook his head.

“Ain’t ever met a sober cowboy in all my life.” Cole muttered, turning away to get your drinks.

You felt Spencer’s hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him.

“I hate it here.” He whined. “Can’t we just go home and you can drink that bottle of scotch?”

“I want to stay. I like it here. You can go if you want.” You shrugged, turning back to face the bar.

Turning your back on him. You were turning your back on him.

“You think I’m going to leave you here with all these creeps staring at you?” He moved closer to you, his chest pressed into your back and he spoke against the shell of your ear. “There is not a man in this bar who doesn’t want to sleep with you.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, not turning back to him. “Might just be some guys lucky night then.”

Spencer felt the pit in his stomach grow larger, his heart practically falling into the open chasm. He put his hand on your shoulder again, skin against skin, and spun you slightly roughly back to look at him.

“Don’t make jokes like that.” He growled.

“Who’s joking?” You shook him off with a frown of impatience. “Just because you don’t want to bed me, doesn’t mean someone else can’t, Cosmo.”

Spencer’s mouth fell open, somewhat hurt at your crude summation of your fleeting relationship. Is that really what you thought? Did you really believe he didn’t want to? If only it were that simple.

He wished he didn’t want you so much. It would be far easier for him to not want you with a white hot desire. It had nothing to do with not wanting you, he just couldn’t have you. Not in that way.

When he couldn’t form any words of response, you spoke again, folding your arms over your chest.

“We’re just friends, Spencer. You made that perfectly clear. So as far as I’m concerned, I can do whatever the hell I want. You wanna hang around? Fine. You wanna go home? Also fine. But I’m staying.” You spat, once again turning your back on him as Cole brought your drinks back over.

You were quick to down the tequila before thanking him with a flirtatious smile and paying him with a bill from inside your boot. You practically shoved Spencer’s ginger ale into his hand before brushing past him with your beer.

Cole was looking at him, an odd expression on his features. Spencer felt uncomfortable under his gaze.

“Girl’s a heartbreaker.” Cole shrugged after a while. “Knew it the minute I laid eyes on ‘er. Careful how you tread there.”

With those sage words, Cole was walking away to serve his next customer, leaving Spencer reeling.

***

Two hours later Spencer had procured a table for himself but you wouldn’t stay still long enough to join him. The more tequila you drank, the more energy you seemed to have and you appeared to talk to everyone in the bar but him.

He was still nursing the same ginger ale, feeling much like a spare part. He deliberately missed two calls from Luke, staring at the device as it rang in his hand. He’d hoped after they spoke yesterday Luke would stop with the incessant phone calls. Spencer had half a mind to block his number. He didn’t want it to come to that, but something had to give.

He ignored his phone after a while and watched the way you worked the room. The whole bar was eating out of the palm of your hand, hanging off you every word. You were undeniably in your element.

And it only went to further Spencer’s belief that the two of you were from completely different worlds.

***

You lit a cigarette and meandered out the back of the bar for some fresh air, which you didn’t miss the irony of. The large rear garden of the 11th Street establishment was about five times the size of the inside, with a stage at one end and even an outside bar.

You leaned up against the nearest wall, the tequila pulsing through your veins and offering you that blissful tipsy sensation. You sucked on the cigarette and observed the goings on around you.

You’d managed to hide yourself in plain sight. No one would ever think to look for you in this little backwoods town. You’d taken all the necessary precautions, didn’t leave a paper trail.

The car parked outside was the fourth you’d stolen on your journey. Take one, drive it for a distance, abandon it and then find another far enough away from the first they wouldn’t be tied together.

You’d picked up this car just outside of Shreveport, Louisiana. You’d broken into a junkyard for this particular vehicle as it was likely they may never notice it was missing. You changed the plates just in case.

The money in the trunk had been procured from your mother’s safe which not even her scumbag second husband knew about. She’d kept the nest egg of cash ever since you were a little girl and only you knew the combination.

“It’s for a rainy day, Y/N. One day I won’t be around anymore and I want to make sure you have everything you could ever need.”

It was as though she’d envisioned something bad happening to her. When she married the second time, he’d convinced her to put all of her savings into a bank account under his name effectively meaning you’d never see a dime.

But he didn’t know about the safe.

You’d taken a bunch of your late mother’s clothes too, brought a few more items with the cash, including the dress you wore now. Only ever cash, couldn’t leave a trail.

Bandera might not have been your first choice of hideout but you couldn’t deny it had its perks, and you were certain no one would ever find you here.

And if they did, you would simply run again.

You took another drag on the cigarette as a tall, dark and handsome stranger headed your way. Although on closer inspection he wasn’t entirely a stranger to you.

The man wore all blue denim, a large eagle on his belt buckle, bolo tie and black stetson. He was smiling at you as he approached.

“Hey there little lady,” he stopped in front of you, hands on his hips. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“You work at Busbees? I think I saw you there yesterday.” You batted your eyelashes at him.

“Oh, you’re the big tipper.” He chuckled. “I never forget a big tipper. Or a pretty face.”

“Elizabeth.” You held out your hand.

“Charmed,” he took your hand, brought it to his lips and kissed your knuckles. “Grant.”

Without warning he plucked your cigarette from your fingers and took a long drag on it. He sucked in the smoke and spoke again as he exhaled it.

“Things’ll kill ya.” He chuckled.

“Live fast, die young.” You shrugged.

“Leave a good lookin’ corpse?” He laughed too, a deep, vibrating sound.

“Certainly appealing.” You agreed.

He took another drag on the cigarette before placing it back between your lips. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip as he did so. It lingered there for a moment or two, while you took your own drag.

Removing it from your mouth, you held it between your fingers as you blew smoke over his head. You leaned further back against the wall, puffing your chest out. He took a step closer to you and you didn’t mind at all.

You caught the scent of a musky cologne as he drew closer.

“I don’t mean to forward ma’am but you are hotter than a firecracker that’s been lit at both ends.” His lip quipped into a smirk.

You shuddered, the hunger in his eyes causing your legs to shake. You inhaled sharply as his hand came to rest on your cheek.

“Imma kiss you now, if that’s okay with you, little lady?”

You whimpered but couldn’t speak, so instead you nodded. Grant chuckled as he leaned in closer. His lips soon crashed against yours, his whole body pinning you to the wall.

You dropped the forgotten cigarette on the floor and wrapped your arms around his neck. He kissed you fiercely, deeply. Your legs trembled at the sensation.

His hand that wasn’t on your face ran up your thigh and you moaned into his lips. And Spencer Reid was the furthest thing from your mind.

***

Spencer finally decided he’d had enough when two old twins who called themselves Boone and Butch invited themselves to sit with him. They proceeded to mock him on everything from his clothes, his hair, his accent, even his ‘city boy good looks’. He’d eventually excused himself to go in search of you.

The bar was small and it only took a few minutes to ascertain you weren’t inside. He pushed his way out the back door and breathed in the fresh air. It took only moments to find you, pressed up against a wall by another body who was kissing you with force.

One hand was on your thigh, beneath your dress and Spencer swore his blood froze in his veins. His brain must have short circuited because normally he wouldn’t have been so bold as to square up to a man of his size, but he found himself marching over and grabbing the large shoulder of the man kissing you and tugging him backwards.

“What the hell are you doing?” Spencer raised his voice, glaring at you and your kiss swollen lips.

You wiped the back of your hand over your mouth, chest heaving.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” You spat. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“Spencer?” The man spoke up, looking between you and him in heavy confusion.

Spencer tensed, slowly turning back to face the man whose lips were equally as puffy as yours. He hadn’t recognised him by the back of his head and now he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“G-Grant?” Spencer croaked.

“You know each other?” You took a step away from the wall. “I didn’t think you had any friends around here?”

“We’re not friends.” Grant spat, folding his muscular arms over his broad chest. “How do you know each other?”

“I asked first.” You cocked your head to the side.

Spencer was unable to speak, paralysed by the unfortunate situation he had found himself in.

“He asked me on a date and stood me up.” Grant hissed.

“Oh…oh.” You looked between both men. “Well this is sufficiently awkward. Looks like we have the same taste in men, Spence.”

Spencer reddened, averting his gaze to the floor and wanting to crawl into a dark crevice somewhere and never come out.

“Are you two…?” Grant frowned at the two of you.

“Friends.” You finished for him. “Isn’t that right, Spencer. We’re just friends. Which is why you had no right to march over here and tear us apart.”

“I really don’t want to be a part of this conversation.” Spencer mumbled to the floor.

“Maybe you should have thought of that before you interfered. Why, Spencer? Why did you interrupt us?” You took a step closer to him.

“Please,” he looked back at you, eyes full of torment. “Please can we not do this here.”

“I ain’t looking to step on any toes, I didn’t realise y’all were-”

“Friends.” You barked, cutting Grant off. “We’re fucking friends.”

Without warning you shoved Spencer backwards by his shoulders, the sudden touch causing him to flinch. But you didn’t notice it because you were already storming away. Spencer huffed out a breath and dared to glance at Grant who was looking at him in something close to pity.

“If I were you,” Grant clapped a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, again causing him to recoil. “I’d go after her.”

“Duly noted.” Spencer groaned. “But can I just say…” he trailed off for a moment to gather his thoughts. “I should have apologised. I really am sorry for standing you up. I got here and I just couldn’t make it inside. I wanted to, I really did. But, uh, I’m honestly terrible at dating and I freaked myself out. I should have apologised, I wish I had. And I’m sorry.”

Grant inhaled sharply through his nose, clearly not expecting that from him. He let his arms fall to his sides and offered Spencer a melancholy smile.

“You hush your mouth, it's water under the bridge.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Listen ‘ere Spencer. There ain’t a pot too crooked that a lid won’t fit, you get me?”

“Not in the slightest.” Spencer shook his head.

Grant chortled deeply, slapping his palm on his knee while Spencer simply stared at him, brows pinched.

“Layman's terms: there’s somebody out there for everyone. Don’t you go thinking there ain’t. Whatever it is you been through, ‘cos you have been through somethin’, don’t write yourself off. Go after your lady.” He patted Spencer’s shoulder again and Spencer winced.

He wanted to argue with Grant but it was completely pointless. Instead he forced a smile and nodded before turning on his heels.

He made it back out the front of the bar without incident and found you kicking around the dirt with the toe of your boot.

“You don’t get to do this.” You spat, arms wrapped around your body like a shield. “If you want me you can have me. If you don’t let me go.”

Spencer shuffled down the front steps, ambling towards you.

“I really wish it were that simple.” He reached you and cupped your jaw in his good hand, leaning in and resting his forehead against yours. “I want you but I can’t give you everything, there’s a huge part of me I just can’t give you. And you deserve the whole world, Y/N. I want you to have it all. But selfishly I don’t want you to have that with another man.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of what I do or do not deserve? Spencer, I didn’t want to kiss that guy. I did it because I wanted a rise out of you. I want you to want me.” You felt tears spring to your eyes.

“Let me be clear here,” he moved his hand to your cheek. “I have wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you. This has nothing to do with that.”

“I’ve never felt like this about someone before.” You confessed. “And I barely know anything about you. I don’t care if you can’t tell me your life story, I don’t even care if you don’t want to have sex with me! I just want…I want someone to care.”

A few tears escaped your eyes and Spencer brushed them away with his thumb. His breath was hot on your face and his forehead was a little sweaty against yours.

“I do care,” he admitted. “Too much considering I barely know you either. I don’t want you making out with other guys. But it’s unfair of me to ask that of you.”

“Spencer?” You whispered.

“Yes, Y/N?” He replied in equally hushed tones.

“Do you have any kind of proclivity towards me making out with you?”

He hissed, his body quaking at the mere thought.

“Right now?” He breathed. “I have an extreme proclivity towards it.”

And then his lips were on yours, chapped and rough just as you remembered. His tongue was quickly plunging into your mouth and he held you so close as though afraid you would disappear.

It grew exceptionally heated in a matter of seconds and you wanted to tear all of his clothes off right there in the middle of the street. He guided you back towards your car without breaking the kiss and soon you felt your back pressing against the side of the vehicle.

When he did end the kiss, his pupils were blown out wide with lust.

Not another word was shared between you. You handed him the keys silently and you both climbed into the car. In the passenger’s seat you had to clamp your thighs together as a heat spread through you.

You hoped that by the time you made it back to the ranch he hadn’t let himself overthink this.

***

He tensed up when he invited you into his lodge, hands shaking as he opened the door and closed it behind him. His nerves were written all over his face.

He slowly moved closer to you, once again cupping your cheek in his hand in such a delicate manner.

“I want to make you feel good.” He whispered as his lips ghosted over your own. “The way you made me feel the other night.”

You whimpered at the thought, desperate for any kind of pleasure he wanted to bestow upon you.

“P-please?” You whined as his hand slipped into your hair.

“I just, uh…you don’t need…I don’t need you to, uh, return the favour? So don’t…” he trailed off, frowning at himself.

Don’t touch me, you heard the underlying words.

“Okay.” You nodded. “If that’s what you want.”

“Thank you. I think I just need to…test my boundaries if that makes sense?” He whispered before pressing his lips against you again.

“Hmm,” you mumbled into his lips. “Boundaries. Sure.”

He led you towards his bedroom blindly, holding out his casted arm so as not to bump into anything. He kicked the door closed behind him before toeing off his boots. You did the same.

He tore his lips away from yours and ran his fingers down the fabric of your dress before stopping at the hem. You nodded, giving him the green light to proceed.

You had to help him remove the garment as he only had the use of one hand. Together you got it over your head before tossing it on the floor.

He made a whining sound between parted lips when he cast his eyes upon your body, clad only in a pair of lace panties.

His jaw clenched and you noticed it. You smiled at him, beckoning him closer with a curl of your finger. You kissed him again and moved your hands to the buttons of his shirt but stopped before you could undo any of them.

You weren’t sure if he meant he didn’t want you touching him at all and you didn’t want to risk this ending before it could begin so you moved your hands away.

Spencer led you backwards again and then laid you gently on the bed. He stood over you for a moment, eyes wandering almost lazily up and down your torso.

Swallowing a lump in his throat to stave off any fears, he started on his own buttons, again not the easiest feat with only one hand. Once undone he dropped the shirt to the floor leaving him in a t-shirt, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to remove that.

The bandage still remained snug against his bicep, peeking out from beneath the sleeve of his tee. His purple cast started at the crook of his arm, only allowing a sliver of left limb to be revealed to you.

He did however pop the button on his jeans and shimmy them down his legs. You noticed a matching bandage on his thigh, you could only hazard a guess it was shielding wounds that were created by his own hand.

You tried not to look too long and let your gaze flick to his tight fitting underwear. There was a slight tenting within, but it was apparent he hadn’t reached full tumescence, maybe not even half.

His cheeks reddened as he noticed your slightly sad gaze on his crotch and he quickly climbed on top of you and stroked your cheek.

“It’s not you.” He insisted, kissing you again. “I swear to you, it isn’t you. It doesn’t always…do as it should.”

You didn’t really know what to say to that so you said nothing, opting to kiss him deeper instead.

He was trying to view it like an experiment without sounding too clinical. He wanted to gauge his boundaries, figure out how far he could push himself without crumbling. And with any luck over time those frontiers might expand to cover more ground.

His hand wandered your body in a vain attempt to recreate the pleasure you’d given him. His fingers brushed across your collarbones a few times before dipping between your breasts, across your sternum.

He palmed the swell of your left breast, fingers swiping out to ghost over your hardened peek. You moaned into his lips, bucking your hips against him at the sensation.

He did it again and elicited much the same reaction before doing the same to your other breast. You hummed into his mouth, writhing beneath him.

His own hips rutted against your leg and he was certainly getting harder. He didn’t let himself focus on his own arousal though, this was all about you.

And who knows, if he managed to take this step he may be able to take others too.

His fingers wisped down your torso, hand splaying out across the planes of your stomach. It travelled left towards your hip and his soft touch caused goosebumps to erupt beneath your flesh.

The fingers brushed over the waistband of your panties, down towards your thigh. He could feel the heat emanating from between your legs and he had to pull back from your lips to let a feral moan escape him.

He let his fingers brush over the fabric of your underwear and you wriggled under him.

“More.” You whined, the same way he had done to you.

He kissed you again as he toyed with them, teasing you in a way that he could tell was driving you wild.

He let his fingers dance between your legs, feeling the soaked material and moaning again. He couldn’t resist any longer, he was desperate to feel you. He also worried if he took too long he might change his mind entirely.

He pushed the fabric aside and dared let his nimble fingers glide between your folds. He bucked against your leg and moaned into your mouth. He was fully erect now, you could feel it as he grinded against you.

His lips had slipped from yours in lieu of sucking on your neck, teeth nibbling against your skin. The friction caused by his stubble tingled and stung in the most intoxicating way.

His fingers brushed back and forth between your legs as though he wanted to collect every tiny drop of your arousal.

You were whimpering, begging him for more without saying the word. And he must have read your mind because suddenly, with no warning, he plunged two fingers inside of you.

You mewled at the welcome intrusion, back arching off of the bed and you swore you felt him smirk against your neck.

His long, nimble digits thrust as deep as he could, until he was completely buried inside of you. He hissed against your neck, unable to remember the last time he’d been inside a woman like this.

You clenched around his fingers, walls fluttering, tight and pulsing. It was such an unfamiliar yet conversant sensation. It caused a pinching in his stomach, a tightening in his chest.

He remained still for several moments, breathing heavily into the crook of your neck, adjusting the overwhelming feeling that flooded his entire body.

It was new yet well remembered; he was both a novice and well versed in his craft.

You wriggled beneath him as he was still for so long you worried he was going to freak himself out. He raised his head from your neck so he could look at you.

His eyes were brimming with emotions, lips curled into the softest smile.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Just a little overwhelmed by how amazing you feel.”

You cupped his chin and brought him closer, placing a chaste kiss to his lips and mumbling, “more, please?”

Spencer sucked in a deep breath and nodded. He curled his fingers inside of you, driving impossibly deeper inside of you and brushing against your cervix.

A wanton moaned travelled from your mouth to Spencer’s and your thighs clamped around his hand.

He withdrew his digits enough so he could plunge back inside of you, gently at first but after a few thrusts he got a little rougher. But judging by the sounds you were making, he was doing something very right.

He continued with this rhythm, curling his fingers each time he pushed back inside of you, and each time he brushed against you, you shuddered beneath him.

He started scissoring his fingers, pushing his fingers against your walls and finding it dizzying how your body bent to his will. He was continuously rutting against you, the friction it caused was delirious.

His lips roamed across your collarbones, travelling further south. When his lips wrapped around your nipple your back arched off of the bed again and you whined.

He sucked your nipple into his mouth, swiping his tongue over the swollen bud. He teased a third finger between your legs and your staggered breaths sounded out in delight.

As he dove three fingers inside your weeping cunt at the same time his teeth grazed your nipple, you howled so loudly you wouldn’t be surprised if it could be heard from the stables.

Spencer smiled to himself around your hardened peak, slightly disbelieving he could make anyone feel this good.

He pumped three fingers into you, once again feeling the way you stretched around him. It was a heady feeling, and caused his cock to leak with precum.

The sounds of your arousal as he continued his thrusts filled the room as well as a string of moans from your lips.

He moved his lips to your neglected nipple and offered it the same treatment as the first.

Your thighs clamped hard around his hand and you could feel your slick coating the inside of your thighs. Spencer was relentless in his ministrations, pitching in and out of you, stretching you and curling his fingers, ensuring to hit your sweet spot over and over again.

He was rocking on top of you, his hardened member grinding against your leg. You could feel the wet patch forming in the front of his boxers and feel your own stomach starting to coil.

You cautiously cupped his jaw, extracting his lips from their venture. When he looked at you his pupils were blown wide, lips swollen.

You drew him by the chin for a kiss. It was messy and sloppy, teeth bumping together as tongues fought to explore each other's mouths.

He could feel you tightening around his fingers, hoping that meant you were as close as he was. He continued to kiss you and plunge deeper, deeper, until you were trembling beneath him.

“C-close…” you stuttered against his lips. “S-so close.”

He moaned at the mere idea of making you come, increasing his speed with his thrusts, desperate to give you the pleasure you’d so easily given him.

All at once the cords holding you both together snapped. With a final shuddering breath as you nibbled Spencer’s bottom lip, your walls tightened around his fingers as you gave over to wave after wave of pleasure.

You moaned his name under your breath as you came undone. The sound of his name on your tongue and the feeling of you coming around his digits pushed him over the edge.

Still rocking against you, he came with a stifled moan, burying his head into the crook of your neck and breathing frantically.

He withdrew his fingers and you whimpered at the loss of contact but you wrapped your arms around him all the same.

Your hearts beat erratically against one another’s while you fought to catch your breaths.

All at once, Spencer came unravelled. With his eyes closed he could see them, hear them.

“Are you…oh my god he’s fucking hard! He’s enjoying this!”

“It’s not…stop it, please? Please? It’s n-normal.”

“He’s enjoying it! Hah!”

“It’s a-adrenaline. It happens when we-we’re excited or scared. S-sexual arousal and fear a-arousal have many of the same bodily f…please stop!”

He’d pushed too far. The boundaries he’d been trying to test were coming crumbling down around him.

He felt like he couldn’t breathe. He felt like he was going to…

Oh fuck.

“Fuck,” he suddenly pushed himself up and rolled off the bed, ignoring the twang in his knee as he got to his feet. “Gonna…fuck I’m so sorry.”

You watched him run to the bathroom through bleary eyes. He slammed the door closed behind himself and seconds later the sound of vomit hitting porcelain filled your ears along with Spencer’s retches.

You slowly pushed yourself up, the post orgasm haze still heavy and you blinked several times.

“Uh,” you croaked. “Are you okay?”

You were met with another horrid gagging sound.

“I’m so sorry.” His shaky voice followed through the door. “This isn’t…it’s not you.”

“Kinda hard to believe that right now.” You stood up on trembling legs and found your dress on the floor before throwing it back on.

“I swear it’s not…I’m so sorry. I pushed too far, I wasn’t ready.” He was sobbing, choking.

You rolled your lip between your teeth as tears welled behind your own eyes.

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have…I should go.” You swallowed.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeated. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Inside the bathroom, hugging the toilet bowl, Spencer heard your footsteps get further away and then he heard the door.

Tears streamed down his face and the wet patch in his boxers made his stomach turn again. He retched once, twice and then narrowly managed to turn his head back over the toilet before he vomited again.

“Are you…oh my god he’s fucking hard! He’s enjoying this!”

“It’s not…stop it, please? Please? It’s n-normal.”

“He’s enjoying it! Hah!”

“It’s a-adrenaline. It happens when we-we’re excited or scared. S-sexual arousal and fear a-arousal have many of the same bodily f…please stop!”

“I’m not whole.” He sobbed into the toilet, emptying his entire stomach contents. “I’m never going to be whole again.”

He wailed, crying until his eyes were sore and he couldn’t see a hand in front of his face. He vomited until there was nothing left to come up.

His whole body shook violently as he drew his legs to his body, ignoring the stickiness in his pants and the pain it caused his knee. He wrapped his good arm around his legs and rested his chin on his knees.

The tears wouldn’t stop, they just kept coming. He snivelled and sobbed loudly and fitfully. His temples started to throb and a near blinding headache came out of nowhere.

His vision grew hazier around the edges before it darkened. He’d been so focused on other variables he didn’t feel the rising anger in his chest.

By the time he realised what was happening, it was too late. And it wasn’t at all a surprise when he awoke covered in blood once again.

@kalulakunundrum @small-and-violent @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

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