#And that he got taken away within the same fucking scene
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dogday...
#im not happy about the fact i suddenly got attached the moment he addressed us as angel#And that he got taken away within the same fucking scene#poppy playtime smiling critters#Poppy playtime#Poppy playtime chapter 3#Dogday#Poppy playtime dogday
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baby, i'm-a want you — (ch 1) "session one"
gif by me
pairing: joel miller/dieter bravo (just this time. main pairing is still javi/joel)
rating: E (18+) mdni
word count: 3.5k
content: swearing, joel and tommy's southern accents being cute af, dieter being a menace, joel being awkward af (but it's cute), cringey porn dialogue, male masturbation (briefly), one (1) handjob, one (1) blowjob (it's messy), lmk if i missed anything!
dividers: @saradika-graphics
beta: @qveerthe0ry (ily ♥)
summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where most of the ppcu boys are gay porn stars~
(read this first ->) prologue | series masterlist
Joel never would have guessed he’d do something like this ten years ago. Hell, not even five years ago. He’s not even totally sure how he got here, if he’s honest with himself.
He just remembers an, admittedly shady, business-looking man coming up to him and shoving a business card in his face. He asked if Joel had ever slept with men before. Joel was taken aback and thought he was coming onto him in a really bizarre way. He had, but that was none of this man’s business as far as he was concerned.
“There’s no pressure, I promise. Here, my website is on the card. If you see what you like, you gimme a call, okay?” The man had winked, grabbed his coffee, and left.
Joel was left sitting in the middle of that coffee shop stunned into silence.
Later that night, sitting in front of the laptop Sarah nearly forced on him, he clumsily typed (using only his index fingers) the name of the website from the business card into the search bar.
Love Bites
The name and the man, Max Phillips according to the card, and his invasive question should’ve told him everything he needed to know, but Joel wasn’t prepared for the absolute onslaught of nudity he was met with.
“Jesus–” Joel mumbled to himself, slamming the laptop closed. Not that that would take it away, but he could hope. He sighed and looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head to himself. “The fuck you get yourself into, Miller?” He grumbled.
Slowly, and with one eye closed, he opened his laptop again. Once he got both eyes on it again, the website wasn’t… too bad. Well, it was still a porn site, but it wasn’t anything he hadn't seen before. He started looking around some more and didn’t bother turning it down. He lived alone now, both girls having moved out within the last year or so. He missed the hell out of them, and frankly, found himself bored more often than not. He and Tommy still owned Miller Contracting, but Joel stuck to the delegating and organizing part now. He had too many knee and back problems to keep up on the actual building part.
His finger rolled over to the “profiles” section of the website. He raised a brow and clicked on the trackpad hesitantly. There were several headshots of the men that made content for the website. He felt his cock twitch in his jeans and cleared his throat awkwardly, exhaling heavily. Well, it… had been a while. What could it hurt, right?
He did have a lot of options…
Dark eyes trailing over the men on the site, he smiled softly. They all had little biographies that explained what their sexualities and preferences were. He snorted a little at seeing two different cowboys; one gay and a little older than himself, the other bisexual and perhaps around the same age. The younger cowboy had a prominent mustache and had a preference for “tying people up”. Bit on the nose in Joel’s opinion, but there was something for everyone. The older cowboy tended toward more amateur-style, “romantic” videos. Joel’s heart softened a little, but decided he wasn’t really in the mood for that sort of thing.
In his search, he found just about everything; a messy haired, self proclaimed “adventurous” sort, a masked man that liked to roleplay, a clean cut looking man that considered himself a “romantic”. You name it, they probably had it. But his eyes landed on a particular man…
He had deep, intense eyes and a thick mustache. His hair was styled like he walked out of the 80s and he was wearing a thin gold chain. He had a bit of a Burt Reynolds thing going on, and normally that wouldn’t be something Joel was into, but this time, well…
Joel clicked on his – Javier’s – page and started browsing the videos he had available. His bio said he was “fluid and polyamorous”, but Joel didn’t know what that meant. Wow, he was… popular. That didn’t surprise Joel at all, but his eyes landed on one of Javier’s “solo” videos. It looked like it was filmed in his apartment, but it probably wasn’t from how well lit it was. The video started off like Joel guessed all of them did; a fancy graphic with the words “Love Bites” in the center of the screen before the sound effect of someone taking a bite out of something, and a faint moan. The tips of Joel’s ears warmed, but he pressed on, watching Javier walk onto screen and sit in the middle of the couch that was in frame.
Javier’s jeans were very tight, but maybe even moreso because of how fucking hard he looked to be. Joel swallowed a lump in his throat, his cock twitching again. Javier had an easy smirk on his handsome face, but he seemed like he didn’t have the cockiness that Joel expected a pornstar to have. The video seemed like it was personally sent to Joel and that thought made Joel’s cock stand to attention almost comically quickly. Unzipping his own jeans, he groaned at the constriction leaving, allowing him to breathe easier. He squeezed his cock and looked back at the video, Javier already getting started without him. He was stroking his own cock slowly, almost teasingly, biting a plump bottom lip. Joel moaned and shut his eyes for a quick second as he took himself in hand–
Ring, ring.
Joel groaned, squeezing his cock harder, and dug his phone out of his pocket. Tommy. He sighed and paused the video on Javier’s blissed out face and big hand wrapped around his–
Ring, ring.
“Christ, Tommy, what is it?” He grumbled, pressing the too-new-for-his-liking phone to his ear.
“Jesus, who pissed in your oatmeal this mornin’?” Tommy’s easy voice filtered in, a chuckle wrapped around his words. “And why are ya outta breath? Ya okay?”
“What–? Yeah, ‘m fine, Tommy. Why y’callin’?”
“Wonderin’ if ya could stop by tonight. Maria’s makin’ meatloaf and I know ya like it.”
Joel did really like Maria’s meatloaf. He sighed to himself and shut his laptop, his cock having softened considerably since hearing his brother’s voice. “Yeah,” he cleared his throat, trying to subtly zip up his jeans while he held the phone against his shoulder. “I’ll come over in a little bit, just gotta… gonna make a phone call.”
“Ooh, ya finally have a date, old man?”
“Can it,” Joel grunted. “‘M forty-three. Ain’t that old. And no, I was gonna call Sarah. See how her classes are goin’.”
“Send her our love, will ya? ‘N tell her she’ll have a cousin soon. Maria’s ‘bout to pop any day. ‘M scared to death,” Tommy sighed. The happiness was clear in his voice, though. Joel was happy for him, and smiled to himself. “How’s Ellie doin’, by the way?”
“Good. Think she said somethin’ ‘bout joinin’ a… roller derby team? Don’t rightly know, but,” he shrugged to himself. “Sounded like somethin’ she’d like, way she was describin’ it.”
Talking on the phone with Tommy always went the same way. He’d find a way to chew up a couple hours of your time, but Joel never minded. Once they said their goodbyes and their I-love-yous, Joel picked up Max Phillips’ business card and sighed, rubbing his thumb over the phone number.
What could it hurt, right?
That was two years ago. He’s been working for Love Bites for two years and had been avoiding Javier Peña as much as he could.
Joel’s never been good at… initiating conversations. Ellie would always give him shit for it. She usually went up to whoever had caught Joel’s eye and slyly made it her goal to get them to come over to him.
But Ellie wasn’t here and she never would be. His girls knew what he did and even if they were a little concerned for him at first, they saw how much happier he’d been since joining. He was healthier, gaining a bit of “chub” as Sarah called it, and a healthier glow to his skin. He was on camera more often now, so he had to eat well and work out a little more. He didn’t do anything too crazy, and the audience that watched his videos had a lot of positive opinions and comments about his physique. It made him blush to think about it for too long, so he tried not to.
What was he saying?
Oh, right. Avoiding Javier Peña.
He’d had a huge crush on him ever since that first video he watched, and frankly, didn’t want to make a fool of himself if he talked to him. He’s filmed one video with him and it was the best Joel had felt in years. He almost came too quickly, and the video was supposed to be twenty minutes long. They had to pause so Joel could calm himself down, but Javier was patient and lovely with him. Javier had been doing this a lot longer than Joel had, so he wasn’t worried, which made Joel feel better. Just a little embarrassed. Afterwards, he had to leave, making up a story about seeing his girls for dinner that night.
“Javi!”
Joel’s eyes snapped up from his phone. He was in the middle of texting Sarah, saying that he’d call her when he got home from work. He had a scene with Dieter today.
And there he was. God. Joel’s cheeks flushed at the sight of Javier standing in the hall in his robe. He must’ve just finished his scene with Shane, the new kid. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the sound of Javier’s deep, commanding voice was enough to send a chill down Joel’s spine. Before he knew it, Javier was talking animatedly with Steve, another actor, as they walked off down the hall and disappearing around a corner.
He knew, realistically, relationships between porn actors could happen. Silva and Jake had been together for years. Joel’s problem with that was, well… Joel. His last real relationship was with Sarah’s mom years ago, and when the girls were in high school he had a relationship with this guy, Ezra for a while.
Smack!
“Jesus–!” Joel jumped, holding onto one of his ass cheeks protectively. Only one person would have done that.
“Hey, handsome,” Dieter grinned, sticking a hand down the back pocket of Joel’s jeans and squeezing. “Getting lost in Javi’s eyes again?” He winked.
“N-no! I am not,” Joel grumbled, finishing off his text and shoving his phone in his pocket.
Dieter snorted and rolled his eyes, then removed his hand to hold it out for Joel to take. “C’mon, big guy. You get to cum on my face today,” he smirked.
Filming with Dieter always felt good. He was a bit wild for Joel’s personal tastes, but he always made sure Joel was comfortable, and today was no different.
Joel was playing a “plumber” that needed to work on Dieter’s “pipes”. This of course led to Dieter offering to “pay” in his own way.
“Oh, come on, big guy like you doesn’t need money, right?” Dieter recited his lines expertly, running a hand down Joel’s t-shirt covered chest. “Bet it gets lonely doing this sort of work, huh?”
Joel had gotten a lot better at the acting part of things over the past couple of years. He was super stiff (and not in the right way) in the beginning, but now, he easily plastered on a smirk, eyes glued to Dieter’s lips. “Sometimes,” he shrugged, a big hand hovering over Dieter’s shoulder. Dieter saw the hand out of the corner of his eye and grinned, curling his fingers around Joel’s thick wrist and moving it down to his ass.
Joel smirked, squeezing the plump flesh appreciatively. “Bit forward o’ you,” he rumbled.
Dieter visibly shivered and bit his lip. “Sexy guy like you, of course I am,” he breathed. He leaned forward and kissed Joel messily, the hand on Joel’s torso moving down to unzip his jeans. Joel was already painfully hard and grunted into Dieter’s mouth when his pants were opened and lowered enough to pull his cock free. Dieter moaned and curled his fingers around Joel’s shaft, pumping rhythmically.
They stayed like that for a while; open mouth kisses, heavy breathing from Joel, and Dieter’s moans being picked up by the mics.
Dieter pulled away to look down at the thick cock in his hand and bit his lip at the sight. “Fuck,” he groaned, his own cock twitching in his sweats. “Can I suck your cock?” He looked up at Joel demurely, eyes big and nearly black with desire.
Joel forgot he was supposed to be acting for a minute and grunted, hips bucking into Dieter’s grasp. “F-fuck, yeah,” he nodded, eyes glazed over. Dieter smiled and guided Joel over to the couch on the set. Technically, Dieter was supposed to get on his knees in the “kitchen”, but he knew Joel wouldn’t be able to stand for that long with his back problems. Sometimes Dieter’s improv classes came in handy. Max couldn’t complain too much, as long as Dieter sucked Joel off, then the video was still following the script.
Joel grunted as he sat, hard cock swaying slightly. Dieter giggled a little and happily got down on his knees, hands traveling up and down Joel’s thighs appreciatively. “Such a pretty cock,” he hummed, licking his lips as he watched it twitch in front of him, a drop of pre-cum gathering at the tip.
“Why dontcha put that mouth to use, then?” Joel smirked, gripping the base and tapping the head against Dieter’s cheek. “Want your discount, right?”
Dieter smiled and opened his mouth wide, eyes shut in pure bliss. Joel gripped Dieter’s messy curls and held him still as he hit the head of his cock against Dieter’s tongue. Dieter moaned and opened his eyes, watching Joel’s face for any cues to stop. They never came, but it was something they all had to keep an eye on. When everything seemed to be going well, he happily wrapped his mouth around the head of Joel’s cock and started bobbing his head up and down.
He moaned, the vibrations traveling down Joel’s cock and up his spine, making Joel groan in return. “Mmm, knew you’d be good with your mouth,” he grinned, holding the back of Dieter’s head to set a pace Joel liked better.
Dieter heard a cameraman move to his right to get a better angle of his mouth, so he amped it up a little. He got messier, saliva dripping down along the sides of Joel’s shaft. Joel moaned weakly, resting his head on the back of the couch, but keeping one of his hands tangled in Dieter’s messy curls. Dieter started bobbing his head slower, eyes locked on Joel’s face as he moved further down his shaft, taking as much as he could down his throat. He choked slightly and pulled off, pre-cum and saliva covering his mouth and Joel’s cock. He smiled up at Joel and panted heavily, curling his fingers around the base to pump the thick cock.
Joel’s eyes rolled back and he grunted, hips bucking off the couch. “C’mere,” he breathed, heavy work boots landing heavily on the set floor as he stood. “Gonna fuck your face.”
Dieter shivered at the low timbre of Joel’s voice and nodded happily up at him. He pulled his sweats down and gripped his own cock in hand and started stroking himself rhythmically. Dieter opened his mouth for Joel obediently and nearly choked again when Joel shoved his cock down Dieter’s throat. He moaned weakly when Joel’s hips started moving, his heavy balls slapping against Dieter’s chin.
Dieter just had to take it, the lewd sounds of Joel fucking his face filling the otherwise quiet room. He fucking loved it because Joel was subtly massaging Dieter’s scalp and it sent shivers down his spine. His fist was almost a blur over his own cock and tears leaked out of his eyes, a blush high on his cheeks.
“Mmm, bein’ such a good boy f’me,” Joel grunted, biting his lip to rein it in a little. Dieter moaned at the praise, eyebrows downturned in pleasure. “Yeah? Like bein’ my good boy?”
Dieter whined and nodded as best he could, eyes completely glazed over. Joel slowed down his hips a little and let Dieter breathe for a minute. Dieter panted hard, a near-dopey smile on his face. “Come on my face,” he breathed heavily, extending his tongue for Joel. “Please.”
It was Joel’s turn to shiver as he slapped the head of his cock against Dieter’s face again. “Gonna have to earn it,” Joel smirked, reciting his lines as well as he could.
Dieter whined and pouted up at him, his own hand slowing down a little. He didn’t say anything, letting Joel continue.
“Make me come, and I’ll paint this pretty face o’ yours.”
Dieter’s face lit up and he curled his fingers around Joel’s shaft. He watched Joel’s face while he wrapped his lips around the head and bobbed his head. His free hand held Joel’s hip and subtly moved to his ass and squeezed. He moaned around Joel’s cock and shut his eyes briefly before obediently looking up at him, big eyes wet and innocent.
“Atta boy,” Joel grunted, cupping Dieter’s face lovingly. Dieter removed his mouth to kiss down his length as he stroked him, attaching his lips to one of Joel’s balls. “Mmm, fuck,” Joel breathed, tipping his head back.
The hand on Joel’s ass moved slightly until one of Dieter’s fingertips prodded at Joel’s asshole. Joel grunted in surprise and smiled down at Dieter. “Really want me all over ya, huh?”
“Yes,” Dieter nodded, sucking one of Joel’s balls into his mouth. “Please.”
“Keep talkin’ like that and– ooh, fuck – Jus’ might get your wish,” Joel panted, shutting his eyes. He felt the build up in his lower stomach, his cock twitching violently in Dieter’s hand. “C’mere, baby boy,” he grinned, taking his cock back to stroke himself over Dieter’s face.
Dieter was buzzing, lifting Joel’s t-shirt to lovingly caress his hairy tummy, mouth open wide and obedient.
Joel felt his balls draw up and his hips buck until– “Fuck–! Shit,” He moaned, thick ropes of come spurting out from the tip of his cock and landing on Dieter’s face and mouth. He caressed Dieter’s hair, thick fingers massaging his scalp while the other hand stroked himself until his balls were completely empty.
Dieter happily licked his mouth clean, and hid his face in Joel’s stomach, whimpering into the sweaty skin. He moaned weakly, his entire body trembling as he came, completely untouched. Dieter was the only one in the cast that could do that, and he loved showing it off as much as he could.
“Shit,” Joel smiled, petting Dieter’s sweaty curls back and out of his face. “Ain’t you a sight.”
“Cut!”
Dieter deflated, a huge grin on his face. He started giggling into Joel’s stomach and smiled up at him. “Fucking love your cock, Joel,” he hummed happily.
“That’s what you always say,” Joel snorted, helping him up onto his feet. Dieter was a little wobbly still and cuddled into Joel’s side. He always got a little clingy after a scene, but Joel didn’t mind. As different as they were, Joel would probably consider Dieter one of his closest friends. It always worked in their favor, their natural chemistry and closeness coming through the cameras.
They were handed a couple towels and some water, the both of them taking them gratefully. Max came up to them, his usual shit-eating grin on his face. Joel always thought Max reminded him of a vampire, with that mischievous glint in his eye that always seemed to be there.
“Great show, boys,” Max started. “Dieter, d’you mind if I steal Joel away for a second?”
Dieter whined and clinged onto Joel tighter. Joel grinned and hugged him back. “Sorry, boss, looks like he ain’t leavin’ anytime soon.”
Max rolled his eyes, but continued anyway. “Fine. Meant to tell you earlier, but things got rolling, you know how it is–”
“What is it, Max?”
“You’ve got a scene with Javier tomorrow.”
If there were a record player anywhere, Joel would probably hear it scratching right about now. Dieter paused too, and looked up at Joel with worried eyes. He knew all about Joel’s crush, and was always telling Joel to just go for it. Joel froze briefly, but tried to school his emotions as best he could.
“O-okay, um. What time?” He asked shakily, gripping Dieter’s fluffy robe tighter.
“I’m thinking around noon? That way Javier can prepare, y’know?”
Preparing was always done before a particularly intense scene. Joel tried really hard not to think about Javier wearing a plug for a while before coming to set.
“Right,” Joel nodded, cheeks going a little pink. “I’ll be there.”
“You’re the best, Joel!” Max snapped his fingers and walked off, talking to a couple of assistants.
Dieter tapped on his chest and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You really gotta say something, Joel,” he said softly.
Joel sighed and nodded. He knew that.
He just didn’t know what.
#joel miller#dieter bravo#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller series#dieter bravo fanfiction#dieter bravo fic#dieter bravo smut#dieter bravo series#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal cinematic universe#ppcu fanfiction#oaksfics
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So. I DID watch Hazbin Hotel. And oh boy. So I'm going to give my critique on the show.
"antagonists and supporting" Characters- A bit better than Helluva. Studio oversight curbed some stuff. The characters somewhat had their own personalities in their dialogue. Some characters I thought could be cut out. I'm sorry but Sir Pentious is one of them. He's too cartoony even for this universe. He's annoying on the level jar jar binx was in star wars. Same with Mimzy. I think they could've done much better with Adam, but they just made him a dude bro? I did like the Seraphim sisters. Lute was just a bitchy, cynical, anime antagonist. Nifty was a bit aggravating too on the same level as Sir Pentious. I liked Husk as a character. Lucifer being a crushed dreamer fallen angel was actually interesting however his take on his people that he rules? Now if he was actively choosing to punish them himself using hells tools, it would be one thing? But he just has depression??? I guess? After thousands of years? Instead of trying to reconnect with his daughter, he just Mopes??? Like a sad boy??? No. Sorry. You lost me. Cherry Bomb? Meh. She's pretty shallowly written.
Now!
Main Characters -
Charlie- I hate her. I hate how fucking useless she is. She's the main protagonist for fucks sake. Now if she started like this and actually got better as the story went along in season 1, then alright. But she just gets her ass kicked and daddy has to save her skin. Way to take away her independence as a character.
Vaggie- I like Vaggies premise, but I hate the way her arc is executed. And the fact that she lets Lute live??? I'm sorry? WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?! No way. No how. Someone like her from a military background, or hells backdrop would let someone as callous as Lute live.
Alastor - he's my favorite character but, it's not his show. And it feels like it is. I love Alastor, he's the only entertainment I get from this show for the most part.
Angel - he's a characature. He is a walking stereotype. I know many people like him including the hypersexuality. Angel dust unless written for plot specific purposes only, is a very selfish unredeemable person. I'm sorry. He's being raped, and he still sexually harasses other people, knowing how it makes him feel? Now this would be great if we weren't supposed to feel bad for him right away, because it would show how abused can become abusers even if they don't mean too. And that could've been part of his arc to becoming a better person. But no.
The Vs - I like Vox. He's written to be genuinely manipulative, charismatic, and intimidating. I like Velvet too. I wish we knew anything about her. Valentino is written to be a villain, but some of his more childish moments are a bit of a movie mood killer.
On to the show as a whole.
So the most hated part of HH. Episode 4s infamous sexual assault scene. - I actually think it was very raw. It was done in an artistic taste. And I DEFINITELY think that if it wasn't taken from a SA fetishizer, it would've sat with me better. I understand what they were portraying and as someone who's had friends, gay men from the aids crisis era who have been SA, I see it but it's not done well. The only instance it's done well is when Angel is shown in the studio with Valentino especially when he tells Charlie to leave.
The build up and pay off issue - the music for the most part was good. OUT OF CONTEXT. I. Context it pays off without building up the conflict. It just resolves immediately. And these aren't Saturday morning cartoon conflicts. These are deep seeded emotional traumas between people. They don't resolve within one episode. These types of conflicts should resolve in 3 part episodes to 1 season. Yet again the Helluva problem shows up. Setting up too many character arcs and plotlines that cannot be properly resolved in the time span.
The finally- it was. Hot. Garbage. What the fuck was Charlie wearing to fight???? What the fuck???? Seriously???? And Angel???? In his booty shorts??? And we're supposed to take the extermination seriously??? HA! No. I do like in the episodes leading up to the finally, where Charlie and Emily rise against Heaven. I think they should have kept going with that moment in the song "If hell is forever, then Heaven must be a lie". It was very powerful and undermined immediately with "the big reveal!" Yuck. And don't even get me started on how NIFTY is the one who killed ADAM! SERIOUSLY? I think it was actually cool to see Alastor get HIS shit kicked in and see him crack under the pressure for once. I DO NOT like how Charlie's daddy had to come and fight her battles especially seeling as how he could do it the whole fucking time for thousands of years????!
#helluva critical#helluva criticism#helluva critique#helluva rewrite#hazbin hotel critical#hazbin hotel criticism#anti hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel critique#anti spindlehorse#anti helluva boss#anti vivziepop
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Pairing: dbf!Joel x f!reader
Summary: your waitressing job has been going good so far and Joel’s finally warming up to you. Halloween being celebrated at White Pony has to you excited for all the customers you can serve…but what does Joel do when one doesn’t treat you how you should be treated?
Content Warnings: eventual smut bc enemies to lovers okay we’re getting there! 18+ mdni!, mean!joel, drinking, no outbreak!au,reader smokes, Joel smokes, Joel’s bitch ass girlfriend, slut shaming (we don’t like Michelle) groaping, fighting, mentions of wounds and blood, reader has daddy issuessss, Joel finally being NICE (will update as we progress)
Word Count: 4.3K
A/N: This shit is starting to warm up and I am biting my fingers for the barbecue scene okay!!! Will they kith? Maybe. If you can spot all my silly references in here, kiss kiss to you pookie.
Within the last two weeks of training at White Pony to be a waitress and being with Michelle almost every night, you had to see more and more of Joel. The first few days he refused to come in the bar like he always did before you got the job. It was his- as he put it, “place to be away from you.” Nice.
Michelle was still just as scary as the day you met her. She kept Joel close in her eyesight when you first came to training but as the days passed and she watched you two hardly say any words to each other, she loosened the leash on him again. Since your blow up with him, things were still kind of weird in the way that all you said to each other was, “You done with that?” and “Another round.”
Tonight you were celebrating Halloween down at the bar and Michelle told you all to come dressed as something, no shift unless you actually try with your outfit. It should’ve been no surprise to her that you'd show up as a blood sucking vampire and not just a regular old boring vampire. The black corset dress with the stockings and glitter everywhere had Michelle’s mouth dropping with shock. “Darlin’ when I said dress up I didn’t mean that dressed up.” Her fake witch nose was kind of crooked with the way she glued it to her face but it suited her. The passive aggressiveness she gave you was really starting to work your nerves but the tips were good here, you could easily talk shit about her attitude later while counting all your bills.
You smooth down your dress and give a twirl, showing off your boots that you just got in the mail. You’ve already heard from Joel how many packages get delivered daily and that “the mail truck parks too long in front of his driveway” yada yada yada. He whined the same spiel every time you almost had it down word for word.
Joel’s eyes meet yours as he leans back in the stool and he begins turning slowly while his eyes scan your outfit briefly. A sly smirk forms on his lips, “So just how much garlic should I put around me to keep you away?” His glass meets his mouth, taking a small sip of his whiskey. Your plastic tray falls at your side as your shoulders drop, your eyes low with annoyance.
“Yeah? You feel proud of that one old man?” you mock, leaning against the bar until all your drinks are done being made. The glasses start to pile up, ready to be taken to the corner of girlfriends celebrating the night all dressed up as different colored crayons.
Your fingers delicately place each glass on the plastic tray and Joel gives a breathy laugh. “I’m proud of that, yeah.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, cowboy. You're not my type to even sink my teeth into.” The firm tone takes him by surprise and his eyes flicker over your body once more before scoffing.
“I’m everyone’s type, thank you very much. I’ll take another whiskey too, ma’am.” The devilish grin appears once more which only makes your eyes roll.
“You aren’t even in my section Joel. Fuck off, get your lady to do it.” You shoot back, the annoyance not shying away from your face at all. Joel nods slowly and turns away from you, finally laying off just long enough to let you get back to your job. Michelle watches you closely as she overhears you telling Joel to fuck off, her stern look burning imaginary holes into you.
When she busted you for talking like that to Joel, it was just best not to even look at her, this not being the first time she’s caught you with your sailors mouth in full effect.
With the night flying by from a packed bar, the tips were coming in well. Everyone was dressed up as something, leave it to Joel to dress up as…himself.
“Let me know if you need anything else!” You shout over the music to your newest table and give everyone a smile before retreating to the bar. With Joel and Michelle in the corner canoodling at the end of the counter, you couldn’t help but throw up in your mouth a little. Her costume wasn’t going to last much longer, the evidence of a missing nose so apparent. Her costume was falling off her shoulders constantly, it was a bulky old witch dress and it looked ancient.
Your hands run along the bar and pat it eagerly like an impatient puppy just ready for another table and more money.
Suddenly a group of men walk in and the bar gets a tad quieter. The dress shirts they have on are so tight you can see the tank top underneath the fabric. Something about them just stuck out like a sore thumb in the best way possible and you wanted to be the one to serve them.
“Nell, how do I look? I’m gonna take that table and get the best tips for us all tonight.” You giggle and fix your hair while the bartender tells you how good you look. Joel must’ve sensed someone having fun because the next thing you know, an arm was grabbing you and walking you towards the back of the bar away from all the bustle and crowd.
“Ow Joel, get off me. What are you doing?” You shout, grabbing your arm from his grasp and groan while rubbing the tender skin.
“No, you aren’t taking them. They’re out of town assholes that sometimes stop in and it’s nothin’ but issues every time. Let Danny take ‘em.” He almost sounded concerned but the look in his eyes didn’t last long before he looked away.
You stomped your foot softly and groaned, folding your arms across your chest. “Danny doesn’t even pool his tips at the end of the night like he’s supposed to! I can handle it Joel, I’ll call you if I need you to reenact Road house, okay?” You snicker at your reference and walk away before he could argue more, your tray innocently behind you as you walk up to the full table of intimidating men.
Joel was seething in the corner, his tongue running over his teeth against his closed lips while he watched one already get handsy and try to cop a feel under your dress. Joel Miller was not jealous. He was worried for your safety and you were known to get yourself into some crazy things due to miscalculation on your part of common sense. He was almost too aware of how chaotic you could be at times but at this moment it wasn’t a joke to him. He sat back in his chair and turned it so you were in his view the entire conversation. The glasses of whiskey turned to glasses of water so he could be clear minded if things got sticky. You walked back over and he pretended not to overhear your conversation with Nell about the men fawning over you.
Joel rolls his eyes and drinks his water, the annoyance you even entertained those assholes after he told you not to, just sitting deep inside his chest. Your small tray was packed with beers and shots of your top shelf vodka and his eyes widened, already knowing how tonight was going to play out. He sighed, smacking his hand on the bar before getting up to change the song on the jukebox. Searching for what felt like forever, he finally landed on one of his old favorites.
Porn star Dancing by My Darkest Days & Zakk Wylde.
You stupidly sit on one of their laps and try to engage in the conversation but it always turns back to you. Hours go by of the conversation being about you and not in the best way. They’re asking what time you get off, where you got your sexy little outfit, what color were your panties, shit you shouldn’t be asking your waitress. A hand reaches to your neck and squeezes, making your skin crawl inside. They all smell of menthol and nicotine mixed with gray goose, too much liquid courage.
Joel grabs Michelle and starts dancing with her in the corner, her back to you at the table the entire time. He keeps his eyes locked onto you, very very closely. Even when you extend an arm to grab an empty bottle out of the way his eyes are following. They kept tugging you to sit back down, making his blood boil and his teeth clenched tightly. Somehow you managed to slip away for just a moment and make your way to the bathroom, darting around the corner into the pitch black hallway that was sheltered from noise. Joel lets go of Michelle and follows you without any sound, trying not to startle you.
He stands against the wall and listens to your sobs muffled behind the bathroom door. The tears were pure fear and regret. Maybe, just maybe, Joel had a point. Even if you wanted to close their tab and stop serving them it would just make things so much worse for everyone. You got yourself into this mess, now it was up to you to get yourself out of it. You grab a small piece of toilet paper and blot away your tears, the post cry makeup making you look even better than before. Such a silly way of looking at the situation but you couldn’t deny a good cry moment.
A chill ran down your spine as you faced Joel outside of the bathroom, his head hanging to hear better. When the door squeaks open, his head snaps up and his eyes are on yours. With his strong gaze not leaving yours, you clear your throat and shrug like you know nothing.
“W-why are you outside the ladies bathroom?” You knew why he was out here, he probably saw you run in here and wanted to report back to Michelle, or even worse, tell you, “I told you so..” blah blah.
“Are you okay?” His hand rubs his neck as he stands up straight, moving closer to you. He reaches out and grumbles as he wipes away a tear. “Can jus’ ask Danny to finish out the table, s’okay if you change your mind.” Your glossy eyes look up at him and you smile, shaking your head no.
“Can’t. I got this Joel, I just need to get through it and I’m done for the night.” Your hands wrap around your arms, shivering under the A/C vent. Joel’s shoulders drop in frustration and he sighs loudly.
“Darlin’...” he starts, “don’t do this. Look I’ll tip you whatever they were even thinking about and more jus’ don’t do this to yourself.” His soft words were actually making you reconsider but then again, what did he care? You snap out of it and sniffle, shaking off the sadness.
“I’ve got it Joel, promise.” A fake smile passes from your lips and he doesn’t take the bait at all. You both walk down the hall to find the table empty of bodies and three dollars squashed under a shot glass with vodka dripping down the side. Three. Dollars. You embarrassingly grab the money and look around confused as to what you could’ve done to deserve a three dollar tip. “God damnit..” you mutter under your breath. The glass clanks together as you begin to clean off the table, not wanting anyone to see this mortifying crime scene any more than they have to.
Joel’s frame catches in the corner of your eye, his mouth covered by his hand. When you stop cleaning to look at him, he stares right into you and for a split second it doesn’t look like Joel at all. He gets up, snatching the three dollars from your hand and you knew something bad was going to happen. Joel shoves the exit door wide open and smacks the siding of the building. As he marches outside, he sees the fancy car still sitting in the parking lot, the men outside around it cracking jokes and being rowdy.
“Joel…” You call out and immediately run after him, small struts because of your boots. “Joel sto-”
“S’cuse me fellas. Three dollar tip, really?” Joel chuckles and puts a hand on his hip, the look on his face hard as stone. Here we fucking go, you thought to yourself. Everyone from inside gathers outside and you slowly make your way to Joel, his hand flying in your direction motioning you to stop in your tracks.
“What’d you say, dickhead?” One of the men called out, his words semi slurred. His friends laugh and Joel sarcastically laughs before standing up straight.
“See, I don’t know where y’all are from but around here we tip our waitresses real nice. Three dollars? Cmon man.” He was maybe thinking they “forgot” to put down a ten dollar bill or something, no way they meant three dollars.
“Man she was worth three dollars but she can come home with me if she wants for the rest of the tip, know what I mean?” The assholes behind him hoot and holler, clapping their hands together and praising the man for the disgusting comeback.
“Joel stop cmon just drop it it’s fine let’s just go back inside.” You firmly shout, voice cracking from humiliation. Joel turns to look at you and pushes his hand down telling you to calm down. As his boots drag against the gravel making his way to the group of skeezy men, he tuts loudly at them.
“Do I have to teach you a thing or two about manners, asshole? She’s not a fuckin’ fast food burger that you get for three dollars. She’s worth way more than that. You basically groaped her all night, askin’ what color her panties are, when she’s leavin’, how badly does she want your money, but I don’t have to tell you any of that. You know exactly what you’ve been sayin’ to her all while she’s jus’ doin’ her job. So let me ask you this, you do plan on tipping her correctly, yes?” Joel stopped just as he was toe to toe with the man, not a smirk to be found anywhere except on Joel.
“Ye-yeah man um, let me get my wallet.” He hastily reaches into his pocket while he stutters apology after apology to Joel. Just as he’s pulling his hand out, he balls it into a fist all wound back to hit Joel. Never once did it connect with his cheek, never.
Joel grabs the skeeze’s wrist and twists it roughly before throwing him on the ground, his buddies getting up contemplating if they really wanted to do this or not. Joel gets on top of him, throwing punches left and right, grunting with every connection his fist has with skin. Blood trickles down his hand between his fingers and he doesn’t stop until the guy is begging for mercy.
Wiping his nose and breathing in deeply, Joel gets up and grabs the wallet that was supposed to be taken out before all this started. His bloody fingers split it open and find a bunch of cash, flicking through all the bills.
“How much was their bill, darlin’?”
Everyone's eyes were on you and the chattering started to fill your ears.
You clear your throat roughly and walk closer to Joel by just a few steps, not wanting to get too close.
“Uh…I don’t remember. It was around 213 dollars I believe…lots of gray goose shots.” Your eyes went wide when he pulled out two 100 dollar bills and folded them, passing it to you between his index and middle finger. You take it apprehensively, staring at the grunting man rolling around on the ground. Joel nods at you a little and asks if you’re okay. Just as your lips part to tell him thank you, someone is running up on him.
“Joel watch out!” You shout and he pushes you back so much you fall on the ground. A fist hitting him right in the face, “You fuckin’ prick! Wanna piece of me old man?!” The other guy shouts at Joel and hits him, starting to wrestle him on the ground. They roll around causing the gravel dust to stir up and you think quickly on your feet. Going behind the guy trying to wrestle Joel to be on top, you kick him right in the balls with your boots. “Get off of him!” You shriek and grab his hair, tossing him backwards. The audible winces and groans from the crowd echo off the buildings, Joel sits up and looks at you like you were some angel or something.
Reaching out your hand for a lift, you take deep breaths and help him up off his ass.
“How was that for your reenactment? You okay?” He asks as he begins to brush the gravel off his palms. The men were on the ground rolling in pain still, such a funny thing to watch.
Chuckling softly, you turn back to Joel,”Yeah I’m okay. You okay?” You nudge his arm and see his knuckles still dripping blood. A small nod comes from him and you grab his hand slowly to observe the wounds.
“Should get some ice on that Mr.Miller.” The glimmer in his eye takes you and draws you in, standing there holding onto his hand for far too long. Everyone behind you cleared out and went inside, leaving Michelle there alone. She clears her throat and you snap back to earth and drop Joel's hand rather fast.
“Take her home Joel. She’s done.”
“What?!” You shout in complete surprise.
“Mich come on baby I don’t think that’s very fa-” Joel’s reasoning is cut off by a groan from Michelle.
“No! I can’t have a floozy willing to do whatever for tips work here and expect my boyfriend to protect her! You’re done!” She was expressive with her hands just like your mother used to be, which was exactly how you were feeling. A little girl once more and your mom was beyond done with you.
Your tongue pushes against your cheek and you go inside to get your coat and purse. Nell was the only bartender who didn’t treat you like a monster and she started to get pissed off when you told her the news. Joel and Michelle were outside arguing and you stood by the door eavesdropping, careful they couldn’t see you.
“You’ve never once defended me from a creep like that!”
“Oh Michelle, is that what this is about? Really?”
“No, of course not Joel! You know damn well she knew what she was doing dressed like that coming to work and getting on their laps the way she did! What else did she expect from them?!” Her hands were flying up in the air as Joel’s head dropped, shaking side to side.
“Michelle she’s just barely started her life, what did you want me to do, hm? Watch them take advantage of her?!” His arms reached out, searching for something that wasn’t there.
“No but what do you think is gonna happen when she walks around here acting like a slut?!”
As your fast breaths started to fog the glass awaiting Joel’s response or even some sliver of defense, nothing. He said nothing.
Joel knew that wasn’t true. He watched your driveway like a hawk regardless how many times he said he didn't. Tommy was the first and last person you’ve been with since you moved back but that was none of Michelle's business even if you wanted to get with everybody.The door flew open and you walked to your car, getting in the passenger side. All you wanted to do was cry yourself to sleep, Joel could drive. More muffled sentences rang outside the car, something about Joel calling her tomorrow. You felt pretty buzzed after that encounter until overhearing that fuck ass conversation. That was probably the first time anyone has cared so much about your safety, your well-being, you in general. No one has ever willingly stuck up for you like that and beat someone the way Joel did. Not even your own dad has done that or would ever. You must’ve been replaying in your head the images of Joel beating that man so much because all at once you came back to the now, his fingers snapping in front of your face.
“Cmon, we’re home. You’ve got a cut on your knee sweetheart. Let’s go clean it.” He fumbles with your house keys and unlocks the front door, making his way into your house.
“Jus’ sit, I’ll be back. Where’s the bathroom?” Shutting the front door, you point to the left and sit slowly to observe the cut.
It was definitely something. The nylon stocking was tattered and covered with dry blood caked onto the broken skin. Joel arrives with the rubbing alcohol sloshing in the bottle along with a washcloth.
“I didn’t mean to push you down so hard, m’sorry.” Joel kneels down in front of you and rests your foot against his thigh so he can examine how bad it was. Those beautiful brown eyes were getting you again. It didn’t seem so far-fetched to forget everything, even the conversation you overheard, until he pressed the alcohol to your skin. Sucking in a sharp breath, you grab the armrest of the couch and whimper quietly at the contact.
“Ow..Joel that-ah-ooh-that hurts.” You suck in sharply again, his eyes going back to your cut.
“I know baby, I know..I’m sorry, jus’ hold on f’me.” He whispers as he rips the material of your tights until a large hole is created around the scrape. His rough hands covered in blood were so gentle on your leg, his fingers wrapping around the back of your boot covered calf.
“You should really let me bandage up your hand, can at least do that much for you.” The room went silent and all that was heard was Joel’s deep breaths and the washcloth pressing against you. He sighs and grabs a bandaid from where he set it down on the couch cushion, opening it to cover the wound.
With a firm press on the edges, his thumbs smooth over the entire bandaid and he glances up at you hoping you weren’t wincing in pain.
After a long pause he mutters, “I’ll be fine, just need some ice is all. Also um…darlin’..” he started and continues to ever so slightly rub the bandaid.
“I know you overheard ‘Chelle and I talkin and I just wanted to apologize on her behalf. She doesn’t think those things about you and neither do I, okay?” He didn’t sound too sure that he even believed the words coming from his mouth.
You were too emotional to argue with him so a small nod was all you responded with.
It was a bullshit apology and it didn’t even need to come from him but there was too much in your head right now, an apology was the last thing you were concerned about.
Without a word you get up slowly and step onto the front porch with a new pack of cigarettes in your palm. Joel hesitated following but he wasn’t done with you just yet. The front door squeaks open softly and before even turning around you had the cigarette held out for him to take a few drags from.
“Are you uh..are you goin’ to your dad’s barbecue this weekend?” The smoke rolled out of his mouth and he ashes over the railing.
“I’ve thought about it..” You take a puff and pause. “What would I even say? ‘Hey dad uh I know I just got my job here but I got fired because I was dressed like a slut.’ Mmm, I don’t know, Joel.” All the smoke exited your lungs by the time you were finished talking and the glowing orange light was lifted again as your cheeks hollowed taking another hit.
Joel turns to you slightly, holding out his hand with his fingers spread and ready to take your cigarette.
“Jus’ don’t tell him anything. He couldn’t even wish you luck or congratulate you for gettin’ the damn job anyway. Asshole.” His face disappears behind a cloud of smoke and it was probably for the best due to the shit eating grin on your face while his words echoed in your head.
“So you’re finally getting it I see, Mr. Miller.” The cigarette slowly dwindles and he lets you have the last drag.
“I can’t see why he’d ever treat you like that, I wouldn’t dream of treating you that badly and you really know how to work my fuckin’ nerves sometimes, little girl.”
The pair of you laugh and Joel flicks the cigarette butt on the driveway, shoving his non fucked up hand in his pocket. The dim porchlight hardly illuminated his face but the moon on the other side made up for what you couldn’t see.
“Get some sleep, you’ve got job hunting to do tomorrow.” His boots clunked against the wooden floorboards of the steps, gravel crunching as he got further across the way to his sidewalk.
“Oh, one more thing sweetheart!” He shouts from his porch.
“I’ll back you up no matter what. He doesn’t know you anymore, not like I do.”
Your face was hot to the touch from his words. Joel Miller finally finding his heart? Who knew he had one? Each of your front doors closed and you went to sleep that night just imagining how the barbeque is going to go. Joel fell asleep that night with a bag of frozen peas on his knuckles and a small grin on his face.
#joel miller imagine#joel miller angst#joel miller#Joel miller eventual smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel tlou#joel x reader#joel the last of us#daddy joel#dbf!joel miller#dbf joel miller x f reader#dbf!joel fluff#dbf joel miller#dbf! joel miller#dbf!joel#pedro pascal characters#joel miller pedro pascal#pedro pascal joel miller#code red
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Hollow - Sebastian Sallow
Summary: It's been two years since you died. Two years since you'd jumped in front of Solomon and changed the trajectory of Sebastian's life forever. His hatred for himself knew no bounds, and no matter how much time passed, he knew he would never be able to forgive himself.
Word Count: 840
Warnings: Graphic descriptions of blood/violence, references to depression
A super short stand-alone drabble of pure pain because why not. It's here on Ao3 too :'))
Sebastian was drowning.
His mind was a never-ending sea of grief, anger, and despair– choking him all hours of the day and threatening to suck him under every waking minute of his wretched life. He was always angry, fuming with the kind of rage that stirred hot and deep inside of him and burned anyone that got too close. He existed in a perpetual state of self-loathing that not even Ominis could pull him from, and it was no wonder why.
The only person that could ever talk Sebastian down from shitty feelings like these was gone. At his own hands, no less.
The same hands that had protected, soothed, and treasured you from the moment he met you, had taken you from this world in a split second. Another resulting tragedy of his visceral, untamable temper. It didn’t matter that he’d been aiming for Solomon, or that his intent behind the killing curse hadn’t even been directed at you at all. In the end, you had jumped in the way to stop him, and the green cords of the unforgivable curse had wrapped around you and forced your last breath from your lungs all the same.
His hands used to fit perfectly with yours.
He couldn’t fathom that so much time had passed already without you beside him. Two years ago to the fucking day. Seven-hundred and thirty days of unimaginable agony, to be exact.
On the one year anniversary of your death, Ominis had found him shut away in the Undercroft screaming bloody murder, setting every last barrel and crate ablaze with the force of the damn sun. There had been no getting through to the brunet then, and there certainly wouldn’t be this year either– seeing as Sebastian had taken his anger off of the school grounds entirely to fan the flames of fury that burned bright behind his dark, hollow eyes.
Sebastian clenched his bloodied fists and stared down at the mutilated corpses he’d been standing over for a while now. The Forbidden Forest was void of any light, save for a few strands of moonlight that broke through the canopy overhead, casting a dim glow on the mess before him. Hot tears swam in his eyes and blurred the horror scene that painted the ground, and his throat struggled to swallow the all encompassing thought that you weren’t here.
A sob heaved from Sebastian’s chest as he fell to his knees, pummeling the shit out of one of the already dead, messy lumps he’d been using as a punching bag. His wand was somewhere in the grass beside him, but he didn’t need it. Not for this.
No one was there to stop him, and he was almost glad for it.
Until he remembered that no one was there to stop him.
Sebastian screamed, shredding his already torn up throat further as he punched and kicked the bloody heap until the tears finally started to fall down his freckled face. His fists sank deeper and deeper into the pale, marred flesh of the dead Ashwinder, the body cold and unmoving, and the foul coppery stench of blood was like a distant memory burned into his nostrils.
The gaps between his fingers were too wide; your fingers used to fit there perfectly.
Sebastian felt a bone within the corpse crack under the force of his punches. He couldn’t breathe.
Cold blood met with cold hands, and Sebastian swore there used to be life in his extremities. It wasn’t enough, he decided, almost desperate to unleash the boiling rage inside of him; all of the frustration and hopelessness, every last lick of anguish and pain.
He stared at his hands. The spaces between his fingers were like gaping voids, sucking in the tiny remnants of joy the world had left him with. His legs trembled and gave out from under him, his knees collapsing against the lifeless body beneath him and soaking his trousers with even more blood. It was a non-issue compared to the massive rifts that tore open in his psyche. Sebastian shifted and let himself roll to the side, the ground meeting his back with a thud, and the world spun for just a while longer while he blinked up at the thin strips of light that snuck through the branches overhead.
The sight reminded him of how much you’d loved astronomy. You used to drag him all over school to stargaze for hours.
Sebastian couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, his dirty fingers spreading and grasping uselessly at empty air. He stared at the darkening sky, short gasps punctuating wordless sobs as more tears than he’d ever produced before rolled down the sides of his face and into his ears, moistening his hair.
The Slytherin stayed that way for hours, digging his fingers into the grass to try and fill the aching chasm in his chest. It was the last time Sebastian ever let himself cry.
His fingers never stopped spreading, and his hands never stopped searching. But they never found anything, either.
#sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow oneshot#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy fanfic#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian sallow x you#sebastian sallow x reader#this is incredibly short but that's okay because a little pain is good for the soul#wrote this in the throes of an anxiety attack last night at like 2am and I called out of work cause I feel gross today#my writing#okay now back to the Yule Ball smut
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Return to father… (Tangled Au Pt6)
Summary: After his wife and daughter died he thought he lost everything. However, you for some reason, you'd didn't disappear. So, Miguel locked you up. He had to find some way to protect you so you couldn't be taken from him like Gabriella. What better way to do that then keep you in his dimension where he could get to you in case of anything
Warnings: Lowkey bad parenting, protective poc parenting, Lowkey kidnapped, held forcefully.
Series Masterlist
You attempted to pull your arm away from him with all your strength but it was no use, miguel was definitely stronger than you. Within the blink of an eye, you realized that you may have back at the place you so desperately tried to escape but failed each and everything.
A sob erupted from your lips. “Dad please!” You screamed, trying again to plant your feet, so you wouldn’t go all the way through the portal with him. You wanted to be with hobie, the one man who had showed you everything he could in one day when your dad hadn’t done it in nearly 13 years. Then the thought hit you quickly, a thing you could say to knock your dad off his feet. “Mom wouldn’t want you to hold me like this!” You yelled. The pulling stoped, as long with your heart Why would you say that in the first place? it made him stop but it was still a horrid thing to say…
Miguel turned around slowly, before looking at you with a look of horror, regret, amongst other things. “Y/n. You will come across this portal with me and we’ll talk at home. I’m not letting you go run off with some boy you’ve never met, i’m your FATHER!” The man would have started screaming, making hobie look even if he was beaten. Over this time, the man had been developing feelings for you too, you were so likeable. It was no wonder why miguel kept his baby inside, some manor woman would come sweep her from under him in a snap. The way you laughed, the way you smiled. He loved the way that you looked when he had you try something new. How you looked when he showed you new sights. If it was some other person, he wouldn’t care but it was you. The very woman he had fell in love with at first sight.
Love was the reason he was now getting up and limping to you, not caring about Gwen calling his name or any of the spider-people people who were helping the scene. The man only cared about you, it was love that wad making him act so irrational. That shit is so fucking stupid, huh?
When he eventually got close enough to see the both of you; still going at each others throats he used a web to fling himself to a rooftop, right next to you. Miguel’s face was now a mix of surprise and anger, as he was going to make a rebuttal to your previous disrespect. Now he was completely caught off gaurd by the young man who had joined his daughter. He had never liked hobie in the first place and him doing this: was only putting fuel on that hate train he had.
“This dosent concern you hobie, Leave.” Miguel’s voice had pure venom as he spoke. He took a step towards you while hobie did the same, this time standing in front of you and your father (monkey in the middle 😃) (srry.) “Who do you think you are huh? Prince charming? Flynn Ryder?”
Hobie didn’t think he was anyone, he didn’t even think before he used his watch to open up another portal, running halfway inside before turning to you for your hand. He wasn’t even in a state to be running but none of his injuries hurt because he was finally with you. He was willing to risk everything for that one smile you gave him. What’s the harm in love? The harm is now you had two choices? Leave with hobie or go with your father. This was something you need to think about but Miguel wasn’t a patient man. In a second, a red web wrapped around your arm and another on your leg before you were yanked away with your dad into the portal where your home lied. The intentions of being trapped up there forever.
Hobie couldn’t do anything but watch. Watch the love of his life be snatched away from his grasp forever…
Hey everyone! sorry if that was bad, i wrote this in the bath. Had to stop what i was doing and spend an extra 15 minutes because i had another thought. I deleted the last draft completely! I hope you enjoyed this and please let me know if you want to see anything else on my page. I do take requests and shit like that!
Taglist:
@blkmystery
@discowizard88
@touyasprettydoll
@onyxstarhigh06
@v1l-ismissing
I’m so sorry for the late chapter and anyone let down because of the delay!
#fanfic#xreader#minimoxha#black!reader#astv x reader#astv miguel#across the spiderverse#astv#astv miles#astv gwen#astv fanfic#astv spoilers#astv the spot#astv fic#astv hobie#spiderman astv#spider punk#hobie brown x reader#atsv hobie#hobie x you#hobie x y/n#hobie my beloved#hobie x reader#hobie spiderverse#hobie brown#minumoxha#miguel x daughter reader#miguel ohara#atsv miguel#miguel spiderman
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Dona Nobis Pacem (Grant Us Peace) - Chapter Five
Summary: After preparing for the arrival of her new housemates, the last thing Rose expected was for one of them to be the man whose flat she had snuck out of the night before.
This was actually the second chapter I wrote for this and @demdifferentstories-29 did an amazing job of helping me edit my first real, official smut scene. I hope y'all enjoy!
Read here on AO3
In the following days, tension built to an almost unbearable amount — almost-kisses and heavier touches led James to believe that maybe his feelings were reciprocated. Rose would hold his hand whenever they were out and would nearly be on his lap when they were reading together in the library. There were quite a few times where he had to excuse himself and head up to his room for a wank.
Little did he know, Rose was also doing the same.
This time was no different. She thought about him a lot, especially since their first almost-kiss in the library. In the privacy of her room, she touched herself as she imagined all the filthy ways James would fuck her — his fingers, his tongue, his cock. Muffled moans of ‘James’ were quickly followed by her orgasm crashing over her. She composed herself, got cleaned up, and prepared for their movie night later in the evening.
The light from the television was the only source illuminating the dark living room. A film whose title was unknown to James was playing, it being Rose’s turn to pick what to watch for movie night. Jack and Donna had gone out for a bit to enjoy the London nightlife, leaving the house empty except for the two of them. James didn’t mind, especially with them curled up on the couch next to each other, and although the shared blanket seemed to be giving him warmth, he was positive it was partially because a certain blonde was sitting next to him, focused on the progression of the movie.
They had taken to cuddling more during movie nights. He knew that he had fallen for her hard and truly savoured the moments of intimacy with Rose. Surely, she didn’t feel the same, though. This was just something that they did as mates.
Mentally cataloguing everything he could sense as she laid with him came naturally. Her fingers laced in his felt like the perfect fit. The scent of her shampoo was like strawberries and jasmine and Rose. The heat of her body pressed so close to his. He also noticed how aroused he was getting just by their proximity and silently hoped that the case was the same for her.
As the film continued, James quickly realised that it was turning into sex. Really hot, passionate sex — bringing out memories of the one night stand they had. Now all he could think about was her coming undone beneath him. He swallowed thickly and felt his jaw clench. His discomfort wasn't so much due to a scene like that in the movie, but because Rose was sitting there within touching distance and he couldn’t think of anything but how badly he wished that the man and woman on the screen were them.
“I wish I’d had something like that,” Rose muttered, breaking James out of his inappropriate and devilish thoughts. Golden honey eyes stayed transfixed to the screen as the scene became more sexual and intimate, soft touches and quiet declarations of love painted the picture of the relationship between the characters.
“What do you mean?” James questioned, his eyebrows furrowing. He knew she had been with a boyfriend in the past, but not much about the details aside from his name. Jimmy. Even thinking about him made him feel nauseous.
She sighed, pulling her head away from James’ shoulder. “Just, y’know…” Trailing off, Rose tried again upon seeing the confusion and concern on his face. “Having a guy who actually cares. Who wants to have sex because he wants me, not just to get off.” The words came out bitter on her tongue, however none were directed at James. It seemed like he knew it, too.
Head cocked in curiosity, he continued pressing. “What would you have done if you’d had a man who wasn’t just some sleazy bastard with a guitar?” The question was entirely innocent in his eyes, simply probing for more information on this mysterious ex-boyfriend of hers.
Not for any particular reason, obviously.
Rose’s face was suddenly coloured red with blush, the question catching her off guard. “Well, uh,” she swallowed nervously, “it would probably start with me straddling his lap.” Her words grew stronger as she felt braver, watching as James took a deep inhale and his jaw twitched. Maybe he was into it? He didn’t seem too opposed by at least the first part of her answer. “I’d grind down to feel him getting hard; feel his hands gripping my hips. Brush my lips against his just enough to tease before he pulls me into a proper snog.”
James could feel his jim-jams starting to get embarrassingly tight, suddenly thankful for the blanket strewn across their laps. Movie long forgotten, he sat stunned at the words flowing from her mouth. She’s telling him these gorgeous things, all unprompted. This… This fantasy of hers, and he was picturing himself as the man she would be on top of in this theoretical scenario.
“Feel him flip me onto my back, grinding against me. Take each other’s clothes off and just…” She trailed off, looking at the dazed look on his face. Did she just go too far? “James? You okay…?”
He shook himself out of his reverie. “Yeah, just thinking, erm—” He took a deep breath. “I just don’t know if it was descriptive enough.”
It came out before he could even think. This was a dangerous game; a fine line he was treading. Would she even want him like that still? Did she think about him as much as he thought about her?
The smile on her face before biting her lower lip at his words said all he needed to know.
Rose moved the blanket off them, her eyes never leaving his. She simply couldn’t tear them away from the searing gaze he gave her as she moved. Adjusting, she moved to straddle his lap, her arms going around his neck and her face close to his.
“Is this alright?” she asked tentatively. He nodded, automatically placing his hands lightly on her knees. He shuddered at the feeling of her bare skin, her sleep shorts ending at her upper thighs. In another brazen move, she took James’ hands in hers and set them on her waist. Giving just the smallest amount of pressure to indicate that he can touch. That he should touch.
The low groan that came out of his mouth when Rose ground down on his growing erection rumbled through his chest, making its way out of his throat. Gripping her hips tightly, he could barely contain himself, fighting off the urge to thrust up into her. Desperately trying to think of all the reasons this was a bad idea, he couldn’t fight off his desire-filled brain as the sexiest moan slipped out of her lips as she felt him hard against her core, making his blood feel like fire.
“Oh, fuck,” he moaned as she lowered his forehead to his. James felt her as she leaned in, brushing her lips against his in the lightest of touches. Their foreheads met, both of them quivering in anticipation. His hands drifted to her midriff, her sleep shirt having ridden up, revealing her gorgeous, soft skin that was just calling out for James to touch. Light fingertips grazed her sides as she panted lightly, her breath against his lips stoking the arousal pooling in his stomach and below his waist. “I guess this is the part where I kiss you?” The words came out quieter than he had meant them to. Thankfully, Rose heard and let out some hushed words of her own.
“Please, James—” That was all it took to shatter his resolve.
The fingers on his left hand moved down to dig into her arse while his right hand reached up to tangle his hands in her hair, hauling her mouth against his. She moaned into his mouth, her tongue slipping in while she had the chance. They kissed hard, but it wasn’t just some rough fuck. This was fueled by underlying emotions. By lust and adoration and absolute attraction to mind and body. He could barely think, but his movements were automatic when he remembered what came next.
‘Feel him flip me onto my back, grinding against me.’
Rose let out the most obscene moan as he flipped her with surprising grace and pressed his body against hers. He was big and hot and oh-so hard. She felt herself drenching her knickers at the thought of his cock inside her. The feeling of his fingers trailing down to the waistband of her shorts. “Rose,” he panted. “Can I?”
Feeling her nod frantically, James slipped his hand under the fabric, even going under her knickers. “Ooh,” he groaned, slicking himself up between her lips. “You’re absolutely soaked for me.” His fingers teased her entrance as she moaned, bucking her hips up for some type of friction.
She was able to choke out one word. “Inside.”
He grinned, slowly sliding one of his fingers inside, immediately starting to move gently. “Oh, I've been waiting for this.” His voice was low, sending a jolt of need through her and causing her to throb around the digits currently thrusting inside her. He sped up, adding a second finger and causing her to moan his name like a prayer. “I thought about doing this when I brought you home the first time. Imagining how you would feel, how you would react.” His fingers sped up, starting a nearly punishing rhythm as he curled them upwards into the spongy wall of her cunt.
The familiar tension in her gut came on quickly. “Shit, James, I’m-” She gripped onto the cushion of the couch, arching her back as she came hard. “God, James.” Stars flashed behind her eyes as he drew her orgasm out — paying careful attention to her pleasure. When she finally opened her eyes, he was studying her. Without another word, he pulled his fingers out of her and slipped them into his mouth.
“God, you taste amazing,” he groaned. Sucking his fingers clean, he moved to cover her body with his. “What I would do to taste you properly.” His hands drifted under her shirt and nails scratched against her side. Fingers tangling in his hair, Rose’s mind went blank as he began to bite at her neck.
“Fuck, James—” she whined. “Wait, we — fuck — should move. They’ll be back soon.”
James begrudgingly lifted his head, eyes meeting hers. His pupils were blown with lust and adrenaline. He knew, however, that she was right. He didn’t necessarily want to get caught shagging Rose on the living room couch. Besides, he wanted to really enjoy this.
“Right,” he said quickly, clearing his throat, “Let’s take this upstairs?” It wasn’t meant to come out as a question. He eased himself off of her and held out his hand in invitation.
The flush on his face and bulge in his thin pyjama bottoms made Rose swoon. He was even more gorgeous than she drunkenly remembered. She took his hand, allowing him to help her up and lead her to the stairs. She couldn’t care less whose room they stumbled into, she just needed him now.
He kicked open the door to his room, which was closer to the staircase. Cloaked in darkness, Rose tried to take a peek inside while it had the sliver of light from the hall. An intricate dark wooden bed frame was the most notable object in the room, adored with dark red sheets, four matching pillows, and a black comforter. A dresser was against the wall, part of the set that went with the bed frame. There was a plain desk and shelves, lined with various knicknacks from his travels. His personal bookshelf was absolutely filled with books, but the room was too dark to see the titles of them. Various pieces of art hung on the walls, making everything seem more personalised. The room was full and cosy and so very James.
Pushing her into the dark room, James slammed the door closed behind them. Before he could move further through the dark, his back hit the door with a thud as Rose pushed him back against it, desperately crashing her lips to his. Her fingers trailed down his body and down to his cock straining against the fabric of his pyjamas, giving him a squeeze. She could feel every inch of him, the light fabric leaving nothing to the imagination.
She felt a rush of wetness between her legs when she heard the grunt he let out when her hand rubbed his cock. He teased her plenty earlier, now it was her turn.
“All this for me?” she whispered into his ear, gripping his cock through his bottoms. “I take it you’ve been thinking about me?” She grinned into his neck as he nodded, hips bucking into her hand as she rubbed him. Her thumb swiped across the head, feeling him leaking slightly and causing a wet spot to form in front of his pyjamas. He could feel her teeth and tongue on his collarbone, slowly making their way up his neck. He couldn’t help the guttural moan that escaped his lips when Rose deftly worked him through the fabric. She bit down lightly on his earlobe, her hot breath against his cheek. “Good, because I’ve been thinking about you.”
Oh, that did it.
A growl ripped from his throat as he grabbed the back of her thighs, urging Rose to jump up and wrap her legs around his waist. She did just that, burying her hands into his hair and nipping at that bottom lip she’s always stared at while he walked them over to his bed. Nearly stumbling on a pair of his trainers that had been carelessly discarded on the floor, they giggled against each other’s lips lightly before sharing another deep kiss. The front of his knees finally hit the mattress, depositing her onto the soft sheets. “God, I’ve wanted you again ever since I saw you walk down the stairs when I moved in.”
“I’ve wanted you again ever since you caught me on those stairs,” Rose gasped. Hands roamed as they worked on divesting each other of their clothes. James’ t-shirt was the first to come off while Rose pulled at the waistband of his jim-jams.
“Please, James,” she groaned as he pulled her hands off of him, reaching for the hem of her sleep shirt. “Need them off— Please.” She was making sure he knew exactly what she wanted, but he wasn’t about to give in that easily.
Once he had pulled the shirt off her frame and discarded it to the floor, he made quick work of kissing down to her breasts, feeling her nipples pebble as he rolled them between his fingertips.
“What, Rose?” he asked, his voice low and sultry. “‘Please’ what?” The words sent a shiver down her spine, her fingers threading through his soft, thick hair. James hadn’t been this sexy and wanton during their drunken shag. It drove her crazy, seeing his eyes burning with pure desire, even in the darkness of his bedroom. She could feel them staring into her soul and breaking down any restraint she tried to form.
“Please fuck me. God, please just fuck me.” It was breathy and full of need. She couldn’t wait anymore. She felt as if she was about to combust.
James sat up as Rose lifted her hips, helping him pull her sleep shorts and knickers down her legs in one go. Her fingers slipped under his waistband and met skin. That’s when she realised that he wasn’t wearing any pants. He was bare against her hand, throbbing as Rose traced his length with just a finger. Barely a ghosting touch, but exhilarating nonetheless.
He couldn’t handle it. Quickly pulling down his pyjama pants, he crawled up the bed, following after Rose as her head hit his pillows. James used the opportunity to truly look at the goddess in his bed. Her golden hair fanned out on the red pillow like pure sunlight, framing her face in this golden aura. Her plump lips were bruised from the desperate snog in the living room, and her eyes were so dark that they nearly reflected the night sky as she laid bare before him.
“Blimey, you’re so beautiful.” The words came out before he could stop them, and she just melted into the mattress even more. “I can’t believe I get to see you like this. Naked in my bed.” No sweet words were exchanged during their drunken shag. In fact, not many words were exchanged at all. Yet here he was, looking at her like she placed the stars in the sky herself.
“You’re not so bad yourself.” The tone was teasing and light, but there was no mistaking the aroused undertones of it as Rose’s eyes roamed over his body. The planes of his stomach, his v-line leading down to slim hip bones, the smattering of hair on his chest. He was fit but still muscled. Not heavily toned but still strong enough to carry her body weight however he wanted to. Her thoughts were interrupted by James pressing his body against hers, the underside of his cock sliding through her slick folds, eliciting a loud moan from both of them.
He gritted his teeth, willing himself to stay still. “Shit, Rose, I need…” he panted, frantically looking at his bedside table. “I don’t have any condoms.” James mentally cursed himself for not being prepared, even if it meant popping by the store for a simple box of condoms in case he needed them.
“Don’t need ‘em,” Rose breathed, hips arching up to feel him bare against her. “‘M on the pill.” Reaching down, she wrapped her hand around him, stroking and tightening her grip ever so slightly as she twisted her hand on the upstroke. Feeling her rubbing the head of his cock through her wetness while biting her lip, he let out a long moan as her eyes met his. “Please, James. I need you in me.”
He didn’t have to think twice. Carefully adjusting himself, he slowly slid into her. Her sharp inhale slowed him, giving her time to adjust while placing kisses along her neck, shoulder, collarbone, and really anywhere he could reach. Finally being able to move, James sheathed himself within her. He gasped as he was enveloped in her warmth. She was so hot and tight and wet, and he was so thankful that he was sober and could ingrain this feeling into his brain. Rose’s nails bit into his back and shoulders, certainly leaving marks that will last days; a reminder of this precious moment. Of how he pleasured her so well.
The intimacy of it all was such a stark contrast from their drunken shag. The intentional but caring touches; passionate kisses without the rough clashing of teeth.
After another moment of adjusting and leisurely, gentle thrusts, her hips bucked up into his, indicating that she was ready for more. That she needed more. James’ lips met hers in another desperate, bruising kiss as he began to slowly pull out, groaning into her mouth. Her forehead pressed against his as he thrusted in sharply, punctuating it with a roll of his hips and a shared gasp from both of them. One of her legs wrapped around his hip, the other around his calf, as Rose encouraged him to move, crying out ‘harder’ and ‘more’ and ‘faster’, mingled in with lots of ‘oh, fuck’ and ‘oh, god, James’. The words just drove him further into absolute lust-filled delirium as he did just as she asked. His teeth found his way to her shoulder, sucking a dark purple bruise into her skin. Leaving a reminder of tonight on her for her to see later.
The sound of skin on skin filled the room, accompanied by gasps and grunts. He wrapped his left arm under her waist, using his right elbow against the mattress to keep him up, and changed the angle of her hips. Rose cried out as his cock went deeper with each roll of his hips, trying to mimic it to see her fall apart underneath him. The absolute pleasure coursing through her left her with no coherent thoughts except James. The smell of his sweat as his bare chest pressed against hers. The feel of his arms around her, hauling her against him as he fucked her hard and fast. The delicious sounds he made against her neck as his thrusts began to become more consistent and intentional, finding her g-spot and hitting it with each meeting of their hips.
James could feel the telltale signs of his orgasm approaching, his stomach coiling tighter and tighter. Thankfully, it seemed like Rose was approaching the precipice of it with him.
“Oh, god, Rose,” he groaned into her neck. “Are you close?” He peppered her neck with kisses as he felt her shudder, legs tightening around him as she got closer and closer.
“God yes, James. Fuck. I’m so close. Please, I want you to come inside me.” She pulled his lips back down to theirs, crying out against his mouth. Her fingers were pulling on his hair, desperately trying to convey how badly she wanted him.
He fed into the encouragement blindly as his hips stuttered, staving off the inevitable to bring Rose to completion first. “That’s it, Rose,” he murmured, his voice gravelly and incredibly breathy. “I can feel you getting close. I want you to come for me. Need you to come for me. Shit, you feel so good.” He was rambling at that point, practically begging for her to join him.
“So close. Gonna come—” Rose choked out, one hand trailing down to rub against her clit, inadvertently brushing against the base of his cock, eliciting a groan from the man above her. Her thighs quivered as the string pulled more and more taut inside her.
“Come for me, love. That’s it. Fuck, you’re absolutely beautiful.”
That did it. Her orgasm came crashing down on her. Rose threw her head back, letting out the filthiest moan James had ever heard as her walls tightened around him, triggering his own release. He grunted through it, emptying himself into her as she came down from her high, her legs keeping his hips tight against hers. His head was spinning and sparks flashed behind his eyelids as he tried to regain his awareness.
As he came back to reality, soft hands rubbed his back as he held himself up on shaky arms, panting harshly. Carefully, he rolled over, wincing as his already-softening cock slipped out of her. Blindly reaching over onto his bedside table, a box of tissues were quickly brought over. James took the liberty of cleaning Rose up tenderly, smiling and softly meeting her eyes softly. An unspoken agreement between them that this wasn’t just sex but something else entirely.
He tossed the tissues into the trash can, reaching down to pull the sheets up over them. He grinned as Rose crawled into his embrace, laying against his side and sighing in contentment as his heart beat against her ear. A leg draped over his own and the room settled, silent confessions hanging heavily in the air. This wasn’t just a naked cuddle after just sex. James wouldn’t want anything but this post-coital bliss at this moment.
“That was… wow,” Rose murmured against his chest, fingers drawing patterns in the light bit of hair on his chest.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” James smiled and closed his eyes, turning his head pressing a kiss to her hair. In a domestic way. Shit. He realised what he had done, frantically looking down at the blonde goddess in his arms. Her hands cupped his face, thumbs caressing his cheekbones. Copper eyes met his, flickering down to his lips. “Rose, I’m sorry if—”
“Do that again,” she said in a breathy whisper, cutting him off from starting his anxious rambling.
His lips met hers passionately, Rose leaning closer onto him, almost in his lap. James’ hands automatically wrapped around her, both of them tangled in the red sheets of his bed. Shared moans and gasps fueled his desire, hardening under the blanket as Rose’s hand began to wander down towards his cock. Right as they began to get lost in the exploration of each other’s mouths, the door swung open.
“Oi, we’re back. Did you finish up with—” It was like a record scratch — everyone froze. Donna’s eyes went wide at James and Rose in bed together. “Bloody hell, James! Lock your door!” the ginger exclaimed, covering her eyes and quickly backing out of the room.
Mortified, Rose pulled the sheets up against her fully as he made sure the situation in his lap wasn’t visible to his sister, who really should have known better than to just barge into his room unannounced. Well, maybe not, but still. It didn’t make the entire thing not feel like an eternity where his stomach was clawing out of his throat in embarrassment.
James frantically tried to untangle himself from the sheets, feet meeting the floor as he attempted to pull his pyjama pants back on. His foot caught on the pant leg, sending him tumbling onto the floor.
“Donna! Wait!” James called after her as he tried to make his way to the door. His bottoms were still tangled around his ankles, a failed attempt at modesty. And the worst part?
Rose couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing.
#my fic#tenth doctor#rose tyler#doctor who#tenrose#ten/rose#ten x rose#donna noble#jack harkness#doctor who fanfiction#enjoy the smut friends
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So I've been going through some old roleplays I've done with people, and one of the stories I wrote with my friend is just.. the perfect plot for a Dreamling fic??? Like, it fits these two so well, and I might write it myself- But if anyone in the fandom is inspired by this, feel free to take the idea! and also link me to it please and thank you <3
(Please note: This would be a medieval fantasy AU where there is magic, but the Endless siblings aren't their actual anthropomorphic personifications. Maybe they have minor powers over their domains, or they just have their nicknames, I say go wild with it-)
Okay. Let us set the scene.
Through some shape or form, Morpheus, one of the Endless princes, is cursed to see his first spouse die in a horrific way before his eyes. This, of course, scares away any potential suitor when they find out about this curse, because fuck that, they're not too keen on dying in a horrific way??
So, the king and queen decide on a plan; Morpheus will just have to marry some commoner who nobody would really miss, somebody who would've probably keeled over from illness within a month or three, so the curse will claim them and Morpheus will be free to find someone he wants to marry without y'know, constantly fearing he'll see them die a traumatizing death-
Enter Hob Gadling, an ex-soldier with no family, who the royal guards just plucked out of a local tavern, under the guise of "providing a special service for his country". He gets taken to the palace and is freshened up a bit, before going straight towards the chapel to marry the prince.
Morpheus is very much Not Pleased with all this, and after the wedding ceremony, once they are alone, he tells Hob about the curse. That he doesn't know when Hob will die, could be hours, days, months, or even years, but he will be dying a gruesome death and Morpheus will be forced to watch it happen. So, y'know, he's sorry this guy had to be roped into all this, he seems nice, it's a shame he'll have to die.
Yet Hob seems to take it pretty well, for someone who's been told they are now fated to die in terrible pain and all that jazz. He just smiles and basically goes "Welp, then I'll enjoy the remaining time I've got I guess- Life is still very rich and I intend to enjoy it by your side, your highness."
Morpheus can't help but admire the other's optimism a bit, but he tells himself that no matter what, he will not get attached to this man, because it'll only hurt more in the end. He tries to avoid Hob at the castle, but fate/the Plot keeps steering them back together into the same space, and spoiler alert, the prince starts to like this guy more and more, even though he knows it's gonna hurt when Hob perishes.
And then one day, while out on a ride together or something, Hob gets kicked in the chest by a horse, which would be breaking every rib and undoubtedly puncturing all the possible organs in that region of the body. And Morpheus, as stated by the curse, has front-row seats to the "Watching your husband choke to death on his own blood" show, sitting there all alone.
Only problem is... Hob doesn't die..? Like, he's clearly choking, but the bruises seem to slowly.. disappear? And he slowly stops choking on his own breath?? He even begins to cough and sit up???
Cue Morpheus freaking the hell out because huh???? How the fuck??? And Hob is just complaining that ow, fuck, that hurt like a bitch, can he please get some water?
More incidents like this start happening, to everyone's confusion but Hob, who seems to believe he's just ah.. very sturdy.
Hob's food gets poisoned with something that would've killed three grown men, and he gets violently ill, but a week later he's back to normal, and the spy on the staff who did the poisoning gets exposed because they cannot hide their extreme confusion as to how someone survived a triple dose of Night's Kiss???
Someone's fire spell goes wrong and Hob should've been burned to a crisp, but he's only got some first and second-degree burns, that'll heal, he's sadder about the fact that one of his fave new outfits got destroyed :c
A drop from the tower, the tallest one in the kingdom? Yeah, that one. Geez, it was high, and he has some broken bones, but he'll be okay, bones heal within a month anyway, right? (Right?, he asks, to a horrified but kind of impressed Morpheus, who can't even bring himself to tell Hob no at this point-)
Hob falls into a very strong river current, which sweeps him under and must surely drown him ten times over, but two hours or so later, Morpheus is met with a very soaked and chilly Hob, who climbed out of the river a few miles downstream and look, he even caught his prince a fish or three during his little adventure ^^
It's not until Hob 'dies' in a way that cannot be explained by having a strong immune system or being able to muscle through some pain, like.. I dunno, a decapitation or something, that Hob goes "Wait a second, weird idea, but maybe I'm immortal?"
"YOU THINK???" - Morpheus, on the verge of a nervous breakdown at this point-
And also at this point they realize that wait a fucking second, Hob literally cannot die, and the curse cannot pass on to a second spouse, holy shit, Morpheus gets to keep him- And it'll be cute and whoever/whatever gave Hob immortality in the first place goes "Okay, sure, your hubby can live forever too, here you go-"
Really tempted to write it now, but feel free to steal this word vomit idea of mine if you want- xD
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SCENE - Secret meeting deep within the Victory.
ONSLAUGHT: I think we can all agree on one thing despite our numerous differences-
ONSLAUGHT: Fuck that brat.
EVERYONE: Fuck Starscream.
ONSLAUGHT: Now this has clearly been a big change for all of us with the new, ah, Standards Lord First Aid has installed.
MOTORMASTER: HE'S MAKING US GO TO CLASS!
DRAG STRIP: WE HAD TO GET SOCIAL PROTOCOLS INSTALLED!
BREAKDOWN: I kind of like the first aid course though...
HOOK: Fuck you kids finally getting manners installed is not a problem. That menace has taken over my Medbay. My Medbay!
BLITZWING: Ah, come on Hooky. What did you expect given he's a real Doc.
HOOK: #@$$#$%#
ONSLAUGHT: FOCUS!
ONSLAUGHT: As I was saying. Though things have been different, but we cannot deny some improvements.
SKYWARP: He let Screamer make the solar thingy so we've got food.
ASTROTRAIN: He fixed my mass displacement issues.
SWINDLE: Let's a mech make his own business legally even.
HOOK: [begrudgingly] He did prioritize my replacement equipment requests.
VORTEX: He's better to look at than Megatron. [SILENCE] Oh fuck you we were all thinking it.
ONSLAUGHT: We are undeniably better fed, better repaired, and better cared for than ever before.
ONSLAUGHT: And our newest Lord has assets that can not be ignored.
ONSLAUGHT: Now we all know Starscream is plotting-
THUNDERCRACKER: When isn't he.
ONSLAUGHT: -and that those shameless Autobot world jumpers want to carry off our new Lord the moment he's out of our sight.
ONSLAUGHT: Lord First Aid doesn't suffer the same qualms as the one we are familiar with. I am sure we all heard his stories of these Wreckers.
BRAWL: [dreamily] Yeah.
ONSLAUGHT: He is not opposed to violence. Therefore I believe we can persuade our new leader to stay and rule us leading to a new golden age for the Decepticon Empire.
REFLECTOR: And no more eating scrap.
ONSLAUGHT: And no more eating...scrap.
EVERYONE: NO MORE EATING SCRAP!
Dhdjfjfj yesssss
Someone has to care for these idiots (affectionate), so it might as well be First Aid. I'm betting he'd grow so surprisingly protective of the g1 decepticons, and vice versa! The Lost Lighters are gonna have such a ~time~ getting him away if/when they do
This is so damn fun because yeahhhhh! He's dim damn helping! Hook might be a bit miffed but don't worry it's nothing a few more boxes of anti rust agents and actual medical tools can't fix.
I wonder what the g1 autobots would make of mtmte First Aid, actually, and how all of that scrap would go
#maccadam#transformers#[insert lost light and g1 crossover au name here]#transformers g1#mtmte first aid#he is absolutely prepared to overhaul the faction's standards of living
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What is the take. Please share with the class.
Oh, right my take! (I actually posted the first...thoughts of this accidentally before I could finish it because I accidentally queued them instead of drafting but that gave me more time to obsess over this)
So you know how in 2.14 this happens:
Blaine gets kidnapped by Stacey Boss, has his throat slit, and gets buried in the woods. And then by the time he digs himself back out:
Sun's up.
For a really long time, I really never thought about these scenes beyond: 'heh, there is my boy again, good for him!' until it really struck me how fucked up that was. (Partially bc I watched that Buffy episode where the others bring her back from the dead and she has to dig herself out of her own grave and everyone is horrified by how traumatising that experience must have been. Which made me go: Hey, this reminds me of-)
Blaine was down there for hours buried alive. He dug himself out for hours.
But then I thought: Hey, I can do better! I want to find out how long he was down there!
So, at first I assumed that the abduction would have taken place in the middle of the night - because that's when it would make most sense to abduct someone. But that didn't really make sense bc in all the other plots happening at the same time, everyone was still out and about, the Positivity-café from the murder of the week plot is still open etc.
But then I found this:
This takes place just two scenes after Blaine gets buried - so even if we can't really pin down whether those events happen at the same time or this one takes place a little after Blaine got buried, we can still settle for Blaine getting buried between about 7pm and (at the very latest) 7:30pm.
I skimmed through the two previous episodes and the one after that but I couldn't find anything about when this takes place - but we do know that it's really dark outside at 7pm and we do know that New Year's Eve happened Method Head four episodes ago, so it's after Winter Solstice.
So like any normal sane adult I got me this diagramme of sunrise/sunset times in Seattle throughout the year:
Now, at least several weeks have passed since Method Head so this places us well within February (which makes sense, bc the episode also originally aired on the 23rd of February 2016).
Personally, I'm actually prone to dating it even earlier, in early February or late January because they go out of their way to give us this information:
And I found this on a website about Seattle's bird-life:
Now, working out way backwards about two weeks -
-places us in late January, or very early February. Which means (referring back to our daylight diagramme), Blaine couldn't have managed to get out of that grave before 7:20am or 7:30 am.
Which gives us a pretty exact duration for how long Blaine was buried alive of about - Approximately 12 hours (minus the time it took to actually fill up the grave. Something I'll come back to)
Which is fucked up. That would be a pretty traumatic experience on normal person terms, being buried alive for 12 hours and digging yourself back out. Possibly even longer than that because by the time Blaine arrives at the morgue, it is actually well past noon -
but that would obviously include the bus-ride and we don't know how long that was. (In fact, I had a look at Google Maps and dabbled a bit to see how long different public transport rides from any surrounding forests or parks or other green areas to the inner city of Seattle would take, and it could very well be possible that Stacey just really wanted to make sure that Blaine's body wouldn't be found and had him buried really far away in any of the surrounding National Parks or national forests - and from google maps tells me, public transport only goes so far and he'd have have walked the rest, which would explain why it's already noon.
(by the way, what do people without hyperfixiations do all day? Do you just ... not use bird-mating seasons and daylight hours and public transport schedules from a city on the other side of the globe to figure out the date and time of day of tv-show events?)
But this is where speculation actually starts:
As the audience, we learn that Blaine is returning to zombie state before he gets abducted:
he can't really taste his wine anymore (and god, is he whiny about it.)
What we don't know is whether Blaine connects the dots.
What does happen is that Blaine abandons his mission of getting wine-drunk over the woes of having to pay back his debts to Mr Boss and instead suggests that Candy and he have genie costume role-play sex. Candy apparently considers this a delightful and charming notion and agrees - and they go to have sex inside another couple's coffin. Which is fitting bc now they're both dying - Blaine from reverting to zombie form and Candy because she is now infected as well. Though it need be said that as the audience, we only learn about Candy's infection after Blaine’s abduction, when Don E finds her eating the coffin owners' brains the next morning.
This also gives us some insight into the stage of his infection (which is a bit hard to tell with Blaine because he's already dyeing his hair white) - He's already infectious and showing symptoms. We had characters like Sloane who even got turned after clinical death - so at this point, Blaine's probably pretty fit to withstand some throat cutting.
Now this leaves us with two working theories:
Either: Blaine doesn't know he's a zombie again. And really thought he was going to die in the forest, up until the point at least that he survived having his throat cut or until he found himself buried alive and started digging his way back up. The latter probably being the most terrifying option. (Also: this had me thinking about how something very similar happened to Liv - she fell off the boat in the Pilot episode - and then she wakes up in a body bag. Which most likely means she died of drowning.)
Or: He did know.
Unlike most people who get turned, Blaine already knows the signs. That's personally the theory that I'm partial to. The biggest reason being that one episode later, he actually argues in favour of letting Mr Boss continue to think that he's dead - so getting abducted and faking his death actually played pretty well into his hands. Also, he very abruptly switches subjects from drinking to sleeping with Candy. And not only is infecting people kind of Blaine's thing - he also now has the perfect alibi of allegedly not knowing that he's contagious again. He gets to tie Candy to him and his business (and his brains) with perfect plausible deniability if he says he didn't know he was a zombie again. Sure, there might be some hard feelings but what can she really do? She's gonna need the brains. That's a pretty classic Blaine plan.
(there is also the third option - which is that he can tell that he's turning back but because this round of zombificiation is very different from his first one he can't really tell what's happening to him or where he's at. So if he suspects that he's turning but can't really tell what's going inside his body at this point - sleeping with Candy is still a good strategy to find out (because either she turns and he knows he's a zombie again AND he pretty much guaranteed her loyalty to his brain business OR she doesn't turn - and he at least got some nookie out of it. Plus, she's probably more likely to go along with that than with experimental scratching or blood-sharing.)
Either way, they gave him an incentive not to reveal his reversion, if he noticed it, to Candy - and we know he actively wanted to make Mr Boss believe that he's dead so he doesn't really have much incentive to put up a big fight or reveal himself or go into rage state either, during his abduction. (In this context it's interesting to point out that neither in the car nor in the woods do they have a gun to his head. So if he knows he's a zombie and he actively wanted to get away, his odds would actually have been higher taking his chances with a surprise tackle and a jump out of the car than letting them bring him wherever they're bringing him.
Which then brings me to his 'execution':
Another thing that stands out is that there isn't a lot of blood for someone who had just had his jugular cut, even after several seconds of lying in the grave.
There is the Doylist interpretation (tv restrictions) and the Watsonist one - he's a zombie, so obviously he doesn't bleed much. Though, on iZombie these explanations often go hand in hand and the zombie-thing is a way of having the characters suffer severe injuries without too much gore going on. The reason I'm bringing this up is that - if this is considered weird inside the reality of the show (the Watsonist level), then there is a surprising lack of reaction from the three seasoned murderers witnessing this scene. No one going "Wait why isn't he bleeding properly???"
On the other hand, pretty much the same gambit works on the same people from Don E at the end of the season and he canonically is a zombie, so it seems fair to attribute this to their expectation that someone who has his throat cut and is not moving is probably dead enough.
So that's that for Mr Boss' guys, but the real question is -
what's going on with Blaine.
Now, throughout the show, we see several zombies suffer severe throat injuries. (And in fact, several of those people are Blaine because he's just such a popular guy) We have our poor pal Luta, who got stabbed into side of his neck with a Balisong -
Luta ends up almost completely losing his voice from this, something that doesn't really seem to add up in light of the healing abilities of the other zombie characters, but I'm willing to ascribe it to his vocal cords healing back together wrong or scarring in a way that makes it difficult to produce sound which is a condition that normal humans can get from as much as over-using their voice. Since we saw the wound having formed a scar in a later episode, I think that's as good an explanation as any.
Our biggest example would be Dino who literally gets beheaded -
(and that's one I really don't know how to explain beyond being an example of the extreme durability of zombies. But still, there is no way to make sense of this physiologically. You need lungs to produce sound or to speak.)
But the most obvious example...would still be Blaine himself because we see him get shot, stabbed, impaled through his throat and whatnot:
In Eat A Knievel, he gets shot through the throat and basically shows hardly any physical reaction at all:
And then, just a few episodes later -
They actually put a ...kind of popping sound-effect over this that I interpret as indicating a bone/spinal injury but again, there isn't much of a physical reaction beyond entering zombie-mode - something that didn't happen on either of the other occasion (maybe a reaction to the pin still being stuck inside?)
Anyway, both of these injuries are definitely much more severe than having his throat just cut - which really just relies on the rapid drop in blood pressure and the blood loss to kill you. Both of which don't really matter much for zombies (and, as I said, considering the lack of blood loss in the forest- scene, that probably wasn't much of an issue any more at this point/stage of re-zombification.)
So yeah, assuming all that, let's remember our two (and a half) options for the forest-scene: Blaine knows he's a zombie/He doesn't know/He suspects it.
Either Blaine doesn't know/isn't sure he's a zombie at this point - then this is the point where he definitely would find out. In that scenario, he'd actually think/consider the chance that he might be dying when he gets his throat slit, maybe react to the pain or enter some state of shock.
Considering that we still see a little bit more blood on him in the forest scene as compared to the other occasions, his cardiovascular system might still not have returned to zombie-baseline entirely and have supported his body somewhat. In which case maybe he is experiencing the symptoms of blood loss or rapid drop in blood pressure - but less severely/fatally - which might explain weakness or even unconsciousness. In which case he really would be waking up underground OR while they're filling up the grave.
On the other hand, if he's far enough along into rezombification (and possibly even aware of it) - - -
He could just be faking the whole thing. He might really just be faking the neck-clutching, the unconsciousness. In fact, considering the level of drama he has falling into that grave and his history/future of faking stuff, I wouldn't put this past him.
But this interpretation also adds a whole new level of insanity to what's happening. Now, I don't know how long it really would take to fill up a grave (and I suspect it has a lot to do with ground conditions and what not) but ...I suspect it does take a while, even for two dudes. Let's give it more than half an hour. Especially considering they do a pretty good job with that grave (until Blaine breaks through the ground again, the spot looks perfectly smooth and untouched).
This means, Blaine would not only have been inside his grave, digging his way up for about 12 hours - he was also fully conscious and playing dead while he was getting buried. That would mean he was just lying there while they shovel several hundred kilogrammes of dirt on top of him. Apparently being very optimistic that he will be able to dig his way out (before he goes Romero).
He did manage, I guess. But it's still a gamble.
So that's...just there.
But that also raises the question: If he knows or is beginning to suspect or realise that he's a zombie again - what exactly is stopping him from putting an end to this? I doubt that they kept a gun trained on a dead body that whole time. And with everyone busy with shovelling and he himself being a zombie, that would have been the perfect opportunity to get out of that situation. He could just enter rage mode and maul them. Actually, this was so far my biggest argument against Blaine knowing that he's a zombie or against him being actually conscious while getting buried - and again, that's just all personal speculation.
But I still wondered: Wouldn't it have been more useful to him to just kill Mr Boss there and then rather than fake his own death? In fact, it's just three dudes, he's a zombie, two are probably busy digging. And they're already in the most secluded area that he could ever hope to get Stacey in. There's even a grave ready to throw them into.
Except, then I realised something else -
So at this point, if something happens to Mr Boss, he'd lose his immunity - which is the only thing keeping Clive and Dale from putting into prison for 10 years for his old drug charges. (And I guess he loses access to Peyton which we know he also isn't hyped for). So yeah, that makes Mr Boss more useful for him alive than dead - as long as Boss in turn thinks Blaine's dead.
And on a completely related but also wildly different note:
(and this is where I abandon speculation and interpretation in favour of completely making things up) I talked about how being buried alive for a whole night, desperately trying to dig yourself up for hours would probably be a highly traumatising experience for a person. Like...that's the kind of shit that gives you a lifetime of claustrophobia one might imagine.
But the really interesting thing is, Blaine loves to threaten to do this to other people:
I mean, he really likes doing that - especially with the added threat of burying people alive in them. Or unalive. For all eternity. Now I hear you say 'well, he has a funeral home now, so that's probably convenient to dispose of them that way'.
But let me provide a counter-argument:
Shit's expensive.
He specifically mentions that Mr Boss' casket is mahogany. He has a human-sized freezer in the basement, he could be giving him the same treatment he did Major in season 1 (which was also a confined space he locked him into, mind you). He also has a human-sized incinerator where he can dispose of bodies. And a giant collection of tools to cut into and rearrange bodies with. But no, his favourite torture method is really that: Locking people into small spaces and abandoning them. Even dumping Angus into the well holds up with that.
In fact, when it comes to actually torturing Angus into changing his will in The Whooper - he let's Chief and Candy do that - while he walks away.
Now, with Angus, it's all a lot more direct and intentional - Blaine even spells it out himself in that scene:
It's revenge for ignoring his pleas for help when he was a child. So he's now ignoring his father while Chief and Candy can do whatever they like with him and he's going to ignore it in turn. I mentioned in another post how a lot of Blaine's anger at Angus is actually less about the physical abuse his father put him through - but he seems at least much, if not more, occupied with feelings of betrayal and abandonment due to his father's absences and disregard for him.
And in fact, it makes a lot of sense considering that he was (intentionally or not) abandoned by both his parents - his mother because she withdrew more and more from her husband's abuse and Angus because he's...well, Angus. Not to mention his grandfather being institutionalised which probably also meant losing access to him. Heck, damn kid even lost his dog which was probably the only living being still left who paid attention to him at home.
A lot of the stuff we learn about that Blaine did in his childhood (like stealing his mother's beloved earrings - instead of literally anything else on their fucking estate he could have sold) really resonate as a bid for attention more than anything. And it's pretty much a behaviour that continues into adulthood - from the way he inflicts himself on Liv and Ravi sometimes, the way he keeps bragging and lying to Al Bronson about how popular and happy he is, the way he starts being drawn in by his father actually showing an interest in him in season 4, the way Major manages to get his attention with promises of statues and schools named after him - he just really, really likes being noticed, whether that be in a good or a bad way. - - - so the threat of burying someone alive somewhere for all eternity and no one will ever know about their suffering - actually seems like he's subconsciously drawing on his own experiences of something he experienced as particularly terrifying and torturous as a child: His suffering being ignored.
Now add to that his very specific love of torturing people by forcing them into confined spaces for as long as he feels like it -
(again, I'm all out on the limb of speculation here but I don't look a gift parallel in the mouth.)
So yeah, 12 hours in a hole digging his way up or being forgotten out there and going Romero in the ground.
I don't think that was fun for him.
And then it's never mentioned again because...this is not all that deep, okay??? I'm normal about this.
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Can I request a fluff Drabble or smth with Connor Walsh where he’s struggling with a case and than his 4-6 year old kid points out something about the case that helps Connor solve it and he’s just really proud of them?<333
Aww sure thing, darling! Enjoy the drabble 💕
Father-son relationship: Connor & Child Character [How To Get Away With Murder]
Warnings: None :)
Genre: Domestic/Family Fluff
Summary: see request above
This was the type of case that got everyone fuming. Literally everyone. Yes, even the too-cool-to-care Frank. How did Annalise pick this one out of all the cases that she rifled through this week? It's almost as though she wanted to make them suffer because she dropped the case on the K5 and hasn't made an attempt to help them ever since. She proclaimed she had some work of her own to do therefore wouldn't tolerate anyone trying to bother her.
That's left the five students with plenty of research work to do, work they inevitably caved and started taking home with them. It's a guessing game how much of it they actually get done with all the distractions they have at home, but unlike the others, Connor gets a pass for that one. Rightfully so, because the man has a lot more responsibility than his colleagues.
He has a toddler to be looking after all on his own while his partner is on a trip provided by the establishment where they've been interning.
"Alright buddy, it's you and me against this fu...." Connor cuts himself off on time, "...damn case. Come on."
With that, he sits the five-year-old in his lap, turning the TV to a cartoon channel as to keep his son entertained while he rifles through a few more files before calling it a night and turning to watch cartoons himself.
He's just flipped to the page of the file with the press-taken pictures of the day of the first trial taken outside the courthouse. Most of them have captured the plaintiff and the defendant along with his previous lawyer.
Basically, this man's wife is suing him for supposedly embezzling portion of her half of their joint company's income. He's sworn up and down to every tabloid, every journalist and even everyone in the Keating office that he's had nothing to do with the embezzlement that has been proven to actually be taking place behind the scenes.
As Connor's reading the recounts of what went on before, during and after that trial, a little finger lands on top of the attached picture up above the typed out writing.
Looking up, Connor chuckles to himself, seeing that his son is pointing to the bright red jacket the defendant's wife - or now presumably ex-wife, is wearing. "You like that jacket huh?"
Turning the page, he's met with the pictures of the second trial that happened within months of the previous and was the last one the defendant attended with that lawyer who claimed he was a lost cause and dropped him before her career could get ship-wrecked. Why he waited four months before contacting Annalise is a mystery but, if Connor's to be asked, he believes the man is actually guilty. They've brought up too much concrete evidence for him not to be. And he knew that. But he's now restored his determination to not pay the large sum he'll be owing his wife (ex-wife) if she wins the lawsuit.
As he's reading through the recounts, his son once again takes it upon himself to point at one of the pictures that are pinned at the top of the document. His dad has an idea of what he's pointing at before he even looks up, "Ok, ok, I promise to get you that jacket for your next birthday." It's only after he looks up that he realizes that although his son's pointing at the same jacket as before, it now resides on a different body - the attorney's.
"Wait a second..." He mumbles, aware that he's grasping at straws here. There's a big possibility they both own the same or similar jacket. Which is exactly why he quickly flips back to the previous pictures to compare the two.
It's the exact same jacket. It's the same fucking jacket, holy shit!
An emblem of the designer on the bottom of the right side - check!
An identical seemingly cigarette burn mark on the left sleeve - check!
An indent in the leather around the collar - check!
"Oh my fucking God! They were working together!" Not minding his vocabulary anymore, Connor carefully picks up his son and sets him down on the couch next to the file as he dashes to grab his phone and dial Frank. While it's ringing, he makes a point to kneel before his son and give him a kiss on the forehead, "You, sir, just saved your dad's life. You're getting ice-cream tonight."
"You're buying me ice-cream, Walsh?" Frank, who picked up a moment sooner than Connor expected, says with upmost confusion.
"No, but I think I just solved your case. Sorry, we just solved your case." He quickly corrects himself before sharing a high-five with his son.
#how to get away with murder fanfic#how to get away with murder#connor walsh#connor walsh fanfic#connor walsh x you#connor walsh x reader#connor walsh fanfiction#connor walsh x y/n#connor walsh fic#connor walsh headcanons#connor walsh imagine#connor x you#connor x reader#connor fanfiction#connor fanfic#connor imagine#htgawm#fic#fanfic#fanfiction#fuff#reader#x reader#headcanons#drabble#request
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Thicker than blood - 8
Here we go with another chapter.
CW: murder, dead bodies and blood.
At the scream they both jumped down the parapet and followed the shouts and the scent of blood. The scene was not very far and once they got there they saw a woman kneeling beside the body of a blonde victim.
Rowan looked at her and recognised the face.
“Is this the woman who was all over you a while ago? The one you brushed off with the gay lie?”
Rowan nodded.
Aelin kneeled against the friend in shock while Rowan called his unit.
“What’s your name?”
“Frances.”
“Do you know her?”
The dark-haired woman nodded “she is my friend. She disappeared for almost a week and then I was leaving the club tonight, I turned the corner and I found her body.” Aelin hugged the woman who started sobbing hard while pushing down her instincts. She smelled of alcohol and her neck was close to her mouth. She smelled so good.
Aelin pulled back abruptly with the excuse that she had to have a look at the body.
Police arrived within minutes and started to push people away, but Rowan took over as soon as he came back from his call.
“Agent Whitethorn, paranormal unit.”
“Well, agent, this is a human we have here so not your turf.”
Rowan growled and Aelin walked to him. She knew the cop. Chaol was a jumped up arsehole and one of those humans who did not like vampires.
“Westfall, go back eating doughnuts.”
“Sardothien, why don’t you go back and play fake doctor in your morgue?”
Aelin almost jumped at him but Rowan grabbed her and shook his head.
A cop woman had taken the distressed friend away and Aelin kneeled beside the corpse.
“Stay away from that body, this is a crime scene.”
“And I am a ME. She will end up on my table anyway.”
Rowan kneeled at her side and Aelin asked the paramedic for a pair of gloves.
“Rowan…” she pointed at the arm and they saw the same marks of the other victims.
“She is very pale.”
Aelin chuckled “that is normal, you idiot.” Aelin did some tests “she has been dead for at least four hours, rigor mortis is progressing already,” she explained “also, she did not die here.”
Rowan stared at her in shock.
“See her position?”
He nodded.
“After death the muscles relax. When rigor sets in the muscles contracts due to ATP loss. It usually starts around two hours after death. This woman’s rigor mortis is not that advanced yet. So yeah probably four hours.”
“What about the being moved thing?”
“The position could not have been maintained with regular muscle activity because of gravity. Meaning she died somewhere else and was dumped here.”
Aelin was conducting a few more tests when voices reached her “Stay away from that body.”
She turned and saw a giant of a man with dark hair followed by three more men.
“This is a crime scene.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
He glared at her.
“Celaena, he is my boss. Lorcan Salvaterre.”
So that was Lorcan, eh?
“Did you touch the body? Move it?”
Aelin stood and faced him head on “I am not stupid, Salvaterre. I have not touched it, I know forensics needs to take pictures, and I have gloves, you moron.”
Rowan’s mouth fell open. No one had ever called or spoken to Lorcan like that.
“Who are you?”
“Celaena Sardothien, ME at your service. Not my first rodeo.” At his back she noticed the blond young man bend his hands in a heart shape and she almost laughed. The other two stared at her in disbelief.
Lorcan grabbed Rowan and walked away and Aelin remained with the other two agents.
“Marry me…” said the blonde guy “I am Fenrys.”
She stopped. Fenrys, the man with the twin in a deviation centre. Fuck. Fuck.
Aelin extended her hand “Celaena.”
“Do you realise you are the first person who had the guts to call Lorcan a moron?”
She laughed “believe me I was verging towards asshole, but I gave him the benefit of the first time.”
“You are still my hero.”
“These are Vaughan and Gavriel, by the way.” She shook hand with all of them and then excused herself and joined Rowan and his boss. Something that Lorcan did not appreciate.
“This is police business.”
“Yes, and soon you will be banging at my door asking for the result of the autopsy.”
“And why would I do that? The woman has been drained. Rogue vampire.”
Aelin rolled her eyes “Whitethorn, you tell him, I fear I might use far too many swear words and hurt his ego.”
Rowan explained his boss all of his theory and the possible link with three murders.
“You boys keep chatting. I am taking a ride with the coroner and go to the morgue and start working.”
Lorcan ordered her to have the autopsy on his desk by morning and Aelin replied with a middle finger.
“Can we trust her?”
“She is good at her job.”
Lorcan raised an eyebrow “Go to the morgue and stay there until you have the report.”
Rowan gave him a mocking bow “yes, my lord and master.”
*
Once at the morgue Aelin got ready to work again. She tied her hair in a high pony tail and wore all of her gear. The friend had talked to the police and confirmed the name of the victim was Remelle La Fleur, 32. According to the friend she had disappeared a week before, something else she had in common with Lyria and Kaltain.
Aelin took pictures of the marks on her arm that matched the other two bodies.
Same clean cuts that in this woman’s case were far lees healed. Much fresher.
Then she smelled her and the same scent hit her. This time she had managed to get an almost fresh victim and hoped to be able to collect more info compared to Kaltain who had been dead for too long already.
Aelin was examining the hand when she spotted something under her fingernail. With practiced skill she started removing whatever it was when Rowan entered the room.
“Oh good you just started.”
“Most people would be disgusted.”
He took a seat un a high stool at the other side and looked at her working.
“Remelle has fought. I found something under her nails.”
“Any idea what it is?”
“Not until I ran tests.”
He stood in silence and watched as Aelin slowly opened up the woman’s chest.
“She has the same chemical scent.”
Aelin went to extract blood from the femoral artery and then proceeded with some urine samples.
As she analysed the body she took notes and Rowan was fascinated by how methodical she was. Aelin had always appeared to him as chaotic but while at work she was a complete different person. It was intriguing.
“Damn it.”
“What?”
“Her liver damage is far more extensive than the two previous victims. It’s strange because it looks like they disappeared for the same length of time. Do you think it’s kidnapping?”
“I have no idea.”
“It can’t be for organs because they have them all. But the three of them were all drained. Human blood bags?”
Rowan flinched.
“It happened. Dorian told me he was dragged in a club were humans were paid handsomely to have vampires to feed on them.”
“Interesting friends you have there.”
“He fled as soon as he realised what it was. Dorian is a cinnamon roll.”
“We know the club in this case. They all had been to the Vaults.” He explained pointing at the stamp on the woman’s hand.
“Maybe we should go and have a look.”
Rowan shook his head “it’s a very exclusive club. You only enter by invite.”
Aelin swore as she weighed the liver.
“Any chance that Dorian has a friend who can let us in?”
She laughed “Dorian is a very upstanding citizen now, he even converted to synthetic blood.”
Rowan did not miss how she flinched at the admission.
It took Aelin over two hours to finish the autopsy and at the end Rowan noticed her exhaustion and her sweating. He had not missed her panic when she hugged the human.
“I should take you home.”
Aelin shook her head “No…”
He walked closer and brushed her damp hair away from her face “you are having withdrawal symptoms.”
“I haven’t…” she struggled to speak “I haven’t touched spiked blood in a week.”
“I know,” he held her “but I saw you with the human.”
Rowan easily lifted her in his arms and grabbed the folder with her report.
He finally convinced her to give him her address after she told him she had bags of blood in the fridge.
Once in the flat he switched on the lights and walked to the living room. Her house was modern with a very personal touch. He gasped when he saw a hockey club attached to the wall and an autographed t-shirt in a frame.
“You like hockey?”
“Like a religion,” she managed with difficulty.
He smiled and took her to the bedroom. He looked around and found her pj on top of the pillow.
He walked out while she changed and went to get her blood. The fridge had a few bags in. He took one and poured it in a glass. They were all A positive. He had forgotten how the different blood types tasted.
In a drawer he found a hard plastic straw with an umbrella. He added it to the glass for a classy touch and went back to her.
Aelin was on the floor and had been sick. Fuck.
“Hey, I got you” Rowan placed the glass on the nightstand and grabbed her in his arms and ran to the bathroom. She was burning up.
In a panic he opened the shower on the cold setting and placed her underneath. He removed his trousers and t-shirt and in just his boxers he joined her and pulled his mate to his chest.
“You tried to quit cold turkey…”
Aelin nodded weakly.
“But without feeding regularly.”
He knew something was wrong the moment he saw her earlier on. She looked gaunt and her eyes were dull.
She kept shaking and folded over once more with cramps. It had only been a week and it was about to get worse.
He pushed her face in the crook of his neck “drink from me, please.”
She shook her head.
“Aelin, this will help so much.”
“Not fair.” She whispered.
His hand cupped her cheek “I can live with that.”
He felt her kiss his neck gently and he pushed her closer in an invitation. She hesitated so Rowan closed the water and lifted her again, grabbed a towel placing it around her shoulder. Then ran to her bedroom and grabbed some clean clothes.
“I brought you a dry pyjama.”
Rowan turned away and let her change.
“I am all decent,” she called in a broken voice.
Rowan walked to the bedroom and pushed her down in bed and lay at her side and pulled her closer.
“Much better and romantic right?”
Aelin let out a weak chuckle and resumed her position with her face in the crook of his neck. Her hand landed on his chest and brushed his skin, tracing the tattoo on his pec, chest and arm. The man was stunning.
“If we do this there’s no coming back.”
He kissed her head “If we don’t, I am scared for you.”
Aelin sighed and contemplated what she was about to do. She was committing to him forever, not even knowing if they had a chance. They did nothing but fight, but somehow they had a connection.
A kiss where his pulse was stronger and inhaled his scent of pine and snow. He smelled like home. Like the woods she loved so much.
Rowan started humming and held her stronger “restaurant is open, go eat.” Aelin chuckled then her fangs started to brush his neck and he groaned in pleasure.
Then she did it. Her fangs pierced his neck and as soon as the blood hit her mouth she felt a deep energy hit her. His blood warming her body and somehow dispelling the darkness that had taken root a long time ago. Her hands roamed his chest and other feeling started to arise. Then Rowan bit her too and as he did, something powerful bound them together. Their souls entwining in an immortal promise, with every passing minute. Aelin detached and tried to find his mouth and kissed him. Rowan rolled over her and deepened the kiss as his hands started to rover her frame. His body was on fire with passion “are you okay?”
“Kiss me again, Whitethorn.”
And he did, devouring her mouth like a starved man. And then the passion finally exploded and their bodies close together for the final claiming and as they joined in flesh they drank from each other again until their souls became one.
*
Aelin lay sprawled on his chest kissing it softly while his hand brushed her hair gently.
“Do you feel better?”
She nodded eagerly “no more cramps or crazy cravings.”
He laughed and pulled her on top of him “I told you it would work.”
She sat up straddling him “Rowan, we are married now,” he did not miss the panic in her voice.
His hands landed on her hips with a soft touch “nothing has to change. You can keep your life and your flat. I am here when you need me but nothing has to change.”
She caressed his face “Maybe we can start slowly. You can take me out.”
He pulled her back down, their naked bodies brushing against each other “Whatever you feel okay with.”
She snuggled against him “stay here tonight?”
Rowan grabbed the blanket and pulled it on top of them both “Sleep now.”
TAGS:
@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @acreativelydifferentlove @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin
#rowaelin#aelin x rowan#rowan x aelin#rowaelin fanfic#rowaelin fanfiction#aelin galathynius#rowan whitethorn#vampires#vampires au#hurt/comfort
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Biter | Remington x Vera
Masterlist
A/N: Hi babes, I got around to making work out of this submission. Hope you all like it, I really do ☺️
Warnings: strong language, heavy smut, teeny tiny angst if you squint, Vera's a brat and Remington's a brat tamer
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Vera cocked her head, as if that attempt would let her see out and around the popped hood of the car. Behind it was Remington, checking the engine, even though she was certain he wasn't able to fix what was wrong as much as she could tell what was wrong. She fanned her face with her hand, the air heavy and wet from the passing rain storm.
Heavy clouds blotted out the rising moon, casting bleary dark shadows across the expansive desert landscape.
As mush as Vera wanted to blame Remington for all of this, she knew it wasn't entirely his fault...
It wasn't though Vera didn't know what she signed up for. Remington was charismatic, a natural flirt, he came by it honestly. She'd made jokes about it to her friends. Though at the same time, she made comments because she knew Remington was a decent man. He wouldn't intentionally hurt her and despite the rumour on the street, he wasn't a womanizer.
But flirting? Absolutely within his wheelhouse, as easy as breathing, practically automatic when he was in a crowd. It was an innate power he'd learned to use if needed, he had put it to use when they first met after all.
She didn't peg Remington to be manipulative, but rather, so genuinely captivating that it knocked people's defences right down. And because it came so naturally to him, it flew over his head whenever it was thrown right back at him.
It had taken Vera a long time to realize that her friend, Daniella, was not as genuine as she put made out to be -- especially when she spent half of this party flirting with Vera's boyfriend. What aggravated Vera more was that Remington completely ignored it -- either he didn't realize it or it didn't bother him enough to say anything.
Deep down, she knew he probably didn't think much of it; it didn't merit causing a scene when it meant nothing to him, he was with Vera after all. But that wasn't how it felt and she couldn't stand the look on Daniella's face, that it seemed like she was getting away with murder. Like she actually had a shot with Vera's boyfriend.
Grabbing her sneakers, Vera abruptly decided she was leaving, the front door closing all the way before Remington realized she disappeared. He hopped to pull his own shoes on, haphazardly closing the door as she hit the sidewalk.
"Vera!"
She let out a huff, "Fuck it,"
Harsh? Absolutely, but she was feeling particularly vicious, deciding that the rain had let up enough that she could walk home. It was probably a twenty minute venture at most. The clouds were still hanging low int he sky, threatening to spill over without warning.
"What are you doing?"
She motioned to the sidewalk, "I'm gonna' perform a river dance," she snapped, "What does it look like? I'm going home before I say something I'll likely regret,"
She began walking, satisfied she had made her peace with the conversation... at least until they both got home. But she reckoned she ought to know better, because she knew Remington better, because she heard him running up behind her.
"C'mon, it's gonna start raining any second -- get in the car," he reached for her hand but she batted him away.
"Why don't you go see if Daniella needs a ride?" she bit back.
He rolled his eyes, "This wouldn't be a problem if you weren't making it a fucking problem," he replied.
She scoffed out with a laugh because -- seriously? She didn't bother wasting her time with a response, shaking her head as she kept walking. Though suddenly he jumped in front of her, crouching down to pick her up and throwing her over his shoulder.
"What the fuck!?" she struggled, "Put me down! Remington!" she hit at his back.
This was so ridiculous and if she wasn't so pissed off, this situation might actually be comical. Remington was tall, this was a piece of cake, and it's nothing he hadn't done before. He thought that this was some sort of plan -- putting her in the car like the baby she was pouting as. There had been plenty of times when he'd had her in his arms and she'd enjoyed it.
This wasn't one of them.
"Remi -- I'm fucking serious --!"
"Just get in the car and shut up. I'm not letting you walk home --"
Vera was seeing red, she didn't even realize what she was doing until she did it, dipping her head down and her teeth clamped down on his hand. Remington yelped out, instantly losing his balance and she slipped out of his grasp, falling onto the pavement. She sat up, flustered but amused knowing no one would believe her if she tried to talk about how this night was playing out.
"You fucking bit me!" he gaped, almost in disbelief, definitely angrier than before, "I can't believe you fucking bit me, are you serious!?"
Vera let out a sharp laugh, "You dropped me," she sneered, pushing her long hair out of her face, "I told you to put me down,"
"And so you bite me instead?" he asked, completely flabbergasted at her childishness.
"Fuck around and find out," she shrugged back.
They both paused when they heard another voice behind them.
"You two good?"
There was another partygoer on the steps of the house, clearing having watched their bullshit play out. Remington and Vera glanced at one another, exhaled heavily. He straighten his shoulders, still shaking out his hand and she nodded curtly to the stranger.
"Yeah," she replied as he muttered out a "Fine"
The partygoer didn't appear overly convinced, but he left them alone and started walking in the other direction.
Remington glanced back at the car, wincing as he felt a drop of water bounce off his nose. He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly to regain his composure, "Why does everything have to be a battle with you?"
"Just lucky I suppose," she tossed back.
He shook his head at her, "You gonna' stand up or what?"
Vera smirked, her anger dissipating into a mischievous mood as she held out her hands, and he obliged her as he hauled her to her feet. Her nose collided with his chest and he held her tightly in his arms, fingernails pressing into her skin. The look in his eyes was stern, his brown eyes darkened almost to jet black, annoyed with her clearly but he still cared deeply for her.
"You're mine," he whispered, his words raspy, shallow, "But in that same scenario I also belong to you. Nobody else matters to me but you, V,"
She believed him, he had proven himself to her time and time again and no matter how angry she wanted to be, he could always melt her resolve.
Maybe... just maybe... she had overreacted a little, "Fine. I'm sorry I yelled at you,"
"And?"
"And what?"
"You sorry for biting me?"
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips, "Nope,"
He scoffed back, nonetheless he too started to smile. His baby was a firecracker, stubborn and hot headed and sometimes she could fly off the rails. But Vera was always going to be his baby.
"Brat," he simpered, "Would you like to go back inside? Or should we go home?"
"What's going to happen if we stay?" she pouted at him.
"I'm going to stick to you like glue, that's what," he replied proudly.
"And if we go home?"
Remington took in every detail of her, the fullness of her red lips and the slight blush on her cheeks. So soft and delicate and all his. Always his.
He brought his lips down to her hear, his words teetering on a whisper, "If we go right now, I won't prolong your punishment,"
A spark of excitement flooded through her belly, she smiled cheekily.
"Answer, V. Uses your words," Remington moved her hair behind her ear, his fingers traced along the line of her jaw, his thumb brushed at her bottom lip, "You know your punishment will only get worse,"
Not falling into her temptation was almost a crime. Especially as Vera stretched her neck, lips lingering just one millimeter away from his.
She gave him his answer as she pulled away, starting for the shotgun seat of his car.
Remington hopped in the car, turned up the heat and began to drive. Despite his promises he drove a little slower, prolonging her wait on purpose. His hand stayed on her thigh on the drive.
Vera let out a small breath, looking out the window -- she had always been fond of storm clouds. Of course, as much as the rain was necessary for the usually dry climate, the flooding was also treacherous if you weren't used to it. Nevertheless, watching rains pour out of the Nevada desert was always breathtakingly striking.
A shiver ran down her spine and Vera reached for the heat dial but Remington's hand was already moving, making sure that the vents were pointing in her direction. He was annoying, cocky, and hard headed, but he was always considerate of her.
They both jumped when they heard a sharp popping noise, followed by sputtering. Both hands gripped the wheel tightly as Remington pulled off to the side of the road just and the car slowed to a halt.
Shit.
"You okay?" Remington asked her.
"Yeah -- what happened?" he attempted to start the engine once, twice, but it had stalled. He hummed back an answer as he jumped out of the car, "Where are you going? I'll just call a tower,"
But he was a mechanic, he worked on these problems all the time, he didn't need a tow truck. The only thing was that he didn't have any tools with him to fix whatever had busted under his hood.
Vera had seen enough horror movies that started out this way -- stranded car, dead of night, nobody around... she frowned as she took a longer look out the window, assessing their surroundings as she took got out of the car.
She came around to stand beside him, staring cluelessly at the car parts, "Can you fix it?"
"Of course I can fix it," he nodded.
She stared curiously at him, "You don't have your tools, do you?"
"Nope," he slammed the car hood down, looking around their area. Home wasn't far, maybe another ten minute walk, doable, "Fuck it, we'll walk,"
They began to walk down the road, passing the odd house that would eventually lead them back to their neighbourhood. Remington winced and looked down at their joined hands, a soft laugh slipped out of Vera's lips, "Sorry, that the bad hand?"
"I can't believe you drew blood,"
"I did not," she chuckled back, "Drama queen,"
"Rriiiiigghhtt," he smirked, "I'm the drama queen,"
Her best response was to stick her tongue out at him.
The good news was it didn't take too long to get back home. The bad news was the rain had indeed returned halfway, pouring down on them like hellfire. Remington and Vera ran as fast as they could until they came up to their walk.
Remington ransacked his pockets for the keys and she shook out her damp hair, running inside and shaking the cold off as best as they could.
"I'll get the towels," she remarked, kicking off her sneakers and running for the linen closet. Having a heat system in Nevada wasn't so much of a necessity, but boy, did Remington wish they'd invested in one. But their one saving grace was a fireplace; he lit a match and stoked the wood until the embers burned and the flames flickered.
Vera returned a moment later, damp, small, clutching towels to her chest. She was adorable, so mean and vicious one moment and the next she was staring at him like a bright-eyed bunny rabbit.
"God, look at you," he murmured, taking the towels and draping one over her shoulders, "Warm enough?"
She nodded, "You?"
He hummed lightly, hands moving against her arms under the towel, "I'll warm up plenty," he watched her for a long moment, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, "I'm sorry about before, with Daniella,"
She let out a soft noise that sounded like a strangled chuckle, "You're just saying that because you want to kiss me," a small joke, but she did hear the genuine inflection in Remington's tone.
He smiled, "Maybe," he pecked her temple and her eyes fluttered shit. Remington drew her thumb along her jawline, his other resting on her waist, "I mostly ignore her when she starts like that," which was something Vera considered, "But I didn't realize it bothered you,"
"It does bother me," she lifted her chin to look up at him. And she realized that this was a conversation she really needed to have with her friend, since she was the one who always started this mess in the first place.
Remington nodded, "Won't happen again, hand of God,"
And despite how much she wanted to pout, she couldn't quite do it standing before him, the shadows from the fire flickered on the strong lines of his face, the sharp edges. She licked her lips, glancing at his, and she kissed him.
"Should I help you warm up?"
He smirked against her mouth, his hands slipped up under her shirt.
It didn't take very long to lose their clothing, Remington picked her up again only to land on the couch, smothering her with kisses along she shoulders, her breasts, down her sternum and stomach.
She squeezed her thighs together, the simmering heat in her belly spreading thick and heavy like molasses.
"What is it with you picking me up?" she mused curiously.
Remington settled between her legs, grinning coyly, "Like you don't like it,"
The heat of his body along her inner thighs was driving Vera a little crazy and instead of dignifying that comment with a response, she leaned up to kiss him instead. She wanted to touch him, feel every ripple of his muscle shudder under touch, whining as he collected her hands together and forced her arms over her head.
Her hips thrusted against his own, struggling to get loose as he reached for his belt off the floor. She began to laugh.
"You're still gonna' punish me?" she awed, feigning a pout.
He smirked as he tied her wrists together snug, not too tight, not too loose, "You bit me. You think you get to get away with that?"
She turned her head into the cushion, blushing heavily under his sneer. She butt wiggled against the leather, her naked erection rubbing against her hip and she whined, impatient for him, excited all the same.
Remington gently pushed her thighs further apart, licking his lips at the flushed colour between her legs, his fingers slipped inside of her so easily and she squirmed on the spot.
Regardless of how many times they'd fucked, Remington always wanted to stretch her out, making her gasp out, moaning sinfully. Vera never tired of this he was so good at taking his time. He kissed her thighs, plush lips like the softest feathers against her skin, the anticipating pleasure was quickly replaced with a stinging pain as he brought his hand down on her ass. She cried out in surprise.
"Here's the rules. I'm going to play down here for a minute. One whole minute," he ran his hand over the spot he's spanked, caressing it carefully, "You have to count out loud to a minute. If you falter, or stop for whatever reason, you get one of these --" he brought his hand on her cheek again, a filthy sound echoed from the collision. Vera jolted back, not expecting that he'd go hard immediately, "And we have to start all over again. Think you can do it?"
His hardened length was obvious against her hip, but he ignored his own need in favour of grinding his thigh against her. Vera inhaled deeply, her heart racing in her chest but she was excited. She loved taking on a good challenge.
"Bring it on,"
He smirked, hovering right above where she needed him, blowing a puff of hot air over her quivering sex before diving in like a man starved. Vera jolted, he wasn't holding back. His skillful tongue worked over her aching clit with precision, causing her to throw your head back into the pillows and let out a heavy sigh of pleasure.
He spanked her again, took his mouth away.
"Start counting," he ordered, sneaking one finger down to her sopping entrance, using her slick to aid him in sliding it inside of her. She took a deep breath and began counting.
"One... two... three.."
His lips wrapped firmly around her bundle of nerves and he sucked harshly, making her cry out between numbers. He used this momentary distraction to slip a second finger inside her waiting hole, beginning to scissor his fingers inside of her to stretch her out. He made come-hither motions with his dexterous fingers, hitting her g spot repeatedly while never letting up on the assault to her clit, his tongue drawing figure eights on the sensitive bundle.
"... Fourteen... Fifteen... Six -- ah. Owh!"she felt she could jump off the couch as he spanked her again. She couldn't help it, his ministrations took her to another dimension of pleasure. It was then she realized just how hard this was going to be.
"Fuck,"
"Again,"
The cycle repeated, over and over again. Remington used his tongue to destroy her, suckling, nipping, penetrating her, all the while keeping a sharp ear out for her counting. Every pause, every gasp, any flicker of hesitation, she got a smack. And she had to start again. Of course he was the master of teasing her, commenting on her arousal, how good she tasted, how he couldn't wait to be inside of her. All she had to do was count to sixty without pause, and she could have it all.
"... Twenty-nine... thirty... -- fuck!" she cried out when he suddenly flicked her clit hard, continuing to beat down on the sensitive bud as he delivered the next blow. Her skin was beginning to burn, her resolve breaking, tears brimming for the pain and the pleasure.
She couldn't help it when her hips started to move on their own accord to relieve the pressure, but he pinched her hip as a warning, "Hold still," he was staring at her with dark eyes, drunk on lust and power, his lips and chin glistening with her, "You finish one whole round and I'll let you come,"
She wanted to scream, fight back, plead, beg, promise anything so long as he let her off. But she bit her lip, nodding in desperation, and it was enough for Remington go dive back in again, eating her like she was his last meal. It could never be just a taste with Vera, he always needed more of her; her sweetness overpowered his taste buds, her wetness dribbling down his chin, the delicious sounds she's make because of how good he was making her feel. More of her, everything.
"One... two... three... four..."
Staying still was already difficult but Remington tortured her some more, bringing his fingers back to play with her. While he sucked on her fold, two digits teased her entrance, sliding deeper into her.
"... Thirty-one... thirty-two... thirty-three..."
God, she's beautiful, he remarked to himself, all needy and desperate for him; but then again she was always so beautiful. Even when she had a long day at work and her makeup was messy, when she was so fixated on whatever show they were watching, her teeth biting through her lip when they were in the process of a job.
"...Fifty-six... fifty-seven... fifty-eight... fifty-nine... sixty," she let out a heavy gasp, feeling as though she'd just run a marathon. She finally did it. Her soft voice pulled him back to reality, his head momentarily filled with innocent thoughts about how much he loved her while his fingers were still very much scissoring her open, his tongue hammering on her clit.
"Remi, please,"
The smuggest man alive, he sped up his ministrations, revelling in how her moans increased, her body grew taught. His free hand snuck its way from his hip to her bare breast, fondling, teasing one of her nipples as it pebbled up. It felt incredible.
At this point, his cock was so painfully hard against the couch that Remington found himself raising his hips every now and then in shallow trusts, hoping to relieve the throbbing in crotch he wanted to make her come from his mouth first, fucking her later was the prize.
If only she wasn't tied up, Vera could at least stimulate her other breast, not that he wasn't doing his job well, "so close, baby..."
He chuckled darkly, "Come on..." he muttered against her, his tongue flicking her clit repeatedly with his fingers teasing and pinching her nipple, "Come for me. Come all over me, sweet girl,"
With his fingers relentlessly fucking her hole and stimulating her nipples, his tongue hammering down on her, it didn't take long before a white hot heat ripped through her, every part of her body tingled deliciously, his name spilled from her lips as she fluttered around his fingers. She could've cried from the overwhelming pleasure. She gushed and soaked his hand and mouth, but he eagerly lapped it all up, not letting a single drop of her go to waste. He didn't stop fucking her even after her orgasm had ceased and her body began to relax again.
When she came back down, Remington was still slowly, diligently licking her, this time with tenderness and dedication. If she had fucked his face before, now he was making out with her cunt, with tender kisses and fond caresses of his tongue.
“Quite a show, sweet girl,” he murmured. She brought her tied wrists down, smacking his shoulder. He laughed heartily.
He had loved watching her breasts bounce, her head thrown back, her thighs wiggling at the way she was grinding on him. And her face — sweet mercy, her face…
He was lost in her.
"Your brothers are gonna' kill us," she panted, now registering that they were still at the party.
Remington chuckled and shrugged, “They’ll simply be jealous of not having you as theirs,” he reached up to undo the belt, gently bringing her arms back down, "Are you okay?"
"Yes," the first thing she did was bring her hands to his face, pulling him to her for a kiss.
"Was it too much?" he stroked her cheek.
She shook her head, giggling quietly, "I mean -- kind of... but that's the point of punishment, right?" his eyes were clear of his stern demeanour before, no trace of malevolence, only adoration to match his soft, boyish grin.
"Right," he kissed her shoulder, his erection was grinding on her hip. He was needy for her, but he wanted to give her a moment to recover, "Think you can go again?"
"Gimme' two minutes?" she pleaded, batting her lashes at him.
"How about I give you five?"
"Deal," he snuggled up on top of her, his body heat obliterating her in tandem with the heat from the fire. Their lips painted across whatever patches of skin they could reach, hands caressing, soothing over sweaty limbs.
His erection continued to throb against her hip, she took mercy on him, “I’m gonna blow you,” she whispered, more as a declaration than a request.
He whined, but still obliged her as they switched positions, fixing his arms behind his head, getting comfortable, “It’ll be the easiest orgasm ever,”
Vera giggled and settled between his legs, her free hand smoothing over the skin of his hip, “Damn, you’re delicious,” she murmured, staring at him, tracing the pulsating vein crawling up his length.
He hissed and thrusted up.
"Vera?"
"Yes Remington?"
"... Please don't bite me,"
She laughed, wasting no time: she swallowed half of him and grabbed the rest with her hand, drooling aplenty to get some lubrication in her palm.
Three strokes and Remington's hips started gyrating, the salty, bitter flavour of him already hitting her tongue.
“I fucking love you, V,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “I fucking love your sweet cunt on my face and your sweet throat around my cock,” she bobbed her head on him even more enthusiastically, “I love every damn thing about you, baby,"
He was so far gone and she was so helplessly proud of it.
He spilled inside her in a minute, and she took him diligently, not wasting a drop of him.
His orgasm was endless and he was wrecked by the time it ended, oversensitivity making him hiss and fuss.
She gasped out for air, wiping her mouth clean and headed back up, at his side.
As he stared into her eyes, his eyelids lowering sultrily into exhaustion, she pressed your dirty fingers to his lower lip, tracing it enticingly before he parted his lips.
Tentatively, she rolled on top of him before planting her lips on his, pushing her tongue to his mouth until he opened it, allowing her to slide into the cave where he was still treasuring the taste of you. He arched up and wrapped his lips around her tongue, sucking it into his mouth.
It became one more sloppy make out session, where he managed to earn out one more lazy, weak climax as he rubbed himself against her hip.
And then they found themselves laying side by side in the disastrous aftermath of an exceedingly sloppy, wet session of oral sex.
Not even in her worst night Vera had managed to make half the mess she was seeing in that moment.
“We're in trouble,” she commented, Remington peacefully kissing her chest while he breathed in and out, his eyes closed, "We need to clean up before they get home,"
“Just a minute,” he debated before hearing you dissent.
“Come on, baby. You can nap on the tiddies later. Let’s go,”
“I want cuddles,” he spoke through a pout.
That made her heart melt. “I’ll cuddle you after we shower,”
“Can we take a bath instead?”
She chuckled, “We can take a bath, baby,” she kissed the top of his head. She had no idea who was the messier between the two of them at the moment, she only knew it was her turn to take care of her sweet boy tonight.
#palaye royale#remington leith#emerson barrett#sebastian danzig#remington palaye royale#palaye royale imagine#palaye positivity#original story#original female character#band blog#band imagine blog#band imagines#the bastards#fever dream#remington leith imagine#remington leith smut
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So, I triggered a Very Big Post from Angelo and for some reason reading through it my brain kept going to a topic I’ve only hit on like once in a drabble I think but deserves it own post, regarding a Kevin Headcanon.
We all know he has an unhealthy everything. We’ve all seen the boy, he needs a safe place to rest, steady access to food, a nice long nap, and some serious fucking therapy. Well we’re hitting on a specific point here.
Kevin has a unhealthy relationship with his own anger.
Again, we’ve all seen him. Kevin is an angry person (which makes sense, look at his life) with a quick temper and violent impulses. At one point we see him ready and willing to turn another car and it’s occupants into a pile of burning rubble for going slow on an empty road. We know from that same scene that he’s taken anger management courses, though what kind and how effective they were we don’t know. He’s generally the first on the team to go the aggressive route, and repeatedly does so rashly.
But, we also see points where he would be within his rights to get angry and he simply doesn’t, or brushes it off. A big one being when Vulkanus uses him for materials, where he not only lets him walk away but also keep the taedonite he mined off him. Or after Gwen drops him from near the ceiling of a mine during an argument, only for him to later brush off her apology for not listening to him and not even mention the dropped from the ceiling portion of the altercation. Moments where he’s been done wrong and it would well within his rights to get reasonably pissed, but he doesn’t really.
The immediate assumption would be that this is proof the anger management course worked, except the shit with Vulkanus happens before we hear about any anger management, and we hear about it in tandem with, again, Kevin about to launch missiles at another car.
So, alternate theory- Kevin doesn’t so much curb the worst of his temper as he just shoves it into a little box.
It makes sense given his history (how many times do we see his temper serve him well? tends to be shown just fucking shit up), would explain why Kevin ‘I went to beat a kid up for messing with my car’ Levin would just let some objectively worse shit go, and why some of the times we see a real flare of his temper the response is so out of proportion. Such as, say, nearly blowing up another driver, or during the Ultimate Kevin arc when his rampage includes shit like putting a guy in traction over under $10.
Because anger tends to be viewed as a ‘bad’ emotion, but it’s just as neutral as any other and needs to be managed properly. Not having control of your anger is bad and can cause a lot of problems, but repressing it is also an issue. One that can lead to things like blowing up when you finally let loose. In Kevin’s case near literally. Eventually you’re going to hit a wall and that anger is going to go somewhere. Which is why proper anger management involves learning methods of acknowledging and releasing your anger in a healthy way, while shoddier ones can just worsen things like repression.
It also feeds nicely into my things involving Kevin’s very blatant self worth issues and how they make him an easy target for people looking to take advantage of him or who just aren’t treating him right. Because part of the use of anger is to protect yourself, and when you’ve got a history of your anger only making things worse (and it would just get worse as you try to repress and then blow up and form a whole nasty cycle) and issues with your self worth and whether you deserve whatever is done to you, well. Suddenly you can’t let yourself be angry, and when you do there’s a higher chance of you going overboard or hurting someone (including yourself).
Very not healthy, which really just fits with the boy.
#headcanons#also ties into another headcanon of mine- that a notable chunk of kevin's bad relationships have ended because he broke them off#not for his own sake but because he was gonna snap and was worried for the other person's safety if he did#*when* he did really but he hasn't put anybody headfirst into concrete yet so...#(why yes this does line up with that fic from like last week with the break-up)#i probably worded this post horribly but it's a lot of emotions in my head
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Minette Watched The Lord Of The Tides: Assorted Thoughts
- Pretty Thing Of The Episode: Emma! I mean Rhaenyra. I don’t like her dresses, but she herself is absolutely gorgeous. I mean they. But also the character is a she... Jesus, I am trying my best!
- Viserys’ deterioration is actually kind of heartbreaking, even if he kinda has it coming for making Alicent marry him.
- Lots of warm fuzzy feelings and tearjerkers this episode, but Alicent and Rhaenyra expressing their wish to mend ties, only to be reminded immediately that at this point, they can’t, since they already passed their enmity to the next generation, and that war cannot be averted... On the other hand, it was absolutely hilarious to watch a fight break out the second Viserys left the room.
- We were this close to a Daemon-Aemond confrontation! Alas, Daemon’s BDE was just too strong for Aemond, and he chickened out after a firm stare. On the other hand, it is fully within book!Aemond’s character to pick a fight with a literal child, but back off once Daemon Fuck You Targaryen gets involved. Maybe I oversold his coolness in the last episode. Then again, he gives me enough Mercan vibes to somewhat enjoy him as a character.
- The same cannot be said of his majesty Aegon The Trashy, who has shown himself in full glory this episode. God, I hate him. I hate him so much.
- Even worse, he’s dragging Alicent to his level! Like, you can tell she’s trying her best, but she’s also a mother and can’t get son’s dick chopped off, as much as he would deserve it. She sympathizes with Dyanna, but ultimately she’ll aways choose her children over anything and anyone else. As her good friend Larys Strong once said before immolating his own brother and father...
- Rhaenyra, meanwhile, doesn’t face the same dilemma, because her sons have taken after their biodad, and thus are a bunch of hotheaded, but ultimately decent himbos. But her husband is a Daemon Fuck You Targaryen, and she tacitly approves all of his sexy, sexy crimes, so... But I do appreciate that both she and Rhaenys are trying their best to remain relatively decent people in spite of everything. So far the worst crime Rhaenyra is guilty of is gaslighting the entire country, which isn’t great, but it’s not like she has much of a choice here.
- I do think it would be interesting if Rhaenyra herself ordered the maesters to stop medicating her father in order to keep his mind clear, instead of just appealing to him to make the choice himself... But at least we got Viserys’ last hoorah, that’s gotta count for something. And the fact that she ultimately allows him to make that choice does say something about Rhaenyra’s character (and her bond with her father, which - excuse me while I go to my room to cry profusely).
- Speaking of Daemon and his sexy, sexy crimes. I get what Vaemond is trying to do here, but he lost me when he appealed to Otto. Like fuck, man, how can you consider yourself an heir to Corlys Velaryon and then betray his legacy this hard?! Not saying he had that execution coming, I did feel sorry for him at least a little. Also not saying that it wasn’t super sexy of Daemon. “He can keep his tongue.” - Man, you were just ITCHING to do that, weren’t you?!
- Rhaenyra and Rhaenys finally had a proper interaction, and while she wasn’t Rhaenyra’s cool mamma I had hoped she would be, “nuanced enmity” is not a bad relationship, and I get where she’s coming from. I just wish we had two women in this fucking show with just a good, uncomplicated relationship, is all. Just a single scene of Rhaenyra being a good stepmom (/mother-in-law, because Targaryens) to Rhaena and Baela, I’m begging you.
- Oh, Helaena. My girl’s only notable action this episode was to drag her husband for filth, for which she earned my undying love and devotion. God, she deserved better.
- I am not wild about the “Dance was based on a misunderstanding” angle they are going for, but I chose to interpret it as Alicent hearing what she wants to hear, considering Viserys’ ramblings were quite incoherent and damnit, isn’t that a much more interesting option.
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Say Cheese
The music in the club was loud, disgustingly loud, as were the people there. Rich or poor, it didn’t fucking matter. Once the alcohol was in their system, they all were the same. The slurred words, the sweat that was mixed with secondhand smoke. Not that she didn’t do all those things, but when it came to entering the places the French liked to frequently visit, there was just something so much less appealing about it.
Hearing the news about Eva definitely came as a surprise, something unexpected. Especially as it was in London, of all places. What the fuck was she even doing here? Though Ara would never ask, not even inquire. She was taught not to, and also she tended not to care. At least not enough for her to pique interest or to stick her nose where it obviously didn’t belong.
Still, to find out that the woman who had become her mentor, someone she was actually learning things from, the woman who she had taken a liking to was dead? A shock. The kind of where you’d see a character on some shitty TV show die, a twist that you didn’t see coming. In any case, if Eva was dead, shit was about to hit the fan. Without Eva - the Russians lost their most beloved assassin. It was now on her to make sure that the competency gap would be filled.
She spotted him surrounded by some other people, enjoying a few drinks. Clever of him not to go to the usual French places. Clever of him to try to avoid the usual crowds when he wanted to simply have a drink. Clever but not enough.
Mikhail was reported missing; what they found at the scene at the place where he was supposed to land was a bunch of dead Russian liabilities. “There’s hardly a mark on him.” Ara had noted as she moved one of the guards' faces with her foot as they inspected the grounds. Who ever set everything up, really did a fucking awful job. So did the French, as they missed out one camera, which was enough for her to find out at least a few people involved.
Which was how she ended up here, in this club for the rich, with hardly any fucking security.
All she had to do was wait by the men's bathroom, keeping her head down as she waited for the Sebastien to come and relieve himself after digesting probably half the bar and the drugs. The icing on the cake.
He came within the half hour, not stumbling, but also not aware of his surroundings as he entered the bathroom without realising she had followed inside. Ara waited until he started to relieve himself, to add to the fucking embarrassment that she was about to make of him. Not payback, but simply doing her job.
With her gun out, silencer placed on top, Ara fired the first shot into his leg.
“Where’s Mikhail Vorshevsky?” She asked, her tone monotonous, which made her sound almost uninterested, bored.
Sebastien simply swore, letting out a grunt as he stepped away from the urinal, hi hand covering his wound while his dick was fully out. She glanced at him arching her brows before looking up at him as she fired the second shot into his other leg.
“Where’s Mikhail Vorshevsky?”
Some more swearing, falling to the ground, which only got an exasperated sigh from Ara in return. She wasn’t going to ask a third time because it was already clear she was not going to get the answer.
“Right.” was her final response before putting the bullet between his eyes. A dead Frenchman was better than nothing. Looking at the sight before her, she stepped over him, fishing out the wallet from hiss pocket, taking out the cash and his ID. Cash for her, ID for Arkady.
“Smile.” Ara said as she took a picture of them with her phone - Sebastien dead, and Ara pointing her two fingers in a peace sign with a smile on her face. She couldn’t cut him up exactly in the club's toilet, so this was going to have to do.
“Good luck.” Were her last words as she snuck out through the window and disappeared in the streets of London.
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