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senorabond · 5 months

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Rumor Has It: Chapter 7 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Javier Peña x f!reader; Marcus Pike x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 7 Summary: The case is progressing more quickly than expected, presenting the first opportunity to set the bait for the narcos. When plans for the undercover operation go awry, you have to think and act fast. Meanwhile, whatever is going on between you and Javi gets kicked into high gear.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, previous relationship (Marcus x f!Reader), boss!Marcus, slowburn, workplace romance, ohh the yearning, fake relationship, protective!Javi, Dom/sub dynamic, precisely (1) spank, almost caught, please just fuck already

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 8k

Author’s Note: I am SO happy to finally post this! I’ve been sick with back-to-back viruses ever since November, so I’ve been slowly chipping away at this chapter. It’s super plotty and a lil smutty, but I had to kick Javi and Reader in the ass to move this shit along somehow. I have so many thots and ideas for these two, especially when we get to see more of Marcus. As always, a HUGE thank you to my dear, sweet, lovely beta @kilamonster, who lets me torture her endlessly with all the dirty things that come to mind and for correcting my atrocious Spanish. 💋💜

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

The Next Morning Washington, D.C.

There’s a knock at Marcus’ office door and a grinning man pokes his head inside. He’s got a slight build, and sandy hair that falls across his forehead in natural waves. You had always told Marcus this agent reminded you of that weaselly guy in Dirty Dancing, Neil, and he can certainly see it now. Though the resemblance was probably more down to personality than looks.

"Sir, you wanted to see me?" The man asks, waiting for permission to enter.

"Yeah, Wilkins, come in – and shut the door.” Wilkins has to halt midway to turn around and close the door and is looking a bit less confident now as he sits down in the chair across from Pike.

Pike fixes the smaller man with a neutral expression. He'll give Wilkins a chance to be honest and forthright, but he’s not going to beat around the bush.

"Did you receive a call from a DEA agent about helping them with a potential art money laundering case?"

Wilkins' eyes grow wide for a second, and he stumbles a bit over his next words. "Uh, I'm not sure, maybe?"

"Maybe?" The fewer words Marcus gives Wilkins to work with, the more he'll have to come up with himself, and the less he’ll be able to turn Marcus’ words back around on him – a common interrogation technique.

"I remember a call from somebody at the DEA, but I don't think I recall the specifics." Wilkins fidgets with his tie.

Marcus keeps his face neutral, but laces his fingers together on his desk and leans forward, closing the space between them. "What do you recall?"

"He might have mentioned some drug dealers." Wilkins, a man with an ego the size of Nationals Park, has already been reduced to a little boy getting in trouble at school.

"Being that he's DEA, that would make sense." Pike says blandly, waiting for Wilkins to continue.

"Yeah. And... there might have been some talk about art." Wilkins’ voice is small, tentative. He knows he’s been caught out, and it’s no small matter.

"That's interesting. And why do you think this DEA agent called us – the FBI art squad – about art?"

Wilkins doesn't say anything in response. He knows there's nothing else he could say in his defense at this point.

"Do you know who that DEA agent was, Wilkins?"

Wilkins juts his chin out defiantly. "No, Sir."

"You might, if you'd bothered to get his name." Wilkins has grown sullen, already tired of the tongue lashing.

Pike has no patience for this guy’s attitude. Normally, Marcus wouldn’t draw out disciplinary issues like this, on the rare occasions he has them with his crew. But this guy has pissed him off too many times.

"That was Special Agent Javier Peña. You might have heard of him, made the news awhile back." Marcus leans back in his chair, watches Wilkins’ petulant shrug.

"He put away Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, remember them?" Wilkins doesn’t respond, but there’s recognition in his eyes. "So when Javier fucking Peña calls to ask for help, that's probably when you should tell your superior.”

Marcus pauses, waiting for Wilkins to say something, anything, but he just sits there.

“Do you agree?" Marcus prompts, each word punctuated.

"Yes, Sir." The man replies, his tone clipped.

"Glad to hear it."

"Is that all?" Wilkins stands, and Marcus fights the urge to stand as well. But there’s power in showing you’re confident enough to not rely on being physically overbearing.

"No, I'll tell you when that's all. There have been some rumors floating around the office for a while now.” Finally, what Marcus has wanted to confront Wilkins about for months.

“I tried to ignore them, thinking it was just some office gossip, but then one of our best liaisons at Customs fast-tracked a transfer.” Marcus has to take a breath, the lead ball in his stomach growing heavy. “Some of that office gossip was about her. Know anything about that, Wilkins?"

"No, Sir." Wilkins shifts from foot to foot, glancing around the office nervously. Marcus lets him squirm for a bit longer.

"That's good. Because if you did know something about who was spreading those harmful rumors – rumors that affect the lives and careers of federal agents who outperform you on any given day – we’d be having a very different conversation."

Wilkins stands rigid, eyes wide.

"That's all." Marcus turns back to his computer and without giving Wilkins another glance.

______________________________________________________________

That Afternoon Texas

The briefing went off without a hitch. You could feel Javier's smile on you from the other side of the briefing room while you talked through each of the slides. Your stomach was in your throat, but Javier's presence gave you the bit of confidence you needed every time you glanced his way.

The other agents ask questions you and Javi had anticipated and discussed thoroughly the day before, and even a few you didn’t prepare for. Once you answer their questions flawlessly, Javier dismisses the group to their respective assignments. Several of them shake your hand on their way out.

Javi stands back and watches the crowd file out, then saunters over to you. You’re beaming a smile at him and fight the urge to throw your arms around him in a grateful embrace.

“That was…” You shake your head in disbelief, eyes as wide as your smile.

“‘Amazing.’ You can say it.” He’s smiling in return and leans a slim hip against the table, crossing his arms.

“It was amazing! God, that felt good.” Adrenaline pumps through your limbs in a rush.

“You did a great job today.”

“Thanks, I had a lot of help.” You start to gather the briefing materials and Javi jumps in, working his way around the opposite side of the table. You meet on the other side, where he adds the stack from your hands to his own.

“Not as much as you think.” Javier tucks the stack of briefings under his arm and gives you a friendly wink. Friendly, yet it still manages to set those butterflies flitting again. You haven’t felt this moony over a guy in…well, awhile.

The rest of the day goes by like a blur. Javier introduces you to the two agents he’s assigning to report directly to you for the duration of the case – Diaz and Tran – and the three of you get to work immediately. The first thing you do is get in touch with the closest ports of entry to see what high-priced artwork may have crossed in or out of the country within the past few months.

You lose yourself in piles of customs reports, flagging anything that catches your eye, and before you know it, Javier appears at your desk, knocking on the wall of your cubicle. Blinking, you’re surprised to see that the office has emptied out.

“Hey,” he says softly.

Your eyes widen when you see that it’s past seven o’clock on your computer screen. “Jesus, no wonder I was starting to go cross-eyed.”

You start putting the reports away in your bag, intending to look at them some more at home. The excitement and buzz of the day is fading, and the fatigue finally starts setting in.

"Want to grab a drink?" Javier has his jacket over his arm, a hand casually in his pocket.

"Can I take a rain check?" You feel bad saying no, because you actually would like to have a drink with Javi.

“Are you going to keep working at home?”

“That was the plan,” you admit sheepishly.

“Then, no.”

“‘No,’ what?”

“No rain check. Let’s go – there will be plenty more to do tomorrow. I had to learn that the hard way.” Javier reaches over and takes your bag.

You let out a long-suffering sigh for dramatic effect and shut down your computer. As you join Javier, he splays a broad hand between your shoulder blades, guiding you to the elevator. You barely have a chance to register the warmth of his hand before it drops, leaving pleasant tingles in its wake.

The silence between you is born from that day’s weariness, yet it feels comfortable. Javi takes you to the same bar as before, and you grab the same table in the back while he orders you each a beer. A server brings a couple of glasses of water over as well, which you find a sensible choice, given how tired you feel already.

Javier settles back in his chair with a groan and starts taking off his tie. As he stretches his long neck, you try not to stare, but those freckles and prominent veins hold your gaze. He takes a long pull from his bottle of beer, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

Tearing your eyes away, you focus on the rings of condensation your beer bottles have left on the table and try to think of anything to talk about. Before you can think of something, Javier speaks up.

“I got a call today.” He’s fiddling with the label on his beer bottle, peeling it back. His knee bounces under the table, jiggling close enough that you can feel the edge of his pant leg against yours.

When he doesn’t continue, you prompt him with a soft, “Oh?” and take a swig of your beer.

“It was the FBI art squad getting back to me.”

You pause before swallowing, determined to play this cool. “About time.”

“Yeah, the guy was really apologetic. He said they could assign a couple of people to help us with whatever we need.” Javier finishes pulling the label off his bottle, all in one piece.

“That’s great!” You hope Javi can hear the genuine enthusiasm you feel in your voice. “My contact said they’d help, but wasn’t sure what they could do.”

“I spoke to the agent in charge, Pike. Do you know him?” He keeps his large, brown eyes on you as he takes another sip of beer.

Schooling your features, you dare yourself to meet his gaze. “I do, yeah.”

“Have you worked with him before?” Javier tilts his head a fraction, watching you.

“That case I finished before transferring, he and I worked on that together.”

“Closely?”

“What are you trying to get at?” You counter, putting your beer down harder than you intended, your hackles starting to rise.

“Nothing.” Javier shakes his head and looks down at his beer, but you can see a hint of a smirk appearing under his mustache.

Huffing, you slouch and take a sip of your beer, then cross your arms, feeling a little like a child. “Yes.”

“Hmm?” Javi looks up at you through his lashes. Those damned eyes of his. He could bring entire cartels to their knees with those eyes.

“Yes, he’s the person I had a… thing with.” You cross one leg over the other, bouncing it peevishly.

“Sounds complicated,” Javier remarks, not unkindly.

You shrug, as though to say it was nothing. As though the time you spent with Marcus didn’t mean anything to you, and wasn’t the healthiest relationship you’d ever been in, even if it didn’t have the label society demanded. You’re embarrassed to feel the sting of tears in your eyes and turn your face away from Javi before he can see.

“I understand complicated,” Javi says, his soft words a balm to soothe your injured heart.

The beers are finished in contemplative silence. Both of you take plaintive sips of water, mindful of the drives ahead and the weariness you’re each already fighting.

Neither of you seem to mind that the space between you is shrinking, or that your legs rest gently against each other’s under the table. Neither of you flinch or pull away when the backs of your hands wrapped around your water glasses touch. When Javi’s thumb grazes your knuckles, you only look at him, but his face stays turned down determinedly.

You move your thumb against his in a soothing repetition. Slowly, but without hesitation, Javi takes your hand in his, linking your fingers, and you give a gentle squeeze. Your breath slows, the noise of the bar fades, and the tension in your muscles unwinds as you inhale and exhale in time with Javi.

Without a word, without a glance, Javi pulls you to your feet and begins to lead you out of the bar.

It’s completely dark now, but the goosebumps erupting across your arms aren’t from any chill in the air. Holding tight to Javi’s hand, you follow swiftly behind him. He lengthens his stride, shoulders back and jaw set.

About half a block from your office building, Javier pulls you around a corner and onto a darkened side street. You let him lead you without thinking, completely trusting him. But before you can blink, he’s got you pressed up against the wall of a building, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other around your waist. Instinctively, your hands grip onto the lapels of his jacket to not lose your balance.

Everything Javier does is purposeful, focused, intentional – he is not a man to lose complete control of himself, especially when he feels out of control. With his face mere inches from yours, and the faint scent of beer on his breath, he speaks.

“Tell me to stop.”

Javi’s tongue pokes out and licks his plump bottom lip. The cool stone of the building at your back is a welcome relief from the heat pooling in your lower belly.

“W-what?” A glance at his eyes, black from the shadows around you, makes your knees shake.

“If you don’t want this, tell me now.” The hand on the back of your head gently eases down to cup your face, and Javi caresses your cheek with his thumb.

“Please,” he pleads in a whisper, his lips a hair’s breadth from your own. “Before I do something I’ll regret.”

“Don’t…” Your breath shakes.

A sigh from Javi’s lips is warm on your face. Almost imperceptibly, Javi nods and begins pulling away. You tighten your grip on his jacket, holding him in place.

“I mean - don’t stop.”

Javi’s smile changes his entire face, and the tension in his shoulders eases.

“Cariño,” he murmurs, resting your foreheads together and nudging your nose with the tip of his.

Before Javi can do more than brush his lips against yours, a small group of people pass by on the sidewalk a few feet away. This close to the office, it’s very possible they work in the same building – might have even come from the same bar. Fortunately, Javier reacts quickly. He shifts your bodies and tucks your head into his chest, blocking the light from the nearby street lamp – and their view of you – entirely.

Their chattering ceases abruptly as they spot your forms in the shadows, one letting out a quiet, “Whoops,” under his breath. Another sniggers, and they continue on their way. You think you hear one of them whisper Peña a bit too loudly and get shushed by their companions.

Javier holds you there a few more moments, your bodies molded to one another in the dark. Stilling your pounding heart, you breathe in his scent and run your hands around his back, underneath his suit jacket. The muscles of his back are firm under your hands. He presses his face to the top of your head and wraps his arms around you in return. For a while, you stay there together, breathing in sync and savoring this stolen moment.

Eventually, Javier starts to pull away, and you reluctantly let go. He leans in, and tenderly places a kiss to your forehead, your cheek, and your ear. Softly, he says, “Come on, cariño, I’ll walk you back to your car.”

Holding hands again, your pace is much slower this time. There seems to be an understanding that what you just experienced was too close a call. Still, neither of you are in any hurry for this to end, whatever it is.

At your car, Javier stands back with his hands in his pockets while you open the door and toss your bag inside.

“Get home safe, cariño.”

“You too, Javi.”

In your mirror, you see him give a small wave as you drive away.

~*~*~*~

It was stupid to ask you to grab a drink after work. Javier doesn't really understand what motivated him to ask you in the first place.

That’s a lie – he knows exactly why he asked you, why he asked you about Pike, why he dragged you out of that bar. You're on his mind all the time now, to the point of distraction. Javier sees you when he closes his eyes, pictures you lying next to him when he’s going to sleep, tries to imagine the feel of your skin, soft on his fingertips. The only relief he feels is when he's with you in the flesh.

It’s selfish of him, he realizes, to want these things from you. You haven’t said much about what happened in D.C., but it was enough for him to understand that he can’t put you in that position again. People are cruel, especially to women.

With a heaving sigh, Javier rolls over in bed. Even if he can’t allow himself to act on his desires, he can let go a little in his mind. For a moment, he lets himself indulge in the fantasy of having you, fueled by the memories of your fingers laced with his, the heat from your back where he placed a gently guiding hand, the scent of your shampoo when he kissed your face.

Javier imagines what it would feel like, being able to touch and feel you in those natural ways people together do: your arms wrapped around his chest and kissing the back of his neck and shoulders, the weight of you seated on his lap, caressing all of your lines and curves. All the things he could do with you, just because you’re his.

______________________________________________________________

Five Days Later Texas

You’ve never seen a case get off the ground and progress so quickly. In the last few days, the DEA managed to bring in the art gallery couple suspected of planning a money laundering deal with the narcos under investigation. Not only did the couple admit to their plan, but they agreed to cooperate with the investigation in exchange for immunity.

The gallery was hosting a special exhibit opening that night, and the narcos – Castano and Lopez – were confirmed guests. The timing was perfect to introduce Peña and another agent, Bateman, who would be posing undercover as business partners in competition with the art gallery owners. But that meant their task force had to act fast to get everything organized and ready in time.

Surveillance had been placed on Castano and Lopez, and the agents tailing them were sending in frequent reports on the men’s movements. They had already arranged transportation to get them to the gallery event after dining at an expensive restaurant nearby. Their dirty money certainly didn’t stop them from enjoying a lavish lifestyle.

You check over the information on the tablet in your hands. Posing as an event coordinator gave you access to all areas of the gallery, service entrances, back rooms, the whole shebang. It also gave you the ability to watch a live video feed of all the cameras placed around the gallery, right from your tablet, and listen in on the audio through the wires Peña and Bateman would be wearing.

A few other agents were staged as caterers, wait staff, and private security detail for the special event, but this evening would only have one mission: get the narcos interested in finding out what Peña and his “business partner” could offer. He and Bateman were already out on the gallery floor, mingling with the crowd, and looking at the art.

Javi was wearing a dark blue suit, fitting snugly to his broad shoulders and tapering in at his slim waist. He’d obviously taken extra time grooming himself that evening, because he had some kind of pomade in his hair that added a sleek wave, and his mustache was neatly trimmed. It was criminal how fucking good he looked.

Surveillance checks in to report an ETA of approximately 10 minutes. Letting out a deep breath, you tap out a message on your tablet with the ETA and send it to Javi’s phone. Through your earpiece, you hear Javi’s phone ding, a pause, and then his voice mutters, “Copy.”

Things between you and Javier that week had been a bit tense, to say the least. The two of you orbited each other, coming close yet never touching before being slingshot back out in opposite directions.

The memory of his arms around you and his lips ghosting across your mouth kept you warm each night. You continuously waffled back and forth between reprimanding yourself for even thinking about indulging in another workplace fling, and craving him like a drug. It was maddening.

Diaz’s voice in your ear says, “Targets have arrived, entering now.” You message Javi, and he confirms he has eyes on them. He and Bateman continue circulating a bit, keeping an eye on Castano and Lopez, but blending with the crowd for now. Things are right on track.

Closing your eyes for a moment, you take a deep breath and lean against a wall in the back corridor. The coolness of the wall reminds you of the cool stone against your skin in that alleyway. You let the radio chatter in your earpiece fade as you remember the heat from Javi’s hands, the strength of his arms and chest, the smile on his lips when you told him ‘don’t stop.’ Heat pools in your lower belly, imagining what could have happened if you hadn’t been interrupted.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You hear Javi’s voice in your ear and your eyes fly open. A few taps on your tablet and you’re watching video from a nearby camera. Bateman is gripping his abdomen and grimacing in pain.

“Yeah, just this stomach ache. I’ve had it for days.” Bateman gestures to his lower right side. Something tells you that’s no mere stomach ache.

Quickly, yet calmly, you bustle over to their location and assume your best event coordinator voice. “Sir, is everything alright? Can I get you some water?”

Bateman tries to wave you off, but is interrupted as another wave of pain hits him and he doubles over. Javi watches his partner and concern knits his brow.

“Boss, the targets are headed in your direction, I think they’re trying to check out what’s going on,” Tran’s falsetto says over the radio.

You lay a hand on Bateman’s shoulder, lowering your voice to say, “We need to get him out of here.”

You put your arm around Bateman’s hunched shoulders and say loudly enough for some of the looky-loos to hear you, “Everything’s alright, Sir. Please come with me.” You give a meaningful look to Javi and gesture for him to come with you.

The gallery owners have a small office in the back that’s part of a larger storage area with a loading dock for larger works of art. You take Bateman and Javi back to the office, passing through the swarm of catering staff, who have been using the storage room as their staging area. Pulling out one of the office chairs, you guide Bateman to sit. Diaz bursts into the small room, dressed in the typical black attire of private security, worry etched across his face.

“Nick? Talk to me – what’s happening?” Diaz’s voice is a bit tremulous, but he takes charge and gets on the radio to report an agent down. You’ve seen how close Diaz and Bateman are at the office and wonder if there’s something more between them than friendship.

Javi catches your eye and nods his head to the side, indicating for you to both exit the office. Following him a bit down the hallway, you step close to his side to escape the bustle of caterers with trays of hors d'oeuvres.

“What’s happening?” Javi wipes a hand over his mustache and flicks a finger at your tablet.

He leans over to look at your screen and you swipe through several views until you spot Castano sipping on champagne and Lopez looking bored. The latter was the one, if memory serves, who made the comment about modern art being just a bunch of splattered paint.

The scent of Javi’s cologne and his closeness make your hands tremble. You haven’t been this close to him since he almost kissed you. In fact, his face was near enough to your own that you could easily turn your head and place your lips to the side of his neck or shoulder. Your head swims at the thought.

Hazarding a glance up, you see out of the corner of your eye that Javi isn’t looking at your tablet anymore either. His chest rises and falls, brushing your arm with every inhale. Those dark chocolate eyes are nearly black, his pupils wide and intense. Seconds tick by that could be minutes, both of your bodies frozen in place.

Movement on the screen in your hands catches your attention and breaks the reverie. You can’t let yourself be distracted by whatever is happening between you and Javi. Not now, on this big of a case – your first opportunity to really prove that you’re capable on your own, and not someone who fucks their way up the ranks.

Javi takes half a step back, and you clamp your teeth down on your lower lip to stifle a sigh at your loss. How the hell are you supposed to focus with all of these feelings and urges flying through your body?

Clearing his throat, Javi rasps, “I better get back out there.”

You nod your head in agreement. “Yeah. That’s good, I’ll - uh, check on Bateman.” Javi moves to leave but pauses.

“You’re doing great,” he whispers next to your ear, his touch on your lower back light as a feather before slipping off back into the crowded gallery. You fight the urge to run after him and shift your focus back to Bateman. Stepping back into the office, Diaz is already on the radio, arranging transportation for the two of them to the hospital.

“I think it’s his appendix,” Diaz says to you quietly when you walk over.

You grimace. Shit.

Bateman was chosen to be Javi’s partner in this operation because he could carry a conversation about art and make it convincing. Javi – to use his own words again – doesn’t know shit about art.

Looking down at your tablet, you tap through the various video feeds and see that the narcos are in the same section of the gallery as Javier. Switching the channel on your earpiece, you listen in on the audio feed coming from his wire.

You’re not sure if Javi is genuinely distressed over Bateman’s condition, or if he’s acting it up to try and draw the attention of the narcos, but you can hear his labored breathing from his wire. Could he be nervous? You select the video feed with the best vantage and see Javi rubbing the back of his neck and fiddling with his tie.

With Javi’s breathing in your ear, you make up your mind. You can’t let him finish this alone.

“Diaz, you got this?”

“Yes, ma’am. Transport will be here in less than five minutes.”

You’re already setting down your tablet and removing the curlicue wire from behind your ear.

“Good. Report in once you get him seen to.” Diaz nods, but watches you curiously.

Next goes your blazer and the clip holding your hair back. You grab your purse and find the red lipstick, quickly applying a fresh coat to your lips.

“Well, how do I look? Can I pass as a shady art dealer’s girlfriend?” You step back and smooth down the dress you were wearing under the blazer.

You don’t have many occasions to wear the black cocktail dress, but for tonight you needed something more stylish than your regular work clothes. Its V-neckline is relatively modest, but the smooth material clings to your curves in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Diaz gives you a once over and says, “With all due respect, Boss…you look hot.”

“Thanks,” you fluff your hair a bit, using your reflection in the office’s window. “Bateman, take it easy. We’ve got this.” Bateman groans in response and you rush out the door.

You’re flying blind now – no eyes or ears on anything but what’s in front of you. Tran spots you and cocks her head quizzically, but otherwise doesn’t break her cover as she approaches you with a tray of champagne flutes.

Grabbing a glass, you mutter, “Bateman is down, I had to do something.” She nods and quirks an amused lip.

“I like your dress,” she mutters back. You toss back the rest of the champagne in your glass for courage, and Tran hands you another to take its place.

“Thanks, so does Diaz.” Tran snorts and pivots to offer champagne to a cluster of guests nearby.

The three of you gelled almost immediately, and you felt immensely grateful. Their support on the case made you feel at ease with being in charge of a team. You wonder if Javi assigned Diaz and Tran on purpose, thinking you’d all suit one another.

Javier, Castano, and Lopez are still in the same gallery space, admiring adjacent pieces. Well, Lopez is digging a finger into his ear, but at least Castano seems genuinely interested.

Seemingly more relaxed now, Javi stands with his back slightly to you, leaving his body language open to the targets. But you already know him better than the casual observer. The veins in Javi’s neck are more prominent, and you tamp down the urge to lick them. He’s practically vibrating like a plucked wire, but his shoulders are relaxed, one hand casually in his pocket. Fuck, he looks good in that suit.

Taking a deep breath, you decide you’ll just have to go for it. It’s just for tonight, after all.

“Babe!” A few people turn their heads to look at you, including the three men you needed to take notice.

You shuffle over on your tiptoes to not break an ankle in your heels, and Javi – to his credit – doesn’t react beyond a shift in his eyes and a twitch of his jaw.

“Oh, my god! I’ve been looking for you everywhere, babe.” You practically throw yourself at Javi and cling to his side. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other hand coming out of his pocket to lightly grasp your bare arm.

“I saw poor Nicky – he didn’t look so good,” you say, placing your free hand on Javi’s chest and adding a touch of real concern to your voice.

Javier’s entire demeanor shifts with you in his arms, his body relaxes, immediately falling into lockstep with you. You’re impressed at how quickly he responds to this curveball. Neither of you could have prepared for something like this.

“Yeah, he decided to head home, probably just ate something bad.” Javi took everything in stride. “You’re feeling okay, right?” He pulls back a bit to take you in, like he’s checking you over for bumps and bruises.

“Yeah, baby, I’m okay. But…” you drop your voice to a stage whisper, aware that at least Lopez is paying attention to this little charade. “What about the you-know-what?”

Javi glances around like he’s worried somebody might hear you. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out. He wasn’t moving it until next week anyway.” Javi kisses your temple. You nod, seemingly pacified, and offer your glass to him.

He smirks, and instead of taking it from your hand, he leans down and places his lips to the rim. You let out a little giggle and tilt the glass for him. A little dribbles over the side of his mouth, dripping off his mustache. Letting out a mock tutting sound, you wipe it away with your thumb and lick the remnants from your skin.

Your eyes meet, and you melt a bit, seeing that Javi’s pupils are completely blown.

“I can’t take you anywhere,” you tease, managing to regain composure.

“I know exactly where you can take me,” he fires back, and – to your utter shock and private enjoyment – squeezes your ass.

“Babe!” You gasp, and hit him playfully on the arm. Looking around nervously, you notice Lopez staring lasciviously at this public display, and you still, clearing your throat. Javi notices, and follows your gaze to Lopez, who is now adjusting his pants by his gaudy belt buckle.

“Hey - qué pasa contigo?” Javi’s face morphs into something serious and intimidating.

The two men exchange some words in rapid Spanish, and Castano gets involved. You’re genuinely flummoxed, not understanding what the men are saying, but it’s clear Castano is trying to apologize for Lopez’s rudeness and making amends.

You tug at Javi’s arm to pull him back to you, running a soothing hand over his chest. “Come on, baby. It’s fine.”

“I want an apology,” Javi says, stubbornly.

“Lo siento, Señor,” Lopez mutters, and Javi shakes his head.

“An apology to her,” he clarifies, his eyes boring holes into Lopez’s forehead.

Lopez repeats himself, but can’t meet your eyes. Castano steps forward and reaches out a hand. Without thinking, you place your hand in his, and he holds it between his own. You know what this man before you is capable of, what he’s suspected and guilty of, and you fight the urge to shudder.

“Miss, I am so sorry for my associate’s bad manners,” Castano begins in lightly accented English. “When a woman as beautiful as you is nearby, any man would take notice.”

Pretending to be flattered and appeased, you dip your head. Castano – a slim man of equal height – bends at the waist formally and brushes dry lips to your knuckles. You turn a disgusted curl of your lip into a demure smile.

“Thank you,” you simper.

Javi says something to Castano in Spanish, and the two begin to converse, their tone much more pleasant now with formalities out of the way. He drops his arm from your waist and joins Castano at the painting he’d been admiring.

You catch Lopez’s eye and let the corner of your mouth tilt up as you take a sip of your champagne, now warm and flat. The man – squat, with a thick unibrow under a greasy forehead – is the kind of fish you want to keep on the hook for a while. It lets them think they’re winning.

“Cariño,” Javi says and beckons you to join the men.

Sauntering over, you let the high heels do their job and smile sweetly up at him. The conforming dress rises up your thighs a bit higher than you’d be comfortable with in real life, but you decide to leave the hem where it rests when you see Javi’s eyes rake over your exposed skin. The hair on your arms stands up, and the heat in your core begins to rise.

“Señor Castano has a question about this piece, and I told him you were the brains between us,” he winks, and your breath hitches.

Over the next ten minutes, you speak knowledgeably about the art on exhibit in the gallery. You’d never felt more grateful for the times Marcus would get excited about a case or piece of evidence and animatedly answer your questions while sharing takeout from one of your regular haunts. There’s a sudden pang in your chest.

Just as suddenly, Javi is right behind you, stroking the backs of his fingers up and down a bare arm. His left hand is on your hip, caressing his thumb over the thin fabric of your dress. You relax into his touch, melting back into him until you feel the swell of your ass meet the front of his pants.

Javi sucks in a sharp breath, and his fingers on your hip tighten their grip. You’re trying to focus on Castano’s words, but you feel Javi’s breath shudder a bit as he makes the smallest of movements with his hips, pressing himself into your ass.

“...and that’s why we’re here tonight, drinking champagne, admiring the works of art on display… and speaking with beautiful women,” Castano finishes. The smile on his face would be genuinely charming if you didn’t already know what a deplorable human being he is.

“Mi amor loves talking about art, I only wish I knew more. She and my partner could talk all night about our latest deals–” Javi stops himself short, pretending that he’s let something slip.

Castano’s eyes go sharp, but his smile barely changes. Showing a bit of intelligence, even Lopez perks up at this false faux pas. You’re surprised he was even listening, he’s been so busy shoveling canapes into his mouth and ogling the other women nearby.

“Ah, so you are art dealers then!” Castano exclaims. “Little wonder Señorita is so knowledgeable.”

You move your left hand to caress Javi’s on your hip. Not sure if Castano thinks you and Javi are married, or he’s just being polite, you’d rather play it safe and leave your ring fingers out of his sight until you and Javi can speak privately.

“My partner is really the art dealer, it’s a shame you couldn’t meet him tonight. I’m just another man of business.”

“And what line of business are you in, Señor?” Castano asks.

“Please, call me Javi,” he says with a casual wave of his free hand. “And I’m in whatever line of business is good – I’ve done a bit of this, a bit of that. Here, have my card.”

Javi fishes out the prop business card from the inner breast pocket of his suit jacket. “I represent my client’s business interests, whatever they may be.”

Castano takes the card and glances it over, then hands it to Lopez to hold. “And your clients are interested in art?”

“Some are. That’s how I met mi alma. She was working at the private gallery my new partner owns.” Javi stands next to you, keeping his fingers locked with yours on your hip, and smiles down at you.

You have to remind yourself that none of this is real, it’s all for the cover – and a last-minute cover, at that. None of this was supposed to happen. But standing there, basking in the warmth of Javi’s affection, your heart races a bit and you give him a genuine smile in return.

“And the rest is history,” you finish with a small shrug of your shoulder, then rest your head on Javi’s shoulder for a second. Lopez’s phone rings and he turns away to answer it quietly, then taps Castano on the shoulder deferentially.

“Well, Javi, Señorita,” Castano nods at each of you in turn. “I would love to treat you to dinner soon. I have a new case of vintage bordeaux and a new painting I’m looking for any excuse to show off. I’ll have my associate call to make the arrangements. Please, bring your business partner.”

Javi nods and shakes Castano’s hand. The two men leave, and you see Lopez stuff a napkin full of food into his suit pocket. Castano rolls his eyes in exasperation and glides away to the front exit.

Javi gives your waist a squeeze, and you turn to face him, smiles on both of your faces. You hover for a minute, just in case the men return, but then Tran comes by with another tray of champagne.

“May I take your glass, ma’am?” Javi takes the glass from your hand and sets it gently on the tray. He busies himself by taking another so Tran can murmur, “They’re off the premises, tracking in place.”

Javi nods and sips the champagne. Tran moves away once more. A couple beats pass, and Javi sets the champagne down on a nearby cocktail table, grips your hand tightly, and starts pulling you in the direction of the back office.

This time you struggle more to keep up with him, not in your usual office attire. Javi is pulling at his tie and undoing the top buttons of his shirt. In the back storage area, Javi drops your hand and makes a beeline into the small office.

You slow almost to a stop, a bit winded from practically jogging in heels. Javi turns and meets your eye. Seeing the intensity in his face, you pause before the threshold and worry flits across your mind.

Maybe Javi’s actually upset with you for going rogue, for jumping in and messing with the plan. Maybe he’s just really good undercover, and you projected your own desires onto his smiles and touches. He silently crooks two fingers, bidding you to join him in the office.

Steeling your spine, preparing for a fight, you pull your shoulders back and strut into the office. Closing the door behind you, you take a breath, ready to go toe-to-toe with Javi if that’s what it takes to prove you were in the right.

You made an executive decision in what could have been a crisis, and you’ll stand by that judgment call. You did what a good leader is supposed to do when plans go south. Everything worked out with the narcos, and even if they don’t take the bait and call, you still have tracking and surveillance on them.

Javi remains silent, finishes unbuttoning his shirt, revealing his freckled skin underneath. He removes the wire taped to his chest, then sets it down on the desk and switches off the receiver. You open your mouth, prepared to state your defense.

In two strides, Javi closes the distance between you and takes your mouth in a crushing kiss. You throw your arms around his neck and his hands grip the backs of your bare thighs, lifting you effortlessly and setting you onto the desk.

Deepening the kiss, Javi’s tongue plunders your mouth and he lets out a strangled grunt when you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him flush against your panty-clad pussy. Groaning, you feel his cock quickly getting hard and you soon realize you were already wet before he even started kissing you.

Javi kisses a searing trail across your jaw, the hairs of his mustache tickling the tender flesh under your ear as he nips at the lobe. You gasp and rut against the front of his pants.

“You are – fucking – incredible,” Javi growls in your ear, grinding his straining cock against the damp spot on your panties for emphasis. Your breathing is shallow, and you cling to his broad back as he continues his way down your neck.

“You’re amazing,” he adds, then gently sinks his teeth into the flesh between your neck and shoulder, eliciting a small whimper from your lips.

Letting your head loll to the side, willing him to take whatever he desires, you whisper, “Javi, please…”

You can feel his mustache turn up as he smiles, his path across your clavicle interrupted.

“‘Please’, what, cariño?” His wide hands roam up the expanse of your back, then down to massage the meat of your hips and ass. You rock yourself against his cock again, but he holds your hips still and pulls back to look into your wrecked face, lifting an eyebrow in question.

“Fuck, Javi–” You rebel against the grip of his hands, trying to feel that pressure from his hard cock again, but he stops you. He mimics your tut-tut from earlier out in the gallery, and pulls his hips away from yours. You lock your ankles behind him, trying in vain to keep him in place.

Javi smacks a hand against the flesh of your ass that’s still covered by your dress, which luckily muffles the sound. Your mouth pops open in surprise, and you look at him. The intensity in his face has returned, but there’s no malice in his eyes, just hunger. Without a word exchanged, you unhook your ankles from behind his waist and let your legs spread open.

Javi lets out a satisfied moan from deep in his chest. “Mm, somebody trained you well, cariño.”

You let out a shuddering breath and Javi leans in to capture your bottom lip between his, sucking it between his teeth before letting it go with a soft pop. You nod, just barely, and wait for him to continue.

“I bet I can guess who it was,” he teases, then his tone changes. “Stand up and turn around. Palms on the desk.”

Javi pulls away and walks the two steps to the door, never looking away as he watches you follow his command. Your dress is now hitched up onto your hips, your ass presented to him.

Before he can lock the door, a tentative knock on the other side makes both of you jump. You immediately straighten up and pull your dress down, while Javi checks through the blinds in the door’s window.

“Tran,” he mouths.

You try to smooth your hair down and Javi opens the door and quickly turns away, busying himself with the wire and receiver on the desk, as though he’d just turned it off.

Clearing her throat, Tran stands in the doorway, not meeting your eye and says, “Boss, Diaz just reported in. Bateman is getting an emergency appendectomy, but he should be fine. They got him to the ER before it got too bad.”

Both you and Javi let out sighs of relief. “Thanks, Tran. We’ll debrief in the morning.”

Tran glances between you and Javi, and gives you a sly smile. “Sure thing, Boss. Have a good night.” She winks and closes the office door behind her. You’ll have to deal with that later.

“Fuck me,” you sigh and sink down in the office chair. All the adrenaline of the evening was starting to make your legs shaky. Javi sits a hip on the corner of the desk in a way that reminds you of Pike.

“That’s kind of what I was trying to do,” he tosses his head at the door. “Before we got interrupted.”

“It was very rude,” you agree, both of you sharing a smirk before going quiet.

“Listen,” Javi swipes a thumb at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know if this is a good idea–” You put a hand on his knee to stop him.

“But it’s what I want. And you obviously want it too,” you look pointedly at his crotch, where his aroused state is still quite evident, despite the interruption.

“Fuck yeah, I do,” he states emphatically. “It’s just…” He sighs and places his hand over yours. “I recognize what a huge deal this case is for you, for professional and personal reasons.”

Javi pulls you to stand and cups your face. “I couldn’t live with myself if I fucked that up for you.”

You sigh, and think for a moment.

“Javi, no offense, but that’s bullshit.”

“What?” He pulls back in surprise.

“First, you’re giving yourself way too much credit,” you chuckle to break the tension, then grow serious. “Secondly, I’m a grown ass woman who can make her own choices. If anything gets fucked up, it’s because I made a decision, so I’ll deal with the consequences.”

Javi takes a deep breath, evaluating your words. You can see that he doesn’t like the idea of what those consequences may be, nor the thought of you being the one to deal with them.

He swears under his breath in Spanish, looking to the heavens for help, then leans in and kisses you. Gently at first, then more persistently, holding your face until you’re both breathing heavily through your noses. He breaks the kiss and you both take a deep breath.

“Okay, ‘grown ass woman,’” he says, and you let out a small laugh. “I’ve got a choice for you to make.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

“Your place or mine?”

Chapter 8 - Coming Soon!

Additional Author’s Note: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and reblogs! I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

#senorabond writes #rumor has it fic #javi x reader x pike #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike x f!reader #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike

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picklebunbun · 28 days

Note

HIII HOW U DOING I would like to make a request (if ur not busy!!)

About flippy/fliqpy (htf) and reader with anger issues!

Like they just randomly go mad crazy but they calm down easily, but it’s kinda freaky how fast they go form psycho crazy to a lil silly person

Oh could you also make reader’s gender neutral?

Thank you so much for ur hard work!!

‧₊˚♪𝄞࿐₊˚⊹ Flippy/Fliqpy x gn! reader

৻ꪆ..

savior

novulent ♥︎

⇄ ◁◁ 𝚰𝚰 ▷▷ ↻

⁰⁰'²⁵ ━━●━━��──── ⁰²'⁰⁸

৻ꪆ..

❦. gender neutral! reader, no agab, kind of masculine pronouns but not really at tge same time

❦. genre: more crack than fluff and maybe a hint of angst but you have to squint to ses it

❦. cw: violence, talks about violence, violent tendencies, kind of gorish,, reader seems very bi polar, just reader getting vilely angry, and death

❦. fandom: HTF

❦. can be read as rom or plat

summary: headcanons of reader switching from wild anger to their normal happy go-lucky self in front of Flippy/Flipqy [reader is so kenji from the hit series bungou grey dawgs]

{angel's/pickle's notes 🪽🥒: sorry I've been gone so long, finally school ended and I can focus on writing requests ! Anyways I have to catch up, thank you for requesting !}

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚

"*_- hcs !

when Flippy first met you, he saw how bubbly you were, kind of air-headed, always hapoy about something. It was nice to see someone like that since most of the people he met hid behind a façade, they were either deeply terrified or would wrap around your throat like a snake, but it turns out, you were actually pleasent to be around.

first of all, you decided to hide this problem away from him, keeping it in a locked caged, making sure it didn't escape, but, just like how you bottle up everything, it all starts to bubble up and explode.

the first time Flippy saw you like that, it was Flippy at all. It was Flipqy.

needless to say, it was very surprising to see you so violently angry, it was like a different person was controling you.

you acted almost exactly like how Flipqy does, although, his was a trauma response and yours was probably for a different reason. You did just as much damage as him when you switch.

when he saw you act this way, it just encouraged him to be even more violent. In no time, blood and guts were flying everywhere, blood-curdling screams from your friens and crying could be heard from miles away.

everything kind of blanked after that.

keep in mind, Flippy doesn't know, only his alter-ego does. So when you tried to apologize from how you acted that day, he was confused, horrified, a little appalled, but he was just a whirlwind of emotions.

you guys had a huge talk that day.

it was kind of funny how you turn back to a silly goober and waddle away from the corpse you just killed.

you were so adorable too, anyone could've had their guard down around you. It's like you were constantly stuck on ':3' you're whole life,,,

one time, when you were basically destroying everything in your path, the minute you saw Flippy, you stopped what you were doing and hopped your way to him. Very weird,,, but he loves you so it's okay, in his words,, "who am I to judge anyways ?"

but yeah, he makes sure he's around you in public so no more people have to be tortured endlessly by you,, and so you can calm him down when he has another PTSD episode! So it's basically a win-win.

most of your time is spent with Flippy cause of how paranoid he can get from you being out in public alone.

Flipqy is still kind of wary around you, but since you treat Flippy right and he trusts you with all his life, he eventually learns to trust you.

you'd probably almost go to jail or a psychiatric hospital multiple times.

your [best friend or lover] will always bail you out, dw my man. 🙏

a whole protest to bail you out too,, "FREE MY HOMIE, [NAME] ‼️"

you come home in the middle of the night standing in the doorway.

"DARLING, GUESS WHO'S BACK FROM JAIL" "WHAT?!"

they can't keep ya boy locked up, YOU STAY WINNING 😼

but long story short, you and Flippy are awesome and everyone should treat you guys like royalty.

#happy tree friends x reader #fluff #happy tree friends #htfxreader #flippy x reader #flipqy x reader #platonic reader #romantic #crack fic #soundcloud #woohoo #idk how to tag this

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saintsenara · 1 year

Note

Thoughts on tomarry

thank you for the ask, anon!

tomarrymort was one of the first ships i ever read, and it remains a firm favourite of mine. certainly, it's my preferred pairing for harry [sorry to all the hinny girlies i'm friends with now], and it's up there among my preferred pairings for voldemort [along with riddledore and snapemort].

[i have a current tomarry wip, as well... just in case you were looking for something to read...]

but why do i like the pairing?

firstly, a couple of facetious - but still extremely important - points:

harry does not stop banging on about how hot tom riddle is. he simps for him shamelessly, which i respect, and he's clearly physically attracted to him, which is important in a relationship. tom is a bit more demure, but he does point out that he and harry look alike, so clearly he's been checking him out.

their mind connection is also hot, as generations of smut writers know.

thinking about how all harry's friends react to the revelation that he's banging the dark lord entertains me endlessly. ron, a stoic, can handle it; hermione, very much not a stoic, cannot. my guilty pleasure is the idea that dumbledore secretly ships it.

the pairing lends itself really well to a vast variety of themes and genres. darkfic, villain-redeeming fluff, time travel, stockholm syndrome, crack, horror, pwp? yes, all yes.

and then the main, and much more serious one:

harry is, canonically, the only person to believe in the possibility of voldemort's redemption.

the complexity of grief, anger, and atonement is something i like to explore in my reading and writing, and voldemort being someone whose obvious damage has led him down very dark paths is my preferred way of seeing him. i love an outrageous villain voldemort as much as the next girl, but i definitely would rather write him as slightly more fragmented and, therefore, slightly more capable of doing something with his life beside killing and being immortal.

harry gives him that space, and the pairing has so much potential for being a genuinely beautiful meditation on the power of forgiveness and love.

i'll try most things once, but i have developed some tomarrymort dislikes:

the forgiveness point is the reason that i don't like the subgenre of tomarrymort in which voldemort has all the power. the prophecy said the dark lord shall mark him as his equal, but that seems to be absent from lots of fics.

the canonical harry does not respect the canonical voldemort as he behaves in the series - and he certainly does not and would not submit to him, even in the face of torture [he refuses to bow to him in the graveyard when he's fourteen, he's not letting him run rings around him as an adult].

similarly, while harry is prepared to be morally flexible in pursuit of the things he wants, i don't think he would ever accept a relationship with voldemort in which voldemort actively refuses to change even a little. this doesn't mean writing voldemort as suddenly becoming a meek little lamb, but it does mean harry fighting him on his worst instincts and, very probably, winning. that isn't to say that i don't like dark stories with the pairing, but i much prefer those fics if harry stays defiant and aggro until the very end in them.

on a similar point, i'm not fond of harry when he's written to be fragile, delicate, or stereotypically feminine [he's a jock who wants to become a cop!].

i'm a member of ham nation, but i'll happily read fics in which harry bottoms, but i would like it if authors could move on from equating that with a hyper-submissive personality, completely subsumed and controlled by voldemort. maybe they do have dom/sub vibes in the bedroom - i love that for them! - but that's not the same as top/bottom and it doesn't mean it spills out into everyday life.

i very rarely read fem!harry stories for a similar reason.

and then, in general, i don't read non-magical aus, and i prefer fics without dumbledore bashing, which can be hard to find.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #tomarry #harrymort

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p0ison-inmyteeth · 3 days

Text

Test Test Kiss Kiss

Little Shadowpeach morning kiss for practice

"You know, watching the sunrise with you is something I thought I would never live to see again. I thought you hated me" the great sage murmured, leaning against a tree while his companion, Macaque was lazing on a bench right next to him.

"I did" he said without hesitation, a sigh escaping his lips as he turned his head ever so slightly to look up at the other. "But, letting go of something positive is harder than keeping something negative." A hint of fondness was found in his tone, as he once again felt his head ache in memory of what had been lost, but, not everything has to stay lost, not forever.

"Pft, I killed you, what’s so positive about that? I mean, how could you forgive me?"

"I can forgive, because you’ve done nothing but show me the Wukong I knew, is still present today, even if the battles over the years had taken their toll on you, you’re still… you." The six eared simian kept his voice low and calm, no use in keeping grudges where they’re not supposed to be kept. "I don’t think the you that killed me that day is the you I hear and have heard today, and in the past."

"You're delusional, then" Sun Wukong was quick to cut him off, his tail nervously swishing against the floor. "You're not supposed to forgive me, it was I who had brought you false hopes, and endlessly painful torture" Macaque stared, unbothered by wukong's words, he had heard them before they were spoken, he had heard everything before, in the past, and in the future.

And yet, he still saw no reason to hate the King, maybe he was delusional. Maybe he was completely out of his mind. He didn’t know, and it didn’t bother him, at least for now.

"You're also the one who brought me redemption, a home, safety, you’re the one who shines light on me, I simply reflect it." The shadow sat up on his bench, gesturing for the great sage to sit down. "While you have done horrible things, you show me time and time again that they’re mistakes you regret, isn’t that a sign for me to trust that you'll learn from the same mistakes?"

… Wukong sat down next to him, huffing as he looked into the still intact eye of the six eared. "I haven’t changed a bit, I tell you time and time again, *you've* told me time and time again. Why do you suddenly believe everything I've done and came to regret is something I learned from?"

Macaque shrugged, averting his gaze towards the sun. "You can open someone's eyes and make them look at you and think, you know" He then leaned back and looked up at his sun, raising an eyebrow. "Guess your so called "charms" are more than just your stupid jokes."

Wukong exclaimed offendedly at his companion's comment, while he just smiled and chuckled. It was a good morning, for the both of them. It felt normal, peaceful.

Wukong huffed as he leaned against the back of the bench , resting his left arm on the bench's back as he faced macaque, an expression of confusion and gratitude on his face. "Thanks for uh, coming out here with me" he said, his voice slightly cracking at the end of his sentence. He cleared his throat and put his head down on his resting arm. "Means a lot to me"

Macaque huffed in laughter as he turned to look at wukong, mirroring his position as he moved ever so slightly closer. "You're lucky I was awake this early, I would’ve kicked you out if you woke me up"

"Yeah?" The king said, a quiet chuckle leaving his lips as his gaze turned from his moon's eyes lower, first to his cheeks, then his nose, and finally, the lips. The source of the sweetest words being uttered.

"What're you doing, do I have something on my face?" The shadow asked, his voice low and soft.

Wukong hummed 'yes' nodding slowly as he leaned closer, his right hand rising up, the King's arm goes around the warriors neck, gently pulling him in.

"Just that," wukong started, pausing to find his words while his right hand was caressing Macaque's furr, gently and tenderly. "… You got something on your lips, I think." He finally murmured.

"Do I?" Macaque huffed in laughter. "Hmm, could you get it for me then?" He asked, the shadow's left hand traveling up to cup the king's cheek.

"I uh… sure, sure, I can… do that" was all the king could utter before he gently pressed his lips against his warrior's. Soft, gentle touches were shared, the sound of birds waking and the sea, the wind, they all fell silent as all they could hear was their heartstrings ringing, their breaths ever so slightly hitching as they departed from their short peck, looking eachother in the eye.

"…" Wukong looked down at the other’s lips once again. "I… I think I missed a spot.."

Macaque chuckled "I hope you miss again, then"

A/N↴

I LOOOVVVEEEE WRITING KISS SCENES. And a friend said to give them a Shadowpeach kissing scene so that’s what I did. I’m still an Amateur so for all those geniuses out there who want me to get good, tell me what I did "wrong” and give me some tips on how to write better kissing scenes!

I mostly plan on posting Lego Monkie kid stuff, but I'm open for more fandoms REQUESTS ARE WELCOME!!!<3

#lego monkie kid #lmk macaque #lmk sun wukong #lmk fanfiction #oneshot #fanfic #testing #couple kissing #shadowpeach #does anyone even use tumblr to read fanfics anymore?

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yandere-genji · 1 year

Text

🖤 tug of war 🖤

TW: YANDERE, NONCON

pairings: Hanzo Shimada/Reader, Genji Shimada/Reader

contains: NSFW, rope play, degrading, a lot of bodily fluids, incest

Genji wanted to tear his heart out of his chest, wanted to rip away at his own flesh to numb the hideous feeling inside of him. The knowledge that you were alone, sharing a bed with his own brother. His brother. His own family, who had betrayed him and took from him what was most precious to him. You. And now while Genji was away, the pain was unbearable. Hanzo knew you were his, too, but decided to take you for himself. Selfish, as he had always been. The elder brother who fancied himself entitled to everything his younger sibling had. This feeling wasn’t new, but was so raw and untamed when it came to you.

At first, he didn’t mind sharing you. It excited him. You were his fixation for so long and denied him endlessly. Once he had you, he could toy with you and punish you as he pleased. He paraded you naked around his chambers and presented you to Hanzo like a puppy with a shiny new toy. It satisfied him to force upon you the demanding role of pleasing him and his brother, it was the last thing you wanted to do and that made him giddy with pleasure. The look on your face when you realized you were helpless to whatever Genji had planned for you, it drove him wild. Made him thirst to torture you, degrade you, use you.

But Hanzo was sure to sour his fun, always the killjoy. He was disciplined, dignified, everything Genji was not. And he had the fucking gall to treat you gently. Care for you after Genji played with you until you were broken. It fucked everything up. And he wouldn’t back off. Genji warned him time and again that you were his to do with as he pleased. Hanzo simply scoffed at him, rubbing in his face the fact that you preferred him and would have ending your own life if it weren’t for his kindness. There was no way Genji could confirm if what he was saying was true, nor did it matter. All that he knew was that Hanzo was becoming an intruder, and he had to be dealt with.

You rest in Hanzo’s arms as he was mending a few wounds on your body that Genji had inflicted on you the night before. His muscular body was hard and firm, but his warmth was all the comfort you needed. He became your only source of safety, your saving grace in the living hell you were held captive in. The surface of your skin stung when he applied alcohol to clean it and you hissed in pain. Hanzo softly kissed your temple, rubbed his thumb over your waist and assured you that it would be over soon. He bandaged your wounds, stroking your hair to comfort you afterwards. You thanked him meekly, resting your head into the crook of his neck.

Genji arrived, wild as a sandstorm and equally as furious at the sight of you in his brother’s embrace. He looked venomous, bloodthirsty and immediately you began to cry. Your body shook in fear, flinching in anticipation of whatever pain he was going to bring you next. But Hanzo gripped you tightly and held your chest against his.

“Calm yourself,” he demanded, matching Genji’s sickening glare, “There is no need for you to encroach upon my room so disorderly.”

“I should kill you for this!” Genji’s teeth clenched tightly as he spoke, almost hissing , “What right do you have touching things that aren’t yours?”

“I will not entertain this conversation,” this scene had been played out tirelessly between the two brothers who seemed never satisfied to share you, “Leave us be. We will speak later.”

“You forget yourself, brother,” Genji spoke through bated breath, stepping closer toward the bed, “Am I not the one who brought to you my precious pet?”

“Yes,” Hanzo spoke, “For that I am grateful. Still-“

Before Hanzo could finish, Genji roared in reply, “Then it is a privilege for you to be involved in this arrangement at all! Do not deny me, brother, this will not end well.”

“Very well,” Hanzo loosened his hold on you, much to your distress. Though you tried to reattach yourself onto him, he captured your arms in his hand and set them to your side as he sauntered away, toward his brother.

“Father will be pleased to see you,” Genji spoke calmly with a grin, “He must be so concerned to see you away from the manor for so long.”

“Yes,” Hanzo matched Genji’s smirk with his own, concealing his tensed jaw, “I am certain of that. It is already a shame for him to have one frivolous son, lest he raise another.”

Genji’s arm twitched and a flash of green threatened to coalesced as he choked the impulse to slap his brother across the face, as he so deserved, “I am a Shimada just as you are, you would be wise to remember that.”

“Shall I impart some wisdom on you, brother?” Hanzo almost whispered as he closed the gap between Genji, face only inches apart, “If you keep breaking your precious toys, there will come a time when there are no longer any pieces left.”

“I am not a monster,” Genji scoffed.

“I will see to it that you are not,” he broke from Genji’s stare and turned back to your shaking form on the bed.

Hanzo left you, alone. With Genji. You no longer had any tears left, face already stained with dried tears and weak sniffling filling the silence of the room. Genji walked towards you, but looked away as if contemplating something. He propped himself on the bed, giving you no acknowledgment as he sat in his thoughts. After a moment of agonizing silence, you heard him chuckling to himself, low and sadistic. Whatever he was laughing about, something in your gut was telling you that you were about to be a victim of his sinister entertainment.

He gripped both your wrists and pinned them above your head. Though you wanted to push him away with a kick to the chest, you knew it was no use. At this point, you settled to just let him have his way with you and get it over with as quickly as possible. You could feel his lips hovering over yours, but kept your eyes shut to try imagining you were somewhere else.

Genji spoke in a hushed voice, fingers tightening around your wrists, “Tell me how much you missed me.”

There was a script you followed in your head from the many times you had to fawn over your captor, “I’ve missed you so much, master.”

He squeezed tighter and you couldn’t help the breath escaping your lips from the pressure, “Yes, you must have missed me so much you had to resort to fucking my brother,” you could feel bruises forming on the supple skin he was gripping, “what a desperate slut you are.”

Pleas poured from you lips as Genji twisted you onto your stomach. He leaned all of his weight onto your wrists to pin them against your back with one arm as his free hand grabbed a fist of your hair. Your scalp was stinging and tears burned down the side of your face.

“Let’s see if he still wants you once I’m done with you,” he let go of your hair, granting you momentary relief so he could free his cock. You felt his half-hard cock slap against your thigh before he positioned it against your hole. Hanzo had already made love to you moments before Genji had arrived. A hiss escaped through his teeth, displeased at what he saw, “just as I thought, you even let him cum in you. Sluts like you need to be taught a lesson.”

Your body resisted him, but Genji had never listened to what you wanted. You yelped at the forced entry, the sudden fullness had you biting the pillow beneath you for purchase and squeezing your eyes shut tightly. Slowly your body and Genji’s precum lubricated his cock enough for him to pump in and out of you. The hold he kept you in with the discomfort of Genji’s dick fucking into you was enough to let your body go limp. It helped a bit, but nothing could soothe that humiliating feeling of being used as a pawn in the brothers’s constant fight for dominance.

“Both of you need to be taught a lesson,” he punctuated his thought with a thrust deep into your core, “You’re mine. I was the one that fucking found you, I was the one that fucking brought you here and he has the balls to take you from me.”

As he grew angrier, his pace became harsher. He was brutally fucking into you like a horny dog latching onto a pillow. You couldn’t tell if he was desperately searching for release or fucking his frustrations into you, probably a mixture of both. The clap of his balls against your thighs rang in the room and the both of you were drenched in sweat, Genji occasionally slipping gracelessly off of your body.

When his hips began to stutter and his moans turned to hoarse grunts, he released you from his hold and turned you on your back. Before you could even register that you’d been freed, Genji’s cum painted your body. His arms went limp and he lifted his head as he rapidly panted, beginning to laugh with his head tossed back. He looking down at you and the white ribbons of cum splattered on your naked, sweat-drenched body.

“Good…” he huffed, still trying to regain his breath, “Yes, this is perfect.”

He eagerly lifted himself off the bed, smile still wide on his face, “Stay there, slut. I’m not finished with you, yet.”

A wave of relief washed over you once he left, but it was obvious that Genji had something else in store for you. Still, you were happy to clean off whatever excess fluids were on your body. Using a handful of tissues, you wiped yourself as clean as you possibly could without the use of soap and water. It made you feel human, not like the sex toy you had been demeaned to by the two boys.

The sound of soft footsteps and something dragging across the floor approached the door to your chamber. Genji was back and he had brought something with him. As he opened the door, you saw that he was carrying with him a variety of ropes, some already tied in knots and others completely loose. He stared at your newly cleaned torso as he closed the door.

“What the fuck?” his eyebrows knitted together in frustration and he rushed at you, pulling a fistful of your hair, “You think that wiping my cum off of you will make you any more pure, little slut? You think that makes you anything but a dirty fucktoy for me?”

You frantically shook your head as much as you could to avoid the pain in your scalp, “No, master. I’m so sorry. Please punish me.”

He threw you down onto the floor, “Don’t worry, I have a proper punishment for you and my ass of a brother. Sit still.”

Genji grabbed a bundle of rope and moved your body so you were sat comfortably with your hands behind your back. He made quick work in tying your wrist in place. Then, he tied ropes around your thighs to accentuate the curve of your ass. The grip was tight and you could feel the rope burning you when you moved just a bit too much. Finally, he tied rope around your torso and neck, fitted to highlight your best features. Your head and back had been arched by your binds. You knew when he was finished once he pulled back and circled slowly around your body, admiring the work he had done.

“Excellent…” he palmed himself through the loose fabric of his pants, “You’re lucky, I think this is my most generous punishment for you. All you have to do is sit there for me, understand, pet?”

You hummed in response, not wanting to choke yourself under the confines of the ropes. Genji didn’t care what you had to say about the matter, he had already moved on to stroking his bare cock. Tying you up seemed to have quickly excited him, and though he had already cum just moments ago, you could see his hips shaking eagerly. Soon, the familiar streaks of warmth covered your body. You could do nothing but sit and pose involuntarily for his pleasure. Still, he wasn’t done. Genji kept stroking himself, stepping forward to circle his dick around your lips, peaking the tip into your mouth. You sucked on it, a reflex you learned from all your time with him.

He pulled back just enough to cum again, over your lips, dripping over the curves of your cheeks, “Don’t you even think of swallow that. I know that’s what cum loving sluts like you do, but this isn’t for you to swallow.”

He continued like this for what felt like an hour, until he was completely drained. It felt like every inch of your body had been claimed by him, covered in his cum and tied together like a present. Genji must have been satisfied as he wiped his dick clean and dressed himself.

“Look at you, my pet,” he chuckled, patting you on the head, “What an image you will make for my brother.”

A tear rolled down your cheek at the thought of anyone seeing you like this. You whimpered, wanting to drop your head into your hands and bawl until you could fall asleep, take yourself out of this nightmare. But all you could do is sit perched like you were begging to be fucked while your tears mixed with the cum on your skin. Without another word, Genji left you, grabbing his dick and blowing you a kiss before leaving you alone in your confines to be found by his brother.

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badgirl411 · 2 years

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The Enemy PART 2: (Aemond Targaryen x Reader FANFIC) 18+ WARNING

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Summary: After receiving the news of their required presence at the castle (Y/N) is confronted by her former lover and enemy Aemond and tension ensues.

Warnings: violence, swearing, sexual content, incestuous relationship between uncle and niece, use of pet names, suggested smut, dubious consent.

Authors Note: Thank you so much everyone for the support I have received with this story just like all of you I love our favourite war criminal. This is unedited and contains scenes some readers may find disturbing so quick trigger warning. As always enjoy friends more to come soon! Have a great day.

PREVIOUSLY ON THE ENEMY:

Your eyes trace the scar across his eye, mind betraying you by thinking of his dangerous beauty.

His lips a hair’s breadth from yours breathing you in. He is furious and bloodthirsty, hurt and confused, horny and love drunk all in the same heartbeat. He can’t decide if he wants you dead or if he wants to fuck you. And you are much the same too dizzy with emotion to process that he is here right in front of you.

“I am going to make you regret leaving me, my love” he snarls biting your bottom lip.

The bite on your bottom lip draws blood, the single crimson droplet staining your tender flesh. The taste of copper now invading both your senses as his tongue gets rid of the evidence dripping its way from the wound.

A hungry muted “Hmm” rumbles from deep within his chest, still with the blade kissing your bare throat he is cemented in place breathing you in. He has long since dreamt of this moment since you both were parted. It is this that keep him awake at night, tossing and turning endlessly in the confines of his chambers. Dreams... no... nightmares of you, your hair hanging loosely over your shoulder. The pained look in your eyes any time either one of you encountered one another, the sound of your laugh becoming an endless plaguing nightmare that echoes in his mind whenever his body and mind need sleep. Then it’s your body that tortures him: the soft flesh of your waist, the way the corset of your dress accentuates your breasts, your bared neck that he swears he could lose himself in or the way your breath catches on your lips when you are surprised.

He has not had a single night when his nightmares have not plagued his mind, he wakes in the morrow exhausted. Sweating, panting from a plethora of emotions. He is angry at you for so easily deserting him, mournful at the life you both should have shared, spent from the sleepless nights and long arduous hours training and he would be lying if he said he was not exceedingly aroused at the memories of you.

Body pinned against the wall, the weight of him baring down on top of you. The cool nip of the blade is keeping you grounded in reality otherwise you would be as lost as Aemond right now. You cannot help the burning that is roaring in the pit of your stomach right now at the weight of your former lover and enemy on top of you, his breath stealing your own as the fire in your stomach is spreading to between your thighs. The feeling of his mouth on yours intoxicating, your mind is swimming, you must focus you have to focus. He has chosen his side in this war and he has to live with the consequences, he has to live without you. Your eyes drift over his leather eye patch and his remaining eye, over his strong nose and sharp jaw and finally settle at his lips.

A small, huffed laugh exits you, sounding more like you exhaling through your nose.

“What’s wrong my darling did my brother take your balls as well as your eye?” venom laces your words egging him on. You want him to do something anything if not only to prove your point, that you are better. You suck in your bottom lip wincing at the slight sting it emits from its earlier assault.

He grabs your chin forcing your face upwards, you are held firmly in place a ‘tst’ leaving him as his nostrils flare rage boiling below the surface.

“Come on Aemond do it, don’t be a coward. I know you want to, let the blade do the work.” now you are laughing, but nothing is funny. You are not sure why you are laughing, but it’s not from amusement. Aemond looks into those eyes of yours he adores so much and sees only despair. Are you really in this much pain he thinks to himself.

“When I said I was going to make you regret leaving me (Y/N) I did not intend to kill you.” His smile is wicked his free hand is splayed across your stomach, pressure applied as he has slotted himself between your legs and now has you pinned securely against the cold stone of the castle wall. “For you little one I have a far worse fate I am afraid.”

All the air has left your lungs, every shred of confidence you possessed is out the window and gone with the wind. Confusion has etched itself across your features trying to decipher what he meant. What is a fate worse than death?

“Oh little one, you are so amusing. Let me enlighten you...” If you weren’t so confused, you would be terrified. He is like a predator, and you are the prey as he moves the hair from your shoulder gaining access to your throat. His lips are on the junction of your neck where it meets your shoulder leaving hot open-mouthed kisses up the column. A moan falls from your lips and your hands grab on to the leather of his sleeve, a jolt of arousal goes straight to his cock at the noise that just fell from your lips. If he wasn’t going to fuck you before he certainly had made his mind up now.

“Such a pretty sound baby! I’m not going to kill you...oh no pretty girl.” His lips have found the shell of your ear; he places a soft peck there.

“I am going to fucking ruin you.” Aemond growls into your ear as the hand that was firmly on your stomach is now between your legs.

If you wish to be added to my taglist please get in touch with me! For my lovelies who have already reached out here you go! Enjoy friends.

@xcharlottemikaelsonx @glors3 @sacredburial @yearninginpages @schniiipsel @lomllino

#aemond one eye #prince aemond #prince aegon targaryen #Aemond the Kinslayer #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond imagine #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #my fanfiction

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magpie-to-the-morning · 2 years

Text

Overstimulation Kink

RATING: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Ezra Prospect x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: Oops all filth, dirty talk, edging, begging, overstimulation, oral sex (female receiving)

Author’s Note: Thank you to @chaoticgeminate for sending in a Kinktober request for Ezra and overstimulation. This is my first time writing him so I hope I did our favorite space prospector some justice.

@keeper0fthestars My darlin’, thank you for helping me brainstorm pet names for this silver-tongued menace. I love you to the stars and back.

@acrossthesestars , my endlessly patient and supportive beta, thank you for holding my hand through this one. The knife is for you.

My Masterlist | Kinktober Masterlist

Sunlight streams down in glinting shafts through the quiet cathedral woods, bathing the two of you in languid, golden warmth. Ezra lays sprawled between your thighs, basking in the sun’s rays like a cat, seemingly content to nuzzle at you and press gentle kisses to your inner thighs until night falls. To anyone else, he would appear the very picture of selfless devotion.

Only you know him for the absolute bastard that he is.

He’s been at it for hours. Working you up to your peak only to pull back, leaving you whimpering on the very edge of bliss. And all the while, running that damn mouth of his to ensure your overheated mind and body are kept in delicious, torturous suspense.

Normally you appreciate his patience. It’s something people tend to underestimate about him. Hell, even you forget, sometimes, what a good listener he is; how still he can go, how patient. It’s a reminder that all those flowery words, all that bluster polished to a gunmetal sheen - for so long, they were his only form of company.

But now he’s wielding that silver tongue like a knife.

He’s kept up a relentless running monologue whenever his face wasn’t buried in your cunt, his honeyed words sliding over you until pleasure dripped down your spine to pool like liquid gold between your eager thighs. You were no slouch when it came to being vocal and Ezra chuckled at the stream of senseless filth pouring from your lips. “Now what a wicked thing you are. I consider myself truly blessed to have encountered a fellow talker in you, my gem.”

“Are you going to talk me to death out here? I don’t know how much more I can take.” You pleaded for mercy but somehow that wasn’t enough to convince him to end your suspense and finally, finally give you the release you've been craving.

“My darlin,’ I do humbly apologize for my part in your current… distress. But I find myself unable to release you just yet.”

“Ezra, please,” you beg, rocking your hips desperately against his chin.

“What is it that you require, my beloved?” His voice is thick, sweet innocence dripping like poisoned sugar from his tongue.

With a whimper, you grind against Ezra’s wicked mouth, whining high-pitched and reedy when he withdraws. “You know damn well what I need, Ez.”

“Well that is hardly fair. How can I be expected to suss out your desires without the benefit of your words?”

“Really? This isn’t enough of a hint?” Reaching between you, you cup his jawline and run a thumb through the wetness there, the bottom half of Ezra’s face slick with your juices.

He smirks and tilts his mouth just enough to nip at the fleshy mound at the base of your palm, the sharp sting of his teeth making you whine before he soothes you with a lazy swipe of his tongue.

“You know what I want to hear,” he prompts, all smug satisfaction and endless patience. “You’re so pretty when you beg.”

You narrow your eyes and consider your options. Ezra is just as pent up as you are after days spent on a crowded transport ship, the two of you barely able to steal enough privacy for kisses, let alone sex. He’s bluffing. He has to be.

But then… You have days of shore leave stretching out ahead of you before your next shared job. What if he is as relaxed as he looks? Would he really be content to laze in the sun and deny both of you the release you need?

Probably, you admit with a silent, inner groan. Ezra is deceptively patient, with a will as strong as steel beneath all that rakish charm. You’d be a fool to underestimate the depth of his resolve - and the mischievous glint in his eyes tells you he knows it, too.

Still, you’re not about to give in completely.

Fluttering your eyelashes at him, you give an exaggerated pout. “Please, oh please won’t you make me come? I need you so bad, baby - unless you want me to head back to the ship and find someone else to take care of me?”

Any resemblance to an indolent house cat vanishes as Ezra pins you with his gaze. Your heart kicks in your chest as you realize your mistake.

“Ez,” you stammer, sitting up on your elbows. “You know I would never - “

Your voice falters in the face of his thunderous scowl, the possessive, predatory gleam darkening his tawny eyes to deepest umber, bleeding almost to black.

“No,” he purrs, the deceptive softness in his voice making you shiver. “Because none of them can make you feel like this.”

With the unhurried grace of a jungle cat he lowers his head and licks a broad, slow stripe through your very center, rumbling in satisfaction when he feels you shudder. His past teasing forgotten, Ezra devours you like a man starved. His tongue flicks and curls and drags through your folds, tender kisses replaced by the urgent push and pull of his mouth. By the time he plunges two thick fingers into your aching center, you’re already bucking against his mouth, your first orgasm barreling through you.

The force of it is overwhelming. With a mewl, you jerk your hips, suddenly desperate to get his mouth off your throbbing, overly sensitive clit.

“Ezra,” you pant, head lolling as your vision clears. “That's too much. I need - “

“No.” Ezra’s denial is muffled against your cunt but his intent is plain. You’ve pushed him too far and now, now you’ll pay the price.

“You can tap out, gem,” Ezra rasps after your second climax shakes you down to your bones, the pad of his thumb working rough, ruthless circles against your swollen clit. “But unless you do, I am going to make you come so many times you forget your own name.”

Even through the haze of your tortured bliss, you hear the challenge in it, and you’ve never been one to back down from a fight.

“Do your worst,” you spit back at him in open, if slightly shaky, defiance. You know he’ll back off if you give him your safeword or, barring the power of speech, the wordless gesture the two of you agreed on ages ago, but where would the fun be in that?

“That’s my girl,” Ezra smirks before diving back to the task at hand.

Every time you think you’ve taken more than you can bear, Ezra insists on pushing you harder, driving you further. Each time you try to close your legs or squirm away from his greedy, relentless mouth he pushes your thighs wider and forces his tongue deeper until all you can do is cling to him for dear life while he wrenches blinding pleasure from you.

“Ezra, I can’t,” you whine after minutes, hours of this merciless treatment. This time you swear you mean it, though you don’t tap out, not yet. He’s pushed you far past the brink of what you thought you could endure but still he demands more. Even half crazed and over stimulated as you are, part of you still wonders what will happen when Ezra fully breaks you. Will there be nothing left but rubble, or do his miner’s instincts have him chasing some glittering seam only his clever, patient fingers can lay bare?

He doesn’t even lift his head this time, just holds up one finger in a silent command you have no choice but to obey.

One more, sweetheart, you can practically hear even as you whimper beneath his onslaught. Just give me one more.

And oh, you do. Your spine bows and suns burst behind your eyes as you come undone. The sweet pressure building inside you breaks like a dam bursting and you soak Ezra’s face, your own crumpling as your body surrenders completely to his. He drinks you down with a groan, his fingers working you down to the last shudder before finally pulling back. He presses a loving kiss to your thigh before pillowing his cheek on it, sighing into your caress as your stroke the sweat dampened ends of his hair with trembling fingers.

“There’s my gem,” he murmurs, all pride and easy affection now that he’s cracked you open like a geode to reveal the glorious, secret heart of you.

Little does he know that you’re about to return the favor.

At least, once you catch your breath.

#Emma’s Kinktober 2022 #Ezra Prospect x reader #Ezra Prospect x F!Reader #Ezra Prospect x Fem!Reader #Fic #My Fic #Kinktober

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sh0esuke · 12 days

Text

" Turn Back " — ENGLISH VERSION.

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : Solas

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : ❝ Lavellan sometimes came awake from dreams in which her lover watched her sadly from across an endless distance. If they were more than simple dreams she could not say, for every time she reached for him, he vanished into nothing. Still she searched, and dreamed, and waited, for a way to change the Dread Wolf's heart. ❞

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : none.

ENG : PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORKS. If you want to translate it, ask me first then we can talk about it. If you want to find me on Wattpad, my account is in my bio, this is the ONLY ONE i have.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 𝟑,𝟕𝟎𝟎.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are heavily appreciated. All types of support are ! Thank you !! <3

A/N : English isn't my first language so I apologise if you find any incoherence/mistake in this work. I still hope you can enjoy it ! I absolutely adore Solas so of course I had to write something about him. It's been a pleasure !!

Dorian’s words come back into my mind as the softness of my silk sheets caress my skin. Its coldness makes me shiver, a sigh escapes my lips. Like a dagger slicing through my belly and lacerating my guts, they mutilate me, break me, and hurt my heart. I hear his voice; it resonates deeply within me. Every syllable is articulated with caution. He’s aware that it doesn’t matter how he will approach this subject; it will bring me sorrow, if nothing more.

« My dear friend, you seem quite exhausted lately. Have you been sleeping well ? »

I sob.

As I open my eyes, drifting off into a deep sleep, I know I don’t need to panic. I know where I am.

Which only makes my suffering worse.

Only a pinch of hope manages to get into the mix. Bitterly salty, it makes me hiccup. I don’t know what to do. I went through worse in battle, lost worse for much less; there is, nonetheless, wounds that never heal. Others that keep hurting you years after they’ve healed. I’m not laying on my bed anymore, and the temperature has dropped. My chest feels sour, my breath is short. By the time I've reviewed this place of torture, I'm spinning around, and tears are blurring my vision. It hurts. I’d give anything to be somewhere else, on the battlefield, fighting enemies from the past. I try to convince myself.

Anywhere but here.

This place is familiar.

Properly speaking, I never set a foot in this forest. I have no idea where to find it. Ferelden ? Orlais ? Storm Coast ? Or even maybe Crestwood ? I must admit I searched its location endlessly, looking for a way to end this madness, it often drove me to the point of insanity. Perhaps this place holds a purpose, a meaning, an escape from these woods which have been torturing me for so long in my dreams. I was, however, never able to find it.

I needed time to understand. I am aware of what lies ahead: I am doomed. Forced to come back in this place, fall into the same trap, again and again until I go back to hell. A word where I do not belong anymore.

Not without him.

The grass I stand on is wild, wet. Thin and beautiful. It soaks my pajama. Drops of water manage to find their way through the fabric and touch my skin. I shiver. I am glad to be wearing shoes at the moment. Unfortunately for me, I am unable to escape this greenery. It is all around me, in the form of bushes, a dense forest whose exit seems distant, if not non-existent, mixed with the humidity in the air. Even the smell finds its way into my lungs. I breathe it in. Its perfume is light, quite pleasant. The coldness in the air, a return to nature, the wilderness that is surrounding me, left alone by the hand of mankind. I could almost enjoy it.

The trees are numerous. They are not tall, nor thicks, this forest isn’t unusual. It appears to be the type of forest one would see everywhere around the world, especially close to civilization. Nevertheless, I don’t see it ending. My intuition can’t help me, I can’t make a choice : run away to the front or the back. It’s as if my mind had been softened, my spirit calmed. I do not feel the urge to flee, I think of it, but it is rather an idea, which goes away quite fast because it seems ridiculous. I can’t see it as an option, more like an absurdity. An insult. I know where I belong, and it is here.

I know there is no escape.

Yet I am still in pain, I suffer.

The belongings of my heart are in pieces. My only presence here manages to worsen its condition, I can’t do nothing but hold onto my chest, whimper and wish to call for help.

All the trees look the same, the sky is navy blue, illuminated by the lunar rays of divine silver, the forest holds a rendering mysterious. It scares me. Darkness has taken over this place. I do not know what lies behind. I am left in the dark in an empty circle which is only made of grass. I am on my own.

And I know what is waiting for me.

My hands clutch my shirt, I breathe heavily, look around me frantically. My vision becomes blurry. Everything is moving, becomes fuzzy. A hole is being dug in my stomach. A few buttons pop, they fall at my feet only to disappear in the grass.

I am at loss for words.

This dream hunts me, like a merciless beast. It takes over me every night, brings me to this cursed place and eats the remains of my soul. It feasts upon my corpse, what is left of me. The more I come here, the more I become broken. I am a shadow of my former self. Nothing but flesh and decay.

Yet I wouldn't want to leave for anything in the world. Despite my fear and wanting to leave for a safer place in the heat of battle, I do not wish to run away. I know it. I am confused. My heart screams something while my soul screams the opposite, and amidst these cruel exchanges, the truth has lurked there and is whispering in the hollow of my ear what I really want. It knows me. A glimmer of hope, that's what she is, she knows everything about me, aware that through my pain and resentment, I agree to stay here.

I wouldn't run away from him for the world.

Not him, not my Solas.

As I stop looking around, lower my hands to my sides, the inspiration that swells in my chest clears my foggy mind. It offers me a couple of seconds, allowing me to calm myself. My chest is heavy, and my eyes are watery. Tears threaten to roll down my cheeks at any moment now. Despite it all, I feel a bit stronger. I know what is waiting for me.

I turn around, knowing he’s here.

The Dread Wolf.

Leaning against the trunk of a tree, he gazes at me with folded arms. He is right there. His gaze is piercing, splitting my skull into two heavy pieces. It breaks my heart.

This cruel God who introduced me to the purest, most devastating feeling in this world. This elf with whom I've shared so much. This man that I love. He's right there.

He's the reason I am here.

The moment our eyes met; I froze. His image is enough to take the air out of my lungs, like a violent palm strike, leaving me breathless.

Not even my hands are moving. It is hard to tell if I am even blinking.

Previously, he had told me of his desire to end our love affair. He had told me of his devastating plan and persuaded me that I no longer had my place by his side ⸺and this, despite my pleas to accompany him, that our history was only the result of his pure selfishness. According to him, he had finally found the strength to put an end to it. He destroyed me, reduced what little hope I had left at the time to nothing, then cured me of my mark, and finally: left me. He abandoned me. After all those kisses we had exchanged, full of unspoken promises about the future, those nights we had shared, loving each other unconditionally, exploring each other, offering each other pleasure and joy.

It is hard to believe.

He is right there, few meters between us showing the ditch separating us.

I hate it.

Solas doesn’t say a word. He is wearing the same clothing as the day I found him a few months ago, giving him this Godly look. He appears more alike to the aristocrats from Orlais than anything else, which, inevitably, pains me. I dare to wonder if I ever knew him. I wonder if he is still the man I fell in love with.

He seems healthy.

His figure is slender, and he's put on muscle. He offers me a wonderful view from where I stand. I admire him from afar and, unable to help myself, compare him to the many murals I have seen of him, of Fen’Harel. All those paintings showing him in a position of power, guiding or punishing us, mortals. This time, the comparison doesn't seem preposterous; I can almost believe it.

If only I did...

His cheeks are as I remember them; hollowed, Solas looks more imposing. He looks straight from a fairy tale ⸺fearless knight, ironic, knowing that I’ve only heard of him from these stories. Far-fetched tales, and confusing to say the least, telling his demonic cruelty. However, having him in front of me, it makes me melt. He is back on his feet, as beautiful as ever. I can’t feel my body, my whole being is focused on him. I observe him to ink his image into my mind. With this, I make him mine. Until the next time we meet, I will keep this image, as soon as I’ll think of him I'll remember it. It will keep me sane. Then, it will break me.

The mere thought of him already tears me apart.

His eyes are veiled in sorrow.

Solas tries to appear nonchalant, yet i see the tears in his eyes. A curtain of bitterness keeps me from understanding what he truly wants. Although, even when we were still together, I'd never really been able to decipher him.

He was, is and will remain an enigma.

It is the same everytime he brings me here. Everytime I dream of him. He keeps this same divine appearance, the same expression shredded by pain and suffering.

I know I can’t get closer, at the moment, I am aware of this and accept my fate. My only concern is him.

Solas looks at me as if i was nothing but a regret.

He knows he can’t get closer.

So many times, has he already succumbed, I am nothing if his greatest sin. It makes me wonder what he regrets so much.

Does he regret falling for me, giving in ? Or does he regret leaving and not taking me with him ? I know the answer. His silence is however not quite comforting. Between the two of us, he has to suffer the most. I can’t imagine the dilemmas he’s staring at, right now. Especially if this led him into my dreams.

Does he seek comfort from me ?

I dream so much of bringing some to him... Even just for a few minutes.

Thats is all I ask.

Taking his face in my hands, kissing him like all those previous times he'd given himself over to temptation, shattering every last one of his doubts. To feel the softness of his skin against mine, to softly kiss his lips, then move up his cheek to his temple, finally his forehead. Embracing him, kissing him and cherishing him until the world is reduced to nothing but a pile of ashes.

He doesn’t know how much I love him.

Or maybe he does, maybe he’s afraid the unconditional love I feel for him will bring nothing but despair. Knowing his already lost me.

Taken.

I have been taken.

All that remains are broken pieces.

He who loved me so much, he who turned away from his goals long enough to soften me up, to grab hold of my heart so that I could never get my hands on it. To this day, I can only feel what’s left of it, which is why the pain that lingers deeply wound me. Knowing that it is with Solas is enough to reassure me, although the pain only gets worse. He is a shadow of his former self. He who, even today, clings to the meager moments we spent together in my dreams, this silent place, the freshness, nature still untouched, impenetrable. He who desperately wants to see me again.

He must think it is the last time.

Just like the others.

That is the reason as to why Solas is looking at me with such sorrow. His bruised expression, his eyebrows frowned.

Solas is convinced we won’t see each other again. He has to move on. Our story is done, a mere memory from the past I suppose. To him, at least. But I know he will come back. I know that, just like those previous times, he will soon accompany me in my dream and will drink in my image again. He will contemplate me just as he’s contemplating me at the moment, engraving the features of my face in his mind, and try to make do with them before it becomes unbearable, and he goes off to find me again.

I am unable to blame him.

We are the same.

Mutually we drink in each other. Greedily, eager for the meager crumbs that Solas allows himself to offer, we soak up the other's image. It suits us for the moment, even if it's never really enough.

Not after falling in love.

We are identical ; frozen in time. It is impossible for us to move an inch, as if this dream was as fragile as a porcelain doll. Only one movement and it will shatter. Solas is still leaning against the trunk of the tree, he hasn’t stopped looking at me; and I know it well, I only need to look at him in the eyes to understand what he feels. I do not pretend to know him. I do not pretend to predict his next move. However, I can recognize the troubled gaze of the man that I love. I can recognize watery eyes when I see them, as they beg for forgiveness. I love him so I understand. I feel his pain.

The sorrow engraved on his face pains me. It is a heavy weight on my chest.

Weakens my stomach.

An unpleasant feeling for an equally bitter dream.

Solas does not see me as his lover anymore. I am no longer the one with whom he saw the wonders of this world, I am no longer the one who made him laugh, the one who discovered him, the one who loved him and the one he loved.

I am a memory.

Frozen in place like a statue, a fragment of the past. A mistake. This is how he must see me. I am not meant to move.

An image of the past.

If I move, he will leave.

Just like the previous times, where I had tried to reach him ⸺ a desperate act guided by my unconditional love for him, I will only have to blink, and he will be gone. My gesture would have made him go away.

I suppose he can’t see me move; he is not ready for it. Not yet, not ever. My mere image is enough to sadden him, I can only imagine what my voice or my hand touching him might do.

I would like for him to explain to me where we are, I would like to understand. I know he thinks that I can’t. But I do not care. These majestic woods, surprisingly dense, and this starry sky above us, giving his soft pupils a sparkling glow. I would give anything for him to talk to me. To have him explain.

But this is what love is about.

To love is to turn back. To reach out.

And it is exactly what I do. In.

I do not care, in this moment, if I scare him away. I convinced myself that if I don't do anything, my feelings were not real to begin with, it would all have been a lie that would have lulled myself into for some sinister purpose. If I don't go after Solas now, then what is my love for him really worth ? How can I find the strength not to approach him while he is facing me ?

To love is to sin.

To love is to give in to temptation regardless of the outcome, to fall into a ditch with the risk of sprawling miserably, all the while hoping to be caught up, cajoled. I turned around because I love him. I reach out to him because I love him. And I always will.

I will always turn back.

It is as simple as that.

I love him enough to risk losing him, I love him enough to feel him running away from me.

Just as he succumbs to temptation and haunts my dreams. He loves me enough to sin again.

Such is our tragedy.

Hell, and heaven.

Joy, and despair.

We keep finding each other, only to part again. Its reasoning is beyond me. And I must say I do not care, not when I know it is my only chance to see him again.

So, my hand is outstretched, I am reaching out for him, determined to grab hold of him before he leaves me once again. I refuse to let him slip through my fingers. I'm hurrying. If I am fast enough... This time I hope he'll stay, bathe me in his comforting embrace and never hurt me again. I hope he'll pick me up. Maybe he'll even tear me away from this vile existence where I must make do with the mere memory of his image etched in my mind to ease my pain. I reach out because to love is to want. I reach out because despite the despair he causes me, nothing will change the way I feel about him. The grass at my feet hits my pajama bottoms. The air whips my face.

The moonlight caresses my skin.

It feels nice.

It is too good to be true.

Where are we ?

I feel myself being pulled back, but I'm moving forward.

Solas's eyes widen.

I'm going to find him, my love.

My legs feel heavy. Suddenly, I feel as if I am thousands of feet in the air. My breathing stops, I am being pulled back. A storm rages, but it doesn't exist. An army of arms holds me back, but I hold on. The woods are calm, undisturbed by our presence, and yet I am shaken. An immense weight weighs on my shoulders.

I know I won’t make it.

Solas's silhouette is blurring, it begins to disappear, yet I've only taken three steps. Do they really count when I'm about to stumble ? My mind goes blank. There he goes. He is slipping through my fingers as naturally as a current of water, as fatally as the destiny he is trying to impose on us despite my reluctance. And I am unable to stop him. Yet again... He leaves me behind.

My hands feel sore. I need to scream.

Solas is running away from me.

But I love him. So, I reach out, further this time.

Enough to see him go and continue to tear me apart a little more, I love him. He takes my heart with him. I can feel it throbbing in the palm of his hand, Solas won't let go. He has held on to it all the way. I can feel him clinging to it.

When he leaves, I feel vacant once more. My chest has been emptied. And when I finally reach the tree, Solas is no longer here with me.

I am alone.

It happened again, he left me.

The sky is falling, the world is crumbling all around me as my spirit starts to shake. The woods are empty, and I am all that remains. As well as the darkness emanating from the depths of the forest. It is about to devour me.

In a few seconds, it will banish me.

I do not even bother looking for him. Solas could be somewhere else, behind me or a few miles away, waiting for me, hoping I'll give him another chance to catch up. It is plausible. These are possibilities whose veracity I've tested many times before. Only, now I know he is gone. He is really gone, and he is not coming back. I do not hold it against him.

Rather, I thank him.

His weakness offers us respite, and as much as it shocks and breaks me, it comforts me in the idea that he remains the one I loved. That divine sinner whose goodness is matched only by his regret and sorrow. My benefactor.

My tormentor.

I do not care if he leaves, not when I know he will come back to me. I know he will. Because Solas loves me. He will visit me again, because it is our destiny : the tragedy that is our history. An insurmountable sorrow.

It is a vast wound, left wide open as a token of his kindness, which he tries to heal through his visits when midnight approaches and he requires my presence. That is how he loves me, as best as he can. Deep down, I have always known this. Or rather : I consented to it. I have accepted this burden from the moment our eyes met, from the moment he took my hand to close the gap. Sometimes, I can even feel it. His presence on my body, the caress of his kisses, the fiery breath between his lips. I remember it all.

Tormented soul by his divine duty.

I would not trade this reality for the world. I will love him no matter what. I won't stop trying to reach him, I won't stop looking for ways out so that we can have our second chance.

No, I would not trade it for anything else.

Not even as an immense pain lacerates my chest. Not even as he runs away from me and leaves me to mourn him.

Not even as my soul is being torn apart.

Because this is what love is about. And I love him. Endlessly.

#solas x reader #solas x female lavellan #solas dai #solas x inquisitor #solas dragon age #solasmance #fen'harel #dragon age inquisition

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trippygalaxy · 9 months

Note

Hello hello! I just read your MoonGod!FD×SunDeity! I couldn't help myself so sorry for sliding and nerding in;;

The funfact I love the most is thag moon shines thanks to the light it gets from the sun. It makes me think of the quote how the light it gets reflects the love of the Sun

Unlike the Moon, the Sun gave more importance to their duty. When they met the Moon who've shown his admiration for them, the Sun's feeling never changed but it gave more consideration.

Despite his hair, his moonlight, that shone has been cut away, the Sun now did their duty with the Moon in their mind so may the human he admired may still find hope and their way in the darkest of night.

Speaking of humanity, the moon covers a little nowadays but the (ancient) moon acted as a second shield to the Earth's atmosphere. One of the reason of craters, which are created by the impact of asteroids and meteor.

FD was chosen to fight humans but what if it's also to protect other humans? But he is not who he originally supposed to be. What they've done to him was worse than torture... And with no one to guard the moon, it lost its former form and now can barely protect the Earth.

I love the story about the solar eclipse. Sun's grieving is so intense... If the Sun makes you go blind, then the Moon cries for them too.

Moon and ocean are often depicted as lovers because how the ocean is affected by the moon... but imagine if those were the silent cries of the Fierce Diety.

He can barely remember but the sentiments remains. The moon, part of him, his home, now unreachable. His once blue eyes thrown away to the ocean turned into the cries of ceaseless wave and his voice became the roaring wind because the sky clouded his beloved Sun.

Cyclones are an attempt of the Fierce Deity going back to his beloved.

But when there sun shines on the sea, it's calm like singing a song and reflects its lights sparkling on the water's surface like once did and forever will in the Deity's eyes.

Even if he can't see his beloved Sun again, he can still feel their warmth endlessly embracing him.

Okay, this turned rather fluffy... I don't mind if you put dosage sprinkles of angst in it.

I LITERALLY LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE THIS AND YOU AND I NOW OWE MY LIFE TO YOU AND YOUR BEAUTIFUL BRAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DO NOT BE SORRY!!! I WELCOME YOU WITH OPEN ARMS INTO MY INBOX ANYTIME!!!!!!!!

Now, if you wish for me to grab this gift and sprinkle drown it in angst? I might be able to do that for you :3

The deity, once so joyful and calm, now is nothing more than a vengeful husk of the god he once was. He was once a protector, the shield against the emptiness of the void, the one who guided those with his light when they were shrouded in darkness, their man-made flickers into nothing but ambers. But now? Now, he painted the land he longed to walk upon red with the blood of the mortals he once protected. Now, he brings death and war with every swing of his intertwined blade.

He walked in the dull moon light, his skin prickling with bitter anger as he bathed his blood soaked form in the light.

No god had felt this much blood under their nails. No god had ever dared to harm and torture the mortals like he had. No god had ever...Avoided the sun's gaze as much as he had.

Others thought he found comfort in the night. Others found it ironic he only attacked under the gaze of his now battered and broken celestial body that hangs in the skin. Other simply thought it was a strategic war plan. But not one thought of how the deity shivered at the thought of acts he'd dared to commit under his lover's rays of light.

No matter how far his mind goes, no matter the lack of memories or emotions he looses over the years, he refuses to plan attacks under the sun's watchful eye. For he wouldn't dare slaughter the mortals the sun loved so dearly. He wouldn't dare become a monster to his Sun like he had to his mortals.

@link-or-sherlock HERES THAT ASK I WAS SCREAMING ABOUT!! /POS

#trippy answers #tales from the void #moon god! fierce deity #loz fierce deity #fierce deity x reader

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badsansandstarsansticklestuff · 11 months

Text

It is me again, rising from my grave to deliver you a ticklish Nightmare story

Characters: Nightmare, Error ( ship )

Context: Nightmare is overworking himself again and Error decides he needs a break

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

It was getting dark in Nightmare's castle, the moon rose a few hours ago, and despite everyone going to bed Nightmare was still in his office, doing his usual paperwork.

Error, his partner, was waiting for him in the bedroom, knitting, wondering if the goopy skeleton would come to sleep or if he would sleep on his desk. It wouldn't be the first time Nightmare did that. Error sighed when he looked at the time, it was already past two am. His boyfriend's behavior really pissed him off, it was infuriating to see him neglect his health for some papers. Error got up.

- That's it, he's gonna take a break.

Nightmare flinched when he heard the door violently opening.

- Error ? What are you doing up this late ?

- Oh you can talk ! You're the one who's supposed to be in bed !

He said, placing himself next to Nightmare, who sighed.

- I have work to do, I delayed it too much already.

- You need a break, you barely sleep and I'm pretty sure you're not eating enough.

Nightmare sighed again.

- I'm almost done, I promise, I just need a few more days. I'll rest after I finished.

- Fine ! Keep overworking yourself then !

Error angrily mumbled, going behind his partner's chair.

- Thank you, dear..

Nightmare turned to face his papers again but as soon as the pen hit the sheet he felt a poke on his side, making him jump.

- E-Error what are you doing ?

- Watching you overwork yourself, again.

- Please, just, don't disturb me.

He tried to write again, only to feel a new poke on his other side.

- Error, please.

He waited a few second before writing again, slowly, carefully, when nothing happened he sighed in relief and continued working. The calm however didn't last long as he soon felt soft spiders all along his sides, making him squeak and let go of his pen.

- Error ! Stop that !

- No.

Nightmare clenched his teeth, the spiders didn't stop, he couldn't escape as Error was directly behind his chair, blocking him between the seat and the desk.

- I'll stop if you take a break.

- I'm almost dohohone !

He giggled, feeling the spiders fastening while still being teasingly soft.

- Well you better change your mind soon then.

- You behehetter not !

Error didn't take the warning in consideration and kept spidering all over his poor boyfriend's sides, sliding his hand on his tummy and lower back every now and then, ignoring his complaints. Despite complaining Nightmare wasn't doing this much efforts to stop Error from tickling him, he was too tired to fight back, all he could do was giggle and pray for Error to have some mercy.

His giggles rose to turn into soft laughter when Error started to gently squeeze his hips.

- E-Error ! The ohohthers are sleheheping!

- Then why are you making so much noise ? Is something bothering you ?

Nightmare blushed, feeling so weak right now, he couldn't make him stop and even if he couldn't see his face due to Error being behind him he was pretty sure that he was smiling. It almost felt like torture, it was so soft ! So teasingly soft ! He was already so tired, he didn't think he could handle it for too long.

Error didn't seem so tired and didn't stop his attack, spidering and squeezing endlessly, finding amusing to make the great and powerful Nightmare giggle like a babybone. This went on for a good ten minutes before Nightmare couldn't take it any longer anymore.

- Ohohokay ! You wohohon !

Nightmare surrendered.

- I'll tahahake a brehehehahak !

- Really ?

- Yehehes ! Nohohohow stohohop !

Error smiled, satisfied, and finally stopped, letting Nightmare regain his breath.

- Now, how about you get some sleep ? You seem very tired.

He jokingly asked, as if Nightmare had a choice.

- Okay...

Error chuckled seeing his partner yawn and lead him to the bedroom, happy to have succeeded in convincing him to stop.

He tucked him in bed and laid down beside him under the covers.

- Sleep well, honey.

He kissed his cheek.

- Good night, dear...

Nightmare yawned, already falling asleep.

He really needed a break.

#undertale au tickle #tickles #tickle fic #dreamtale #dreamtale tickle #nightmare sans #ticklish nightmare sans

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go-go-devil · 9 months

Note

Top 5 autistic headcanons and top 5 aroace headcanons?

TRIPLE A LET'S GOOO!!!

Autism:

Dale Cooper (Twin Peaks): One of the most obviously autistic characters to ever grace television. The allistics just didn't get it probably because he was "too social" or whatever other slight deviation from what's stereotypical in autistic characters

Kris (Deltarune): I genuinely believe Kris is deliberately autistic-coded, mostly due to that "How to Care for a Human" book you find in the library in Chapter 2 but even beyond that all of their described behaviors are SUPER relatable to me as an autistic person (and bring me back to how I felt about it in my youth...)

Daniil Dankovsky & Various Other Characters (Pathologic): Thank you once again for showing me the light in how truly autistic Daniil is at his very core <3 Besides him though I'm also in agreement with the very code of Classic HD that Peter Stamatin and Grace are on the spectrum (tortured savant and death-obsessed weird girl rep respectively), but I would also argue that Yulia Lyuricheva is autistic as well. I mean the woman is described as someone who "sits in the corner and quietly observes others" and invented an entire philosophical theory in an attempt to explain the pattern of random events invisibly triggered by people. That's what we in the business call STEM-influenced autism :)

The Lodger (Knock-Knock): Yet another video game character that is so intensely autistic. Willingly living in isolation, simultaneously longing for and hating the presence of guests in your house, talking to yourself while pacing through the hallways & infodumping about the most niche scientific field imaginable? It's so relatable 🕯

Diane Nguyen (Bojack Horseman): This one maybe doesn't have the most "evidence" compared to the others per say, but I honestly found myself relating to a lot of Diane's personality quirks and struggles AS an autistic person (ex: hating surprises, trouble regulating her emotions/prone to emotional outbursts, having the most specific overly-convoluted Halloween costume ever). With her I think I'm more in the minority for this hc since her other mental illnesses overshadow her autistic traits, plus her's aren't nearly as obvious as Juda's (who as far as I'm concerned IS canonically autistic even if it's not outright stated by the characters)

Aroace:

Patches (Soulsborne Series): There is no fucking way this man has ANY desire for sex and romance. The only hole he's interested in are the enemy-infested ones he can kick you down! Plus I do know of that one famous line he says in Dark Souls 3 which he claims to be "devoid of all worldly wants" so this might as well be canon

Artemy Burakh (Pathologic): I don't care what the shippers think, I just love the idea of Artemy having a narrative revolving around the concept of "love" while being alienated and eventually coming to terms with how he himself doesn't experience this emotion in a socially conventional way. Besides just 'cause he's aroace in my mind doesn't mean he can't form QPR's ;)

Death of the Endless (The Sandman): ABSOLUTE AROACE ICON! She's a being who loves humanity, but keeps a reasonable distance between any individual person due to her role in taking their souls upon their death. Though instead of being all moping and "oh I can never allow myself to truly be close to those I love T_T" she's instead endlessly jovial and enjoys every second of spending time with other humans in a platonic fashion, brief as those seconds are in the grand scheme of her job. If that ain't actually positive aroace rep I don't know what is 🖤

Every Character in Hylics: All of them are aroace. They're functionally immortal clay aliens who probably don't even need to procreate in traditional means to produce new life, and besides they're more interested in prog rock than romance anyway 🌙 🎸🌯

Holden Caulfield (The Catcher in the Rye): A very personal hc for me. Reading that book was one of my earliest instances of me relating to a character for their lack of desire for sex and romance; in particular the whole story about Holden losing his best friend Jane due to her no longer valuing him as a friend and wanting a boyfriend instead, to which he couldn't find himself filling that role. It's just such a vivid portrayal of THE aroace experience of having your platonic connections become "lesser" in the eyes of society, and it really pisses me off that so many contribute this character trait of his as something "he refuses to grow out of" because no it fucking isn't! But then again most analyses of this book are godawful ableist pieces of shit so I'm not exactly surprised there's a lack of meaningful analysis on the main character being sexually deviant alongside his mental disorders

#asks #wow I had a lot to say for these lol #thanks again for the ask ✨

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headfullofpresley · 2 years

Text

You and me, kid (Chapter 6)

Oh Lord, Heaven knows we belong way down below.

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader (can be Austin!Elvis as well)

Word count: 5542

Warning(s): angst, crying, cursing, reader losing her shit when seeing Elvis in pain, Jerry in his feelings once again folks, lil reader x Jerry moment, Cissy telling it how it is (we love a queen), reader feeling herself, mentions of killing and murder, blood sharing/blood play(?), BLOODY SMUT, reader and Elvis being vamp couple goals

Author’s note: I was listening to Hysteria by Muse during the smut and that’s all I will be saying.

Click HERE for part 5!

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‘‘I'm endlessly caving in and turning inside out, ‘cause I want it now. Give me your heart and your soul; I'm breaking out, last chance to lose control.’’

It was honestly a miracle that none of the guests staying at The International had come knocking on Cissy’s door. If Jerry wasn’t going through the excruciating pain he was going through in the moment, he would’ve questioned the witch on it ─ the poor vampire just couldn’t seem to catch a break, could he?

‘‘Almost done, mr. Schilling,’’ Cissy chuckled from behind him as her fingers were pressed firmly against his temples, utter concetration resting on her facial features. Jerry grasped onto the arm rests of the chair he was on, screaming bloody murder. She was quite literally pulling the compulsion from his brain and it was a pain he had never experienced before. He couldn’t do anything to get his mind off of it, the magic that was being used on him clouding his entire being. He almost felt as if he was going to pass out from the force underneath the slender fingers of Cissy, but before he could she removed her hands and the pain was gone as quickly as it came. He watched her walk into the small kitchenette in her hotel room, casually washing her hands as he was breathing heavily. ‘‘You said I wouldn’t feel a thing!’’ He exclaimed, obviously annoyed with the fact that she lied to him. He was starting to question her motives and got up from his seat, striding over to her to get in her face. ‘‘How do I know it even worked? Are you sure we’re on the same side here, witch?’’

She scoffed as she turned to him, throwing the towel she was drying her hands with on the kitchen counter. ‘‘You should be thanking me, mr. Schilling. This was nothing compared to what I’m capable of, so watch your tongue,’’

Both species could feel the tension around them swelling up and they just stood there for a few seconds, neither of them breaking eye contact. Jerry unclenched his jaw and relaxed his muscles, lowering his shoulders. ‘‘It’s Jerry. Stop calling me by my last name, it makes me feel old,’’ he said, stepping away from her to walk over to the door. She raised an eyebrow and laughed with a shake of her head, following him. ‘‘Whatever you please, Jerry,’’ she hummed, emphasizing his name with a teasing tone in her voice. ‘‘Let’s go set some love birds free, hm?’’ she suggested though didn’t wait for his answer as she stepped in front of him, opening the door. She walked out of the room without waiting for him, smiling to herself when she heard the door close and his footsteps jogging after her.

The two figured their safest bet on finding you and Elvis was in his suite. Jerry had no idea what had went down while he was getting his neck snapped and being tortured by both an Original and a witch, but he gave Cissy a small nod as he heard you and Elvis’ breathing from the other side of the door once the couple arrived at the suite. His hand hovered above the door knob and Cissy sighed, pushing his hand down on it. ‘‘Are you questioning my abilities, mr. Schi- Jerry? The compulsion is gone,’’ she said confidently, knowing that it worked. Whenever she removed compulsion from a vampire, which honestly had not happened that often, she’d see images flashing of said vampire being compelled and what they had been told to do. Not to mention how she could feel all of the emotions they were experiencing. It was a rather unpleasant spell to perform, both for the vampire at the end of her fingertips as much as it was for her. Despite her not being fond of the blood sucking species, she didn’t think Elvis nor Jerry were bad people. The Colonel was the one who was a form of pure evil in the flesh and she wanted to get rid of him ─ she had to protect her girls and her own kind, especially against monsters like him.

Jerry sighed deeply as he twisted the knob and entered the room, looking up as you walked out of the bathroom wearing one of Elvis’ robes, hair still wet from the shower you just took. You gasped at the sight of him and ran over, practically jumping in his arms. ‘‘Oh my God, Jer,’’ you exclaimed as you squeezed him tightly. He ignored how his heart leaped in his chest and wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you back equally as firm. ‘‘Are you okay? I’m sorry for leaving you at the bar,’’ you apologized as he put you back on your feet and you pulled back to see his disheveled hair and bloody shirt. The thought of taking you out in the sun and killing you did not even occur to him for a second, which made him smile brightly. That damn little witch was good.

‘‘Me?! Are you okay? I should’ve gone with you, but they got to me before I could,’’ he said, laughing at your worries as he dropped his arms from around your waist. ‘‘I’m fine. I might be young but I ain’t no weak duckling,’’ you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows. He laughed softly and looked up as Elvis stepped out of the bathroom in his underwear, widening his eyes when he saw Cissy. ‘‘Don’t worry, she knows,’’ Jerry chuckled, walking over to his friend to pull him in his embrace to hug him tightly. Jerry couldn’t help but feel a slight sense of awkwardness at the contact but Elvis seemed clueless, patting him on the back before he let go of his friend to put on the robe you were holding out to him. ‘‘Baby, get me a drink, please?’’ he asked you sweetly, sitting down on the bed as he stared at Cissy in disbelief, who let out a laugh as she gave him a knowing look.

Cissy and Jerry had filled you and Elvis in on what happened and what they were planning on doing to The Colonel. You sat next to Elvis on the end of the bed, looking at the vampire and witch in front of you with a grin on your face. You didn’t even care what the plan would include, all you knew was that you wanted Parker dead ─ you wanted to rip out that fat heart with your own bare hands and you wanted to do it as slowly as possible, making sure he’d suffer.

‘‘I don’t think it’s a good idea,’’ Elvis spoke up and you looked at him with a thick frown, grabbing his arm. ‘‘It’s the compulsion,’’ Cissy spoke up as she saw the worry in your eyes, flashing you a soft smile and you nodded. You knew it was ─ after everything, the compulsion that has been used on him throughout the years still made him think his loyalty was with his manager. ‘‘He still thinks he owes his life to that pig,’’ Cissy sighed as she looked at Elvis, who downed his drink, letting the bourbon you had filled his glass up with roll around on his tongue. You tried to give him blood first, but he had scrunched his nose at the sight of it, as ofcourse The Colonel had compelled him to feed less and made him believe he wasn’t ‘good’ with blood. ‘‘I can remove it, everything of it, but it’s not gonna be a walk in the park,’’ she warned him and Jerry gasped softly, placing his hands on his hips as he shot her a glare.

‘‘He gets a warning?’’ he scoffed which made Cissy roll her eyes and you chuckled softly, looking at Elvis who was rushing a hand down his face, letting out a long deep sigh. He turned to look at you and as you smiled lovingly at him, he knew he was going to have to do this. It was time to get out of The Colonel’s claws and start to make his own decisions again. ‘‘I’ll do it,’’ he spoke up, kissing your cheek before he looked at Cissy, getting up from the bed, tightening his robe. Cissy nodded and looked at Jerry, who grabbed the arm chair that stood near the window, placing it in front of the bed. Elvis swallowed thickly as he sat down and put his arms on the arm rests, fingers pressing into the chair nervously.

‘‘How does this work?’’ You asked equally as nervous as you walked over to Elvis, taking his hands into yours as you situated yourself on your knees in front of him. Cissy got behind him and looked at you, placing her hands on his shoulders to give them a reassuring squeeze. ‘‘I’ll wipe out all of the compulsion he has ever been put under by Parker. The more Parker said, the more it’s gonna hurt,’’ she told you and Elvis squeezed your hands tightly at her words, his eyes meeting yours. ‘‘H-h-how much.. pain are we t-t-talking about here?’’ he stuttered as he turned his head to look at Cissy. When he saw the look in her eyes, he already knew enough and he quickly turned back to you. He had no idea what kind of pain he was about to experience, but when he looked at you, he realised that he didn’t care. He needed to do this, if not for himself, for you. ‘‘Do it. Get rid of that son of a bitch’s power on me, no matter how long it’ll take you,’’

With his approval, Cissy nodded and placed her hands on his head, digging her fingertips against his temples. You probably would’ve forced her one way or another to do it no matter what, even without his consent. As Cissy’s face contorted in concetration and her eyes closed, you were startled by the scream that ripped through Elvis’ lungs. His hands were squeezing yours so hard you felt a couple of your fingers break under his strength and gasped loudly, trying to release your hands out of his and grab onto his arms instead. When Jerry saw that he wasn’t letting go, he rushed over to you and peeled Elvis’ hands off of you, lifting you up and further away from the screaming man in front of you. Your fingers were already healed up again but you couldn’t find it in you to give a damn, crying at the sight of Elvis in pain as you muffled your sobs by pressing your hands over your mouth firmly. Cissy’s eyes were rolling into the back of her head now as she dug in a little deeper, which only caused the vampire on the receiving end to scream in pain louder. You knew this was for the best and it needed to be done, but knowing that he was in such pain made you want to jump out of Jerry’s arms and rip Cissy’s damn heart out. You didn’t have the chance though as Jerry carried you with him toward the kitchen, placing you back on your feet but keeping his arms wrapped tightly around your from behind. You cried as pressed your hands over your ears, though it did absolutely nothing to drown out the sounds of Elvis’ cries and agonizing screams.

‘‘Y/N, calm down, he’ll be alright,’’ Jerry spoke sternly as he could feel you trembling in his arms. He moved his hands to your shoulders and turned you around to face him, pressing his hands over yours that were still against your ears. The screams were muffled a little, but not completely gone. Right here in this moment, Jerry was hit with the truth as if he was hit by an uncoming train. No matter how fond he had grown of you and no matter how much his undead heart fluttered every time you smiled, he stood absolutely no chance against Elvis. You were utterly and infinitely in love with his best friend and while that nearly broke him, he needed to push his feelings aside right now and be there for you. As a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

‘‘Come here,’’ He said, the sternness in his voice fading as he couldn’t stand to see the distress you were in. As you were squeezing your eyes closed while crying, trying your hardest to not listen to the sobs tearing through the suite, he engulfed your head with his arms to press you into his chest and shush you, rocking you side to side as he tried to drown Elvis’ screams himself as well.

It must’ve been at least an hour, maybe even more, before Cissy was done and Elvis’ screams came to a stop. You rushed out of the kitchen and practically threw yourself in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck to hide your face in his neck and hold him with all your might. He grunted softly at the force and let out a little laugh, his voice hoarse as he spoke. ‘‘I’m okay, little one,’’ he cracked out and you lifted your head out of his neck, cupping his face to kiss his lips a few times. He looked absolutely exhausted and as you looked at the witch behind him, she looked a little out of it as well. ‘‘Thank you,’’ you smiled at her and she placed her hand on your shoulder, squeezing it softly before she let you turn your attention back to Elvis. Jerry came out of the kitchen as well, handing Elvis a blood bag and his mouth watered at the sight ─ you smiled fondly as you watched him rip it open and suck out the crimson liquid. Cissy scrunched up her nose a little and turned to Jerry, nodding her head to the kitchen. The man frowned a little but followed nonetheless.

‘‘Are you okay?’’ He asked as he grabbed a glass out of one of the cabinets, filling it up with water. She took it when he handed it to her and took a few sips, leaning her hips against the counter. ‘‘I’m fine,’’ she assured him, flashing him a quick smile, but he didn’t miss the way her face turned serious again and it caused anxiety to creep into his bones. ‘‘What’s going on?’’ he demanded to know in a hushed tone and she sighed deeply, putting the glass down as her eyes met his. ‘‘The compulsion is gone, but the things The Colonel has said and done… it just got me a little shook up,’’ she said, trying to wave off the subject but Jerry grabbed her arm before she could leave the kitchen, not caring if she would give him another brain fuck or not. ‘‘Cissy, tell me,’’ he told her and she sighed deeply, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she moved back closer to the counter and in front of him, which made him let go of her arm. ‘‘He tortured him for all these years, Jerry. Whenever Parker felt like he was going off track, he punished him by just.. doing unspeakable things─I saw it all happening. It felt extremely dark,’’ she whispered and Jerry frowned, looking over at you and Elvis. ‘‘What are you saying, Cissy? I don’t speak witch,’’ he spoke lowly, trying to get her to make a point. ‘‘There’s a chance that that darkness might linger. Maybe not forever, but for a while,’’ Jerry turned his head back to her, an uncomfortable knot forming in the pit of his stomach. ‘‘Parker compelled him to lay off on the blood because he was trying to get him to kill her,’’ she whispered, looking over her shoulder at the moment you and Elvis shared a kiss. He seemed to have gained a bit more color in his cheeks due to the blood he just consumed.

‘‘Because vampires will do anything for blood once they’re starved. Even feed on their own kind,’’ he mumbled as he was realising where she was getting at. She nodded her head, looking at the man in front of her again as she sighed deeply, reaching out a hand to squeeze his arm softly.

‘‘The sooner we kill The Colonel, the better,’’ she said and he immediately nodded, putting his hand on top of hers to give it a soft squeeze. ‘‘What about the ring?’’ he asked, squeezing her hand harder as she raised an eyebrow at him. He wanted you to have that day light and he wouldn’t take it lightly if Cissy wouldn’t live up to her word. Cissy pulled her hand back, laughing softly.

‘‘You don’t think you’re the one who will be giving it to her, do you?’’ she asked with a shake of her head, grin tugging at her lips. He leaned against the counter, looking away from her as he crossed his arms. She took a step closer to him, placing a hand on his chest, right on top of his heart that was beating nervously. ‘‘Your feelings for her will always be unanswered, mr. Schilling. If her cries didn’t make you see that, then you must really be blind,’’ she said in a whisper, though the words were still ringing in Jerry’s ears. He turned his head to look at her fiercely and she removed her hand. ‘‘She’ll have it on her finger tonight, by the doing of mr. Presley,’’ she gave him a knowing smile, turning around to leave him and his tangled emotions by himself.

The plan to kill Tom Parker was a good one─very good, but you were impatient and angry, not wanting to waste another second. You wanted that asshole to be begging for his life at your feet. And you wanted it now.

‘‘Why do I have to stay here? I’m perfectly capable of defending myself,’’ you exclaimed in annoyance as you stomped your foot on the floor, crossing your arms tightly as you were shooting daggers at Elvis who sat on the bed, putting on his shoes. He laughed softly at your antics and looked at you. ‘‘Because, little one, the sun is still out. I don’t want you getting hurt,’’ he told you and although his reasoning was fair, you were still annoyed. Cissy and Jerry had left to freshen up and to gain a bit more energy they lost throughout the morning. The plan was to kill off every single one of The Colonel’s minions first and if the fat waddling penguin would caught sight of you still being alive, he would throw you out into the sun without even thinking twice. Your role was to come in when it would be dark─compelling a couple of girls to distract The Colonel to get him somewhere alone and then you finally had the chance to do whatever the hell you wanted. Elvis got up from the bed and kissed you, running his fingers through your hair. You pouted at him as he looked down at you and laughed, but you weren’t giving up. The puppy eyes you were sending his way tugged at his heartstrings, but not enough to give you what you wanted. ‘‘I’ll be back before sunset. Wear something nice─tonight’ll be your first kill,’’ he grinned wickedly as he wiggled his eyebrows, the thought of finally killing that son of a bitch made the predator inside of him weep tears of happiness. You returned the same grin back at him, kissing his lips once more as he slapped your ass softly before leaving the room.

When Elvis was gone, you decided to finally clean up the suite that was still in the same mess it had been in since the moment The Colonel set foot inside. You threw the ruined decorations in a trash bag along with some left over food and pieces of glass that had been shattered in the living area of the room. You must’ve been on your knees for half of the afternoon, trying to get the blood out of the carpet but when you realised the stains were barely disappearing, you gave up. You didn’t care what the hotel would do if they’d see the state of their flooring. If they’d send Elvis a bill, you could easily compel them to shove it up their ass.

You did as told and decided to dress up for the occasion ─ putting on a midnight blue matching lingerie set, you grabbed the black high waisted hot pants you had in mind to wear and put it on the couch, picking up a velvet halter top in the same color as your lingerie after looking through the messily packed bag you brought over here before shit went down last night. You put the top next to the pair of shorts and pulled out a pair of boots of from underneath the bag, dropping them in front of the couch before you shoved your bag in Elvis’ wardrobe. You happily hopped over to the record player in the room and turned it on, smiling excitedly to yourself as you danced your way to the bathroom to start on your hair and make-up. Elvis had told you to wear something nice, but you were going to make sure he’d have a whiplash upon seeing how good you’d look. Your predatory senses were tingling in the pit of your stomach as you applied a darker shade of eyeshadow than you usually wore to your eyelids, fantasizing about killing The Colonel and how good it was going to feel.

You were so lost in the music that was playing and your daydreaming about your first murder, you didn’t hear the door of the suite opening and closing. You painted your lips bright red as you swayed your hips in the mirror, smacking your lips together before you blew yourself a kiss. It wasn’t until you noticed the presence in the room until the record that was playing was rudely interrupted and you gasped softly, turning to look out into the suite. As you saw Elvis walking over to you with a smirk on his face, your heart leaped in your chest and you had to grab onto the countertop to keep yourself steady. It wasn’t for that beautiful smirk on his face, but rather the blood that was covering the entire lower half of his face, his neck and his chest. You realised that it wasn’t his blood as he came closer and that made heat flush through your entire body, butterflies errupting between your legs in excitement.

‘‘Oh my God,’’ you breathed out desperately as he had his arms wrapped around your waist in a split second, sitting you down on the edge of the counter in the bathroom. Your legs wrapped around his waist as if on automatic pilot as he crashed his lips onto yours, dipping his tongue into your mouth hungrily. You groaned as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt, ripping the buttons off of the fabric before you pushed it down his shoulders in a hurry and as you crossed your ankles and pushed him closer into you, he replied by moaning lowly in your mouth. The blood you could taste on his lips and tongue was almost intoxicating, making you only hungrier for him and the blood he was letting you suck off of his lower lip when you pulled back. He was quick to get rid off your bra, throwing it to the floor as he lifted you off of the counter and threw you on the bed in the suite. You gasped as you watched the beast in him take over, pulling your panties down so fast you barely caught the fabric being thrown over his shoulder. As he was fumbling with his pants, you immediately sat up and flicked open the botton with quick fingers, helping him pull it down impatiently. You were surprised he wasn’t wearing any underwear and looked up at him ─ he grinned and grabbed your face, roughly kissing you as he moved you back down on the bed, moving along with you.

You moaned needily in his mouth as you felt the tip of his cock prodding against your entrance and wrapped your legs around his waist in desperation. Feeling desperate to be inside of you himself, he pushed himself into you and your walls clenched around him frantically. He pulled back from the kiss and watched the pleasure on your face for a little bit with a grin on his face as he slowly started thrusting. Once you were getting used to the feeling of being filled up by him, you pushed your ankles against his lower back, wanting him deeper and closer. He picked up his pace as he leaned down to kiss and lick at the skin in your neck at which you moaned at and he groaned deeply as you clawed your nails at his back. The bed was squeaking desperately underneath the force of his thrusts and he moved his hand to your lips ─ as soon as you smelled the blood of the minion vampires he had just killed on the digits, your eyes darkened and you didn’t even try to stop yourself as you wrapped your lips around his fingers. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head at the taste, a feeling of euphoria making you feel as if you were floating and Elvis took his chance, parting his lips before he sank his fangs into your neck.

You gasped in slight panic at first and for a second, you doubted if this was a good idea ─ until he growled against your skin and his thrusts became more calculated and harder. Pleasure took over and you moaned lewdly around his fingers and at the feeling of him hitting that special spot inside of you with every thrust. As he slowly restracted his fingers out of your mouth, you opened your eyes and moved your right hand away from his back to grab onto his forearm. You situated his wrist in front of your face and sank your teeth into it, drawing blood. As soon as his blood hit your tongue, you were an absolute goner. As if angels were singing to you personally, you felt yourself floating on cloud nine as your orgasm rushed through you at the speed of light, his blood you were consuming running down your chin as it slipped out from the corners of your mouth. Your mind was spinning and your entire body felt like it was set deliciously aflame─and he was experiencing the exact same feeling. He came undone inside of you as he pulled his fangs out of your neck to pull his head back up and look down at you as you pulled away from his wrist─ gasping softly as he moaned animalistically as his hips stuttered a few times. A drip of your own blood fell down his chin and you stuck out your tongue, looking up at him with dark eyes. ‘‘Fucking hell, baby,’’ he breathed out as he grinned, admiring the blood on your lips. You dropped his hand and ran your fingers through his messed up hair, smiling sweetly at him. If it wouldn’t be for the the bloody mess you two had created, he would’ve mistaken you for an angel. Instead, you were his little demon─and that was so much more up to his taste.

‘‘Is this what you’re wearing?’’ he asked after he came out of the shower a few minutes after you did, nodding to the outfit that was still laying on the couch. You were fixing your hair once more and touching up some of your make-up that got ruined as you nodded. ‘‘Yeah, you don’t like it?’’ you chuckled to yourself and he pressed a kiss on your shoulder before walking into the suite, dropping his towel to put on a clean pair of underwear. The clothes he wore were completely ruined and seeing you two were really going all out for this special kill, he was going to make sure he was going to look good. ‘‘I do. It’s perfect for tonight,’’ he grinned your way and you raised your shoulder playfully, shooting him a wink. He made a biting motion at you, the sound of his jaw connecting causing a shiver to run down your spine as you laughed softly, walking over to the couch to put on your outfit. Elvis opened his wardrobe and once you were dressed, you made your way over to him and ran your fingers down the black blouse he was wearing─it was completely see through, small white flowers covering the fabric. His tanned skin looked absolutely delicious with that dark chest hair peeking out and it almost made you jump his bones all over again. You made sure to caress your nails over his nipples over the fabric and he grinned as he grabbed your hands, shoving you backwards and away from him playfully. You laughed as you slapped his arm and walked over to the liquor tray, pouring some bourbon in two glasses. He grabbed his pair of black Chelsea boots and put them on his feet while he made his way over to you, taking the glass you reached out to him.

‘‘To us!’’ you cheered happily, raising your glass as you looked at him with a bright smile. ‘‘To us, little one. But mostly to you,’’ he said as he took your free hand in his, kissing the back of it as he lowered his glass a little. ‘‘For not giving up. I know a lot happened in a very short time and you could’ve left, but you didn’t. You stayed and I guess.. I wanna thank you for that,’’ he smiled softly as he gently pulled you into his chest, letting go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist, his thumb pressing slighty against the side of your boob which got you biting your lip softly. You placed your hand on his shoulder and smiled lovingly at him, watching him clink your glasses together. ‘‘I love you,’’ you sighed, hearts practically popping out of your eyes and he grinned, pecking your lips. ‘‘Not as much as I do,’’ at that, you grinned and mimicked his actions when he brought the glass to his lips. Both of you downed the whiskey at once and you let out a content sigh after swallowing the liquor, putting your glass down as you let go of him. ‘‘Now let’s kill that rottin’ cinnamon roll,’’ you chirped and he let out a laugh, looking at you. ‘‘First of all, that’s an insult to cinnamon rolls, baby. And second,’’ he caught your arm before you were out of his reach, twirling you back around. ‘‘I have something for you,’’ he smiled, digging his hand into his back pocket. You watched him open his palm, your eyes widening at the small velvet box in his hand─obviously containing a ring. You gasped as he flicked it open and you placed your hands over your mouth as you looked at the delicate golden ring with an amethyst stoned carved perfectly into the shape of a heart. You knew exactly what it was, but as you looked at him again, you grinned playfully. Removing your hands from your face, you theatrically threw your hair over your shoulder as you stuck out your hand to him. ‘‘Oh mr. Presley, I’m too young to get married but if you insist,’’

‘‘Oh, shut up,’’ He laughed wholeheartedly as he rolled his eyes, slapping your hand playfully before he took the ring out and slipped it on your finger. You giggled and admired the stone as it twinkled in the flickering neon lights of the city that shone through the room. ‘‘It’s gorgeous,’’ you said honestly, letting out a happy squeal as you swung your arms around his neck and hugged him. ‘‘But.. where did you get it from so quickly?’’ you asked as you pulled your head back, looking at him.

‘‘Honest?’’ he questioned and you frowned in humor, nodding your head.

‘‘Stole it out of one of the minions’ pockets after I killed him─figured it was a gift for his lady or something. Then Cissy did her whole.. juju thing,’’

You gasped as you looked at him, raising your hand to look at the ring and then back at him before you bursted out in laughter. He laughed along, relieved that you weren’t throwing the ring right back into his face. ‘‘That’s even better,’’ you grinned, pecking his lips as you grabbed his hand and held yours next to it, smiling at the rings. His one was obviously chunkier and had a different stone, but they looked perfect together. ‘‘Now you’re ready for the kill, and for your first sun rise,’’ he grinned, pressing a kiss on your cheek and you smiled from ear to ear before you tugged him along out of the room to meet Cissy and Jerry in the lobby.

With excitement in your bones, you admired the ring around your finger every chance you had─and the fact that tomorrow morning, The Colonel would be dead and gone and you’d finally be able to enjoy a cup of coffee with the morning sun shining brightly on your face.

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