#righteous brothers second here sorry
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Talk ⎮ Sam Kiszka x Reader
a/n: i've got hozier on the mind, people! sorry! this idea has been banging around in my head for a while, and since i can only write angst, here y'all go (sammy nation, just email me an invoice for your therapy) ((and look at the lyrics to this song!))
thank you @sacredjake for the pic (credit to owner!) and @gold-mines-melting for editing and being my second set of eyes; it truly takes a village lol
pairing: asshole!sam kiszka x fem reader
summary: you hated sam, you really did, but one fateful night he gets under your skin in more ways than one.
warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, minors DO NOT INTERACT!!! angst, alcohol consumption, stubborn mean asshole sammy (my guilty pleasure), petty y/n (she is by no means blameless LOLLLL) degradation, name calling, hate sex, unprotected p in v (please be safe, folks), fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), spanking, choking, pls let me know if i missed anything!
word count: 8.3k
You couldn’t stand his face. The cadence of his voice. The smirk that would splay across his lips when he found another woman to lead on only to inevitably gaslight her and leave her hanging once the night was through. You really couldn’t stand any of it.
And now, posted up on the side of the bar with your friends, you were seeing red watching Sam comb his fingers through some innocent woman’s hair as he leaned in close to her to undoubtedly whisper a slew of nonsense.
“You know, you really shouldn’t let him get to you as much as he does,” your best friend, Danny, murmured, shaking you from your spiraling thoughts. “He’s way more harmless than he looks.”
You sighed, turning your head back down to the drink in your hands that was now mostly water and melting ice.
“Did you really have to bring him with you tonight? Like, I know he’s your friend and your brother and all, but-”
Josh clapped you on the back, signifying his return from wherever he scampered off to.
“That’s right, mama, he’s our brother. Unfortunately, we’ve had to learn how to live with his antics, and you might as well, too.”
The glare you shot Josh had him retreating his hand from your back, slowly backing away with arms raised, signifying his surrender as a chuckling Jake took the spot beside him.
“Yeah, well you might want to give him that pep talk, too, Josh. I know he feels the same way about me as I do him.” Jake’s smile only widened as he brought his glass to his lips, muttering something that wasn’t quite loud enough for your ears to pick up, but earned him a jab in the stomach from his twin.
The blood pulsing through your veins was beginning to turn scalding hot as you turned to take in the scene that was unfolding between Sam and his mystery woman of the night. He now had his arms snaked low around her waist, kissing and nibbling at her ear as she blushed and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders.
“Relax your jaw, honey, you’re gonna give yourself a headache,” Danny cooed from over your shoulder, bringing a reassuring hand to the middle of your back as you continued to stare, imagining lasers darting from your eyes to shoot right through Sam’s head.
“How can you all tolerate,” you gestured towards Sam, “this? It doesn’t bother you at all? His blatant disrespect for any woman that walks the earth?”
“Of course it bothers us, darling,” Jake started, coming up beside you to watch Sam as well, “but you know Sam. He is never going to quit doing something unless he finds out the hard way for himself, no matter what any of us tell him. One of these days Karma will get him, and I personally can’t wait to watch.”
He was right, of course, and that was one of the things that drove you craziest about Samuel. Sam was headstrong and stubborn, refusing to listen to any advice given to him and always getting burned in the long run, even if he didn’t realize it at the time. He was arrogant, smug, self-righteous, and always had to have his way, and the thought of him using this poor girl to his own advantage only to gaslight her and leave was about the last thing you could tolerate.
The worst part of it was that you had always secretly found Sam attractive, and sometimes there would be an all-knowing flash in his eyes when you two were bickering that suggested that perhaps he actually liked getting a rise out of you. The curve of his smirk, the twinkle of his honey-brown eyes, he had to know. And it all pissed you off further.
You hadn’t realized that you zoned out, still locked on Sam, until his eyes met yours. The woman he had in his arms was now buried in his neck, reciting whatever sweet nothings Sam had definitely spewed to her, and once his gaze found yours, a sinful smile began to creep up on his lips.
Fuck him.
Flustered, you turn back to the bar, dropping your head to try to hide your rising blush from Danny and the twins. You had to get out of there.
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom quick, I’ll be right back,” you explained as you shot off your barstool, knowing that the bathrooms were just past Sam. The company of three hummed in acknowledgement, already deep within a conversation about the studio session they had earlier that day.
You didn’t know why you felt this way. Sure, you hated the guy, but why was he able to get under your skin so easily? Every action he made ignited a new fire within you, every word that dripped from his plush lips was poison to your ears. And you knew it was childish, but you had to do something to not let that girl be a pawn in another one of Samuel’s selfish chess games.
You knew it was extremely childish as you approached the couple, slightly hip-checking Sam as you stormed past, causing a gasp to tumble from him as he bumped into the woman before him, causing him to spill his drink down her front. You didn’t stop to apologize even though your right mind was telling you to turn around and grovel on your hands and knees for forgiveness; no, you continued on your path to the ladies restroom, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips.
~~~~~~
You were leaning over the sink touching up your lipstick when the faint click of the lock sounded from the door. Through the reflection in the mirror, you could see Sam entering the bathroom and turning the lock before he settled his weight up against the wood, arms crossed and a purely sour look on his face.
“I believe you’re looking for the room next door, Samuel,” you started, placing the cap back on the bullet and straightening before the mirror, tousling your hair slightly. You needed to keep your hands busy; you’ve never seen him this angry and you knew you should be nervous, but you were too busy damning yourself for the heat that flooded to your face and the sudden clenching of your thighs. He was pissed. Good.
“That was a low blow, even for you.” His voice was gravelly and hoarse, any semblance of playfulness worlds away from the shitty dive bar that you two occupied. You watched Sam as he shoved off the door, stalking towards where you stood only to stop short a few feet behind, his eyes burning into your reflection. “I could’ve sworn there was a hint of jealousy in your eyes when you were admiring me from across the room.”
Your stare darkened and your jaw tensed.
“You can only be jealous of something you want, Sam, and the last thing I want to be is your conquest for the night.”
The sides of his mouth twitched in what you could’ve sworn was going to be a smile, but he masked his amusement quickly as he inched closer to you, a lion stalking its prey.
“You’re really telling me you just happened to trip and fall into me, doll?” The nickname left his lips with a condescending tilt of his head. “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”
Having had enough, you dropped his glare, throwing your lipstick in your bag and whirling around to face him, leaning your weight slightly on the countertop behind you.
“Fine,” you relented, crossing your arms, “but it was never because I was jealous, let me make that fucking clear. It’s because you’re one of the biggest self-righteous assholes that I have ever met and I couldn’t watch you ruin yet another woman's night beyond some club soda spilled on her shirt.”
“I’m pretty sure I was about to make her whole night, Y/n, not ruin it.”
“Really?” You were certain steam was coming out of your ears at this point. “What was going to be your excuse tonight, hm? Telling these people exactly what they want to hear despite your worst intentions,” you dared a step closer to him, “deceiving them, convincing them that you want “the exact same thing” that they do, when all you want is a pretty plaything to warm your dick.” One more step closer. “Making them all trust you before you leave in the middle of the night and block their number, never to be seen again.” You were close enough to him now that you pressed your index finger to his chest as you seethed through clenched teeth, “You make me fucking sick.”
His hand wrapped around your wrist in a vise-like grip, hatred and something that looked like lust dancing in his eyes as he brought his face inches away from yours. “You could only wish that you were the pretty plaything I get to warm my dick with.”
That was the last thing you thought he’d say and it was obvious by how your jaw hung open, causing a low chuckle to rumble out of Sam’s chest. He threw your wrist down as he straightened and turned on his heel, heading for the door.
With his fingers about to turn the lock, he threw you a glance over his shoulder,
“And you’ll catch flies in your mouth with that dumb ass look on your face.”
~~~~~~
Trying to settle your racing thoughts, you stalked back to where your friends sat at the bar, seemingly far more intoxicated now than when you had left them. You laughed under your breath as you approached them, setting your bag down on the bar and reclaiming your stool.
“Daniel called Jake “Little Man” so Jake bet Daniel that he can hold his liquor better than him even though he’s shorter,” Josh leaned over to explain, a Cheshire cat grin on his face, “so now they’re in a pissing contest.”
“Oh no,” you chuckled out, rubbing your hand in small circles on Danny’s back as Jake stuck his tongue out at him, “you know Jake can drink you under the table any day.”
Danny tilted his head to blink up at you, his eyes impossibly droopy. “I had to at least try, honey,” he managed to slur out, that dopey smirk you’ve come to love so much making an appearance. “And you’ll never, EVER, succeed, you prick!” Jake shouted in his British accent as he slammed his hand down on the sticky counter, earning genuine belly laughs from the entire group and annoyed groans from the other patrons in the bar.
Josh hurriedly hopped off his stool, going to place an arm around his twin's shoulder. “And with that,” he shook Jake a little bit, “I think it’s our time to leave.” He coaxed Jake off of his stool, albeit a tad reluctantly, and closed their tab with the bartender. Josh turned to you, “I’ll get him home, do you think you can manage Daniel?”
“Yeah, do you think you can manage me?” Danny hiccupped, trying to get off his stool and stumbling a bit. “Yes, you big lug,” you wrapped your arm around his torso, making sure his own was secured around your shoulders as you tried to support his weight, “and I’ve dealt with you in far worse situations.”
He giggled as the two of you waved goodbye to the twins, Josh laughing as Jake staggered out of the front door.
“Alright,” you turned your attention back to Danny, “you ready to go? You’re gonna crash on my couch, I don’t trust you to be out of my sight.” He let out a shocked gasp, his free arm moving to clutch at his chest in faux disbelief before he blurted out, “Sammy.”
Ugh, that’s right. Where the fuck was he?
You groaned as you scanned the bar, seeing Sam tucked away in a booth nearby with a new woman, the previous one shooting daggers from her eyes at him from her spot in a booth not too far away. You still had your arm wrapped around Danny as you barked out, “Sam! We’re leaving!”
Sam looked over at you with disgust, clearly upset that you interrupted him once again before he saw Danny tucked in your grip.
“Ooooooh Sammy boy, it’s time to go hooooommeee!” Danny yelled in his best sing-song voice, and you watched in awe as Sam’s face shifted from anger and attitude to one of fondness and humor. He smiled at his friend, the admiration in his eyes shining through.
If only he could act this way with everyone.
“Okay, okay asshole, I’m coming,” Sam laughed back from his seat, dismissing himself from his companion and swaggering over to you and Danny. Without saying another word, he pulled Danny’s other arm around his shoulders, the two of you supporting the weight of the drunken curly-haired man between you.
Sam leaned forward a bit to catch your attention, “So, what's the plan?”
“I’m gonna take him to my place, get some Alka-seltzer in him before he passes out on the couch,” you explained. You appreciated that you both could drop the act for a second, more concerned about helping your mutual friend than bickering. “If you could just help me get him to my car, that’d be great.”
Sam nodded his understanding, but asked, “And are you going to be able to get him up the stairs to your apartment by yourself?” He had a good point, the stairs to your place were treacherous being that you lived on the fourth floor, the stairwell full of angled turns that you were sure you’d have to drag Daniel up.
You sighed, “Probably not, would you mind helping me?”
Danny chimed in, “I can walk up the stairs just fine, thank you very much,” trying his best to convince you both but the tripping of his feet told you everything you needed to know.
Sam smirked with a hint of fire in his eyes, intentionally ignoring Danny’s plea, “I thought you’d never ask.”
~~~~~~
“C’mon Danny, just a few more flights,” you begged, Danny dragging along like dead weight between you and Sam. Thankfully, the ride home had been bearable, Sam too focused on his friend to pay any attention to you as you drove. You were grateful for that fact, definitely less than pleased that Sam would be stepping through the threshold of your home even if it was for a good cause. The other men had been to your place plenty of times, but you had a strict rule about not letting Sam over. Didn’t want his energy in your space.
“You got this, Dan, come on buddy,” Sam chimed in with you, readjusting Danny’s arm around his shoulder, hauling him up the stairs. Finally, you made it to the landing where your front door stood, and you shimmied out from under Danny’s arm as you fumbled for your keys.
“I love you guys,” Danny mumbled out, wrapping his now-free arm around Sam and bringing him into a bear hug that had Sam laughing. You couldn’t help but chuckle too; your best friend was a sentimental drunk.
“Yeah, we love you too, you flirt,” Sam said, clapping his hand on the man's back as you unlocked the door and held it open for them to stumble through. “I’m not a flirt,” you heard Danny say, almost unintelligible as they passed you and headed over to the couch, thankfully not too far from your front door. You watched for a minute as Sam set Danny down on the cushions, then immediately crouched down in front of his friend and began untying the laces of Danny’s beat up Vans.
You remembered Danny’s words from earlier that night: “He’s way more harmless than he looks.” Maybe he was right, but it would take a whole lot more than that to convince you that Sam was a genuinely good person.
‘Would take a whole personality change, you thought as you shut and locked the front door.
“Can you get him situated? I’m gonna grab him some water and meds,” you called, already heading towards your kitchen. Sam waved you off, which you took as a ‘yes’, and left the room. As you rummaged through your cupboards, you reminded yourself of all the things you disliked about Sam; you weren’t going to let this one act of kindness get to you. Besides, you’ve witnessed some truly despicable things from him.
Plopping two antacid tablets in a cup of water, you hurried back to the living room, seeing that Danny was now horizontal on your couch, his head propped up behind a couple of decorative pillows. Sam grabbed a blanket from the basket that sat on the floor and draped it over him before sitting on the arm of the couch by Danny’s feet. Making your way over to your friend, you saw that his eyes were closed, already dozing off. You scratched his head lightly, causing his eyes to open a smidge.
“Take a couple sips of it, then you can go to sleep,” you cooed, his hand coming up to grab the cup and bringing it to his lips. “Thanks, honey,” he whispered after drinking half the glass and handing it back to you, smiling up at you as he laid his head back on the pillow. You leaned over to set the cup on the end table by Danny’s head, then moved to kneel next to the couch, running your fingers through his hair to coax him to sleep. His eyes immediately drifted shut, and soon enough his breathing evened out, faint snores coming from his slightly parted lips. You smiled to yourself, purposefully forgetting that the man you despised sat no more than 10 feet away from you, watching silently as you took care of his friend. Sleep wasn’t too far off for you, either, and you desperately needed to get out of your clothes and into something comfy, but before you could get up, Sam cleared his throat, reminding you of his presence.
“I’m gonna stay with him for a little while longer, if that’s okay with you,” he said softly, not a hint of the usual arrogance in his tone. You blinked at him, a little stunned by the kindness of the gesture and the gentleness of his words. “Oh come on, Y/n, I know I’m a dick but I’m not that heartless.”
And there’s the asshole I know.
You stood, stretching a bit before landing your eyes on him again. “You can do whatever you want, I’m gonna go get ready for bed. You can let yourself out when you’re ready.” Not bothering to wait for an answer, you turned on your heel and started towards your bedroom; you weren’t too interested in what he had to say anyways.
To your dismay, sleep completely evaded you the second your head hit the pillow. Teeth brushed, face washed and in a big, comfy t-shirt, you tossed and turned in your bed, finally deciding to turn back on your salt lamp. Josh had told you once or twice that it’s better to get up and do something if you can’t sleep rather than just stare at the ceiling, so you decided to heed his advice.
You checked the time on your phone; it had been an hour or so since you left the boys in your living room. You knew Danny would sleep through the night no problem, and you could have sworn that you heard the front door slam a half hour ago, signifying Sam’s departure.
You locked your phone and put it back on your nightstand.
Sam.
You flipped on your back and huffed out a sigh; you couldn’t believe that he had been in your apartment. Reliving the events from the night, your blood began to heat again, remembering just how infuriating he had been at the bar. How rude he had been to those women. How hot you had found it that he locked the both of you in the bathroom, and how your thighs clenched when he grabbed your wrist.
How could you be this attracted to a man you despised? It made your anger grow tenfold, trying desperately to convince yourself that he did not have this effect on you, that you were simply tired and touch-deprived and that was the reason why your mind was stooping so low. But the more that you thought about him from the sanctuary of your bed, the needier you became. It was just physical attraction, right? There’s nothing wrong with that, you repeated in your mind, knowing damn well that you were going to beat yourself up in the morning for what you were about to do.
Alright Josh, I’ll do something, you thought as you opened the drawer on your nightstand, grabbing your vibrator that kept you company on nights like these.
Back bowing off the mattress, you held your breath as your eyes screwed shut, your release just out of arm's reach. Thoughts of Sam swirled in your mind's eye, imagining the way his guitar fingers would feel pressed into the canvas of your skin, the song your name would sound like when it dripped from his lips. Your orgasm was speeding towards you, the wave cresting and about to crash, when the sound of your bedroom door shutting snapped you back to reality.
Your eyes shot open as you bolted straight up, your vibrator still buzzing away beneath the bed sheets.
“Please, don’t stop on my behalf.”
Sam stood with his back pressed against your door, a mirror image of his actions from earlier. Arms crossed, a devilish smirk on his face that you wish you could smack right off. And you would get up to do it if only you were wearing pants.
“GET OUT!” You hissed, your vision blurry with rage as you chucked your pillow at him with little thought. He side-stepped it easily, not paying the plush fabric any mind.
“In my defense, I knocked,” his head tilted up so he could look down his nose at you, “twice. Seems like you were too preoccupied to hear me.”
“Sam, I told you to get out! Why are you still here, anyways?” You fumbled for your vibrator under the sheets, finally switching it off, shrouding your room in silence.
“Well,” he shoved off the door, eyes still glued to you, “I was coming to ask you if there was a pot or bowl or something I could set next to Dan in case he needed to throw up.” He made it to the foot of your bed, looking down at your exposed leg that was visible from beneath your blankets and slowly trailed his gaze to your beet-red face.
You pulled the blankets so your bottom half was completely covered, “There are things underneath the kitchen island, okay? Just please, for the love of god, get out of my fucking room!” You yelled at him; you desperately needed him to leave so you could focus on your breathing and not on the wetness collecting on the insides of your thighs.
But Sam clearly had other plans as he sat at the foot of your bed, not bothering to say a word for what felt like ages.
“Bet I could do a better job than that bit of plastic.”
What? Were you hearing him correctly?
Your eyebrows shot up as you tried to find words, but his statement had shocked your brain into malfunction.
“I’m just saying,” he glanced at the lump underneath the blankets next to you, to the toy that hid beneath, “I’m right here. And I could do a better job.”
“Are you fucking serious right now, Sam?”
His smirk dropped and was replaced by a sternness that you’ve never seen from him as he leaned ever so slightly closer to you.
“That depends, are you considering it?”
“No way, I fucking hate you!” You tried to whip your other pillow at him but he caught it effortlessly, holding your stare with an eyebrow raised.
Of course you were considering it, you had been seconds away from your own release that was brought on by lewd thoughts of him, and now that he sat at the edge of your bed, looking positively sinful… How could you not consider?
“Likewise, but I’ve seen the way you look at me. You think I don’t notice, but I do.” The smirk came back. That stupid, gut-wrenching smirk. “And I think I’ve made myself clear about what I think of you.”
“And what do you think of me, Samuel?” That piqued your interest, subconsciously mirroring his actions and leaning your body closer to his.
His voice was a low rumble in his chest as his gaze flickered between your eyes and your lips.
“I think you’re a brat, you’re entitled.” Suddenly, he was shifting his position, climbing onto your bed on his hands and knees.
“You have a big mouth.”
He moved closer to you.
“You ruin my fun.”
Closer still.
“I can’t fucking stand that you’re close with my brothers.”
Closer.
“I fucking despise being around you,”
His arms encased your legs on either side of them, his head mere inches away from yours, and just barely a whisper, he breathed,
“And yet I dream of all the pretty noises I could coax out of you while you’re in my bed.” He glanced down at his hands and grabbed the sheets, “Or your bed, apparently.”
“You talk a big game as if you didn’t just say you think about fucking me,” you said lowly, thankfully your voice steadier than how you truly felt. “I can see it in your eyes when you're spouting your stupid shit to me, even before you admitted it.”
Sitting up further on the bed, you pressed your back against your headboard, having more room now that your pillows were scattered remains on the floor. Your confidence swelled; the man you hated had just revealed that he dreamt of having you, taking you, and you weren’t going to let that bit of information go to waste.
“You know what I think, Sam? I think there’s a different reason why you can’t keep a girl longer than one night,” you mused, crossing your arms and feigning disinterest.
“And what would that be, doll?”
It was your turn to look down your nose at him, causing that wicked grin to crawl upon his features.
“You’re a little attention whore. You want these girls to want you, and once they do, you get bored. Such a fucking asshole. You want them to think about you, to get all hot and bothered by you, and you toy with their hearts cause you truly don’t want any of them, do you?”
Sam was back hovering over you in an instant, one of his hands gripping your cheeks so your lips puckered slightly, his eyes searing into your soul as your own were blown wide.
“Tell me what I want.”
You tilted your chin up a little more, your nose nearly brushing his as you fixed your stare; it was your turn for a devilish smile.
“You’ve always wanted me, haven’t you?”
His hand left your cheek in favor of caressing your jawline, his slender fingers pausing underneath your chin as he brought his face ever closer to yours as you asked, “Do you wanna fuck me?”
Genuine amusement shown on his features for a split second before he regained his composure, humor still dancing in the chocolate of his eyes,
“I really want to, doll, but you know that.” His thumb brushed against your lips; the gentleness that would pop up here and there was still surprising you, being as it wasn’t something you were used to. Maybe if you had paid more attention to him you would have picked up on it, but you were never interested in getting to know him more than the bare minimum. Maybe until now… “Do you want to?”
Was this really happening? You knew you wanted him, needed him, badly, but what would happen tomorrow? A week from now when you inevitably would see him at the bar? Oh god, and Danny was still asleep on your couch not too far away…
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?” He whispered.
“Yes, I want you to fuck me, Sam.”
His face darkened nearly instantaneously, the leash on his composure snapping. The light hand underneath your chin traveled quickly to your throat, and you felt his calloused fingers squeeze the sides of your neck as he breathed into your ear,
“Yellow, we slow down and talk. Red, we stop altogether.” You sucked a sharp inhale through your nose; you couldn’t believe how excited you were. “Or tap me three times, I’ll know what it means.”
He didn’t have to look down at your body to feel you squirming in place, for he knew exactly what he was doing to you. And when you felt his lips curl into a smile against the shell of your ear, the leash holding you back snapped as well.
“Green.”
That was all he needed. Before you knew it, Sam had let go of your throat with a hint of force, hopping up to yank you to the foot of the bed by your ankles, bringing you to lay flat on your mattress. He rolled his eyes as a faint gasp escaped you, every movement he made shocked you slightly. Straightening to his full height, he began removing his clothes, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch his display; you’ve never even seen him shirtless before.
The outfit he wore tonight was one of your favorites- a pair of black slacks that fit him a little too tightly, not that you were complaining, and a cream colored corduroy button up, buttoned only at his navel, a page out of his older brother's book. A small, navy crystal in the shape of a triangle hung as a pendant around his neck. Simple, but elegant. You could see he was unbelievably hard already, straining in the confines of his pants, and secretly you knew he was getting off on watching you watch him, only further confirming his need and love for attention.
He forwent unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and pulled it over his head in one swift motion, revealing his slim, tanned torso. It felt nice to have an excuse to marvel at his beauty, to take a moment to really look at him without any malcontent.
“Like what you see, princess?”
Nevermind.
You flopped back down on the bed, causing your t-shirt to hike up a little higher. The blankets and sheets were still hiding you from him so he couldn’t see your exposed skin, but you were growing impatient, ready to throw them off of you. Ready to pull Sam on top of you. The mental notes you had taken suggested that if you pushed the right buttons, he’d easily give you what you wanted.
“You ruin everything when you speak, Samuel,” you sighed, doing your best to look disappointed.
His eyebrows shot up as he tied his hair back in a low bun; the feral look in his eyes told you that he wasn’t going to tolerate much more.
Good.
Ripping the blankets off of your body, he threw them to the floor. The cool air in your bedroom lapped at your bare legs, sending a kiss straight to your core. And then he was pinning your legs open with both of his knees, his hands planted on either side of your head, bits of hair already falling from his bun and curtaining your vision.
“You’re such a fucking tease, princess.” He dipped his chin to his chest to assess the mess that had already gathered at the apex of your thighs. “And you’re already so wet for me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, did you forget-”
“Forget about this?” He reached across your mattress to grab your vibrator, cold and lonely. “How could I?”
The teasing was becoming unbearable and you debated whether you should just toss him out of your room and get back to your night with your trusty toy.
“Can you either shut up or put your mouth to good use?” You huffed.
A saccharine smile as he bent closer, a promise of a kiss as he whispered, “I intend to take my time with you, to make you scream and wake poor Daniel up.”
He was about to capture your lips with his and as much as you wish he would, your annoyance was still at the forefront of your mind. Since both of your hands were free, you used one to clamp over his mouth, his eyes shooting open in surprise.
“Ah ah ah,” you tutted, “I don’t think you’ve earned that privilege.” You turned on your best set of doe eyes as you cooed, “Find another use for your mouth.”
Sam playfully nipped at the palm of your hand before rising on his knees, stretching your legs even further, a look of pure wonder as he observed you spread out for him. He dropped your toy in favor of using his hands to roam over your body, tugging at the hem of your shirt that was now bunched up on your hips. You helped him pull it over your head, and once his hands were free of the fabric, they were sweeping over your skin anywhere he could touch; swiping his thumbs on the smooth skin underneath your breasts, running his fingers over your ribs and down the sides of your waist, until they landed on on the divots where your hips met your thighs. And he stole the air out of your lungs as he breathed to himself, “Stunning.”
But he moved on quickly, moving to lay flat on his stomach in between your legs, picking up your vibrator in his left hand. Catching your stare as he lowered his mouth to where you needed him most, he shot you a wink before diving into your cunt, sending a long stripe from his tongue from your entrance up to your clit. It all happened so quickly, and you gasped as your head shot back onto the mattress, hands flying to the silky roots of his hair.
He hummed against you immediately, causing delicious vibrations to shoot straight through your system. Stars were illuminating the backs of your eyelids as he devoured you with a fervor no partner has ever rivaled, and you silently cursed him, knowing that you would unfortunately be craving this night after night.
The pleasure was short lived, however, as he withdrew his lips that were attached to your clit. You lifted your head up and shot him a look of utter annoyance, only to then hear the faint buzzing of your vibrator.
“Didn’t you say you could do a better job than that thing?”
“Yes, and I am,” he smirked, using his free hand to trace your entrance and gather your slick on his fingers. He held them up to show you, “I just thought since you wanted to cum so badly with it, I’d have to make you.”
Your groan of distaste quickly turned more guttural as he pressed the silicone directly on your throbbing clit. A dark chuckle rang out through your room as he watched you begin to writhe on the mattress, your hands gripping the sheets as if your life depended on it. There was no build up; he had turned your toy to its highest setting and pressed it against you with enough pressure to send you into oblivion. Your moans continued to grow louder, your orgasm nearer to you than you had estimated.
The fingers on his free hand began dancing around your dripping entrance, and you forced your eyes open to watch as he slid two fingers inside you, curling them to the perfect angle that caused his name to tumble past your lips.
“Shhh…” he started condescendingly, “What would Daniel think? Hearing you be such a fucking whore for me.” You whimpered, trying to quiet yourself and prolong the inevitable release that would soon crash into you. “What is it he always calls you?” His tone was mocking, his eyes blown with lust and his mouth slightly agape. Until he snapped his eyes to yours, “Honey?”
“D-don’t,” you whined, but your body betrayed you as you clenched around his fingers.
“Oh, you just love it when he calls you that, don’t you? I can’t wait to tell him what it does to you.” His fingers sped up their pace as your thighs began to tremble, your walls fluttering around him. “C’mon, give it up, honey, I know you’re there.”
Your back bowed off the mattress for the second time tonight, eyes screwing shut as the ball of tension in your stomach finally snapped and you were clamping around his fingers, vibrator still buzzing away with all its might.
“That’s it, princess, cum for me,” he cooed, slowing his fingers but not taking the toy away as he watched in awe while you rode out your orgasm, twisting and turning on the mattress beneath him.
It wasn’t long before overstimulation had you in its grasp, and you grabbed his wrist with more force than you thought you had in you, silently begging him to let up. He looked at you, batting his eyelashes, and you prepared yourself for more nonsense to fall from his lips.
“I thought you wanted to cum so badly?”
“Sam, please,” you admitted defeat, “I can’t do another.” Steadying yourself with deep breaths through your nose, pleading with your eyes for him to show you mercy.
But your jaw dropped as he genuinely laughed at you, a malicious sounding noise filling the space.
“Told you you’d catch flies with that dumb ass look on your face.” He finally withdrew both the toy from your oversensitive clit and his fingers from inside you, bringing the digits to your open mouth and placing them on your tongue. You hollowed out your cheeks instantly, tasting yourself and humming around his fingers.
“Who knew that such a brat would end up being so good for me.”
That wasn’t going to slide, and he knew he made a mistake when he caught the mischievous glint in your eyes mere moments before you bit down on his fingers. However, your plan backfired, and before you knew it, the same hand was wrapped around your throat again, anger written plainly on his face.
“I’m getting real fucking sick of your attitude, Y/n. You should be on your knees thanking me that I let you cum.” Your eyes narrowed, his words causing your own annoyance to ignite once again. “Actually, that’s what you’re going to do. Hands and knees.”
He released his iron grip and yanked you up to a sitting position, but all you could bring yourself to do was cross your arms.
“Let me? You’re the one who barged into my room and ruined everything.”
“On your hands and knees, now.”
Oh, this was too much fun. And you let him know so with a smirk curling on your lips.
“Make me.”
His arms were around you in an instant, hauling you up and effectively flipping you onto your stomach with a slight bounce off the mattress. Your hair caught around your eyes and in your mouth at how swift the motion was, and felt his hands wrap around your belly and lift up, forcing you to hold your weight with your hands and knees. Your own curiosity had you biting back your witty retort; you were intrigued to know if he would hold onto this dominant streak.
His weight left the mattress as you huffed in exasperation, trying to pretend you were growing bored even though you were anything but. And when you heard the faint unzipping of his pants, you couldn’t help but crane your neck over to where he was, catching him just in time to watch him free his length from his briefs and kick off his pants. Fuck, he was positively huge, and of course every single part of him was beautiful.
He vanished from your vision quickly and you felt him kneel behind you, causing your heart rate to quicken. However, he didn’t move to touch you.
“I’m growing tired, Samuel,” you pretended to yawn, “if you don’t hurry up and fuck me, I’m gonna have to ask you to leave-”
His fist was in your hair immediately, pulling you up so your back was flush with his chest.
“For the sake of both of us,” he hissed into your ear, “I suggest you drop the act, princess.”
Your world was spinning as he threw you back onto the mattress, one of his large hands splaying across your back and pushing you even further into it, causing your ass to rise in the air.
“You’re going to take what I give you.” A gasp left your lungs as his free hand landed a sharp smack against the side of your thigh, “And you’re going to be fucking grateful for it.” Another harsh smack, this one directly on the flesh of your ass.
“If you think for a second,” smack, “about spouting your bullshit,” smack, “I’ll make sure you regret it.” He began running his hand over the red, swollen skin, soothing the bruises that were sure to make their appearance tomorrow.
“Color?” Softness returned to his voice, the calluses on his fingertips lightly moving to trace your shoulder blades.
“Green,” you gritted out, “green, you fucking asshole, keep going.”
The dominance switched back in an instant, his hands flying to your ass cheeks and spreading you wide open. The display had you clenching around nothing, ever eager for him to finally fill you up.
“How sweet,” he cooed, gripping his cock and running the tip through your folds, gathering up your wetness and smearing it along his length, “she’s blowing me kisses.”
The words you were about to let fly caught in your throat as he slowly pushed into you, stretching you in a delicious way that your body had never felt before. The two of you groaned in tandem; you could feel him pulsating as he bottomed out, stilling for a moment to let you get used to his size. You hated to admit it, but it felt like he was made for you; no one had fit so perfectly inside you.
“Fuck, Y/n, you feel incredible.” His harsh attitude was faltering, you could tell, as he leaned forward to brush your hair out of your eyes, your head turned to the side with your cheek against the mattress. You would’ve found it endearing, if it were anyone but him, and you let him know that fact with a look of annoyance from out of your peripheral.
“Move, you bastard.” Once again, playing the game to get what you want. And with a hand pressing the side of your face into the mattress, he started on a gruelingly harsh pace that had moans tumbling from your mouth with reckless abandon.
The sound of skin slapping against itself filled the room, accompanied by Sam’s filthy words and your pathetic moans. He was drilling into you with every ounce of power in his body, and you imagined how heavenly he must look with sweat dripping down his chest and his eyebrows knitted together. You would’ve turned to look back at him had your eyes not been rolled back into your skull, your groans and pleas becoming an endless mantra that only spurred him on further.
Finally, he enveloped both of your wrists within a hand, tugging you upwards so that your back was sticking against his chest, the new angle causing you to yelp out a curse of his name. Your head lulled back onto his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to nip at your ear as he continued his murderous pace.
“Look at you,” he panted into your ear, “you’re cock drunk on me already.” He groaned as you twisted your hands free, snaking them back into his drenched hair. You could tell he was getting close to his release, his thrusts beginning to falter ever so slightly, and that thought had you clenching down around him, ready to drain him of everything he was worth.
“Shit, honey, if you keep doing that, I won’t last much longer,” he whined, trailing a hand down your front and settling to rub fast circles around your clit.
“Don’t-” you gasped, trying to get your words out, “don’t call me honey.”
He huffed a breath in your ear, “I think we’re well past that-” His circles quickened, your thighs beginning to shake as you could see your own orgasm on the horizon.
You needed to spur him on one last time. You needed him to continue his pace. You needed to get in one more jab before you both reached your end. And by some miracle, you found your voice.
“Fuck, Sam! God, I fucking hate you-”
His hips bucked and he let out the most obscene moan you had heard from him all night, one that would forever be cemented in your brain. “Fuck, say that again, Y/n,” he breathed, pushing you back against the mattress so he had more leverage to pound into you, fingers still working your clit.
Your eyes screwed shut as you gripped the sheets, the leash on your release about to snap.
“I-” His hand landed another sharp slap against your ass, causing you to gasp and clamp down hard on his cock, the words dying on your tongue.
“Please, say it again, I’m so fucking close.”
“Sam,” you whined, “I’m gonna cum, please keep going.”
“Say it,” he seethed, his pace not relenting even though you could hear him panting.
Tears were brimming in your eyes, and you could feel them spill over as you choked out,
“I fucking hate you.”
You could feel him swelling inside you, his breathing turning into pitchy moans.
“Where can I-”
“Inside, do it.”
That was the last bit of convincing he needed before he bent over you, sheathing himself even further as he spilled inside of you, a string of curses mixing in with praises of your name. Hearing your name fall so freely and adoringly from his lips caused your own orgasm to finally crash into you, turning your vision white and your ears to ring. You could faintly hear him hiss as you clenched and fluttered around his sensitive cock, but your body and mind were floating, skin prickling and tingling as he rode you through your high.
Hands massaging your shoulders kept you tethered to the earth, bringing you back into your mind as you began to settle, your chest heaving and your throat a bit hoarse from the volume of your moans.
“Come back to me princess, come on,” he wiped your brow, coaxing your eyes to flutter open. Once he saw that you were present in your body, he withdrew from you, causing you both to shudder and wince.
After a few long minutes of catching your breath, he stood, rummaging through the pile of clothes, pillows, and blankets that were strewn across the floor. Plucking up your sleep shirt you had been wearing not too long ago, he brought it over to you, kneeling on the bed to wipe up your mixed releases that had begun to collect on your thighs and bed sheets.
You hissed through your teeth; you were a lot more sensitive than you had thought you’d be, surely going to be sore in the morning.
“You really had to use my shirt for this? I have towels in the bathroom.”
He smiled to himself, an action he didn’t think you would catch as you watched him clean you up.
“Glad to see your attitude hasn’t changed.”
Once he was satisfied with his work, he shoved off the bed, chucking the shirt back onto the floor and grabbing his clothes, beginning to dress himself.
“Plus,” he started as he buttoned his pants, glancing at you with that nonchalance you hated, “now you have something to remember me by.”
You scoffed, not bothering to get into it with him in favor of watching him pull his shirt back over his head, ridding his hair of the tie that bound it. You were waiting for the self-loathing to set in; waiting for the guilt of giving in to your desires, but you felt none of it. Instead, you felt a tad grateful, in some messed up way, that he had caught you in the act tonight because it caused the two of you to release an arsenal of pent up emotions you harbored for each other.
Once he was dressed, he strode over to the bed and knelt down on the floor, choosing to smooth out your hair and trail his fingers down your spine. You hummed in approval, the slight massage lulling you closer and closer to sleep. His eyes shone with a new emotion; you couldn’t detect the same distaste that always was dancing within them when he looked at you. There was lust there, and a certain seriousness that you didn’t recognize, but you welcomed it.
He surprised you for one last time as he bent down and placed a gentle kiss to your cheek, smoothing the skin with his thumb after he pulled away. You couldn’t help but smile up at him as he straightened to his full height.
“That certainly didn’t feel like you hate me, Samuel,” you called as you watched him make his way to your bedroom door, somewhat eager for him to leave so you could finally get to sleep.
“Well,” he breathed, sending a smirk over his shoulder as he turned the handle, “imagine being loved by me.”
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'Hey, wait up Mammon!' Asmodeus flagged the second-born down, huffing pitifully at having to do so much as jog to catch up with him. 'Have you seen MC? I'm pretty sure they said they'd be in the library right now with Belphie to make sure he didn't fall asleep.'
'Nah. Walked to RAD with 'em this morning 'n' lost 'em in Satan's class.' Mammon drawled casually. 'Human was moody as hell today, said they slept like shit.'
'Oh, poor dear. Maybe I should-'
Asmodeus stopped mid sentence and Mammon's smooth gait stuttered. Their pacts flared, flooded with seething, cold ire.
The two demons shared a look. 'Did you?' Asked Asmo.
Mammon nodded once, face set in a firm line, deadly serious. 'Sure did.'
That ire came with a tether, pulling them both toward the courtyard, where demons are slowly gathering, looking at the open doors as raised voices flooded through.
The gathering crowd parted for the avatars of Lust and Greed and they reached the door just as a very familiar voices yelled out in a very unfamiliar tone.
'You will not speak to me like that!'
MC's icy growl was a far cry from the human they're familiar with, the human who never raises their voice, who keeps a cool head and argues with logic and calm.
'I am not here for you to marvel at, not here for your fucking entertainment!' MC seethed, and they round to their human on the face of another demon, both of them with hackles raised and eyes burning.
Lucifer's pact mask bobbed on their throat with every breath, and they could swear they saw the glow of the other pacts beneath MC's uniform.
'Do you not realise how easy you are to replace?!' Seethed the demon. 'Just another human in the mess.'
'At least I'm not afraid of my next breath.' MC snapped. 'Keep your thoughts to yourself, nobody asked you your fucking opinion!'
'Why you-!'
'Oh piss off already. I'm done with you.' MC snapped, spinning on their heel and shoving through the gathered crowd, they didn't notice Asmo or Mammon watching, let alone Beel and Lucifer who'd overheard the last few words.
Beel was quick at their heels, steps eating ground to follow the tug of the pact and leave his brothers to absolutely demolish the demon in his wake. Perhaps literally.
He caught up with MC just as they left RAD, clearly heading home as the massive demon fell into stride beside them. 'Are you alright?'
'I'm fine.' The human puffed, voice cold and distant, eyes pinned straight ahead. 'Sorry. I shouldn't have risen to the argument, it's just an off day.'
'No need to be sorry.' Beel said softly, hoping to ease the tension in their shoulders. 'You're allowed to have feelings, and you're allowed to get mad. I know that demon rubs you the wrong way.'
MC sighed, forcing themselves to relax. 'Still...I don't like feeling this angry.'
'I get it. Do you want to go somewhere? Eat, drink? I'll get Belphie if you want a nap buddy.'
MC paused mid-step, looking at Beel, and then over his shoulder. Of course they wouldn't judge, none of them would ever begrudge MC genuine anger.
They felt seven hearts on the end of the threads binding them to their demons, flooded with concern, pride, righteous anger...
MC smiled, heaving a deep breath as they carried on walking, venting to Beel, who listened happily as they let that anger fade from their system and leave them in peace once more.
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Is It Over Now? (7)
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Aemma Velaryon
Summary: Say the one thing I've been wanting
Warnings: canon typical Targaryen incest. Smut. Aemond finally gets it wet lol. Dom!Aemond. Oral (f!receiving), female masturbation, breeding kink (because of course Aemond wants her pregnant asap), name calling, dirty talk. Warnings aren't exhaustive. Proceed with caution.
This one... ended up hella long, I'm not gonna lie. 2.5k words. Here's what I listened to for vibes and inspiration!
"Robert Tyrell is nowhere to be found," the King proclaims as morning drags into early afternoon. He sits on his throne, looking down at his family assembled before him. "His family offers no help, claiming their son simply vanished. We can't have a wedding without a groom, can we?"
You sit with your head down, feeling every bit as pathetic as you look. Robert must have heard about you and Aegon. That's the only thing you can come up with. Why else would he just disappear as he has? He knows his duty as well as you know yours.
"I'm sorry, Mother," you whisper. "This is all my fault."
"Nonsense." Rhaenyra's voice is sharp as Valeryian steel when she speaks. She holds her head high, allowing no weakness to shine through. "Clearly this was an unfit match."
Aegon scoffs. "Unfit. Cursed. Take your pick, sister."
"People are expecting a grand wedding." Alicent glares at Aegon from her spot beside her father. "What should we do, your majesty?"
Aemond steps forward, hands clasped behind his back. He shoulders are squared and he speaks with all the assurance of a second son. "I will take Robert Tyrell's place if it pleases the King."
The room erupts into chaos in an instant. Jace and Luke are yelling obscenities while Daemon and Rhaenyra plead with Viserys not to listen. Aegon screams at his brother, his throat going raw and his hands shaking with the effort of not hitting Aemond.
And you?
You take a step back from all of it, from all of them, and simply watch it all unfold.
Helaena steps beside you and loops her arm through yours. "They'll destroy themselves."
"Over a fucking wedding of all things." You can't hide the bitterness in your voice. "I'm sorry. About Aegon."
"Don't be. He's more of a brother to me than a husband. I like it that way." She tilts her head and looks up at you. "You were never going to marry Robert Tyrell."
You don't quite know what to say in response to that, so you pat her hand and say nothing.
"Enough!" Viserys' voice carries over the loud din of your family. He looks exhausted from the effort of being that loud. "I've decided Aemond will take the place of our runaway groom. Maybe this match will teach you all the importance of family and getting along."
Helaena gives you a look that seems to say see? I told you, but you aren't looking at her. You're eyes are glued to Aemond and the way he stares straight back at you. When you were younger you always joked that it seemed like he could look straight through a person's soul. Now you aren't certain it was actually a joke. Even with one eye missing it still feels like he's tearing the very essence of you open layer by layer as he stares at you.
Eventually, you find your voice and manage to say, "if it's the King's will then so be it."
"The children have more sense than the adults." Viserys stands, breathless and in pain. "Get these two to the sept before anyone else disappears."
The next few hours of your life are a blur. You couldn't remember most of it if you tried. Very few things manage to stick, but you can recall the anger on Aegon's face. He burns righteous and villainous in your mind. And your mother... she's devastated as she watches you dance with Aemond. Jace and Luke don't fair much better.
Yet, through it all, Aemond's face is what stands out the most. Because of course it does. Your new husband never leaves your side, his hands lingering at your waist or the small of your back as people celebrate around you. He's charming and lively beside you, but you can sense the burning just below the surface of his skin. His expression could almost be considered victorious as he looks at the assembled crowd. It confuses you and you try to store the thought away for later, but then Aemond looks down at you and presses his lips to yours.
He's soft and determined. Dornish wine lingers on his lips, but he's nowhere close to drunk.
You're his.
He succeeded.
Well, almost.
You will be after-
"The bedding ceremony!" Aegon slurs the words, taking a long drink from his cup before grabbing you by the arm. His grip is punishing. His fingers dig into your skin so painfully you'll be surprised if there aren't bruises in the morning.
There are jeers and whistles from the crowd as men and women surge forward. You're quickly separated from Aemond, a group of lords headed by Aegon dragging you to Aemond's chambers. They jostle and paw at the crushed velvet of your white dress. The fabric gives easily. The night air is cool against your skin, sending goosebumps all over your body.
In your panic you search for your mother, but you can't find her over Aegon's towering form. He leers down at you, wine stained lips lifted in a sneer. He's never looked at you with so much disdain before. It turns your stomach and leaves your blood running cold.
"Don't touch," Aegon snaps at some lord on your left as you feel fingertips brush against your arm. "Think you're good enough for a princess, Bolton?"
You don't hear the young man's reply. You don't hear much of anything honestly. It takes everything in you to pretend you aren't naked in front of the entire court, being escorted to your new husband's chambers by your uncle. You're feet stumble over the granite floor while your mind goes fuzzy. You can almost pretend this isn't happening.
Almost.
Until a set of familiar dark wooden doors are flung open in front of you and you come chest to chest with Aemond.
With your husband.
Women tug at his clothes, but he bats their hands away with a practiced ease that makes you wonder how many times he's done that before. He doesn't take his eyes off of you as he dismisses everyone.
Only Aegon lingers.
"Shall I test her maidenhood for you, brother? Will you believe me when no blood comes from between those pretty thighs?" Aegon wraps his fingers around your wrist and tugs you closer to him, knee nudging your thighs apart as he presses up into your core.
Aemond observes him with a bored gaze. "If you're finished causing trouble, I believe you have your own wife to tend to."
Aegon's face flushes and he hisses something under his breath in Valeryian that you can't quite make out. He releases you with one last glare leveled at Aemond before storming out. Presumably to his own chambers. Or maybe Flea Bottom.
You know it isn't your problem- it never has been- but you still feel you're heart tug painfully when you think about him drowning his sorrows in alcohol and whores.
"Did they hurt you?" Aemond's voice snaps you from your depressing thoughts and you turn your attention to him fully.
You rub your arm. "Only Aegon. But isn't that always how it goes?"
"He won't bother you any longer."
"You sound confident, uncle."
"I am... wife."
Aemond's expression turns fond when he says the word, his one good eye sparkling with mirth in the firelight. You hum softly and your gaze drifts to his other eye. Briefly, you wonder if you'll ever be brave enough to see what you and your brothers did. You aren't sure. Maybe one day you'll be brave enough to face the consequences fully, but for now you simply reach out and touch the jagged scar covering his face.
"I'm sorry," you say simply. It's not enough, but it's what you can think to offer right now. "I'm so sorry, Aemond."
Aemond's muscles tense instinctually when you touch his scar, and he has to fight the impulse to shove your hand away. But that's no way to start a marriage, is it? So he stands still as stone while your fingertips on his skin starts to feel less foreign. He lets you apologize to your heart's content.
"The past between us means little to me now," Aemond says when your babbling slows. "It's our future I'm concerned with."
You blink, surprised to hear him say that considering how antagonistic his relationships with your brothers is. "Oh?"
He smiles, one hand cupping the back of your head as his other grips your waist and pulls you flush against him. His lips press to yours in what starts as a gentle kiss. He works you up slowly, nipping at your bottom lip and teasing his tongue against your own. You melt into him with each stroke of his tongue.
"Fuck," He moans out as he pulls away.
You simper out his name and a quiet please as you press closer to him, growing desperate for more despite any previous misgivings. Aemond's hand moves from the base of your skull to your throat. His fingertips dig into your pulse point in warning.
"Don't," he tells you. "I've waited for this. For you. I'll take my time and you'll thank me for it, understood?"
You nod pathetically, his words sending a wave of arousal through you.
His hand drops from your hip to your ass and he smacks you once before turning you around a softly pushing you towards the bed. "On your back. Spread your legs for me."
You do as he says, flushing with heat at the way he licks his lips while taking your body in.
"You're beautiful," he mutters almost to himself. "Better than I ever imagined."
"You've imagined me naked?" You know you should probably be upset, but all you can manage to feel is a selfish sort of pleasure that he's dreamed of you before.
"Many times, lovely girl." Aemond kneels on the bed and puts each of your legs over one of his shoulders. His lips are wet and plush as he kisses his way from your calf to your thigh, nose nudging the soft curls of your cunt.
"What else have you imagined?" You're breathless when you speak.
Aemond smirks, enjoying the way you squirm in his grip. "Would you like to hear about one of my favorite dreams?"
"Y-yes."
He hums in reply, teeth digging into the skin of your thigh. "It's you. Just you. You're alone in your chambers, night shift sticking to your skin as you sweat in the summer air. It's so hot you can't take it and strip naked. Your hands find their way to your cunt, bringing you pleasure but no relief because deep down you know only I can save you."
Aemond's eye flickers from your hand to your cunt and he says, "let me see if it's like my dream. Touch yourself for me."
Your hand is shaky as you move it down your body. Aemond eats up every second eagerly, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "That's it. Fuck, what a good girl you are."
"Aemond..." You say his name breathlessly, sighing in relief when your fingers meet your clit.
He watches closely as you toy with yourself, fingers dipping in and out of your wet core, arousal shining on your skin. You've never enjoyed getting yourself off, always preferring Aegon's help, but with the way Aemond watches you so intensely you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge of absolute pleasure.
"Don't cum," he tells you when he notices your movements getting sloppy. "Not without my cock inside you."
Aemond presses your legs back so your knees meet your shoulders. You readjust to the new position, looking down as he teases you with the tip of his cock. He's bigger than Aegon. Thicker too. His tip is flushed a pretty pink and you've never wanted something inside you more.
"Aemond, please," you cry out. You're wet and throbbing and desperate and so, so close.
His expression darkens. He had no plans to make you beg tonight, but it sounds so pretty that he just can't help but to switch tactics. You want his cock? You can beg for it like that desperate whore you are.
Aemond buries his face between your thighs, lapping at your juices. His tongue swirls around your clit before dipping between your folds and coaxing more arousal out of you. You scream, a sob wrenching itself out of your chest as your fingers slip into his hair.
"Please! Please, please, please!" You're pleading as loudly as you can. "Aemond, please!"
He pulls away just enough to look at you, his fingers taking over for his mouth. "Please what? Use your words and maybe I'll give it to you."
"N-no..."
"No?"
You let out another sob, tears of frustration pricking at your eyes. You're so fucking close.
And Aemond can tell.
The bastard.
"Aemond, please, I want..." You moan when his long fingers brush a spot inside you that has your walls flutter around him.
"You want lots of things don't you, lovely girl?" Aemond presses reassuring kisses to your face. "Focus. What do you want the most?"
"Y-you... inside me..."
"I am inside you."
"Your cock! I want your cock inside me! Please!"
Aemond's breath hitches. The only outward sign of his self control slipping from his grip. Hearing those dirty words come from your mouth makes his cock twitch in anticipation. You're such a good girl for him. He kisses you deeply as he presses his cock inside you, swallowing your moans with his tongue.
"Gods, yes," he moans when he's fully inside you. "You're cunt was fucking made to take me. I knew it."
You're crying now, feeling overwhelmed and overstimulated as he thrusts inside you. You swear you can feel him deep in your stomach. Maybe it's the angle. Maybe it's the fact that he's just that big. Whatever it is, you find yourself thanking the gods for it as he brushes up against that spot from earlier with each stroke of his cock inside you. You say his name over and over and Aemond thinks it's the sweetest prayer he's ever heard.
"You take it so well," Aemond praises as he brushes hair from your face. He watches as your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. They'll be so full when he has his baby inside you. And fuller still when your milk comes in.
Fuck.
Fuck.
He wants you round and heavy with his child and he wants it now.
"Aemond," you moan out his name as you grasp his forearms, nails digging into his arm. The coil that's been building in your belly snaps and your eyes flutter shut as the orgasmic high washes over you. Your body turns to pudding and you sink further into the mattress.
Aemond watches your expressions with rapt attention, his own orgasm taking over when your walls clench around his cock. He slumps down on top of you and welcomes your absentminded petting.
"We're married," you say as if the realization just hit you.
"As we should be. You're meant to be mine."
You don't know what to say to that declaration, so you say nothing and hope the morning won't be awkward. You'd hate to lose Aemond a second time.
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Completed Fic: Pennsylvania Under Me
HI! Happy Sunday. Here's the final chapter of this soft but angsty family fic.
As a reminder, it's also the sequel to this fic: Winter Prayer
AND, it will have a third part... EVENTUALLY!
Summary:
Buck has a final conversation with his mother before leaving Hershey. Eddie comes to a big decision.
Snippet:
“I’m sorry for what I said,” she begins, surprising him. Margaret Buckley has never really been one for apologies; at least not passive aggressive ones. “It wasn’t true and it was said out of anger.”
Buck breathes heavily through his nose. He doesn’t want to accept the apology, really. He feels a streak of righteous petulance pulsing through him. Except sorries are as rare as eclipses, and it’s bad conditioning not to acknowledge the behavior.
“Thank you,” Buck says dryly.
“I don’t… I don’t react with a clear head when it comes to Da… When it comes to your brother.”
Clearly not, if she can’t even say his name to Buck.
“Probably a good life skill to work on,” Buck offers, tone completely flat. “You know, not snapping malicious things at people.”
She purses her lips, takes the criticism, and doesn’t say anything more for a second.
“I know you came here with a thought in mind of how we’d be,” Margaret says. “And then I acted exactly that way. Proved you right.”
Buck nods. That’s all true.
“What I don’t understand,” she says. “Is why . I mean, I know why I snapped, but not why you seemed so resigned to it.”
---
Tagging @epicbuddieficrecs @theotherbuckley @sevenweeksofunrepression @slowlyfoggydestiny @devonwritesstuff @diazsdimples @exhuastedpigeon @aquamarineglitter @loserdiaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @your-catfish-friend @incorrect9-1-1 @hawaiianlove808 @babytrapperdiaz @watchyourbuck @lyricfulloflight @tizniz @aroeddiediaz @estheticpotaeto @buddieswhvre
#daisies and briars writes#pennsylvania under me fic#winter prayer fic#911 fanfic#911 fic#911#buddie 911#evan buckley#eddie x buck#eddie diaz#buddie fanfic
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Running Like Water
Chapter 22
pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)
fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues
fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I’m bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon
word count: 4.4k
a/n: Hi, I am back. Thank you for your patience and kind messages.
This is a peak for the story, next chapter is indeed the wedding and then the story picks up a bit. I am excited for this next leg.
Happy Double Update, read chapter 23 here
Javier Peña says the words often. Javier’s first words were love and papi. He was his dads best little buddy so it came as no surprise that the first words he ever formed were a manifestation of how much he loves his father. He ended every night with an I love you. He hung his Houston home phone after sharing his farewells and I love you’s.
It was easy to know how loving someone feels, but sometimes Javier got confused.
He told his first girlfriend in 6th grade that he loved her. He isn’t sure he could remember her name so he’s sure he was confused that time too. He told Lorraine he loved her, often, in passing and sometimes he felt guilty about it. He sometimes pictured telling her in some grandiose way but their relationship had quickly progressed to the likeliness of a separated couple. So in Houston, if they weren’t fighting; she’d squeeze his shoulder and say, I love you, goodnight.
Or when Javier was in the force he’d kiss her cheek and say, Love you, after she said, be safe. He feels bad about it, he feels bad because he might have confused her. Maybe she thought his love you’s before work were declarations of the act of being in love. He realizes that he was never in love with Lorraine. He loved her, he spent many years with her. At many lonely points in his life he considered her his only companion, his friend. For a while he thought all of that was good enough, a fathers love and scattered I love yous from an estranged girlfriend.
Then Javier thinks of you and he isn’t sure he can get confused anymore. He can pinpoint the switch, the moment where his heart couldn't take anymore of his own games. It would be easy to say it was the second he saw your face when he came home but that wasn’t it. He’s sure he fell in love with you while he was with Lorraine. What a painful realization to have? He’s been trying really hard to be a better man, but that fact right there— it sets him back.
He remembers picking that orange out of your locker, he remembers desperately attempting to extend your interaction. He had been up in arms thinking about you, your face circling his brain during inappropriate moments. But as he followed you around the hall, chest constricting with every one of your movements, smiles, sighs—he knew he was a bad man.
But in between the constant state of repentance for loving you while having someone else in his bed—he found himself basking in his love for you. Like on the drive back from your lacrosse game. It was rare that he rode alone, but Lorraine had work after the game. He pressed a goodbye to her cheek as she hopped in a friend's car. Standing at top of the hill, where the parking lot overlooked the field. You were still there, standing with wind bitten cheeks and dirt up the sides of your legs. Mouth guard dangling between your lips with a scowl as your friend Monica talked your ear off in between squirts of water.
Javier felt light headed and hard. He patted his pocket for his keys and turned on his heels to quickly find refuge in his dad’s truck.
He rolled his windows down when (I love you) For Sentimental Reasons by The Righteous Brothers rang through his truck speakers. Tapping the wheel, singing off key and picturing you blinking your pretty warm eyes at him with a shy smile like you did. He felt utterly ridiculous when he slowed at a red light and was faced with just how loud he was being. Tilting his baseball cap tighter to conceal his face as he mumbled the rest of the song.
He realized he was in love with you in that truck.
He tells you in that truck half a decade later.
And there is no singing, or wheel tapping. There certainly wasn’t a Texan breeze instead still heat down in the bayou. And you aren’t covered in dirt and amused, instead covered in tears and frozen. Your face crinkling with another wave of emotion as you lean your temple against the window. Brows creased, face covered in red blotches. “You—what?” You made a face like it was so shocking. Like you hadn’t been trying to tell him all weekend.
“I said that I really love you.” He isn’t backing down, his voice is stern and unmoved. Despite wanting to crumble into you and hold you until you stop crying, he knows he can’t be weak here. With the same stern tone he follows a bit quieter, “And I’m not sayin’ it in the way I should’ve told you when we were kids—when you needed it the most, but I'm telling you now so you don’t doubt it.” When he had to be firm and strong a slight southern drawl rolls from his lips, he pulls from his father when he needs to be firm. Picking up on his linguistic patterns when it’s needed.
Your cries are no longer audible but instead just cheeks lined clear. “Javi-“
“Loving you is easy, being in love with you has been much easier.” He turns forward once more, cranking the ancient truck with a rumble that hides another audible sob from you. “I’ll take us home. And when we’re home I’ll take care of you–I don’t care how it’ll look to your mom or your fuckin’ big brother.” And he begins to drive. Almost angry with his movements like he’s bothered that you’re shocked by his love. His jaw clenched as he drove away from the rolling lawns of rich Lousianians. There was no way of reading his mind but truthfully, he wasn’t upset with you–Javier? Never. He was running circles in his own head, fighting the urge to make a u-turn and beat your father to a pulp.
Instead he talks to keep you distracted more so himself.
At that moment you wished you didn’t need to be cared for, but if it was anyone in charge of that job–you could only pray it was him. You hiccup.
“My feelings for you changed when I saw you in 7/11 all those years ago. I tried to act like seeing you like that didn’t fuck with me. I was crushin’ on you so badly I started acting like a damn fool.” He makes a sharp turn and you stare at him behind blurry eyes. “I’m sorry for taking so long to tell you. I know you’ve wanted to say it for a while. I couldn’t find it fair, I put you–us through all of this. I should be the one to say it first.” He sniffles and reaches a hand to the overhead compartment, taking his yellow tinted sunglasses. Effectively covering his eyes.
It’s silent for a moment until you scoff. The sound has Javier’s neck snapping, it’s the first sound other than sobs. Your nostrils flare, and you almost laugh. Laugh at all of it. Laugh at the years you spent pining over someone who felt the same, at how stupid this all was. How you put so much value on a man who never bothered to find you or even care. Javier looks at you with concern as you short stop at a red light, he’s probably thinking you’ve gone mad. Giggling to yourself through red eyes.
“You’ve always gotta beat me to it huh? You called me first, kissed me first, said I love you first. Shoot–even when we were kids, I would ignore you out of shyness but you always came running to say hi to personally torture a timid girl like me.” You shake your head and wipe your tears. You used to find it cruel, the way Javier had to always center you in every setting you were in. After every first move he’d make, you sat in your bed later that day thinking–damn if only I had done it before him.
His lips twitched at their corners, his beautiful smile shining through, shaking his head and looking straight back at the changing light. “You snooze, you lose, baby.” He shrugs and steps on the gas. You sniffle still smiling, god you had whiplash from the emotions flowing through you. For now, for this moment, you were something that felt like content. Free maybe, free of a father who seemed to have his own head in his ass anyway. You were sad, yes, heartbroken even, but man did you feel lighter. You look to your boyfriend as he drives the car you practically grew up in. Sitting in the same seat you’ve sat in hundreds of times before. And you’re just so glad to be next to him.
“Well then, I really love you too Javier.”
His brow wrinkles above the shades, “I know.”
Four hours into the ten hour trip the two of you had stopped three times. It was late at night already, the two of you won’t make it until four am the next day at least. As the sun sets Javier asks you if Laredo feels like home to you.
You wish you weren't so embarrassed about your answer.
“Well, it didn’t feel like home when I was in Miami. I would come home for break and the house felt so empty. Frankie and Genie were traveling, and you were gone and Monica moved away–Liandra was abroad. I cried every night of January, missing the way it used to be. So I guess it feels like home when everyone’s home.”
Javi could have predicted the answer because it was the same for him. The emptiest he had ever felt was when he came home a few months ago to no one but his father. Laredo was home because of the people who loved him.
Laredo felt like home this time around, it didn’t surprise him that New Orleans felt like home this weekend. Maybe it was because you were beside him.
Javi fell asleep at the wheel and you had to steer for a split second. It scared him so badly he allowed you to drive to the nearest motel. When you offered to drive the next stretch he looked to you with a firm scowl and that idea died fast. Locking up the car and paying a skeptically low price in between the border of Texas and Louisiana.
The two of you crash in bed, your legs sprawled over his chest like a koala. He holds your head in the crook of his neck. If you weren’t so tired you would have taken advantage of another night alone. You tried, slowly making out-all tongue and quiet moans. Until he began to snore and you followed suit.
Slapping the alarm at 6 am. Brushing your teeth, showering and changing into tiny shorts and a tank. Javier nearly chokes at the sight of you.
The two of you head out on the road again.
You’re sad once again once you gain sight of your house. Afraid to face your mother, knowing what you know. Afraid to sympathize with her in a way you never have before. You begin to cry again, practically begging Javier to turn around, begging him to drive to another motel.
He promises to take you inside, “I’ll talk to her baby, I’ll take care of it. Let me take care of it.” He lets you breathe for a bit while he unloads your bags from the trunk. His sunglasses pushed over his hair, he somehow opened your door for you with busy hands. Leaning against the car, awaiting your strength.
Shutting your eyes tightly, once, then twice, blinking sense into your body. You step out into the stiff heat of home. Hair pooling at the front of your chest, sticking to your face in its natural waves, your eyes swollen, tips of your fingers brushing under your lashes. Drying all that you could. Javier stares at the ground and the two of you cross the street.
“You head up to your room and unpack, I’ll talk to your mom. I’ll tell her to give you space. She can gather herself before the two of you– you know.” His hand grips the strap of your bag, how desperately he wished his hands were free so he could hold yours. You nod anyway, your own fingers coming up once more to feel the earring pierced in your lobe. It provides a strange swell in Javier’s chest. He was being so kind, offering to talk to your mother but you knew it had to be you first. How you ached to be taken care of, this though, this you had to do. You were in pain, what's a little more?
The front door is open anyway, you step through.
Frankie, Genie and Melissa are all sat at the island. Frankie’s brows screwed in confusion, a smile splitting Genie’s face and Melissa with a frown.
To hell with doing this on my own.
“I’m going to unpack!” You blurt before anyone could utter a hello.
Startling everyone you run upstairs without your bags. Leaving Javier in the entryway with far too many bags for a weekend stay. Flip flops making a shockingly loud noise on the carpeted stairs. You turn the corner, your hands fumbling at the familiar coolness of your doorknob. You throw yourself into bed and immediately begin to panic. To hell with your dad, why was everyone here, for crying out loud? Of all times your selfish brother could stop by– today! You hoped to god Javier was down there using his DEA sweet talking skills.
God it would be so much easier to snoop if this house wasn’t so damn massive. Goddamn inheritance.
“Is she alright?” Genevieve asks, setting her tea down. Her shirt is tight enough to reveal the slightest formation of a bump. Frankie is giving Javier a death stare, all serious. Javier chuckles, setting down the bags and walking over to the bar in which they all huddled. Melissa hurried to pour him a glass of sweet tea. Javier nods a thank you. He hopes this conversation is quick so he could come upstairs with you.
“She–” He sips, his eyes locked with Frankies. He’s trying to kill him with his mind, Javi thinks. He gets it for a second, showing up a day late with his sister who had obviously been crying. Thank god your hair was down, you had been marked up with hickies from the weekend. Javier changed his gaze and locked in on Melissa. “She met her father yesterday.”
Melissa did something Javier has never seen her do. The overly friendly yet passive aggressive lady, the total asshole that ran the Diaz household–Melissa Diaz– dropped her head in shame.
Burying her face in her hands, not crying, no she doesn’t do that. She breathes slowly through her nose, muttering tiny sentences in Spanish, perhaps prayer. But Javier was distracted by her, distracted enough to miss Frankie having the same reaction. Muttering a Fuck, earning a squeeze from Genevieve.
Melissa looks up from her hands, a wrecked expression–something between anxious and heartbroken. Javier felt so out of place delivering this news. “So she knows.”
He nods, his attention turning back to Frankie who was now pacing with the bridge of his nose pinched. Javier understands Melissa, he understands why she never told you. Javier heard all that your father said, it truly had sounded like one of the most heart wrenching experiences a young mother could go through. But Frankie– “You knew?” Javier’s voice booms, he never wants to fight with your brother but Javier’s protective side is noxious.
Frankie shakes his head, his hand dropping. “Course’ I knew!” He shouts back.
“Tone it down!” Genie shouts and like always, Frankie listens with a deep breath. Javier calms it too, standing feet away from someone he calls his best friend. He wasn’t sure if that was even the case anymore, maybe if it was ever the case.
“She was too damn sensitive. We were waiting until she was ready to let her know.” Frankie shakes his head, his eyes locking on the image hanging behind Javier’s head. You with a window space between your teeth in the first grade, eyes shut mid image. Javi has passed the image a million times, he knows the one from the way Frankies angry eyes settle. They settle in the way everyones does when they think of her, when they think of you.
“She’s twenty two.This experience was really hard for her–the-the things he said to her, Frankie.” He’s nearly choked up, his hand shaking as he gestures at the stairs, the anger was building in his chest and it wouldn’t go down. He turns to your mother whose eyes were wide and glassed “And Ms. Diaz, I sympathize with you. I really do. But you knew she was going to see him–she told you and all you could do was make her feel more alone. Threatening to kick her out?”
Frankie’s eyes snapped to his mothers now. “Mom? What?” Her lip quivered and for the first time in her life Frankie looked at his mother as if she wasn't a perfect reflection of mother Mary. Genie scoffs too. For a moment Javi feels bad for her, then his eyes fall to the fridge, fall onto a christmas magnet. Holding up a picture of the two of them on the couch of the church basement, her in a ridiculous dress and him in that cable knit sweater he loved once.
In black ink,
A.D (16) y J.P (17) 1979.
And he’s reminded of the holidays.
“I didn’t mean it. She just never listens to me. I told her not to go.” Her voice shook and there were tears, Javier had never seen the woman cry before. Not in this way. “She has a family here, I was hurt that she wanted a relationship with that man!”
Frankies furrowed brow relaxes for a moment and he’s back under the spell of his mother, he steps closer and Genie grabs her hand in comfort. “Mom, it’s alright–”
“Jesus fucking christ.” Javier laughs, rubbing his tired eyes. His eyes are tired of yellow lines, green lights and tearful eyes of the woman he loves. So fucking tired of being the only one who can see clearly even through all this exhaustion. The three shot glances back at Javier. Frankie scoffs an, how dare you curse in front of my crying mother sort of scoff. “You rarely treated that girl like family. She spent Thanksgiving with me! My dad has thrown her birthday parties since she was fourteen! I carried her to my house and my dad patched her knees. So I’m sorry that Andrea’s interest in a family elsewhere hurt your feelings.” Genie has covered her mouth in shock and the looks on your family's face could only be compared to one of a child who was just reprimanded by a teacher.
With his chest rising and falling in anger, Javier points at the fridge. Your mothers eyes snap to the polaroid image of a young tired you and a grinning Javier.
“Andrea was fifteen in 1979.”
You fell asleep by the time Javier comes up to say goodbye. He watches you curled in a ball in the middle of your bed and he yearns to sneak in next to you. But he couldn't. Instead he opened your drawers and sat at the edge of your bed sorting your luggage. You surely did overpack, he feels a bit guilty for not giving you enough time to dress in all the pretty things you folded neatly. The silence rings out in your room, just enough for him to hear the mess he made down in the kitchen. He stayed as quiet as possible to hear the bickering from upstairs.
How dare he speak to me that way! He hears your mothers muffled screech. He also hears words of I’m calling his father. He snickers at that, how stupid. Shaking his head and placing your shorts in your second drawer (the one with the carving of your name in it, where all your shorts went) he surprisingly hears your brother respond.
He–had a point mom, we haven’t been the best to her. You know that.
Javier freezes with his brows shot high. Javi never really included your brother in the blame until recently. In high school he just thought his best friend was an immature shitty older brother– that's the way brothers were. But the older Javier got older the more he thought about you, the more he thought about your mother and your brother. The more bitter the taste on his tongue settled. From the recent stern talks he had with Frankie he saw that he cared but for things that truly didn’t matter as much. Scalding in anger at the thought of his sister with Javi but completely indifferent to the neglect he cosigned.
Javier never thought he would hear Frankie agree with him on this topic. So he stayed frozen and quiet enough to hear him.
We tried–I tried. Melissa cries. Javier finds it hard to feel any sympathy for your mother.
Obviously not hard enough–thanksgiving!
Was that true? She spent thanksgiving alone? Genie’s voice slipped in.
There was a scoff, It was only three times!
Javier decides to stop listening.
You wake up at eight in the night and realize your sleep schedule is fucked. You had a week to recover. The upcoming Saturday was finally the wedding and the second round of summer school doesn't pick up again until the end of June. You felt Javier kiss you goodbye in your slumber. You also knew at about 6 pm your mother slipped into your room and spoke to your half asleep body. Your back faced her as your body slept but your mind wasn’t. You could hear words unspoken by her once before. You almost heard sniffling but you weren’t sure.
He wasn’t ready and I was. I was so angry–I’m still so angry and I take it out on you–Andrea, forgive me. She kisses your shoulder, and your mind tells you to flinch but your sleepy body leans into her rare affection.
She says I’m sorry, I’m sorry I don’t know to be your mother.
You're not comforted but you're relieved to hear it.
You chose not to forgive her. But you listen while she tells you the story of your life in all honesty for the first time.
Your mom doesn't ask you to take care of your baby sister, you offer it instead. You watch her practice her wedding speech. She cries at each attempt and if you weren’t so upset you would laugh with her about it. You miss Javier dearly, it's only been a day but you suppose you’ve been spoiled rotten by the weekend away. You think of calling him the second you woke up but you decide to cool it. You pick up your sister from the living room floor and walk her around the neighborhood in the new stroller your step-dad bought. You saw them in a catalog a few months back, gasped at the price and closed it quickly.
You suppose it was nice to be alone, you spent the entire walk thinking of your father, of your mother. You pictured your half sisters, people who hadn’t been a thought in your head until two days ago. You wondered if they suffered differently, maybe they suffered more having a man so cold in their lives. On your way to the park you pass a flyer for Peña’s Ranch Hand, and you don’t cry about your father for the first time. You walk right past the park and end up at Chucho Peña’s residence. Not for Javier, just for his father.
Don Chucho is smiling ear to ear when he finds you with little Sol, he says “Javi isn’t home mama.” You laugh and surprise him by saying you were here to see him.
You recline your napping sister and sit at the dinner table, served with sweet tea. You laugh for a few hours while he tells you stories of a young Javier accidentally overfeeding his first fish named, papi, because that was the only word he knew. He tells you he would smell the weed from the basement almost every time, you drop your face in your hands in embarrassment. You all truly thought you were insulation masters with the door crack stuffed with towels. “That smell came straight upstairs, I was just happy you guys weren’t out on the streets you know.”
The sun sets and you thank him for always being there. He kisses your head and says, “You have always been like a daughter to me, thank you.” You decided maybe you could be alright with this little family.
You reassemble the stroller and the door opens before you could even reach for it. Your face is met by a small breeze and the imposing view of Javier in a suit. His face had been his natural tough set, pouted and bothered to be alive. He doesn’t register it’s you for a moment, but his face softens entirely when he realizes his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Your lips quirk and your head flies to look behind your shoulder to find the hall completely empty, Chucho out of view. Javier looks too and wastes no time in leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Leaving so soon?” He whispers before standing up straight.
You blush like a schoolgirl, gripping the stroller with your life. “Yeah, just wanted to visit your dad.” You jut your chin at your sleeping sister. “Also she fell asleep during our walk.”
Javier’s eyes brighten at the sight of Soleil sleeping so peacefully. “Qué preciosa.” He kneels running his knuckle across her cheek and something in your belly tightens at the sight. “I can take you two home.” He says once she straightens up again, with a groan like an old man. You look out the door behind him, the sky still bright pink and the sun warm.
“I’ll walk, I’ll call when I get home.” You smile and he nods. You look over your shoulder once more. “See you later baby.” You step on your tip-toes and kiss his cheek, you head on your way.
Javier watches you leave until you're out of sight and he begins to breathe funny. He’s almost glad it's him that has to leave at the end of this because he can't bear it be you to walk away.
#javier peña#javier peña x ofc#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena x you#javier peña smut#ao3#fanfic#javier peña narcos#javier pena x reader
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Draxum and the turtles sit down over some tea and Draxum's all like "I am deeply sorry I took all of the momentum out of my villainous dramatics"
-🔮🕸
I had. a thought. Welp, here goes.
-- -- --
"Cookies, anyone?" one of the flappy shoulder-pad-thingy guys offers, holding a platter out to Donnie, his brothers, and April as they sit awkwardly around the kitchen table in the what's only the third kitchen they've ever been in their entire lives. (Minus April, of course.)
"Soooo... you're serious about making us? Serious-serious?" Leo drawls, his fingers rubbing idly at the hilt of his (brand new, recently stolen) sword.
"Of course I made you! I would recognize my best work anywhere," answers Baron Draxum, the... yokai, if Donnie understood him correctly. "I'd thought you'd been destroyed with my lab, all those years ago, but to find you survived... it's incredible!"
The man moves his hands along with the first half of his speech before remembering they don't recognize his sign language--and that's a whole other level of crazy to this situation, that there are entire languages in use here that Donnie's never even heard of. He'd always hoped that there was more intelligent life somewhere in the universe, but to think it was right under New York this whole time--!
"Can confirm! Huginn and I were here when he made you!" chirps the other flappy shoulder guy, this one fulfilling his duties as a shoulder pad and looking rather smug for being such a tiny guy on a very large goat-man's shoulder.
"And that was with-- just to double check here-- the DNA of the missing action star Lou Jitsu?" April asks incredulously, accepting a cookie from the tray.
A nod.
She whistles. "Man, this would make that conspiracy girl from school absolutely freak."
Baron Draxum tilts his head and makes a vaguely conversational noise. Probably didn't quite hear her, then, Donnie knows the signs. April doesn't quite seem to notice, because she moves on with a new question:
"So why did you make four mutant turtles anyway?"
"I need them to destroy humanity with me," Draxum says evenly, and wow, that's a statement to suck all the energy out of the room if Donnie's ever heard one. Everyone seems to still like a deer caught in the headlights (except for Raph, busily stuffing cookies in his mouth, and glancing around in confusion when the room goes silent).
"It wouldn't be easy, necessarily, or quick, but with the aid of my recently developed mosquitos to aid in creating more mutants, I would have a viable army in a matter of months," Draxum continues. "You could be my generals, my righteous warriors! I will lead the yokai to freedom and glory with the four of you at my side!"
And Donnie doesn't know this guy at all, but he happens to be fluent enough in 'morally grey mad scientist' to recognize that this guy is dead serious.
"Oh. So you're crazy crazy," Mikey mutters behind a hand, at a volume far to close too normal for that kind of comment. Baron Draxum tilts his head slightly, narrowing his eyes, and fuck, Donnie can't tell for the life of him if that's a "didn't quite catch that" face or a "you've got ten seconds to run" face.
"...you'll join me, won't you?" he asks, and something in his voice is suddenly sharp and dangerous under his pleasant tone, like there's a very clear right answer here. Donnie's heart sinks as he realizes which one it is.
"Ye-yeah, sure!" Raph jumps in nervously, coughing cookie dust as he rubs the crumbs off his face. "Raph thinks we'll just be leaving now, we, uh, we gotta get home before--"
A flick of the man's wrist and the kitchen doorway is completely blocked by writhing purple vines.
"--and we have so much to talk about, so you aren't going anywhere," the Baron continues, a strained pretense of pleasantry still clinging to his words. "Besides, I have finally recovered you after thirteen years. I can't just let you go."
-- -- --
I have no idea where I would actually go from here, but it's certainly an idea to mess around with.
(Based on this post for context)
#asks#bambi's rambling#rottmnt#rottmnt au#rottmnt leo#rottmnt raph#rottmnt donnie#rottmnt mikey#rottmnt april#rottmnt baron draxum#rottmnt fanfiction#rise of the tmnt#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#not gonna name this because i'm not planning on making more content for it but we'll see how it goes#i've been starting a lot of aus reacently#draxum has apd au
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DREAM MEISTER THE RECOLLECTED BLACK FAIRY
RICHE PAST #1
━
On vacation from the Gastronomy guild, I find myself unusually alone...
I’m spending my vacation visiting our grandparents who run a winery. Though I suppose since it’s my day off, and I’m alone, I should be calling them “my” grandparents.
My grandparents offer me a warm welcome, just like they always have, and will continue to do.
RICHE : Grandpa, Grandma. It's been a while.
RICHE'S GRANDMOTHER : Oh, you've come! Come on in! We've been looking forward to your visit, you sweet, dear boy!
RICHE'S GRANDFATHER : Indeed, you're looking quite spiffy. Quite a change from back when you were just a boy.
RICHE'S GRANDMOTHER : Oh, nevermind that, Riche has always been serious about anything he set his mind to.
RICHE'S GRANDMOTHER : Even when you helped out at the winery, you always put your best foot forward and were constantly learning and researching many new things each and every day.
RICHE : Yes. I want to thank you, Grandpa, Grandma. It's because of my time spent helping out here that I am who I am now.
RICHE'S GRANDFATHER : Yes. Yes. You first starting working here about six years ago, if memories serves correctly. Ah, this feels nostalgic.
We reminiscine about many things for a long time after that.
RICHE : (Grandpa’s right...)
RICHE : (If you’d asked me back then, I’d never have dreamed of turning out this way...)
-FLASHBACK-
Ten years ago…
THUG 1 : Argh!
RICHE : Tsk... You never learn, huh? You wanna go again?
THUG 1 : S-Sorry!
RICHE : Speak up! I can't hear you mumbling like that. Should I make you speak louder?
THUG 2 : Eek! S-Sorry...
RICHE : You're apologizing to the wrong guy!
THUG 1 & 2 : W-Were sorry f-f-for… trying… trying to mug you!!
SCHOOLBOY : Th-Thank you...
RICHE : Jeez, don't ever try stealing from anyone again, got it?
THUG 1 & 2 : Yes, sir!
DELINQUENT 1 : As expected of Richie-Boy!
DELINQUENT 2 : Did you see their faces? They were terrified!
DELINQUENT 3 : There's no one who can rival Richie around here anymore!
━
You see… Back in those days… I was quite a bit more rebellious than I am now...
I’d spend my days getting rid of troublemakers like bullies and shoplifters, one after another.
Don’t misunderstand. It’s not like I had any righteous sense of justice. The reason I did such things was simple...
My brother Kuchen was a natural at making desserts. His chocolate was second to none…
And my brother Cuit could run a kitchen like no other.
Compared to my amazing brothers, I was nothing special. I had no talents. No prospects.
By virtue of being the youngest brother, I was loved by default. Cherished. And I felt incredibly guilty being so loved and offering so little. Dealing with the miscreants out on the street was my way of dealing with that.
DELINQUENT 1 & 2 & 3 : We'll follow you to the ends of the earth, Riche!!
Before I knew it, the delinquents around town were beginning to look up to me, almost as a leader. But one...
SCHOOLBOY : U-Um, th-thanks for helping me! Can I do something for you…? In return I mean…?
RICHE : Nah, you don’t need to thank me. Oh, but it is that time...
SCHOOLBOY : "Time"?
DELINQUENT 1 : He means it’s time for him to go home. Richie-Boy here has a curfew.
DELINQUENT 2 : Even as a delinquent, he's so serious~
RICHE : It’s not about meeting a curfew. And I’d hardly consider myself a delinquent... But, yeah, if I keep talking, I'll be late. See ya!
I take off at a sprint, humming to myself as I make my way home…
━
RICHE : Cuit! I’m back! What's for dinner tonight?
CUIT : Welcome back, Riche. It's beef stew today. Dessert is chocolate mousse made by Kuchen himself.
RICHE : Awesome! Sounds amazing!
KUCHEN : Don’t you ever get tired of acting like that? Day in and day out?
CUIT : Hehe. Go on, go wash your hands.
RICHE : Okay!
No matter how bloody the fight, I made sure to always, without fail, make it home before the Sun went down.
Because I knew... that the dishes my brothers had put so much effort into making were waiting for me back home…
#Otome#Yumekuro#Yumekuro Translations#YMKR translations#YMKR Dream Meister Translation#s Otome Translations#Dream Meister And The Recollected Black Fairy#Dream Meister And The Recollected Black Fairy translations#riche ymkr#riche#richepast
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erm so i havent scrolled too far down on your profile yet but is there anywhere where i could find the storyline if youve posted it? or how rimerock and larksharius met or who that cool lockar dragon is (i cant tell if hes related or correlated to rimerock because he also seems to be like a dragon). i will combust on the spot if it is in a very obvious location that i easily couldve found myself. I LOVE YOUR WORK!
Hello and THANK YOU SM!!!!! I'm so happy aaaaa!!! Ooops this got long lol
I have and will put most of their stuff in the pinged post HERE! The pair are my OCs in the game Pathfinder: Wrath of The Righteous. Rimerock is a companion for the Knight Commander(PC), and Larksharius is a war council advisor in Ri's companion quest. They met and fell in love during the Fifth Crusade. I wrote fics about them on my AO3, I will translate some of my work into English when I have time!
Larksharius is an OC who saved my life, they have been keeping me in extra good shape since then. And in my dream, they asked my old OC Rimerock for a date, and this is how ship-alrakis began. I will do anything for them, and I am and will be fully dedicated to creating a world for these two! ^^ Lark is my dream visitor (they were human and then turned into undead), and my other OCs are all dragons!
I don't have many stories written yet, sorry!! I like telling stories with images (which I haven't drawn...) and I'm not good at telling stories. English is not my first language but I'm trying my best! ;)) I do have some fragments of their lore/stories here and there! I can link what I wrote for Lark and Ri here! And a summary of all the characters related!
Main info:
OC Profile and everything I put up for both of them HERE!
Another version here! With some of their favorite stuff and fun facts!
This is what I put up for art commissions! Here I have their info and brief storyline! And links to Lark's deity paytron and a fic before they met! I can DM you their toyhouse page too, I want to keep their toyhouse page open to close friends only, bc we sometimes have nsft posts there… ;;;;;) They are married they do the thing, but both of them demand privacy.
Asks and other related posts:
Lark: name and rival, their hobbies, and their regrets, enemies, and dreamsLark's special soul and the trouble it caused for both of themShip songs and some brief story summaries for the two!
I only linked the lore I think can be important! All my other asks are here #arrow answers
Other OCs related to the two:
We have a dragon family here! They are all OCs in the Pathfinder world! Rimerock was adopted by a pair of gold dragons, he grew up with his elder sister Mirikshul, and younger brother Neralshul. Mirik died later, leaving the other two in grief and trauma. Both survivors are corrupted. Ri's corruption is severe, nothing can save him, he is dying until Lark comes and tries to save him.
☀️Mirikshul/Mirik - She/Her | An ancient gold dragon, big sister, Ri's first mentor(Ri's second mentor is Lark). She fought the demon lord Baphomet in order to protect her younger brothers, and was killed. She taught Ri many things, formed his characteristics, and how to fight evil like a knight.
🔱Neralshul/Nera - Any pronouns (Gender fluid, amab) | A gold dragon, Ri's sibling. They were Ri's younger brother, until Mirik's death forever changed their world.
Mirik's death corrupted Nera and Ri. The siblings dealt with this disease differently. Ri suppressed his condition in grief (that's why he is dying of depression and nothing can heal him), while Nera let out all their anger and turned from Lawful Good to Chaotic Evil. Nera became the only psycho in my OC house since then. Their misbehaving made their metallic scales so dull that they forever lost their shininess and looked like a yellow dragon. Ri saw Nera's act as a shame and disgrace to their noble sister Mirik. He tried his best to save Nera, but it turned out fruitless, so the two parted ways. The siblings always fight whenever they meet. Not that Ri starts the fight, but Nera LOVES to piss Ri off. Sadly as a sorcerer with a much smaller frame, they never win.
Nera was sane after adopting Blackstar and even went back to Chaotic Good during these years. But then the little black dragon grew up and they said goodbye. After that, Nera went to the Stolen Land and somehow became the ruler there. That part happened in the game Pathfinder: Kingmaker.
🌟Blackstar/Star - She/Her | Ri's nephew, Nera's adopted daughter. She is a fey-marked black dragon, the main heroine in my Pathfinder WOTR playthrough! She's raised by Nera and brought some good back to this corrupted gold dragon. In the game, she tried her best to save Ri, she wanted to find a way to cure him without letting Lark turn him into an undead creature, but she didn't have enough time. The result is fine tho. Because of Blackstar's efforts, all of her companions ascended as demigods, so even though Ri is still an undead arch-dracolich, his body works the same as if he is a living creature.
🐍Set - They/Them/It | Lark’s Neutral Evil deity patron. They chose Lark as their successor, and already gave half of their power to Lark. However, to become god means Lark has to stay in Set's domain forever. Lark valued their freedom to travel around the world so they refused the offer, for now.
Lockar (or locker) - He is a silver dragon from DND, Bauldur's Gate 3. Actually, Locker and his lover (their shapeshifted appearance) were made by Ri and Lark. Ri was playing Lockar as his PC, and Lark watched him play. So sadly Lockar is not related to the pair's storyline. I wanted to put Lark and Ri into bg3 but the story won't fit their lore lmao, so I had Ri playing the game instead.
I'm so glad you like my stuff!! thank you again!!!! asks anytime ^^
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I hate the PJO fandom here. I have never read such absolute bullshit takes anywhere else. Like yes I get Nico is your cute little emo gay, but tf is it with making him a victim HE WAS NOT A VICTIM IN????
Yes Percy choked him in TLO, that was wrong. But do you remember where he was? In a fkn cell of the actual underworld. Surrounded by death. Tricked into the situation by a person he trusted. All the while carrying the stress and burden of the prophecy child. So yes if he saw the said trickster again, IT DOESN'T MATTER THAT NICO DIDN'T INTEND IT, he would feel righteous anger and yes he acted out of it. Somehow you guys seem to keep forgetting that this little kid also was trying to kill Percy, trade his soul for his sister's the entire previous book. THAT somehow isn't mentioned by any of the nico stans here. Of course you wouldn't. He was 11, he was grieving, his anger was also righteous. But somehow it's toxic when Percy does it.
And then I saw somebody bring up the fact that Percy regularly has violent thoughts regarding Nico. First of all excuse me that's not true. He only felt murderous this one time in TLO and I doubt he would have actually done anything. Second of all he sees Nico as a little brother, one that isn't afraid to stab him in the back in Percy's eyes but little brother nonetheless. He is simultaneously annoyed by him and feels extremely sorry for him. He would die for the kid and seeing how cryptic Nico is always, it doesn't seem like Percy is wrong about being slightly cautious of him. It's not Nico's fault but it's not Percy's either. Stop this train of Percy mistreats Nico. Are we even reading the same books??? Percy got mildly offended when Nico listened to Amnabeth and not him in the battle of the labyrinth. Percy worried over Nico's disappearance. AND YES PERCY DOES FEEL RESPONSIBLE FOR BIANCA'S DEATH. THERE IS LITERALLY NO EVIDENCE ANYWHERE THAT HE BRUSHED HER DEATH OF. He DOES feel responsible for Nico. He did NOT talk shit about Nico on the Argo II. All he said was he had complicated loyalties. And Nico does have complicated loyalties. He looked in the eye of the amnesiac and told him no I don't know you. He never tells anyone his plans. Fucking stop it with the Percy bashing. Big part of Nico's arc is that people cast him out, Percy is the one person who really doesn't give a fuck
All you guys want is more reasons to feel sorry for the skrunkly emo, when in fact the emo is a way more complicated character than uwu everyone hates me
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I'll Always Be Your Shield
Thundertober/Inktober 2022 Day 1: Cave In
Gordon only has one little brother. He’s going to protect him. Even if it means being in the hot seat.
Continuity: TAG
Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou (Please ask if you would like to be alerted when I update or write new stories)
Here we go >:3 The very first Thundertober 2022 story! If you're interested, you can find the prompt list here.
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“You’re an idiot.” His older brother’s broke through the haze of painkillers and sedatives as Gordon slowly but surely awoke from his bout of unconciousness. He was so out of it, he had no idea what Virgil could be talking abo-
Oh. Oh.
The cave. The collapse. Gordon taking the full weight of the rocks and debris to shield his only little brother, who’s panicked and pleading face shone up at him in his memories. The aquanaut groaned inwardly. Not only did he have hell to pay from Virgil, but Alan probably had a few choice words for him as well. He should probably count himself lucky that Scott and John were likely still busy with other rescues, and weren’t in the room, or on a hologram, to chew him out as well.
“Alan’s been absolutely losing it out there.” The family medic pointed towards the door, where Gordon assumed his younger brother was currently pacing. “I’ll let him know you’re awake, but first things first…” Virgil took a deep breath, and Gordon braced himself for the righteous fury. “What were you thinking?! You know your back can’t take as much punishment as it used to! Who knows how long you’re gonna have to stay in here. Again.”
“I wasn’t thinking!” Gordon found himself snapping back. “It was a split second decision, and I couldn’t see any other solution!”
“Well, it wasn’t a very good one. You’ve had all of us worried sick.” Virgil gave him a look, before softening. “I know you want to protect Alan, all of us do. And I am proud of you for what you were willing to give up for his safety, and I’m sure the others will have a similar assessment, but our suits have certain protections built in for a reason.” The elder brother smiled gently, moving to adjust Gordon so he was sitting upright. “I recommend you learn how to use a few of them. Brains installed a device to stop falling debris a few weeks ago.”
“I know…” Gordon sighed. “I’m sorry, Virg.” He frowned. “But if I can’t protect my only little brother, what kind of big brother am I?”
Virgil rolled his eyes fondly. “Well, you’ve got three big brothers of your own you can ask to find out from…” The aquanaut grinned up at him gratefully. “And don’t think just because you’ve talked it out with me doesn’t mean Scott isn’t going to go all Smotherhen when he gets back. Or that Allie is going to back off any time soon…” Thunderbird 2’s pilot smirked.
“Of course not…”Gordon groaned, running a hand down his face. “Could you just let him in? I imagine he’s bouncing off the walls by now.”
Virgil nodded, chuckling, as he turned the handle and opened up the room to visitors. “Alan, he’s-” He was cut off when a blur of green flew past him as his youngest brother rushed to the side of his partner in crime.
“Gordon…” Alan practically cried. “What were you doing? Why’d you push me out the way like that?”
“Because, little brother…” The aquanaut smiled softly at his brother, pulling him into a one sided hug. Alan clung back, mindful of his injuries. “I’ll always be your shield…”
In the background, Virgil looked on with a smile on his face, happy in the knowledge that Gordon would be okay…
#thunderbirds#thunderbirds are go#thunderbirds fanfiction#thunderfam#gordon tracy#virgil tracy#alan tracy#thundertober 2022
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Behind The Scenes...
Selvadoradan Jungle, Selvadorada, 2:12am
(Part III)
Itzel: …
Gio: …
Itzel: I don’t buy it, you know, not for a second.
Gio: Buy what?
Itzel: This fake, double agent business. Your brother’s the one that’s got us all trapped here, imprisoned. Why would you try to undermine him?
Gio: Is it impossible to believe Luc and I never really got along?
Itzel: Then why go along with it all? If you hate your brother, why enlist and follow him across the world?
Gio: There’s not really a way to say ‘no’ to the Emperor. My father’s his right-hand man. It was self preservation, not righteous ferver, that brought me all the way here. But Rose and I have been friends since school. When I saw how they were treating her… I realized indifference was no longer an option… Besides, what have I even done to help? Smuggle a few letters between Rosie and her mother… what good is that…
Itzel: … I suppose that’s why she wants us to work together- to help you accomplish more.
Gio: I don’t know what I could even do. My brother watches me like a hawk. I think he suspects I’m not 100% on-side. That’s why I got sent here- to be taught how a 'true-born son of Windenburg' ought to act, to watch my brother and emulate him.
Itzel: I guess we’re both prisoners, then.
Gio: I wouldn’t dare compare my situation to yours. I certainly don’t have to sneak into the jungle to see my loved ones in secret…
Itzel: …
Itzel (cont.): Could… could you do something for me?
Gio: What?
Itzel: Could you smuggle a letter to my parents? I haven’t seen them since the occupation, I want them to know I’m alright. They must be so worried, me being imprisoned at the heart of it all…
Gio: Of course. Of course I could do that. I’m so sorry, Lady Itzel.
Itzel: Just Itzel is fine… and thank you.
Gio: You’re welcome… Itzel.
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"Please, don't go--mother!"
Outside of camp, the wailing, desperate cries of two tiny voices split the forest quiet. Dawn had barely begun to creep over the mountaintop, and as warriors stirred awake, unable to sleep through the cries, Dappleddusk was the first to rise.
Ignoring the mumble of confusion from Suntuft curled near her, Dappleddusk left the den first in a brisk walk, and then a gallop as the cries grew more distressed.
"Who is there?!"
Smoke-toned tail flagging high, fur fluffing out, she came to a sliding stop, foliage flying everywhere as her paws skidded across the ground.
In the distance, a lone she-cat.
Almost hidden by the trees, far out as she was, her silhouette remained distinctive enough for Dappleddusk to spot as she looked back over her shoulder. Barely could she see the glint of her green eyes.
"Mother--"
Distracted as she was by the trespassing stranger, she didn't even notice the pair of kits who had been her reason for running out.
The young tom-kit had made an effort to stumble after his leaving parent, while the tortie she-kit seemed locked in place.
Try as she may to maneuver with her forepaws, her hind legs would not heed her.
"I am not your mother anymore," called the she-cat, and Dappleddusk jerked her head up.
A flash of righteous fury filled her chest like wildfire.
"So don't call for me again."
"How dare you--how dare you abandon your own kits!"
In a screaming, indignant yowl, Dappleddusk started to take a step towards the other she-cat, but with every step taken forward, the loner retreated one step back, maintaining their distance.
"They're useless to me," said the she-cat, "and useless things are better abandoned."
The tom-kit tensed, while the she-kit lowered her head. Faintly, Dappleddusk could hear her sniffles as she held back sobs.
"Mother," tried the tom-kit, and was ignored.
"Now, they are your burden," the loner meowed, and before Dappleddusk could collect herself for another furious retort, she was gone.
Like mist in the morning sun, she vanished, and with her disappearance came the splitting, grieving cry of her tom-kit, devastated.
The she-kit remained quiet, but her body was trembling.
"I--I cannot believe--"
Shocked and dumbfounded into silence, so much so she never had a chance to get a second insult spat, the urge to chase after that she-cat and drag her back by her scruff left her paws itching.
How could she just--just abandon her own young?
A step forward was taken, and she stopped, paws rooting to the ground.
Tentatively, she looked back to the kits, who shied away from her, pressed to each other for comfort.
... No.
Being hot-headed in these circumstances was unwise.
"Hi, um..."
Turning around, fur slowly laying back flat, Dappleddusk tried to make herself small by sinking low to the ground.
"My name's Dappleddusk. What's your names?"
The two quivering kits shared a glance, and the tom-kit spoke up again.
He must be the advocate for the two.
"We... we don't have names," he meekly answered, and it was like another claw to the gut.
Not only would that she-cat be so cruel to leave her kits behind, but she couldn't even name them?
Some part of Dappleddusk hoped she would linger within their territory's borders simply so she could get out all of this rage.
"I, uh," Dappleddusk began, fumbling with her words.
Never had she been the maternal time, but her heart hurt so badly for these kits. It felt wrong to call to one of the other cats to shove them off onto when they already felt so unloved.
"... I'm sorry that you were left. But I promise it's safe here. There's even other kits here that I am sure would love to meet you."
The she-kit perked up at that while her brother remained hesitant.
"We have food and water and a warm place to sleep. I promise you're safe."
Visibly considering, eventually, it was the she-kit who broke the silence, her big, dark blue eyes overflowing with tears down her soft, fluffy cheeks.
"I-I miss my mommy," she whimpered, and Dappleddusk nodded in understanding.
"I know," she said, soft, "And that's okay. Can I help you into our camp?"
Both kits nodded, and she rose to her paws, finding that while the tom-kit could manage toddling along into the camp on his own, the she-kit was incapable, her back legs, as suspected, not listening to her.
But that was okay.
Here, they were safe, and they would be loved.
And StarClan help their mother if she ever showed her face again.
(other cats in this drabble):
#clangen#warriors#warrior cats#beekit#sunnykit#dappleddusk#(forgot i changed her name b4 these screenshots whoops)#abandonment tw
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Two for joy update!
Hit 30k and the Tary arc is done - the timeskip (and fluff I have planned for it) is so close I can taste it!
Have a lil sneak peek, for anyone watching my progress >:3c Under the cut!
“Oh darling,” Vex shushes. “Don’t you believe him!”
She palms one of the porous, spongestone type offerings Taryon had bought in handfuls at the bar below. “To shitty, shitty dads!”
Taryon taps his own stone to hers, seeming to catch the words only after he’s started to lift the - whatever it is. He gasps. “Wait! You have a shitty dad too??”
“The very shittiest,” says Vex. She knocks back the rock - best start working on whatever the Hells can offer for a hangover if she’s going to talk about this. Bad idea - it tinks against her teeth. She runs her tongue against them, to be sure nothing’s broken, as the odd essence seeps out and into her lips. Cold against her gums and tongue, like sinking your teeth into chips of ice, yet warm on the inhale.
“He’s - gods - my dad took my brother and I from our mother out of some privilege. For our pedigree.” At least the magical alcohol - or meal, or whatever the nearest equivalent to this is - burns hot on the way down. Good enough a substitute. “He had never even met us! Can you imagine?”
Taryon nods with as much righteous disgust as he can muster. Apparently a lot. “Awful! How dare he?”
“How dare he!” Vex agrees. “Some bullshit about his blood in our veins meaning we were worth more than -”
“For the family legacy?” he offers. That indignity is replaced by wet sniffling again - incredible how quickly he can vault between emotions. Like a creaky tap turned on for the first time in years, spouting water and rust and debris in turn. “My father wanted a son - I just don’t think he wanted me.”
“Not good enough for the bastard?”
Sniffs. “He doesn't like me. And he doesn't like the books I read, and he doesn't like that I like fantasy novels - and he doesn't like anything about me!” Taryon’s voice trails off, shrill and wobbly, as he nurses his rock.
“I don’t have a head for - for property values, or sales, or trying to get good people into buying a bad deal! So everything is going to my sister!”
Vex frowns, gestures to the contraption - sorry, mechanical servant - at the door. Doty’s back is a cherry red glow by now. The companion, unperturbed, continues to inscribe their conversation dutifully. “But Taryon - he’s lovely, your Doty! Could your sister do something that incredible?”
Taryon shrugs. “Probably. Knowing her. Not like Doty counts as proving myself - I need to make a name for myself, a Darrington name.”
“Well,” she says, “I don’t think she’d have lasted a second in the Hells. Or managed to get here at all. And I know” - a swallow - “a few people who would be extremely impressed by Doty. He should be proud. You should be proud!”
“Really?”
“Mmhm.” Vex nods, offering a wink. Not one of her particularly useful ones, just - friendly. Yeah, friendly.
“Thank you,” Taryon mumbles. “This really - it means so very much to me, little elf -”
“If you call me that one more time,” she says, sweetly, “I’m going to introduce you to my pet.”
“Wasn’t that your wolf?”
She grins, jesting. Mostly. “Oh, no - he’s more of a business partner. That would be Trinket - a grizzly bear. His teeth are about this big.”
He nods, suitably chastised. There’s quiet - Vex rocks her odd rock in her hand. Its weight circles with the movement, as though a glass half full. Taryon looks at his own, lost in thought, before meeting her gaze, hesitant.
“Can you call me Tary?” He asks, weakly.
Vex thinks back for a moment. Almost leans back to the wall until she remembers the heat of it. “Your friends call you Tary, right?”
He nods, a little meekly.
She smiles. “Alright, Tary.”
--
“What do you mean those were souls? And no one thought to come and tell us?”
Vax crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “We didn’t think you’d get to stuffing your face immediately!”
“There’s no icecream in the Nine Hells! We needed comfort food and this is what they had!”
“I’m going to be sick,” Tary mumbles.
Vex is inclined to agree. “Can Doty be used as a wastebin?”
“No! Why would you even-”
#vex is the raven queen's champion au#my writing#critical role#cr fanfic#critical role fanfiction#critical role fanfic#vex'ahlia#cr vex#taryon darrington#cr tary#they're besties ur honor and also complete fucking dolts#behold! bonding!
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@heartlcssboy :: continued from HERE !
what she loved most about peter was not his face or the way he laughed, or even the magic that took shape everywhere he wandered. to her, he was a book and every page of him that she turned held some new, unexpected twist. it was impossible to decipher the riddle of words that shaped this unreadable boy, making him all the more interesting. yet, no matter the downward spiral his story took her on, she could never bring herself to hate to it, to hate him. this made everything else ( her choler, melancholy, confusion ) all the worse, as if any feeling other than glee should be followed by guilt.
wendy tilted her head ever so slightly, watching from the corners of her peripheral as he inched forward. still, she stayed resolute, refusing to crumble under his grand performance of emotion. " you've forgotten ? how lucky you are, to forget things so easily. " ‘YOU MUST REMEMBER', she’d yelled so many times before. her brothers had forgotten everything, as did the ( first ) lost boys. peter, too, would forget things all the time, or at least pretend to. everyone else forgot whilst she was burdened with the blessing of remembrance. it wasn’t fair. even the memories she had been graced to ‘forget’ still lived deep in her mind, shrouded by thin fog. they lived in her bones and were etched into her muscle, never fully gone. never really forgotten.
finally turning, she faced him fully, yet azure irises did not fully meet his of clover green. seeing that sadness swimming in his eyes ( even if it was just a facade ) would be enough, and, just like that, his head would be rested in her lap, the darling’s temper snuffed out. a light hand would smooth over his mess of curls whilst she strung together some stupidly sweet story to make up for such rude behavior. still, sometimes, the girl couldn’t decide if peter enjoyed their conflict as much as he did the pleasantries. even without intention, it seemed too easy to upset him. a fallen tear, an innocent question, an old coat. the boy was a bomb, tick tick ticking away in search of anything to set it off. the eruptions were not cause for fear as much as the underlying certainty ( a voice in the back of her mind, a feeling in the pit of her stomach ) that something worse lurked under the rage.
“ what did you do ? well, nothing at all. you never do anything wrong, peter. yet, that night, all those apologies . . . so many sorries i couldn't even count. “ softness hardened, honeysuckle words replaced by bitter firmness. his temper need not be tip-toed around, nor was he a child deserving of her coddling. wendy didn’t want to be his mother any longer, the game had tired. “ tell me, peter, what could you possibly be so sorry for ? “ was it for sending me away, or waiting until i'd become old and boring before coming back, was what she didn’t ask, settling for a bothered sigh. “ maybe you were sorry for grabbing at me, but, then again, you never actually bothered to apologize for that. " an accusing finger flicked towards the fading dash that marred red cheeks. in the split second taken to snatch her face, muzzling her mouth and stealing her breath, wendy had been convinced he’d intended to fly them back to london as cruel punishment for acting too grownup, a terror that followed her to this very moment.
" oh, and the gall to dare say that i’m yours ! " a dry laugh followed the recollection. her apprehension at upsetting him, the fear that he could so swiftly steal everything back, slowly shriveled up. the girl was empowered by righteous anger, something that had been festering in the hollow of her being for months, possibly years. “ what a mean thing to say ! you can’t just throw me away to the ‘other place’ to then claim me as yours. what about me ? i survived the other place all on my own. not once did i forget neverland but, now, it's like i grew too big to fit here at all. i think i've been so terribly cross at you because, well . . . because you took too long and i grew too big. “ she fought back hot, angry tears. this boy utterly confused her, a quality she’d once found endearing or fascinating. now, it was only cause for upset. “ i did everything to come back. i was so good, peter ! "
crawling forward, the girl gingerly took peter’s hands in hers. brushing his knuckles with feathery lightness, outlining their roughness with the soft pads of her fingertips ( wondering how they weren’t littered with scars from his years of play ), she held them close, just over her chest as if he’d reach out and take hold of her heart. " i'm sorry, too, that i grew up at all. really, truly, i am. i couldn’t help it, but i won’t anymore. not even an inch. " her smile seemed sweet, but the tenderness did not last. mania made a home in the well of her eyes, as wild as the anxiety rooting itself in her head. her grip tightened with the strength of a starved snake, coiling and entrapping him in her embrace. a grip so tight that, without meaning to, the curves of her nails began to dig deep into his calloused palms. " but you can’t frighten me into behaving ! i won’t let you. i’m not a child anymore, i can’t be spooked by bogeys or monsters. and i won’t be banished, not again. not ever. " after that night, the faintest of memories had begun to clear past the fog of her mind. however, she'd decided it was nicer to forget. wendy couldn't remember everything from over the years, but she remembered the feelings, and remembering only hurt.
#*DIALOGUE : thread.#tumblr being goofy so i had to make a new thread#this is too long i tried to cut it shorter im sorry#she talks too much#i genuinely don't know why this is so long jkqebfkedk#she has such an unnecessary internal monologue#*PETER : promise to never forget me.
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Here are some of my other characters from the second story arc- the very few that actually have a design.
This is Keyland, one of the three main characters of the second story arc and the minister of defense who can't help but meddle in affairs that don't concern him. He only means well. Instead of waiting and arguing that his fellow ministers don't do anything to make life easier for the common folk, he takes action and argues with them at the same time.
His two trusted allies are the general of the southern troops, Avalanche, and the minister of science, Hytac, who share his concerns. They try to thwart the minister of finance's, Icador's, evil plans (listed further down in the text) and get the people to safety before they reach a point of no return.
When I first came up with the story, he was supposed to be the main antagonist of the first arc, but then I grew to like him so much that I made him one of the main characters of the second and thus gave him more hypothetical screen time in my head.
(artworks from 2020)
His twin brother Searchmark is head of the main religion on Aether, which cannot be compared directly to our world's biggest religions. His title, Luminescence of Aether, originates from the first fortune teller who was said to have a deep understanding of fate.
(Info dump: Her guiding hand shaped the belief of the people for centuries, and, unbeknownst to the public, she was truly a personification of their planet's energy. She was also the one who foretold nature's inevitable corruption through pollution and the arrival of a Chosen One -that was believed to be Om- who should cleanse it one day in the future.)
Outside of formal meetings, he drops his noble composure and likes to joke around with friends. He totally still has a crush on his former professor Polarfront. (They had an affair back when he was in the academy and he might or might not have broken his teacher's heart by starting their relationship as a bet/dare that turned into something serious.)
When he graduated, he joined the military. Due to an accident, he lost his eyesight, but his aristocratic family had connections with the church and his unwavering belief in the betterment of society let him pass through the ranks quickly. Now, as the Luminescence, he attends formal meetings and listens to the woes of his people. And sometimes sneak out to do whatever he wants to. All in all, he loves to stir up drama and do what he is not supposed to do, except when it interferes with his duty to the people.
I realised how much I've whitewashed everyone, I'm so sorry! Now they look like racist anime characters and I really feel bad about it.
(2021)
There is also Avalanche, the general of the southern troops and cousin of Polarfront who is also one of the three main characters in the second arc. She is a seasoned warrior and knows every inch of the Aetherian south pole like the back of her hand. She can and will tell you everything about survival under the harshest conditions should you ever ask her about it.
When she first meets Keyland, he is drunk as hell and rambles on about the injustice and oppresison of the population and how he wants to bash Icador's head in, but law prevents him from committing such crimes. She takes it with humor and when she is alone, she does her own research.
And would you look at that - it seems the minister of finance is investing a lot in illegal bioengineering. She teams up with Key and the ever-righteous Hytac in hope to reveal the truth to everyone, however, Icador does not like it when others stick their noses in his morally ambiguous business.
She has her troops behind her back and two trustworthy and powerful allies by her side, but is that enough to stop the greedy capitalist?
Her resemblance to two certain well-known characters is a lucky coincidence.
(2020)
(2021)
Icador is the minister of finances, the unofficial king of the Underground and a little gremlin. His goal is to make profit and is there any better way to do it other than making a bioweapon out of every following generation and turn them into warmongering science experiments that will need specialized, costly replacement parts and weaponry and whatnot if the war between the Diurnal Kingdom and Nocturnal Kingdom finally breaks out? He doesn't think so.
He secretly hires a group of talented scientists who are willing to play gods and create abominations. Because they don't have any morals, they immediately begin testing their DNA alteration on lowly citizens from the Underground no one will miss. The first batch sees only one survivor who will eventually be responsible for the start of the war and return as the fourth arc's main antagonist.
A friend says he reminds her of Hans from Frozen and I say he looks more like Sylvain from Fire Emblem Three Houses.
(2021)
Hytac doesn't have a design yet.
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Still Adam Milligan week, folks!
Day Four: favourite moments spotlight
Their first meeting was... intense. Terrifying. Awe-inspiring. Overwhelming.
In short, it was a hell of a day (pun fully intended).
Once Adam turned away from the door he couldn't hope to open anymore and caught sight of Michael's true form descending into the room... Well, he may have been a little dumbstruck in the moment. After all, in all his previous encounters with angels, they had just looked like humans. There was a hell of a difference between a white balding guy in a business suit and the magnificence that was the archangel Michael in his true form.
“DEAN,” Michael said, in a booming voice that made the room shake and Adam shiver. Then a myriad of eyes were all suddenly focused on Adam, while some peeked into the remaining corners of the room. “YOU'RE NOT DEAN.”
“No, sorry.” Adam winced. Even though he'd spoken loudly, his voice still sounded faint compared to that of the angel.
“YOU'RE THE BACKUP PLAN,” Michael said, some of his eyes congregating over Zachariah's dead body. A sound like thunder rumbled through the room, something that Adam would only later learn was the equivalent of a sigh. “SO I'M GUESSING THAT WENT GREAT.”
“The whole 'baiting Dean to come here and say yes to you' thing? Yeah. The first part worked, you know, but the second half... not so much.” Adam didn't know where he took the courage from to speak plainly with an archangel, but something about his presence was almost soothing.
Maybe it was just the fact that Michael hadn't killed him yet.
“WHY DOES THE RIGHTEOUS MAN HAVE TO BE SO STUBBORN? UGH.”
Or maybe it was the fact that Michael didn't speak like Adam imagined an archangel to speak. He just sounded like some guy. (The voice that could make your eardrums burst notwithstanding.)
“I think it comes with the whole righteousness,” Adam said. “So, uh, anyway. What now?”
Michael was silent for a moment, his true form shifting as he considered this. “WELL. I HAVE AN IDEA, BUT FIRST I MUST ASK: ARE YOU AS STUBBORN AS YOUR BROTHER?”
Adam's eyebrows rose to his hairline.
So maybe he wouldn't just be a clammy scrap of bait, after all, huh?
“I suppose that really depends,” he said, stepping a little closer. “What's in it for me?”
All of the archangel's eyes blinked at him in confusion.
#Yes my favourite Adam moment is him turning around to a being so bright and terrible that it burns people's eyes out just by appearing#And just going :O#I love this insane little man#adam-week-2022#Adam Milligan#Midam (kinda)#Quick writing
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