#in my story in my head she has to cut it short for some reason and it’s a shocker to everyone who’s only ever knew her with long hair

[the-nosy-neighbor]

There is no such thing as a short answer with me. So sorry about the length--

Sure thing. I was writing about Khepri as a mythological equivalent of Frank. I wrote a thing about Julie having a lot in common with a Greek flower deity (I think it is called "Julie as a Flower Goddess"). When looking for an equivalent for Frank, I came across Khepri, which was a deity that took the form of a dung beetle.

The main comparison for me was that the deity has really strong connection to the ideas of darkness and light, death and rebirth. The beetle rolls the sun across the sky until night, which then sees him roll it through the underworld (extinguished). Essentially, he and the sun dies and are reborn every day, and while Khepri isn't considered a sun deity, he is very close.

From the bit I have read about the myth of Isis and Osiris, they were twins who fell in love in utero. Osiris's brother kills him and cuts him into 14 pieces, which Isis puts back together and uses magic to bring him to life long enough for her to become pregnant with their son. (Some accounts say that she didn't find his genitals, which is odd.)

Osiris is associated with the sun and Isis with the moon (it seems most ancient myths assign the sun to the male and the moon to the female). Both were also considered to be agricultural deities.

Most images depict them as so:

That is Isis wearing the sun on her head, between two bull's horns.

There are multiple versions of Osiris, which some reading shows a similar structure to the local deity morphing to a new system. He was often depicted as green or black skinned *foe fertile plants or soil), but sometimes with the eagle head or other forms. He often had the mummy wrappings to show the resurrection part of his story.

So, long story shortish, the reasons I compared Frank to Khepri are also reflected in the Osiris story:

--association with the sun

--rebirth into a new form

--resurrection from the dead

--association with crops/plants

But Osiris adds another element, which is the being broken into pieces and reformed. In addition, the odd colored skin is interesting. Frank is the only neighbor with a garden and is well-known for his green thumb.

In my (and other people's) theories, Bug-a-Bye is a song that may show that Frank is having to bury people, most likely Eddie. He describes hibernation as a thing that takes something he loves away from him and there is an insinuation that when they come back he will remember things that they don't, leaving him lonely.

Add to this Eddie's Frankenstein costume and the image of Frank in a box full of Frank puppet parts, this image of ressurection and creation of a new being from existing parts is a very strong connection to Osiris, with his being cut into pieces and post-humously creating a new life in Hourus.

(Also, Frank's costume is a vampire, known for converting people into a life after death.)

It is interesting that Isis is depicted with a sun on her head and a participant in the rebirth of Osiris, as Sally has a sun head and has now been in the end of Commercials and Brick-by-Brick next to Frank after a major event for a character.

Sally was also the source of the story about a nighttime creature trying to eat someone. Eddie is also involved in this idea, since his watch is divided clearly into light and dark.

Also, I have theorized that Sally has a moon side to her as well, and Isis was considered a moon deity, despite wearing the sun. On top of that, Isis is also agricultural which is associated with creating and sustaining life. Maybe Sally has that too? She is creating plays and songs a lot.

I need to go look up Isis's sister.

DISCLAIMER - WH UPDATE SPOILERS AND THEORY

"I warned you, you can always go back"

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Now…I could be thinking WAY into this but doesn't anyone find the whole 'Bug-a-Bye and Goodnight' song a little suspicious? Of course, the song is sung in a melancholy way as Frank bids the bugs farewell before bed.

HOWEVER, something about it just feels very off to me. Especially the lines I have snipped from the lyrics.

Could the song be hinting at the possibility that there may be some point where Eddie is going to be buried? Like our last clip, we saw Mr. Dear in a very-not-okay moment with Frank looking very worried.

In the past update in Frank's Garden, after you click on a bug, you see one of the people or little clips buried halfway in the dirt in the hidden video. Nine little people things....one buried

frank's garden…garden…bug-a-bye and goodnight?

Bugs are also decomposers we know that very well! Bugs have been a lurking theme in Welcome Home too- COINCIDENCE? I THINK NOT

Am I going insane or does anyone else see it?

[catboyelimgarak]

Self indulgent shit like OCs for a story in my head

[corroded-hellfire]

I just need pre-relationship AYW!Eddie all pent up and feral for Reader. I need him whimpering when he touches himself after Reader leaves for the evening. I need him trying to picture anyone else besides his kids’ babysitter but he keeps picturing Reader.

Your wish is my command! 😘

Warnings: male masturbation, smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), older!eddie, babysitter!reader, the longing is real

Words: 2.4k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Go to sleep now,” you grumble playfully, ruffling Luke’s curls as he smiles up at you from his bed.

“One more story?” Luke asks, though his voice betrays how sleepy he already is.

“Come on, buddy,” Eddie says from the doorway. “She’s been nice enough to stay for dinner and read you two bedtime stories already.”

A smile that steals Eddie’s breath grows on your lips as you turn to look at your boss.

“You make it sound like such a hardship,” you quip.

“I don’t think your union allows for overtime,” Eddie replies.

You let out a soft giggle and Eddie feels his insides begin to melt. It’s catastrophically unfair, the effect you have on him. Not in his whole life has Eddie met someone who so effortlessly turns him on and makes his heart race. As impossible as it is to ignore the feelings, Eddie tries not to linger on them for a few reasons. One, you’re a complete pipe dream. There is no way you, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate, and hilarious you would ever see a man over a decade older than you in the same light that he sees you. Two, and which he admits is arguably the bigger reason, is that he’s married. Sure, it hasn’t been a real marriage in…God knows how long. But it’s still a legally binding marriage that he hasn’t even attempted to separate from. Not for lack of want, though. It’s hard to see a point when it would cause the breakup of his boys’ family, and for what? So Eddie could be all alone in some smaller unfamiliar home that he struggles to afford on his own while caring for his sons, only getting to see them half the time he does now? No. He basically is doing it all alone right now, with the lack of input from Brittany, but at least Luke and Ryan are in the home they know and the two combined household incomes can give them a pretty good life.

Unfortunately, all the logic in the world can’t cure Eddie’s addiction to you.

“Close your eyes, sleepyhead.” You stand up from the edge of the four-year-old’s bed and lean over to press a kiss to his forehead.

The way you bend down towards the boy gives Eddie a spectacular view of your ass. He’s forced to dig his nails into the palms of his hands to suppress the groan that so desperately wants to escape. As much as he internally chides himself, Eddie can’t tear his eyes away either. He gets so few chances to just look at you, that he can’t bring himself to cut this precious time short.

“Night night,” Luke says through a yawn.

“Night, pal,” Eddie says.

You boop your index finger against the little boy’s nose before standing up straight and heading in Eddie’s direction. The two of you exit into the hallway and Eddie closes the door almost all the way–leaving it open just a crack to allow some of the hallway light in.

The two of you are silent as you walk to the living room, both silently dreading that it’s time to part for the evening. You swipe your bag up from the couch and slip it onto your shoulder.

“I guess I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow,” you say, reluctantly taking steps toward the front door.

“Thanks for staying longer than you had to,” Eddie says, walking you to the door like always. He feels like he should add the words “for the boys” to the end of his sentence, but he can’t bring himself to. As much as the boys adore you, Eddie knows he is without a doubt the happiest one that you stayed for dinner and until bedtime.

“It was fun,” you tell him. “I always have fun here.”

“Always?” Eddie teases, raising his eyebrows. “Can I remind you that you said that the next time Luke has a meltdown?”

“Sure,” you reply with a chuckle.

The electricity in the air threatens to spark at any moment as Eddie reaches around you to open the front door.

“Drive careful, sweetheart,” he says.

“No,” you tease with a playful smirk. “I’m going to drive recklessly. Run all the red lights.”

“Don’t give me reason to worry,” Eddie mumbles, knocking his shoulder against yours.

“Aww,” you coo. “You worry about me?”

Heat rises to Eddie’s cheeks and he desperately wills it to move back down his body.

“Alright, smart ass.” Eddie wrinkles his nose up and pretends to shove you out the door.

With a laugh, you playfully stumble down the walkway a few steps, acting as if his push was that strong.

“Oh, fine!” you lament over-dramatically. “I’ll be a good girl! Bye, Eddie.”

A good girl. Suddenly, Eddie wishes that heat and blood would stay in his face instead of rushing to his groin like it currently is.

“Bye, sweetheart.”

The moment you’re safely in your car and Eddie hears the engine start, he closes the front door and groans in time with the locking mechanism clicking into place.

“This just feels cruel,” he mumbles to himself as he rests his forehead against the cool wood of the door. He lets himself stand there until he hears your car rumble down the road and off into the night.

It takes a Herculean effort to push himself up and head deeper into the house. Out of habit, Eddie glances at the clock on the wall to see if Brittany will be home soon or not. It’s useless though—there’s never a set time she comes home. Who knows where she is or what she’s doing? Or who she’s doing. The pseudo-schedule the household used to follow has fallen by the wayside, so Eddie mentally tells himself to ignore it altogether. Easier said than done, of course.

When Eddie steps into the hallway it’s silent. No sounds of Luke sneaking out of bed to play with his toys or Ryan fumbling for his flashlight to read beneath his covers. Heaving a sigh, Eddie decides he might as well take care of the situation in his pants.

Despite Brittany not being home, Eddie locks the bedroom door behind him. Luke has also started the bad habit of opening any and every door without knocking first. So, better to be safe than sorry.

“Okay, think of someone else,” Eddie says to himself as he rids himself of his clothes. “Anyone else. Not her.”

It shouldn’t be hard to think of another woman to get himself off. Hell, for the entirety of Eddie’s teenage years, he could’ve jacked it to almost any woman and it would be great. Now he can’t seem to get this one specific, unattainable woman out of his mind.

He shucks the last of his clothes off and lays down on his bed, wracking his brain for someone who can get the job done. Julia Roberts? Nah. Jennifer Aniston? No. Cindy Crawford? Nope. Nicole Kidman? Maybe….no. Aunt Viv from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? The first, not the second one. Still no.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, letting his eyes fall closed as he wraps his hand around his semi-hard shaft. He licks over his lips and tries to let himself relax. The only way Eddie is going to be able to take care of this problem is to think about you and he knows it. He also knows he needs to hurry up if he wants to finish before Brittany comes home.

The mere thought of the woman who sleeps next to him at night has him softening slightly in his hand. A snort of laughter comes out, Eddie finding that humorous. Objectively, Brittany is beautiful, but knowing the rot and decay that lays just beneath the surface ruins any attractiveness Eddie could ever find in her anymore. Even though he already knows what will happen, Eddie immediately switches his thoughts over to you to see the effect. It’s instant. His cock comes to life at the very thought of your name.

No shit, Eddie thinks to himself as he opens his legs a little wider. Because she’s literally a fucking goddess. God, those eyes. Eddie’s hand grips himself a little tighter and moves down towards the base.

“Say you’re a good girl again, baby,” Eddie mumbles under his breath. Fuck, he can’t believe he was lucky enough to hear those words come from your lips. Jesus, he can hardly imagine being lucky enough to come home to you at the end of the day. Walking in the door after work and seeing you is already what he looks forward to all day, he can’t fathom how he would feel if you greeted him with a kiss and stayed there with him and the boys all night. And once the boys go to bed it’s time for some fun.

“Please.”

The word tumbles from Eddie’s lips but he’s not entirely sure what he’s asking for. You to be there with him? You to be by his side always? You to be here, naked, with your hand around him instead of his own?

Okay, Eddie thinks, shifting to make himself more comfortable. There we go, think about coming home to her.

He begins to slowly stroke his cock up and down.

Eddie imagines walking through the front door and kicking his boots off. Your voice hums sweetly from the kitchen and it brings a smile to his face.

“What smells so good, huh?” he asks as he strolls into the room.

The sight he’s greeted by is almost enough to bring him to his knees. You stand at the counter, facing him, an apron on and a bowl full of cake batter held in your hands.

“Welcome home,” you say.

Dark brown eyes follow your every move as you slowly dip your forefinger into the batter and pop it into your mouth. Eddie finds himself holding his breath as you slide your finger out from between your plush pink lips at a torturous pace.

As if the first time wasn’t enough, you dip your finger back in, but instead of putting it in your mouth this time, you point your finger up and stick your tongue out to lick every speck of vanilla batter off of it.

“Oh, fuck me,” Eddie moans.

With a soft laugh, you set the bowl down and look up at Eddie through your thick eyelashes.

“Funny. I was going to say that to you.”

A rough growl reverberates from Eddie’s chest as he moves forward to grab you by the hips. It’s only once he has his hands on you that he realizes not only are you wearing the apron—you’re wearing only the apron.

“God damn, baby,” he mutters. Calloused hands slide back just slightly and come into contact with your bare ass. He drops his head forward to rest against yours with a helpless whine.

You giggle, tilting your head up to brush your nose against his.

“I like the sounds you make,” you tell him, voice thick with lust.

Before he responds, Eddie presses a few gentle kisses along your bare shoulder and up the side of your throat.

“I want to hear your noises, too.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “I don’t think that’ll be very hard to manage.” You reach up with your left hand and tug on the tied apron string resting on the nape of your neck. The front of the apron falls down, leaving your entire torso exposed to Eddie.

A guttural groan meets your ears as strong hands grab you by the waist and help you up onto the counter. Immediately, you spread your legs and Eddie stands between them, the two of you fighting with the apron to get it all the way off you.

Eddie tosses it over his shoulder as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling the two of your bodies as close as possible.

“Eddie,” you whine, reaching up to bury your fingers in his unruly curls.

“What baby?” His breath brushes against your lips, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Need you.” Using your grip on his hair, you pull Eddie’s face down to crash against yours.

Mouths meet, lips dancing, tongues exploring, and teeth clashing. Strong yet gentle fingertips dig into your skin, yearning to hold you as tight as humanly possible. Nothing is close enough.

Eddie pulls back just enough to playfully nip at your bottom lip.

“Being such a good girl for me,” he rasps.

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you run your nose along the edge of Eddie’s jawline.

“Wanna be so good for you. Wanna feel you, Eddie. Pretty please?”

A smug smirk grows on Eddie’s face as he reaches between your two bodies to unzip his navy blue coveralls. You shove the material down his hips as Eddie whips his white undershirt off over his head.

“Ready for me, princess?”

Eddie lines himself up with your entrance, glancing up at your face as he waits for your approval.

“God, yes!” You nod emphatically, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get him inside of you faster.

Eddie grins at your eagerness, putting both of you out of your misery as he pushes inside.

“Fuck,” he groans.

“Oh!” You whimper, clinging to Eddie’s shoulders.

The sweet little noises spilling from your lips only encourage Eddie. He pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back into your tight wet heat. It feels as close to euphoria as Eddie’s ever felt. He wants to spend forever between your legs, but it feels far too good to last long.

“Feels so good,” you whine.

“Yeah, baby?” Eddie asks. “Like when I…oh, fuck.”

Eddie doesn’t have time to imagine what he’d say next before hot cum starts to pour over his fist.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles as his orgasm works its way through his body. His hand keeps going, milking his cock for everything that it’s worth.

Once he’s well and truly spent, Eddie lets his boneless body sink into the mattress. His arm flings over the side of the bed and his fingertips brush against his t-shirt laying on the floor. Blindly, he picks it up and wipes his coated hand off before wiping the cum off his abdomen, legs, and anywhere else it went.

“Holy shit,” Eddie sighs. His head falls to the side and his eyes slip closed. A goofy smile comes to his face as his mind returns to you. “Fuck, I’m so gone for her.”

[gothcsz]

Body Language | Pornstar!Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | Part 2 to this bad boy right here | ~8.2k wc | Series Masterlist | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: Caught in a charged and unexpected moment with Javier Peña, you struggle between resisting his relentless seduction and giving in to the tension that has been building since the last shoot.

Tags: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, no use of Y/N, reader is shorter than javier but other than that no physical descriptions, some dirty talk, semi-public sex (we're in an elevator this time around), reader really doesn't like javi, steve being steve, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: this was supposed to be a short lil thing but then my ass had to drag it out just a little because their dynamic is very fun to write 😭 he's like whyyy don't you like me and she's like how much time do you have? lmfao. this is dedicated to @auteurdelabre 🖤 #1 pornstar javi stan, i almost submitted this for your trope off but decided to save that honor for my other story! anyways, i hope you guys enjoy javier begging to eat you out 🥂 let me know what you think 🖤 mandatory mutual tags: @almostempty / @miss-oranje-disco-dancer

You sit in the cramped waiting room outside of Robbie’s office, the stale air clinging to your skin as you shift uncomfortably in the worn-out chair. The place is too quiet, save for the muffled sounds of the city outdoors.

You glance at the clock on the wall, anxiety creeping up your spine. You have a shift at the bar in an hour, and time is slipping through your fingers. The laundry, the groceries, the endless list of errands— it all piled up today, and now you’re cutting it too close.

But you need this check. It’s the only reason you’re here, tapping your foot in impatience. If you don’t get it today, the money won’t hit your account in time to cover rent, and you really don’t want another lecture from your landlord. It’s bad enough you’re already behind— no need to give him more ammunition to chew you out.

You sigh and lean back, eyes closing as you try to drown out the frustration swirling in your head. That’s when you hear the unmistakable ding of the elevator down the hall and turn your head to see who’s joining.

Your stomach drops and you sit up straight. No. Not now. The air feels heavier, thick with that familiar irritation, as the slow, deliberate sound of boots against the tile grows louder. 

Javier Peña.

Just the thought of him sends a hot wave through your being, a mix of irritation and something else you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t want to think about that last shoot, the one where things shifted. Where shit got weird. You behind the camera, filming as always, while he was balls deep in another woman, claiming you were on his mind.

“Bet you’d look just as pretty like this, nena.”

“Did you like what you saw? Like watching the way I fucked her but was thinking of you the whole time?”

It was like he’d stripped you bare with just a few words, leaving you more exposed than them in the midst of their carnal fucking. And the worst part? You’d been affected by it. Skin on fire, pussy wet. It also didn’t help that Steve had heard it too. The mic catching the flirting, the hitch of your breath getting stuck in your throat, clear as day.

He’d asked you about it later at Lucky’s, as promised, all smug and drinking that God-awful beer. But you’d brushed him off, hoping he’d drop it. Thankfully, he had— for the most part— but you could still feel his restlessness, wanting to stir the pot.

Now, Javier is here, of course, because the universe just loves to mess with you. You roll your eyes and cross your arms, leaning back against the chair in defiance. You refuse to look at him. You won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he gets under your skin. 

His footsteps stop just a few feet away, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore. You can feel him looking at you, feel the weight of his brown eyes like a physical thing as they rake over your body.

You keep your gaze glued to the wall, focusing on the ugly, generic painting hanging there like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“You gonna act like you don’t see me?” His voice is deep, smooth, and frustratingly cocky, just like always. 

You grit your teeth, biting back a response. You won’t give him an inch. Not again. This motherfucker will take a mile.

“Okay, so that’s what we’re doing.” Before you can react, he plops down beside you. You stiffen immediately, moving your crossed knees to the side, angling yourself away from him, as if the few inches of space will protect you from the onslaught of whatever the hell he’s about to say next.

He spreads his thighs wide, his posture screaming obnoxious confidence. You just barely catch a glimpse of his bulge pressing up against his left thigh and how the fuck does it look so big even when he’s soft? “You know,” he says, voice dripping with that lazy, arrogant drawl, “you’re the only woman that treats me like this, and for the life of me, I can’t figure out why.”

You snort, the sound sharp and humorless. You still don’t bother looking at him.

Javier frowns, flitting his tongue across the top row of his teeth. “Is it because I came off too strong the first time we met? ‘Cause if that’s the case; then I’m sorry. Can’t help myself from flirting with pretty little things like you.”

You roll your eyes so hard, it’s a wonder they don’t fall out of their sockets. He doesn’t sound sincere at all.

Thing is, you didn’t mind the flirting. Even if he, like he’s so romantically put it, does flirt with pretty little things all the time; it did make you feel like just that. Pretty. It’s what came after that soured your Javier Peña experience.

He huffs, like a petulant child, frustrated by your silence. You don’t give him the satisfaction of even a glance. Instead, you shift in your seat, your mind racing, wondering what the hell is taking Robbie so damn long. He never works, barely lifts a finger unless there’s money or something else in it for him, and now, suddenly, he’s busy? Yeah, right. He’s probably in his office jerking it to one of his films, getting off on his own work. Typical.

You’re done waiting. With a sharp movement, you stand, startling Javier, though you still don’t give him the time of day. He’s used to women catering to his every whim, hanging on his every word. You aren’t going to be one of them. Not even if he did manage to get you all hot and bothered.

You stalk over to the door and knock harder than necessary. “I’m busy,” his voice grumbles through the wooden surface, and you resist the urge to scream.

“And I need my check. Just slide it under the door or something,” you snap, the urgency in your voice making it clear that you’re not in the mood to get fucked around with.

There’s a pause, followed by the sound of shuffling papers before the door cracks open just enough for Robbie to stick his hand out, an envelope clutched between his fingers. He practically shoves it into your hand before slamming the door shut again.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the envelope with your name scrawled across the front. Surrounded by imbeciles. Just one shift to get through tonight, and then maybe, just maybe, you can get some peace. Enjoy the first weekend off you’ve had in months.

Now that you have what you came for, you spin on your heel and stride down the hallway, ignoring the handsome pornstar still lounging in the chair behind you. From your peripheral, you can see him sitting there, skinny jean clad legs spread, looking all annoyingly sexy without even trying. It would be so much easier if he were ugly— or literally anyone else. But no, it’s Javier fucking Peña, with his ridiculous good looks and that cocky smirk that could probably charm the panties off half the city if he wanted to (it probably has, to be honest).

You mentally map out the next hour: hit the bank, dash home to change, then off to work. You could walk to the bank, maybe catch a taxi home if you’re lucky. But with traffic in this city, luck isn’t really on your side. You start considering your options— do you skip changing and just head to work as you are? Would your other boss even care if you showed up a little underdressed? You’re so lost in your thoughts, focused on cutting corners to save time, that you don’t hear the quiet footsteps behind you.

It’s not until the elevator dings and you step inside that you realize you’re not alone. Javier’s slipped in just before the doors close, sliding smoothly into the cramped space beside you. The sudden proximity makes your heart do this stupid little jump, and you curse yourself for it. You’re trapped now— stuck way too close to him in the tiny metal box.

The air feels charged, his presence impossible to ignore yet again. The smell of his aftershave hits you first— spicy, with a hint of something woodsy, layered under the scent of his leather jacket and the faint, lingering whiff of cigarette smoke. He tries to drown it out with minty gum, but it’s still there, clinging to him like an old habit. And damn it, your knees go a little weak, despite your best efforts to stay cool.

The height difference between you is glaringly obvious now. You’re eye level with the habitually open portion of his cream colored shirt, the buttons undone just enough to give a peek at his brown chest. It’s frustrating how effortlessly he pulls off the whole rugged look— like he doesn’t even try, but somehow manages to look better than most men who spend hours on it.

You swallow hard, trying to focus on anything but the fact that you can smell him, that you can feel the heat radiating off his body in the tight space. He’s just too close, and the damn elevator isn’t moving fast enough. You’ve got a million things to worry about right now—rent, work, your life— and the last thing you need is to be distracted by him.

But, like always, he’s right there, invading your space, making it impossible to think of anything else.

“What the fuck do you want?” You snap, breaking your vow of silence. You frown up at him, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface as you cross your arms defensively over your chest— a bad move, you realize too late, as the motion only pushes your braless tits together beneath the thin fabric of your tank top.

Predictably, his eyes drop immediately. You curse yourself for not wearing something more substantial. It’s not like I was planning to run into him today, you think to yourself.

“To understand why you hate me so much,” Javier says, his voice low, carrying that annoyingly casual tone, as if this whole conversation is nothing more than a mild inconvenience to him.

Your brows knit together, and a dry laugh slips from your lips before you can stop it. “Well, for starters,” you bite out, “you can’t even look me in the eyes when you ask.” 

His gaze snaps up so fast it’s almost comical, his dark eyes locking with yours, defiance flaring there. But there’s something else too— something that makes the air between you even more tense. You hold his stare, daring him to say something, to make this worse for himself. His expression tightens, but you continue before he has a chance to speak. “And I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you. You annoy the shit out of me.” 

He flinches, just barely, but you catch it. The smallest chink in his armor. You reach around him, your hand brushing against his side as you press the button for the main floor. The contact sends a ripple of awareness through you that you try to ignore. You don’t have time for this— for him.

Javier scowls, his mouth pulling into a frown that mirrors yours, and before you can react, he half-turns and punches a button for a different floor, effectively canceling your request. The elevator jolts, shifting direction. 

You groan audibly, exasperation washing over you. “And here you are, proving my point,” you mutter under your breath. Every second you waste in this shitty elevator with him is another second closer to being late for work. Another second closer to not getting everything done that you needed to today. He’s not just in your way—he’s deliberately in your way, and the worst part is, he knows it.

“You don’t like me,” he counters, turning back to face you fully, his tone edging into frustration, “but you never even gave me a chance.” His jaw is set now, his eyes searching yours as if he’s waiting for you to crack, to admit that there’s more to it than just annoyance. Like he wants you to say it’s something else, something deeper.

If you had the luxury of time, you’d lay it all out for him, explain in excruciating detail just why you’ve avoided giving him that chance. How his arrogance grates on you. How his charm, though admittedly effective, feels hollow. How the way he flirts isn’t even the problem—it’s the way he looks at you, like he knows something about you that you don’t want to admit.

But you don’t have that kind of time.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking a deep breath in a vain attempt to steady your nerves. “As fun as it’d be to stand here and explain this shit to you like a child,” you say, your voice tight, “I have important things to do, and you’re keeping me from them.” You jab the elevator button again, hoping the damn thing will just go where you need it to without another unnecessary detour, but you already know it’s a losing battle. 

Javier shifts closer, just slightly, his presence looming. You can smell that damn aftershave again, all spice and leather and smoke, and it only pisses you off more because your body reacts to it before your brain can stop it. You feel your resolve slipping, just a little. His eyes are on you, unwavering, intense in a way that makes you want to both slap him and pull him closer at the same time.

“I’m not trying to keep you from anything,” he replies, softer now, the edge in his voice gone. His tone is almost... apologetic? No. It can’t be. Javier Peña doesn’t apologize. At least not in any way that feels real.

You don’t even bother responding, just stare at the numbers above the door, willing them to move faster. The sooner you’re out of here, the better.

“Just—fuck, give me something. Anything,” he growls, frustrated as all hell. His eyes are wild, and you can see the cracks in his usual suave demeanor, like he’s barely holding it together. “Ever since that last shoot, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head, and I don’t know why. You think you’re exasperated? How the fuck do you think I’m feeling over here?”

You raise a brow, leaning into your disdain as you pout at him mockingly. “Oh, boohoo. Cry me a river. A girl doesn’t like me back, wahh.” You mimic the sound of a crying baby, bringing your fists up to rub against your cheeks in the most exaggerated way possible. Then you drop the act, face deadpanning. 

His eyes narrow, and you think you’ve finally hit a nerve. Good. Let him stew in it. But instead of backing down, he does something you don’t expect— he turns, reaches out, and slams his palm against the emergency stop button. The elevator lurches to a sudden halt, the hum of motion disappearing as the car freezes between floors.

Your eyes widen, a sharp spike of adrenaline shooting through you as the reality of the situation sets in. “What the hell, Javier?” You’re about to cuss him out, to let him know exactly what kind of shit he’s just gotten himself into, but before the words can leave your mouth, he takes two long, purposeful steps toward you.

Instinctively, you move back, the sudden intensity in his eyes sending warning signals through your brain. But there’s nowhere to go. You can’t escape the tight confines of the elevator, your back is pressed up against the cold metal railing. You swallow hard, your heart hammering against your ribs as his broad body looms over yours, trapping you in a way that leaves you feeling both furious and breathless.

He’s too close. His chest brushes against yours, and you can feel his gaze as it drags over your face, down your neck, and lower still, lingering in a way that makes your skin prickle.

Any insult you were ready to hurl at him gets stuck in your throat. You hate how your pulse quickens, how your breath catches. You can feel every inch of him— solid muscle, tense with whatever storm is brewing behind those dark eyes. 

For a brief, dizzying moment, you forget to be mad. You forget that you’re supposed to dislike him, that he’s the last person you should let get under your skin like this but somehow is the only one who’s able to. All you can focus on is the way his breath fans across your cheek, the way the small space between you crackles with tension, like a wire pulled too tight.

“You think this is some kind of joke?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough, making your pussy tingle in ways you wish it didn’t. “You think it’s easy for me to just... shrug it off? Because it’s not. Not when I keep thinking about you, and I don’t even fucking understand why.”

There’s something raw in his voice, something that catches you off guard, making you pause to wonder if this really isn’t a game to him.

But you can’t let him see that. You can’t let him know how much he’s getting to you (even though he’s more than aware). So instead, you tilt your chin up defiantly, forcing your voice to stay steady. “And stopping the elevator? Trapping me in here with you? That’s your brilliant solution?”

“No,” he breathes, voice dropping to a near whisper as his face inches closer to yours. “But it’s the only way I could get you to stop running from me.” 

You hate how your stomach flips at his words. Hate how much you’re fighting against the instinct to lean into him instead of shoving him away. Every part of your body is screaming at you to tell him to fuck off and leave you the hell alone.

“Do you know what I think it is?” The words come out in a low, dangerous drawl, the kind that seems to wrap around your throat and squeeze. He leans in, crowding your space, eyes boring into you with an intensity that has your pulse skyrocketing. “I think you’re too fucking stubborn to let yourself have any fun. The idea of me fucking you is enticing, isn’t it?” His lips curl into a smirk, the kind that drips with arrogance and dark promises. “Could see it written all over your face that night at the hotel. That look in your eye while I was fucking Lexxie.”

His accusations slam into you, pulling up the exact moment you’ve been trying to bury. It should have been a professional gig, routine even, nothing personal… except that wasn’t the case. Not with the way he looked at you the entire time, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to react.

And, fuck, you had reacted. You felt the heat rise in your face, the way your body betrayed you as you stood behind the camera, mouth salivating, thighs pressing together.

“Javier…” You push at his chest, your hand meeting the hard wall of muscle beneath his shirt. The intent is to shove him back, to create some space between you. But the second your palm makes contact, it’s like the air shifts, and instead of moving him, it’s like you’ve anchored yourself to him.

Goddamn him. Goddamn you for your spineless ass, for not being able to follow through on resisting the temptation that he is.

He smirks wider, clearly reading the war going on behind your eyes. “You were shaking,” he continues, his voice a dark whisper that coils around your insides. “Damn near moaning while you watched me go down on her. Rubbing those thighs together while this pretty ass was in my face as she was sucking my cock.” 

His large hand snakes around you, catching you off guard, fingers gripping a handful of your ass and pulling you closer. Your body collides with his, and that’s when you feel it— his erection, hard and insistent, pressing into your stomach. The heat between you flares up to unbearable levels, and you can’t help the small gasp that escapes your lips. His touch sends a jolt of electricity through you, every nerve ending in your body on high alert, buzzing with want.

“You’re delusional,” it’s breathless but you’re still determined to keep some semblance of control. You squirm in his grip, your body betraying your words, the friction making your mind tilt. “You just can’t stand the fact that, for once, a woman isn’t throwing herself at you. That I’m not kissing the ground you walk on or falling to my knees, ready to suck you off.”

His hold tightens briefly, pulling you even closer, and for a second, you wonder if you’ll be able to break free at all. It’s damn near impossible to ignore the ache building between your thighs at this point. But somehow, you manage to slip out of his grip, your body twisting away from his until you’ve backed yourself into the far corner of the elevator. 

You can’t breathe. Not properly, anyway. You’ve never felt so on edge, so exposed in such a small space. Every fiber of your being screams at you to keep your distance, to reassert control of the situation, but there’s a part of you— dangerous and impulsive— that wants to step right back into his arms.

Javier doesn’t move, but his eyes stay glued to you, watching your every movement like a predator stalking its prey. The elevator is still locked in place, a silent reminder that you’re trapped here with him until one of you decides to relent. His jaw clenches, and you think he’s going to say something cutting, something to tear you down. But instead, he surprises you.

“You’re right.” His voice is rough, but it carries a weight that’s different from the cocky arrogance he usually hides behind. “I can’t stand it.”

His words hang in the air between you, heavier than you expected. There’s no smirk this time, no sarcastic bite. Just honesty, and it’s a fucking curveball.

You weren’t prepared for him to actually admit it. For once, he’s not trying to fuck with you, not trying to win.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

You swallow hard, the weight of his confession making your heart leap out of your chest.

You don’t know what to say, so instead, you just stand there, staring at him, your body buzzing with a cocktail of adrenaline, lust, and confusion. Because as much as you want to dislike him, as much as you need to dislike him for your own sanity, you can’t deny the way your pussy responds to him. The way your mind keeps pulling you back to that night, to the way he made you feel without even touching you.

“Get over it,” you snap, cutting him off before he can sink any deeper into this conversation. You don’t need to entertain this further. It can’t happen, and it will never happen. The second you fall into bed with him, it’ll be game over. Javier Peña isn’t just a casual fuck— you know deep down he’d be the kind that wraps himself around your soul and doesn’t let go until he’s consumed every inch of you. 

The problem is, you’re terrified that you’ll let him. It’s why you’re so dead set on not giving in.

You cross your arms over your chest again, as if trying to shield yourself from the strength in his eyes, the way he seems to reach into your very core with just a look.

You try to focus on anything else— on the fact that you still need to get to the bank, then to your apartment, and finally to your bar shift. You don’t have time for this shit, for the endless back-and-forth with him.

But then he says your name.

The sound of it on his lips makes you close your eyes, every muscle in your body tensing. Damn him. It sounds so fucking sweet, almost reverent, and you know if you make the mistake of looking at him right now— if you see those beautiful, pleading brown eyes— you’ll fold.

He says your name again, softer this time, and the way his voice wraps around each syllable has your resolve teetering on the edge of collapse. “Please, just let me show you how good I can make you feel,” he murmurs, stepping closer, his breath fanning across your cheek. “Just one taste, nena, por favor.” 

And for the first time since you met Javier— he’s begging. You never imagined that he, of all people, would beg for anything. But here he is, his voice low and thick with desire, pleading with you to give him just one chance.

You blink your eyes open slowly, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions that have been ignited by his words. The synapses in your brain light up like fucking fireworks, each one triggering a new thought, a new possibility. There’s a moment— a split second— where you picture it.

You imagine his hands on your body, his lips trailing fire down your skin, his mouth between your legs. The image flashes so vividly, so intensely in your mind, that it steals the breath from your lungs. 

You can practically feel the way he’d elicit things you’ve been trying to suppress. Your legs go weak just thinking about it, and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to ground yourself, to remember who you are, what this is. 

But your cavewoman, horny brain betrays you— racing ahead, picturing every possible outcome. You can’t help but wonder how good it would feel to let him in, just once. How it would be to let him take control, to let him show you, like he’s promising, just how good he can make you feel. 

You’re already late getting to the bank. You should be focusing on that, on getting out of this damn elevator and away from him, but your body won’t cooperate. Every part of you is ablaze, screaming at you to just give in.

Javier’s standing there, staring at you with those chocolate eyes, his dark brows drawn together, pouty lips parted just slightly as he waits for you to say something. Anything. He’s laid it all out in front of you, leaving you to make the next move. And fuck, as much as you hate to admit it, you want to. You want to let him pull you into his world, even though you know it’ll consume you. You want to feel his hands on your skin, his mouth everywhere, his name slipping from your lips.

But you can’t. 

If you give in now, you’ll never be able to walk away from him, and you can’t afford to let yourself get tangled up in Javier Peña. He’s chaos wrapped in temptation, and once you let him in, there’s no turning back.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you try to hold on to the last shred of control you have. “Javier,” you whisper, barely able to get the words out. You feel like you’re on the edge of a cliff, teetering between desire and self-preservation. The weight of his gaze presses down on you, and for a moment, you think you might just jump.

But then, with every ounce of willpower you have left, you take a shaky breath, shaking your head and breaking the spell he’s woven around you.

“No,” you say, the word barely above a whisper, but firm enough to anchor you back to reality.

His face falls, the fire in his eyes dimming just a little. You almost regret it, almost, but then you remember who he is. What he does. And you know you made the right choice, even if every part of you is berating otherwise.

You stand there, locked in a silent standoff, both of you doing a piss poor job of pretending like you don’t want to tear each other’s clothes off right here in the elevator. 

You’re hoping—no, praying— that he’ll finally let it go. That he’ll stop pushing, stop testing your resolve, and just leave you alone. You’re begging for him to go back to what he does best, to leave you to your job— both of them.

You break eye contact first, glancing down at your watch. You’re definitely not going to make it to your shift on time. Shit. You need to phone your boss and give him a heads up before this gets even worse. But right now, you can’t seem to focus, not with Javier standing there like a Roman statue, immovable and perfect, watching you with that infuriating intensity.

“Now, if you can get the elevator to take us down, I’d really appreciate it,” you say, but the words come out softer than you intended. You hate how small your voice sounds, like you’ve already lost the upper hand, and you mentally slap yourself for it. 

But he doesn’t budge. He just stands there, watching you like you’re the most fascinating thing in the world, and it makes you want to scream. His gaze is piercing, boring holes into your entire existence, and it’s taking everything you have not to crumble beneath it.

“Do you really mean that?” He asks as he brings a hand up to smooth down his mustache. There’s a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips, like he already knows the answer. “Because everything about your body language is screaming otherwise.” 

When the fuck did he get so close again? He’s right there, towering over you, and suddenly the air between you feels impossibly thin.

“It’s my fuckin’ job to read a woman’s body,” he continues, his voice growing huskier with each word. “And you know what yours is telling me right now?”

Your pulse quickens, your heart slamming against your ribcage, and you can’t find the words to respond. You don’t trust yourself to speak— not when his presence is drowning you in your own body. 

He leans in, lips so close to your ear that his breath almost has you fainting. “It’s telling me that you want it.”

Your stomach flips, every nerve ending in your body coming alive as his curved nose barely grazes your skin. The touch is featherlight, but it sends electricity straight to your cunt. You grip the railing behind you like a lifeline, your knuckles flushed as goosebumps ripple across your skin. 

Javier’s smirk deepens, the asshole clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “Stop fighting it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice like velvet, his hand sliding down the length of your figure in a way that feels too natural, too right. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel…”

You should stop him. You should. But you don’t. You can’t. His hands are on you now, moving with a confidence that’s impossible to resist. One large hand finds its way to your tit, groping it gently through the thin fabric of your tank top, and you gasp, the sound escaping your lips before you can stop it. Your body fails you, head falling back against the elevator wall, your chest arching into his touch. 

The way his hand moves, so sure, so practiced, has your resistance crumbling, piece by piece. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your neck, peppering soft, teasing kisses along your sensitive skin. “Barely done a thing and you’re already gone.” 

Your mind is spinning, your resolve completely undone as you melt under his touch. Every kiss, every graze of his lips against your neck feels like it’s unraveling the last bit of control you have. His body is pressed up against yours, and you can feel his erection through his jeans again, the hard (pun intended) evidence of just how much he wants you.

God help you, it feels too good to resist.

You sigh, a low, breathy sound that’s equal parts surrender and relief. His lips trail lower, his hand still groping your breast, and you let him. You let him because you’ve been fighting this for too long, and right now, you just want to feel something. 

Javier grins against your neck, his breath hot on your skin as he pulls you even closer, his voice hoarse in your ear. “Told you,” he says, his tone dripping with satisfaction. “I knew you wanted this.”

You don’t respond. There’s nothing left to say. You’ve given in, you’ll figure out how to pick up the pieces later, but right now? Right now, you’re letting yourself fall apart.

It’s like your whole body just deflates against his, sinking into the solid warmth of him as if all the fight has finally drained out of you. You’re giving him the green light, and he knows it. The grunt that escapes his throat is guttural, and you feel the weight of his palm pressing harder against your chest, his thumb and pointer finger expertly pinching your now hardened nipple through the fabric of your tank top.

“After this,” he murmurs, voice rough with restraint, “if you don’t want me anymore, I’ll leave you alone.” His words are punctuated by a sharp tug at your nipple that sends a surge of arousal straight between your legs. Then his hand moves, sliding up to cradle your jaw with a surprising gentleness. He tilts your head so that your eyes meet his, forcing you to look at him— forcing you to really see him. “You have my word.”

You search his eyes, not entirely sure what you’re looking for— honesty, maybe? A hint of something real beyond the heat of the moment? Whatever it is, you can’t find the words to respond, so you just nod weakly, your breath bated. 

Javier smiles at that, a slow, predatory grin, and he leans in as if to kiss you. But you stop him, your hand pressing against his sternum with just enough force to halt him in his tracks.

“No kissing,” you say, your voice more resolute than you feel. “You said one taste, so get to it.” You’re setting boundaries, trying to keep some semblance of control in this situation. No kissing, no fucking— just head. That’s all this will be. He’ll get a taste of you, and you’ll finally get a taste of what all the hype is about. Then it’ll be over, and you’ll go your separate ways. That’s the deal.

His frown deepens, a flicker of disappointment crossing his features, like he’s not used to anyone telling him no in any capacity. But it’s brief, because he’s not about to take the proverbial bone you’ve thrown him for granted. He agrees in his own way, pivoting without protest, his mouth returning to your neck like he’s already forgotten the attempt to kiss you.

Now that the rules are clear, you allow yourself to let your guard down— just a little. It’s not like your sex life has been riveting lately, and truth be told, you can’t even remember the last time a partner went down on you willingly. At least you’re getting something out of this fucked-up little arrangement, and for now, that’s enough. 

He kisses and licks a line down your throat, his stubble scraping deliciously against the sensitive flesh. You sigh, your breath hitching as you feel his hands roaming your body with a confidence that should piss you off but doesn’t. 

His rough palms map out your curves like he’s trying to commit every inch of you to memory. He’s groping, squeezing, learning you in a way that makes you feel like you’re his personal discovery. 

The warmth of his breath, the skill in his movements— it’s intoxicating. You can’t help but respond, your hips shifting, your body bending instinctively toward him when one hand slides up under your shirt, fingertips brushing the underside of your breast.

He’s good at this, you’ll give him that. Too damn good. It’s almost like he’s a fucking pornstar.

You hate that you’re enjoying it so much, hate that you’re already melting under his touch like some lovesick fool.

“Don’t overthink it,” he murmurs against your skin, feeling the nerves radiating off of you. 

His touch lingers as he reaches the button on your denim shorts, undoing it with a flick of his fingers before pulling down the zipper, slow and deliberate.

“You and these damn shorts…” you hear him say, more to himself than to you. His voice is gruff, frustrated, like he’s been waging a silent battle against his own restraint. He hooks his fingers into the waistband and tugs them down over your hips, watching as the fabric slides off your skin. You step out of them, standing there in nothing but your underwear, top and sneakers, exposed in ways you hadn’t intended to be when you walked into that office earlier today.

His brows shoot up, and you feel the heat rush to your cheeks. Of course, it’s laundry day. Of course, you’re left wearing your least practical pair of underwear— this skimpy, lacy purple number you hardly ever break out. The delicate string disappears between the cheeks of your ass, and the sheer front does little to conceal the soft tuft of hair just below your navel. 

And he’s drinking it all in.

“Fuckin’ hell, nena,” he breathes, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and lust. His eyes flick back up to yours, dark and hungry. “You always walkin’ around like this?” His hands grip your hips, and before you can even formulate a response, he’s sinking to his knees in front of you, taking his sweet ass time, like this is some kind of worship.

“No, I—” Your voice is breathy, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. “I had to do laundry today…” It’s all you can manage, barely coherent as his lips begin pressing soft, teasing kisses to the inside of your knee.

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder, steadying you, his fingers gripping your thigh with enough pressure to leave you keening. You brace yourself against the elevator railing, your body tense with anticipation, your mind a chaotic swirl of logic and lust. You barely notice as the check you came here for flutters to the floor beside you, forgotten.

Don’t forget to deposit that, the reasonable part of your brain chimes in, but you tell that bitch to shut up because Javier Peña is currently on his knees in font of you, about to take you on the ride of your fucking life, and you’re nowhere near strapped in.

His head is tilted up, lips brushing dangerously close to where you want him most, and all rational thought is slipping through your fingers like sand.

He looks up at you then, his dark eyes glinting with something wicked, and your breath catches again. You don’t know how to feel about any of this anymore. There’s a line you swore you wouldn’t cross, but now that he’s right there, so close to giving you what you’ve craved for longer than you care to admit, it’s hard to remember why you drew that line in the first place.

Javier’s lips graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and a quiet moan escapes your lips before you can stop it. He smirks against your skin, his fingers tracing a slow path up your leg, sending shivers coursing through you. “Relax, bonita,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “I’ll take care of you.”

You want to tell him to hurry up, to stop teasing, but all that comes out is a shaky exhale as his hands part your thighs wider, positioning you exactly how he wants you. His grip is firm, possessive, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ll survive whatever it is he’s about to do to you.

You don’t even have time to dwell on the thought before his mouth is on you, lips pressing a lingering kiss over the thin fabric of your panties. The sudden pressure sends a shockwave through your body, and your eyes fall closed, surrendering to the moment. His tongue teases the fabric, nudging against your already soaked cunt, and you can feel the wetness seeping through the lace. He hums low in his throat, savoring the first taste of you.

“These are so pretty. Don’t think I’ll take ’em off.”

He hooks his fingers into the delicate fabric and pulls it aside, exposing you to him completely. The cool air hits your slick folds, a contrast to the heat of his breath as he hovers just inches away. He’s staring, taking you in, and when he curses under his breath, it’s like he’s caught off guard by how badly he wants this. Wants you.

“Fuck,” he mutters, as he drags his nose up and down the length of your wet slit. The touch is maddeningly light, just enough to make you clench involuntarily, your body reacting without permission. More of your slick leaks out of your pussy, a response to the subtle stimulation, and you grip the elevator railing tighter to keep yourself from falling with how weak your knees get.

Javier flattens his tongue, delivering a slow, deliberate lick from your entrance to your clit, and it’s like your entire body ignites at once. You throw your head back, a ragged cry of his name ripping from your throat as your hips buck instinctively, searching for more of him, more of that friction that feels like pure electricity.

He’s not done, though. Not even close. One hand snakes around your thighs, strong and sure. His middle and pointer fingers spread you open, forming an upside-down V, and then he does something so filthy, so perfectly Javier— he spits directly onto your exposed pussy.

The sound alone could get you off, but the sensation is something else entirely. His saliva mixes with your slick, making everything wetter, hotter, and you feel like you’re unraveling before he’s even truly begun. A series of high-pitched moans spill from your lips as he latches his mouth onto your cunt, sucking and licking with a precision that has your entire being quaking.

Lips, tongue, teeth—he’s using everything he has, dragging you deeper into a haze of pleasure where nothing exists but the heat coiling in your belly, tightening with every flick. He’s devouring you, utterly relentless, and it’s too much but not enough, all at once. Every nerve ending is on fire, your thighs trembling as you fight to keep your balance. His grip on your leg tightens, keeping you locked in place, helpless to do anything but take what he’s giving.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, pulling back for just a moment, leaning his cheek against your inner thigh. His face is glistening, covered in your arousal, but his eyes are dark and hungry, never straying from your face. “With noises like that and a pussy this pretty— you’d be a fucking sight on camera.”

His words send another jolt through you, dirty and wrong and so fucking hot that you nearly forget how to breathe. He nips at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving faint marks in his wake, before diving back in with that skilled tongue of his. He’s a man with something to prove, alternating between broad strokes and tight circles, zeroing in on your fleshy clit with a precision that makes your head spin.

It’s obscene, the way he’s working you over, all these years spent perfecting this art, but there’s a rawness to it too, a desperation like he can’t get enough of you. You’re soaked, dripping onto his face, and he laps it up like a man starved, the sounds of his mouth slurping against your wetness filling the small space around you. Your moans are louder now, more desperate, each one pushing you closer to that edge where you’re not sure if you’ll survive the fall.

His fingers tighten on your thigh again, and then he’s dragging them lower, inching toward your entrance as his tongue flicks mercilessly against your clit. When he slips two fingers inside you, curling them just right, you nearly scream. The combination of his mouth and his fingers is enough to send you spiraling, your legs trembling uncontrollably as you arch into him.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he grunts when he pulls away to get a good look at your beautiful face and how you look when he’s making you feel like you’re on top of the world. It’s enough to get him to latch onto your clit, sucking on it harshly.

“God, Javier,” you gasp, your voice shaky, barely coherent. You can’t think, can’t form any rational thought, not with the way he’s pulling you apart, piece by piece, until there’s nothing left but the pleasure.

“Let go,” he growls against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shockwaves through your core. “I’ve got you, nena. Just let go.” 

And with that, the dam breaks. You’re coming hard, hips jerking wildly as waves of pleasure crash over you, your entire body shaking with the force of it. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up for a second, working you through it with that relentless mouth until you’re gasping for air, hands clenching at the railing so hard you’re surprised it hasn’t snapped. 

Your vision blurs, your mind goes blank, and all you can do is hold on as Javier takes you on the ride of your life, just like you knew he would.

You don’t know how long it takes you to come back into your body after letting him take the reins for a little. You’re trembling, legs weak and body heavy against the cool metal wall of the elevator. He’s still on his knees, knuckle-deep inside you, lazily curling them as if savoring every last second.

His mouth trails soft, teasing kisses across your soaked panties, and the tenderness of the act startles you, nearly pulling you under again. But then he withdraws his fingers, slipping them into his mouth with an almost obscene groan, tasting you one last time as if to commit your flavor to memory. He carefully adjusts your underwear back into place.

Javier stands to his full height, your leg falling from his shoulder, towering over you. His hand comes to rest lightly on your waist as if to steady you. “You okay?”

You nod, though your bones feel like jelly. Your eyes stay closed as you try to gather yourself, forcing yourself back into reality, back into the woman who doesn’t fold like a house of cards for her co-worker. You bend down to retrieve your shorts and check from the floor, fingers fumbling with the zipper as you button yourself back up. He presses the button to resume the elevator, the gears shifting as you’re slowly carried back to the main floor. 

And just like that, it hits you. It happened. You’ve came on Javier’s tongue and fingers. You swore it wouldn’t— swore up and down that he was nothing more than a nuisance at work, a distraction you wouldn’t let get to you. But here you are, post-orgasm, in a goddamn public elevator, of all places, with the man who was supposed to be just a headache.

“Hope you got your fix because it’s never happening again,” you mutter, trying to summon the biting edge to your words, almost like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him.

Javier just smirks, that infuriating glint back in his eyes like he already knows better, but he doesn’t push it. Not now.

The elevator doors slide open with a sharp ding, and the scene before you is worse than any nightmare you could’ve concocted in the heat of the moment. Two firefighters, the building manager, and— of course because why the hell not— Steve Murphy are standing there with varying degrees of shock and amusement.

You can see the moment Steve takes it all in— your flushed cheeks, the slightly mussed state of your clothes, Javier standing just a bit too close to you. His blue eyes narrow, then widen, and then he breaks into a shit-eating grin so wide you could slap it right off his face.

“Well, well, well,” Steve drawls, barely containing his laughter. “What do we have here?”

Your stomach sinks. Not again. 

Javier, ever the cocky bastard, simply raises an eyebrow and slides his hands into his pockets, all cool nonchalance like he hasn’t just been between your thighs minutes earlier. “Just crapped out on us randomly,” he says smoothly, and you want to strangle him for the audacity.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head as if he’s in on some big joke that only you and Javier are the punchline for. And as you step past him, cheeks burning, all you can think is that this will never, ever happen again.

But even as you repeat it to yourself, a small part of you— the part still buzzing from the memory of Javier’s mouth— wonders if you’re lying.

[leah-lover]

Second chances.

Alexia putellas x coach!reader.

Summary: new job, old friends , and memories your tried to forget. Will you be able to dodge the past as you navigate your new job?

“ More news arrived from the RFEF who have promised that they were going through a systematic change after the Luis Rubiales scandal. They have announced this morning the arrival of a new head coach to lead the women’s team in the upcoming euro cup which will be held in switzerland. The 33 years old coach came from the united states where she led her team to victory in the nwsl. Her name may sound familiar to you because she was a part of Vilda's coaching staff until she decided to step away for unknown reasons. Although she has never coached a national team before, the new RFEF president is confident she will heal wounds left by her predecessor mostré tomé and restore the team to its winning ways.” says the reporter on the TV. you were sitting on your couch listening to her talking about your new job with player’s files in your lap. The international break was in 7 days and you needed to get familiar with everyone and have a clear plan of your strategy. 

Being back in Spain brought back so many memories. You haven't come back since everything went down and you quit your job. You swore you would never come back to work with the RFEF however seeing everything unfold in the news you knew that agreeing to come back was more of a necessity than a choice. You loved the girls very much and you knew that they deserved better than what they got and you were adamant on giving them the best. Moreover, the new president was a woman you knew and was friends with. You trusted her and agreed to give her a chance. Besides Barcelona was the best city in the world, you couldn't pass up the chance to come back home. 

As soon as you accepted your position, you contacted old colleagues, ones that you knew you could trust,  and combined them with some of the existing staff that you were 100 percent sure were a safe fit for the new environment you were hoping to achieve and formed your new staff and announced it to the media. The fans were shocked at the amount of changes you made and their comments were very supportive of your decision which gave you a boost of confidence. 

All you were thinking about was this team. You held and attended meetings all day long. You practically lived on your desk but it was all worth it because it all led to this phone call you were pursuing since the day you got to barcelona. You waited in front of your laptop anxiously waiting for your star player to join the zoom call. Shortly after you see her face pop on your screen. 

“ hola.” you say enthusiastically. “ hola.” she replies. She looked much older since the last time you saw her, which was 4 years ago. 

“ Thanks for agreeing to this call. It  truly means a lot.” you say playing with a pen in your hands. 

“ yeah it wasn't easy but i thought why not hear you out.” she replied. 

“ So I am gonna get right to it. I want you to be back in the national team. You are the best center back i know, i want you to be in the te am, and you deserve to have a place in this team.” 

“ I see you haven't changed, you are still as honest as you were but I would have to decline.” responded mapi. 

 “ I am turning things around maria. You know me, you know my story, you know everything. This time is different. I came back to make things different. You watched everything happen in front of your eyes. Do you truly think I could make someone feel the way I felt back then?” 

Mapi stayed quiet, she was perhaps thinking about that night you decided to leave everything behind. The night the idea of las 15 was created. 

“ okay.” you hear her say. “ I will come to this camp.” you are overjoyed “ you wont regret it leon.” 

 Your happiness was cut short because you remembered that you had to do this 2 more times with pina and leila. After 2 very long phone calls you got them to trust you and to agree to the return to the national team. You then drafted the call up list and sent it to your assistant. 

The days leading up to camp went by quickly as your plans of the first steps towards rebuilding were coming to fruition. 

You were sitting in your office when  you heard a knock on the door, it was your assistant coach informing you that the players began   to arrive. A wave of nerves watched over you but that was to be expected. You were a part of this team before and you hoped they would welcome you back with open arms. You were wearing casual clothes so that you won't be seen as authoritarian. You settled for a white t-shirt, black pants and shoes, and you wore your hair down. Your objective was to appear normal and friendly to the members of the team you weren't familiar with. You headed straight for the conference room and waited for the first people to arrive. Shortly after that Irene walked through the door. You were instantly transported back to 4 years ago which is the last time you and the captain have spoken. You closed your eyes briefly to try and get the bad memories away and open a new chapter with the captain. You shook hands and exchanged pleasantries with her and the rest of the barca group but quickly moved on to the other members that had joined. After they were all settled in their chairs you noticed the absence of the person you were most afraid to see, alexia putellas. Before you accepted the job you wrote down a pros and cons list. The first reason you put on the pros was the paycheck and the glory. However for the cons the first thing you wrote down was alexia putellas’s name. Seconds after you thought about her she appeared. She was just as beautiful and charming as you remembered. She immediately came to you but without sharing eye contact with you. She went in to kiss your cheek as a way to say hello and you did too. She still smelled like before and her smell still had a magnetic power over you. She then took a seat next to Irene and you pulled yourself together again and started your presentation. 

“ Hello everybody and welcome. You all heard of me, some of you even were a part of my team when I was working here which feels like a lifetime ago. But in that lifetime this team has risen from the underdog to the most favored and feared team in the world. I am here to continue that legacy and help the team strengthen its roster. But I am also here to create an environment, a culture, and a safe space for you all.  You all are the best in Spain and you deserve to be treated like it. This culture I am trying to create involves no tolerance for homophobia, transphobia, racism, or sexism. I urge you to report any case of abuse or mistreatment from my staff or your teammates. I tried my best to employ people I trust and are advised to report anything that made you uncomfortable.  So Without further or do let's talk strategy.” 

You go over everything you expect from the team and how the strategy is going to change. You then instruct your team to go rest so that training may begin tomorrow at 9 am. 

On their way out you called for the captain to have a word with them. Once the room is empty you quickly say ” so you heard everything i said, i just want to make sure that you two know that i mean Plus the captaincy is going to change. Obviously, you two are the captain and vice. You can come with me with any concern or question about anything.my door is always open.  I am appointing jenni as the 3rd captain.” 

“ That wouldn't go over well with the federation,” said irene. 

“ Well, I don't care. They knew who they hired. Plus I don't play by their rules.” you respond. The captains share a satisfactory look with you although you haven't looked at either of their eyes, then leave. 

Your transition to head coach seemed to be seamless. The players were responding to your advice and strategies. The media seemed to be happy with the changes you made and especially with the arrival of mapi leon. The vibe of the club overall was great, and you were getting comfortable in your new spot. However, it was all about to change at the pro match press conference. The conference itself went great. You and the vice captain answered all the questions given to you without any mishaps. But once the media left and you were left alone with alexia,  you felt yourself suffocating so you quickly got up to leave.  

“ You can't avoid me forever,” said Alexia calmly. 

“ Who said anything about avoiding you?  The conference is done, so I am leaving. If you want to talk to me about anything, my office door is always open.” you say with a cold tone not bothering to look at her. 

“ You don't talk to me like you never do. Besides you won't even look at me." Alexia sounded sad. All you wanted was to take away all her pain but you couldn't. 

“ I talk like this to everybody.” you hear her get up and see her in front of you. Not looking her in her eyes  would prove her point, and doing it would rip you to shreds. You suck it up and look at her hazel captivating eyes. “ Happy now?” you respond. “ We can't continue like this, we have to talk about that night.” 

“ alexia there is nothing to talk about. I forgot everything that happened ,I moved on. I am your coach right now. If you have a concern about anything football related, come to my office.” you were lying straight to her face. You didn't move on or forget what happened. You just hoped your tough girl act would hold with her. 

Game Day was always fun for you but this time around it had a little nervousness attached to it since it was your introduction as the new coach. You started your day witha call from the RFEF board wishing you good luck and re-stating their confidence in you. You revised your strategy, confirmed you starting 11, and headed to the bus so that you would head to the stadium. You decided on a blue suit and let your hair down. You looked both masculine and feminine   which summed up your personality perfectly. 

Once you arrived at the stadium you gave the girls a motivational speech, headed to your seat in the sidelines and waited for the game to begin. You weren't a loud manager. You just sat there, observed the play and took notes. You trusted the girl’s judgment and gave them some autonomy when it came to the style of play which rewarded you with a goal in the 8th minute by aitana bonmati. The 1-0 unset turned into 6-0 by the 76th minute which made you proud of your debut. However it all turned into chaos when alexia putellas fell on the field. You panicked as the paramedics ran to her. You watched  intensely as they examined her and waited for the signal that informed you that you needed a substitution which you got almost immediately. Your heart broke for the recently healed midfielder but you had other things in mind. You called for Teresa Abelleira and subbed her in. The game ended in a 7-0 win. You shook hands with everybody, did an interview but the thought of alexia didn't leave your mind.  As soon as you were done you semi sprinted to the locker room. Once you got there you found irene. 

“ Is it the acl again?” you ask worryingly. 

“ No, it's just a muscle strain and her knee is acting up again.”  you breathe for the first time in an hour. 

“ This is happening because of you.” she says harshly.

“ Excuse me.” you couldnt believe what you heard. 

“ You shouldn't have come back here. You taking this job was a mistake. You have opened up an old wound and this is just the beginning.”

“ I am going to have to stop you right here. First,  I am your boss not your buddy from back in the day so you are going to have to take a step back and show some respect. Second, you have the nerve to talk to me about making mistakes  knowing that you ruined my life not too long ago.

“ She didn't sleep last night. That's why she got injured today. I am worried about my friend.” 

“ You should have thought about your friend 4 years ago.” you say as you enter the medic’s room leaving her behind. 

You found alexia with tape on her knee and achilles. Her eyes were closed so she didn't see you come in and sit next to her. 

“ I am willing to talk about that night this time only. Say everything you need but once I leave this room you are never going to bring it up again.” 

The only way to make it out is through. You thought.

[chanafehs]

My Veilguard review:

Note - I will be honest in saying this is very long and very negative. If you enjoy this game please don't let me be the one to ruin that for you and skip on this post. I will be discussing spoilers. This is just my opinion so please don't crucify me for it.

I think my thoughts about this game were shaky to begin with as I had been exposed to different spoilers and information before the launch. I wasn’t actually expecting this game to be amazing but as someone whose favorite Dragon Age game is Dragon Age 2, which is arguably the weakest in the series (until now), I still went in with the impression I would have a good time regardless. I did not have that at all, in fact towards the end of Act 2 and the beginning of Act 3 all I wanted was for the game to be over. 

The problems for me really started right in the beginning with the Inquisitor character choices and their characterization. No choices for your Warden, no choices for your Hawke, and only three choices for your Inquisitor out of the dozens you made in Inquisition. The romance option just felt like a very polite way of asking if you romanced Solas or not, especially after completing the game where your non-solas romance will only get one letter for you to read, outside of that, the Inquisitor will not even mention them. Disbanding the Inquisition meant basically nothing and vowing to stop Solas felt like it had little bearing on what my Inquisitor said when she showed up. 

The time frame to make Dragon Age 2 was just over a year and somehow included more choices from Origins than Veilguard did with over ten years of production. That is the information that's been banging around in my head throughout this entire game. In Dragon Age 2, we get the consequences of our decisions with Alistair’s fate and we get extra dialogue concerning Isabela/Zevran/Leliana/Anders/Nathaniel + some sidequests. Veilguard couldn’t even give us so much of a mention of our Inquisitor’s friendships and the consequences of those friendships outside of Solas. The Inquisitors themselves are locked into one personality type as well, and regardless if you choose to stop Solas or not, they are very amicable toward him. 

During the second cut scene you get with the Inquisitor in Dock Town, they will go on to ask you about your progress and then go on about Solas. Mind you, my Inquisitor is extremely unsympathetic to Solas and I chose the option to stop him no matter what, so why is it that every time I speak to her, she keeps trying to ask me if Solas is being genuine and that he was her friend? That doesn’t sound like someone who has vowed to stop him. They will also try to draw parallels between you, Rook, and Solas. Even at the end of the game, they will still try to appeal to you to see reason with him. That is essentially all the Inquisitor is there for. Incredibly frustrating. 

Throughout the game you will get missives from the Inquisitor detailing the devastation that is being brought to southern Thedas and every letter feels like more and more of an insult. To keep it short: Southern Thedas as we know it has been essentially wiped out. I think that deserves more than a footnote in some missive most players aren’t even going to see.

So the setting we spent all three games in, that we saved countless times, had our companions and protagonists die for, gets demolished in the background where we cannot see it. Skyhold had to be taken back from demons and whoops, that's not actually something you can do anything about. Nothing the Warden, Hawke, or the Inquisitor ever did mattered at all and it renders everything from the previous games absolutely irrelevant. 

With that aside, the companions are also another issue for me. I found myself having trouble getting attached to any of them and every single time I recruited one I had the internal question “Why are you even here?” None of their companion quests really tie into the story at large, save maybe Harding and Davrin, and they are incredibly boring save for a few cool moments.

The main appeal of Dragon Age for me is the companions, it’s why Dragon Age 2 is my favorite of the series. Despite the overused environments and the rushed production I still had a great time with it because of the companions. I was actually eager to do the companion quests and learn more about them and how they all fit into the main narrative. Even characters I didn’t like, I still understood why they were important to the story. Like I can’t stand Anders but I know why he is there, he has a purpose.

Every companion is painfully amicable towards you even if you decide to be “stern” towards them. I found myself not caring what dialogue option I chose about them because it made absolutely no difference. There is nice, funny nice, and gentle parenting. That is really all you have to work with in terms of the dialogue wheel. It was more difficult to get disapproval than approval and I can probably count on my fingers every time in this game I actually got companion disapproval. There is only one companion in my playthrough that became hardened, Lucanis, and it had virtually no impact on his character other than the fact he leaves for a couple of saves and comes back to kissing your ass. 

Something I actually really liked about BG3 and the previous Dragon Age games was working for your companion approval - this meant actually learning about your companion and what made them tick. If you don't understand them well enough you get disapproval, when you actually listen to their ideas and thoughts you get approval - there is an active effort to get these things. In Veilguard this does not exist and you are essentially promised approval no matter what, meaning there is no encouragement to know who these people are if they're just going to support you regardless.

I have to agree with the Skillup review they made about this game saying that every dialogue option feels like it was made with HR in the room and I one hundred percent agree. This is not how real people talk to each other. This is how teachers talk to toddlers when they want to explain the virtues of sharing toys with their classmates.

It felt honestly insulting at times to be treated like I don’t understand the concept of bigotry, I still have no idea what they were trying to go for with this, like were they trying to appeal to a market of high school boys who hadn’t discovered what empathy was yet? There is zero trust in the player and every dialogue and decision you make in these moments feels handhold-y and preachy. Like Pixar levels of life lessons you learn.

In the moments where I had to settle arguments over coffee and companions not respecting each other's interests, I could not honestly believe this is the same universe with Loghain Mac Tir, Meredith Stannard, fuck even Corypheus. Humor has always existed in Dragon Age and I love the comedic banter between the characters but it was always humor that served as an escape from the oppressive and dark situation around you, here the dark and oppressive situations feel like an escape from the unrelenting friendliness and tone deafness of your companions. 

The companion I probably had the most issue with was Taash and the way they were handled. I’m not going to get too deep into the Bharv scene because even thinking about it makes me cringe but If someone messed up my pronouns and then immediately dropped to do pushups I am most definitely killing us both. Isabela’s explanation is extremely preachy and she proceeds to do the exact thing she says she hates about people messing up pronouns. Anyways. Moving on. 

Taash I think is a good example of how to not write a multiethnic character. I don’t expect a white person like Trick Weekes to understand the first thing that comes with being multiethnic or having strict parents that intersects with that identity but it is most definitely not whatever the hell this is. 

The only thing I can offer here is that as a multiethnic person (my father is Palestinian and my mother is mainly Irish and Seminole) is that there has never been a point in my life where I felt like I had to choose what culture I am let alone give that choice to someone else in my life I just met.

That’s not what being multiethnic is. I do not have to choose between anything - I am whole and I don't need to cut myself into halves and quarters to be accepted.

It also feels subconsciously like you are supposed to choose Rivain as the Qunari are depicted as bigoted and oppressive as they always have been in this game. Knowing all of this really tainted my experiences with them as a character and I understand a lot of other non-binary individuals love the representation they brought on that level but personally, I’m just tired of ���queer representation” always coming with racist undertones. Again, this game feels like it always had white queer people in mind, not lgbt poc. 

These kinds of comments are really only made worse knowing what the Qunari take inspiration from - primarily Black and Brown SWANA Muslims. Why should Trick Weekes have any authority over a questline like that is beyond me. 

Also, this sucked. Especially because they said it to Neve too. I don’t really want my non-binary representation sprinkled with Misogyny as well, especially since we can’t really call Taash out on this comment unless you’re playing a woman (as far as I know).

Aside from Taash, I thought the writing around Harding was strange. Don’t me wrong, I love Harding, but I do not remember her being this friendly and people-pleasing in the Inquisition. If you play as a Dalish elf the first thing she says is she’s surprised that you would care about anyone else - there is absolutely no inclination of this kind of perspective in Veilguard. Additionally, despite knowing everything Solas has done and the consequences that had on her ancestors, she still tries to push you to reason with him?

All of her quests about learning about the Titans, experiencing and embracing their anger, and you still want to appeal to Solas? That was another thing I found so weird about this game, throughout the entire story you are being told again and again that Solas cannot be trusted, he is to blame for everything, and will stab you in the back and yet it seems like every companion tries to push back on you if you agree with this viewpoint? 

Also, something I didn't know at this point of the game but I do now is that Solas had killed Varric and she does know this so why is she acting like this knowing Solas had killed her friend who she spent years with?

Genuinely this whole game felt like: Devs: Solas is a villain

Rook: okay understood

Devs: actually nvm you don't understand him if you think he's a villain

The only companion quests I was actually genuinely interested in were Emmrich and his thoughts around death and becoming a lich. Lucanis' quests had the best boss fights for sure. Outside of that, it felt like “Go here with Bellara” or “Go here with Taash” and it got so grating I couldn’t wait for these quests to be over so I could progress with the main story. It felt like an annoying back-and-forth game to finish a main quest just to finish all the companion quests and then go back to the main quest. Like a list of chores to get through before you can have any fun. 

The inclusion of characters like Morrigan and Isabela in this universe was extremely hollow and they do not feel like the Morrigan and Isabela we know at all. With Morrigan there is a bit of an explanation to this with the essence of Mythal however she reiterates that it is still herself and it is only the memories of Mythal that remain inside of her.

In my canon playthroughs of Dragon Age, I romanced both Morrigan and Isabela, so I was curious to see how the developers would address their pasts with our Warden and Hawke. Unfortunately, the answer is that they don’t address it at all. Morrigan hardly mentions her past, leaving us to wonder if Kieran even exists. The game implies that the relationship between Morrigan and the Warden is insignificant; a codex entry oddly suggests, in a very slut-shamey way, that Morrigan had more lovers than there are trees in the forest. Isabela doesn't reference Hawke either, as she fondly remembers Kirkwall for found family and friendship. It seems that if you romanced Isabela or Morrigan, congratulations—your canon doesn’t exist.

I will echo the statement others have made about all the cameos feeling like mascots because that is really what they are. There is no substance to any of them, Isabela only feels like she is there to be a supportive voice for Taash, Morrigan will only really talk about Solas and Mythal-Dorian is the only one who actually gets a substantial quest related to him. I thought he was fine minus the "illegal slavery" bit because what is illegal slavery Dorian. Next up we will discuss legal murder.

Another thing that genuinely broke the immersion for me in this game is how awful the armor is. It is a Dragon Age game so I wasn't expecting Haute Couture but the design is all over the place and nothing looks right. Not to mention the extremely weird orientalist undertones that follow the Lords of Fortune everywhere. The outfit Isabela is wearing is even worse in person and I tried to give this game the benefit of the doubt by thinking we would be getting some underwater mission with her and that would be the explanation behind her bikini outfit - this did not happen.

The belly dancer-esque outfits with the coin-bedazzled turbans were pretty egregious and made me want to limit my time in Rivain as much as possible. For a game released in 2024, I am disappointed we are still dealing with the same Orientalist fantasy tropes. Even the Qunari are more naked in this game than I had ever seen previously. At least DA2 and DAI gave them pants. But hey the Antaam are all blighted and evil so who cares right.

Speaking of the Antaam, a lot of the antagonist motivations for this game genuinely did not make sense to me. The Antaam are suddenly giving up their fear of magic to pair up with...the Venatori? To fight for the elven gods? It honestly felt like they had no idea who to make fight for the Evanuris so they just pulled two of the baddies from the Inquisition and went "We can just use them and call it done". When you press for information on why this is the answer is always a mustache-twirling dialogue about power. Nothing much deeper from that than any of the villains besides Solas. All of the villains, especially Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain, are extremely one-dimensional and have no motivations other than being evil and striving for power. At least Corypheus had cool lines.

I'm not going to get too deep into lore changes since I know a lot of things happened in the comics, books, and TV show (all of which I did not read or watch) but I honestly do think it's a bad idea to have a "soft reboot" while needing to read several books to understand everything. That's not being welcoming to new players that's homework. If you wanted a soft reboot probably don't start off with half your plot and characters coming from various comics and novels people need to catch up on.

The portrayal of the Dalish in this game is inconsistent. When we inform them that their gods are evil and planning to overthrow the world, they respond, "Okay, heard you." How can they accept this explanation so readily? In previous interactions, Solas shared that the Dalish did not listen to him and even threatened him when he revealed this truth. Yet, when we present the same information, they believe us almost immediately. Is there no pushback or skepticism? The Dalish accept everything about the evil elven gods meanwhile Andraste’s followers remain completely unaffected by these revelations.

I think what frustrated me even more was watching our elven companions express grief and regret over the actions of the elven gods like they had something to do with it, painting the Dalish as adjacent to oppressors when they themselves are oppressed in every way. The only thing that remains consistent is the sad boy Solas act about it.

At the end of the game, two of my companions - Harding and Emmrich- were killed. Emmrich's death was unfortunately overshadowed by a zoom-in on a rock and I had no idea he had died until I got the popup. Still, all I can think about is just going "Rock moment" when he died. I don't really have anything negative to say about Harding's death other than the way she went out was fitting for her narrative. Bellara got blighted and there were no consequences for this and she walked away from it - forgive me but I am still under the DAO impression that if you get blighted that's game over but all the rules about the Blight have been changed in this.

I decided to trick Solas, and honestly, I don’t have anything negative to say about it, except that Solas should have noticed me holding the fake dagger since it was clearly in his line of sight. I liked the idea of outsmarting the god of trickery. While it wasn’t extremely satisfying, but I’m okay with how it turned out.

Even as the credits began rolling I still have trouble believing rook's role in any of this. Just the persistent nagging idea that they really just have no place in this story at all. In the beginning I wanted to see how Rook is looped into all of this and how they become central to the fight against Solas but just like with most of the companions, I have no idea why they are here. This should've been the Inquisitor's story to finish.

I'm not going to pretend that everything about this game was irredeemable and terrible. There were genuinely parts I enjoyed and had a good time with. The romance ending scene with Neve was fantastic, even though it took a long time to get there. Davrin was an unexpected aspect of the game that I actually liked, as I never cared much for Grey Wardens before, but he changed my perspective. Harding's mention of the Inquisition was also very sweet. Although I wasn't particularly invested in Emmrich, I loved the conclusion to his quest when he became a lich lord.

While I'm not the biggest Solas fan, I actually really enjoyed the cutscenes between him and Rook because one of my aims with this game was the ability to be mean to Solas and kick him while he was down. They definitely delivered there even though everyone else kept disagreeing with me.

The worlds are beautiful and the CC is definitely the best we've gotten in any Dragon Age game, I spent probably a solid hour in there. The hairstyles are great and the four unibrow choices? Bioware you shouldn't have <3.

Overall I definitely didn't have the best time with this game and towards the end of act 2 I was incredibly bored and the combat became repetitive and stagnant enough that I turned down the difficulty to get through it faster. I can't see myself replaying this any time soon and I am unsure what my stance on Dragon Age is now, do I Ignore this game ever existed or do I carve out everything I liked and pretend this is the Dragon Age I love? I have no idea, I am disappointed at how this game leaves us off and I really wanted to sit here and say It's good but I can't.

I think this game will reach out to and resonate with a different group of Dragon Age fans than me, I just wish I could enjoy it as much as I see other people doing. I was originally going to give this game a 3/10 but knowing you can pet the cats I will give it a very generous 3.5/10.

[deadhands69]

Harder, Softer, Harder

MDNI

Dabi x gn/afab Reader

Dabi helps after you're hit with a sex quirk Contains: consensual sex/non consensual situation I wanted to keep these as consistent to the same story as possible, hence Dabi leaving with two girls even if this one is written as more canon/slightly broken introverted Dabi. (I’m still amused by the idea of him being an absolute slut in the Shigaraki fic though.) Typically, I don’t assign jobs/quirks to the reader unless it’s relevant to the story. This isn’t a crucial part of the plot but a record store reader seemed like so much fun. After seeing High Fidelity too young to understand it, all I got out of that movie was that I wanted to work in a record store when I was older. For obvious reasons, my mom laughed at me and I never ended up with that job. But it seems sooo cooollll. So, record store reader. Maybe you’re there full time or just work there part time for fun or something. [wc: 2.2k]

This is part of an ongoing series: shigaraki version - bakugo version

It was supposed to be a quiet night. The wind lightly blew warm summer air over your skin as you walked through the shopping district with one of your best friends. You were leaving a small cafe and planned to visit a few shops next. Everything would have been fine, if not for - 

A sudden commotion draws your attention to the sidewalk as you’re walking out the door. Out of nowhere, you can’t see. Everything is dark and you would almost assume it’s in your head if not for the screaming and shoving surrounding you. Instinctively, you and your friend grab each other, ducking to the ground in an effort to find clear air. Ten seconds feels like an eternity but just as quickly as it came on, the darkness dissipates. 

A man rolls off the sidewalk in front of you and you immediately know it was him. Having never seen his face before, you connect the dots: he’s the sex quirk villain that's been all over the news lately. He has to be. He has the face of someone you’d imagine looking through the window of a locker room. He winks at you before running across the street towards some dumpsters in front of an alleyway. That brief interaction makes you sick to your stomach.

Sick isn’t all you feel.

Your insides twist in a familiar way, aching. Empty.

Fuck.

Before you can dwell on it, a familiar figure in the crowd catches your eye.

His hoodie blocks most of his face, but you’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

“Dab-” you begin to shout before he cuts you off.

“Hey, quiet,” he looks around, “I gave you that name in confidence. Not to yell in public.” His eyes continue shifting, but he sees that no one notices him in the chaos. 

“You doing alright?” he asks.

“We’re… fine,” you reply, “both of us got hit with that quirk though.” 

You stare up at him expectantly. He does know what that villain's quirk does, right?

“Your friend here have anywhere to go?”

“Yeah, she needs to get to her boyfriend’s apartment.” 

“Alright,” he says in a gravelly voice, putting an arm around each of you, “let’s get out of here before heroes anyone else shows up. Lead the way.”

The walk drags on forever, for how short it seemed earlier in the night. You can’t help but notice how much warmer Dabi feels against your body. It’s like every part of you is drawn to him. He only has an arm around you but you can’t help but want more. 

He follows the directions you give to get your friend to her destination. Her boyfriend is already waiting outside the building to take her in. Once you see that she’s safely taken care of, your mind begins to wonder. Dabi never said he’d help you, he’s just escorting you…somewhere?

“Where to next?” you ask.

“Don’t you need to…” he trails off, his intense eyes looking you up and down.

“Yeah,” you answer, trying to hide how flustered you are by quickly turning the direction of your own living space. 

He follows.

Honestly, you don’t know him all that well. You know his name is Dabi (or Touya, as he sometimes changes it up when putting in special orders) and he’s the cute regular at your work. You could list all of his favorite songs, but you have no clue where he lives. What he does throughout the day. 

Fortunately, you don’t live far. 

Unfortunately, it’s proving to be the longest four blocks you’ve ever walked in your life. With every step, you notice the way your pants brush against you. Turning you on even more than you thought possible for such a mundane situation. It doesn’t help having a hot guy close. And god, you can’t stop staring at him.

 Of course you always found him attractive, but today he’s irresistible. There’s something sweet in the way he smiles. How he looks at you like you’re the only person alive. The way he casually moves through the world as if he's unaware of how insanely attractive he is. It's effortless.

Dabi takes your arm, wrapping it around his to make sure you don’t lose your balance in the street. You look woozy, he’s decided.

The first time you ever talked to him, he was looking for a specific album, which happened to be your favorite band/musician. The two of you talked for half an hour about music before you offered to order the record for him to pick up later. Since then, he’s come in once a week like clockwork to look at the new arrivals and talk about music. Lately, he’d been bringing you coffees after you yawned once at work. When you brought it up, he brushed it off like it was no big deal and never spoke of it again.

All green flags so far though. He seems sweet so you don’t have many apprehensions about bringing him home with you. Besides, he’s your best option and you’ve secretly wanted this for a while anyways.

Before you know it, you’re walking through the door to your own home. Work crush in tow.

Good thing you cleaned up a bit earlier today.

“I like the space,” he says, as you hang your keys by the door.

“Thanks,” you reply awkwardly. It’s nice enough, you think to yourself. Not really noteworthy. He must just be making conversation. 

For how much you couldn’t keep your eyes off him and how painfully turned on you are, seeing him in your living room is still, well, nerve wracking. He seems too beautiful to actually be here, yet there he is. Staring at you with his hands in his pockets. Wearing a slight smirk while he waits for you to invite him into your bedroom. Or your couch.

Deep breath, he knows why he’s here.

“So,” he starts while walking closer to you, stopping less than a foot away. “Still feeling fine?”

Nope. Your face is flushed and you’re overwhelmed.

He knows that too, he can tell by the way you squeeze your legs together. How your breathing is different than usual. But he’s not just going to come out and say it. You never really asked for his help, as much as he’s willing to give it. He can be confident, to a point. But he’s waiting for you to approach him.

The coffee. Showing up every week, specifically during your shift. His arm around you while you walked here. Standing closer than friends typically do, but not fully closing the distance.

He’ll bring himself to you, knowing exactly what you need, but you’ll have to be the one to reach out for him if that’s what you want.

And you do.

You want him.

So, you reach for him.

He’s so close already, his face just above yours as he looks down at you. Gently, you run your fingers up his neck. 

He freezes at the touch.

It's what he wants, really. He’s been waiting for this moment since he walked into the record store and met you. But comfort is a feeling he can’t quite place. Your hand softly caressing over his jaw.  He can’t feel much on the scarred area, but it’s the meaning behind it that counts. He doesn't hate it, it's just a lot at once.

“Are you okay with this?” you ask, his face still blank as he stares at you. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“Yeah, I’m fine” he smiles, shaking himself out of it, “can’t feel anything there anymore.”

“Oh,” your fingers trail over the soft skin of his cheek down to his upper lip, “how about here?”

“Yeah, that I can feel.”

You can’t help yourself, you have to ask…

“What about…” your eyes shift down.

“You trying to find out?” he laughs.

“I mean, you did come home with me after I got hit by a sex quirk.”

“Yeah, yeah," he rolls his eyes. "Come on. Which room is you?”

Since you met Dabi, you've dreamed of this. You could never have imagined it happening in real life, but it's finally happening. You haven't even had time to celebrate touching him, now he's in your room. Hands on your hips, guiding you to the bed. Pushing you playfully onto the mattress before climbing on top of you. He leans in closer, nose brushing against yours. You take it upon yourself to close the space between the two of you. Bringing your lips to his, focusing mostly on the parts you know he can feel.

He tenses, but kisses you back. It's interesting watching his typical nonchalance crack away. 

He continues kissing you, slightly awkwardly. Pausing slightly whenever your touch becomes too affectionate. He’s loosening up though.

His warm hands slide up your shirt, resting against your ribs. Occasionally squeezing as he becomes more comfortable with the closeness. Eventually, he takes your shirt off entirely. 

You do the same, pulling his hoodie off to grip his t-shirt underneath.

At this point, you’re so horny it’s painful and kissing him is only making it worse. In desperation, you grab his hips and slam them into you hard for any relief. 

His eyes light up. 

This, he can understand. He's comfortable with roughness. It's not like he spends every night fucking his hand thinking about it, but when he does he imagines it more like this. 

“Like that, [y/n]?” he huffs teasingly, pounding down into you, harder than you'd managed to earlier. 

You only manage to gasp in response. 

It’s like you opened Pandora’s box, giving him permission to live out his fantasy. This sparks his confidence again.

He pulls your bra strap down, flicking his tongue over your nipple. Eye contact never wavering while you melt into a puddle beneath him.

“Dabi, fuck,” you moan at his touch. 

The pressure in your gut builds as he continues to rub against you. Both of your pants begin feeling increasingly in the way. You yank his belt undone, shoving his tight jeans down with it. His dick springs forward, tenting his underwear. 

Looks like you’re not the only horny one. 

“Like what you see?” his husky voice asks. He sounds self-assured, but based on everything else you’ve seen this evening you know there’s a bit of a question in there.

“Mhmmm,” you reach out to grasp him through the fabric. 

Continuing to follow your lead, he pulls your pants off as well. Tossing them to the floor of your bedroom. His hand is softer than you expected when he slides into your underwear. Rubbing intensely against your clit while he kisses you deeply. You’re about to pull the last of his clothes off when his other hand grabs your wrists to pin them above your head. 

Everything in you wants as much of him as possible. 

“Need you to fuck me,” you whine into his ear.

He smirks, pulling his dick out himself. It’s thick. Making you wonder how you’d never noticed it before in the tight pants he wears. How does he hide that?

Without letting go of your wrists, he lines himself up with one hand. Rubbing his tip between your lips before pressing into you. He’s certainly not being gentle, but you can tell he’s holding back.

He pauses.

Wide eyed, for a moment he looks more surprised than you that this is happening. Regaining composure, he begins to move his hips. 

It’s everything you’ve needed all evening and then some.

“Fuck, you’re taking me so good,” he groans down at you. 

Some combination of the heat building in you all night, the stretch of him, and his praising voice sends you over the edge. You’ve never cum so fast in your life but there’s a first for everything. Dabi looks pleased with himself.

He fucks you hard through your orgasm. Pressing your hands into the bed. Your head is spinning as the quirk wears off; you feel detached from everything but him. His eyes are nearly glowing as they stare down into yours.

His hands loosen around your wrists, sliding away from your arms onto the bed. You find yourself chasing them, slipping your fingers between his. His movements stiffen and he glances away. 

It’s interesting. He had no apprehensions around burying his dick in you but holding hands makes him nervous.  

You’ll save that one for another day.

Instead, you run your fingers over his arms. Feeling the smooth scars as you make your way to his shoulders. His movements become less constrained. He fucks into you hard and smooth, building the heat in your body once more.

Your pleasure crashes over you like a wave again, leaving you gasping while you grip his white t-shirt. Pulling him into you. Your hips angling to bring him as close as possible while you feel yourself squeeze around him.

“You feel amazing,” you whisper in his ear, “you’re so fucking perfect.”

At that, he can’t hold back any longer. 

His breathing becomes more erratic. Hips slamming harder into you until he gives one final thrust, filling you with cum. Head drooping as he groans into your neck.

You run your hands through his hair, letting him relax while you both catch your breath. 

The neck of his shirt hangs loosely over his shoulder, oops. You can’t help but kiss the area above his collar bone sweetly. Even if you know he can barely feel it. He tenses and you realize it was too much, pulling away.

“Don’t stop,” he whispers.

m.list

[starry-pierrot]

So I'm not one to usually come up with AU's let alone actually do anything with them, I work better with short stories and honestly I want to spend my time making my own ideas yet i fail to do that lmao

But an idea hit me. So Khan is an absent father right? Well what if he was actually over protective, like to a more grief ridden amount? Explanation under the cut!

Nori asking him as her final words to protect their daughter and he decides the colony isn't safe for her. But when he worked under humans he remembered another much smaller bunker, so he takes Uzi to the place and fixes it up. But...he puts her in a clear container. Or in this case 'These glass bullet proof doors will protect you!' sort of deal, idk I don't know how he'd do it or anything this all just jumbled into my head with no details. Anyway Uzi grows up with just her Dad and it honestly gets to her and pisses her off, she had no chance to make friends, she's alone here with just her Dad and her mom is gone. She misses Doll. But the bunker does have the one thing she hasn't seen in years, sunlight. Somehow her father missed the little beam of sun through a vent and every morning when he sleeps she stays up just a little longer just to look at it. Cue said Murder Drone cinnamon roll finding said weakness during a bad storm and finding Uzi. Her dad had been on a supply run, he's still in contact with the other bunker but refuses to stay with them. Yeva has taken over as leader and Khan refuses to tell her what happened to Uzi beyond 'She's fine! I'm keeping her safe!'. If she didn't have to run the Bunker she would go look herself, Doll on the other hand has a lot of time. ANyway-Uzi freaks out, N is curious about why she's trapped behind the glass and they of course become friends with N visiting on her dad's supply runs. He finds a packet of markers that surprisingly still work and with Uzi's own the two are drawing and coloring all over the clear container. Course she asks him to take her to the surface and he does much to the dismay of her father who tried to stop her and N but chaos and blah blah they get outside with Uzi now sporting her haircut from the show. I know from there it would sorta be canon compliant with the added bonus of V and J getting a new roommate that N has to smooth over with them, it would mostly follow the events while bringing back Doll's family. Tessa might be real Tessa. Love her. Probably continues on the camp episode right after the escape. Haven't decided if Nori told Khan about her solver and that Uzi might have it, sure with Nori she could handle it but with just him it would be hard to make sure she doesn't go feral. Might be a more concrete reason to lock her away. I don't know what I would call this, if I'm gonna continue working on it or what it will actually be. I could maybe write some one shots on it if I'm in the mood but if enough people like it I could try making a basic timeline? We'll see. And yes that one pic is a reference to draw with me.

[girlsoutlate]

this is my new account, so i'm reposting my 1 piece of work, hope you enjoy!!

readers thoughts are in pink, ever so light implied john price x reader, light questionable behaviour from men (not 141)

thinking about subtle sarcastic reader, especially to the type of man she'd encounter while working in the army. being a civilian and a woman many on base just looked over her, or looked too intensely at certain parts of her. but after months of working she's found her place, she's now respected by those who surround her. but what happens when some higher ups come and visit?

working closely with the 141 was no easy task. going from mundane paperwork to the flurry of action from a mission was difficult for you to handle, let alone helping them. you'd grown closer to them though, no more bouts of shyness stopping you from being yourself. instead you'd grown in to steady workplace banter with all.

unfortunately today couldn't be one of those days as some ever so important higher ups were holding a meeting with the 141, and since you handle the majority of the paperwork you were so graciously invited to attend.

you wished you had a little bit more time to prepare for this. these were important people, who wouldn't be nervous? apart from soap who appeared with a shit-eating grin at your office door, gifting you another surprise meeting. or gaz who could charm any conversation his way a bit too easily, with suave compliments and easy-going humour. don't forget ghost who doesn't even need to look engaged because of his mask, or be expected to speak due to his... unique personality. oh and the captain has been to countless of these meetings, so he can't empathise with you either.

but, one thing you could all agree on is that meetings were incredibly boring. for two reasons mostly. either the attendees were so dense it seemed they hadn't stepped on planet earth before, let alone a military base. or the subject matter was so bland you all wondered why there needed to be a meeting in the first place.

as your heels tapped hastily along the hallway you wondered which it would be. arriving barely on time with a tight clutch on haphazardly organised documents and a cup of coffee you opened the door, and had an inkling it wouldn't be any. you were met with two male voices. one high, clipped and plummy, the other harsh and american.

"-- that's what i expected from someone of her-oh hello! nice to finally meet you" the man at the head of the table said. an older, short and stout man with thin wire-rimmed glasses and a black tailored suit. a typical english man in an authoritative position. "ah, sorry i was late you'll have to excuse me. i thought to bring my extra notes, i hope i didn't make you wait long." you replied. "not at all, my colleague mr sullivan and i were discussing stories from our base". your gaze flicked over to what must be the source of the american voice. perfectly gold hair stuck down with copious amounts of gel, paired with lightly tanned skin and a too white smile didn't make it hard to guess. "civilians eh?" the taller man began "don't know what's up with the ones here, especially the woman we were just talki-"

"right" prices deep gravely voice cut over the grating one "meeting should start we're all 'ere". murmurs of agreement filled the room, and so did glances between the 141 that you didn't pick upon. however you did notice they were unusually quiet though you brushed it off, they were probably tired. "gosh where are my manners" the man at the head of the table exclaimed "my name is mr buckton and i'll be leading this meeting." briskly taking a few steps towards you he shook your hand roughly. being polite you attempted to make eye contact, yet his eyes were still looking straight ahead? lingering only on your chest for a moment he then made eye contact with you, a wide grin crept on his face. "come, your seat is next to mine" he prompted, gesturing you to walk infront of him and take your seat. as you walked infront of him his eyes now travelled further south. a small grimace shared from gaz to soap went undetected by the three sitting at the top of the table. mr buckton at the head, you to his left and then the captain and ghost next to you. opposite was mr sullivan, with gaz then soap next to him. with you all seated the meeting began.

for once the meeting was actually worth being held. despite it not being anything too serious you did well, even with your nerves. you answered questions and expanded in the points of others. as you suggested plans of action mr buckton steadily kept his eyes on you, while mr sullivan constantly scribbled notes down. soon enough the meeting was a breeze. well for about twenty minutes. across from you, mr sullivan was very inquisitive about anything you said. asking you to back it up or to show proof. not thinking much of it you obliged. it was a little odd but you knew your stuff and why not show off infront of higher ups? however the sentiment was not shared with the rest of the 141. who even asked for evidence about evidence? they understood wanting clarification on certain things, but it was growing incessant now. you were capable of your job and they knew that - that's why you were there. price especially helped you in the growing awkwardness; his job had never been so easy with you working underneath him. gaz and soap constantly gave eachother questioning glances, not wanting to explicitly speak up if their captain didn't. ghost was pissed he couldn't hide his eyes rolling as well as his scowl behind his balaclava. although they were growing increasingly annoyed the meeting continued, with more ridiculous questions being asked. professionalism was continued with a grim expression for another twenty minutes or so. hardly.

until mr sullivan basically dislocated his back by stretching in his chair with an exaggerated yawn leaving his cavernous mouth. "thought you woulda brought coffee since you kept us waiting for so long, cant believe you didn't make me some fresh". with beady eyes on you he smiled lazily. oh he has to be joking you thought to yourself there's no way this guy is real. play them at their own game. "why would i make more? i've already got some for myself" you smiled sickly back at him back, one that gaz has used on you many times when he's late giving you a report.

the table fell unusually silent again, and that's when you noticed it. the crackling of unease filling the air. sharp eyes from the 141 darted from eachother to you, to mr sullivan and back again.

"don't be so mean, i'm literally a dying man" he snarkily replied, eyeing you coolly. "one can hope" ghost muttered under his breath.

"i have urgent needs that need to be taken care of, won't you help?". mr sullivan continued, a slimy smile displayed as he noted the effect his badly hidden innuendo had on you. you felt your cheeks warm. he smirked at this, finally affecting you after bugging you the whole bloody meeting. fuck impressing him he's an arsehole.

"well, i'm sure you'll be alright by yourself. seems it happens a lot." you said back, indifferent. as soon as that left your mouth a strange sharp bark that hastily turned in to a cough came from soap. all heads from the table whipped to look at him. "pardon me" he shakily said, quickly taking a sip of his drink, watery eyes not straying from the blank wall above ghosts head.

"let's get back on track hmm?" mr buckton suggested "so cheeky, must be that time of the month". he turned to you with an eyebrow raised with an impish grin.

what. what the actual fuck. not only was this unprofessional, but who even though if that? let alone say it out loud.

price coughed uncomfortably and turned away. gaz and ghost looked at eachother in disbelief. and soap was finding that wall even more interesting. surely it could not get any worse.

"oh you all know what women are like, don't pretend. especially when they're frustrated" mr buckton let out a giggle "you know from work". you actually spluttered, eyes wide with disbelief. the feeling of unease in the air was now a full jolt of electricity. just as you felt price boiling with anger you leaned forwards to mr buckton. if everyone on the table wasn't watching you, they certainly were now.

"tell me" you said. mr buckton looked at you shocked, mouth gaping open. "tell me what women are like. you know i've been so airheaded this last week i hardly know my left from my right!". just to amp it up a little you slowly crossed your arms just underneath your chest, accentuating it. "you've explained so much to me this meeting surely you could explain this?"

the 141's eyes grew to the size of saucers, there's no way these two would actually fall for this? right? at this point mr bucktons and mr sullivans jaws were practically falling off. the latter was sadly the quickest to start talking 'so, when women start-". a smart rap in the door interrupted. a male voice said seriously

"emergency call for you mr buckton".

"oh, oh you must excuse us. i have to end this meeting" mr buckton declared "i simply cant miss this". messily shuffling their papers together both men swiftly said their goodbyes to you all. with that they just about made it out the door without tripping over their own legs.

a second passed after the door banged shut before gaz burst out in howls of laughter, clutching his ribs, soon joined by soap who could barely look at the wall for any longer. ghost stared at the door muttering who knows what under his breath and the captain sat there with his gaze fixated on the table mortified. he turned his head to you apologising profusely and asking if you're okay.

you just nodded vaguely and replied "men"

all likes, reblogs and comments are so appreciated!! this is my first time writing something properly so i hope you enjoyed it

[pardonmymannerssir]

(This wouldn’t leave me alone until I wrote it.)

Rook enters the dinning room -or what he likes to consider the mess hall- and recognizes all the faces present but one.

Strife steps forward immediately and the stranger follows. He’s tall, a few inches taller than Rook, and has short, curling blonde hair that’s graying at the temples. Theres a scar on his lip that somehow makes him look dashing instead of grizzly, and he’s wearing a breast plate emblazoned with a familiar symbol.

“Rook,” Strife says, “meet Commander Cullen Rutherford, of the Inquisition.”

The Commander extends his hand as if he’s not a legend made suddenly flesh. Rook has read stories about this man. Some of them rather salacious. His smile is crooked. “Just Cullen, please. Since the Inquisition disbanded the only thing I’ve been in command of is a few litters of Mabari puppies from time to time.”

Rook takes his hand firmly, because he’s a professional, damnit. “Right. Cullen. Pleasure to meet you, I assume you’re here to help?”

“Eve- the Inquisitor sent me ahead, I’ve a dozen men with me, the remnants of the Inquisition that we could spare from the South. It’s not much but they are some of our best.”

Rook nods sharply, catching Neve’s eye from across the room and trying to ignore the way his heart skips. The memories from the night before try very hard to distract him. All warm brown skin and breathy sighs. Her expression is unreadable but her eyes glitter.

They just need to get through this alive, he tells himself. Just this last bit. All they have to do is kill two gods. Easy.

“Every little bit helps,” he says finally, though an army would have been nice. “We’re grateful to have you. Now, let’s figure out how we’re going to get to Ghilan'nain.”

—-

Rook, for one, is deeply pleased to see the Inquisitor and Morrigan burst through the door. Especially considering the alternative had previously been either Venatori or Darkspawn.

Commander Cullen is… less so. The large man barrels forward with a grim fury in his eyes as Rook sags with relief against the nearest wall. The Commander has a small cut on his brow that has bled down the side of his face and he is splattered in blight, blood and general grime like the rest of them. The man is certainly formidable with sword and shield, and he may not have brought an army but he’d probably saved Rook’s life a dozen times on their way through the barrier.

The Inquisitor looks pristine in contrast, her nondescript robes are spotless and her coppery hair is carefully braided away from her face. She’s pretty and stately as always, but pale and sharp like a small dagger. She looks to her Commander with steely resolve and the air of a woman who’s been here before.

“I thought we agreed you would remain behind,” Cullen bites out.

Magister Dorian slips past them with an affectionate roll of his eyes for Rook’s benefit. Clearly this is a display he’s seen before.

The Inquisitor smirks but the steel in her eyes remains. “What, and let you have all the fun.”

“Evelyn-“

“Not Inquisitor?”

“You shouldn’t be here. We agreed.”

She sighs, shoulders sagging a little. “Cullen… I have to try.”

“You have tried,” Cullen insists. “For Makers sake, Inquisitor he cut your hand off and left you unconscious and alone.”

Huh. Rook adds dismemberment to his long list of reasons why Solas is an ass.

“Well yes, but he did it to save my life.”

Cullen shakes his head. “So he claimed but in case it’s escaped your notice he’s rather known for lying.”

“It is pretty hard to deny that the Mark had been killing me, love.” She looks at him and there’s a pleading in her eyes. “This time it’s different, we’ve got Mythal and-“

Cullen reaches out and takes her arm and the moment becomes instantly more intimate and Rook can read the anguish in the other man’s face. He should look away but finds he can’t. Transfixed by the devotion nakedly on display.

“Evelyn, please, it’s too dangerous. We aren’t as young as we once were and I can’t bear the thought of you endangering yourself again. Not after what he did to Varric.”

The mention of Varric burns, a fresh and gapping wound.

The Inquisitor reaches up to cup the Commander’s cheek and she mutters a spell softly under her breath, healing his wound. She pulls a handkerchief from her robes and mops gently at the blood left behind. The sharpness in her dulls and her fingers linger at his jaw. “Typical of you to berate me for risking my life while you’re covered in blood. Besides, you’re the old one. I’m a full six years younger than you and in the prime of my life.”

Cullen grabs her hand and traps it against his face. He closes his eyes for a moment with the air of a man praying for patience. “Ten years hasn’t made you take matters more seriously,” he says dryly.

The Inquisitor chuckles. “And here I thought you fell in love with me for my fantastic sense of humor and great a-“

Cullen shuts her up with a kiss. Firm. Desperate. Lingering. Rook finally manages to look away to find Neve watching him. This time her expression is very easy to read. He peels himself away from the wall and sheathes his sword. A kiss sounds rather nice, he decides.

—-

Solas disappears and the veil snaps closed with a sound like a clap of thunder. Silence descends as the enormity of what just happened hovers just beyond Rook’s comprehension.

It’s over. It’s really over.

Next to him, the Inquisitor sinks to her knees, fingers pressed to her lips. There are tears in her eyes. Rook follows suit, though his own decent is much less.. graceful. Neve helps him down and he uses his sword for a bit of support as the aftershocks of adrenaline and pure relief course through him. His entire body beneath his armor feels like one giant bruise, but he throws an arm around Neve’s shoulders and plants a sound kiss to her temple that makes her blush before she sinks into him. It strikes him that he has time. So much time now. To touch, to kiss, to talk. To laugh.

“It’s over,” the Inquisitor whispers. “He’s gone.”

Commander Cullen is rushing across the terrace, worry etched on his face. The rest of Rook’s team is fast on his heels. The Inquisitor must recognize the clattering sound of Cullen’s approach because she forces herself unsteadily to her feet. She turns just in time for her Commander to gather her into his arms.

“Thank the Maker,” he says with the reverence of a true believer and he takes the Inquisitor’s face in his hands, looking her over for injury.

The Inquisitor laughs. It’s a bright sound, like the chiming of a bell, and shoves his hands away to throw her arms around his neck.

Cullen stumbles back a step and then swings her around once, twice, his smile blinding. They kiss, tenderly. When the Inquisitor pulls away, however, she looks toward the space where Solas had once stood and there is sadness and regret in her eyes.

“He went willingly… alone… possibly forever.”

Cullen’s mouth forms a hard line. “He has much to atone for.”

“Yes… I know. I only wish-I don’t know, that we’d had more time to talk. He was my friend once…”

Cullen only squeezes her gently before setting her on her feet. The Inquisitor turns to Rook, an air of formality settling about her like a cloak. It makes him sit a bit straighter. In her simple robes with wisps of hair fluttering in the breeze, she manages to look regal.

“Thank you, Rook, for helping me finish this.”

He manages a nod, not at all sure how to react. “Hard to imagine where we go from here,” he says, then looks at Neve whose heart is shinning in her eyes. “Well, I suppose you two have given me a few ideas.”

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Human Optimism

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“I will be direct with you; I was against your coming here.”

Yafin had not expected such a direct response from the head doctor and was momentarily silenced as they continued.

“When I first read your request to interview one of our oldest patients I saw it for what it really was; a puff piece meant to make a name for yourself with no regard for the patient.”

 “Now that’s not-“ Yafin began before the head doctor cut him off.

“But you wouldn’t take no for an answer and decided to go over my head to the hospital board and pitch it which is the only reason you are sitting here today.”

“Dr. Timlock, I want to assure you your fears are unfounded.” Yafin began but he saw from Timlock’s expression he would make no headway there. “Yet as you mentioned the board liked my story pitch and so regardless of what you may feel this interview is ongoing.”

“Furthermore,” he added for extra spite, “your patient even agreed to the interview and so your say in the matter has lost relevancy.”

The room was silent as the doctor fixed him with the coldest glare he had ever seen. A chill ran up his spine and he felt the room suddenly become ten degrees colder as the doctor stood up from behind her desk and walked around to him.

“Listen here you little sha’rav,” Timlock spoke through gritted fangs, “you may have gotten this sham of an interview but I am still the head doctor of this facility. If I see your questions making the patient uncomfortable or their heart rate jump even by the slightest of margins I will end it right there and then and have your legs broken.”

“That wouldn’t kill me.” Yafin chuckled.

“I know,” the doctor countered with a devilish grin, “just enough to put you into the hospital. MY, hospital; where I will make sure you don’t leave for a long, long time. Do you understand me?”

Yafin’s amused expression quickly fell away as he nodded in silence.

 “Good.” She finished and began walking to the door. “Let’s go meet your subject.” ------------------

Wayfare Station was the most advanced medical facility this side of the quadrant. It operated as a massive two tier medical institution. The first tier comprised of nearly a hundred levels capable of caring for over three hundred different species and the specific environments of their homeworlds to maximize treatment and care, while the second tier comprised of an equal number of levels dedicated to the most advanced form of medical research and testing facilities for cutting edge treatments.

Dr. Timlock was the head doctor and as such maintained a constant stream of data being sent from both tiers of her hospital. Any other doctor would have been overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information but Dr. Timlock was a Vikarian which meant her advanced neural pathways were more than capable of consuming the information and responding in short order. Everything from material request forms to latest emergency admissions she was kept apprised of.

Yafin strode after the doctor as she led them to the research tier of the facility where his interview subject was being kept for observation. It was easy to tell the transition between the two as the hallways slowly began to thin out in crowds of patients only to be replaced by an ever increasing amount of security checkpoints.

“Is this level of security necessary?” Yafin asked as they cleared the sixth checkpoint in the last thirty minutes.

Dr. Timlock let out a snort of amusement but didn’t bother to turn and address him directly as they continued walking.

“What we do here is ground breaking medical research for the betterment of the universe,” she said as they cleared yet another checkpoint that included viral gene scanning, “there isn’t a day going by that we don’t have some form of corporate espionage agent trying to break and steal that research for monetary gains.”

As if to emphasize the point Yafin cleared the next checkpoint and was greeted with the sight of a technician sprinting down the corridor with a jar of some kind before being tackled by three security personnel.

“Doctor.” One of them nodded as Timlock approached. They tilted their head in the direction of the technician being hoisted up, their hands not in iron cuffs. “Caught this one trying to steal the latest batch of treatments for bay 17.”

 Timlock looked over the spy and scoffed. “Couldn’t even wait for a shift change I see; amateurs.”

She turned her attention back to the security guard. “Excellent work as always; have them handed over to authorities and ask for max sentence to be applied.”

The guard nodded and hauled the spy away as Yafin watched; his fingers rapidly typing out what had happened on his digipad.

“What makes you think the authorities would take your recommendation into account for punishment?” Yafin asked as the pair resumed their pace.

Timlock shrugged as if the matter was now little more than an annoyance. “When you hold the lives of many an injured officer in your hands and bring them back form the cold grasp of death they tend to be generous with gratitude.”

Yafin would have liked to press this line of questioning more when the doctor suddenly stopped outside of a pair of thick green plated doors.

“Bay 233,” Dr. Timlock spoke as she swiped her security badge along the access panel, “they’re expecting you.”

The sound of thick metal bolts withdrawing drew Yafin’s attention and the thick metal doors slowly retracted into the doorway revealing a dark interior lit only by several small floor lights inlaid into the walls.

Yafin made to step forward but felt a tight hand grab his shoulder. He looked to see the Doctor fixing him with her cold gaze once more.

“Remember what I said.” she spoke.

Yafin gulped loudly and nodded. With the understanding achieved the doctor removed her grip and allowed Yafin to enter the room. She stepped in after him and the thick metal doors slowly returned to place sealing the room off with a loud thud that made Yafin jump.

“Security measure.” Timlock replied with a trace of amusement. “Nothing can get out of this room that could endanger the facility.”

Before Yafin could ask what they meant by that the floor opposite the doorway suddenly creaked and a large portion of it suddenly sunk into the floor. It peeled away effortlessly as a large cylinder like object began to slowly emerge from the ground.

“Suspended animation?” Yafin asked as he recognized the device as it continued to rise. Dr. Timlock shook her head.

“The treatment side effect made it so long term suspension was untenable. The tube itself serves as a convenient housing apparatus for the time being.”

The cylinder jerked to a stop as it ceased rising and the floor tiles closed back around it. Yafin approached the tube and with the sleeve of his arm wiped away a portion of the built up frost on the side to get a better look at the occupant inside. As he wiped it away a pair of cold green eyes were watching him from beneath the frost and Yafin let out a yelp of surprise before stumbling backwards.  

“May I introduce you to Mr. Morris Findel.” Dr. Timlock spoke up as she held on to her amused smile. “The longest patient held within our hallowed walls by four years.”

“Three years……362 days…to be….exact.”

Yafin looked around for the voice only to see it coming from a voice module built into the side of the tube. Timlock looked unphased by the correction and took a seat along the wall.

“On our world we don’t have 365 days.” She corrected Mr. Findel.

“I’m….human….” the voice continued with robotic overtones, “Of course….I count….by human….days.”

Yafin straightened himself up and finally got a better look at the subject of his interview and wished he hadn’t.

For a moment he thought the tank’s healing fluids had been corrupted as he could barely see Mr. Findel’s face. Yet upon closer inspection Yafin saw that the black fluid swirling around him was not the mistake of a cleaning system, but in fact swarms of machines clumped together into black masses. He was seemingly naked save for the long breathing tube that descended from the top of the tank and connected to his mouth, but the black swarms made it difficult to tell.  

“It’s…rude…to stare.”

Yafin’s observations were broken as the Mr. Findel was now looking directly at him.

“My apologies.” Yafin quickly replied. To his surprise the voice module chimed with robotic laughter.

“Just….pulling…your…chain.”

Yafin was confused by the dialogue and turned to Dr. Timlock to ask if the machine was broken. “It’s a human saying.” Was all she replied before allowing him to turn back around.

“Thank you for meeting with me today.” Yafin began. “I know it must be difficult with your current condition.”

“Oh?” Mr. Findel inquired. “And what….condition…is that?”

Yafin had not expected this question. His mouth opened and closed several times as he tried to find the words without sounding offensive.

“Well…..with missing all your limbs.” He finally stammered out.

To his surprise Mr. Findel’s expression adopted one of confusion.

“What….do…you mean?” he asked. “My limbs…..are right-“

Through the black mass Mr. Findel lifted what had once been his left arm only to find it severed at the elbow; his eyes growing wide in shock.

“What…is…..where….is my…arm!?”

Voice modules were notorious for lacking ability to convey emotion but Mr. Findel’s body motions were becoming frantic as he moved his body to check his other limbs and see them through the black goop of machines.

His right arm was completely gone from the shoulder, his right leg ending at the knee and his left leg only having the ball joint in his torso.

“Oh….god….” the machine began to repeat over and over as the human thrashed around in his tube.

“What did I tell you!?” Dr. Timlock’s voice shouted from behind a stupefied Yafin.

“I didn’t mean-“ Yafin began before he heard the door open once more and a pair of security guards entered.

“Get him out of my sight at once!” Timlock shouted as she ran over to the tube and began entering in several keys in rapid succession. Red warning lights descended from the ceiling as the reporter was whisked away, his last glimpse of his would be interviewee being of one of sheer panic and fear before the doors closed shut on the patient and his career. ------------------

“You….think…he…bought it?”

“Oh you really got him good with that one.”

Dr. Timlock grinned from ear to ear as the door closed behind her and the warning lights suddenly turned off. The room was quiet once more with just her and her patient alone to converse.

“I’ve…been…working on…my acting.” Mr. Findel said with an apparent grin beneath his breathing tube.

“Don’t oversell yourself.” The doctor countered as she pulled up the chair from the wall and sat down in front of Mr. Findel’s tube. “You’re no Danika Wade.”

“Everyone…is…critic.” Mr. Findel replied as he let himself be swirled around in the tube by the tiny machines.

Timlock watched this and the amusement of their prank began to fade away as old memories resurfaced.

She remembered the night Mr. Findel was rushed into her hospital. He was an engineer at the time who had been standing inside the engine room of his ship when a grade 3 explosion was triggered by a faulty power coupling. It blew him to pieces and the ship had barely limped to the hospital station before it suffered catastrophic failure and detonated as the patients were being offloaded.

Findel was projected to be die from his wounds within the hour and her lead at the time told her to move on to other patients that could be saved. Timlock had disagreed at the time and had chosen to do something drastic.

Rushing into one of the research wings, she came back with an experimental vial of nano-machines that were designed to repair even the most serious injuries. Her lead protested the usage of the experimental treatment but Timlock had administrated it anyway.

She’d watched as the machines began to repair the wounds, but all took quickly did she realize why it had remained experimental tech.

Without a base template to work off of the machines could not fully repair the body. They did not regrow his limbs to their former length and dexterity, but instead sealed the wounds shut and designated that he had reached stable condition.

Mr. Findel’s condition had stabilized, but he was still suffering from immense pain internally as not all his wounds were fully healed. When doctors tried to operate on him the machines would rapidly undo their work and “Restore” him to their designated default state leaving him in a state of suffering. Even EMP treatment was unable to disable the machines as more often one was left unaffected from the EMP and would rapidly multiply.

Timlock was nearly fired that day had it not been for the fact that to fire her would have meant admitting the hospital was incapable of treating all ailments and would damage the view in which the hospital was seen universally. So it was swept under the rug, quietly.

Mr. Findel was moved to a research wing for further treatments while Dr. Timlock was now assigned as his overseer. She dedicated much of her time to rising through the ranks to eventually have enough sway to divert the much needed materials to finally cure Mr. Findel of his current tortured existence.

“Is….something….wrong?”

Timlock’s dive into the past was broken by Mr. Findel’s voice. She looked up at him floating in a tube of her own making and sighed.

“Was thinking of the day we met,” she remarked, “and how I failed you.”

“Could….be..worse.” Mr. Findel replied as he shrugged his shoulders.

Dr. Timlock let out a chuckle of disbelief. “How? How could this be any worse?”

“Could…be…dead.” He replied almost immediately.

Timlock’s mouth hung open for a moment before finally relenting to a question she had long since wondered herself.

“Do you want to be?”

Findel said nothing and so the doctor continued.

“I’m no closer to finding a way to turn off those damn things and you’ve been stuck like this for four years.”

“Three-“ Findel began but Timlock would not be interrupted.

“Every day you’ve had since then has been nothing but pain and anguish. Don’t you want it to stop?!”

Findel floated in silence as he pondered the doctor’s words. He could see the years of failures to resolve her debacle weighed heavy around her neck.

“Yesterday…” Findel finally began. “I….didn’t know…..you…were bringing…reporter.”

“What does that have to do with anything!?” Timlock snapped back.

Findel’s expression softened. “Today….was….fun…because…of it.”

Timlock watched in disbelief. The fact that this human, this object of near constant suffering, still had some semblance of fun was almost beyond her capability to reason.

“Tomorrow….may..be worse…” Findel continued, “or……it may be.... better. I…..don’t know…..and that’s…why I….keep going….always…the chance….to be….better.”

[absolutesomp]

click for better image quality

my guy so mortal he can't handle specs's ~+30 stash. story and concept details under the cut

Originally I was trying to fill in the space between bill coming back and the events of the handyman au, but it got away from me. It's also what happens when I slap that au and Misery by Stephen King together, sort of. #miserabill au i guess

Anyways, in this au/future in order to hopefully lure some of the henchmaniacs that are still at large, bill is released back to his body, completely powerless and weaker. His immediate order of business is to destroy the ankle tracker, unfortunately because he got nerfed his body doesn't instantaneously heal. He ends up getting chased by gnomes (?), loses his hat, and runs to the mystery shack which is temporarily run by Melody since Soos is away for a week or 2 for reasons. Bill passes out because of unfun pain, and Melody takes the life size triangle in. From there its just... idk plot, maybe some inversions of the gf episodes.

Melody would 100 % try contact the Pines about it but due to winter weather (yea its winter) it gets delayed. When she does I think there would be some kind of argument about whether to shoot him with a space gun or not cause it might "release him" from his flesh (?) prison. So he's just stuck there plotting his way to power. Also they have read the Book of Bill, but the theraprism part was not in it for them.

A couple plots I have in my head are bill doing the drunk transcript thing with the Pines on a group call and gets bullied, the shape shifter is back and wants that sweet sweet monster knowledge bill has, the Stans try to take a interdimensional short cut to the shack but end-up running into a few of the henchmaniacs who are lying low (for now) they're running a little middle-of-nowhere diner ig, the swap carpet is back, melody just generally having to keep track the oldest child in the universe, and everyone and everything in gravity falls wanting to fight him. Abuelita is there too.

Also, Bill doesn't have crack on his physical form, but has them on his dreamscape/nightmare realm/astral projection form.

[doublechocolate]

Haibara dissecting Conan/Shinichi like he's some kind of experiment ksjksjf

I think it was around this time when I started to seriously ship them. Haibara, at this stage, was still given the "cold and mysterious" status of a character but the story didn't shy away from showing us how her empathy extended beyond her own needs. She was well aware of Conan/Shinichi's pain, and also Ran's, because she finds herself to be in that same position as them, and has gone through layers of her own emotional turmoil by this point to recognize this.

But more than that, it's blatantly obvious here that if there's anyone who can understand Conan, it's her. There's a level of understanding between them that's deep and personal. And yes, Conan has that with others too, you can argue that, but what he has with Haibara is slightly different. You see, their "friendship" was born out of pain and trauma. They were each others' "doom", in a sense. Haibara created the APTX4869 drug while Conan failed to save Akemi. They saw the sides of each other that others haven't and had to learn to trust each other in their own way. Slowly, they grew to understand one another and from doom, they became each others' hope.

(Long rambling under cut)

There are many instances of Conan being able to understand Haibara's thoughts by merely watching her actions but to me, the one that stood out the most was none other than m26 Black Iron Submarine (not canon to you but canon to me) when they were underwater and Haibara is about let Conan's hand go but he pulls her back up. The entire conversation takes place inside their heads yet they knew exactly what each other was saying. Remember that post I made about them being drift-compatible?

That's why I think Conan is still unaware just how big of a presence Haibara is in his life. He came close to that in m26 but with Pinga, BO and Haibara's kidnapping, he didn't exactly have the time to sit and ponder over it. Surely people (non-shippers) would chalk it up to you, "aakchuallyyyy he just needs her for the antidote". But... are you sure? Are you really, really sure that that's all he is to her? Is that all you understand about Conan/Shinichi as a character? Even Takayama Minami and Hayashibara Megumi commented on how Conan losing his cool and becoming short-tempered when Haibara got kidnapped was unusual of him. In their opinion, the only reason why Conan calmed down was because of Agasa and how the Prof almost risked doing something reckless to save Haibara. Only then Conan realized he needed to remain calm to keep Agasa in check.

And also, Haibara noticed Pinga and Vodka's presence in the hotel first but Conan only noticed when Haibara was in danger. His train of thought literally went; something happened to Haibara -> it's the Organization -> oh shit they've taken her. Like, hello?? Excuse me?? What is this soulmate-level telepathy going on here right in front of my salad??

I've ~kinda~ mentioned this before in a passing before, but CoAi lowkey reminds me of SyaoSaku (from CCS) but in a different font - a more painful and (perhaps) tragic one. Haibara being Syaoran's counterpart, and Conan being Sakura's counterpart. Example; Sakura's infatuation for Yukito was loud and out there, literally everyone knew about it too (Conan/Shinichi with Ran). Meanwhile, Sakura's love for Syaoran was already growing quietly within her. She was showing signs of it but was too distracted to realize it, until the time came when Syaoran was going to leave Japan and return to Hong Kong. All of a sudden it hit her like a train that it was too painful to let him go (Conan/Shinichi with Haibara/Shiho).

This is why I'm convinced that when all of this is over, Conan will have to face the reality of just what Haibara means to him. It doesn't matter if Aoyama doesn't want to explore this, or chooses to address this in a different way. It's his story, he can do what he wants. But personally for me? I know Conan simply cannot go back to his original life as Kudou Shinichi anymore. He's too far changed, forced to recognize the grayness in a world he deemed black and white, empathize with people he would have classified as "criminals" in the past, and live a life of white lie even it meant hurting the people he cared for the most - in short, Conan/Shinichi simply cannot go back to being the same person he was before Tropical Land. And the one person we know for sure who will be able to understand him despite all of this, is Haibara.

I saw a comment once saying that CoAi/ShinShi are supplementary and wouldn't work. I disagree because I think they are more of a narrative foil. Haibara's existence in Conan's life taught him that he isn't invincible (failure to save Akemi) and that not everyone from the Black Organization are cold-blooded assassins. Haibara had her life and freedom stolen from her. Conan, otoh, taught Haibara to live. To not run away from life and to learn to trust people again. All the important people in life left her at some point, but Conan was the only one who kept coming back for her when she chose to give up, holding her hand as tightly as he can.

Conan, the boy who has everything. Haibara, the girl who lost everything. Conan, the boy who keeps trying to dig deeper into the viper's nest. Haibara, the girl who has lived in the viper's nest trying to pull him back from diving further. Conan, the boy who wants to keep tempting fate to save his friends. Haibara, the girl who is willing to die to save her friends. Conan, the boy who thinks his actions of holding back his love is immature. Haibara, the girl who understands his pain enough to know he is anything but. Conan, the boy whose life changed because of the drug Haibara created but in a way also saved his life (Gin chose to not shoot him in the head but fed him the drug instead). Haibara, the girl who lost her sister because Conan couldn't save her but now he'd do anything to make sure she stays alive.

Whether you ship them or not, or see them merely as friends, you can't deny that they play huge roles in each other's lives. We know that when the end comes, Haibara will be willing to let Conan go. She might have already prepared herself for this, even, because Ran is the last person she'd want to hurt at this point. Her resemblance to Akemi is too strong now and she knows Ran adores her a lot too. And from that scene above, we know Haibara feels the same pain Ran and Conan/Shinichi are going through.

But. Will Conan be able to do the same? Can he simply let go of Haibara and return to his old life? Even if Haibara/Shiho does remain in his life, when the dust is settled, can he truly move on from the person whom he has experienced so many life and death encounters with, and in a way, shaped him into becoming the person he is today?

We know the love is one-sided now because we're almost always seeing it from Haibara/Shiho's perspective. But how can we be so sure that something isn't growing deep down in Conan/Shinichi's heart too? If it's something subtle and quiet like the flap of a butterfly's wings now, eventually growing into something that could literally change the course of his life?

If you understand Conan/Shinichi as a person, beyond the shipping lenses, then I think the answer is already obvious.

"It's not cause the creator said so. They're just friends and Shinichi already confessed to someone else". Okay, like I said, the creator can do whatever he wants with his story. I AM choosing to read between the lines based on what that same creator has presented to us. I'm also always reminded of the Akai/Jodie/Akemi love story and how that panned out. I'm saying, things can happen because feelings are complex and sometimes you go through experiences in life that changes you inside out. Both Akai and Conan have had their lives stained by the Black Organization.

Not to mention that, in terms of their personalities, CoAi/ShinShi's relationship are quite a stark parallel to Yuusaku and Yukiko's relationship as well. What Conan/Shinichi needs is someone who can match his level of eccentricity yet at the same time call him out when his head floats too high in the clouds. Haibara is that person. And the best part about it is she didn't even have to change herself to match him - that's pretty much her personality already. Fitting in exactly like a puzzle piece.

Anyway, this is long-winded already. i'll stop rambling here. Also, if this breaches containment and reaches a non-shipper/anti and you have something negative to say, please do me a favor and be a mature person. Leave this post and let's both live in peace.

Love you, CoAi nation, bye!

[marvelobsessed134]

Package delivered

A/n: Back again with more Nat smut because I love her and I am down bad soooo yeah enjoy!

Pairings: Masculine!Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Warnings: smut, strap on use, degradation, rough sex, reader wears a maid outfit lol, dom!natasha, sub!reader, squirting, and I think that’s it let me know if I forgot any.

Summary: you and your girlfriends special package as arrived and you have some much needed fun.

It was just a normal afternoon in your small home in the outskirts of New York City when the doorbell rang. You told Nat you’d answer it, right when she was about to get up. The assassin’s eyes were trained on the screen since the New York Giants were playing against the Miami Dolphins. Of course, her being a big Giants fan she has to watch this. However you’re a Dolphins fan so the two of you butt heads all the time about what team is better but it’s all in good fun.

You’re not as invested as she is, you only picked the dolphins because of their name and the cute dolphin logo. You opened the door to find a medium sized cardboard box. Immediately you were filled with excitement and you felt your panties getting wet at the knowledge of what’s inside that box. You picked it up before closing and locking the door, skipping into the living room happily.

“Oh Natty…” you cooed. She looked at you, taking her eyes off the game before asking, “What is it, babe?”

You held the box in the air, “It’s here!”

You saw her eyes go darker and her demeanor shifting. “Oh, our special stuff is here?”

You nodded and jumped up and down before sitting on her lap, pecking her on the lips.

“Can we open it?” You asked.

“Sure, baby of course. Been waiting for this for months.” Long story short you and your girlfriend looked through a sex toy website and got a couple things. A couple sexy costumes for you and a strap for Natasha to wear. You’ve never really had experience with a strap but you’re definitely open to it.

The redhead used her pocket knife to cut through the tape and open the box. Inside were a bunch of packages for the costumes and she took them all out before quickly closing the box.

You furrowed your eyebrows.

“It’s a surprise, detka. There’s a reason I ordered this on my own.” She chuckled.

That made you more excited. You didn’t know what it looked like, how big it was…

Your eyes drifted down to the costumes. They consisted of,

A sexy maid

A sexy nurse

A sexy cop

And a sexy Harley Quinn outfit that was just labeled as a ‘Jester Girl’ to avoid copyright or whatever. The two of you love to act out cheesy porn scenarios and these are the perfect things to do it with. Minus the Harley one because Natasha is a big DC fan and just wants to see her girl in a Harley getup. Can you blame her?

“So, which one do I try on?” You asked.

Natasha scoped over the costumes before her eyes landed on the maid outfit. “This one for sure. You’d make a dirty little maid.”

You chuckled, “Okay. Should I go put it on now?”

“Oh yes please baby.” And with that you walked into your shared bedroom and put on the outfit. It has a short, black velvet skirt with white lace trim and a small apron, a matching crop top with puff sleeves and white detailing.

The skirt was short and you could see your white, cotton panties through them. Natasha loved when you wore white panties for some reason. Something about how innocent it looks.

You took a deep breath before walking out of the doorway and yelling, “Can I come out now?”

“Yes.” Nat called back and you walked down the hall and into the living room. Her eyes were immediately glued to your body and she bit her lip.

“Well, do you like it?” You asked, batting your eyelashes.

“Oh definitely. Give me a twirl baby.” She demanded and you did as you were told.

“Fuck.” She muttered under her breath.

“Nat, I know we’re supposed to do the whole roleplay thing but I’m so horny I need you now.” You whined.

The redhead looked amused at that, “Well then, you’ll be pleasantly surprised with my new cock.”

“Get down on your knees baby.” And you got on your knees, right in front of her crotch. You could see the bulge through her pants. You watched as she undid them before dropping them and her boxers off, revealing the pretty large strap. It was about 7 inches.

Eyes widening, you said, “I don’t know- how is this going to fit in me? I don’t know if I can take it.”

“Oh, you’ll take it. Now, are you gonna suck my dick or not?” So, you quickly got to work by first licking up to the top then taking the whole thing in your mouth. You began to suck her cock while she was sitting back still watching the game.

“Yeah, let’s go!” She cheered.

“Natty?” You asked. You wanted to see if she was enjoying this too. Not just you.

“No talking, slut. Suck my cock.” The Russian said sternly. Your lips parted in shock before obeying her. Fuck, you loved sucking it. It got you even wetter than before.

You moved your head all the way down, taking it at the back of your throat which made you gag. “Oh yeah, look at you choke on my cock.” She smirked.

After awhile, your jaw was tired and Natasha could tell so she grabbed your hair and pulled your head up. She saw the drool dripping from your mouth down to your breasts and the string of saliva connecting you with the strap.

“Tsk, such a dirty maid. Come on up here and lay down for me.”

You laid on the couch and your girlfriend pulled your panties down. “Looks like someone made a mess.” She chuckled before diving into your pussy, eating you out like you were her last meal.

“Oh! Oh god!” You moaned.

Her tongue flicked on your clit before going back in between your folds. “Mmm Nat.” You moaned again before feeling you coming closer and closer to your finish.

“You’re close, I can feel it, cum for me sweetheart.” And you did, crying out.

“Good girl. Hm, you think you’re ready for my dick?”

You nodded furiously.

“Hmmm I don’t know, this pussy’s pretty tight.” She teased as she started to slowly pump two fingers in and out of you.

“No, please, I can take it. I want your big cock so bad.” You moaned desperately.

So, she lined up to your entrance before pushing in. Your eyes rolled back, you whimpered as you felt it stretch your walls.

“Fuck you’re so so tight,” The assassin groaned before starting to thrust into you.

Your brows furrowed and you gripped onto her shoulders. “Mmm faster.”

“What do we say?”

“Please.”

“You want me to go faster baby? I’ll show you faster.” And she quickened her pace, now pounding into you without mercy.

“Yes! Yes! Oh yes!” You cried.

“Oh my god you’re so beautiful.”

“I love you natty.”

“Fuck, I love you too Y/n.”

And as she kept hitting your g spot you clenched around her before squirting all over the toy and the leather couch.

“Holy fuck that’s hot. I didn’t know you were a squirter.” She pulled her strap out before licking up everything. Then, she forced you on your knees again.

“For a maid, you’ve made quite the mess. Clean it up.” Natasha demanded and you sucked her cock once again, licking up your own cum and arousal.

The redhead leaned back, wiping some sweat from her forehead. “Fucking love this day.”

[umathurwin]

your riara fic has me thinking about riara cheating trope but kiara is on the phone with her bf trying not to moan and scream while rafe is eating her out……

i’m sorry but little blondie has to be cucked

(rafe x kiara; nsfw/mild dubcon under the cut)

running up the spiral stairs in the cameron manor was so much more fun when kie knew she wasn’t supposed to be there. 

coming to hang out here used to be a whole production. she’d change her location settings to track her old ipad, which she’d stuff under her bed before sneaking out the side door. she had candid photos of her friend with edited metadata to look like she’d taken them that night in case she had to verify her whereabouts. 

nowadays? too much fucking work. she’d text her boyfriend a i’m going to sarah’s tonight and simply not check her messages again until she was home in her own bed again. usually at 3, 4 in the morning. 

kiara went into rafe’s room and sat cross legged on his bed—he’d be following shortly after grabbing some waters. she considered taking her top off, but he flamed her for being too eager last time and edged her for hours. 

when he finally joined her, she noticed the white phone in his hand— rafe’s was black. she must’ve left hers downstairs, and he was intently focused on the display before turning it to her. 

jj���s face illuminated the screen. if she ever took her phone off silent, it would be ringing at her too, but the room was quiet. “fuck, sorry. i forgot to put it on do not disturb—”

“answer it.”

he extended the phone out to her, but she didn’t move. “i—what? no, i’m not gonna answer it. you know he thinks i’m with sarah!”

“fine. i’ll answer it.” rafe pulled the device back out of her reach and slid his thumb across the screen, connecting the call.

kiara’s hand shot out and snatched it from him, putting the phone to her ear. “hey, babe…”

it was painful. she’d never felt so awkward talking to jj, and it was difficult to leave the casual conversation without giving a reason as to why she couldn’t chat. rafe just smiled and tugged his shirt off from the back of his neck. 

undressing was a bad sign. the countdown timer has begun. 

“so, you having fun with sarah?” the voice on the phone asked, and rafe sank one of his knees into the bed. 

“yeah!” she chirped with panicked, wide eyes, begging rafe to just wait. “she says hello, but she’s peeing right now and can’t talk.”

“gross. her birthday is coming up, right?”

rafe pushed kiara back onto his pillows. keep talking, he mouthed. fuck. 

jj went on about the local places they could celebrate as rafe unbuttoned her shorts and tugged them down her legs. she shook her head a little, trying to make him understand this wasn’t the right time. like he didn’t already know. 

with her tank top pushed up, her panties tangled around one of her ankles, and her boyfriend chatting away on the other end, rafe mashed his entire face between her legs. his tongue dragged across her clit, and he’d be making some obscene noises if his mouth wasn’t fully attached to her pussy. 

“oh my god!” kie cried out, and she felt rafe smile into her cunt. “that restaurant is so good. wasn’t that the place you got half the staff to walk out with you last year? h-how did that happen again?”

“hell yeah! the manager was this total bonehead, right…?” jj trailed off into his story, and she knew he hadn’t been taking his ritalin. she bought herself a few minutes, easily. 

kiara put her phone on mute and set her phone to the side, then threaded her fingers through his hair. she lifted her hips and used his tongue to chase more friction. with her boyfriend unable to hear her, she moaned and whimpered when rafe pulled away. 

“really? you couldn’t even try to keep quiet?” rafe chided, sliding his fingers messily over her swollen cunt. “quitter.”

“shut the fuck up and— oh, fuck!” he dropped his head down and pulled her clit into his mouth. his suckling, her slick on his lips, it was so loud and nasty and it pushed her over the edge easily. 

rafe held her still as she came on his face, and in a brief moment in between her cries and pleas for more, they could both hear jj rattling on, his voice distant and tinny. 

she caught her breath— or at least tried to— and grabbed her phone again to unmute the call. “oh my gosh, babe, i’m sorry but my mom is calling me right now. call you later?”

“oh! yeah, of course. bye, ki—”

kie threw the phone across the room as soon as she heard the hang-up tone. she’d be angrier if she could form a single coherent thought. rafe smirked— maybe his plan will work next time

[woaza]

Hi hi! I am so glad to see more delico's nursery fic, especially from you!! It's a crime the fandom is so small. Lately, I have been obsessed with Gerhard and devouring all your fics like a gourmet meal. Could you write about him being married to a high-position officer (like being part of the High Executive of the Blood Police)? So she is really strong and her true strength lies in her exceptional combat skills, strategic mind, and emotional resilience. Kinda like Mikasa Ackerman level AHAHAHAH I am just a sucker for strong lady :DD I hope you don't mind this long request and remember to take care of yourself!!!

Gerhard x Fem!Officer

Contains : Headcannons!

Word count : 4k

Warnings : Slight mentions of violence in a job setting, Gerhard really ‘appreciating’ readers fit figure, Gerhard a little sexiest? Also not double read through for grammar mistakes.

A/n : I’m so so so happy you like my fics! I’m sorry for the wait on your request. I hope you enjoy it.

— Gerhard was podstivly stunned. When he first saw you. You shook him to his core a bit for sure. You’re very being conflicting with his base beliefs. Such a strong figure and energy you carried. And your a women in the blood police? Why would a woman as beautiful as you want to work in such a violent occupation? Let alone a high executive? Yeah he definitely has his eyes on you.

He saw you at the agency in your Uniform. Badges run down your coat, you boots clicking across the tile as you walked. Not speaking or even giving him a second glance. His eyes visibly widened and he caught his breath, only slightly. Choosing to not let it affect him. Yet for some reason after that one close encounter in the small hallway he started to notice you more often. That’s how your whole romance with the stern man started, his shock.

— After that consider Gerhard your devoted husband. Yeah he was hooked. You didn’t spare him a second glance? Probably didn’t even know who he was other than one of the agencies detectives? Long story short, he ended up over working himself just for even a glance or head nod from you until you and him finally got a proper introduction.

— Lord Fra is a man of a certain cut. He only likes to see things his way. His wife, you, being one of the voices of reason in his life. He listens to you. Like really listens. Never in a million years would he ask anyone for help on a classified assignment but you. Each time he’s stumped you always seem to have an idea or solution, your intelligence without a doubt is his favorite feature about you.

He sits in his chair clutching onto the documents scattered across his desk. The fire place cracking loudly, much to his annoyance. How sometimes he wished he could simply sit in pure silence. This case had him almost completely stumped. His eyebrows furrowed so deep that it seemed as his skin would permanently crease. A the door gently creeks open and you strut into the room. “Still on the Mr.Morhead case?” Walking behind him and leaning over his shoulder. Your hands moving to rest on either side of his neck. He does nothing but grumble a bit. “Did you check with his wife, I haven’t seen a file or report come though about her yet?” You whisper quietly, patiently as you scan over the papers. His eyes widen, he wasn’t aware or even informed the man was married. You always seemed to point out little details he missed. It may seem like it annoys him, but don’t be fooled. He loves it.

— He could rave and rave about your mind for days. Unlike other women he’s tried to pursue you are by far the most extraordinary.

— Will go out of his way just to catch a glimpse of you, even if it’s a second. Sometimes you spend early mornings in the Garden with Angelico and one of the house maids. Even though the South wing hall is completely out of his way when he’s leaving for work, he will walk through that because it’s the only one with windows facing the area of the garden your drink your morning tea in. It literally a brief moment and completely out of his way, but he makes the effort.

— Further on that, everything about you to him is perfect. Nothing less for the head of the house Fra. In the weekend evenings when you go in for a bath, ignoring how it improper it is. He likes to help you undress for your bath. His eyes locked onto your lean muscles. Your body a work of art, showing every hour that you’ve put into your work. He finds your dedication extremely attractive.

— Never can beat you in chess, it’s drives him a bit mad. Your ability to always be one step ahead of him is simply humbling. Which is a hard feeling for him to be grapple with. ‘Lord Fra being beaten by his wife in a simple game of chess?’ He can practically hear people say (which no will never know of it and he’ll be sure of that) and it’s embarrassing for him. Then he look up at you sitting across the board heavily contemplating your next move, “oh yes, that’s my wife… the general and head of command.” It makes his fragile ego feel better.

—In the end you never ever cease to amazing and will never admit it, but worships the very air your breath. 

A/n #2: sorry this was a little short! Hope you enjoyed it! Maybe I’ll have to elaborate on this more. I liked this request a lot!