#i finally figured out why chapter 5 was so hard to write | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whimsyfinny · 7 months ago

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: language, angst, depictions of blood

Chapter Word Count: 3327

—-MDNI—-

A/N: soooo this chapter felt weird to write, but hey I wanted it for the plot to thicken haha. It’s different, but things will feel a bit more normal after this chapter.

——————————————————————

Please read the below:

Prologue Chapter 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6 Chapter 7

Chapter 8pt.1

Chapter 8pt.2

Chapter 9 Chapter 10

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 11

By the time I’d passed the security check, introduced myself to the two other girls currently on shift and found my dressing room, the nerves were starting to dissipate. Through each step and each new room I’d entered I was making countless mental notes on every security camera and exit I could see. It wasn’t hard to tell that everyone except the bar and wait staff and the dancers were all vampires - their noses twitching and eyes widening whenever I’d walked past. I was clearly fresh meat - perhaps not in the immediate future, but I’m guessing that as soon as I’d served my purpose in luring unknowing human men to their untimely demise, I’d be next. Or at least kept as a blood bag, and I didn’t know which was worse.

A sharp knock on the door brought me back to reality, the vamp on the other side not even waiting for a reply as he barged in.

“You’re sure taking your time sweet cheeks, everything ok?” His sharp gaze twinkled as he looked at me, as if searching for any sort of vulnerability. I huffed out a final deep breath of nerves before standing straight and forcing a smile, shimmying out of my thick overcoat and throwing it over the back of the chair I was just leaning on. On the revelation of my figure and my outfit he let out a long, low whistle.

“Well don’t you just look good enough to eat?”

I swallowed despite my mouth being dry, trying my best to bring my confidence to the forefront and to ignore what he is.

“Well you wouldn’t be the first to say so,” I almost felt nauseous from having to sound so sweet. “Why don’t you lead the way and show me where I’m supposed to be?”

He didn’t take any convincing as he led me out the room and down a short corridor that was lined with what I’m assuming are other dressing rooms.

“What’s in there?” I asked, my gaze snagging on a metal door that didn’t look like the rest. It looked more like a vault, with an intricate lock system that seemed to need both keys and fingerprints.

“Errrrr, just the boss's office. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” he placed his hand on my hair, making me shudder.

“Oh ok… will I ever get to meet the boss?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. Keeping up with this cutie-pie act was going to be more draining than I thought. He stayed quiet for a moment before speaking up, an unsettling look on his face.

“Of course doll face! When the time is right.”

About two hours had passed since I arrived at the club and a steady stream of men (occasionally women) was filtering in. I was currently up on a podium and trying not to think too hard about how I should be dancing whilst keeping my eyes peeled on the crowd, every now and then making eye contact with the patrons and blowing them a sickening kiss with a sultry wink. Every time I slipped away for a ‘toilet break’ I'd unlock as many windows and doors as I could find whilst turning security cameras towards the wall. I'd counted around fifteen vampires milling around as I snuck about, and there were definitely more behind that metal door. This place was about as prepared as possible for Sam and Dean to sneak in, so I sent Charlie a text with all the details I had knowing full well she could no longer see me through the cameras she'd hacked into.

I'd been back on my podium for about ten minutes, moving my body to the loud bass of the blaring music under the erotic lighting which glowed all manner of pinks and reds, when the front door opened again to let another patron in. Except this wasn't a patron.

It was Dean.

I cursed under my breath, frowning at him across the dance floor despite the fact he hadn't seen me yet. What the actual fuck was he doing coming in through the front door? I didn't play mission impossible and find countless ways for him to break in just so that he could waltz in, bold as brass and blow our cover. I watched him as he stopped in the centre of the room, illuminated by the lights that cast angular shadows over his rugged face. He was alert, jaw clenched and eyes scouring the crowd until his gaze eventually landed on me. With my arms above my head and gripping the pole behind me he was able to get a good look at what was hiding underneath my overcoat when he last saw me. Eyes glazing over and Adam's apple bobbing, he was instantly ensnared. I focused entirely on him; sinking to my knees and crawling my hands forwards, beckoning him with a single finger to which he eagerly obliged. The older Winchester stood before me, eyes almost sparkling from the lustful lighting as he gaped up at me. His evergreen eyes shone in adoration as they bore into mine, almost completely disregarding the lasciviousness of the rest of my body. It was almost…

Romantic.

I leant forwards, my painted lips brushing against his ear and pulling a shiver from his spine. I could have been mistaken, but I’m sure I heard a groan.

“What the FUCK are you doing here, Dean?”

He blinked, suddenly remembering he was on earth.

“What?”

“The plan! What happened to the plan? You were supposed to go around the back - I made it easy for you to sneak in! This place is well guarded Dean.”

“Yeah well, I wanted to make sure you were- hang on- are you a MAID?” He stepped back to take a better look at me as I sat up, trying not to draw attention to myself for staying still for too long. My eyes rolled on their own accord.

“Dean now really isn’t the tim-”

“Holy crap you’re a maid. You’re a MAID. So there is a God,” he dramatically put his hands together as though in prayer and mouthed ‘thank you’ to the disco ball on the ceiling.

“Dean-”

“Nuh-uh, I’m not letting anyone ruin this for me - not even you. Carry on, pretend I’m not Dean and there aren’t any vamps to kill; just for two minutes,” he settled into one of the chairs in front of my podium, flagging a waitress down for a whiskey in the process. There was no arguing with Dean Winchester, especially when he was ticking something off his bucket list. Grasping the pole behind me I pulled myself to my feet, hooking my leg around it and spinning slowly.

“So, NOT-Dean, where’s not-Sam?”

He took a long sip from his liquor before licking his lips, his eyes transfixed on my thighs.

“He's uhhh…. He's sneaking in through some window round the back.”

“Oh, so like you should be?”

He smirked over the top of his glass, spreading his legs a little wider as he settled further into his chair, his other hand resting in his lap.

“Don't deny a man his pleasures sweetheart.”

A half hearted scoff left my lips before I climbed higher on the pole, leaning back so I was almost upside down, granting Dean the perfect view of my lingerie as my micro-skirt flipped over my belly. Spinning slightly, I caught him adjusting himself in his jeans right as I pulled myself back upright.

“You seem pretty at home in a strip club,” my voice came out more breathy than intended as I moved my body in time with the music.

“I can say the same about you,” he quipped back, dark eyes burning into my exposed skin. Licking the last drop of whiskey from his bottom lip, he placed his glass back on the table before standing; taking long, slow steps towards my podium, the toes of his boots touching the metal. I got down on my knees, bringing myself to his eye level before taking his chin between my thumb and index finger and drawing his bewitched face nearer. We ignored the shouts from security telling Dean he wasn’t allowed to touch as I ghosted my lips over his. I could feel his chest rising and falling in anticipation for a simple kiss, his mouth agape and eyes darting about my features - trying to take all of me in. His restraint snapped and he leant forward, pressing his mouth to mine - hot and needy. A large hand reached up and long fingers wrapped around my wrist, rough skin tickling at my pulse as he guided my hand from his chin to his hair, urging me to grip it. Just as I grasped at its softness he was forced away from me, two of the vamps shoving aggressively at his shoulders and putting some distance between us.

“Keep your hands off the girls! You know the rules,” one of them practically spat out his words to Dean, who in return had a feral look in his eye as I caught his hand inching closer and closer to the blade concealed within his jacket.

“Sorry it was my fault!” I blurted, all eyes now burning into me. “It's my first shift and I forgot I shouldn't let it get that far. Don't blame him, it was me who was too…. encouraging.” I flashed sickly-sweet doe eyes at the vamp sizing up Dean, biting my lip in apprehension before he sighed and let go, shaking his head.

“I’ll let you off this time as you’re the newbie, but don’t let it happen again.”

“Yes’sir!” I tapped my fingers to my forehead in a pretend salute, hearing the fanged ones curse under their breath before walking away, throwing one last warning look at Dean - who looked like the cat that got the cream - before returning to their posts. When I knew that they were definitely out of earshot, I snapped at Dean.

“You could’ve totally blown everything!”

Shrug.

“But I didn’t.”

“Dean, you need to go. Sam is going to be wondering where you are. Find him before you get caught.”

“And what about you?” He chewed his lip, unable to stop his eyes from wandering.

“I’m going to stay here and stick to the plan. I’ll run at the first sign of trouble, so please don’t worry about me,” I sighed, looking down at his puppy-dog eyes.

“(Y/n) I’m always gonna worry about you.”

It must have been about twenty minutes since Dean left to find Sam and my heart was pounding in my chest knowing how close they were and the possible danger they were in. I didn’t know what doors they were behind, or how many vamps they’d taken out, and I certainly didn’t know if they were unharmed. My palms felt sweaty on the pole as I danced, making it hard for me to grip and put on a good show. Now was as good a time as any to have a toilet break and grab some coffee. I hopped down from my podium as the song ended and hurried to the back of the club, darting through a ‘staff only’ door to the break room. I poured myself a small cup of coffee, adding an obscene amount of sugar to stop my knees from trembling. I’d barely swallowed my first mouthful when I heard shouts and crashing from down the hall, my fingers instantly loosening from the mug as my high-heeled feet carried me to the door where I peaked out, desperate to know what was going on yet mindful not to be seen. There was no one in the corridor that I could see, yet I checked left and right to make sure I wasn’t being watched before I slipped out, teetering on my platforms as I tiptoed to where I was sure the noise had come from.

It was the metal door.

I poked my head down the corridor where it was located and was grateful to see it unlocked and sitting ajar. Inching closer I could hear a scuffle from within and the sound of heavy bodies dropping like lead to the floor, followed by Sam and Deans unintelligible murmuring. A sigh of relief left my lips when I heard them, knowing it wasn’t their bodies hitting the cold tiles below. That relief froze in my veins however when I heard a third voice speak up. A voice that was smooth like butter. A voice that drew you in with a silky southern accent.

A voice that I knew to be dead.

Hesitation and reasoning left in the dust, I barged forwards and into the room, shoving the metal door wide and startling the Winchester brothers, their eyes widening at my sudden appearance. Before they even had the chance to open their mouths, slow clapping echoed through the ‘old money’ style office, emanating from behind a large mahogany desk.

“And there she is! The star of my show. It’s about time you showed up darlin’,” that southern voice dripped with charisma as a handsome man, around my age, sat in a crisp stone-coloured, three piece suit.

“Hey! Don’t you talk to her, you’re dealing with us,” Dean was quick to bite. The stranger threw him a sharp glare before rising to his feet, his cold gaze landed on me again and burned me through to my very soul.

“Y-y-you’re de-” I started before being immediately cut off.

“I bet you never thought you’d see me again, hm? Especially not like this,” he gestured to himself.

“(Y/n),” Sam’s cautious eyes landed on mine, “how do you know him? He’s a vampire.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but yet again I was interrupted before a sound passed my lips.

“Oh (Y/n) and I go waaaaaaaay back, don’t we darlin’?”

I could see Dean inching closer to me out of the corner of my eye, trying not to draw attention to himself in the process. I opened my mouth to speak again, my lips and tongue feeling dry and numb, like they didn’t want to utter the word about to be spoken.

“Daniel I-”

“BINGO!” He clapped loudly, “she DOES remember her old sweetheart.”

“WHAT!?” Both Sam and Dean spun to look at me with dumbfounded expressions, a whole array of emotions flitting across their features.

“(Y/n) you dated a vamp?” Sam asked, those big eyes of his glistening with concern.

“He wasn’t a vamp when I knew him; he’s supposed to be dead!” I turned from Sam to Daniel, the confusion clearly evident on my face, “you’re supposed to be dead - I watched you die - how are you here?”

A harsh laugh rippled from his chest.

“Paramedic was a vampire sweet-cheeks. He turned me on the way to the morgue after he pronounced me dead at the scene - stroke of genius really. Although,” he paused, walking around the desk to step towards me, the boys reaching for every weapon on their person to have at the ready, “what’s even more genius is that ad we put out for a dancer.”

“What?”

He scoffed.

“You think it’s a stroke of good luck that you just happen to look exactly like the description we posted? Honey I knew from the moment I turned what you and your uncle did for living - the dots seemed to connect all on their own. And I knew that one day - whether now or in a few years - that you or some other hunter you might know would pass through my nest and see it. I knew it would bring you back to me.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hang on their sparkles; she’s not going anywhere with you,” Dean had pushed his way in between me and Daniel, the eldest Winchester standing a few inches taller than him as they went nose-to-nose.

Daniel grimaced, fangs threatening to show.

“Why is her scent all over you? Don’t tell me you two are involved?”

Dean smirked before I shoved him out the way, his thick fingers protectively wrapping around my wrist as a safety line.

“Daniel I-,” I took a deep breath, “I loved you once. A long, long time ago. But to me, in my world; you died. And I grieved you. God I grieved you for years, and then one day I woke up and my heart didn’t hurt as much anymore. I carried on with my life, the heartache easing a little everyday. Until there was no more heartache - no more pain. I was whole again. Daniel - you’re still dead in my world. Nothing is going to change.”

He reached for my hand but Dean put an arm between us, stopping him in his tracks.

“(Y/n), darlin’, I put that ad out because I still love you. We can still be together - forever. Just let me turn you-”

“Aannnd that’s it loverboy, times up,” Dean pushed me behind him and brandished the hunting blade he’d use to slice my underwear from my body about a week ago on our first hunt together. Right as Daniel bared his fangs and lunged for Dean, I felt another hand grab my arm. I spun and came toe-to-toe with Sam who was quietly beckoning for me to follow him whilst the vampire was distracted. We left the room quietly, running down corridors, twisting and turning and falling through one of the side doors I had unlocked earlier in the night and out into the fresh air. I took a few deep breaths, not realising how much the metallic scent of blood had filled my nostrils.

“Sam what about Dean?! We can't just leave him behind he-”

Sam laughed softly.

“If you want a vamp dead, Dean will always come out on top. He'll be just fine.”

Sam helped me to my feet, looking down at me, his gaze turning from reassuring to questionable. I sighed, weariness starting to settle into my bones.

“I know, I know. I can explain it all later,” I said, starting to shuffle back to the impala, seeking the comfort of its plush leather seats.

“What? No, (Y/n) you don’t owe me an explanation if you don’t want to. I just want to know if you’re ok?”

I stopped and looked up at him, and something about the kindness of his voice and the concern in his eyes had me falling to my knees, my body heaving out a sob. Then another. And another. Until I couldn’t stop for air and hot tears washed my makeup down my face and my hair stuck to the streaks they left behind. Sam simply crouched down and pulled me into him, rubbing my back and telling me softly that everything will be ok. It was a comfort to feel his chin on my head and his heartbeat beneath my fingertips, the steady thrum eventually soothing away my anguish.

I have no idea how long we were sat there for, but he eventually coaxed me to my feet and led me to the car where Charlie was waiting with a pained expression. She would have seen, or at least heard everything that went down through the security cameras linked to her tablet - she was one of the few people in this life that had met my ex.

I was gently manoeuvred into the back seat, my head resting on Charlie's lap as she played with my hair. Sam had waited outside the impala for a few minutes before climbing into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed. Not five minutes had passed when the door slammed again as Dean clambered in, the stench of blood thick on his clothes, however the comforting scent of his cologne still managed to waft through. He turned to face me, those mossy green eyes piercing into mine as he said with the gentlest tone he could muster:

“It’s done, sweetheart.”

——————————————————————

Next: Chapter 12

——————————————————————

@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester reader insert #dean winchester enemies to lovers #eventual smut #enemies to lovers #supernatural smut #supernatural fanfiction #slow burn #supernatural #smut

178 notes · View notes

spookypete-94 · 6 months ago

Text

Dark Horse-Matching Bands

Chapter 8 (Final Chapter)

PriceXFem!Reader

Reader is a single mother, working double shifts at a restaurant. Father of the child starts to become a problem while reader is at work and Price offers a solution. Slight age gap between reader around 25 and Price around 35.

This is it! This chapter is lots of fluff, happy ending. After this is completed plan on working some more Simon things and then have an idea of returning to this, but writing it through Price's POV. Will be darker in influence than this one however. Think our Captain is a little more selfish then what this story portrays. Kind of like the other half of the coin thing.

Thank you all for taking the time and reading this series, just really wanted to do something sweet. <3 I truly do appreciate this fanbase and its readers.

Adrenaline had worn off by the time you had reached your bed. Body heavy like someone had tucked concrete into it making relief fill you by the time you had hit your pillow. After it all, you really thought sleep was going to be hard… but honestly it was the easiest that had been delivered to you all night.

In fact, when you woke up in the morning, you felt so far out of it. Honestly, you probably could have slept for another 5 hours. Finally forcing yourself to come to, you realized it was your phone vibrating on the nightstand. Quickly picking it up, you palmed it until it answered.

“Mornin’, lovie.” Your heart mended and melted at the voice.

“John.”

“How’d you sleep love?”

“Honestly… not terrible.”

“Best you have in a while, huh.” He had wanted it to sound like a question, but instead it came out as a matter-of-fact statement. You both know why you slept so well. You had no reason to fear anymore. Your biggest fear was dead.

“Yeah… How’s Abel?”

“Still sleepin’, him, Johnny and Kyle stayed up late telling ghost stories.” There was a joke hidden somewhere in there, sleep just kept it hidden from you.

“He catch any fish?” You asked instead.

“He did, learned to clean them too. Had a proper day of teaching with him.”

It made you smile. The idea of Abel spending time with a male figure that was teaching him real life lessons.

“Good.”

“I’ll have him call you when he wakes up. Think you should probably go make a cuppa’ and turn the news on for now love.” A hint. An order what had been done last night.

“Ok, see you in a while John.”

Finally doing what he advised, you sat with a cup of coffee in your hands steam still rising off the top. The remote was on the table in front of you, parallel with the TV.

It seemed so far away and the thought of picking it up to turn the TV on almost too heavy for you. Like the concrete from last night had returned all at once. A heavy breath in, you reached for it, powering it on and flipping on the news.

The very first headline BODY HAS BEEN FOUND.

Instantly, you shut your eyes, seeing the murder scene all over once again in your small bathroom. Forcing them back open, you watched. Listening intently while the newscaster explained that a male body had been found in an alleyway after what looked like a bar fight gone wrong.

The face was so mangled from a beer bottle they assumed; they were having a hard time identifying the victim. Your heart pounded so loudly, Blood trying to reach your head filling your ears, rushing like an ocean and beating like a drum. You had done this. You had destroyed any facial recognition of him… all by your hand. The thoughts came in like a flood. The father of your child. What kind of monster were you?

A loud knocking on your door brought you back, making you jump and spill coffee down the front of John’s shirt. Quickly jumping up to look through the peephole, two officers stood waiting. Like the good girl you were, you opened the door for them.

“Morning Ma’am, may we come in?” They politely asked. Giving a wide birth on the door, you obliged.

“We’re here to notify you of some news…”

Afternoon had rolled around. You sat outside waiting for their vehicle to pull up. John had kept his promise to you, and Abel had called you shortly after the officers left. After Abel had passed the phone back to your husband he asked about your visitors. Finding it strange that you had not told John about the officers stopping by yet to give you a death notification, you still told him about it.

One of the officers had known John, his name Alex Keller, a detective for the force. Alex had called you by your maiden name, politely you corrected him and explained how you were freshly married, what your new name was and who you married.

“Have known John for a long time. Good man.”

Maybe Alex had called John to let him know he met you and what had happened…

Seemingly they asked a few questions about your personal life with your ex. How long you had known him, how you had known him. The basic stuff. News to you however, your ex had been estranged from his family for years now. He had no relationship with them whatsoever. They had tried to reach out to his parents, but they had cut him off due to behavioral problems. How ironic his own knew what kind of person he was and chose to do nothing about it. All the officers were looking for was a few answers and a place to do a proper death notification.

“Do you see it possible that he could have been in involved in a bar fight?”

“Yes,” you honestly nodded.

“Did he have anger problems?”

“Yes.”

From there you told the tale of the physical and verbal abuse from the very beginning… all the way to his untimely end.

“Well Mrs. Price, we are sorry for your loss. At this time, it is still under investigation, but it appears to us that he was involved in a bar fight. Was attacked with a beer bottle and then strangled. His wallet was left behind with his ID, but nothing else in it. It looks to be a murder and mugging. Here’s our contact if you need anything else from us.”

It seemed so routine for them, like they had expected this outcome from you already. The innocent baby momma rid of the evil that plagues her and her child. Towards the end, it was like someone had held up a seashell to your ear. You could hear the conversation… but it was like they were so far away at the same time. Shock was settling in. Thankfully it wasn’t long after that, they had left your humble abode. Pleasantries exchanged and not even a suspect on the list… How was this possible?

And there you sat on the porch, waiting in a chair outside… Counting your lucky stars you were not placed in a jumpsuit behind bars. Still wearing the guilt all the same. Your happiness finally arriving on 4 wheels as a little boy jumped out to greet you.

“Mom!”

John had stopped to pick up dinner. Your favorite to try to cheer you up and thank you for letting him go on a trip shortly after you were married.

Finding the words finally at the dinner table, you explained to him to the best of your ability about his father passing.

Abel took it in stride. Yes, he was hurt and disturbed someone could do this his father, but he was the sweet boy you had raised after all. Abel did start asking a few questions, where John thankfully took over for you. He could tell it was hard for you to lie to Abel about what had really happened. It was something you would never ever tell him, wanting to take it to your grave now. John and his boys being the only ones who knew what had happened. Of course, none of them saw the sin in it like you did, they only saw justice. Simon, in fact telling you once that if was not you that really killed him, it was Ghost himself that had. Like it was a joke, trying to make you feel better. All it could do was place a sad smile on your lips.

“Worlds better of without him.” John had grumbled into your ear once you were both settled into bed, hand rubbing up and down your sides. That was the moment you tried to explain to John, it was not the fact that it was the man that had hurt you over and over since you were a teenager, but the fact it was a human life in general.

“Happens every day. Eventually bad behavior is answered one way or another.”

“But it makes me bad too.” You argued in a whispered hiss to him.

“No, it makes you a mother willing to defend what is hers. You really expect me to believe that you were goin’ to let him take you away from Abel and I? He paid his consequence. We could have worked it out like adults.” His hand had found your ring finger on your left-hand stroking over his mother’s band, something he seemed to do when you or he needed soothed.

Reaching for his hand, you realized it had a wedding band in return. Pulling it up out of the sheets glancing at it, knowing you had not given him one yet. It was opal on set in gold that matched yours.

“Had it made with the stone that Abel got on his field trip. The maker rushed it for me so we could match.”

“It’s pretty…” you whispered, holding it up yours. Husband and Wife finally made whole. Married for convenience for you, convenience you would ironically not need any more since your ex was dead.

It wouldn’t change anything for you though, you would pick John over and over in this lifetime and the next. He had shown you loyalty and love in a time and place no other stranger would… Except the other three of John’s that made it clear they envied their Captain that is. Who knew a group of men could care so much for a woman in dire need of it. Perhaps soldiers made the best lovers when created correctly? Who knew.

Life had changed so much in just a few years. Thinking back, you had always just pictured yourself working and slaving away at the diner. Yes, you were grateful for it, but a part of you would always want more for yourself and Abel. Here it finally was. In a new strong and sturdy house John had built for you. Working part time at the diner now, home at night with Abel and John. Sometimes John would be gone for months at a time, not always able to communicate with you either. Worry sometimes would fill your mind, but he always found his way back to you.

On one of his returns, he had given you a child. Now round with his seed, ready to pop he sat with you at the hospital. This time was entirely different. Instead of having to do it alone here John was with you. Not able to go to every appointment, he at least made the milestone ones. When worry and panic would rise within you from the pregnancy, he would quell it down. Thumb rubbing across your wedding band making you reach for his to do the same. Life was perfect. Honestly it left you confused on what exactly you had done to deserve such an outcome, but maybe if you didn’t question it, whatever greater force was out there would let you keep it.

Being thankful rewarded you with a healthy, beautiful little girl, a branch off John’s tree. Her bright blue eyes identical to his with his heavy brown locks. After all John had given you, you let him name her. A man of pattern and devotion, he named her after his mother. Sarah. So here you sat… babe bundled into a blanket in a rocking chair watching John and Abel out in the yard. No longer haunted, you were protected and loved. More importantly though, Abel and Sarah would be defended for their childhood. Something that was not provided to you or John.

Life is good.

Masterlists

Previous Chapter

Dark Horse Chapters

Taglist:

@cutiecusp @angeldemon28 @simplyymee98 @beebeechaos @cadotoast @talooolaaloolla @lhhlver @hon3y-cloud @spktrgantenk @generalruinsexpert @freshlemontea @hearmesingoutfromthelostandfound

111 notes · View notes

deezee112 · 2 months ago

Text

The worst ending 3 : Shattered Perfection

The worst ending 2 | The worst ending 4

Yandere!Deuce Spade x GN!Reader

A/N : I'm back!! I'm sorry for posting so late, I just got back from camp which was so torturous😭 And I'm writing chapter 5, the draft is almost done. I've been feeling quite inspired to write lately.

My inspiration came just a few weeks ago...

Warning : This story contains themes of emotional dependency , accidental death , intense guilt , and grief , The narrative explores a tragic , It doesn't have any yandere content but it's so sad. I'm sorry, little one 😭😔

Tags :

@iris-arcadia

If you want me to tag you please tell me.

English is not my first language.

You stared at the lifelike doll before you, its glassy eyes a mirror of uncertainty, as if reflecting the internal debate waging within you. Crowley's words echoed in you head " Raise this child, and you may find purpose in your mundane life! "

It wasn't purpose you sought—your always been a driven individual. But something about this child, sitting there so quietly, had tugged at you heartstrings in a way you couldn't explain. You stern, sarcastic nature wavered for just a moment.

Finally, you sighed. “ Alright, fine. I’ll do it. ” you muttered. “ But don’t expect me to be some doting mother figure. ”

As you reached out to the doll , it blinked , startling you. It was alive in every sense of the word. The doll no the boy—looked at your with wide, curious eyes , as though silently asking, What now?

“ I’ll name you...Deuce. ” you said finally. The name felt fitting somehow simple, yet strong.

Raising Deuce wasn’t easy. From the moment he began to walk and talk, it became evident that his emotions often got the better of him. His anger flared like a wildfire over the smallest inconveniences: a misplaced toy, a frustrating lesson, or even you own sarcastic quips.

“ Deuce, I said no! You can’t have ice cream for breakfast. ” You said one morning, you tone sharp but not unkind.

“ But why not?! ” Deuce shouted, stomping his foot. His cheeks flushed red, and his tiny fists clenched at his sides.

“ Because I said so. ” you crossed you arms, you calm demeanor masking you frustration.

Deuce glared at your, his temper simmering just beneath the surface. For a moment, you thought he might lash out physically. Instead, he stormed off to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Later, he returned, his head bowed and his small hands clutching the hem of his shirt. “ I’m sorry, Y/n.. ” he said softly. “ I didn’t mean to get mad. ”

You crouched down to his level, placing a hand on his shoulder. “ It’s okay, Deuce. But you need to learn to control that temper of yours. You can’t let your emotions get the best of you. ”

“ I’ll try. ” he promised, his big, earnest eyes filled with determination.

“ Good ” you said, rubbing his head.

Despite the challenges, You and Deuce formed a bond stronger than you ever anticipated. You saw past his outbursts to the kind hearted boy beneath. He tried so hard to be good, often scribbling little apology notes after his tantrums or offering to help with chores.

One evening, after a particularly rough day, Deuce came to you holding a small bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked from the park. “ These are for you. ” he said shy, his cheeks tinged pink.

You raised an eyebrow but couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “ Flowers, huh? Trying to butter me up so I’ll forget you broke my coffee mug this morning? ”

Deuce looked down, fidgeting with the stems. “ I just...wanted to make you happy... ”

You heart softened. “ Thanks, Deuce. They’re beautiful. ”

In moments like these, you forgot he was just a doll a creation meant to mimic life. To you, he was simply Deuce, the boy who wanted so desperately to do right by you.

It was a stormy afternoon when everything went wrong. you had been working from home, typing away on you laptop while Deuce played with his toys in the living room. The thunder rumbled ominously outside, and rain lashed against the windows.

“ Deuce, be careful with that ” You called, noticing him swinging a wooden sword dangerously close to the lamp.

“ I’m a knight! I have to protect the kingdom! ” he declared, oblivious to you warning.

“ Deuce, I mean it— ”

Before you could finish, the lamp toppled over, shattering on the floor.

You sighed, pinching the bridge of you nose. “ Deuce! What did I just say? ”

His face crumpled, anger and guilt warring within him. “ I didn’t mean to! It’s not my fault! ”

“ Deuce, calm down— ”

“ I’m not a bad kid!! ” he yelled, tears streaming down his face. He lashed out, kicking at the shards of glass in frustration.

“ Stop! ” You shouted, grabbing his arm to pull him back.

But in his flurry of emotions, Deuce twisted away from you grip, flinging his arm out and that’s when it happened.

The sharp edge of a broken shard sliced through the air, catching you across you neck.

Your eyes widened in shock as you stumbled backward, your hands instinctively flying to you throat. Blood seeped through you fingers, dark and warm.

Deuce froze, his anger evaporating in an instant. “ y/n..? ” he whispered, his voice trembling.

You sank to the floor, you vision blurring. “ It’s...okay, Deuce... ” you managed to choke out, though you voice was barely audible.

“ No! No, no, no! ” He dropped to his knees beside you, frantically trying to stop the bleeding with his small hands. “ I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to hurt you! Please don’t go! ”

The minutes stretched into eternity as Deuce sobbed beside you lifeless body. His hands were stained with you blood, and his mind raced with a thousand regrets.

“ I didn’t mean to... ” he kept repeating, rocking back and forth. “ I didn’t mean to hurt you... ”

The house felt unbearably silent without you presence. Deuce wandered from room to room, clutching the wildflowers he’d given you days ago. They were wilted now, their petals falling apart, but he couldn’t bear to let them go.

He replayed their last conversation over and over in his mind. If only he had listened. If only he had controlled his temper. If only...

One evening, Deuce sat at the dining table, staring at a crumpled piece of paper. It was one of the notes he’d written for you, a simple “ I’m sorry... ” scribbled in childish handwriting.

“ I’ll be better. ” he whispered, as though she could still hear him. “ I’ll be good...I promise.. ”

He placed the note on you empty chair, along with the last flower from the bouquet.

“ I’m sorry, y/n.. ” he said softly, tears streaming down his face. “ I’ll never forget you.. ”

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere deuce spade #Yandere Deuce #au doll

60 notes · View notes

wings-of-ink · 2 months ago

Text

Update Progress and Things to Look Forward to

Hello everyone! I hope you are safe and well.

Chapter 5 is coming right along. My goal is to still have it out by the end of November, but the way the last couple of weeks have been for me, we might hit a little delay into the first week of December.

And do not worry, because I know some of you will, I'm good. It's just been busy this month. I've had a friend going through a hard time who's needed a hand up, and I've also needed to work overtime at my daytime gig. My friend is doing better now and I won't need to do more overtime again until sometime in mid-December.

I will not say that the chapter will for sure be delayed, though. This coming week I have extra time off from work (and there was much rejoicing), and I am hoping to dedicate more of it to finishing the final segments of the chapter. And then, I just have to fuse all the individual segments together and do as much proofreading as I can before I deem it "good enough for now" and publish it.

This chapter is a big one, lol. But, I didn't want to cut it short since it is an important section where you learn a lot, grow a bit, and connect with your crew (and maaaaaybe get into some big trouble).

I still have a couple short scenes to flesh out, and then a bigger finale, which I am so excited to finally write!

I'll go ahead and note that saves will almost definitely be broken - again. I had a few things that I did not anticipate before and had to make some coding changes for the earlier chapters. On the plus side, I also figured out where I went wrong with the fonts, so that should be fixed at least.

I will be opening up the Patreon with the release of Chapter 5 if anyone is interested! We'll start out with a couple tiers and grow from there. Both main tiers will focus on extras and early chapter releases - so expect POVs, drabbles, and spicy things.

In December, I'd like to release a couple extras both publically and in the Patreon, but I won't spoil any of that now so I can tease you with it later.

In the more distant future, I plan to create a way to skip chapters so you don't need to speedrun to get to new content. I will take more time to get Chapter 6 out so I can fine-tune a few things for all the previous chapters as well. I'm hoping to get them more smoothed out with a good deal of copyediting.

Reaction-style asks are still paused, but if you have general questions/recommendations/comments, send them my way!

There are many adventures ahead, my friends!

Take care, everyone! Stay safe! ^_^

As a treat, there's a semi-spoilery (kinda not really???) sneak peek below!

Hmmm...who are you with and why is your friend watching you so close???

#god cursed if #twine if #if wip #twine wip #interactive novel #if game #interactive fiction #progress update

125 notes · View notes

siolixz · 3 months ago

Text

~ Veils of Crimson ~

Chapter 2

Pairings: oz cobb x reader (Carmine Falcone's daughter)

Reader is the daughter of Carmine Falcone and upon her late father's demise, she is obligated to return home after 5 years to face her past. I edited some things, like Sofia being in Arkham only 5 years instead of 10. Hopefully y'all like it, again no smut, remember, good things come to those who wait (not for too long bcs im obsessed with writing about this man ughbhghgy)

Again, I took my inspo from Driving Miss Falcone by (https://www.tumblr.com/genevievedarcygranger here on tumblr), check out the story if you can.

Enjoy, give feeback if u want xoxo.

Warnings: mature language, smut (not in this chapter sorry AGAIN), general horniness.

“I wanted to tell you that tomorrow night I will be unavailable from 4 PM to 7 PM; your sister has requested me.”

Sofia was a very kind person; that much you knew. Your sister rarely did anything to hurt you or anyone else for that matter. So why on earth would she take Oz away for a few hours? Was she planning on telling him about your feelings? She wouldn’t. Maybe your smartass remarks finally caught up to her, maybe she wanted to teach you a lesson.

No, it’s okay, you’re going to be okay. Oz is a trustworthy guy, someone your dad depends on to take care of one of his most special treasures: you.

“Why?” you asked. You didn’t mean to make it sound so sharp; you weren’t mad, really, just curious.

“I’m sorry, but she said I couldn’t tell anyone.” He kept his eyes on the road ahead but glanced at you in the rearview mirror; his gaze was soft.

“Okay, if that’s what she said, it seems I’ll have to ask her.” You hated things not going your way, especially if Oz was hiding things from you. You two were supposed to be close, even if you were acting like a spoiled brat right now. If any other member of the staff had acted like this with you- it would have been a different story.

The next day, from morning until late evening, you tried to shake the uneasy feeling that your sister was gone to do something she was not supposed to. Either way, it was something very important. When you asked her, she quickly said it was none of your business and that you shouldn’t worry; she would get your driver back as soon as possible.

Something was definitely up. She took Oz with her when she had two other drivers. Maybe it was because Oz was intimidating; that huge scar on his face couldn’t have appeared there because he was a nice guy, and he wasn’t going to hesitate if push came to shove.

Tomorrow was your dad’s birthday party, and you had the most beautiful dress prepared: a gorgeous, short, white dress paired with the most stunning custom-made Louboutin heels, also white—a gift from your dad on your 18th birthday.

You knew tomorrow was going to be full of remarks like, “Oh my God, I haven’t seen you in SUCH a long time!” “I cradled you when you were just a widdle baby!” “How beautiful you have become!” Being the center of attention wasn’t so bad now; I mean, you were the baby of the family, and everyone doted on you.

The Falcone mansion was a very, very big house, full of rooms and bathrooms, and it was sometimes hard to figure out who came and went. As you rested on your family sofa in the living room, waiting to be welcomed in by your father in his office, you heard those familiar footsteps you knew so well.

It was hard not to know who he was; that leg of his became harder to move late in the evening. You discovered this by literally dragging him with you into every shop that piqued your curiosity. From early afternoon until late evening, you were on the “prowl,” as your sister liked to say at family dinners—from meeting the daughter of X and Y in I-don’t-know-what shop to trying on a multitude of dresses, shoes, and accessories. He never told you, but you were sure it hurt him as well; still, Oz never showed any signs of discomfort or pain. He was always ready with a smile or a funny remark.

When you saw him, he had his jacket removed, and you noticed the way his belly pushed against his dress shirt. A few buttons were undone at the upper part of his torso, giving you a full look at the hair there. His tie was gone as well. You knew his shift was done; clearly, Sofia had dismissed him.

You immediately jumped off the sofa and went to say hi to him. He was clearly surprised to see you, especially in your pajamas. You also forgot about the attitude you were supposed to have. What was all that about anyway?

“Hi Oz, what are you doing here?”

He said he wanted to talk to your dad. What was up with all this secrecy? Did they think you were too stupid or naive to have a say or an opinion? When you asked what it was about, he said it was just some business stuff, nothing too important. You two could talk outside if you wanted; he wasn’t allowed inside the house after all.

“Okay, whatever.” It was hard not to get annoyed at both of them. You hadn’t even seen or talked to your sister. Did she even come home?

He must have been in there for about thirty minutes, but finally, he came out. Outside, he lit a cigarette and asked if you were cold, he could get you his jacket-forever the gentleman. You said no, the last thing you wanted to do was push him like that. You asked again about your sister and he didn’t want to tell you, again, saying it wasn’t right to your sister. Ok, now you really had to find out and with your heart beating a thousand beats per minute, you got even closer to him. The smell of his cologne, the one he always wore, left a trail wherever he went—a sort of flamboyance he allowed himself- the only one he was allowed in the chains of his current position. The smell of the cigarette mixed with it wasn’t the most pleasant, but whatever; it smelled like him.

“Please, Oz, I just want to know. Everyone always keeps me in the dark. You’re my friend—well, I consider you my friend—just tell me. Don’t be like the rest of them because you aren’t.” You looked at him with the most pained expression you could muster at that hour, your voice breaking-low enough to be a whisper

“Doll, I—listen—” he started.

“Please, Oz, you're my driver, and you’re supposed to be by my side. I was kind to you; I always told you everything. I made sure my dad gave you all those bonuses for walking around with me.” You paused. “Please?” He looked at you like you were in hospice before saying:

“Okay, Jesus, um, your sister went to a journalist, that lady who came after her when you were off sulking in the car. She met up with her today—”

“What?” you interjected.

He inhaled deeply before continuing, “Something about your dad and some hookers at the club. Apparently, they died or something. Your sister was interested in whatever that woman had to say, nothing more.”

“Oh—”

“Oh, exactly. Now don’t go telling your brother or something—”

“Dad has hookers at the club?”

He looked at you, dumbfounded. “Y-yeah, I guess. Anyway, it is nothing you should concern yourself with, ya know?” You didn’t respond, lost in thought. How could she have been so stupid?

“Hey, hey—” he lowered his head to catch your big eyes, so full of things to say, a million thoughts running behind them. “Look at me. It’s going to be okay. Where do you want to go tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” you said.

“C’mon, you gotta think about something. Until your dad’s birthday in the evening, we gotta go somewhere. There’s this new restaurant that opened up; I heard only good things about it—” How could she have been so careless? “Something with C—ugh, I can’t remember right now.”

“Okay, tomorrow we go. You have a nice night, Oz,” you said. “Take care of yourself.”

“Alright, you too. Sleep tight,” he said, a bit surprised at your quick dismissal of him. You knew that, but you had to think.

This was huge, like actually huge. If your dad found ou—Why was Oz visiting your dad?

The birthday party was the same as every year: all the family got together to have material for gossip later on in the day and hate each other just as much as they did when they were away. You never went with Oz to that restaurant because, frankly speaking, you were scared shitless. Your dad loved you and your siblings you knew that, in his own way, and he would never endanger any of you.

When your dad called Sofia into his office and she got all excited to give him his birthday present, you never would have thought in a million years that the night would end with her being picked up by the police. Alberto called you in a frenzy that night, his voice shaking with anger. You knew—your dad let this happen. This arrest was made on his grounds, on his territory—why? How?

When you visited your sweet sister, everyone still believed she was going to go home. This was just Dad’s way of scaring her, maybe to teach her a lesson—the most important one he had been repeating all your lives: DO NOT SPEAK TO THE PRESS.

Her lawyer was very, very expensive, and yet not even she could save her. You thought she was going to jail. No, she was going to Arkham for six months until she would be judged. Based on the false accusations that she hanged those sex workers at your dad’s club. What? Now that was actual insanity. She started yelling that Dad set her up, that he killed all those women—he killed their mom too. This was a lot to process. Your heart was beating out of your chest seeing the person who you thought was the most calm and collected person freak out, and rightfully so, because police officers took her away in like five minutes.

It all happened too fast, way too fast for this to be okay.

What sort of judge allows this to happen?

You knew it was his fault. He did this. Upon arriving back home, you were a wreck. How could you look your dad in the eye again?

One thing you knew for sure: you never wanted to see Oz again.

And your wish came true! Because your darling sweet daddy sent you far, far away, abroad, because he didn’t want to deal with you either, you presumed. He sent you to France, where a large part of your mom’s family lived.

You never learned French, but now was apparently the time. Your aunt and uncle lived quite well over there and even if they didn’t really keep in touch with you over the years, they accepted you with open arms. They had a large villa in the south, a pool outside, the beach was one hour away, two dogs that would run around and make your days better.

But how could your days be good when your sister was in a looney bin, thrown in there like a rag, used and discarded? Your days were spent calling Alberto, asking about Sofia. You made sure he told her you loved her, that you asked about her, and that you two were going to get her out of there. Every year, Al told you she started losing herself more and more each day.

Oz, on the other hand, apparently thought he was a big man now; he ran the Iceberg Lounge, a funny name association, given that he hated being called “Penguin.” You knew he asked about you too, but Alberto said he told him to fuck off every time.

You weren’t allowed to go back home, at least that’s what you understood from your dad. He said you and your sister both lost yourselves a bit, maybe the money and the fame got to your head and that it was best you stayed there; the weather would do you wonders.

On the bright side, it had been five long years, and Alberto said he was 100% sure he was going to get Sofia out of that shithole, finally.

And when you thought that things were finally looking up for you, everything was going to be okay after such a long time of everything being shit—your dad died.

Your ears started ringing, like a train was passing in your head, when Alberto yelled out that he was gone over the phone. Your knees felt weak, like someone had transformed them into play-doh. I need to get home now.

Your dad wasn’t even cold in the grave when Alberto went AWOL—gone, no word from him since yesterday evening. Both you and Sofia were worried. Where was he?

You knew Oz was called to the house that day after your brother stopped responding to your texts. You could hear that loud voice of his, muffled but still loud enough to hear everything they said.

You hadn’t been here for quite some time—five years. Still, nothing changed. Sofia’s uncle Johnny and Milos filled your brother’s spot while he was gone; however, when he comes back-he’s going to be the boss, that's for sure.

Women weren’t allowed inside when the men were planning and talking business, but you weren’t inside. Plus, it wasn’t your fault Oz had a voice loud enough to hear from down the hall. Oz. Oz’s voice. Your heart skipped a beat whenever he spoke. This stupid attraction—you hoped in the years that passed it would go away, but apparently, it had not. In fact, it seemed to have grown alongside you. Maybe now he could have more courage; maybe this newly acquired upgrade made him the man you only saw glimpses of. You were a grown woman; surely now he had no reservations about you. Surely.

You didn't even hear your sister walk by with her bodyguards near your spot, attached to the door, too busy in your daydream.

“Am I interrupting you?” she asked, making you jump and curse under your breath. Her manner of speaking changed; so did her walk, her style, and her hair. But you knew the love you guys had for one another hadn’t changed.

“Fuck, Sofia, why are you sneaking up on me like that?” you whispered.

“Can you please move? I want to go inside,” she said, smiling, but the smile never reached her eyes. You moved, and the doors were opened.

“—in fact, it’s big. It has the potential to revolutionize the drug business,” you heard from inside. Huh? Is he referring to Al's plan?How does he know what Alberto wanted to do? You didn’t even know the whole story—of course you didn’t.

You decided to leave. You didn’t want Oz to see you, and you didn’t want to see him either. What was wrong with you?

On your way out, passing the exit, you saw this gorgeous purple car. Now there was only ONE man you knew who could possess something as flashy and in-your-face as a purple fucking car.

It wasn’t Milos, by the way. Then you heard his footsteps, and they were coming-fast, like really fucking fast.

Shit, okay, I’m leaving—go up the stairs now. Before you could hide yourself in one of the upper rooms, you heard Sofia yell out your name.

“Oz, you remember my little sister, right? She had such a fondness for you and you of her, from what I remember. You two haven’t seen each other for such a long time.” Okay, you couldn’t hide, so just put on a brave face and go say hi. “Hi, Oz, you ruined my life, but don’t worry, I would still ride you.” You wished you were back in Europe.

Turning the corner was the easy part; looking at him was the hard part. He looked different, yes—but still the same. His clothing had definitely changed; his black suit was now replaced with a purple one, like the car. Jesus. While you descended the staircase in your short flowery dress, it felt like your date was waiting for you downstairs to take you to prom. Those seven seconds you spent getting down the staircase felt like seven hours. Please, ground, swallow me whole now.

Once you got down and saw him again for the first time in five years, up close, he looked somehow more handsome. His scar was more pronounced, yes, but it added to his allure. Oh God, he’s smiling. Not only did he have a purple car and a purple suit, but this man had golden teeth as well. On a lighter note, he smelled like cologne, cigarettes, and aftershave—just like you remembered him smelling. Oh, that brings you back.

“Hi, Oz,” you said, smiling ear to ear.

He looked you up and down, still smiling. “Wow, you’re just as gorgeous as I remember.”

#oz cobb x reader #the penguin x reader #oz cobb #the penguin #the penguin hbo #the penguin tv #oswald cobb x reader #oz cobblepot #oswald cobb

78 notes · View notes

sissylittlefeather · 11 months ago

Text

Role Play Part 5: Something Borrowed

A/N: Well, shit. I accidentally finished this series. If you're a writer, you understand how sometimes these stories just write themselves. If you don't write, let me just tell you sometimes it really feels like I am just a pen for words with a life of their own. So, this chapter wrote itself and ended the series. Will there be an epilogue? Oh yeah. But please enjoy the end of this series. It's been a labor of love.

Need to catch up? Here is my Masterlist

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, angst

Word count: ~3.2k

In the morning, Elvis wakes up before you. That's strange, because he rarely wakes up before the afternoon, but he seems to sleep better with you there. At first, he lays there holding you, listening to the even pattern of your breathing. He knows he has to tell you to go home today, but the prospect of doing so is not a pleasant one. He slides out from under you and goes to the bathroom and gets a glass of water. When he comes back, you're still asleep, naked, laying on your stomach with your hair spread out across your back and the pillow. You look so peaceful and angelic in your sleep. For a second, he considers pulling out his camera and taking some photos of you. This is the image he'd like to keep, that he wakes up every morning thinking about. Your eyelashes flutter and he sets the glass of water on the nightstand, slipping back into the bed beside you.

You feel his hand on your back as he strokes your hair and it makes you shiver. Groaning and stretching, you scoot over close to him and put your arms around his waist. You feel him kiss the top of your head and linger there, inhaling your scent.

He's trying to figure out how to tell you to leave when all he wants in the world is for you to stay right there in his arms. But that's exactly why you need to go. He'll tell you when you're more awake. It would just be cruel to do it while you're still half asleep.

After a few more minutes you sit up and yawn. You kiss his shoulder and roll over him out of the bed to go to the bathroom. He watches your hips sway as you walk away from him and before he knows it, he's fully erect. That's when he hears the shower start. You come out of the bathroom and he looks you up and down all the way to your perfectly painted toenails.

"Thought I'd hop in the shower. You want to join me?" You say it seductively and do a little shimmy to tempt him. His cock is so hard it hurts, so it's impossible not to notice when he stands up. "Mmm. Good morning, soldier. You comin'?"

He growls and wraps himself around you as you turn to walk back to the bathroom, whispering in your ear.

"Not yet, but I bet I will be soon." You giggle and the sound fills the room in a way that makes his heart swell. As you tumble into the shower together, he decides he can tell you to go home after this is finished. One last time won't hurt.

In the shower, you fall into each other easily and it's all mouths and hands and moans and whimpers as he slides in and out of you, your wet skin hot against his. He starts out behind you with your hands against the shower wall as he holds your hips with both of his. Then, he turns you and picks you up, pressing your back against the wall and fucking into you with every ounce of his power. The steamy smell of sex fills the bathroom and you both get louder and louder as you approach your climax together. The water runs down both of your bodies and mixes with your sweat, your hair sticking to your forehead and shoulders.

"Oh, fuck, YES!" He finally yells as he slams into you one last time and fills you with his warmth. You can't make any noises as your orgasm pounds you and you lose hearing in your left ear. All you can do is hold onto him and shake as he kisses your neck and cheeks and mouth. Slowly, he sets you back down, but your legs are so wobbly that he switches the shower to a bath and sits down with you, situating himself behind you so that you're leaning against his chest.

"Are you okay, honey?"

"Mmm yeah, I'm better than okay. That was amazing."

"Yeah, it was." He tries to get up the courage to ask you to leave after the bath, but he just can't. Maybe he'll let himself enjoy this day with you and you can leave tonight.

******

You spend the next half hour or so in the bathtub together just talking and cuddling until the water isn't warm and your skin starts to prune. Finally, you get out and get dressed. He watches as you put on makeup and fix your hair. Every detail of you is interesting to him and he wants to memorize your every move.

You make your way to the kitchen together and eat some sandwiches before he takes you to show you around the house. He makes sure you get a taste of what each room has to offer: a game of pool, some TV, the piano, and he even lets you actually shoot a couple of his guns. You're out in the yard with the horses when the sun starts to set and he asks what you want for dinner.

"I can have the staff whip up pretty much anything you want."

"No. I have a better idea." The devious glint in your eye makes him nervous.

"What?"

"We're cooking."

"I can't cook!"

"Good thing I can. I'll show you. You can be my little helper." He rolls his eyes and puts his arms around you.

"Honey, are you sure?"

"It'll be fun. Come on. When have you not had fun with me?"

"That's true. Alright, we can try it." He leans in and kisses you deeply. Dinner. Then you have to go home.

******

In the kitchen, there's food everywhere as you try to make a meal out of the ingredients you found. Not surprisingly, you found stuff to make meatloaf and mashed potatoes. You also insist on sautéing some zucchini to go with it. He's not sure why you need a vegetable, but you tell him he'll eat it anyway. He peels potatoes, or tries to but he keeps dropping them in the sink and cussing, and mixes the meatloaf for you. He does not appreciate the texture of it on his hands, but for you he'll do just about anything. Luckily, you made him take his rings off before starting this process. Finally, pretty much everything is done and you're just waiting for the meatloaf to finish baking. You're at the sink doing dishes and he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you, setting his chin on your shoulder. He does this so often and it's your favorite thing.

"You look pretty doing dishes in my kitchen."

"Oh yeah? You like your women domestic?"

"I like you domestic." He kisses your cheek and your ear and down to the back of your neck. You grab a towel and dry your hands and then turn to face him. He kisses your mouth, parting your lips and sending his tongue to move against yours. With his hands on your hips, he walks you to another counter and picks you up, setting your bottom on the countertop. It's impressive how quickly he gets your pants and panties off and tossed to the side. Your hands go to the clasp on his pants and you drop them just enough to pull his cock out. He's mostly hard already and it only takes a few seconds of you stroking him with your hand to get him erect enough to push into you. You both let out a moan at the relief of him being inside you again. It feels like you'll never get enough of that sensation and he begins to slide in and out of you in a steady rhythm. He's convinced he could fuck you a million times and it still wouldn't get old. He pumps faster and faster, speeding haphazardly towards his climax, slamming into you harder and harder. He nips at your neck while he pounds you and you drag your nails down the back of his shirt. There's something very comfortable and intimate about the way he fucks you this time and it feels like you're going to keep doing it like this forever. He buries himself in you over and over again, hitting the most sensitive place inside you each time. You feel your orgasm beginning to build and you know you won't last much longer in this position. He seems to be experiencing the same thing as he grunts while he ruts into you. He looks down at the place where you connect and it nearly pushes him over the edge.

"God, baby, I could do this forever."

"I wish you would."

"Mm... mmm... baby, fuck!" His hips meet yours one last time and he cums deep inside you again. You hold him to you while you both think about what he said just seconds ago. Did he really say forever?

Just then the timer for the meatloaf goes off and you both jump. He erupts in laughter and you both stand there laughing and holding each other for another minute or so. Then, he pulls out and hands you your pants so you can get the meatloaf out. Both of you pretend to forget about what he said as you sit down to eat.

******

After dinner, he knows it is time for you to leave, but instead he offers up the idea of a movie in the TV room. You eagerly agree, completely oblivious to the fact that he's been trying to ask you to leave all day. He throws his arm around you and lets you snuggle into your place on his shoulder. Or at least, it sure feels like it's your place. The movie goes on and you laugh together and almost cry together at one part. He tells himself that as soon as it's over, he'll walk you to the door, give you a quick kiss, and be done with it.

And then he hears how evenly you breathe and notices how limp your hand is on his knee.

You're asleep.

His heart leaps and he smiles. He can't make you go home now. It would just be irresponsible to send you driving off this sleepy. Instead, he turns and scoops you into his arms. He carries you up both flights of stairs to the bedroom and lays you in the bed, sliding in next to you. He's laying behind you, so he looks down at you and watches you sleep for a bit. Then, you roll over to face him. He moves your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead.

It takes everything in him not to whisper that he loves you.

******

The next morning, you wake up first. Elvis breathes softly next to you and you run your fingertips down his nose and jawline, where the shadow of his facial hair has appeared overnight. Your heart breaks a little when you realize this is the last time you'll wake up next to him for a while. Maybe ever. It certainly feels like there's something real between you, but you can never be sure. He is still married.

You're trying to hold back tears when he stirs and groans. He puts his arm around you and pulls you in close to him and then kisses your forehead.

"Good morning, baby."

"I'm sorry I fell asleep last night. We didn't even get to do a role play."

"Are you kidding? We role played a married couple all day. You falling asleep on the couch before we could have sex was just part of the act."

You both laugh and try to ignore the implications of what he's just said. To keep it light, he doubles down.

"Now I just need you to nag me all morning and then it'll feel more real." You sit up and grab a pillow, hitting him with it gently.

"Oh yeah? That's the kind of wife you think I'd be?"

"Is there such a thing as a wife that doesn't nag? You made me eat a vegetable."

"Elvis! You little shit! It's good for you!" You hit him again with the pillow and he grabs it.

"Ahh, stop, this is exactly what I'm talking about!" He hits you with the pillow and then wrestles you down on the bed until he's on top of you. He leans in and kisses you gently.

This time he undresses you both carefully, dropping kisses onto your skin whenever he gets a chance. He takes the time to caress your body and press his lips and tongue in all the right places. Your orgasm washes over you like water and runs out to the edges of you sensually. When he pushes into you, he goes slowly so that you can feel every inch of him. He's unbearably gentle and he kisses you deeply and passionately while he slides in and out. There's nothing rushed or harsh or animalistic in the way he meets your hips with his. And he's noticeably silent, only letting a soft moan escape him here and there. When he presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes while he shudders and fills you with warmth, you realize what's happening.

He's making love to you.

And he's telling you goodbye.

When he's finished, he lays his head on your chest and you swear he's trying not to cry. You hold him and let the tears slide onto the sheets while he can't see them. He lays there for a while just trying to breathe and you finally get ahold of yourself.

"I should probably head out soon."

"Yeah, probably." He manages to drag himself up out of the bed and put some clothes on while you do the same and pack up all the things you've strewn around the room since you've been there. You do this in silence without meeting each other's eyes.

Finally, you find yourself at the door just standing in front of him and staring at your shoes. Your heart is pounding.

"You know, honey, we probably should... well... I don't know if we should..." You know what he's trying to say and if it's really the end then you have nothing to lose.

"Elvis..."

"Yeah?" He looks up at you nervously and you finally make eye contact.

"I love... being with you. But-" When you start the sentence his heart jumps into his throat, but the last half of it drops it to his stomach. Hearing you say the words might've changed his mind. But he can't be in a one-sided love affair. Not while he's still married.

"This is over." He says it with an undeniable finality that cuts through you like a knife.

"Okay. I understand."

"It's been really great. You're really great and I-"

"It's okay." You put your finger on his lips before he says something he doesn't mean. Then you turn and open the door and walk out to your car. You drive away and try not to let yourself cry. Elvis goes back in the house, picks up the closest knick knack, and throws at the wall as hard as he can.

He stands with his hands on his hips looking up at the ceiling, his flowered silk shirt sticking to his back from the sweat. You almost said it. You were so close. Do you love him? His mind races over all the times you were together: the way you breathed life into him with the cop scenario, how you laid together talking until the sun came up after the French maid, when you let him take that dirty picture of you and how you felt sleeping against his chest, and this weekend. This weekend. It's happened fast, but he's in love with you. The thought of never seeing you again, never feeling the calm that settles in him when you're around, never hearing your laugh, it's unbearable.

"Fuck it."

He grabs a set of keys and heads to the carport. He has to look to see which set he grabbed and makes his way to the Blackhawk, quickly unlocking it and sliding into the front seat.

As he drives, it starts to drizzle, but he makes his way across town quickly. Luckily, he remembers where your apartment is. When he gets to the complex, he swings into a parking space and gets out and stares at the buildings in front of him. He remembers the address, but not the apartment number.

"Goddammit." He goes from building to building trying to remember. He figures out which building it is, but doesn't know which staircase to use. Finally, he just looks up and yells at the top of his lungs.

"Y/N!!!!!"

You've been moping around the apartment for the last twenty minutes, just letting all the tears you've been holding in fall. Your hair is a mess and you probably have makeup everywhere. But it doesn't matter. Your heart is in pieces and you're about to just crawl in bed for the afternoon. That's when you hear him. You run to the window and open it. The rain is starting to come down pretty good now.

"Elvis! What are you doing here?!"

"COME DOWN HERE!"

"It's raining!"

"I'm aware! Come down here anyway!" Your heart is pounding in your chest with hope for why he's here. You run to the front door and open it. You don't even think to bring an umbrella or jacket or anything. You just walk out into the rain towards him. When you get to him, he stands in front of you breathing heavily.

"Elvis, what-?"

"I love you." It takes your breath away.

"You what?!"

"I-I-I I love you. I'm in love with you." You stand there in awe, heart stopped and breathing shallow. "And I don't even care anymore if you don't-"

"I love you, too, Elvis."

"You do?"

"Yes!! Of course I do!" He smiles and laughs, relaxing. Then, he steps forward and wraps you in his arms, capturing your lips in one of the most passionate kisses you've ever experienced. Your mouths move against each other in a rhythmic tandem that only the two of you understand. The rain continues, but you don't even notice how wet you are. There is only you and him and your love for each other. He scoops you into his arms and carries you up the stairs to your apartment, still kissing you. When you get there, he kicks the door open and carries you straight to the bedroom.

But this time you don't have sex. You strip off your wet clothes and lay naked in the bed together. No costumes, no props, no pretending. Just the two of you. You talk and laugh and kiss and the love between you grows stronger by the second. The situation around you may be complicated, but you and him together is not. You'll figure the rest of it out. You love him and he loves you. Nothing else matters.

******

The End

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @deltafalax

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis presley #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley smut #elvis presley x you #role play

118 notes · View notes

yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 1 year ago

Text

On thin ice (Hockey player! Miguel O’Hara x Figure skater! Fem! Reader)

A/N: im using one of my fav writing tropes for this chapter, so it’s gonna be a bit longer Lmaoo. the usual, not proofread so excuse grammatical errors or spelling mistakes, Miguel might be ooc.

(Y/N)- Your name, (f/c)- favorite color.

drinking/ alcohol use, mentions of sex/sexual topics (no smut, but light NSFW)

Word count: 2.1k

Series Masterlist

Chapter 5: Have you no idea that you’re in deep?

—

“You suck ass at beer pong Miguel.”

“And you suck ass.” Miguel said back to Peter with a smirk, taking a sip of his Modelo.

He sighed before tossing another white ping pong ball into the direction of a group of red solo cups, once again missing, the ball bouncing off the rim of a cup and landing on the floor instead. “Pinche- that’s it, I’m done. I’m not getting alcohol poisoning tonight.” Miguel grumbled before walking away from the table, despite Peter’s protests, and into the crowd of sweaty and drunk college students. It’s currently Saturday night and Miguel was at some random party on frat row, he couldn’t remember which frat it was. It didn’t really matter for him though, since he was on the hockey team and the captain of said team, he didn’t have to worry about getting in. Miguel was in a pretty good mood despite not having talked to you since the incident in front of the arena two weeks ago, it’s hard not to be in a good mood when they had absolutely crushed last night’s game, having won 5 to 3.

He walked without any real destination, taking another sip of his bottle, finishing it off before setting the now empty bottle onto of a random coffee table, he wasn’t drunk drunk, but his feet were stumbling a bit as he attempted to walk in a straight line. He had found himself in a random bathroom, deciding why not “reveal” himself while he was there, after handling his business, he re-zipped his jeans and fastened his belt buckle. In his drunken state, Miguel didn’t even realize he had forgotten to lock the door to the bathroom, it wasn’t until he was in the middle of washing his hands did he noticed, because he heard the noise of the doorknob turning and the door opening.

“I’ll be just a minute Kate!-“

“Someone’s in here-“

Miguel’s words took longer to process due to the tequila in your system, so your hand had already closed and locked the bathroom door and you were in the middle of turning your body to walk further into the bathroom, your body only finally stopping when you were now face to face with Miguel. Both of you falling into a silence as you stared at each other, neither one daring to move, it felt like you were almost frozen in time for hours, when, in reality it’s only been about 10 seconds. After a few seconds you blinked out of your trance like state, Miguel clearing his throat as you rub the back of your neck.

“Sorr-“ You both started at the same time again, before stopping and attempting to apologize again, only to speak at the same time once more, causing you to began to laugh at the situation. Your head tilting back, a hand going up to your chest, Miguel thought you looked like an Angel while laughing, also let out a small chuckle, but his was more awkward, suddenly aware of the fact that last time he saw you was not a good experience. Or, rather *any* of you encounters with Miguel weren’t a good experience.

“Sorry. I guess I forgot to lock the door.” Miguel says with a small (albeit embarrassed) smile, as he moves to turn the water off and dry his hands of a small dark blue hand towel that was hanging next to the sink. You quickly bring your hand up and dismiss his apology with a wave.

“No-no it’s okay! It’s not a big deal.” You tried to assure him, a small chuckle leaving your lips, Miguel couldn’t tell if the slight blush on your face was from the alcohol you’ve been downing or from the situation. “ Did you need me to leave or…” your question trailed off.

Miguel caught your drift and quickly shook his head. “No, no I was just about done, I’ll let you… erm… yeah.” He finished with a small chuckle, feeling more relaxed seeing a way out of this somewhat awkward encounter, he mumbled a small “excuse me.” As he goes to walk past you and towards the door, you had to turn to your side so you and him could switch positions, and his hand went to lightly grab your hip in an attempt to keep him or you from falling as he squeezes past you. The sudden touch caught you off guard slightly, but you didn’t say anything about it. Not thinking much of it or the way your heart skipped a beat during it. Once he passed you, and begrudgingly let go of your hip, he goes to unlock the door and turn the bathroom doorknob, but when he went to pull the door, it wouldn’t budge. So he tried again, harder this time. Then again… and still nothing. You just watched with a confused expression, your head tilting to the side as you fiddled with the hem of your (f/c) dress. You began to shift your weight back and forth on your feet as you felt your discomfort grow from all the alcohol you drank tonight that you needed to release, your heels making a little clink with each step.

“What’s wrong?” You asked after his 3rd attempt to open the door, Miguel finally dropped his hands with a heavy sigh, turning to face you, his hand coming up to his chin before he finally replies.

“We’re stuck.”

“What?”

“The lock jammed.” He sighed as he rubbed his face with his hand.

“You’re kidding…” you groaned as you moved pass him again and wiggled the door in an attempt to get it to open, but you quickly realized it was, in fact, jammed. “Ugh, fuck. Kate has my phone…” you whined as you turned your back and leaned against the door, as you look up at Miguel.

He lets out a sigh, and dropped his hands down to his jean pockets, “it’s alright, I’ll call Peter.” He said before finding which pocket his phone in, going to turn it on, only to realize it was dead, “or not…” he grumbled as he drops his hand with his phone back to his side, while the free one runs through his slicked back hair, a heavy sigh leaving his lips.

“So we’re stuck in here?” You asked in disbelief, but before he could answer you had turn back to face the door and begain to bang on the door in hopes that someone will hear you. “HELLO?! IS SOMEONE THERE!? WERE STUCK IN HERE!!” Miguel quickly pulled you away from the door.

“Woah, woah Princesa, you’re gonna break down the door, calm down, I’m sure someone will notice we’re gone, or someone will try and come use the bathroom and will get help.” Miguel said in a calm manner as he tried to calm you down, you just took a deep breath and nodded your head. Moving past him so he was closer to the door again.

After a few moments of silence, you spoke once more. “Miguel?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you do me a favor…”

“Sure ice princess.”

“Can you… turn around and cover your ears?”

He gave you a puzzled look, “…why?”

“…erm… I have to pee still…”

—

At first, you two sat in awkward silence, you sat on the edge of the bathroom sink, while Miguel sits on the edge of the bathtub across from you, avoiding eye contact, and the silent only being broken from the occasional clearing of the throat or the shuffling of clothes as one of you two would shift your sitting positions, until you suddenly spoke up, your eyes lighting up slightly. “Hey Miguel,” you say with a smile, before digging your hand in between your cleavage of your dress, Miguel looked away to hid his light blush that was beginning to spread on his cheeks. “want a shot?” You asked with a smirk, before pulling out two small mini bottles of Patron silver that you had hiding in your dress, putting your hand out offering him one.

Miguel just looked at you with a raised brow for a second, before shrugging his shoulder, “fuck it… why not.” He mirrored your smirk as he takes one of the bottles from your hand. Once he grabs it, you pull your hand back, both of you opening the mini bottles, giving each other a “salute” as you both tap the bottles together before downing the shots. Your face cringes slightly as the burning sensation goes down your throat, wishing you had a lime to help.

—

“Okay..okay…” you say after getting your self to stop giggling, “would you rather… erm… oh! I know! Would you rather have to only play hockey in your Pjs for the rest of the season, or walk in on Peter and MJ making out?” You asked with a smile as you rest your elbows on your knees, and your chin in the palm of you hands.

“Well… considering I only sleep in my briefs, and I’ve already walked in on them making out, I guess I would be okay having to do it again.” Miguel replied with a chuckle as he looks up at you from your place on the sink. This was the most you two have gotten along without bickering, and it was odd but also… nice?

“Okay your turn.” You say to him, as your swung your feet a bit, your heels lightly hitting the cabinet underneath the sink.

“Okay, um… would you rather, get back with your ex, or tell the last person you’ve had a sexual dream about, that you had a wet dream about them?” He asked with a small smirk, and the question made you freeze up a bit. Why? Well… because unfortunately, that person was the one that was 5 feet away from you, that same person who you were locked in a bathroom with, that person… was Miguel O’Hara. It’s not like you had that dream on purpose, and it’s not like you didn’t enjoy it, but you wouldn’t admit it, it was simply a dream, it had no meaning behind it. It wasn’t like you actually wanted to know what it would be like to be underneath the hockey player, it wasn’t like you actually wanted to see how quickly he could break and tear you down to nothing but a shaking sobbing mess. Nothing but incoherent babbles and whines leaving your mouth, tears of pleasure streaming down your face as you begged for more, begged for more of him, “more Miguel! Ple-please… I-I need you so bad- I need your-“

“(Y/N)?” Miguel’s voice quickly snapped you back into reality, giving you a questionable look, you quickly clear your throat, ignoring the heat rising to your face and the slight ache that forms between your thighs, before speaking.

“Erm… can’t I say neither ?” You asked, your shoulders going up in a slight shrug. Miguel quickly shook his head and stood up, taking a small step towards you.

“Nope, you gotta pick one.” He said with a sly smirk, his arms crossing in front of his chest.

You let out a sigh, you really, really hated your ex, so you answered with a heavy sigh, “… the second one…” you mumbled as you looked away to avoid eye contact. The sudden shift of your behavior didn’t go unnoticed by Miguel, he takes another step towards you, now just a few inches right infront of you, if he takes just one more step, you would have to separate your legs to make room for him.

“What’s wrong ice princess?” He asked in a low, almost teasing tone, as he brings his hand up to gently cup your cheek, before moving your face back to look at him, your face began to feel fleshed from the sudden intimate move. Your eyes widened slightly as you look up at Miguel, his eyes were half-lidded, and they’re was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite make out. “Got something you needa get off your chest…” he mumbled in the same low tone as he leans in a bit, your breath hitches and your heart rate increases as you were now nose to nose.

“Miguel…” you said bearly above a whisper, you weren’t sure what you were even going to say.

“Yes?”

“What…” you trailed off again when you start to feel his hot breath began to fan your lips, if he just moved a little bit closer-

“Miguel! (Y/N!)” Peter’s shouts through the door quickly make Miguel pull away from you, pulling away just in time before the bathroom door opens, being faced with Peter and your dorm mate Kate. Luckily, Miguel took enough steps back so you two weren’t in a suspicious position.

“Jesus. Finally.” You mumbled before hopping off the counter, pushing past Peter and grabbing Kate’s hand, dragging her out of the frat house, back to your dorm and far away from Miguel.

—

Taglist: @tayleighuh @cowboylikeevie @coralineyouareinterribledanger @jukioku @loser-alert @migueloharaspookiebear @serpentstarr @littlexscarletxwitch

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o hara fanfic #on thin ice fanfic #astv miguel #astv spiderman 2099 #figure skating au #hockey au #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #astv #miguel o’hara au #spiderman 2099 fanfic #spiderman 2099

206 notes · View notes

lexluvswriting · 8 months ago

Text

ꔫ L'autunno.

ꔫ Ch: 4 [last page] [next page]

-> Pairing: Eris x ballet dancer!fem!reader.

-> (CW): x fem!reader (she/her), slow-burn, rivals to lovers, tinkle of angst on occasion, fluff, non-specified identity Summer Court!reader, regarding canon ACOTAR time: after defeat of Hybern. things get get cheeky... teehee.

-> (TW): Allusions to domestic violence/abuse (L.O.A + Beron), eris has trauma flashbacks, sexual tension? maybe? someone read it and tell me pls. eris practically pining for reader but simultaneously pissing her off, reader x eris finally kiss, raahh!!

W/C: 3.5k

╰┈➤ Lex's note: UHM... guys... please ignore that i last posted in April or something... double degrees are not for the weak 😔✊OOH! ALSO: you two share a kiss- :O -and reader likes it >:D did I pull an all-nighter for this chapter, AND almost finish up to chapter six in one night? ... yes. do i also have an important exam in 5 hours? ... also yes. i couldn't help myself- I missed writing, okay?! anyway, pls pls pls, don't be afraid to comment & let me know what you liked, disliked or loved!!

You had both sat on the ledge of the ampitheatre, taking in the peaceful quiet, enjoying the nature that surrounded you both before you huffed softly at how ‘casual’ the setting was. A pretty patterned rug was laid out to be sat on, with porcelain cups, dishes, and all sorts of rich, fancy-fae delicacies: tea cakes of different shapes, flavours and colours; neatly cut sandwiches with different pastes, spices and fillings.

“Where’s your little throne?”

You nodded, not waiting for him before picking a sandwich to take a bite of- your stomach fluttering when you didn’t taste poison, but rather a delightful taste combination. He grinned slyly and clicked his tongue, feigning disappointment as he poured you and himself tea that smelt like bergamot and honey.

“Would have been too big for my servants to winnow, I’m afraid.”

His tone was airy and snobbish- as if he had read your mind, thus playing along to the tune of your harsh assumptions- so you rolled your eyes, food pushed into the side of your mouth to mumble out, “Figured you would have used some of them as footstools and makeshift seats instead.”

Eris huffed, before thinking over the weight of your snark which drew a chuckle that dissolved into a soft laugh of disbelief. You ignored the way the sound made your insides flutter- or perhaps that was just organ failure. He looked at you incredulously, shaking his auburn covered head as he filled your plate, then his.

“Is that what you truly think of me?”

You continued to chew, your face expressive enough to fill the silence, which made him chuckle more.

“I certainly have underestimated you, little swan,” You grumbled at the ‘feigned’ endearment, but it didn’t deter him, “You are not merely a pretty face at all. You also possess a delightful, deadly fire. Now, whether it makes you stupidly brave, or bravely stupid, I’m not sure. Even worse, I’m not sure if that intrigues me, or irritates me.” He hummed, and it seemed to stoke ‘said fire’ within you- your own pride being stroked, so you gave him a bemused half-smirk,

“Why not both?”

He raised an eyebrow at your rather coy tone, and you almost thought you liked that ‘slightly startled, slightly intrigued’ look he wore, before you remembered what he was- who he was- and looked away disinterestedly. But you knew him; or at least, knew he was trained in the arts of charming females as if it was as easy as breathing. Something in your gut told you he liked those that played ‘hard-to-get’ and the feelings that festered and stewed made you confused. Again, as if he was reading your mind, he answered accordingly:

“Almost sounds like you’re flirting with me, darling.” His serve. So the match starts.

A scoff, accompanied by a simple shake of your head. “Spare me. Just how exactly have you made it this far in life, lordling?” A simple hit back into his court.

“Is that admiration I hear?” A lazy return.

“You wish it was.” Shaking your head as you sipped the sweet, citrusy tea he poured. A back-hand swing with a bit of force.

“I do, actually. If it means you’ll stop being so shrewd.” Parried back wonderfully, much to your dismay.

“Is this how you usually find ladies to court? By acting like an arse.” You ask flatly, and he pauses. Victory.

You smirk, glancing down at the tea cup, before the silence goes on for too long. Your lips tug into a frown, but you don’t look up. Is he angry? Something tugs at your stomach, then your chest, and you finally look back up at him, only to catch him staring at you with an expression you didn’t recognise. You straightened- almost angry at yourself for feeling nervous. But you didn’t know him. Didn’t know his moods, his temperaments. Didn’t know what he did in his spare time.

The lordling seemed to sense your fidgeting and looked away; out towards the view of the sprawling Autumn colours that dotted the trees on the horizon.

“... So… what brought you to the Autumn Court?”

You blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow, before remembering you had told him you weren’t from here.

“Apparently, as a baby, I was dropped off at an orphanage near the place I live now, with some sort of Summer Court emblem and a scarf. However, I’ve got no ties, no leads to any family that I know of, and I haven’t sought them out either.” He watched you as you spoke, and before you could comment or add more, he beat you to it.

“How miserable.”

You flinched before stilling, blinking repeatedly at him. How… miserable?

Disbelief contorted your face as you looked at him like he had grown three heads. Did he just-?

Eris simply watched you, tilting his head slightly, his russet eyes meeting yours in a stare that wasn’t hostile; rather, it was him trying to figure you out like some sort of puzzle. However, his random response had caught you off guard, making you chuckle softly, before you covered your mouth quickly, only to hold your head in your hands as you began to genuinely laugh.

“Have I misspoke?”

You laughed more at his polite yet confused tone, shaking your head as you tried to control yourself, only to laugh more, which spurred a few chuckles from the male sitting across from you.

“Hold on- I only meant it in the sense that-”

“No, no!” You forced out as you gasped for air, trying to reign in your amusement as you watched him watch you again, with him seeming oddly… content with how you laughed at him.

“I… I get it. Honestly, Eris- Sorry… ‘Lord’ Eris-” He rolled his eyes, waving a hand as you continued,

“How in the Cauldron did you make it this far in life?” You chuckled again, while he flashed a strangely sweet, cheeky smile. It was almost endearing. Almost.

“Would you believe me if I said ‘through uncanny wit and dazzling charm?’” His dryness made you snicker, before a small smile grew on your face. He hummed as you did so, looking down at his hand while you caught yourself staring again; both of you sitting in the silence as you briefly self-reflected. Why was he being funny? Why could he make you laugh simply… simply by being himself?Why was it so easy to get lost in staring at him? You continued to watch him- not knowing how intensely your eyes twinkled, nor the way it made his blood heat in a way that surprised him. Yet, he caught you, finally.

“[Y/N] darling, if you keep staring at me like that, it might put ideas in my head.” He mused, and you jerked your head away instantly, hearing him snicker as you rolled your eyes.

“Why won’t you let yourself enjoy today, little swan?” He teased, but your response wasn’t as light.

“If I do, it will mean that I am as easy, and as useless as all the others that you manage to bewitch. I simply won’t let that happen.” You replied hollowly, a small part of you not even believing your own answer. Eris sucked his tooth, watching you with a nod as if you had said something truly confounding, before he clicked his tongue and stood up.

“Alright. Let’s walk.” Eris nodded at you, before offering a hand with a sly smile, waiting for you to move. You blinked up at him, raising an eyebrow before deciding to take his hand- unlike the carriage, where he practically lifted you like it was nothing- pulling yourself up.

What the hell would a walk do?

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“Tell me honestly, swan. Why do you dislike me- not my family- but me, so heavily?” Eris encouraged the dancer to speak freely as you both walked down the hill. He noticed the way your eyes avoided his, instead mapping out all the different shades of brown, orange and red leaves. He watched you shrug, and internally pulled at his hair. What had you so reserved?

He wanted to say something- taunt you, tease you, even trick you into speaking- but when you hesitated, looking at the ground for an answer that wouldn’t be so easily given, he shut up immediately. It was only when you tried to avoid the question that something triggered within him to reach for and grab your arm; grabbing gently, merely to pull you back to where he had stopped walking.

“Hey-” You had snapped, baring your teeth before pulling your arm away, the action making his heart race as you did so. How wonderful- when your eyes gleamed the way they did. Did you even know how beautiful you looked? When you looked at him like you wanted to throttle him? Or, what about when you had laughed so freely before, and his brain had completely blanked?

Eris sighed wistfully, determined to crack the nut that was your eccentric, explosive enigma of a mind.

“When you do things like that- acting like you just have some claim on me- I don’t like it.So when you do it often, or other things I don’t like, it makes it easier to dislike you.” You spoke succinctly, and he couldn’t argue with that. At least you answered him. Yet Eris watched you anyway, hoping you’d continue. When he stayed silent, he realised his staring made you nervous as you wiped your hands on your dress, delicate hands grabbing at the fabric to fidget as you pushed yourself to answer his initial question.

He willed his expression to be neutral as you began to speak- the words spilling from your lip like a fast flowing river. But his restraint was in vain- before he knew it, he was absolutely entranced by your thoughts and ideas. The way you spoke about your studies- the passion, the assertiveness you carried as you listed the criticisms your ‘surrogate mother Ordelia’ had helped you draft in an assignment; an ‘unsent response’ to his father’s unfair increase of land tax, and the random raids or ‘removals’ that always seemed to happen towards the end of the day, targeting certain fae of non-native identities. He had to remind himself to meet with this fae. She sounded like quite the female.

You had told Eris about the families that were getting displaced- how people were terrified to leave their homes because of these new restrictions- and his brain spun like a spinning top. You dared compare Beron’s treatment to the tyrant of a female that had held Prythian hostage for almost fifty years prior, and his nostrils flared, but he stayed silent. Did you realise what you were saying? How brave, how brilliant- how possibly stupid it was? Being so bold saying these ideas so freely? He almost felt liberated from the confines of his own mind- where, for too long, he had been too afraid to dare bring light to these thoughts of his own.

Eris didn’t dare stop you, so you continued, even scolding Eris himself on his ‘petty blackmail’ of your ballet instructor- he decided there and then that he wanted you to criticise and chastise him like that all the time- advocating for the old studio, and the children who used it to escape poverty in their own villages, in their own homes. Unbeknownst to you, the heir seemed to fall more and more in love with every word you said. He figured it would probably be his demise if he were to compliment you on your ideas- you seemed to treat anything he said as a callous taunt, or cruel mockery. But the heir couldn’t help himself as he exhaled softly.

“Brilliant.”

He nodded, watching you intensely, before shaking his head with a scoff, looking away.

“Ballerinas are doing politics now,” And you’re somehow doing them in the way he had always dreamed of, “What a world we live in.” He would have happily sung your praises from the treetops. He was prepared to present your ideas- your works to his father and call him out on his tirade. So why was it that, when he looked back at you, you looked up at him with a mixture of hurt and disappointment?

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

“You weren’t listening to a single word, were you?” The disappointment in your voice was almost laughable. You felt bitterness coat your tongue like film as you observed the heir. There it was. That feigned incredulity, the false intrigue and interest. In his eyes, like so many other males, all you’d ever be recognised as was just a pretty little ballerina. A pretty female, with pretty eyes, hips for child-rearing, and a figure that was easy on the eyes.

“[Y/N]... You- you have just recited every single measure I have ever wanted to implement.” He had stopped walking to watch your disappointment manifest, and he shook his head again, reaching for you before hesitating as you whipped back to glare at him. Well… at least he listened to one thing.

“I don’t need your pity, lordling.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say!”

“Oh, boohoo!” You snapped, glaring up at the heir, “I know what you see in me- what your ‘expectations’ are. You want me to sit still and be pretty while I have to be subjected to this- this stupid ball with all these rich, ignorant nobles who-”

“Who couldn’t give a damn about the people who starve right outside their doors, right?” He finished your sentence- he cut you off, and you paused.

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, [Y/N]. I know what you’re thinking. I’ve thought the exact same- down to the letter, every damned day.” He grabbed you, and your eyes narrowed, ready to warn him off you when he interjected again.

“Just- listen.” He snapped, and your mouth shut, even as you glared daggers up at him, “Do you know how exhausting it is, having to carry the burdens of that bastard?” Your eyes widened.

Was this real? Where the Hell had this come from? You opened your mouth, but he put his hand over it,

“Just wait before you spit in my face, stubborn thing.” He hissed, before continuing,

“We are… The Vanserra family… it is not glorious, and- and luxurious, and absolutely ignorant.” He was hardly fluent, hesitating and restarting the sentence. It felt wrong, unnerving. This was not the pompous, cocky, ‘typical’ arrogant noble who had half of the Autumn Court’s female population vying for him. This wasn’t the smug, dominant asshole who had watched you dance, and snidely spoke to you in the hallway of your ballet studio.

No.

This was the male- the son- who had snarled at you in the carriage when you tried to slander the Lady of the Autumn Court. There- you saw it again- that vulnerability, that hollowness that hid behind his eyes every time he stood next to his father; whether it was during royal festivals or important ceremonies. The oldest Vanserra son had gone- gotten trapped in a memory; somewhere dark, somewhere hostile and hurtful. So you decided there and then, regardless of the dislike you held for him, that you’d hold him and wait.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

Sounds of fists landing hits, a cacophony of muffled crashing and banging came from behind the closed door that Eris waited at tearfully- willing his child self to march in there and defend his mother, only to be completely stuck; paralysed by fear.

Warmth came from somewhere, somewhere distant, and there was the dull echo of a voice that made his chest tighten.

--- ⋆⁺₊✧˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☾⋆⁺₊✧⋆ ---

You watched him grow distant, his eyes losing their usual gleam- not that you cared to notice, as you’d easily deny. Something made your hands move on their own, pulling his hand off your mouth so you could grab them in yours, watching him with emotions that made your stomach knot and shrivel.

“Eris?”

You called again, and he jerked- the abrupt movement making you flinch while the heir exhaled shakily. As he looked back down at you, he saw the way you held his hands, initiating contact. When he moved, you followed his gaze, unsure why you were still holding onto him. You did that, all of your own accord. You did it, yet you weren’t sure why.

Eris swallowed thickly- you even watched the way his throat bobbed, before his hands slowly, shakily cupped your face. Your eyes never left him; you didn’t move to push him away either. What had he seen? Where had he gone?

“[Y/N] [L/N].” Your heart jerked as he murmured your name- the timbre of his voice low, soul-wrenching as his russet irises bore into yours.

“I want you to meet my father. I want-... I want you to meet him, and tell him exactly what you told me.”

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head,

“No- Not on your life-”

“Please.”

Again, his lips had come close to yours, like they had in the carriage, and you felt yourself go deathly still.

“Eris?”

“Please, [Y/N].”

“Eris-”

“You’re brilliant.” The male breathed, his eyes scanning you quickly, almost anxiously, like he was afraid your attention would shift away from him. You were brilliant? He thought… he thought you were brilliant. You swallowed, eyes fluttering as you looked up at him, stare never breaking. Looking into his eyes, being so close, it felt like you were staring down at a body of water at the bottom of a cliff. Was it shallow? Were there hidden rocks- jagged, hungry for bones to shatter? Was this what leaps of faith were?

“You don’t… you don’t care.” You shook your head stubbornly, resisting the pull.

“You- You are the most brilliant fae I know-” His serve, again.

“You’ve barely known me!” A hard knockback from yourself; the ball was in his court.

“I’ve never known anyone with a mind like yours, [Y/N].” A powerful hit back into your court.

“No.” You barely hit it back in his court, so close to crumbling.

“[Y/N]-” He fumbled.

“I’m not going to make a fool of myself in front of your father, Eris. What power do I hold?” A harsh serve to start the match.

“The knowledge you carry- the way you see the world- the way you solve problems that noblemen in my father’s court have been stuck on for years-” Your eyes widened at his words- you fumbled the hit.

“Eris- No- No! It is not my responsibility to fix your father’s inadequacies!” You snapped, pushing away gently as you looked away, your mind racing. You needed to go. Your heart- your stomach- Hell, you were even feeling the slightest bit aroused! You needed to go- needed to get away to think-

His hands grabbed you again, cupping your face and tilting your head up ever-so-gently, as if he thought you were made of porcelain.

“[Y/N].” Your mind blanked when you heard the way he pleaded- pleaded!

Well… if he said your name like that…

“Eris-” Your hands reached up to his- whether to hold, or to push away, you weren’t sure yet. The Vanserra male barely gave you a chance to decide before he sealed the gap between your lips, his eyes shutting while yours widened in shock, before promptly shutting them tight.

He was kissing you. Eris Vanserra was kissing you. He thought you were brilliant, he thought you were

The kiss was… It was…

You didn’t even know. It certainly felt like he was holding back- like he was trying to be a gentleman, and a small part of you appreciated the attempt as you moved your lips against his ever-so-slightly. His tongue didn’t swipe for your lip hungrily; his teeth didn’t tug at your bottom lip; nor did his hands move from where they held your face. Your body felt like it was on fire- a primal, lonely part of your brain urging him to lead, to do something. But he pulled away after the ‘virginal’ kiss, breathing heavily, as if it pained him to pull away- to hold himself back.

You stared up at him dumbly, eyes glittering in the autumn sun as you both stared at each other in something of shock and awe. Why did it feel like your heart was caving in when he kissed you? Why did it feel like the stars had aligned when he pressed his lips against yours so gently- so out of character for him?

“What was that?” You muttered, still shell-shocked, while he turned away, almost as if he was unwell. He shook his head- ignoring your question.

“Eris?” You urged, pulling on his arm impatiently before he turned back to face you, his voice a low murmur.

“[Y/N]... I want you to meet my father.”

╰┈➤ Lex's note 2: OH GOD. okay. OKAY, I DID IT. i did it! it's done! i have posted a chapter again!! (hopefully) i can get back to my usual posting schedule!! i have 3 more exams: 12/06, 13/06 & 15/06 so i will be a lil preoccupied for at least ten days <3 again, TYSM FOR READING IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR!! <3 <3 also!! the two Loki requests are also currently being drafted as we speak!! thanks for waiting so long everyone!!

45 notes · View notes

wolves-and-stars · 4 months ago

Text

Remus in his Element: FIC REC LIST

(A list of fics where the authors dont fuck up remus lupin, the most brilliant, wonderful man to have existed.)

Okay i would like to preface this by saying that i went throught the 2014 remus lupin is a nerd era (and thats not to say he isn't, just not thr way they made him out to be) and it was the worst. So, here are some fics that give REMUS LUPIN.

1. Subtlety, Thy Name is Sirius Black by rekahneko (ffnet) 21k

Remus thinks sirius needs to be more subtle with his flirting, sirius thinks remus is full of shit. So they make a bet to see who's right. Remus has to manage to subtely get the girl (cough cough) he has a crush on to ask him out, before sirius can agree someone else to ask him out.

Remus is so self assured and comfortable with who he is and what he wants without comprimising on his affection and actual personality.

Fire fic.

2. The lad that loved you by mollymarymarie (ao3) 81k

Remus and Sirius get into a relationship, naturally the next step is to pretend they hate each other and give james a heart attack.

Remus is so sexy in this one. The final chapter is (SPOILER) so fire when he punches snape.

3. Ten reasons (to go to michigan) by greyeyedmonster18 (ao3) 59k

Remus is a newly divorced and a best selling author, unfortunatley he has nothing left to write. So, he books a flight to the upper peninsula where he grew up. He happens to meet a starnger in a coffeeshop, who happens to change his life.

There's a scene with his ex husband, where he throws down his credit card and it is such a breath of fresh air with all the pushover remus characterizations.

4. Dating Remus Lupin by children_of_the_shadows (ao3) 83k

You will never find a fic with such brilliant characterizations of all of the marauders. All 4 of them are so unique and funnily written. Sirius is so unhinged its crazy. Hes giving bimbo, but deliberate bimbo yaknow? And remus. Ohmygod remus in this fic.

He is so emo, aloof, nonchalant. And it drives sirius up the wall. Remus gives so hard in this fic.

5. Sex pistols by Artificialaorta (ffnet) 86k

Remus is the lead gutairist for belladonna a punk rock band. His character is so cool and so sauve, but irl he is not so cool and not so sauve about sirius black, lead singer for pop band the marauders.

I love fics that dont put his character down by making him someone that just gives into everything sirius and james say and do. But still manage to keep him, himself you know?

6. Stalking sirius by remuslives23

Remus is very self assured and confident in the way he acts in this. Hes a journalist that stalks sirius and happens to be the only one that gets under the mysterious mans skin.

7. Highland Fling by Picascribit (a03) 38k

Sirius goes backpacking through scotland and happens to meet a cute bartender at the pub. Except hes staright, lives in america, and set to be engaged.

Again self assured remus. No insecurity or digs at his personality.

8. This is the Life by 1electricpirate (ao3) 15k

After the war, Sirius becomes an uptight, high-ranking Ministry official; but when an old childhood friend comes unexpectedly back in his life, he learns what it is to let go and live and love once more - the question is, will Remus let him?

Love remus in this one.

9. Rumor has it by Remy_writes5 (ao3) 15k

No student had ever figured out why Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin seemed to hate each other so much, and at this point in the year the seniors were done trying. All they had time to focus on now was finals and graduation, although the annual class trip provided a welcome distraction. Three days on a lake with their four favorite teachers and plenty of time to gossip had to be a good time, right?

10. The London Underground Book of Love by Children_of_the_Shadows

The cardinal rule of the London Underground is to never, ever make eye contact. It is a rule that, among many others, Sirius tends to follow despite his otherwise rebellious, non-rule-following nature. So the first time he makes eye contact with a human being in the subway comes as much of a shock to him as anyone else. Especially when he's unable to look away.

Remus is so cute and fluffy in this.

11. Everything's Connected by mizdiz (ao3) 44k

When he's seven years old, Sirius Black has a brief encounter with a strange boy in the woods, who, in their short exchange, teaches him an important lesson about the nature of the Universe, only to then disappear without a trace.

Nine years later, Sirius, along with his two best friends, is a student away at boarding school, with a brand new transfer student as his roommmate--a foul-mouthed, astronomy nerd named Remus Lupin.

Between school, hormones, relationships, and the fact that he is keeping a (magical) secret away from everyone--Sirius' year starts to go a little off the rails.

Not to mention, there's something familiar about that Remus Lupin kid that he just can't seem to shake...

Remus lupin is magic in this one.

12. Play Dates by DeathjunkE (ao3)

Remus and Sirius are Single Parents who meet by chance and become interested in one another.

Remus is just a simple, good, kind, baker.

13. Wizard beat by eprime (ao3) 6k

Sirius is a fanboy.

14. Remus Lupin's Guide to Successful Courting by Children of the Shadows (ffnet)

Remus has lived for twenty five years now. Due to his incapability to emote or feel many complicated things at the same time, he has always maintained a straight face, his facial features sitting at an angle of approximately a hundred and seventy four point two d though he has practiced it many times before in front of the mirror, Remus has truly never smiled.

#wolfstar #remus lupin #marauders #sirius black #moony #james potter #padfoot #prongs #siriusblack #remus loves sirius #famous fic rec #fic recs #fic rec #fic ref #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic #ffnet

25 notes · View notes

hrefna-the-raven · 1 year ago

Text

Web of faith

Masterlist - BG3 masterlist

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 7

Words: 1531

Notes: the more I write and change the more this transforms into a much longer series than I initially planned it to be 😂😅

Chapter 6

You let out a piercing scream as a sensation of freefall engulfed you, your hands frantically slapping against the hard ground. Slowly, the realisation dawned upon you that you must have had just awoken from a deep slumber. Your eyes darted around, eventually settling on the strangely familiar figure of another drow beside you. Tentatively, you reached out and tapped his shoulder, prompting him to turn towards you. In that moment, you gasped in shock. The drow lifted himself up, shaking his head to dislodge the hair obscuring his face before turning towards you and lifting you off the ground. His lips parted as if to speak, but as his gaze fell upon his own hands, he took a few steps back, a look of confusion etched across his features.

"What is happening? What has befallen us?", he whimpered, nervously scratching at the now soft skin of his hands.

"Niss," you whispered, reaching out to hold his hands and giving them a gentle squeeze.

"What are we?", Kar'niss questioned, his voice trembling, "are we dead? Why are we restored? We can't be, we are cursed, we-we- I should be cursed", Kar'niss stammered, his head hurting as he tried to put the pieces together.

You surveyed your surroundings, finally taking in the sight of the pulsating orb in the distance.

"Where are you hiding?", you cried out, "I pleaded for your aid, but you remained silent. Why are you summoning me now? What have you done to Kar'niss?"

"You should have gotten rid of him", the Emperor's icy voice cut through the astral plain as he emerged from behind a rock.

"How dare you say this?!", you spat at him.

"Don't be foolish! He's too broken, to unpredictable, he will only be a hindrance to us."

"He saved me, more than once! He deserves as much of a chance as any of us."

Kneeling beside Kar'niss, who huddled on the ground, you witnessed his body rocking back and forth. His hands clung desperately to his head as he muttered unintelligibly, his pain and confusion evident.

"He tried to kill the both of you! Had I not intervened, you'd both be dead by now!", he exclaimed, his voice rising as he grasped your hand and hoisted you up, a force compelling your head to turn towards Kar'niss, "look at him! He is not what he once was."

Your eyes widened as Kar'niss reverted back into a drider, recoiling at the sight of his spider-like body, tears streaming down his face as he vehemently shook his head.

"He is an unpredictable monster now!"

"He is just Kar'niss, it will not matter how he looks now. I didn't judge you for being an ilithid, so explain to me, why would I judge him for being a drider?", you retorted, struggling to conceal the anger in your voice as you wriggled free from the Emperor's grasp.

"Fine have it your way", the Emperor sighed, "but I did warn you."

You let out a groan of pain as your eyes slowly opened, taking a moment for the blurriness to fade away, revealing an unfamiliar room. Attempting to sit up, you were immediately met with a sharp pain in your chest that kept you pinned down.

"Take it easy", Gale's soothing voice came from beside the bed, "our tentacled friend managed to save you from certain death, but he didn't deem it necessary to address your other injuries."

A comforting warmth began to seep into your body as the wizard murmured another incantation. His hand slid under your back, gently lifting you into a seated position.

"I'm relieved to see you awake", he smiled at you, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze.

"Where...", you began to ask, but Gale quickly interrupted.

"We're still at Moonrise Towers. Allow me to show you", he spoke softly as he connected his mind with yours through the tadpole.

You witnessed fleeting visions of the battle, reliving the moment Ketheric struck you. You observed Kar'niss desperately clinging to your unconscious form after his failed attempts to heal you. His cautious backward steps before taking a leap were evident. The Emperor's suspicions about him trying to eliminate both of you seemed accurate, but seeing your beloved's behaviour and tears made you see that there was more to it. It wasn't an attempt to kill both of you; rather, he was trying to end his own life, believing he had lost you forever. The thought of this caused your heart to ache. The overwhelming love that still existed between the two of you felt almost unbearable, threatening to shatter your soul into countless fragments due to the sadness it brought in these moments. However, the images from Gale's mind continued to intrude upon your thoughts, diverting your attention from the drider. You were taken aback as you caught a glimpse of the true nature of the Absolute for the first time. A colossal elderbrain, ensnared by the chosen ones of the Dead Three, one of whom was already dead. Gale severed the connection, speaking before you could utter a single word.

"It's a lot but you need to rest first before we move on to Baldur's Gate", the wizard got up and walked towards the door, "I'll call Kar'niss, if he can't see you soon, I'm afraid he'll trample us all just to get here", he chuckled as he left the room.

It didn't take much time before the door forcefully swung open and the drider squeezed through. It appeared rather amusing to witness his struggle as he tried to maneuver his tall physique through the normal sized doorframe. He hurried towards you and bend down, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace while shedding tears, burying his face against the side of your neck. You winced in pain as you attempted to gently push him away.

"Be careful, it still hurts", you gave him a warm smile.

"We-I...", his voice faltered amidst his sobs.

You tenderly caressed his cheeks and planted a kiss on his lips. Instantly, he melted into the kiss, and his sorrow permeated through as you tasted the saltiness of his tears. You felt the gentle tingling sensation of his tadpole extending towards you, and as you allowed him to enter, a surge of dread and agony threatened to overwhelm you. His shattered heart, only partially mended by the fleeting relief of your survival, remained tightly bound by the weight of guilt from nearly causing your demise.

"Niss", you you called out, planting a gentle kiss on his lips once more before meeting his gaze, "please don't believe a word the Emperor said."

"But he is right", Kar'niss replied, pulling your hands away from him and clasping them tightly, "we-I-I'm not the one I once was. All of me is broken, a mess, dangerous, in pain...", he held his breath, frightened to continue but he had to, it was important to finally confront this issue that plagued him for so long.

"No you shouldn't-"

"Please we need you to understand!", he interrupted, "we were cursed because we loved and protected you, we were abandoned because our love, by Lolth, her majesty. The monster that is us almost killed you!"

"You did not know!", your voice, full of desperate anger, filled the room and the drider cowered, instantly releasing your hands from his hold.

The drider immediately let go of your hands and backed away, slowly inching towards the door. The force behind your raised voice struck him deep in his core. All Kar'niss ever wanted was to be yours, to worship you for the evershining light you were to him and all it ever did was curse him. Now more than ever, he felt as if his entire essence was worthless, a darkness that tainted your divine beauty and soul and the cursed abandonment he had to endure was merely a punishment for his audacity to dream of being close to you. His fractured mind finally pieced the shards of his broken existence back together, revealing the full picture of his misery and its inevitable truth. As he turned around, he froze at the sight of Halsin standing in the doorway, his expression inscrutable to the tormented drider.

"I apologise for intruding, but I overheard your conversation as I walked by", the druid spoke softly, "Kar'niss was it?"

The drider nodded, glancing back at you, unsure of how to interpret the presence of the tall elf before him.

"Could you accompany me for a moment? I would like to discuss something with you", he gestured for Kar'niss to follow, swiftly entering through the door and giving you a reassuring nod.

"Don't worry, I'll bring him back unharmed", he chuckled at the concern evident on your face before leaving you alone in the room.

You hadn't known Halsin for very long, but he didn't strike you as a malevolent person. Despite his imposing stature, he exuded a certain gentleness that always managed to calm you down during your time on the road. However, a slight sense of fear began to well up within you as you couldn't fathom why he wanted to speak to your beloved alone.

Chapter 7 - drow ending

Chapter 7 - drider ending

Tags:

@orionspaperwork

@mxxny-lupin

@traumaramacenter

@dark-and-kawaii

#baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #kar'niss #karniss #bg3 kar'niss #drider #drider x reader #drider x you #kar'niss x reader #kar'niss x you #halsin #bg3 halsin #bg3 emperor

123 notes · View notes

justanotherpersonsuniverse · 5 months ago

Note

Hey Cap!!!

First section of OM observations plus commentary, chapters covered is: fox skin and changeling. Questions are numbered and in bold!

Right, finally found the time to have a sit down and do this, yippee! College has been taking up far too much space in my brain!

I’ve got a mocha, and a slice of lemon drizzle cake so I’m all set up :3

[— — —]

I’ve always really loved what you open with for OM, its both nice and straight to the point and the tone is kept light to play up the comedy that *somehow* no one has figured out just what Juleka is.

Question 1: How does glamour work in this universe? Is it a natural magic that developed as a defence mechanism from when monsters were being persecuted or was it something cast over monsters by design? Is it a different sort of glamour that protects miraculous users' identities?

I did chuckle when Juleka referred to the miraculous as “hero business she wants no part of” because a) PN being a thing, and b) Juleka is literally insanely protective and sacrificial in OM as is so she’s heroic either way, so like ha! I know what you are Juleka… mentally ill…

Oh, I do love reading and seeing the gang form, you introduce these familiar characters with unfamiliar aspects so wonderfully. The way each of them have a different intro… it’s so much fun. I do like how the reveals slow down as the story goes on but still pop up from time to time, like with Kim in later chapters.

Speaking of, I do adore how you write, like, overall plots? It’s hard to describe, but you always have a very good mix of character driven plot beats, and manage to keep the story arcs flowing. OM does have less of a clear ending point because of how it’s written but if anything it adds to the vibe of the story; teenagers being silly goofs and learning to rely on each other and discovering who they are as people.

It’s so funny how Rose kicks off the plot by casually mentioning Alya’s coat, like did she just get bored or something??

I do like how you write Juleka’s vampiric driven thoughts, they toe the line of being a bit funny and with her being self aware enough that they feel grounded. They don’t feel unnecessarily creepy or melodramatic.

Christ it’s really weird seeing Juleka interact with Marinette. I'm so used to the toxic LadyNoire yuri…

Question 2: But also. Fr. Why did Marinette react like that when asked about Alya’s jacket??

Question 3: Does Juleka also have to count things if they are thrown on the floor as another weird vampire thing after needing an invitation and being unable to cross running water? Also is Juleka burnt in the sunlight and she’s just been wearing a huge hat and been fully covered this entire time or…?

I do love Alya as a character, especially in this she has so many fun qualities which are a lot of fun to read about. They’re awkward in an adorable way in this chapter, both of them lack any tact Juleka’s “I like your skin.” line will always make me lose my mind, why tf is she like that?! I do like their dynamic in this with the magical investigative side of things and becoming closer friends it's super cute :3

Question 4: How does Juleka’s whole mind control thing work? Because you explicitly wrote that the “I suggest you tell me more.” thing is a suggestion spell and I’m not sure if we ever see Juleka attempt to mind control someone. Like, I get why she wouldn’t whip it out on the reg, it’s kind of nasty on the consent side of things, but for when they’re fucking around and finding it out it feels like it could be useful depending on how it works :)

EEEE, Alya’s transformation is so cool… love how you wrote that, plus her reaction afterwards with immediately wanting to know more about Juleka is so in character for her.

The running bit of Juleka being like “Why does everyone think Rose and I are dating?” only for her to be the only one who didn’t think that is literally so funny. My poor girl has no self esteem but to be fair Rose, girly, use your words!

Question 5: In your lore, is a bitten vampire different to a born vampire in any capacity? If so, in what ways?

Question 6: Why are Etta and Ella just people but Nora and Alya are selkies? Is it because their mum didn’t bring her coat with her when they escaped the sperm donor? If so; does that mean their mother lost the other traits of a selkie (as was described about Alya having sharper teeth, claws, etc.) or is it another reason? Also I find it so upsetting that Alya’s mother couldn’t keep her coat like man wtf she suffered enough

THEY’RE SO CUTE. I love Juleka just rambling about her experience as a vampire with all that stuff and Alya’s rapidly writing everything down… the buddy cop duo of all time actually.

HA, Alya actively stalking observing Rose and Juleka as a fox at the end is so silly…

[— — —]

The way that I’m like so frustrated that Juleka doesn’t try harder at shape shifting… girl if I could turn into a few animals and all I had to do was practise a lot you best know I’d be experimenting on the reg

Hey… the gangs (mostly) all here! (plus Marinette)

To be perfectly honest with you; until I read this I never cared about Sabrina as a character. She just felt so directionless without Chloe there. Plus the writers kept flip flopping between Sabrina relishing in the nasty tasks Chloe gave her, ending up as a quieter mean girl or being this poor girl who’s Chloe’s lackey and is being pressured into everything. So in canon she had no consistent behaviour and had no substance behind her actions.

On the other hand, Chloe felt similarly baseless and like she was just used for cheap plot progression until they introduced her mother and everything sort of clicked into place, as far as I can remember they never did the same thing for Sabrina.

Like the show really didn’t give us anything but hints on how you could make her interesting but you write her fantastically :)

Like, you both managed to make her a really fun character to read by pulling from bits and pieces of the show and when adding the magical element to it all you created a very compelling person who has complex relationships with people and herself and it’s just a joy to read

Not the title drop-

HEHEHE I love Alya and Juleka covertly gathering information they’re so silly, the idea of them concocting this plan all mischievous like is so funny

Alix expertly changing the subject (“Marinette wasn’t you dad a werewolf Akuma?”) but still hinting towards being / having connections to a werewolf was very smooth I don’t think I noticed that before!

Question 7: Can a werewolf be Akumatized during a full moon? If so; what would happen? I’m ngl, this question does stem both from curiosity as I may have a little bit of a plan for that in my over complicated miraculous fic (Like, seriously, I get why you largely ignore Adrien, Marinette and the miraculous in this. Combining superhero + miraculous shenanigans AND monster / magical society AND civilian stuff into one, is a right bloody fucking nightmare to make it all fit together and figure out how the different aspects interact. It’s a lot of fun but jesus christ is it a pain in the arse to sort out)

EEEE, I love Sabrina and her changeling thingmies, it’s so much fun how you write the glamour being peeled away from each character once they have an ounce of evidence and are actively looking for it

Help not Juleka rolling her eyes at Marinette motor mouthing about Adrien, girl you are no better about Rose. Though I wonder why Adrien makes Juleka nervous.

Also, I wish we fucking went on nature walks more often. The last time I did that in school was when I was in primary 7 (grade 7 if you’re american… I actually don’t know if you are sorry) wait how old are the gang??

Question 8: How old is everyone in this?? Wait not literally everyone- you know what I mean!

Anyway. The point is a nature walk would rock and I love how absolutely none of the reveals for the monsters are the same! Like, Alya and Juleka’s ‘’confrontation’ was in her flat, Sabrina gets fucking lured through a forest by Juleka “Blunt as a dull hammer” Couffaine, and it goes on but I’ll natter on about them when we get there :3

Insane about the Sabrina backstory with her mother divorcing her dad after she found out Sabrina wasn’t the child she gave birth to. I headcanon that Roger also sucked ass at being a husband. He seems the sort.

Neither of her parents are the best but like I can understand freaking the fuck out that your child got kidnapped and you were left with something inhuman, I cannot, on the otherhand, understand Roger treating Sabrina as he did and then trying to get his ‘real’ daughter back… but we’ll get there and I can rant more!

I am curious about how they found out their baby got replaced, changelings are supposed to be convincing copies or were used as an excuse to kill physically deformed babies- but let’s not get into that!

Juleka’s simply speaking the truth about all the changeling nonsense largely pushed by how her dad talks about her.

YES GIRL SHE IS NOT A FAKE. SHE. IS. HER OWN. PERSON!!! Juleka + rightful rage about other people’s shitty situations is always so much fun, a bit depressing that she’s so much more vocal when it’s someone else but rarely if ever speaks up for herself. But fr, whenever you write a character going off about another character’s shitty parents / situation or whatever I’m always right there with whoever’s ranting and raving. You write righteous anger impeccably cap, the dialogue and the action tags, all of it gets the feeling across spectacularly.

Not the way that you said the stump Sabrina was sitting on was “now flourishing, not regrowing in any way, but moss and grass continued their newly improved growth, flowers blooming around their feet along with mushrooms and shrubbery.” is. Is this because Sabrina has been fucking smother by her dad her entire life and this is symbolic of how Juleka’s words affected her. If it is I’m a fucking eejit cause how did I miss that, it feels like it is because of how you phrased it. I mean it might be that but it is also foreshadowing about her botanical magic

Sabrina must be getting whiplash from Juleka suddenly being all chatty and asking pointed questions about her friendship with Chloe compared to her normally just like. Nervously standing somewhere in silence.

Also. Hey. Sabrina girly you’ve been dealing with this whole life altering revelation by yourself for four years? What the actual fuck? I feel so bad for her?? Like I am so glad the gang forms and she hashes out her shit with Chloe and- aaaaah… The gang is just such a good friend group, the dynamics feel fleshed out for all the characters…

Question 9: Hey. what the fuck is Ms. Bustier? I vaguely remember you saying something about her nearly being a succubbus and then rethinking that cause she’s a teacher, and I *think* that it’s implied she is the Fae Queen from that story about Anarka but I’m not sure… Obviously don’t say if it’s spoilers but I just realised I’ve kind of assumed she is Fae and idk if that’s correct

I do love the wee bit at the end with Alya and Sabrina jokingly pushing Juleka to get drunk off of Fae blood, it’s really funny. Also in my head Fae blood is a dark turquoise and I’ve just realised you said “off-coloured blood” not fucking blue where did I get that from???

[— — —]

That's all for tonight! I’m not sure if I’ll go as in depth with each chapter (and I may get too into reading and forget to write stuff down). I might fiddle with making the questions easier to find… Oh and If this is too much text in one ask, do say and I’ll split things up :)

(P.S, thank you for wishing me a happy birthday after my last ask :) it was very sweet <3)

YAYYY IM SO GLAD YOU ENKOYED YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

guahh Im so happy to read this guahhh okay lets get to answering

Question 1: Glamour is both a defense mechanism and a hunting mechanism! In terms for defense, its used by monsters to hide from being hunted or bothered. In terms of hunting, creatures like vampires and kelpies benefit from looking "normal"

Question 2: As for Marinette's reaction, she just straight up didn't notice Alya's coat! It confused her, and when Marinette gets confused by something she gets curious and suspicious. But she was made to show the difference between her, a normal human, and Juleka, a monster who knows what to look for.

Question 3: Juleka has a desire to count things but its not very intense its more like a subtle observation. It's also deeply uncomfortable and slightly scary to cross running water. Juleka would dub it a phobia of getting carried away by the water. She also gets pretty bad sunburns, she won't turn to dust, but god will it hurt to go out without a hat or sunscreen on for a full day.

Question 4: Suggestion magic kinda taps into a curse side of things I imagine! Like, putting someone magically into your debt by being polite. I imagine the origin lies in Fae stuff.

Question 5: They are in fact different! Juleka is a born vampire, meaning while she's sensitive to sunlight she will not die, and other 'holy' objects won't immediately kill her. She can also eat human food. Meanwhile, to be bitten into a vampire means Dying. When you're bitten by a vampire, you dont turn unless that bite Kills You.

Thus bitten vampires are undead, and Will die in direct sunlight, and can only survive on blood.

Question 6: You're correct! Etta and Ella lack the traits because Alya's mom lacks her coat. Im unsure if that means Marlena's own traits are fading without it.

Question 7: I think it would be VERY difficult to akumatize a full moon werewolf since theres little emotions involved with the creature. Only instincts.

Question 8: I think they're around 16-17 in this!

Question 9: I shan't sayyyy thats a spoilerrrr

#other magic au #sneak a cat

20 notes · View notes

crash-and-cure · 2 years ago

Text

If I Were You Part 5 (Yandere!Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Summary: Love is the only rational act. Call him crazy or unhinged all you want, that sounds just about right to Elvis.

A/N: Well... it’s been a minute. Sorry y’all I’ve been having to deal with a move recently which set me back alot in terms of finding free time to write but I’d rather it be late and good than early and rushed. This chapter is going to be from Elvis POV so if it feels like there is a bit of a heel turn from reader know that that is why. We’ll also be getting insight as to how reader has been feeling these last few months and how she handles what happened in this chapter in the next.

Warnings: Yandere!Elvis so expect themes of obsessive, manipulative, jealous, and heavily delusional behavior as well as references to previous blackmail, emotional and otherwise, here too. Dubious consent in some areas. Inappropriate relationship with a Therapist (Though she is no longer one at the moment). Depictions of a therapy session. Explicit sexual content depicted that includes Penetrative sex (m/f), Daddy Kink, Praise kink, a bit of somnophilia (she does not stay asleep), vaginal fingering, and a tiny bit of anal play. Also mentions of Elvis' mommy issues, though he’ll never call them that and reader’s daddy issues because parallels. Period typical misogyny depicted and reflected by POV character’s attitude towards women in the orkplace. Finally depictions of a toxic relationship that include power imbalances, emotional manipulation, heavy use of coercion, grabbing that leads to bruising and deception. Please do not interact if you are under 18.

Word count: 14K

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Masterlist

Humility is something Elvis always tries to work towards. Even as his star grew to new heights he could never have dreamed of before, he always in the back of his head felt as though he was just a step away from losing it all. And he almost did, not in the sense of losing the fame or the money, but he did lose sight of what he loved, in who he loved and

But people didn’t stop loving him.

He’s been honest with you that this was a heavy burden he had to bear, that need to fix himself not for his own sake but for others. The idea that him running himself ragged into an early grave felt less like a fear, and more like an inevitability.

And yet he beat the odds, and now he looks forward to all that life has to offer now.

Elvis tries to be humble, but it’s hard to do so when every morning he gets to wake up next to the most beautiful, most intelligent, and most caring woman in the world, with the full knowledge that you’re his alone.

He never thought it was possible to love someone so deeply like this.

Sure at first you yourself used to see an issue in this kind of love, but he eventually brought you around. Sure it can be an awful thing when someone is vile, and taking advantage of the other, but he knows he never has to worry about that from you.

You take care of each other, and ain’t that what it’s all about?

Those other people don’t know what the two of you got, and have never experienced a love like yours. If they could even experience a fraction of the love he felt for you, they would understand why nothing could keep him away from you. How cruel it would in fact be to keep either of you apart.

Now as he holds you in his arms he’s content in the knowledge that no one has any right to do so.

Those first few months of your relationship, there would be times when he woke up and even seeing you he couldn’t entirely trust it was truly you. His mind had played tricks on him before with all those other women he had had right before you, and he would have to feel the devastating grief that these women weren’t you.

He doesn’t even remember most of their names, considering how many of them left because of how often he would say your name when he wasn’t being careful, it was probably for the best. Part of him wonders if any of them ever figured out they were stand-ins for you, the other part worries that he doesn't feel particularly guilty even if they did.

But these worries quickly die as he looks down on your beautiful face.

He liked seeing you so sleepy, those early months, it’s when you were most honest he thinks. Too tired to think too hard about anything save for the feelings he knows he brings out in you. Just awake enough to know what you’re doing and more importantly to know how to enjoy yourself. When you’re soft and pliable just the way he likes you, but just as ravenous and willful as any wildcat to really make him work up an appetite.

He lifts the covers off of the both of you and he gets to see how the hem of your baby doll had ridden up well past your hips, and he licks his lips seeing his breakfast.

He knows that your body wanted him before your mind did. That on some deeper level you wanted him, long before you could think so, let alone admit it. And he sees it in these moments as you’re still dead asleep but you squirm under his touch. Breathy sighs fall from your plush lips as he lazily brushes his fingers along your inner thighs

He wonders what you dream about these days. You once told him how dreams can have any meaning you assign them to have, and it’s within his power to decide.

He once told Priscilla that he was “all outta dreams,” and he could safely say he feels the same way with you. Before those words meant how he felt hopeless in such a bleak situation, but now they mean the utter contentment he feels everyday when he’s with you.

Something you gave him, and in spite of all that he’s done to get you here, he will happily spend the rest of his days paying you back. You’ve helped him in ways you probably couldn’t imagine, as now, he wants for nothing but you anymore.

And when his hand finally reaches into that warm piece of heaven between your legs, there is no hiding the way he makes you feel. You squirm under his touch, not having even been anywhere close to waking up. He hopes that he now occupies your dream world now as you have done since he’s met you.

Your eyes don’t immediately shoot open, but you jump a little as he starts to drag you back to the waking world. With a half-lidded unfocused stare, you’re all lazy smiles and breathy moans as you buck your hips against his hand all the while your ass rocks against him, stirring up little Elvis from his slumber. He wonders if you believe you’re still dreaming, after all in his mind everyday with you feels like one.

You’ve become so compliant since you left your job for him. You don’t gotta worry about no office to be at or other patients you need to see. You don’t mind being seen with him out and about anymore. You especially don’t mind the marks he leaves on you, which is a good thing especially now as he’s in a mood to mark you where he can today.

But you, in your half-asleep state, apparently have other plans. He feels as you blindly reach between your legs to grab a hold of him, catching him off-guard slightly as he starts to feels his cock part your folds. Then without a word of warning you close your thighs, and it’s like a punch to the gut it feels so good. You’re warm as all get out, and your thighs are still slick from last night, but the major difference between this and your little love cavern is your teasing fingers that gently bring the very tip of him up to continuously nudge at your clit.

It’s enough to drive any man insane.

It truly takes everything within him to pull away from you, and from the needy little whine you give, you feel the same. He turns you around and puts you right to straddle his lap. Your head lolls a bit at the swift motion, not entirely awake, but you practically jolt awake when he grabs your behind.

“Now why you gotta go teasin’ like that Mama,” he growls relishing in the feel of your ass beneath his fingers. He wonders how hard he would need to squeeze to leave a couple marks down there.

“‘M sorry daddy,” you mewl unconvincingly, lowering yourself to kiss him, something you’re no longer scared to initiate. A sharp slap on your ass has you realizing he meant business right now. But still you wait for him to tell you what to do.

He’s taught you well.

“Well now you gotta fix it Sweetheart,” he purrs, and you shudder as his thumbs glide up your inner thighs, . “Can’t have your daddy goin’ out there lookin’ like this now can we?”

You shake your head no and the desire to just bend you over and take you like an animal grew but he wanted you to finish what you started. Granted you may not have started this specifically this morning but there ain’t no getting around the fact that this all started with you.

He bites his lip to really focus on you in that moment; that little contented sigh that would fall from your lips feeling the fat head of his cock brush up against your eager clit, before turning into a lazy smile, as you slowly but surely guide him to that place he loves so much. That filthy moan that falls from your lips as he finally begins the descent into your entrance, before it turns into a needy little whine as he slowly retracts his hips and before he suddenly slams them back into you full force.

That little wiggle your ass does as you give a breathy “daddy” is all the encouragement he needs before he presses upward. One hand threads through his own right on your hip, while the other . The whiny little noises you make each time he even nudges that precious little spot you bashfully admitted only he was ever able to reach.

The material of your nightie by now has fully slipped off your shoulders, now leaving it only as a useless ring of fabric around your waist. You don’t seem to mind a single bit as you eagerly bounce up and down his cock, your gorgeous tits on full display and, to his chagrin, offensively clear of any bruises. In fact a quick once over of your body shows that the marks he’s left on you before were already healing up.

He’s really gotta do something about that soon. Afterall for as smart as you can be, you’re often liable to forgetting who you belong to.

But for as tempting as your nipples can be, he actively has to stave off his own desires, just to fully appreciate the image before him. That of the good doctor fucking herself stupid on his cock as she shamelessly licks her own juices right off his fingers, and begs for more from her daddy while the early morning rays give an almost angelic appearance. But that image of purity is swiftly done away with as he reaches around you and with his still wet fingers he lightly presses on that tight ring of muscle you’re far too demure to ever ask him about but he knew you loved when he did this. And with tears in your eyes and unrestrained cries flying from your lips, you seemingly fall apart and your walls clamp down on him like a vice.

Truly there ain’t ever gonna be a more perfect woman, he thinks as feels euphoria rocket through him and he proceeds to paint your inner walls white. Your hips stutter as you try to catch your breath, still quivering through some aftershocks, and you try to catch yourself on your hand from fully collapsing into him. Well he ain’t having none of that, and he wraps his arms around you to bring you as close as possible to him, never wanting to let you go.

Though the absolute best part for him is that you no longer get that left over guilty look afterward. The shy act was cute the first few months but as time went on it lost its appeal and he wished you would stop treating him like something you had to feel ashamed of. But now when you open your eyes to look at him all he sees are equal parts adoration and hunger. And it’s all for him.

Thanks to you he’s gotten far better in terms of communicating what he wants from people and it’s probably the worst kept secret in all of Graceland how much he wants and needs you at any given moment. You're able to ignite him in ways no girl has ever been able to do, and he doubts there will ever be another like you.

Though he thinks he most especially loves mornings like these because it’s all the proof he needs that that old job of yours wasn’t worth all the trouble it was causing in your head. After all, how can anything that doesn’t hurt no one and makes you feel this good be bad?

He ain’t one to talk though, he remembers those early months when he did try to fight off his feelings for you.

It’s wild to think he ever had doubts about therapy. Dr. Wilson was fine so far in that he was able to help him through his addiction without making him feel awful about it while also helping him realize that there was a lot more going on in his need for the drugs that he wasn’t even aware of. He was always able to remain coolly neutral no matter what ever fucked up thing the rockstar had told him. Elvis got the sense that he had been at this so long and with so many different celebrities that hardly anything phased him at this point. Which was good in a way, didn’t make him feel so outta place there but it also felt so…impersonal. As though the person that came right before him or right after him would get the same advice and insights as he did.

Overall he was fine in terms of easing him into therapy and being able to express his thoughts and feelings with someone without having to be afraid of being judged. But he will admit that Wilson did do right by him by recommending you in the first place.

He still remembers that day, there was an odd sense of euphoria to not only have a name for what he had but also that there were specialists who could handle this sort of thing professionally. But at the same time it clashed with his hope of his life going back to the way it was any time soon.

“Co-dependency is a relatively new term within the psychology community, so there aren’t many who are equipped to handle this condition.” Wilson says, eyes firmly on his notes. “But you’re in luck as I believe there is a specialist located in the Memphis area last I checked.”

“Doc, you sure I even need this?” he would question, as he fidgeted with the sleeve of his robe, the material having become a tad bit scratchier than when he had arrived. “I mean I don’t, even get cravin’s for them pills no more.”

“Yes Elvis, we’ve treated the more overt and life-threatening symptoms of your addiction, but we’ve yet to truly tap into the underlying cause. Without doing that you would be liable to fall right back into old habits all over again. Maybe not with the pills, but some other vice.” he says calmly. “It’s why we enforce rules as to moderation within the facility as oftentimes getting rid of one addiction will lead to seeking solace in another. You’ve done better than most in abstaining from the more overt addictions and in order to keep up with this, I think it would be best if you continue treatment with Dr. Y/L/N.”

Elvis has a long sigh at this but he does genuinely want to get better, yet he still holds doubt as to whether more of this is necessary. He thinks at best you will be able to show him what to look out for in people that could take advantage of him again and you could go your separate ways after a few sessions. After all he did at least want to show Priscilla that he was actually making an effort to get better, and what better way than to keep going to therapy.

He hesitated a bit during that first call, when he found out you were a woman. He knows it’s a whole new era and women can work outside the home if they want and all that, but he still wasn’t too sure about it. And he ain’t never met a woman who called herself a doctor, so there was that.

But he also knew himself well enough to know that any excuse he could get to get out of going he would take, and having to drive all the way from Memphis to Nashville was a pretty good one. Besides women are naturally good with talking and feelings and shit, so it kinda makes sense in a way to see a woman about this kind of stuff. So it was worth a shot.

That all changed when he met you in person for the first time. What he almost immediately noticed about you was how warm your eyes were. Not necessarily in color, but how you looked genuinely happy to see him. And not just in the way he’s used to from women who want him, but more… something he can’t quite put his finger on. But when you looked at him for the first time he felt as though he was being seen as Elvis, not just as The Elvis Presely.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Presley, it’s nice to meet you.” You said to him with a friendly smile on your face and a firm handshake.

“Same here, Dr. Y/L/N,” he would say, as all of his doubts seemed to melt away. You were beautiful in a way he wasn’t used to, all professional and button-upped like a secretary yet also comforting and very approachable like a librarian. It was an odd combination no doubt but you pulled it off well.

There’s something about you that just puts his mind at ease, not only as you talk but as you listen. He felt like he was being heard instead of just listened to, which isn’t something he ever realized was lacking in his life. When you sat there you looked as though you could listen to him talk for hours, not the slightest bit of impatience to be seen. And the way you looked at him as he talked, as much as you may have been trying to hide it, he saw that you felt what he felt when talking about these things, his joy in performing, his sadness over the state of his family, his anger at Colonel.

That was another thing, the little tidbits of advice you gave, that in retrospect seem so obvious, but hearing it from you that Parker didn't have any control over him anymore and he didn’t have to call him something that made it look like that. It’s hard to believe you're younger than him and yet so much wiser.

There was one thing you said to him toward the end of that first session and you were talking about his goals overall.

“There’s a lotta things I want Doc,” he says. “I want my family back. I want to get back with ‘Cilla. I want to get back into music and perform again. I… want to know what to look out for so I don’t make the same mistake again.”

That last one apparently peaks your interest, as you say with a gentle smile on your lips, “Mr. Presley, many people when they walk into my office expect to be given answers as to their conditions or the issues ongoing in their lives. But the reality is that I don’t have the answers but what I can do is act as a guide so that you may be able to find what you may be looking for in a healthy and effective manner.”

”I-I think I see what you’re sayin’ Doc,” he says. “A-and you can call me Elvis,” he states, ifa bit shyer this time around.

“Of course Elvis,” you say with a smile radiating warmth. “Now, as we’re getting towards the end of our session, I would like to express my goals for you.”

He’s very curious as to what you have to say, so he leans forward eager to listen.

“Elvis, contrary to what it may sound like, my goal is not to espouse total self-reliance and to never trust anyone again. Nor is it for you to simply find ‘better’ people to rely on totally,” you say. “My goal for you, as it is for all of my patients, is to trust yourself most of all to know what’s best for you. Good or bad, regardless of another's opinions, these are your choices to make.”

Those are simple words but they have a monumental impact on his perspective of things. And for the first time in a long time he looks at you and sees someone he can trust to do right by him.

And now the first thing he’s gonna trust himself about, it’s that you’re gonna be good for him overall.

It was a bit difficult to get into the whole routine of seeing you, especially as he didn’t want certain people in his circle knowing that he was even still going to therapy. Not even necessarily because he feared it would somehow get back to the papers but because most of them were all under the same belief that therapy was just a crock of shit and all he needed to do was man up. So he just simply didn’t bring it up to them specifically and let only a few people really know what he was doing. And only they know just so they can sufficiently cover his ass when he’s out with you.

None of them seemed to mind his scheduled “alone times” too much since he always came back and nothing newsworthy would happen so they let him be.

Over the next few weeks he found himself looking forward to sessions with you. He’s taking his health seriously, he’s getting to see Lisa more and more, he’s sleeping better, everything in his life is slowly but surely improving thanks to you. Though the better sleep had its flaws as he had been having some weird dreams for awhile. Not so much nightmares, but they definitely left him with some odd feelings in the morning.

They almost always started off the same way, he was back on that couch in Dr. Wilson’s office and the way he was being spoken to, it felt less like therapy and more like an interrogation. He would never remember what he was being asked, but the longer it went on the worse he would feel.

And then you walk into the office and Wilson disappears. In the beginning you would simply take Wilson’s seat, and he feels himself start to relax. Something about you just made it easy to do so. You could even be asking the same questions Wilson was asking, but you’re far gentler in your delivery, and it helps ease the answers out.

A lot of his dreams have been going this way but recently you’ve been getting closer and closer, and now you sit beside him on the sofa. You would rub his back, play with his hair and even sometimes hold his hand all the while listening to what he had to say. Which then progressed to him even laying his head in your lap.

He vividly remembers how he would nuzzle into your chest as you continuously ran your nails through his hair. Neither of you speak but he can’t recall ever feeling so at peace than in those imaginary moments with you.

Of course there were also less than wholesome dreams where he the ones where you ride him right into the couch or he takes you on your desk. Though arguably the most memorable had to be when he rested his head on your lap as he’d done in his dreams a million times before and you would slowly unbutton your blouse.

Undoubtedly one of the most fucked up things he’s ever dreamt as you proceeded to jerk him off as he sucked on those gorgeous tits of yours. But still he couldn’t get out of his head that look of utter adoration in your eyes as you threaded your fingers in his hair and whispered how he was a good boy.

He woke up that morning needing to literally peel his pants off of him.

He’s not an idiot. He has a daughter and so he knows what that could only look like from the outside. He has a pretty good idea what it may mean, seeing you in such a motherly role, but he’s also seen Psycho and knows he’s far from dressing up as his Mama to stab women in the shower. So really it doesn’t mean anything.

“Doc?” he asks, and you look up from your notes. He knows he should probably bring up the dreams, as you’ll definitely have something to say about it. But seeing you in that Turtleneck that made your tits look phenomenal made his brain short circuit a bit, and he worries even hinting at anything like this may scare you off and have you believing he’s a Norman Bates type. So instead he asks, “Why don’t you got one a them couches?”

Your brow furrows at that. “A… fainting couch?” You ask tentatively.

“That’s the one,” he snaps his fingers. “Why don’tcha got one of those?”

“Oh, well…” you say, pausing to bite your lip, looking for the right words. This simple act causes him to swallow hard, and he prays you don’t notice as you continue. “Given the patients I work with, I find that keeping us on the same level is far more beneficial than the alternative. It acts as a good reminder that we’re equals in this environment,” you explain with a gentle smile.

“Same level huh?” he questions. “So if I sat down on the floor you would follow?”

“If that’s where you feel most comfortable,” you say amused.

He doesn’t exactly know why, but part of his brain took that as a challenge, while the other part wanted to really test as to whether or not you would follow through. In either case he gets off his chair only to lie flat on his back on the shag carpet of your office. He looks back up and sees you raise an eyebrow at his antics, with a look of “seriously?” on your face. There is a bit of a stare down before you let out a small defeated sigh before you make motions to follow suit.

“Don’t say I’m not a woman of my word,” you would explain as you lay down on the floor parallel to him, though the table kept a good distance between the two of you. Not an easy feat for you considering you were wearing a skirt that day, but in spite of that you were somehow able to make the act look as dignified as possible. Though that doesn’t prevent a brief but very dangerous image of you hiking up your skirt and taking a seat over his face.

Woah… Where did that come from? he would ask himself as he ripped his eyes away from you and looked up at the ceiling.

“Comfortable?” Both real and fantasy you would question.

“Very,” he would answer, lying only slightly.

You give a mirthful smile before you get right back to business. “Now that we’re down here, I would like to discuss some of your risk-taking behavior upon your return from Germany,”

“I wouldn’t say layin’ down on the floor is risky,” he quips. He’s trying hard to not focus on the gap that’s appeared between the buttons of your shirt nor the way that your notebook keeps your skirt from sliding down further. But at the same time focusing on your face right now feels dangerous for some reason he can’t quite place.

Something blooms in his chest when he hears you huff in amusement at him. “I’ll admit not my most graceful of transitions, but my point still stands. When you look back on your time after your return stateside, do you believe you were doing things that were considered far more risky?”

“I mean… I guess,” he would admit. “Aside from the drugs, nothin’ too wild, really. Just pushin’ each other down… and drivin’ around real fast… and shootin’ fireworks at each other… I see what your sayin’.” It’s funny that he only now realizes just by talking to you about them.

“And nobody ever protested to you doing these things?”

“Well my daddy did at first, but then stopped once he figured I wouldn’t stop. Most times it was The Colo-shit! Parker… he was the one who always made big stink ‘bout what I was doin’ if it was dangerous or made me look bad.”

You bring your pen to your mouth, simply resting it on your lips, mulling over his words before you say, “Elvis correct me if I’m wrong, but it sounds to me that Parker occupied a very… parental role in your life?”

“I guess,” he says, unsure of it until a long dormant memory comes barreling to mind as he recalls his own words to that man from what felt a lifetime ago. “I even said as much to him at my own Mama’s funeral.” He says covering his eyes, and taking a deep breath, willing no tears to fall right in front of you. “I feel like such a fool.”

And then he feels something on his palm. He looks to his side to see that your hand now holds his. It’s such a simple gesture, one that anybody could have done, but coming from you it feels like everything.

“Elvis…” you start off slowly, your thumb rubbing soothing lines onto the back of his hand. “Grief is a terrible thing to experience. It can knock out your knees and snatch the breath right out of your lungs. And it’s certainly not uncommon for people like that to take advantage of those in such a vulnerable position.” you say in your most soothing voice.

“Don’t think less of yourself for staying as long as you did. Instead I ask you to think of it as you left when you were ready to do so.”

He has to pause to contemplate your words for a second there, because it’s such a simple twist of perspective but it seems to make all the difference as he feels a long present weight of guilt lift. “Yeah… yeah you’re right,” he says, his chest filling with a sense of warmth he hadn’t realized he’s been missing for a while now. “I-I took all of the rat bastards shit for years, because I could take it… a-and I left when I didn’t want to do that no more.”

“Exactly,” you say, slipping out of his grasp and giving a friendly pat on his hands as you return to your side of the table.

The rest of the session is pretty light, all things considered, talking about Music, something he can do at literally any given moment and he left your office that day with a newfound appreciation for women’s office wear. He gets the sense that it’s very intentional on your part. The way you can steer a conversation is so fucking impressive and it served you well when you were dodging something.

But he eventually learned your ways. And he was able to get you to open up about yourself like when you learned his favorite hero growing up was Captain Marvel Jr. and you confided in him your favorite was Wonder Woman, and how you learned to appreciate her even more when you learned she was created by a Psychologist. Or when he told you about his sleep troubles and you taught him your trick to falling asleep was to eat Pancakes, something that came as a bit of a routine from your waitressing days since that was your usual order at the end of your shift. Little things that made you more than just his shrink to him.

He swears he didn’t realize what he was doing at first, and it wasn’t until Jerry pointed it out to him that same night. He and the rest were at some show that he doesn’t really remember, and he sees you walk past the table he was at. He’s so caught off guard that he even turns his head fully around as you walk away.

Jerry knows about his therapy and tends to cover for him when he goes to see you, but has never actually met you, so it surprised him when Jerry asked if he wanted him to go get you for him.

He’s glad for the low lighting of this place as he doubts he would otherwise be able to hide his inflamed face right now. “What? No… No. Wh-why’d ya’ think I want her?”

“Well she’s your type ain’t she?” he asks, glancing at the bar behind Elvis’ shoulder where you’re standing. Elvis is trying hard not to look back because the dress you’re wearing is far more revealing than he’s ever seen you wear, and he doubts if he keeps looking he’ll be able to stop, still that question eats at him.

“The hell are you on Jer?”

“EP, you’re a lot a things,” Jerry says as he gets up, patting him on the back. “Subtle ain’t one a them.”

He knows one more word and Jerry will stop and not approach you, but something stops him from doing so. He figures you’re going to say no anyway, as you made it clear in your first session that you were never going to approach a patient in public, and that’ll be the end of that. Still the thought of you saying no does leave a sour taste in his mouth that the whiskey can’t quite chase away. He steals a glance over his shoulder and with the better lighting at the bar he realizes that that girl ain’t you. Her nose is a different shape, hair color is not quite right in the new light, and this girl doesn’t have quite the same dignified posture that you’ve got.

He shakes his head at these thoughts. It’s ridiculous that he even thought that was you for even a second. You work everyday and he doubts this would be your scene on a Thursday night. He imagines you would be in bed by now or at least settling by this time. You have the look of a good girl who reads at night to fall asleep and he can just about picture the way you would look lounging against a headboard that looks suspiciously familiar. This line of thought leads to him idly wondering what you wear to bed at night, which is quickly broken when Jerry approaches with the girl.

The girl has a face-splitting grin and in her eyes, he finds that star-struck look he’s seen in hundreds of other women's eyes before her. Despite her eyes being similar in color he can’t help but be reminded of the stark difference in your eyes when he met you for the first time. She’s seeing a god where you saw a man.

Still he tries to give the girl, Jackie, a fair shake, but the longer the night goes on the more he has to pick apart. Her voice is a little too high-pitched to be yours. Her make-up, not as pristine as yours usually is. Even her nails seem to annoy him as they are a little longer than how you usually keep them, and they only really drew his attention while she was drumming them along the table as he spoke. The girl is practically shaking in her seat, itching to get out of here with him.

Well at least this one knows what she wants, he thinks to himself as he asks if she would mind a more quiet place to talk.

It’s wrong on so many levels what he’s doing, and he recognizes that as he puts his arm around her shoulders and leads her out of the place. Jane gushes about how big of a fan she’s been since she was a kid and how this is a dream come true. All Elvis could really focus on is if he squints just hard enough he can almost see you saying that to him, and that’s just enough to get him going, as he buries his face into the girl's neck, and he hears sweet moans he wishes came from you.

Jenna was gone come morning, and Elvis is glad for that small mercy. And in the early morning rays, Elvis is left alone with his thoughts, and he gets to truly think about the women he’s been with recently. He thinks of Shannon who drew his eye when he got a whiff of her perfume, and it happened to be the same one he knows you’ve worn before, and he would bury his face in her neck as he pounded into her. Amy whose hair was almost the exact same color as yours and whom he really only liked taking from the behind without truly looking at her face. Carol whose voice sounded eerily close to yours and in the dark he was able to imagine someone else entirely as she moaned his name over and over again. And finally there was Jamie who was almost the spitting image of you save for a few things here and there.

It’s nothing, he tries to lie to himself.

It doesn’t matter.

They don’t matter.

They shouldn’t matter really, they were all gone before the morning came, so obviously none of them weren’t interested in anything serious. Which is good…

…Right?

It fucks with his head something fierce, that he ends up bringing it up the next time he sees you. “I think I lost my way with women.” he would say as soon as he sat down, before you even got a chance to crack open your little notebook.

You quickly put the pen between your lips, in that cute way he likes, to hold while you open your notebook, and ask “in what regard Elvis?” This has got to be a sign as to how comfortable he’s gotten with you. He would never have dared to talk about something like this with anyone else, not so much because he feared that he would be laughed at, but because more than likely he would be plastered with denials and reassurances as to how much of a ladies man he still is, without ever even getting into detail why he felt like that.

Still he finds himself clamming up, wishing to take the words back, shame burning in his belly over these thoughts. You were having none of it, as you put down your notebook and pen on the table between the two of you and lean forward. “Elvis you can talk about this with me,” you coax in your softest voice, something he’s come to expect look forward to.

He smiles at this as he’s come to appreciate this about you. You get right to work and listen as he expresses his fears about his romantic life. You’re a great listener, though he supposes that comes with the job, but in the way you move and watch him, he never doubts that you are. You’re always watching him, you rarely if ever glance at the clock, and nothing about your body language ever says that you’re getting tired of hearing him talk. Even Wilson had that annoying leg bounce thing toward the end of sessions with him.

The only thing he could really complain about was how often you touched your lips while listening. Whether it was simply resting a fist to your mouth or pinching your bottom lip, you’re almost always doing something of the like when you’re concentrating he’s noticed. He doubts you’re doing it on purpose, but he still finds it very distracting. That being said he was never about to tell you to stop.

“Elvis as I understand this dilemma you’re having,” you say. “You’re worried that the only type of women you attract these days are women who are not seeking long-term relationships.”

“I don’t know Doc, it might be nothin’,” he says, still trying to downplay how uncomfortable the concept makes him. “

“If it bothers you Elvis, then it’s not nothing,” you gently encourage. “People thrive on connections to one another, and I’m glad to see that you’re taking steps to establish new connections after all that you’ve faced before. Perhaps these women aren’t all opposed to a romantic relationship, but they may perhaps be under the impression that you are, given your fame.”

“So my reputations workin’ against me on this,” he asks solemnly.

“In a sense, yes. Reputation is a bit of a funny thing like that,” you say. “It’s not so much your actions that make it up, but other’s perceptions of said actions. And if you feel you’re ready to embark on a new long-term relationship, then I would encourage you to start on a solid foundation of honesty.”

“What do you mean? Tell them I’m lookin’ to get married again?”

This gets a small huff of laughter out of you, “Perhaps not that strong in the beginning,” you say. “But something along the lines of… ‘when can we meet up again?’ just a little something like that to establish that you are at the very least interested in a long-term relationship.”

“Doc, would you wanna be with me,” he says, and he would be lying if he says he didn’t enjoy the way your eyes practically bugged out of your head before he recovered with a “or someone with a reputation like me?”

You try to pass off your sigh of relief as simply a deep breath before you answer with, “I personally try not to let others' perceptions of potential partners affect my own feelings toward them. And I reassure you that there are others of the same mind and should you signal that you want something more… permanent, you’ll find someone.” you say with a reassuring smile on your face. “While we’re still on this topic as to your romantic life…” you trail off slightly. “You stated one of your goals in therapy was to rekindle your relationship with your Ex-Wife. Is she the one you’re talking about trying to have a relationship with?”

“... no,” he sighs, as he eyes you sitting directly across from him. “I-I love her and all but… I-I don’t know if I want her in the same way I did before. And… I-I think I want someone else.” He thinks this is the first time he’s been able to say this out loud, but it admittedly does feel like a weight lifted off his shoulders as he admits to it. You give a soft, reassuring smile at his words, and while he knows that it’s probably because you’re happy to see him moving forward with his life, a small part of him wants to believe it’s because you want him to be available.

“I understand, Elvis,” you reassure him. “And rest assured that should you at any point choose otherwise you’re, of course, free to do so.”

He leaves later on reassured in his worth as a partner, but the thought that you had been approached by men before leaves an otherwise good meeting with a sour note. That’s the first time he realizes that you have a life outside of your office and somehow worse, you have other patients you talk to. It’s like seeing a teacher at a grocery store and realizing they don’t live at school.

He knows it ain’t right to feel this way, that you’re a person too, who has more to offer than just what you do for your job. But he can’t help the way he feels. Saddest part is the person he would go to talk about these feelings with is the person he has to talk about.

And so rather than actually dealing with it, head on he tried to satisfy these feelings for you in other ways, but he promised himself he would never act on them.

At least… not yet.

It was working for a time, he would see you twice a week, he would bear his soul to you alone, and slowly but surely you also opened up to him as well. There were small comments here and there about simple preferences which eventually gave way to you talking a bit about your time and school and your friends, and to his relief you never brought up any sort of boyfriend. But outside of your office he accepted that he did in fact have a “type” and most of his boys made it their mission to find girls that look even a little bit like you.

And yet the more he saw you, the more he fell for you.

After the wine incident he knew he couldn’t deny himself what he wanted anymore and he gradually started to lay the groundwork in order to make that happen.

When he would casually slip in pet names for you, kiss the back of your hand, or even when he would linger a little too long after a session you never said anything about it. And he always took that as an opportunity to go further and further each time.

He even started reading up on Psychology, and to his surprise some of it was down right fascinating, especially learning how it stems from Physiology meeting Philosophy. Sure the dog studies and the Milgram experiment ended up being very useful to him later on, but he does believe Freud was onto something there. But he can’t wrap his head around why you tend to get very skittish when you do on occasion bring up his Mama.

He likes to think she would’ve liked you very much for how smart and responsible you are. She maybe wouldn’t have loved the whole working outside of home thing, but he eventually fixed that.

The same way he taught himself to play music was the same way he got you to fall in love with him: laser-sharp focus and unwavering persistence.

But then you had to go and almost throw that all away. You spat in the face of his gift and tried to reprimand him for doing a nice thing for you. So he had to play it cool for a while after that. You seemed to retreat a bit from him, but you were no less warm and caring for him. You even stopped really remarking when he would “accidentally” bump into you when you’re out and about.

But no dice the next time he tried. It was only as Jerry returned with a guilty look on his face did he realize his mistake in A. sending someone else and B. not framing it as a part of his therapy, which he knows you wouldn’t have refused.

“EP…” Jerry says lightly. “Y-your shrink…”

“What ‘bout her Jerry,” Elvis asks in no mood after your refusal.

“I-I noticed that she-she kinda looks like some a the girls you been seein’,” he swallows a bit. Seemingly praying to god he’s wrong about this.

“No,” the rockstar says simply, not really caring to beat around the bush anymore, and Jerry seems almost relieved until he continues. “They look like her,” and for as callous as it sounds he can’t even muster an ounce of sympathy for them, as though it’s their fault that they’re not you. But the reality is, none of them could hold a candle to you, and they only matter so far in preventing him from getting too frustrated with how slow you're taking things.

“Elvis… I-I don’t think it-it’s such a good idea to get so… involved with your doctor again,” Jerry would say tentatively, unsure how he would react.

“Jerry,” he says, trying to control his temper, and remembering those breathing exercises you went over with him. “I think my business is my business.”

“I-I know but-”

“But nothin’ Jerry!” he yells. “Y’all had fuck all to say when I was runnin’ myself in the grave! And now that I’m gettin back on track, now you wanna step in?!” Jerry gaped at him, before quickly shutting his mouth, a guilty look taking over his face as he looked down at the ground, having nothing to say. “Get the fuck outta my face Jerry.”

Jerry and the rest that knew about you since the beginning would eventually come around on you, seeing hat you did for him and how much he needed you. It served him all the better later on. Though now that all feels like ancient history now, especially now that you’re together in private, in public, and pretty soon under the eyes of the lord.

As far as you know Elvis didn’t want to acknowledge the “blackmail” and simply announced your engagement. He didn’t even want to acknowledge Parker, as that would imply there’s anything wrong with your relationship that he could have exploited.

The way he tells the story is that a couple months after rehab, he was out and about in Memphis when you caught his eye from across the room. He described it as nothing short of love at first sight, but the problem was he had no idea how to approach a woman as sophisticated as you. It was made all the worse when he did approach and you introduced yourself as Dr. Y/L/N, you weren’t so awestruck by him, and in fact talked to him like a normal person. He was so caught off guard that when you had revealed that you were a therapist he jumped at the chance and said he had been looking for one in the area after rehab and you had given him your business card.

How the next few months were about how you became his therapist, and how he was more or less scheming to sweep you off your feet the moment he could. How you tried your best to keep things professional until you could no longer deny your feelings nor could he deny his. None of which was a lie, but he did have to clean up the story for the reporters (didn’t stop Penthouse from begging for the dirtier details).

The story was simple, almost the ideal story of the recovery of a troubled man and how it was the love of a good woman that helped him heal from all of it (Say what you will, he knows you’ve loved him longer than you’re willing to admit). And the people ate it up.

Everybody could see how good you were for him, how he’s back and better than ever because of your efforts.

He wishes you wouldn’t focus so much on the others who want to make this out as a bad thing for either of you. They don’t know you and they especially don't know him, so how can they judge what either of you do. That board of therapists may say that the two of you being together is wrong, and for a time you may even have believed that but he knows in his heart of hearts that this was meant to be.

Afterall you yourself showed him how other people’s perceptions of you shouldn’t affect your own perception of yourself.

As far as days in Graceland it’s a pretty typical and quiet one, Mary makes the two of you breakfast, you both practice tai chi while it’s still early, you sit with him at the piano as he worked on music, and later he would bend you over the piano so you could make some music for him, you have lunch. It’s looking to be a perfect day.

You’re never too far from him anymore but he doesn’t think he’ll ever have enough of you. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sometime after lunch, Jerry comes around with those books you ordered. As much as you tried to hide it at first, he could see you were excited for the world tour. Studying up on the history of practically every city he was going to be performing in, trying to learn a couple languages, sharing almost everything with him.

You look so in your element when you’re reading, and he can’t help but intrude and make his dreams into a reality. You're startled at first as he rests his head in your lap, but you quickly adjust and ease into the new position.

He’s close to purring with the way you run your nails along his scalp, so familiar and comforting a gesture that it’s not long before his eyelids go heavy and he finds himself drifting off to sleep with a smile on his face.

With you around, sleep is coming easier and easier these days. You worry about this, fearing that he would become too dependent on you for sleep.

He can’t help it that you’re such a dependable person.

He would wake up later, only the slightest bit distressed that you were gone, but he knows that you wouldn’t have gone too far. And he didn’t have to look too hard to find you, as you stepped out of your dressing room, and sees you wearing something very familiar.

He doesn’t think he'll ever forget that night.

He thought at the time that nothing could happen between you two. He had accepted that at first, tried to content himself to having you in his life in whatever way he could, even if only platonically. He admits he may have stalled some days, especially the sessions after you would remark how far he’s come in therapy, all in order to drag out his time with you.

It truly felt like the stars had aligned for the both of you that night. He wasn’t really one for fancy places like this, any other day he would have taken a cheap little diner, but he had been craving a real good steak for a while and figured some fancy place like this would be his best bet. Imagine his surprise when he just idly glanced down at the reservation book and saw your name.

He had been hoping to build something between the two of you outside of your office for a while by that point, but that day you just so happened to have ended up at the same restaurant as him. This just solidified in his head that the two of you were meant to be, because it couldn’t be just a coincidence that the two of you ended up at the same place that night. He gathered up the nerve to approach you that night, thinking about what you said as to how you would like to be approached by a man, ready to put himself out there.

His breath hitches as he sees the little white dress you’re wearing and his palms sweat a bit when he approaches. Overall he feels like a kid trying to ask the prettiest girl for a dance, terrifying yet exhilarating all the same.

“Dr. Y/L/N, funny meeting you here,” Elvis would say in his best attempt to sound casual.

“Mr. Presley, how are you?” you would say, surprise evident in your eyes but the small smile on your face genuine as any.

“I’m doin’ just fine.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad.”

“Are you here alone?” he gently probes, trying to figure out a way to get the rest to leave the table if he can get you to join him.

“No, my date is just in the restroom.” you say pointing in the general direction of the bathroom.

Something almost akin to betrayal flashes through him in that moment, but he quickly tries to stamp it down as even he realizes that he had no right to feel that way. “Well, have a good night.” he says, trying to be as amiable as possible.

“You too,” you say with an uneasy look in your eyes.

Gorgeous girl like her, it’d be crazy for her not to have a date, he thinks, sitting back down with his buddies. Not a single one of them acknowledges what just happened and somehow it feels all the worse. Still it doesn’t sit right with him, the idea of you being out of your office and looking so beautiful and only to waste it on some undeserving mook.

But… in all the months he’s been seeing you, he ain’t ever seen a ring on your finger, so he doubts it’s that serious. He can’t see your table, which he’s thankful for, because it at least removes the temptation to keep looking your way. But with how sparsely populated the restaurant is at this point he can just barely make out your voice, and he can clearly hear your laugh. It’s such a beautiful thing to hear, and it takes him fully out of the conversation he’s having with Sonny, which pretty much makes all of them take notice of how weird he’s acting but they won’t say anything about it.

But quickly bitterness takes over in his mouth when he hears the accompanying chuckle from your faceless companion. Especially when he’s only ever awarded small huffs of amusement in your office while that motherfucker can get you to laugh like that.

… He really shouldn’t be thinking like this…

It practically spits in the face of all you’ve been doing for him to go back to his old jealous ways. He drinks some of the wine to calm himself down and earnestly tries to go back to the talk he was having.

He does try, but by the third glass in, he becomes a bit distracted by the wine. He’s not usually much of a fan of the stuff, but even he can appreciate a good bottle when he has it. Not too sweet but just enough to mask the burn of alcohol, while pairing well with his steak.

All he’s really thinking at that moment is how much you would probably appreciate it too. So he flags down the stuffy waiter and insists that a similar bottle be brought to your table, on him of course.

He doesn’t really think too much of it, and later as Charlie’s doing his best impression of Parker to a host of hoots and hollers from the rest, does the waiter return. “Your friends send their thanks for the wine,” he says simply walking away.

So you took it… he finds it very interesting.

If there was nothing there, you could have said no and he would’ve put it behind him. But you accepted the wine… there had to be something more to it. Especially since you were on a “date” with another man, and what woman accepts a drink from another man if she wasn’t at the very least interested.

As he leaves, there is a part of him that aches leaving you behind, especially with another man, and the only solace he takes is that you accepting that bottle of wine had to mean something.

His home feels achingly empty as he walks in, even as he’s surrounded by his buddies. He’s trying to follow your advice with the whole set sleep schedule thing so it’s only midnight by the time he walks through his front door.

Even if come Monday you flat out reject him, he tries to content himself to have you just be his therapist. How maybe even after you graduate him out you can still continue being friends outside of your office and he won’t have to lose you as well.

Still all of that rings hollow that night as he recalls furiously jerking himself off in his bed, tears streaming down his face and your name on his lips, as he thought of you in that dress. What’s worse is that the fantasy he has of you is not even necessarily erotic, and by most standards, it’s practically mundane. But it’s precisely because of how normal it is that it feels so foreign yet nonetheless attractive to him, and thus far more dangerous than any wet dream he’s had of you before.

He imagines bringing you to Graceland from the restaurant. How you would strip yourself of that dress, effortlessly seductive as you swap it for a nightie, and how you would get a little bashful as you notice him staring before crawling into bed beside him. But unlike other dreams he has of you, you simply lay back and allow him to bury his face in your chest. “What’s on your mind Elvis?” you would ask him.

He can almost feel the scrape of your nails on his scalp, as you listen to his woes. The slight rise and fall of your chest as he rests his head on it. How all of your ministrations are comforting and relaxing rather than teasing or playful, like your content to simply sit and be with him alone rather than doing anything else. Like you’re there for him, not for Elvis Presley.

He wanted that. He wanted you.

And now he has you.

And nothing will ever take you away.

“Mmm, I remember this,” he hums to you while wrapping his arms around your waist as you put the finishing touches to your face. You preen under his attention, and wriggle a little as his fingers brush the hem of your skirt, both of you practically itching for a repeat of that first concert.

While in general he would have preferred you wore something he gave you, he has no doubt that the dress is not gonna survive the night once you get home.

“Where you headin’ lookin’ this good?” he asks, trying not to sound too sore about it.

You sigh as you put down your brush, squaring your shoulders as though you’re about to step into a battlefield. “Ma’s throwing me a Bridal shower remember,” you answer.

Yeah he does remember, but he honestly wishes you hadn’t. Though he can hardly begrudge you for being less than ecstatic about your party, as he also doesn’t want you to go but for very different reasons. Try as he might, he couldn’t justify going with you, and just the idea of you being out of reach made his stomach uneasy. His only solace in the situation was that he was able to convince your Mama to not invite any of your old college girlfriends, as the last thing he needs is for any of them to be putting ideas in your head again.

Besides, it marks the first time in awhile since he’s gotten all of his buddies together at once, so he’s determined to enjoy the night as much as he can without you. He thinks he’s had his fill of the bachelor life, so his party ain’t nothing too crazy all things considered.

For as much as he did clean house once he booted Parker out, there were still those in his circle he could do without personally but still served their purposes well.

He’s made it clear he won’t stand for any of them talking any kind of nonsense about you, but that doesn’t stop them from bemoaning the “life” he’s giving up all in order to get hitched yet again. The partying, the girls, the drugs he would give up ten times over for you.

By midnight he’s even close to calling it for the night hoping that you’ll be home soon.

For as much as they rag on him for becoming so domesticated he’s well aware of the fact that they are nonetheless happy for your presence in his life. He knows that while some of them are genuinely glad that he’s now better for his own sake, he’s all too aware that some of them only “care” because their very livelihoods depend on him.

Not you though. What you gave up when you thought you were protecting him, you proved yourself to be far more caring and loyal than anyone he’s ever met. And he rests easier knowing you’re watching out for him, even at a great cost to yourself.

It almost makes him feel guilty for what he had to do.

Almost.

And, as though summoned, you make your way through the front door. The second you walk in, he loses interest in just about everything else in the room. You look like you just got through twelve rounds with Muhammad Ali.

He already knows you don’t got the best relationship with your folks but understands you couldn’t get out of going without raising questions. But if it went bad it saves him the trouble from having to talk you out of visiting them too often.

Truly it makes his heart soar the way you light up a bit upon seeing him and he hopes

And then it goes to shit.

He sees you lazily look around the room, probably trying to figure out a tactful way to get rid of them all. But then your brow furrows, and you give the entire room a once over again, and then you seem to look intently at every single person in the room as though you’re tallying them up. And once you finish that, it only seems to distress you more.

You’ve got that same look in your eye when you’re reading your mysteries, with your brow furrowed and your hands to your lips. He’s confused as to what may be going on in that pretty little head of yours, until he looks around and remembers that ALL of his buddies are here now.

Something that shouldn’t be if he had really handled the ones that had apparently squealed the two of you out to Parker.

Huh… you figured it out just like that, he thinks. This is honestly what he gets for choosing a smart one like you, but he can't say he’s not a little proud that you were able to do so. Besides it’s not much of a choice when it’s meant to be.

He takes one last puff off his cigar before stamping it out into the accompanying ashtray, after all no use in trying to pretend anymore. You're cracking a case wide open in your head and he figures there ain’t no point in drawing it out for much longer.

“Hey Charlie,” he draws out, and your eyes snap back to him, apparently terrified to be proven right.

“Yeah EP?” he answers, always the good friend who would go along with any plan regardless of how he personally felt about it if it meant getting him back on track.

“Why don’tcha do that voice,” he says smiling a bit as his friends goes a bit ashen at the request. “Always gets a good laugh.”

Charlie thinks he’s subtle when he steals a glance your way. He is not.

“You sure ‘bout that EP,” he asks, nervously swallowing, his eyes begging to not have to do this. Which gets the attention of all of them, and some of them shift uncomfortably at what’s about to go down, downing the last of their drinks and nervously gathering their things hoping to make a quick getaway. The ones who don’t know are looking at Charlie anticipating a good laugh but they quickly pick up on how worried he looks and quickly follow suit, figuring nothing good would come of this.

Elvis only has eyes for you though, morbidly curious as to how you’re going to react, the same way your eyes are firmly fixed on him, no doubt fearing that you’re right. He almost calls it off at that point, but call it what you want he believes that once this secret is over and done with, the two of you will be all the stronger for it and there will be absolutely nothing to hold you back.

“Who am I talkin’ to?” Elvis asks Charlie all the while making full eye contact with you. Contrary to what you may believe he doesn’t in fact enjoy hurting you with these hard truths, he’s just not as skilled as you in breaking them to you in a more delicate manner.

Charlie lets out a deep, tired sigh before, without any more preamble, he says, “You’re talking to the man that gave the world Elvis Presley,” in his most perfect Parker impression.

Your face fully falls.

Once upon a time you had told him how sometimes people need to be guided by another to get what they wanted. And he knows for a fact that you wanted him, it was only your damn job and it’s rules that held you back. That’s where his head was at after that fucking anniversary party.

You are the only woman alive who can proudly say she’s broken his heart not once, not twice, but three times. The first time being when you threatened to switch him to another therapist, but luckily he saw right through that ploy.

The next time when you had the gall to lie to his face about where you were going. When you started speaking about Saturday, he could feel his heart flutter a bit, truly believing you were gonna invite him to meet your folks. Even now he could imagine how it would have felt to be offered such a thing, to be brought home and be introduced as your boyfriend proper. Even after you brought up your friends he could have dealed with that if only it would bring him much more into your life. Only for you to bring him back down to Earth with your refusal to bring him.

The last time was when you couldn’t say you loved him back. God was that a kick to the chest because he may not be the smartest man, but even he knew that it meant one of two things. Either you wanted to say it and you couldn’t for whatever reason… or you didn’t love him and you were just feeling particularly guilty about it that day. ‘

He couldn’t accept that though. Something in your life was preventing you from saying it back and really he knew there could only be one thing. Was it really so monstrous to remove it if it left you feeling like this?

You love him, he knows that you do and you only need a push in the right direction in order to admit it.

And if you didn’t… he couldn’t afford to think like that.

So he had to push through. Had to do what was necessary. Had to believe you love him.

Had to believe he was still worth loving.

He knew words meant nothing at the end of the day (you taught him as much) he had to find a way to prove you did love him and that you weren’t in it for yourself.

The only question was how.

After he sees you leave that place, looking devastated, it takes everything within him to not take you in his arms. But he has a goal in mind and he has to figure out where exactly you're at mentally in order to push through.

For all he knows you’re on your way to pack up your office right now, but he has to be sure.

Red tries to stop him before he gets out of the car, but ends up backing off, with a single glare his way. He waits for a bit before approaching the modest looking house after you had left, and knocks on the door, and once it opens he has to remind himself who he’s doing this for, and knock that fucker’s lights out.

Even when he has never met them before, people weirdly enough have a lot of trust in him. And Mark Whatever his last name is, proves to be no different. Elvis greets him with his first name and a quick hug as though they were old friends and lets himself into the house as Mark still gapes at the doorway.

He finds a den with two identical mugs on a coffee table, and he finds a very familiar lipstick color on one of them (how could he not there’s still a ring of it around his cock). Mark shuffles his way into the sitting room, absolutely struck dumb by Elvis' presence, and Elvis finds it hard to believe that he ever saw him as a rival for your love.

Mark notices the mugs still on the coffee table and makes a motion to grab them, stammering out an apology about the mess. Before he could do so, Elvis notices the light color from your mug and hides a self satisfied smirk at that. Where once you only took your coffee black, your tastes have now become closer aligned to his own.

Elvis puts a hand down on the mug as he says, “Why dontcha take a seat right down there Mark?” It’s kind of pathetic really seeing a man take orders from a stranger in his own house, but it serves Elvis’ purposes all the better. And with the way Mark awkwardly takes a seat it’s apparent that he is still flustered at Elvis’ presence in his den.

Good, he thinks. Should keep him honest.

“Wh-what’s this about?” Mark asks, uneasily.

“It’s about our good friend, Y/N of course,” he says as though it were so obvious.

“O-Oh, uh, she was over here not too long ago,” he stammered out, before his brows furrowed even more confused. “How do you know her?”

“Through her daddy,” Elvis lies coolly. “I don’t know if you noticed but she’s been a bit outta sorts recently. And I’m hopin’ you could help me figure out what’s been botherin’ her.”

“I-I don’t think it’s my place to say,” Mark sputters out.

“C’mon Matt,” he says, leaning forward just a little bit to really sell the concern. “You can talk to me ‘bout this,” echoing your own words from way back when.

If he noticed the wrong name he didn’t say anything as he nervously looks down at his own hands, before muttering out a soft “she’s been having some trouble with a patient of hers.”

“Huh…” he says, raising his brows a bit at this. “She tell you who?”

“She would never tell me anything like that,” he quickly defends and Elvis relaxes a bit. “But ummm… she-she just needed some advice as to how to handle this patient. And I-I let her know that whatever consequences she imagines would happen, are not as bad as the reality. So it would be better to act now as opposed to later.”

“Hmmm…” he hums, and just like that he can already feel you slipping through his fingers. But he holds on to that look you had leaving. How distressed you looked at the idea of having to drop him all together, but he also knows you’re a tough one that can make the right decisions, even when they’re hard, and that’s why he loves you so. “Tell me Max, what would you do if you were in her situation?” he asks even though he already figures the answer.

“Personally… I would’ve dropped the patient a long time ago,” he says without any remorse. He says this next part so coldly that he finds it hard to imagine that you have ever had anything in common with him save for your chosen field. “Not just because it is the right thing to do, but because, for as little information as I have about the situation, this patient is simply not worth all the grief they’re causing her.”

But it’s not me, Elvis wanted to defend. It’s her work, if it weren’t for that gettin’ in the way she wouldn’t have to be so goddamn worried all the time.

“And did you tell her that?” Elvis asks, worried as to what may be brewing in that little head of yours if this son of a bitch has been whispering in your ear.

“God no,” the professor says. “I told her to do what she can live with. But I know her,” he says leaning back, sure in his opinion, though unaware that these words perhaps just saved his life. “She’s gonna make the right choice on her own or it won’t mean much.”

For all his degrees, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, is all Elvis can really think in that moment. He can’t possibly even begin to understand the kind of relationship you have with him, and how in fact he is the right choice for you, as you’re his.

If a baby was about to walk into a pool, would he just let it happen because it was it’s choice? That’s downright evil in his book. Sometimes you need to make the decision for others and step in when they’re about to make the wrong ones. And if that’s what he has to do to for you then goddamnit he will.

“Well, I think I best get going,” Elvis would say after contemplating this man's words. He knew how impressionable you can be, so he needs to act fast to undo whatever poison this asshole put in your head.

“O-oh of course,” he stutters. “Umm.. thank you for stopping by today.”

“Now Mark, that fancy title you got, tells me you’re a smart man, right?” Elvis says a hand on his shoulder as he makes his way to the door.

“...yes?” he answers tentatively.

“Now this story, I think it best you keep it to yourself.” he says, and he watches the man's brow furrowed in confusion. “Afterall I don’t think you wanna be known in your field for blabbin’ anything to anyone who just walks in your door.”

“Of course not,” he says uneasily. “Thank you for your concern for Y/N, Elvis. Hopefully she’ll be back to normal soon.”

“Course,” Elvis would reply, holding out his hand for the professor, which Mark takes. “And please, call me Mr. Presley,” and on that confusing note he turns around and heads back to the car.

He stews on that asshole’s words the whole way home, no one daring to talk about it until he did. He wants to trust

But he knows if he lets this stand and doesn’t interfere, you’re going to make the wrong choice. Ultimately he decides to make the choice for you for your own good. He’s let chance rule his life for far too long, so he’s gotta make his own luck.

He cycles through just about everything he knows about you and tries to figure out how it could possibly help him.

And then he remembers how you once told him how your worst fear is seeing your patients fall back to their old ways, especially with those who abused them.

Just the thought of going back to Parker makes him sick to his stomach. For as much as he loves you, he’s not willing to do anything that will bring that bastard back into the fold, and he doubts you would want that either. But he almost resolves himself to do it until he’s pulling into the driveway and sees Charlie’s car.

And then he’s reminded that Charlie always did do a pretty spot on Parker impression. Especially if you ain’t ever heard that old toad talk before. And finally an awful plan began to form in his head.

It’s sneaky and underhanded, and it literally leaves a bad taste in his mouth that could only be chased away by that Wine. That sweet taste on his tongue reminds him of that first night in your office. He remembers how you cried so sweetly for him. How you pushed him away so overwhelmed with what you felt for him. How excited you got when he called you by your name. How you called him daddy for the first time.

What he remembers most of all is how he had to apply some pressure to you in order to break through that tough professional wall you’ve set between the two of you. But it was worth that sweet sweet outcome.

And if he gets the answer he wants from you, it would be worth it yet again.

You wanted him to take charge then, and you want him to take charge now.

So this is something he has to do and this is his cross to bear.

Ideally you never had to know.

Once the call was over Charlie could hardly look him in the eye, and practically scrambles to get the hell out of there once given the signal. He feels a twinge of guilt and hopes that this be the last morally bad thing he asks of the man. But with the way you’ve been able to keep him on the straight and narrow since you’ve met him, he thinks it will be.

Still he welcomes the solitude, knowing that this is undoubtedly going to be the worst minutes of his life, and the only one he could even fathom spending them with is the one he’s currently waiting on. He knows you well enough that you wouldn’t be one to sit on this for too long, so tonight he’s going to learn one of two things about you: either you tell him about “Parker” and try to help save him from the rat bastard… or you say yes to “Parker” and you prove yourself to be like the rest.

He tries to chase that nasty feeling out of his head with the wine, and the sweet taste of it reminds him of that first night with you. How for all of your fighting and protesting you still gave in, how you kept coming back even as he knowingly put you through the wringer. How you would settle just as easily in his arms as he did in yours.

If that ain't love, then I guess I don’t know what the hell is, he remembers thinking. You’re the last hope he has to believe that he can be loved for him, not for Elvis Presley. To love him through his fears, his hopes, his anxiousness, his temper, his jealousy, his dreams, all of it.

And his faith in you is rewarded as you as his phone rings within minutes.

Where most people would blow up in a rage and scream and curse till their hoarse about something like this, you’re not like most people. No you’re far too composed to ever do that. Growing up in a house where your wants and feelings were second to everything will do that to you he guesses.

You’re like that with everyone… except for him. You freely express all your thoughts and opinions with him, never afraid to give him the business when necessary but always honest in a way few people in his life are these days.

You’re at your most vulnerable with him. You’re so used to hiding how you feel for others' benefits, and he’s glad you don’t have to do that with him. It was a long hard road to get to this point but goddamn if it wasn't worth every moment.

He’s almost… giddy knowing that you’re going to be mad and he’s gonna be the only witness to it.

But for all your anger and fury, righteous or not. Ain’t none of it will change the fact that at the end of the day you still chose him.

And even as you wordlessly turn and walk almost robotically up the stairs he’s confident that you’re going to choose him again.

He barely has time to get the words out before the rest of them are in a frenzy to get out of the house, apparently unwilling to stick around for the fireworks. He doesn’t know what they're so squeamish about, he knows for a fact that they would’ve done worse if he asked them to.

He trots up the stairs, maybe going a little slower, wanting to really rile you up. When he gets to your shared bedroom, you’re packing up a storm.

It’s honestly cute that you think you’re going anywhere.

A part of him knows he should feel more guilty about it. He does feel some guilt of course he’s not a monster, but it does feel roughly the same amount of guilt if he had broken a vase or something. It felt bad in the moment, and he tried his damndest to hide it, but ultimately it didn’t mean much.

Sure you had been upset those first few weeks after the story dropped but eventually you did get over it and finally learned to enjoy your newfound life as his girl. Yes it cost you your job, but in the grand scheme of things it didn’t matter much.

And if he’s being honest it only really mattered in getting you to meet him.

Most people would be either on their knees begging for forgiveness from you or continuing to feign ignorance to all of it.

But he’s not most people. He knows what he did and he knows he ain’t got nothing to be sorry over.

“Can you believe them Hollywood producers ain’t never wanted me in no serious movies?” he says casually, now that there are no more secrets between either of you.

You throw a bottle of wine at him.

-------------------------

Ending Note: As Battie as my witness I’ve had this twist planned since the beginning. It’s up to you if I did enough to justify this choice but I am happy with the results.

Taglist

@venus-haze @djsjs13949 @ilovehobi101 @butlerslut @richardslady121 @giabelia @sydneyyyya @meetme0614 @tacozebra051 @myradiaz @thelifes-world @maythesunshineagain @rakitirakiti @lostteenagetale @j-v-9-2 @eliseinmemphis @dkayfixates @immi547 @thatbanditqueen @marriedtoeddie @cuteejeno @itlover8000 @isthlsfate @mgparker @thatbanditqueen @softsatnin @literally-just-elvis-fics @adaydreamaway08 @airyx0x0 @domoron @angelborn-1998

381 notes · View notes

fleckficgirl · 1 year ago

Text

Heartthrob | Arthur Fleck x reader 💗 CHAPTER 10

Summary: Attempting to conceal her checkered past, a young dancer in Gotham (Y/N) lands a job at Ha-Ha’s and finds herself increasingly drawn to a shy, lonely clown named Arthur Fleck.

Warnings: This chapter contains mugging, memory loss, traumatic brain injury. This fic as a whole contains sex, language, violence, mental illness.

Word Count: 3164

Chapter List: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Author’s Note: I’m back! Obviously, it took me sooo long to figure out how to write this next chapter, but I finally got it together. I really appreciate your patience in the meantime & hope you enjoy reading it. The plan is to post more regularly soon (Chapter 11 is almost done).

“Makeup is an art,” Chantelle and Tina had explained to you the night before. “Think of your face as a canvas.”

Despite all their well-intentioned beauty coaching, the cold, hard truth was you still had no idea what the hell you were doing - you couldn’t even keep the differences between moisturizer, foundation and concealer straight in your brain. And after twenty minutes of attempting to “paint” your face like the natural-born Rembrandt they were convinced you were, you’d stared back at your reflection in the mirror and decided you looked like a clown…and not in a sexy-Arthur-Fleck kinda way.

Exasperated, you’d washed everything off, opting instead for a tiny bit of mascara, lip gloss and powder.

But then there was the issue of your hair. You’d burned your fingers on Tina’s flat iron before managing to get things somewhat under control. But as soon as you stepped out onto the street the rain began to fall, causing your already-unruly mane to frizz up completely by the time you reached the subway.

Chantelle’s handpicked outfit, however, remained the only unblemished element of tonight's ensemble: her tight-fitting angora sweater did things for your non-existent cleavage you’d never imagined possible. You’d be sure to thank her profusely later…even though she thought you were going out with someone else tonight.

You’d never cared how you looked in front of a guy before…but Arthur Fleck wasn’t just a guy. To say he’d gotten under your skin was, perhaps, the understatement of your life: you were becoming crazy about the man.

You didn't know how you were going to survive this date. You could barely hold it together in Arthur’s presence without wanting to reach out and smother him with affection, and the kiss between you earlier today had only solidified your deepest desires. You wanted Arthur in so many ways…ways you didn’t even understand yet. It reminded you of the first time you’d ever rode the Giant Dipper at Amusement Mile: the sensation of your stomach flying up into your throat as you went over that first terrifying drop…a disconcerting mix of fear and exhilaration. Was this what being in love felt like?

***

The bouncer at Pogo’s frowned as you handed him your ID.

“Are you…um…are you alright, miss?” he asked, concern in his eyes.

You were thrown off by the question. “Of course. Why?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…have you looked in a mirror recently?”

You shook your head. The jerk was actually making fun of how bad your hair and makeup had turned out. People in this city really didn’t know how to act.

“Wow, you’re hilarious,” you rolled your eyes at him, snatching back your ID. “Can I please go inside now? My friend’s about to go on.”

You pushed past the rude bouncer and entered the club, scanning the room feverishly for an empty seat. Spotting one parallel to the center of the stage, your eyes lit up and you rushed over to claim it. As you sat down, a strange chill ran up your spine as you slowly began to realize: everyone was staring at you. Faces of concern and mockery swam around you, and you weren’t sure why.

Oh shit, you thought. Do I have something on my face?

Unfortunately, you hadn’t brought a compact mirror (Tina and Chantelle had given you a five minute lecture on the importance of always carrying on in your purse), so you couldn’t check. And you couldn’t get up to go to the bathroom because then you’d lose your seat. You shifted uncomfortably in your chair, then glanced at your watch and saw the glass was cracked.

Weird. You hadn’t remembered smashing it against anything on the way over.

Your concerns about your appearance, however, were quickly dissolved as the current act wrapped and the emcee took the mic.

“This next comic describes himself as a lifelong Gotham resident who from a young age was told that ‘his purpose in life was to bring laughter and joy into this cold, dark world.’ Umm. Okay? Please help me welcome Arthur Fleck!”

You applauded along with the rest of the half-faded crowd as relief washed over you. Thank God you hadn’t missed him. As Arthur took the stage, your heart began to throb again. There were simply simply no words to describe how incredible he looked tonight. His red vest. The crisp, white button-down shirt underneath it. The matching slacks.

And his hair. His hair.

You were certain his hair was going to be the death of you. How was it possible that you and that gorgeous hair inhabited the same planet without the entire world imploding?

Arthur squinted out at the crowd before speaking. You knew he was searching for you, needing to see you in the audience, needing to know you were there for him. And you were. When the two of you locked eyes, he smiled. You smiled back at him and everything else fell away. It was you and Arthur again. And nothing else in this cold, dark world mattered.

You didn’t care that Arthur had a laughing episode at the beginning of his act. You didn’t care that basically all his jokes fell flat, either. You didn’t care about any of that. All you cared about was how proud you were of him. So proud, you felt like you could burst into a million pieces.

When he finished his set, you leapt to your feet, clapping and screaming. Arthur blushed from the stage, embarrassed…and pleased. Everyone was staring at you, then back at Arthur, then back at you in dazed confusion. Two weirdo peas in a pod…and proud.

“We’re gonna take a short break,” the emcee announced.

A moment later, you and Arthur found each other at the back of the club.

“You were amazing, Arthur!” you exclaimed as you threw your arms around him.

“I'm so glad you came tonight…” he hummed into your ear. Of course, your depraved mind twisted the meaning of those two words in your head, and you found yourself having to stifle a blushing smile. You felt your body quaver with excitement at being next to him once again.

“Wait a minute…” Arthur pulled back to look at you, shock and concern flooding his face.

“Y/N, what…what happened to you?”

You blinked. “What? Nothing happened to me.”

“You’re…you’re hurt.” Arthur looked you up and down, then lifted your hands to eye-level. Bruises in the shape of what looked like fingers and fingertips lined the insides of your wrists. You frowned at the sight, utterly confused.

“Y/N, who…who did this to you?”

“I’m fine!” you insisted. “I mean…I have a slight headache, but, y’know, it’s probably just the rain.”

“Y/N, look at me. Tell me what happened. Can you remember?”

It took a minute for your brain to register Arthur’s question, which you realized was a little strange.

“Well,” you inhaled, trying hard to formulate your thoughts. “I got on the subway…I know that. And I took it all the way to…well, whatever this stop was near here, you know? And then I got off the train and went up the stairs…and then…” you looked up into Arthur’s beautiful eyes. “And then I was here. Watching you perform for the very first time. And I’m so proud of you, Arthur!” you squealed as if you’d seen him for the first time tonight all over again.

“You don’t remember anything else? You must have hit your head.”

“I'm fine!”

“Y/N,” Arthur’s worried eyes blinked at you. “I don’t think you are. I think I need to take you to the hospital.”

“But it’s our big date!” you wailed. “I got all dressed up and everything!”

At that moment, a few Wall Street bro types brushed past and snickered at Arthur.

“Nice set, freak. In case you didn’t get the memo: you’re supposed to tell the jokes and the audience is supposed to laugh…not the other way around.”

"He has a laughing condition, you assholes!" you snarled at them without hesitation.

To everyone’s surprise, the bros paused, thrown off by the fact you’d called them out.

“Sorry…” Arthur interjected, glancing at the dudes apologetically. “She’s…she’s not feeling well.”

Arthur shot you a desperate please-shut-your-mouth-before-you-get-us-both-killed look, but you could see there was a tiny, triumphant smile curling up his lips underneath it. Still, the words were flying out of your mouth and there wasn’t much you could do to stop them.

“Yeah, I’m not feeling well,” you continued loudly, glowering at them. “Maybe if assholes would shut their fat faces and stop acting ignorant, I’d feel better.”

“Okay, you’re coming with me now!” Arthur wrapped his arm around your shoulders and scooted you towards the door. You looked over your shoulder to see them staring after you, dumbfounded. The sight of it made you laugh.

“Y/N,” Arthur pulled you into him as soon as you were outside. “I’m taking you to Gotham Hospital. We’ve gotta get you checked out.”

“No, Arthur!” you protested. You didn’t exactly know why you were so opposed to the idea, but your first instinct was to protest.

“I’m worried about you,” he emphasized.

“I’m fine!”

“Y/N, please. Please? Just do it for me. Just so I know you’re okay.”

“Okay.”

You’d switched it up so quickly, Arthur blinked in disbelief. He cleared his throat, nodding.

“Uh…okay. Good. Let’s go.”

“This is not where I expected to end up tonight,” you lamented. Arthur sat next to you, a clipboard given to him by the nurse at the front desk in his lap. He was trying to fill out your paperwork for you.

“Um. Your last name is…L/N right?”

“Yeah” You smiled at him. “How’d you know?”

Arthur blushed. “I…might have looked at your timecard. I was…curious about you. This was before…you know…we became...closer.”

“That’s so sweet! I looked at your timecard, too!”

Arthur stifled a laugh. “What’s your date of birth?”

He patiently wrote in all the answers and brought the completed forms back up to the desk.

“I’m surprised there aren’t more people here,” you observed, looking around at the handful of other patients. “It is a Friday night, after all.”

“It’s only ten o’clock,” Arthur reasoned. “My guess is things get crazier out there in a couple hours or so.”

“I feel like things are flying out of my mouth tonight without any filter,” you blurted. “And I’m not even that angry.”

“I feel like they are, too,” Arthur agreed. “But, that’s okay. I’m glad you agreed to come here. I’m…I’m still worried about you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, leaning in. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

Arthur looked a little startled, but he nodded.

“How do you get your hair to look so good all the time?”

Arthur’s eyebrows arched and he laughed.

“I'm serious!”

“No…I'm sorry,” he demurred, looking down at the tile floor. “It's just that nobody’s ever said that to me before.”

“Nobody ever said your hair looks incredible?” you asked. “Like it's the most gorgeous hair in the world? Nobody ever approached you to do shampoo commercials?”

“Maybe that's my true calling,” he joked.

“What shampoo do you use?”

"That's a personal question," Arthur teased as the door to the back of the ER swung open.

“L/N? F/N L/N?” the nurse called out.

You leapt to your feet. “Oh! That’s me.”

“Do you want me to wait here?” Arthur asked.

“Are you kidding?” You extended your hand and pulled him up. “Of course I want you to come. You’re my emotional support clown.”

After weighing you, taking your blood pressure, asking if you had any allergies to any medications and all the other boring details that entailed a medical visit, the nurse set you up in an examination room and read through your paperwork, pursing her lips as she centered in on the handwritten scrawl (Arthur’s handwriting of course) that explained why you’d come to the ER in the first place.

“It says here you…think you hit your head?”

“He thinks I hit my head,” you clarified, jerking said head towards Arthur. “I’m still not sure. There’s a big gap in my memory from tonight and I don’t know why.”

“There are bruises on her arms,” Arthur added. “She came to meet me and she looked…disheveled. Like someone had…”

He paused. The nurse looked you up and down.

“You don’t remember what happened to cause the bruises?”

You shrugged. “I can be clumsy sometimes.”

“You’re not…that clumsy,” Arthur murmured under his breath. “I mean,” he looked up at the nurse. “She’s a dancer. She’s…one of the most graceful people I’ve ever seen.”

“Arthur, that is so sweet!” you exclaimed.

The nurse shot you both a skeptical look, then smiled. “Your husband obviously cares for you a great deal.”

“Oh,” Arthur blushed. “I’m…not her-”

“Yes, he’s a wonderful husband!” you interjected, flashing him a slightly maniacal smile. “So protective of me. I couldn’t ask for a better one.”

“It sounds like you might have taken a fall,” the nurse continued, jotting down a few notes on your chart. “But the bruises on your wrists do look like they were caused by someone else’s hands.”

“My watch is broken, too,” you blurted.

“I’m wondering if maybe you were mugged. It happens to women in Gotham all the time, unfortunately.”

“But I still have all my money,” you pointed out, opening up your purse to show off your untouched wallet.

“Maybe you fought them off,” Arthur suggested. It wasn’t a completely outlandish notion. You were known to bring out the feistiness if the wrong people pushed your buttons.

“In any case, we’ll run some tests to check for concussion and other injuries.”

The nurse opened a drawer and handed you a light blue paper robe. “You can put this on. I’ll inform the doctor and he’ll check you over.”

“Thank you,” Arthur said.

“Of course. He should be by in just a minute.”

“What a nice lady,” you said to Arthur after she left you alone. “Don’t always meet people like that around here.”

“Very nice,” Arthur agreed. He cleared his throat. “Um…do you want me to leave, or…turn around while you get changed?”

You blinked, the reality of everything that had happened tonight finally hitting you.

“I just can’t believe this is how tonight turned out.”

“What do you mean?” Arthur asked softly.

“I had a whole outfit planned, Arthur! And my hair and makeup. I wanted to impress you and look beautiful for you tonight.”

“Y/N…” Arthur stood up to face you. “You are beautiful. No matter what. All I care about is that you’re okay.”

You sighed, moved by his sweet words, but you still felt utterly crestfallen and defeated. “I ruined our first date. And your big stand-up debut. I wanted tonight to be perfect so bad…”

“You didn’t ruin it,” Arthur interrupted. “I…” he paused. “Of course I wish none of this had happened to you. This city is…awful. In so many ways.” He paused, taking your hand into his. “But…I just love being with you. It doesn’t matter what we’re doing, as long as we’re together.”

You wanted to kiss him again, but suddenly the door flew open and a man in a white coat suddenly stood before you both.

“I hear somebody got banged up tonight.”

Dr. White’s bedside manner was on the complete other end of the spectrum of your nice nurse’s from a few minutes before, but you’d come to expect that from men with MDs. After performing the perfunctory tests of shining a light in your eyes, examining your body for additional trauma or bruising (none was found) and asking you a few routine questions, he announced his evaluation:

“My guess is you got mugged. Maybe the muggers chickened out before they could actually…you know…mug you. It does look like you’ve got a concussion.”

“What can you do for that?”Arthur asked, concerned.

The doctor snorted at what he obviously deemed a dumb question. “Not much. Just wait it out. Don’t go to sleep for a while.”

“What happens if I fall asleep?” you asked.

“You could die.”

“Oh.”

“Your brain’ll heal itself,” the doctor continued. “Might take a little time. Just try to take it easy and don’t be in places where this could happen to you again.”

“You mean the entire city?” you asked, raising an annoyed eyebrow at him. You knew what he meant, but the slight insinuation that getting mugged was somehow your fault didn’t sit great with you.

“What can I say?” Dr. White shook his head and shrugged. “Welcome to Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here all my life,” you informed him dryly. “Gotham’s a jungle.”

“Then welcome to the jungle.”

“Are you hungry?” Arthur asked in the lobby of the hospital. It was past midnight. “There’s a diner down the street people seem to like.” He paused. “That is…if it’s not too late for you.”

The way you saw it, you’d stay up all night with Arthur if he’d have you.

“Let’s go to the diner. I could really go for a cheeseburger."

Arthur laughed. “Okay.”

The rain had stopped and the air outside felt crisp and freshly-washed. For a brief moment, it made you forget that the garbage strike in Gotham had just entered its seventh week.

You and Arthur moved through the crowded sidewalk together, stumbling through the endless obstacles of people and garbage. A startling headline caught your eye as you walked past a newsstand, and you stopped in your tracks to read it:

KILLER CLOWN ON THE LOOSE. LATEST NEWS ON THE MURDERS, PAGE TWO.

Beneath was a drawing of a vampiric clown.

“Can you believe that?” you asked.

Arthur paused alongside you, his eyes wide as he soaked in the headline.

“I watched this on the news last night."

Arthur nodded, pulling out and lighting a cigarette. “They worked at Wayne Enterprises. All three of them.”

You rolled your eyes. “That figures.”

Arthur cocked his head to one side. “What do you mean?”

You continued, lowering your voice. “Between you and me, I actually knew one of them. Back when I was still at college. He was a complete asshole, and that’s putting it nicely.” You sighed. “And if I had to guess, those ‘friends’ of his were cut from the exact same cloth. But it looks like he finally picked the wrong person to fuck with. And I can’t say I’m shedding any tears.”

Arthur nodded slowly, taking in your words.

“I’m sorry,” you stopped yourself. “You must think I’m crazy for talking like this.”

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“Three less pricks in Gotham City,” you quipped. “Only a million more to go!”

Arthur threw back his head and laughed. You took it as a good sign: despite the traumatic brain injury and the chaotic night you’d shared, his smile still made you go weak at the knees.

🤍🩷 Thanks for reading. Visit my Masterlist for all my Fleck writing, including future chapters of Heartthrob.

💕💕 If you enjoy my writing and find it valuable, please consider leaving a tip to support my work. Thank you! @ghastella xx 💕💕

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck imagine #joker arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #joker #joker fanfiction #joker 2019 #joaquin phoenix joker #joaquin phoenix #slow burn #friends to lovers #age gap relationship #gotham city is awful #phoenix!joker x reader

128 notes · View notes