#help me reach more followers on tumbler

[nicoletabard]

I’m finally back on tumblr #backontumbler

#please like and share #finally back #newpost #like this statue #help me reach more followers on tumbler

[dc418writes]

✨Pairing✨: softdark!assassin!Curtis Everettxblack!reader

Summary🪄: the mysterious man in the corner booth is gonna make you wish you stayed home

🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!!!, language, mentions of alcohol, mentions of adult happy fun times, allusion to reader being held against her will (so dubcon..?? Ish??? 🤷🏽‍♀️)

A/N🎤: hello☺️! This is my submission to the @secretswiftymarvelfan I Love You 3000 Writing Bonanza✨! Congrats again on 3000 followers👏🏾👏🏾!! I hope you - and everyone else who reads - like what I put together!

*DISCLAIMER!: although visual made by me via Canva, I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

AU: assassin, Trope: one night only, Dialogue: “I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want”

Taking a deep breath, you stand smoothing your white tennis skirt down against your thighs before making your way to the ridiculously handsome man your friends pushed you into talking to.

“Girl take a chance for once!”

“I-I don’t want to bother him. Plus I’m sure he already has someone,” you replied nervously holding your hands in your lap. From your quick glances his way, he seemed unimpressed with everything - and potentially everyone - around. Content and enjoying his solace.

“Well you won’t know unless you ask,” your other friend countered in a sing-song manner fluttering her newest lash extensions.

Now here you were nearly to the corner booth in the dimmest part of the bar with your fruity cocktail in hand as your pink, strappy heels tapped against the floor. The stranger’s eyes locked with yours as he sips his own glass tumbler half filled with a brown liquid. How his tongue peeks out to collect the small droplets left, paired with the corner of his mouth tilting in the slightest smirk, leaves an involuntary flutter in your lower abdomen that carries down into your core.

Your cheeks - and overall body - warm as you finally reach your destination. “H-Hi.”

He gently bows his shaved head, “Hello.”

“Sorry to bother you. M-My friends and I made this pact to try new things this year and mine is to walk up to a guy I’m attracted to since I don’t really do that so here I am…”

“I’m not surprised.” You feel your mood fall at his words and embarrassment swell in your chest. How foolish of you to think you could do this? That you had an ounce of sex appeal or confidence like those other girls you saw easily able to grab any man they wanted. It’s exactly why you stayed to yourself. Your ultimate fear of rejection keeping you rooted in your seat or at home.

“O-Oh?,” is all you can muster feeling even more stupid that you didn’t even have a solid retort.

“As gorgeous as you are, I’m sure you always have men coming up to you. No need for you to do any work,” he explains making a shy smile spread along your glossy lips and relief soothe the uneasiness of your stomach. He extends his hand to the seat next to him motioning for you to join him, which you gladly take with a quiet “thank you.”

“Truthfully, it’s my friends that get all the attention. Guys usually just walk past me to get to them.”

“Nothing against your friends, but sounds like those boys were idiots,” he firmly states before taking a last pull of his drink to finish it. The tic in his jaw as if he’s bothered by those other men even though he doesn’t know them. As if he’s annoyed at just their mere mention. “Then again, should probably thank em for allowing us to meet huh?”

At that, you seem to lose your train of thought immediately letting your eyes fall to your lap again so giddy from his words. A brief silence falls over your table, but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable in the slightest. Finally peeking up again, his ocean eyes - and overall expression - turn a bit softer, which doesn’t help the butterflies erupting in what feels like your whole body.

“Shit, sweetheart you got me forgetting my manners. Curtis,” he introduces in a deep drawl that sends tingles up your spine. Holding his hand out, you notice intricate, black ink along the back of his hand and knuckles - in a design you can’t exactly make out - that looks to extend all the way up his arm covered by his black long sleeve shirt. You feel guilty for it, but you let your mind wander to how far it exactly goes. To his solid chest? His, probably, perfectly sculpted back maybe? Across his firm pecs and down to his abs you could visibly make out through his shirt?

The longer your mind imagined, the more that itch to find out grew stronger. And when you placed your hand in his - noting just how much larger it was than yours, not to mention stronger - you knew you were done for.

“Y/N.”

•

It’s pitch black when you finally awake to the quiet room. The side of your face pressed into the vanilla bourbon scented pillow below you - the same one Curtis had you drooling, moaning, and pleading in majority of the night.

The way he wrung your body exhausted pulling orgasms one after the other - you honestly couldn’t remember the exact number from your brain turning into mush after the second - you’d think he created you. Molded you with his own hands and knew just where he hid that special spot inside you. Then again, maybe it was just from you being..well..out of commission for some time.

Slightly lifting your head, you finally notice you’re lying by yourself in his king sized bed. The sheets pulled up to cover your back and keep you warm.

Additionally, just how quiet it is around you as if you’re the only one there period.

“C-Curtis?,” you hoarsely call out hoping he just journeyed to the kitchen or even another room for a call. Having a house so extravagant, clearly he had to do something highly important that took most of his time.

But you’re met with silence, causing the once tired smile along your lips to falter.

You thought he really liked you. That he would’ve wanted to see you again sometime and maybe grow into something more. “That’s why they call it one night stand,” you mumble to yourself feeling the crack in your heart spread bit by bit as you slide from under the warm covers to collect your things.

It seems like your stomach becomes queasy again with every piece of clothing you put on; making you study your earlier conversation trying to discover any missed signs or warnings. Of course you still didn’t see any, only making you feel foolish and ashamed all over again.

Heels clacking and echoing throughout the home, you’re too busy reserving an Uber on your phone to notice Curtis standing in front of the main door until you nearly run into him. A startled scream pushing from your lungs as one hand lands on your chest and the other drops your phone to the hardwood floor.

With his black top and black pants, he looked as if he’d been in combat having hand guns hanging from the harness strapped across his upper body. Black gloves covering his hands, and red dots splattered along his face match the dripping streaks on his top that are undoubtedly blood.

His expression, hard and stoic, causes an increase in your heart rate now nervous and confused as to what happened to his overall state let alone the change in his mood.

“What happened to you?,” you quietly ask.

“Nothing you need to worry about. And that’s also the first and last time you ask about my business, got it?” His harsher tone has you slightly flinching; taking a step back as you gently nod your head.

“I-I’m sorry..I didn’t mean-,”

“Pretty sure I left you asleep,” he retorts removing his gloves.

“I was looking for you a-and I saw you were gone,” you stammer wrapping your arms around yourself. “I thought-,”

“That this was over? Oh sweetheart you’re too cute.” His words should have you jumping for joy and excited, but his deep chuckle - more menacing than comforting - causes an unwelcome sinking in your gut.

One swift stride forward with his long legs, and Curtis catches your chin in his hand pressing his fingers into your cheeks hard enough to make your plump lips pout and a surprised whimper to leave your heaving chest. You had no choice but to face those blue eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite place; only worsening your nerves.

“I’ll let you know now I’m hard to get rid of,” he whispers ghosting his lips over yours. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get what I want. Who I want.”

You remain quiet - as if you could even try to fight - letting his grip loosen until his fingertips drag from the side of your neck to your collarbone making you shiver. Your body still somehow willing to give in to this man who surely was more dangerous than you could imagine.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen. We’re gonna get out these clothes and you’re gonna help me clean up in the shower. I’ll put you back to sleep then order breakfast for us in the morning, where you’ll rightly apologize for trying to leave in whatever way I see fit until our food arrives. Understand button?”

You need to fight. Any logical person would scream and shout to the heavens punching and kicking past the point of exhaustion in this situation. Yet you were stuck. Partially from fear of not knowing what Curtis was truly capable of, and partially from your greedy core loving that idea. You could feel the light throb and arousal begin to leak from you making your thighs clinch.

Of course he notices too from the smug smirk on his lips. “Y-Yes,” you softly answer.

“Good girl.”

Who would’ve thought your first - well almost - one night stand would be your last?

#niamh loves you 3000 #curtis everett #curtis everett au #curtis everett x woc!reader #curtis everett x black!reader #curtis everett x reader #snowpiercer #chris evans #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc!reader

[mrsmandalorian]

City Nights

Part 3 of City Lights, Country Nights- Cowboy!Joel x Techie! f!Reader

A/N: Howdy, everyone! Thank you so much for loving this series! 🫶🏼 I hope you enjoy this part. I have been watching some cowboy films and series to get inspiration. The bar scene reminds me of Yellowstone, lol. Let me know what everyone thinks and wants to see!

Summary: Joel surprises the reader by visiting her and tagging along for ladies' night in the city. Something happens to bring up old insecure memories.

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, no outbreak AU,  pet names (baby, angel, darling), fluff!!!!, flirting, make-out, drinking, drunk reader, almost bar fight, bar settings, jealousy, insecurity, cowboy! Joel is a dream man. 

The 5:30 alarm rang earlier than expected on Monday morning. The warm arm and body wrapped around you gently pulled away with a groan. Your time with your cowboy was almost over. You stretched your body as you rolled over to meet handsome brown eyes staring into your eyes. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” he whispers as he pulls your hips into his as he faces you. He gives your lips a lazily placed kiss and then runs his scruffy chin against your neck, causing you to giggle loudly. 

“Morning, handsome,” you giggled back. You quickly got up before he could tickle you all over. You find an easy way to escape him as he tries to catch you. “It’s time to get ready for the day, lazy cowboy.’

He gets up with a grunt and rolls his eyes at your comment. You both spend the next twenty minutes getting ready for the day. Your work clothes look very different from what you wear around the ranch. It's more business casual than cute overalls with your hair up. Joel helps you pack your bags and get ready to go. The two of you had this routine down to an art. If you left the ranch at six o'clock on the dot, you could be pulling into the parking lot at work on time. 

Joel made your coffee in your to-go tumbler and set it in the kitchen with your purse and phones. You walked into the room with your toiletry bag in hand. He had already packed the car and started it for you. He was indeed an angel and was better at time management than you were sometimes. Even Sassy knew what time it was as she followed you outside the house to your car—giving her some quick love and a promise to see her soon, walking to your vehicle where Joel was waiting for you. 

You give him a sad smile as you pull each other into a long hug. “I’m going to miss you, handsome. Thank you for a perfect weekend as usual,” you mumble into his neck as you hug him. He pulls away and gives you a quick peck, smiling down at you. 

“I’m going to miss you more, darling. It’s hard to let you go. You know you don’t have to work. Just sit pretty on my porch with some ice-cold lemonade,” he jokes to you as he kisses your cheek, his scruff tickling your skin. Joel was only kidding with you about your job. He knew and loved that your independence was critical and didn’t mind it as long as you were happy. You had a life in the city, and that’s where your family and friends besides them were. You and Joel had excellent communication (most of the time) of each other’s plans without pushing the border of clingy. He did wish you were closer, but he was grateful for every second he got to be with you. You had not told him yet, but there have been talks with your boss about you working from home more often. He might just need to update his internet package for that to happen. 

“I’ll see you soon, cowboy,” you whispered with a soft smile as you glanced up at his dreamy brown eyes that peered back at yours. His large hands gently grip onto your hips and push you against your car. His lips passionately met yours as his hands grip firmly on your bottom. He reaches up to caress your cheek with his thumb as he continues the passionate kiss. Your hands wander up to his brown curl as you follow Joel’s lead in the kiss with a soft moan. He pulls away from the kiss with a cocky smirk as he meets your eyes. “One hell of a goodbye from you, old man.” 

Joel chuckles and pulls his body off yours as he opens the car door for you. “Just leaving you with something to think about later,” he winks at you. He helps you enter the car, bending down to peck your lips again. “Drive safe, darling. I love you. Please let me know when you made it to work.” 

“Yes, sir, I will. I love you, handsome,” you grinned back at him as he closed your door. You both gave each other a soft smile with more emotions behind it as he took some steps back to let you drive away. 

You slowly drove away as you waved back to the cowboy as you went down the long driveway. The memories of the past weekend flood through your head as you drive down the road. The sound of a horn stops you before you get emotional. It is Ellie and Tommy on their way up to the big house. They give you a big smile and wave as you drive past, with you returning the gesture. It made you want to turn around and help them do their jobs for the day, but you couldn’t, sadly. The drive to the city was always more challenging on Mondays, sometimes so bad you would make yourself leave on Sunday so you could go to work. 

You listen to your favorite playlist the whole drive as you dream of your future with Joel and watch the country roads turn into busy intersections. The dream slowly slips from your mind as you remember all the tasks you ignored for the past two days and start strategizing your day as you are a few miles out. 

Your day was average on Monday. You caught up on emails, gossip, meetings, and working on some documents for another company to send by Wednesday. As you headed home from work, one of your friends, Anne, invited you to hang out downtown with your group of mutual friends for some weekday fun. You quickly agree as you want to get your mind off missing your cowboy in the right way. Also, text Joel to let him know your plans for the evening as you catch up on each other’s busy day. 

Hope your day was more exciting than mine! Btw, Anne and the girls invited me to go downtown tonight. It probably won’t stay long. Too tired from last night ;)

You send him the message as you start your ten-minute drive home to your apartment. You were more tired than usual. 

We had a cow get out of the fence. It wasn’t exciting for Ellie, but it was for Tommy and me. That sounds good, darling. Be careful; keep me updated so I know you’re okay. This old man knows all the right tricks for his lady. 

He sends it back, which makes you chuckle. You think of Ellie trying to get the cow back inside the fence while Joel and Tommy “supervise.” You walk inside your quiet apartment and set all your bags down. 

The girls wanted to meet at 7 PM at one of the bars downtown to hang out for a few weeks. They usually did this every once in a while on Mondays to hear about your sexy weekend vacations. You don’t tell them all the details, but they know they are wild and freaky. All the girls want themselves a cowboy now, and you couldn’t blame them. 

You quickly changed out of your work clothes into something comfortable but semi-flashy. You weren’t going all out because you planned only to have a few drinks, come home, and go to bed. 

It was only 6 p.m. after you had gotten ready to go. You sighed as you lay on your couch watching TV and scrolling on social media. As you looked at your phone, the notification for Joel’s text came through. 

The text read: 

Ordered you some snacks for after the bar. Should be there in about 5 minutes. I love you, darling ❤️. 

 It causes you to grin slightly as you lean up and respond with a sweet message of thanks and love. 

After falling back into the pit of socials, your doorbell rings, causing you to jump slightly. Wishing they had just left it at the door, but sighed as you heard another knock. You walk over to your door and look through the peephole. Seeing a familiar face, you quickly unlock the three locks Joel had installed for you. 

“Joel!” You gasp as you swing the door open. “What in the hell are you doing here?” It takes all of you not to start crying as he steps through your doorframe. 

“I forgot I had to turn in my tax stuff to the tax office in the next city over, so I thought I’d come to see you, darling. Make a trip out of it by stopping here tonight and seeing Sarah for early morning breakfast. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day,” he says as he pulls you into a sweet embrace. “I did come bearing hangover treats.”

“You’re an angel,” you praise him and lean up to give him a sweet kiss. “I can’t believe you’re here! I’m going to call the girls and cancel.” 

“No, no! Don’t do that, darling,” he says as he waves his hands in disagreement. He smiles at you and responds, “You go have fun with the girls, baby. I did not come here to ruin plans, just to surprise you. I’ll be here waiting for you.” 

“But,” you pouted at him as he moved a piece of hair from your face. I want to spend time with you, too! You could come and be our designated driver!” You joked with him and gave him a devilish smile. 

“I don’t want to ruin your time with your gi-” 

You cut him off with a shake of your head. “You’re not ruining anything! We were probably going to gossip about our weekend anyway. Might as well bring you to ‘wow’ them some more. I want you there. We could do a little dancing too.” 

He shakes his head and runs a hand over his forehead in a stressed way. “If you want me there and I’m not affecting your girl time, I’ll go.” He agrees as he grins down at you. 

The bar was packed for Monday night, but was a college town. It was the city where Sarah went to university. The two of you have met many times for lunch or shopping to help your bond since she was away at college. You would meet her most of the time at one of the coffee shops closer to campus almost once a week for a catch-up. It felt good to be there for Sarah. You were closer in age than the two of you would have thought, but still a reasonable distance. It made the bond easier in that way. 

Joel follows you as you enter the bar, looking around to see what the vibe is for the night. There was a good mix of college students and middle-aged adults inside. He doesn’t follow too closely as he checks out his surroundings, and most everyone does a double take on him with his cowboy hat and boots. 

“Oh my goodness! Hello!” your friend Anne greeted you as you found her standing at the bar with two more of your friends. “Oh my! Look what the cat dragged in!” 

You giggle as you see all the ladies look over your shoulder to Joel, who has now wrapped an arm around your waist. “Hello, ladies! Yes, look who surprised me as I was walking out the door. He tried to stay at my apartment, but I insisted he join us. I hope that’s okay!” 

They all giggled as they checked him out. Cowboys were ordinary in the city, but ones that looked like Joel Miller were rare. The night went smoothly as you chit-chatted and caught up with your girls. Joel stayed close quietly, only getting up to get you all refills like a gentleman. “I’ll be back, darling,” he says, kissing your head as he heads back to the bar with another round of drink orders. 

“That accent could make me release in about three seconds. Tell us your secrets, girl,” your friend, Julia, jokes with you as she sips on your drink. “I bet he knows a thing or two about how to use a rope or whip.” 

“Alright, alright. You are going to make her go all shy on us! You already know he knows what he is doing. Don’t you guys remember that big hickey she tried to hide at the beach last summer?” Anne says she wants to get the other girls off the subject of her love life. They all lose interest and start talking about some new show on Netflix. 

Your focus in the conversation faded as Anne poked you to get your attention. She moved her eyes to the situation she was referring to so it wouldn’t draw too much attention. Joel was at the bar, with two girls cornering him as he ordered drinks. They stood there twirling their hair and throwing their breast towards him. He looked so annoyed at them that you almost walked over there, not in jealousy, but to protect him from them. Joel tried to pass them with the tray of drinks. They kept pressuring him, though.

Anne looked at you with an extensive shocked look, “what are you going to do?” She asked worriedly. You grinned at her concern as she looked back at you with big, worried eyes. You were going to do nothing. You knew Joel was far from interested in any of the women in this bar. It took you a long time to realize this, but you know it now.

“Nothing. There’s nothing to worry about from him. Maybe them, but not Joel,” you softly responded to your friend as you made eye contact with Joel. He rolled his eyes at the girls and pushed his way through them successfully without a word. 

“How do you know? Most men would not do something like that.” Anne responds as she watches Joel return with the round of drinks. 

“I just know,” you replied as you greeted the cowboy with a peck on the lips as you handed out the drinks to the girls. This situation made you think of why you knew you were all Joel wanted and needed. 

It was Joel’s 37 birthday, the first birthday you had spent together. Tommy decided to plan a trip to a little country bar twenty minutes from the ranch. Ellie and Sarah were seniors in high school only, so they got to stay home for this Saturday night. It was just a double date with Tommy and Mariah. 

The drinks were going down a little too fast. Mariah and Tommy showed you how to line dance, and Joel happily observed from the bar. You were making a fool of yourself at first, but the alcohol confidence came strong over you. The couple and you were having a good time as you danced together. Every once in a while, finding those brown eyes in the sea of people in this little bar. 

You had too many drinks and swung around too many times as you left the line to watch the others. You take a few sips of your drinks as your eyes wander to the bar. A girl stood beside Joel, almost whispering in his ear with a big flirty giggle. You see Joel point to you and annoyingly reply to her as his eyes never leave yours. You lose eye contact as the girl cockily turns around and grins at you. Your feet are moving slowly before you know it. “I’ll take care of this, honey,” the girl says to Joel as she turns to face you, walking over to you as she bites her lip. 

Before you know it, she was almost in your face with a loud laugh. “The cowboy said he was coming home with me tonight, gonna put his co-.” She was cut off as Joel caught your raised fist and pulled you away from her. 

“What the fuck, Joel! Let me go!” You fought back as you tried to lunge at her, the alcohol making everything fuzzy as Tommy stopped the other girl from fighting you. Joel calmed you down as he pulled you towards the bar, getting you a glass of water. “Did you say those things to her? You want to take her home?” 

“You know good and well that I didn’t, darling. Just some trashy girl who wants some attention. Ignore her.” He says to rub your back as you drink some water to calm down a little. He walks you outside towards his old truck as he helps you walk. “I hope you know you are the most intelligent, thoughtful, and beautiful woman I have ever seen. I will worship the ground you walk on until I can’t. You are all that I need and want. It’s you, only you, darling.” He says as he cups your cheeks to ground you. His words cause the drunken waterworks to start as you kiss him sweetly. By the time the two of you had gotten home, you were almost sober and hornier than ever after Joel’s passionate confession. The two of you were tangled in his sheets the rest of his birthday weekend. 

This incident and many other passionate times have shown that you are the only one for Joel. Knowing Joel's loyalty and protection over you and the ones he loves made you more confident in our relationship. You were one of a few people who knew the real sassy cowboy, Joel Miller.  

The two of you left the bar with everyone else as you helped everyone get their Uber and said goodbye. Joel drove you back to your apartment as he had only one beer the whole night. He enables you to stumble into the bathroom to do your nightly routine and shower. “I love you so much,” you mumbles against him as he helps you into one of your pajamas. 

“I love you more, darling,” he says as he kisses your head and helps you get into bed with a glass of water, headache medicine, and snacks. The two of you end the night snuggling and watching trash television while you drunkenly talk to him until you fall asleep. 

Joel held you all night as you enjoyed this special night together. He kissed your head before falling asleep, hoping this would be a regular night thing one day. 

much love 🫶

#cowboy!joel x reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal imagine

[niallsgoldhoop]

small talk

niall horan one shot seven thousand words cw - sexual content, harsh language, spitting, spanking, name calling

The lighting inside of this place is dim, but not dim enough that I can’t still make out the slight tan line from where my wedding ring used to sit. 

Calloused fingers with tan skin, the thin sliver on my ring finger where my ring used to sit taunts me of what I miss more than anything in this world. 

I dropped the kids off a few hours ago and my heart hurts knowing that I’m going to be without their sweet laughs and giggles for the next three days, making my weekend longer than it should have ever been in the first place. 

Amber liquid sits in the glass tumbler in front of me, the same drink that she used to order, one that still tastes like her if I close my eyes and think about it hard enough. I try not to let my thoughts wander, knowing that she’s the last person I want to even start to think of.

With the sleeves of my cream colored shirt rolled up, I trace the pattern of the stitched design with my fingertips. I remember how dumb that my comments were when Rigby bought me this shirt, how I went on and on about how something could cost this much, making a complete ass out of myself in the moment. 

Now I wear it when I want to remember her the most. 

As I think about her, I curse myself and down the rest of my glass before holding my fingers in the air, signaling that I need another round to take my mind off of everything it doesn’t need to be on. 

She wasn’t here. 

Rigby wasn’t here. 

I sigh as the waitress drops off another drink to my seat at the bar, leaving me with a wink that makes my stomach curl. Bringing the old fashioned up to my lips, I let my eyes scan across the bar and study the people that mill about inside. 

You’ve got women out with their friends, men dressed up in suits looking for a release at the end of the work day, guys out just to watch the game, and then there’s me… 

A guy looking to forget the brunette with green eyes that stole his heart inside of a pub almost a decade ago.

Rigby and I.

Fuck if were the match of a lifetime. 

Shaking my head, I try to clear my head of the way she always looked in the mornings — her least favorite time of day. 

Even after Rory and Finn were born, Rigby hated mornings and even our children took after her. So there I was, stuck with three cranky children every morning. 

Rory and Finn were cranky until they got chocolate chips on their waffles while Rigby was cranky up until the first ‘I Love You’ came from my lips, nothing a kiss in our pantry couldn’t solve. 

Unable to control my thoughts I lift the glass to my lips and tilt it towards the ceiling, letting the rest of it glide down my throat and wash down the memories of yesterday's past. 

When I place the glass back on the bartop, I hear the bell to the entrance open and my eyes can’t help but look at who the newest occupant is. 

My eyes zero in on a pair of emerald green heels, straps wrapped around delicate ankles that tie into a perfect bow. Following the flawless skin of the longest legs I’d ever laid eyes on, my eyes take in every detail about the black dress that ends just at the knee but with a slit that rides all the way up to the upper part of their thigh. 

If their legs weren’t catching my attention for the first time tonight, the perfect tease of cleavage hidden behind the sinfully low neckline would do the trick. 

Shifting on the barstool, my cock twitches in my pants when the blonde turns around and shows off her perfect ass. 

My god. 

In a last ditch effort to make sure I didn’t look like a fucking psychopath, I pull out my phone. 

A smile spreads across my face to see both of my little hellions on the screen. Rory was standing in front of me with her little hot pink soccer jersey and holding her new first place trophy while Finn was wearing his own little green soccer jersey, crying and reaching for his sister's trophy because he wasn’t interested in the one he already had in his own hand. 

Rory’s pigtails were crooked because even after five years I still couldn’t get them straight, not that she ever let me forget saying ‘mommy could do them right’.

I know, kid. 

I know she could. 

Closing my eyes, I try not to think about her. 

Again. 

“Is this seat taken?” A feminine voice makes me snap open my eyes, looking to my left to see the vivacious blonde standing next to me with her gaze on the open barstool next to me. “If not, that's okay.”

If I thought she looked incredible from across the room, I surely wasn’t prepared for how she would look standing right next to me. 

“No, no. Go ahead.” 

The smell of her perfume lingers as she sits in the chair, crossing one leg over the other and exposing even more of her thigh that makes me feel like I can’t focus on anything else. 

Bad Niall. 

“God, this place is busy.” Her voice is smooth and rich, much like the drink I wish I hadn’t already had. “Can I get a margarita on the rocks please?”

I watch as she captivates the bartender, his eyes veering very, very far from her face as she orders and for once — I can’t blame him because my eyes are already there too. 

Quickly regaining any sense of decency left in my body, I subconsciously rub my left ring finger, still feeling as empty as I always do without it. 

“Long day?” 

Turning to face the blonde woman, a half smile stretches  across my face as I run my hand through my hair, thinking back to this morning. 

One with two grumpy children, neither of which could be consoled by a handful of chocolate chips. 

Rory wanted to wear her Rapunzel dress to school, which was impossible considering they were going on a field trip to a farm. Even after I kneeled in front of her and explained it, she still threw herself on the tile floor and cried. 

I swear she cried harder than I did when she walked away from me and into the door of her kindergarten class on the first day of school. 

Then we have Finn. 

While Rory was crying over her inability to be able to annihilate her dress from Disney World that my parents bought her in Paris when we visited, Finn was crying over how many green fruit loops were in his cereal bowl. 

Apparently today he all of a sudden hates the color green. Even after I picked all the green ones out, he still wouldn’t stop crying, claiming the whole bowl was contaminated.

By the time I got both of my children loaded in the car — Rory in her Rapunzel dress and Finn with a stomach full of Lucky Charms — I was an hour late to The Bunk Off. 

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Her eyes linger on mine while I speak, making me almost forget that my children were absolute heathens. “Long day for you too?”

She blows out a breath, followed by a light laugh as she breaks her gaze from me to thank the bartender for the drink he put down in front of her. “Oh, always. You try working in an office of men who constantly act like the world owes them something and tell me you don't leave working needing some kind of release.”

No, don’t even think about it. 

Bad, bad Niall. 

While I told myself I would just have a couple drinks and head back home to an empty house, I find myself ordering another drink and shifting in my seat so my body leans into the woman just the slightest bit. 

Curious, I raise my brow in her direction. “What do you do?” 

“Divorce lawyer.” I don’t miss the way her lips turn up into a smile at her own answer. “I spend my entire day with men who want to act like children which means I pay an astronomical amount of money to drink at a hotel bar. But it works out in my favor because I always take advantage of the spa the next day.”

Now that she’s closer to me, I can smell her perfume. It’s nothing too heavy, but a light fruity scent that could draw anyone in. 

“I could see how that would guarantee the need for drinks on a Friday night. You have my utmost praise for dealing with man-children all day.” A soft laugh falls from my lips and mixes with her own as she rolls her eyes, making my mind think about whether she rolls her eyes in other situations as well. “Cheers to men who don’t act like children.”

My glass hovers in the air as she eyes it intensely, so much so that I’m about to set my glass back on the bartop before she clinks them together, taking a long drink out of hers through the skinny straw that’s been provided. 

“Reese.” Thrusting her hand out in front of me, I study it with a careful eye. 

Taking her hand gently in my own, I make note of the softness of her skin — a feeling that I haven't felt in what feels like forever. “Niall.”

Devoid of an engagement ring or a wedding ring, I let out a quick breath. 

Definitely don’t want to go down that road again. 

Imagine being so close to your own climax when the woman underneath you tells you that she’s married.

“So, Niall.. What brings you here alone? Surely you’ve got to be married or at least dating someone?” Looking at me over her glass, I can practically see the gears turning in this woman’s head. “If not, then I'm sorry for assuming.”

“No, no.” Liquor coats my tongue as I search for the right answer. “No girlfriend and uh, no wife.”

The feeling of the words coming off of my tongue makes me feel slightly nauseated, like I’d rather chop my own tongue off than have to say them again. 

Reese doesn’t respond, she just nods before averting her gaze away from me. 

At this angle, I can make out the gentle slope of her nose as well as her high cheekbones. Pair that with the elegant way her neck seems to curve down into her shoulders and you’ve got an incredible sight for sore eyes. 

“So tell me, what do you do? You know what I do, so what does the quietest man in this bar do?”

Running my hand through my hair, I watch her eyes move to my bicep as her tongue runs along her bottom lip. I haven’t forgotten about the way my pants are fitting tighter as she shifts in her seat, the slightest change in the way she’s crossing her legs in her chair and it stirs something deep inside me. 

“Well, I own a pub.” 

Cocking her head to the side, I can’t help but laugh. “If you own your own place then why are you here — drinking?” 

Shifting in her seat, I try not to let it show the moment her foot makes contact with my calf. 

“I’ll let you in on a secret..” Taking a deep breath and blocking any outside thoughts from

my brain, I lean over and let my lips brush against her ear. “I don’t like to mix business with pleasure, you know? It can make for a very, very messy cleanup.” 

I know I’m not imagining it when I hear the way her breath catches in her chest or the way I see her fingers flex on the glass of her drink, clearly I’m not the only one aroused in this conversation. 

“How messy exactly?” With her glass to her lips I watch as she swallows down the last of her drink, willing myself not to come undone when her tongue glides alone her bottom lip to make sure she tastes every last drop of the liquor. “Actually, just say nothing. I think I can picture it.”

What is happening right now?

“Excuse me, can I get my check?” My breath catches in my throat as she places her hand on my thigh while she leans forward to signal the bartender. “You can add his to my tab.”

“No, no— you don’t have to do that! Here.” Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my wallet and grab my card and all but throw it at the bartender who could care less. “I’m not about to let you do that.”

Besides, I haven’t paid for another woman’s drinks in years. 

I guess now is as good a time as ever to start.

While the man runs my card, I turn to find her already looking at me with a look that I can’t run and hide from, not with her stare on me. 

In my entire existence, I think the only other time that I’ve felt time drag on as long as it is waiting for this man to bring me back my card resulted in the birth of my two children. 

But as I sit here, time drags on so slowly I think it’s been at least a year when the man hands me the receipt and pen. 

Signing my name down at the bottom, I stand from my stool at the same time my new companion abandons hers. Looking at me from over her shoulder, I can’t stop the way my eyes trail down her body — thinking what I’m going to do when I’m alone with her. 

We walk in silence to the elevator but the energy between us is buzzing, like a live power line that’s been knocked down by a powerful storm. 

Stepping in behind her, I lick my lips as she peers up at me with a familiar mischievous glint to her emerald eyes. Turning and pressing her ass into me, my hands immediately grip her waist and pull her into me as my lips fall to her neck. 

“Where to, Niall?”

A low laugh falls from my lips as I let the lust that’s been fueling my body for the last hour and half take over as I bite down on her earlobe. 

“Straight up to your room.”

Bringing my attention to her neck, I nip and suck at her smooth skin and smile into my actions when I hear a whimper fall from her lips as her hands clutch mine along her waist. “Fuck, touch me. Please. 

“You want me to touch you in this elevator, baby?” My words are hot on her skin yet goosebumps race across the surface as one of my hands slide from her waist to the apex of her thighs and slips under her dress. “What floor are you on?”

She doesn't answer me as she tips her head back onto my shoulder, the blonde hair smelling faintly of pear shampoo. “I’m on the twenty third floor.” 

“Think I can get you off that fast? Hmm?” Smirking against her skin, my finger runs along the drenched material that covers her center. “I need you to answer me or I’m not going to touch you at all.”

“Yes, but anybody can get on this elevator though!” I can sense the panic in her voice as I slip the material to the side and run my finger through her. 

I moan out at how wet she is for me. “Guess I better be quick then.”

Without waiting for a response, I thrust my middle finger into her at the same time my other hand finds her pebbled nipple through her dress and brings it between my thumb and pointer finger which makes her throw her head back with a loud moan. 

“Gonna take my fingers here in this elevator? Didn’t know you were so easy.” Adding another finger to her pleasure, I make sure to put extra pressure on her clit as I work the area quicker while continuing my assault on her neck. 

Her hand grips my wrist as we both stare at the numbers climbing on the elevator wall. “Me either, fuck. Niall!”

“Come on, do my fingers feel that good? Already feel your tight cunt clenching around them. All you have to do is let go, relax. If you want it, you can have it.” Husky and low, my own voice is mixed with a moan when she reaches behind her and grips me through my pants. “You wanna touch my cock, is that it?”

“Yes.” 

Her breathless moans finally reach their peak when we pass the nineteenth floor as she comes all over my fingers, silently moaning out into the air of this elevator before letting her body relax back into mine to catch her breath. 

While I may be having sex with a women in a hotel, I’ve not forgotten my manners as I kiss the side of her neck and run my hand up and down her waist before the elevator door opens and we walk out onto her floor. 

“I’m in, um, fuck.. Room 2334.”

Silently we make our way around the corner and I don’t dare take my eyes off her ass as it sways from side to side in her black dress, the way her long legs look make me imagine them wrapped around my waist which is exactly where I intend to have them in the next five minutes. 

The card beeps once it’s been waved in front of the automatic lock, swinging open to reveal a large room with floor to ceiling windows and a massive king sized bed in the middle. 

In my moment of weakness for the skyline of Boston, two delicate hands push against my chest and make my back slam against the door. “Cat got your tongue?”

Lips meet mine at an urgent speed, immediately parting my own and letting me taste the liquor that still lies on her tongue. I moan into the kiss when I feel those same hands leave my chest behind to fall to my waistline, undoing my pants and pulling them down just far enough that my aching cock springs up against my stomach. 

“Look at you. You were so quick to comment how wet I was as you fucked me with your fingers on the elevator, but look at you..” My mouth hangs open as she strokes me with determination, her thumb coming out to swipe at the precome leaking from my swollen tip. “You’re so hard for me and I’ve barely touched you, Ni.”

I can feel her leave open mouthed kisses along my neck as she stops to bite along the skin every so often, making me thrust up into her hand at a slow pace. 

Not enough that I’m going to come undone, but enough that the friction is driving me crazy. 

“Shit, I didn’t know the woman I was meeting tonight was such a tease.” There’s a hint of sarcasm to my voice, but mostly it’s just driven by lust as I look into her eyes just seconds before she lowers herself to her knees in front of me. 

“No small talk, it just gets in the way.”

Those are her final words before she takes me into her heavenly warm and wet mouth, her tongue flattening underneath my heavy cock as she sucks and bobs her head at a dangerous pace. 

The back of my head hits the door as pleasure shoots through every single nerve fiber in my body, from the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes I can feel myself getting burned by the fire. 

“Baby, fuck.” Tangling my fingers into the blonde hair, I choke on my own moan when she pulls off of me only to flick her tongue on the most sensitive part of me. “If you don’t stop I'm going to come, fuck. Rigby.” 

The name falls from my lips at the same time that my eyes snap open and the motion between my legs stops two seconds before the woman between my legs laughs. 

“Seriously Niall? Again?” Standing up from her place on the floor, Rigby looks at me with her bright green eyes full of humor. “Are you going to forget whatever name I pick every time we do this?”

I reach forward with both hands and pull her to me as my lips find hers in a messy and passionate kiss, making sure that the very convincing blonde wig she’s managed to put on comes off, letting her brunette hair fall free around us. 

“To be fair, I doubt you want to hear me moan out another woman’s name while your pussy milks me for everything that I have. Am I wrong?” Reaching my hand to her side, I pull on the tiny zipper and groan as the fabric falls to the floor. “Also, I can only act for so long. You own me, clover. Don’t like acting like I’m not married to the finest woman I’ve ever fucking seen.”

Standing in front of me now is the same woman I fell in love with all those years ago. 

Only now, she’s got a couple more tattoos and her body is even curvier. 

I didn’t think it was possible to be more turned on by Rigby, but watching her carry and give birth to our children? 

Watching her tell me it wasn’t the end of the world that Rory got a Rapunzel dress muddy — saying we owned a washing machine for a reason?

Watching her tell Finn that when the color green hurts her feelings she eats Lucky Charms — the cereal daddy always brings her to cheer her up?

Yeah. 

I’m never not turned on by my wife. 

“Okay, you’ve proved your point.” Rigby sounds breathless as I lean down to kiss her again, taking my kiss from her lips and down her neck and making sure to suck a dark bruise just below where the collar of her work blouses sit. “I love you, fuck.”

Gently nipping at her sensitive nipple, my hands wrap around her waist to flip her backwards and press her ass against my throbbing cock as I walk us forward as I leave kisses against her temple. 

The view of Boston spreads out in front of us as we stop in front of the window. “I love you too, clover. Now let me show you.”

Wrapping an arm around her collarbone, her back curves into my chest as I push her forward and her body presses into the cool window eliciting a gasp from the temperature change against her hot skin. 

Finding her swollen clit like it’s my home, my fingers work like they’ve never had another job in their life while I bring her nipple between my pointer finger and my thumb again while I pinch hard enough that she moans and I feel her body shiver in my arms. 

Over the years, Rigby and I have explored our sex lives more than we ever thought possible. 

Both of us are kinky as hell, which works in both of our favor.  

Tonight wasn’t the first time we met in a bar and acted like we didn’t know each other, and it sure as hell won’t be the last time either. 

The same goes for being able to read each other’s bodies like a well worn book. I know that as soon as I apply almost enough pressure for it to be painful to her nipple and thrust two fingers into her, that she’ll come on the spot. 

So that’s what I do. 

“Good girl, that’s my baby.” Kissing the back of her neck, I hug her body into mine as her legs tremble from trying to hold herself up. “You look so beautiful when you come for me, so fucking beautiful. You know that, right?”

Turning in my arms, I kiss her and walk backwards to the bed and turn us at the last second and lay her down on the million thread count sheets. “Mmhmm, you tell me all the time, charms.”

“Good, don’t you forget it either.” Shedding the rest of my clothes, my eyes meet hers. 

I kiss her gently and rest my palms on the mattress to hold my body above hers while I slide down, taking her nipple in my mouth and teasing her until she squirms underneath me. “Want to taste you again, Niall. Please.”

Hearing the most powerful woman on the planet beg for me? 

Am I supposed to say no to that?

“Here.” Laying down on the bed, she raises one eyebrow in my direction. “You sit on my face and let me fuck you with my tongue while you fuck me with your mouth, yeah?”

As eager as ever, Rigby throws her legs over my torso and faces the foot of the bed while she shuffles backwards until her perfect wet, pink pussy rests right above my mouth. 

Running my hands up her thighs, I take a greedy handful of her ass in each palm before pulling her down to sit on my face while moaning out at the feeling of her taking my cock all the way into the back of her throat. 

She tastes like the only thing I want for the rest of my life as I flatten my tongue and run it through her, using the tip of the strong muscle to flick against her clit which makes her whimper against my cock and the vibrations from that have me leaking into her mouth at a rapid rate. 

While I feast on her, she uses her hand to wrap around me and twist while she brings her mouth up and down on me in a perfect combination that she knows will have me coming down her throat if she keeps it up. 

Not to be outdone, I bring one hand off her ass and bring it down hard enough to make her jerk on top of me at the same time I bring her clit into my

mouth, sucking harshly and nibbling the spot with my teeth and with one final spank, she comes again for me at the same time she brings me to my own demise, swallowing everything as she tries to ride out her own orgasm. 

“Rigby, fuck.” Out of breath, she rolls next to me on the bed before kissing me, letting her tongue meet mine so we can taste each other. “My perfect wife.”

I cradle her chin in my hand as I look at her while my other hand reaches to tuck a strand of her sweaty hair behind her ear. 

All these years she’s been there for me. 

When Harry and I opened another pub, she was there for me. Crunching the numbers and offering her advice all along the way. 

When I had to quit playing recreational soccer because I broke my leg? She was there. Taking me to therapy and forcing me to do the exercises even when I didn't want to, making me better. 

When I cried the day my little girl walked into kindergarten like she didn’t need her daddy anymore? She was there to remind me that I got to scare away every boy who came into her life for the rest of eternity. 

As she smiles at me right now, it’s full of bliss and it’s lazy. 

She’s been just as busy as I have been over the years. 

Carrying both of our children through high risk pregnancies, not to mention coming out a survivor through two miscarriages that broke both of us to the core. 

Rigby was now an owner of Byrne & Klein, owned by her and June. They bought out the men, making them one of the top women owned and ran accounting firms on the East Coast. 

My brilliant, brilliant lover. 

Not to mention, we both coached the kids soccer team and although I was calm and collected.. Rigby found her way back out into the parking lot more often than not for using one too many colorful words one too many times. 

“My perfect, Ni.” Finding my lips with hers, she starts a lazy, passionate kiss. 

It doesn’t take long for it to become needy, it never does. 

Throwing one leg over me, I cup Rigby’s perfect tits in my hand with a rough squeeze when she rocks her center against me. “You still hard for me, baby?”

“I’m always hard for you, what do you mean?” I laugh into her kiss for only a second before I tip my head back at the feeling of her clit rubbing against the sensitive ridge of my cock. “You gonna fuck me, clover mama?”

“Always.” I watch in awe as she positions me at her entrance and sinks down on me in one motion, not being able to decide if I want my eyes on her face, tits, or where we are connected. “Ah, fuck. You fill me up so fucking good, always full when you are inside me. Fucking me. Loving me.”

Placing my hands on her waist I match her rhythm as I fuck into her, my rough movements making her tits bounce with so much force I’ve decided I’m never looking away from them as I lean up to nip her with my teeth a couple of times. 

“I need more, Niall. I need it.” 

Her wish is my command as I pull her down flush with my chest and slam my hips up into her as she cries out into my chest at the pressure, giving her exactly what she needs. 

“Are you going to come again for me? Let yourself go all over my cock?” My own voice is strained as I try to hold myself together, knowing that she’s about to be so pissed at me. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

Hair sticks to her forehead and her body is covered in a sheen of sweat as I feel her start to contract around me, squeezing me so good that I have no choice but to pull out before I let go before I’m ready. 

“Are you fucking joking me?” Red cheeks match the animosity in her gaze as I roll us over, bending down to suck her clit in my mouth for a few seconds which has her screaming out before I pull back and sit on my heels, pumping my cock slowly in my hand as I look down at her gorgeous body. “Fuck you, asshole. I was so close.”

“No, I’m not joking.” Slapping the side of her thigh, I gesture towards the bed with my chin. “Get on your hands and knees.”

“No.” If there’s one thing about Rigby, it’s that she’s going to be a brat. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Reaching up, I grip her jaw harshly but soft enough that I know I won't hurt her. “I said get on your hands and knees for me, slut.”

A moan comes from deep in her throat and I smirk as the fire I love so much blazes in her eyes. “Or what? You gonna punish me, daddy?”

Strengthening my grip enough to keep her mouth open, I lean over her and spit directly onto her tongue, watching as her eyes roll back into her head before she swallows. 

“Is that what you want? For me to punish you? For me to fuck you so hard you can’t see straight, hmm?” I know my words have the desired effect when Rigbys breath hitches in her chest and she nods a moment before breathing out a yes. 

Tilting my head down, I let a low chuckle fall from my lips before I lean back over her and instead of gripping her jaw — I drop my hand to her neck, putting pressure in the places she needs it to get a proper, safe head rush. 

“I said, get on your hands and knees..” Biting her bottom lip, I pull it back roughly and when I see a small drop of crimson, I flick my tongue across the spot to collect it. “Right the fuck now.”

Finally rolling onto her stomach, I pull her hips up as my palm runs down the middle of her back to push her face down into the mattress before taking her hands, clasping them together and holding them behind her back. 

With my other hand I smooth it over the porcelain skin of her ass before cracking my palm against it, making her cry out. “What’s our rule, hmm?” 

“I, it’s— Ah!”

Bringing my palm down in the same place, I watch as the skin turns slightly pink from the impact. 

“Rigby, I asked you a question.” Trading which of my hands hold hers, I repeat my actions on her other ass cheek, watching her jolt and moan beneath me. “I expect you to answer me.”

“If I want to act like a brat..” A moan falls from her lips as I slide two fingers inside of her, moaning myself at how fucking wet she is. “Then I get treated like a brat.”

“Correct.” I pull my fingers back only to fuck into her with three and the sounds filling up the room have my cock painfully aching with how turned on I am, it’s insane. “Listen, I know you thought you were going to get to come again around my cock, but how about you beg for it instead.”

Pushing her hips back into my hand, I bring my palm down on her skin. “Please, I—“

“You what? If you want my cock, you beg for it while I fuck you with my fingers and until I think you’ve begged enough, yeah? Do not even think about coming until I say you can or we are going to start this all over again. Do you understand me?”

Nodding into the mattress, I let out a quick prayer that I can hang on as my fingers find the spot that drivers her wild. “Please, Niall. Fuck, fuck.. I need you.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that.” Picking up my pace, I ease another finger into her and listen as she moans out incoherent phrases at the feeling. 

“I'll do anything. I need your cock, need you to fill me up..” I watch as her eyes roll back into her head as her body jerks when I find a particularly delicious spot inside of her. “Your come needs to be inside me, baby. I want it so bad. There's not anything I want more than to milk your cock so good, fill me up until I’m spilling out for you..”

With that I pull my fingers out of her and line my throbbing cock up with her, thrusting in all the way and tilting my head up towards the ceiling as my moan is loud and deep, bouncing off the walls. “God, you fucking pull me in like you need me so bad, like this pussy is made for me and only me. Letting me fuck you so goddman hard.” 

“Niall.. I’m so close. Please, don’t stop.” I continue to thrust into her deep and hard, making contact with her g-spot and making her legs tremble as we both find ourselves on the edge of our release. 

“You feel so good.” 

“You know, I really liked the blonde.” My pace picks up as she clenches around me. “You looked so fucking good.”

“You think?” Barely audible from her pleasure, Rigby manages to get the words out. “Maybe I’ll dye it blonde.”

I choke on a moan as I near my end, getting so close. “It doesn’t matter if you dye your hair hot pink, I’m still going to bend you over and fuck you like the slut that you are, yeah clover baby?”

“Ni, give me another baby. Please, fill me up and give me another one.” Her moan is loud as my pace falters at the thought of seeing her pregnant again. “I want it so bad, let me have it.”

Rigby only lasts a couple more strokes as she comes undone, coming so hard that she nearly pushes me out as I finish deep inside of her, filling her with my release. 

Staying seated inside of her, I rub my hand up and down her back as she lays spent beneath me. “Did you mean it? Rigby, tell me you meant it.”

Pulling out I roll her over onto her back and can’t help but lean down and kiss her, letting our tongues meet for only a moment. “Yes, I want another baby. Please. Just one more time, give me more.”

“Baby, you’re so tired.” I cup her cheek as I look down at her. “We can talk and keep trying.”

She shakes her head as she looks up at me, determination in her tired eyes. “Please.”

As much as I feel like my orgasm emptied everything from my body, I know that as long as she says please, I’ll do whatever she wants. Looking down I can see where my come is dripping out of her perfect pussy, so I slowly slide back in, leaning over Rigby on my elbows and bringing my lips to hers. 

“I love you so much, pretty clover girl.” My hips meet hers in a slow, gentle pace as she tips her head backwards into the pillows. “I’ll give you as many babies as you want.”

Rigby brings her hands up to cup my face as I thrust into her, feeling her legs shake from her overstimulation. “I want as many babies as we can make, love having a family with you, the perfect dad, the perfect husband, the perfect lover.. Oh, fuck.”

I feel as she contracts and releases around me, pumping her through her euphoria as I take one of her nipples in my mouth and suck lightly before I feel myself come again only a few minutes later. 

Keeping myself inside of her, I roll us over gently, tucking her into my side as she collapses against me. “We can stay like this for a little while, but then we have to get up and get you cleaned up, okay?”

I can feel her nod into my chest as I run my fingers through her hair, giving her twenty minutes before I’m pulling out of her and carrying her to the bathroom. 

“Come on baby, let’s take a bath. Let me clean you up and then we can sleep all night.”

•

As good as it feels to spend the weekend holed up in a hotel, having uninterrupted sex with my wife… There’s not a greater feeling than seeing my kids running towards me and launching themselves into my arms. 

“Daddy, daddy! Look what I made!”

I pull back and look down at the paper Rory holds in front of her. “Let me guess… That’s Moana?”

Laughing as Rory looks at her mom with her mouth wide open in shock, she turns back to me with a look of disdain. “No, look, it's Rapunzel! Everyone knows Moana  has pretty brown hair like mommy— not yellow. Silly daddy!”

“I’ll show you silly!” Picking her up in her Rapunzel pajamas, I tickle her sides as she squeals and laughs, relaxing her body into mine. “Where’s my other cutie?”

Finn launches himself at Rigbys legs, making her laugh as she stumbles and falls over in the front yard. “Easy buddy!” Reaching for him and pulling him into her arms, she nuzzles him in a motherly embrace while she kisses his little face all over as he laughs and puts his chubby little hands on her cheeks. His dirty blonde hair is a mess but his striking green eyes are full of trouble.

“Pretty mama!” leaving a wet kiss on her cheek, I smile at Rigby as we look at the beautiful and healthy children in our arms. 

“How’s my baby girl? Did you have fun at Uncle Harry’s house?” Rory nods in my arms, launching into a story about how Harry dressed up at Ariel while she played in her  Rapunzel dress. 

Rigby holds Finn in her arms and pinches his little red cheeks before tickling his ribs. “And what about you, what did you and Uncle Harry do?”

“We ate peas!” 

Both Rigby and I burst out laughing as Harry joins us and Rigby rolls her eyes, looking at Harry. “I guess there was a reason we gave Finn your middle name. You are both pea lovers and that worries me.”

“Finn loves peas? Yuck!” Rory makes an exaggerated gagging noise as I hear the last member of our family finally making their way out of the house and down to my feet. 

“There’s my other girl! What have you done all weekend, Guinny?” 

What is it that they say about all dads and the dogs they didn’t want? 

Yeah. 

That’s me and our black and brown dachshund, Guinness. 

At least I got to name her. 

“Well other than the one time she threw up in the kitchen? She’s been fine.” I look at Harry as he rolls his eyes before looping his arm around Margo’s waist. “But the resident veterinarian here said she’s fine, someone just fed her too many snacks.”

I don’t even have to guess which child of mine is the snack smuggler, looking at Rory in my arms as she fiddles with her hands in front of her, making eye contact with the birthmark on the side of her left hand. 

“Rory James, what have we told you about feeding the doggie too many snacks?” I try to be stern, but she’s so fucking cute with her brown hair and light blue eyes it’s impossible. 

She sighs as her shoulders deflate. “That if I feed the doggie too many snacks then her tummy gets upset just like daddy’s does when he eats too much cheese.”

“Exactly.” Rigby smiles as she tries not to laugh just like me. “We gotta remember that, okay? Remember how grumpy daddy gets when he doesn’t feel good?”

“Hey!” Jumping in to defend myself, everyone starts laughing before poking fun in my direction. “Alright, alright. Let’s get out of Uncle Harry’s hair and go home, okay?”

“Kids go get your bags!” Letting go of Rory and Finn, I watch them disappear into my best friend's house as I wrap my arm around Rigby’s waist. 

Leaning in, my lips brush against her ear before I kiss her gently. 

“Come on, let’s take our babies home, clover baby.”

* more on wattpad @ niallsgoldhoop *

#niall #niall horan #niall james horan #cute niall #one d #niall 1d #niall imagine #niall the show #niall fanfic #one direction #niall smut #smut #oneshot

[kryptonitejelly]

Yeah I’m sorry (but not really) - it is Monday and I don’t want to fucking work, so ya’ll get Flyboy 😌 but in HC form, because I don’t have it in me to write something proper (and despite what I say I also do need to work aksdsjds) and I need something easy and happy because I’ve been feeling slightly alfjkdbksjs so we all get Flyboy!!!

Because now although I just did future Flyboy, I can’t stop thinking about college Flyboy (again!!)

Imagine following Jake + the football team on a weekend away. They actually have just one game to play on the Friday evening - and they have the rest of Saturday and Sunday free.

It is not too far off from where you guys are, but not too near either - different city, few hours drive.

You somehow find yourself loading into the bus with the rest of the team. It is just the team + coaches + you. There is just one single seat left - so of course it is yours. Jake asks you to come, and obviously everyone wants you there - the coaches don’t even bat an eye anymore, they are used to you because everyone knows where you find Jake, very often they find you.

Your bus leaves Friday morning (it happens to be an alternate week where you don’t have class on a Friday. Jake does, because although no one believes it you don’t share all your classes, but he gets a pass because of football) - so he stays over in your apartment that night telling you “so I can haul your ass out in the morning, no way are you missing that bus”.

He arrives at your place on Thursday night, freshly showered and dragging all his gear for the game + weekend. He basically just helps himself and hops into your bed once he gets there. When you look at him, Jake just goes “what, need to sleep early for the game tomorrow” - he sees you are all packed yourself, so he just pulls you into the bed, and flicks a show on, on your laptop and forces you to watch it with him.

“Didn’t you need to sleep early?”

“Winding down for the night is part of the routine,” he shushes you and shamelessly plops his head on your shoulder, the laptop balancing on both your thighs which are side by side. You give up and oblige him - because it really isn’t going to go any other way.

By the end of the show, the positions have flipped, your head is on Jake’s shoulder instead, and you have fallen asleep. It makes him chuckle - because you always do this, always fall asleep first. He manages to tuck you into bed, and keep your laptop before setting his alarm, flicking off the light and settling into bed with you.

He flips his head to watch you as you sleep, eyes closed, chest rising and falling and it makes Jake feel at peace.

He gets up as soon as his alarm raises the next morning, hand reaching out to pull his phone towards him to silence it. As usual, you’ve somehow managed to end up wrapped around his body, your head snuggled into the crook of his neck. It makes him not want to get up, because Jake thinks he could stay like this forever. He allows himself a few more moments with you snuggled against him, before he extracts himself and goes to wash up.

He wakes you after he has washed up, the same way he does every morning - sitting on the bed, hand on your upper arm, thumb rubbing gently against your skin until you stir.

“Gotta get up darlin,” he says, and you groan in protest, raising a hand to flap at him, before that same hand drops into his lap. your fingertips manage to graze his inner thigh, and Jake just sucks in a breathe of air.

“C’mon, I’ll make coffee,” he is rewarded by your squinting your eyes open with a grumble and he stands, hand slipping into yours and pulling you into an upright position.

You are both soon heading towards the pick up point, you carrying your coffee and a small handbag, because Jake is carrying your overnight bag - he insisted. You have Jake’s hoodie on your frame - not one you stole from before, his actual hoodie of the moment, and he is just in a tshirt, you sipping coffee from a travel tumbler. You are both walking in silence because Jake is just enjoying being in your company, and you aren’t a morning person (although your mornings are better with him)

The team greets you with a cheer, the boys waaaaaay too excited for the morning, and it is all fist bumps and slaps on the back between Jake and the rest. They might greet you with a cheer but by now everyone knows to leave you alone in the morning, so you kinda just hide behind Jake sipping your coffee. He is engaged in conversation with the rest, and somehow he manages to reach for you, and snake an arm around your shoulders so that he is holding you to his side, his thumb sliding absently along your arm on the fabric of his hoodie as he continues his conversation with the rest. No one bats an eye because it is so natural.

You all get to your destination in the afternoon, check in to your accommodation (yes - of course you and Jake share a room) before it is off to their campus for a light lunch + for warm up before the afternoon game.

You are seated on the sidelines with a book in hand as the team runs drills before the game. You look up from your page, and catch Jake’s eye just as he is about to run a drill and he winks at you. It makes you roll your eyes, and you see him laugh before he sprints off.

The team is huddled up, drying off and having a debrief before they have a quick change and rest up before the actual game when you hear a bunch of giggles behind you. You find yourself looking to the bleachers to find a bunch of girls from the rival school flocked together, you manage to make out what they are saying and to no surprise - they are fangirling over the team, and over Jake (“Seresin is soooo handsome” / “I heard he is single now” / “Look at those arms, I bet he has some killer abs as well”)

It makes you roll your eyes and scoff, before turning back to your book.

Jake is changed, dry, and stretching beside you, when you catch him eyeing you. He isn’t nervous for this game, the team isn’t - it is one they are sure they will win.

“What?”

“You need a game day outfit. You aren’t even wearing school colours. As it is we are already on enemy territory.”

“Please, you know you’ll win.”

Jake ignores you and rummages through his bag to produce a clean jersey - his own, with his name and number emblazoned behind.

“Put it on.”

“Why?”

“C’mon.”

“What if you don’t have enough?”

“I do.”

“But the bathrooms are so far away.”

Jake is tugging you to the corner wall of the bleachers. He steers you against the wall, “change here, before the crowd gets here, I’ll block you.”

“Jake,” you protest but he is already caging you in, his palms pressed flat on either side of the wall behind you, and he closes his eyes. College football Jake would have been b r o a d - so he manages to block you.

Jake feels the material of your own top brush against his nose as you hoist it over your head before very quickly pulling his jersey on.

“Done,” you mumble and he finds you standing in front of him in his jersey, attempting to roll the sleeves of the garment up and tucking the bottom into your jeans.

“It’s a good look,” he picks up the top you discarded on the floor and you both walk back to the sidelines. He falls a step behind you and enjoys the way the words “SERESIN” and his numbers are blazed across your back.

You are on your feet and shouting and yelling throughout the game. They win the game, easily - but it doesn’t stop Jake from running towards you once the timer goes off and picking you up and swinging you around in excitement.

“We WON,” he yells, and you can’t help but giggle, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders, “did you see me score that last one,” he crows and places you on your feet, his hands not leaving your waist. Jake is sweaty, but it doesn’t bother you and you push hair from his eyes.

“Sure did, you were fantastic as always Jakey,” the adrenaline is also pumping in your veins and your eyes are as bright as his.

The team decides to clean up in the university changing rooms and you are mulling around in a nearby waiting area when you hear the same girls again, “did you see that girl, the one in Seresin’s jersey?” / “he went to her straight after the game” / “i thought he was single” / “she isn’t even that pretty anyway” / “wonder what he sees in her”

It makes you >:(( and you are both enraged and also slightly hurt, when you feel it, hands on your hips, sliding around from the back.

“There you are gorgeous, I was beginning to worry you ran off without me,” Jake’s voice booms out, and he throws it across the floor. It makes the girls jump and turn to stare at you both in shock and horror. They clearly hadn’t realised you were there. Jake ignores them and continues to speak to you.

“I like seeing you in my shirt,” he winks, and you hear the girls whisper to each other in hurried tones, “think it makes you even more beautiful than you usually are.”

There is something about the way he says it - but you miss it as you turn to watch the girls scamper off. Something in his eyes, something you miss - but would have told you how much Jake meant it.

“Thanks” you say to him and he is about to reply when a barrage of noise finds its way out of the changing rooms. So he shuts his mouth again.

The room had two separate beds - but somehow, each night you end up watching a show in bed and the same thing happens. You’ll fall asleep in the same bed, and end up curled around Jake each morning 😌

Friday night is spent in celebration. Saturday wandering around town with the rest of the team, taking in the sights, just having some good old boisterous innocent fun, ending with a huge team dinner and karaoke - duh. Where you end up belting out some good old upbeat pop songs with the rest of the team - something Jake wouldn’t admit, but loves to see. You with your hair down, yelling and jumping around into a microphone with a group of guys that would, like him, do mostly anything to protect you.

He hears a few guys talking about you, strangers - most likely from the rival school. “She’s pretty, should I approach her?”

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Jake can’t help say as he sips from his drink without looking back at them.

“You her boyfriend or something?” The guy snorts and Jake does look back, eyes flashing dangerously and the hostility coupled with the flexing of Jake’s biceps that sre peeking out from his tshirt is enough to make the guy back off.

You are scheduled to leave on Sunday afternoon, and instead of joining the team for an all you can eat Sunday brunch, Jake says you both have plans and drags you off ok your own instead. He takes you to the cutest little cafe he has somehow managed to find, and you both have your own brunch, before walking around the town, just wandering into local shops, until it is time to go. You are both taking a slow stroll back to the accommodation where you are due to meet the rest and be picked up. You have a coffee cup in your hand, your arm slipped into the crook of Jake’s arm, holding his bicep.

😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌😌 IDIOTS THE BOTH OF THEM 😭😭😭😭

Linked ask here

#flyboy #flyboy universe #flyboy drabble #flyboy headcannons #flyboy ideas #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman imagine #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman seresin #hangman seresin imagine #hangman seresin x you #hangman seresin x reader #top gun maverick #top gun imagine #not cm

[thana-topsy]

Ohh enthir is one of your babygirls? Please tell us more! I'm oddly attached to that bastard

Uh oh, my secrets. My deep dark secrets.

So, I accidentally developed A Thing for Enthir during the process of writing "Liminal Bridges", in which he's just an overall prank-playing, smooth-talking, blackmailing bastard man.

But then I decided "Haha, y'know what would be fun? Writing some smut! I bet he's a horny guy." And the person I ship with him the most at the moment is Urag (because uptight grump/chaotic prankster, hello wonderful dynamic). So the spirit overtook me and I slammed out some smut in a fit of passion, only to reach the end of it and realize "WOW Enthir has serious issues and this is depressing as hell...." Smut ended on a total downer note and now I just want to write a slowburn between the two of them and get my little claws into that man's brain. With what time, you may ask? Exactly my problem.

Anyways, I'll include some Enthir snippets from Liminal Bridges below the cut, both the published stuff and some unpublished stuff:

------

As it turned out, Enthir was only half-helping decorate. He dumped the snowberries on a table on the opposite side of the hall, earning a sour look from Nirya as she began to incorporate them into the table setting. He beckoned for Talvas to follow him back out of the hall, sauntering unhurriedly down the left wing of the college. 

“Are you one of the scholars?” Talvas asked, falling into step beside him. 

“Not really.” 

“Oh.” The way he said it made Talvas think he wasn’t really a student, either. Now he was too afraid to ask. “So, what did you need help with?” 

“Gathering some ingredients.” He looked up at Talvas with a grin. “I want to pull a little prank on Urag. All in good fun, of course.” 

A pang of nervousness soured Talvas’ gut. He immediately regretted offering his help. “You won’t… hurt him, will you?”

“Of course not!” Enthir barked. “Urag is a good friend. He’s also…” He made a vague hand gesture. “A tight-ass.” He stopped abruptly in front of a narrow door, fiddling with a set of keys hooked to his belt. “I’m sure you’ve noticed.” 

“He seems more scary than anything,” Talvas admitted, feeling guilty for saying so. 

Enthir let out a gravelly laugh. “He’d like you to think he’s scary. Truth is, he’s got a real soft underbelly.” He pulled a long slender key from the ring, sliding it into the lock with a satisfied sight. “Alchemy supply closet, if you were wondering.” He turned the key and Talvas heard the tumblers click into place. 

-------

“Well, well, well… Young Master Fathryon,” came a familiar, gravelly voice. “Did you lose your way?”

Talvas’s blood turned to ice. 

Standing in the archway of the stairwell, wearing a thick coat and a shit-eating grin was none other than Enthir.

“I believe that’s… Miss Maryon’s room, isn’t it?” he said. 

“What are you doing here?” Talvas fired back, his voice quivering. “It’s a bit late, isn’t it?”

“Well, I live here,” Enthir replied, speaking slowly as if Talvas were simple. “Just up there.” He pointed up the stairs. “And as for the hour, I’m returning from an activity that I assume you were also partaking in.” He grinned. “Except I wasn’t with a student.”

“Please,” Talvas whispered. The panic was back, threatening to consume him from the inside out. “Please don’t tell anyone. It was a mistake.” 

“Hmm, that’s an awfully avoidable mistake.” Enthir shrugged. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone…” He turned, as if preparing to walk away, but then paused, looking over his shoulder with a casual lift of his brow. “If you agree to do something for me.” 

Talvas’s jaw flapped open and closed for a moment, his voice stolen by disbelief. “Are you… blackmailing me?”

“Heavens no!” Enthir barked, and Talvas flinched. The mer wasn’t exactly being quiet. “It’s just a little errand.” He smiled and his face looked rather like that of a toad in the harsh light of the magicka font. “But it’s late, or… early. And you don’t look so good. Meet me in town tomorrow at the Frozen Hearth Inn. Dinner time. We can talk there.” He offered a dramatic bow before fully turning to stroll up the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Master Fathryon.”   

-------

Talvas wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but as Enthir lit the wall sconces with a wave of his hand, the room he found himself in was not at all remarkable. It contained a few bookshelves crammed with mismatched books, journals, and loose leafs of paper bound haphazardly in twine. There were at least six trunks of varying sizes that he could count, all elaborately locked and warded. In the center of the room sat a sturdy wooden desk littered with scrolls and journals, a single chair on one side, two on the other.  

“Please, have a seat,” Enthir said, motioning to one of the two chairs. He rounded the desk and began to clear away some of the clutter. 

“What is this place?” Talvas asked as he lowered himself into the chair. 

“My office.”

“Why is it at the inn and not at the college?”

Enthir paused mid-tidy to give him a withering look. “I can’t tell if you’re playing dumb, or if you really are that stupid.” 

Talvas prickled, pinning Enthir with his most indignant scowl. 

“Oh, Mother Mara, you were serious.” Enthir let out a tremendous sigh, stepping over to one of the packed bookshelves to shove more contents onto its overcrowded shelves. “Even before our lovely new Arch-Mage came along, I’ve guarded my work from prying eyes. My colleagues and I have an understanding as to my role at the college. But still, one can never be too careful. And, as the expression goes, never shit where you eat.”

“I’m not familiar with that expression.”

“Of course you’re not.” Enthir returned to the desk and sat down, folding his hands pleasantly in front of him. “Please, eat. Before it gets cold.”

“Just tell me what you want from me and let’s get this over with.”

“Eat,” Enthir said again, and it somehow managed to sound like a threat.

---

Anyways, I'll probably post that smut eventually, but for now I'm just passing around a google doc between friends like it's a middle school notebook.

Thanks for indulging me!

#topsy's asks #topsy writes #enthir #skyrim fanfiction #talvas fathryon

[angelasscribbles]

Eidolon Chapter 6: Encounter

Series: Eidolon

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Drake x Ghost

Rating: MA, NSFW 🍋🍋🍋

Warnings: HORROR, LEOMONS

Word Count: 1,999

A/N: This chapter should have been titled "Should have listened to Liam"

My other stuff: Master List.

Housekeeping had vacuumed up the salt and removed the selenite.

He didn’t want any barriers between them.

Drake and Liv didn’t understand.

She would never hurt him. He knew it.

He didn’t know how he knew it, but he knew it. Deep in his bones, in his very soul, he knew.

Drake poured Liam a tumbler of bourbon and handed it to him, then reached for another glass.

Drake preferred scotch whiskey to bourbon, so it wasn’t suspicious that he didn’t pour himself a drink from the same decanter, he never did.

He followed Liam onto the balcony and took a seat, “I got the results today of the body in the wall.”

“Yeah?” Liam lifted the glass to his lips as he waited for Drake to continue.

“Yeah. Female, skeleton is roughly three hundred years old.”

Liam stared down into the amber liquid thoughtfully. It was nothing they didn’t already know. “Liv already told us that much.”

Drake grunted. Liv had a fifty-fifty shot of guessing the gender correctly and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the body was placed there about the same time the throne room was sealed off.

Probably to hide their crime.

Which engendered many more questions. To seal off a throne room required input from a monarch. Was a king or queen responsible for whatever had happened all those centuries ago?

“She’s real, Drake.”

“She’s not, Li.”

“Agree to disagree. You’ll see.”

“I’ll watch you have a wet dream; you mean?”

Liam flushed, “Shut up. It’s real.”

Drake brought his drink to his mouth with a shrug. “Ok.”

They sat in silence for a while sipping their drinks and watching the night sky. They had developed a comfortable silence with each other over the years and it was valuable to both of them. The ability and the opportunity to just sit with their thoughts, to relax in each other’s company.

Liam drained his glass of bourbon. He tipped his head back to gaze up at the night sky with a yawn. He felt a little disoriented and a lot sleepy. Far sleepier than he should be from one glass of bourbon.

He recognized the sensation. His eyes went to his drink then to his best friend’s face in alarm, “What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean!” Panic sliced through every word, “You spiked my drink?”

“Not me.”

“Fine, Liv did it then, but you knew! You helped her, didn’t you? Distracted me by fighting about it while she did it?”

“Calm down, Li. You can use the rest.”

“Why? I thought you didn’t believe in any of this?”

“I believe you need a good night’s sleep.” Drake replied evenly. “Why are you so pressed by this?”

“I don’t want anyone else to die, Drake!”

“No one’s going to die, Li! I promise!”

“You can’t promise that!”

“I can! I’ve doubled the patrols, I’ve posted extra guards at the end of every hallway, I’ve added more cameras, motion sensors, I’ve taken every precaution-“

“None of that is going to work!”

Drake stood from his chair with a shout, “Just get in the bed, Li, you need the fucking rest!”

Liam stood too, stumbling toward the bed, “Fuck you, Drake! I’m never going to forgive you if I wake up and you’re dead!”

Drake’s anger drained out of him as concern flooded in. His best friend might be losing it. “I’m not going to die, Li. Just get some sleep, okay?”

“She’ll kill you.” Liam mumbled as he drifted off to sleep, “I could have saved you.”

There was a soft knock on the door. Drake pulled it open to find Liv standing in the hallway.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, “Shouldn’t you be out summoning your aunt, or grandmother or whatever?”

“I wanted to check on Liam.”

Drake stood back and let her in the room, “He’s asleep, as you can see.”

“He drank it?”

“He drank it.”

“Good. Here.” She thrust something toward him.

“What’s this?” He gazed down at the small, ceramic disk on a corded metal chain. It was blue and silver, embedded with bits of amethyst, moonstone, rose quartz and hematite.

“It’s a protection amulet.”

“Liv, I don’t believe in-“

“You don’t have to, Drake! Just fucking take it! Humor me, please!”

He watched the desperation dance across her face and relented. He pulled it from her hand with a sigh, “Fine.”

“Thank you.”

“What do I do with it?”

“Wear it, put it in your pocket, whatever, just keep it on your person at all times.”

“Ok, Liv. Thank you.” It was sweet of her to care. Even if he knew there was no such thing as a succubus, or an eidolon or whatever she believed in.

He saw her to the door, closed it behind her and locked it.

He picked up Liam’s laptop on his way back across the room, tossing the amulet onto the end table next to the divan.

He was wide awake when the door to Liam’s room creaked open as if he hadn’t locked it. There was no mistaking his state of consciousness. He had been scrolling through Cordonian history when he heard the creak. He’d been looking up who was ruling three hundred years ago.

Not that he believed in any of it.

He stood to face whatever threat came through the door and found himself face to face with a woman. The most alluring woman he had ever seen in his life.

She was completely naked and breathtakingly beautiful. Long, dark tresses flowed down her back in silky ringlets. Her skin glowed with preternatural beauty, her cheeks pink, her lips redder than they should have been.

His cock hardened in his pants as his eyes fell down her body. The flawless, smooth  flesh, the curve of her ample bosom, full and inviting, areolas puckered, nipples erect. His tongue flicked out as he imagined pulling one into his mouth, sucking with his mouth as his hand caressed the other.

Her body curved in at the waist and flared out at the hips. Her legs were long, lean, toned. He imagined spreading them apart and delving between them. He was consumed by a sudden and overwhelming need to know how she tasted.

He mustered every ounce of willpower in his arsenal just to hold still. Every nerve ending in his body was screaming at him to touch her.

“Drake.” His name fell from her lips lyrically, hypnotically, a siren call. He wanted to go to her, lose himself in her embrace, drown in her, die for her if necessary.

“No!” A strangled whisper, a desperate plea.

“It’s ok.” She assured him, taking a step closer. “It won’t hurt. You’ll quite enjoy it.”

“Who…what…are you?” He breathed.

“I am a succubus of sorts, your friend had it partially right. I can feed on many things. Pain and terror, while effective, tastes bitter, acrid. I prefer to feed on fear and ecstasy,” Her eyes glittered with an unnatural brightness, “It tastes sublime!”

The tip of her tongue slipped between her lips and ran across them as she gave him the most seductive smile he’d ever seen in his life.

Fear struck through him, but so did desire. He wanted to say no. His logical mind was screaming at him that to give into her was death.

Drake Walker had excellent survival instincts. Drop him in the wilderness with nothing, and he would build a shelter, a fire, a fishing pole, out of materials he found in nature.

He was a decorated marksman, both with a firearm and a crossbow. He was trained and proficient in multiple forms of martial arts. He was passingly familiar with explosives. He had good instincts that had saved him, and his men, more than once.

Yet faced with this promise of blissful death, he was powerless to resist.

Drake shook his head in feeble protest, but his body betrayed him. The closer she came, the more he wanted her. The closer she came, the greater his terror. The closer she came, the less capable of rational thought he became, until he was simply radiating fear and desire.

Her preferred meal.

She pressed her naked body into his. His hands moved unbidden, against his will, to glide up the sides of her legs, over her hips, tracing her curves, his fingertips on fire, his body ready to combust.

Her lips met his and he did not resist.

Her hands ran through his hair, across his jaw and down his body. He shuddered under her touch.

His hands pulled her closer, tighter, every rational thought gone from his head, every survival instinct quelled, quieted.

She was all he knew. She was all he wanted. She was all he needed.

She shoved him and he let himself fall back onto the divan, his arms pulling her down with him.

She climbed on top of him, her hands working at the fasteners of his pants. He lifted his hips and shoved them down. His hands grasped her at the hips. He guided her over him and his moans filled the room as she lowered herself onto him.

His hands found her lush, plump breasts, his lips pulled at a taut nipple, his hips undulated under her. Pleasure burned through every synapse. Trance inducing ecstasy spread through his body, warming him, lulling him, trapping him.

With a strangled cry he thrust up into her as he exploded, wave after wave of bliss pulsing through him.

She leaned forward and began to feed, her eyes glowing a soft red as she pulled the sexual energy from the room and into her aura. She began to glow brighter as she drank him down.

As the euphoria began to ebb, fear started to build again. He felt his life force beginning to loosen as it flowed out of him and into her. Darkness clouded the edges of his vision as his grip on life began to fade.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered as she began to suck the aura away from his body.

Her voice echoed in the distance recesses of his soul.

The room spun.

He was in the palace, but not this room. A different room. A small, cramped room in the servant’s quarters. She was there. His sword and armor lay discarded near the door.

He lay on the bed smiling up at her. She was on top of him, legs spread around him as she leaned forward with a bright smile, her long locks spilling into her face as she crooned, “I love you, Gawain.”

He reached up to cup her cheek, love spilling through his heart, “I love you too, Rezna.”

Drake’s fingers weakly brushed her face and with the last bit of strength he possessed, he whispered, “Rezna…”

She pulled back like she’d been electrocuted, dropping the thread of energy connecting them, ending her feeding session while he still had life in him.

Barely.

She stared, wild eyed, into his soul. Past the trappings of his physical appearance, past his new name in this new life. With the taste of his life force still fresh on her lips and his aura still mingling with her own, she saw him.

The magic broke as regret and panic crashed through her.

The veneer of irresistible sexual magnetism was gone, replaced with the appearance of a very human and very distraught young woman. “Gawain! You can’t die! You can’t! Not again!”

Drake could only watch her, eyes tracking her every movement. He was too weak to lift his hand again, too weak to speak.

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she caressed his face, a wounded animal sound issuing from her as she sobbed.

Suddenly her head snapped up, “I know! The witch can save you! Please hold on!”

With a faint popping sound, she misted out of existence as if she’d never been there.

His eyes fluttered shut as he fell down into darkness.

#eidolon #ghost story #trr #the royal romance fanfic #horror #angelasscribbles #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #trr fanfic #liam rys #drake walker #olivia nevrakis

[ofduskanddreams]

The Leap of Faith pt.2

So happy to share the second part of this Elucien fic started by the lovely @shadowsingerofnight for the ACOTAR writing circle hosted by @azrielshadowssing

Read Part 1 here. Access the writing circle masterlist here.

SFW & 2.6k words — enjoy :)

~Lucien POV ~

There was a fuzzy kind of ringing echoing between his ears as the room around him blurred. Lucien reached a hand out and found purchase on the back of a chair, attempting to steady himself as the world shifted on its axis beneath his feet.

Heir of Day

Heir of Day

Heir of Day

The mark couldn’t possibly be referring to him could it? Few things were more impossible than that—weren’t they?

“... re you alright?” Through the muffled echo, Lucien heard Feyre’s concerned voice.

“What?” He asked, his voice thicker than usual.

“Are you okay, Lucien?” This time it was Elain’s soft voice addressing him.

“No, sorry.” Lucien turned towards Helion as the rest of the room filtered back into focus. “What did you say?”

Helion’s eyes looked rather frightened, a little wider than normal, and they flitted about the room marking everyone and their reactions. 

“The mark,” the High Lord of Day cleared his throat, “It translates directly to the one upon whom the sun bestows its rays, and the lady upon whom the Mother bestows her light. More commonly, the first part is translated to mean the Sun’s chosen heir to the Day Court.” 

“Is there any possibility that it doesn’t mean that?” Lucien asked, hoping that it really couldn’t be true.

Helion released a pained sounding sigh. “Is there someplace that Lucien and I may speak privately?” He asked Rhys.

Lucien followed the two high lords numbly down the hall and through the door to Rhys’s personal study. 

“Take all the time you need, and let me know if there’s anything I can help with.” Rhys nodded to them both and closed the door as he stepped back out into the hall.

Lucien’s ears popped as the unmistakable feeling of a privacy shield swept over him. He scrubbed a hand over his face already half-mired in defeat, “So I take it that there is no alternate translation?”

The High Lord of the Day Court looked at him wearing an apologetic grimace. But he didn’t speak, rather he walked over to the brass bar cart and picked up two crystal tumblers and a decanter of amber liquid. “How many fingers?” He asked.

Lucien could only shrug, “however many you’re having, I guess.”

Though Helion’s back was to him, Lucien watched the High Lord’s shoulders sag as another sigh sounded amidst the gurgling of whiskeys poured.

He’d never really interacted with Helion Spell-Cleaver before, only seen the male from a distance. Quiet and nervous were two things that the High Lord of Day decidedly wasn’t, which was making Lucien even more nervous—if that was even possible. He felt like his heart had been replaced by a bustling hive of hornets.

Lucien accepted the glass of whiskey, gulping down its contents in a single movement as Helion did the same. The slight burn of the alcohol sweeping down helped to call Lucien back into his own body, grounding him amidst the swirling tempest that was his mind.

“I met your mother when we were both young, before the human-fae war at a Solstice party held in the Day Court by my parents. The mating bond snapped for me the first night we met, but Serafina was already engaged to Beron. She was due to marry him when her family returned to Autumn after the celebration, so she did.”

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Lucien interrupted, an edge of a growl laced in his words. There had been a chance that his mother wouldn’t have had to marry Beron? That was a thing Lucien would gladly sacrifice his existence for—for his mother to never know the strike of a hand raised against her.

“I offered, but even then I knew your mother would never agree. You see, Beron wanted her magic so desperately that he’d made her father a bargain for her hand in marriage. If Serafina tried to back out of the agreement, her family would have died. Beron was a sick son of a bitch, even back then.”

Lucien made a grunt of agreement as Helion continued.

“Knowing that there was no way for Fina to avoid the marriage, I decided not to tell her about the mating bond. You might think me cruel, but it hadn’t snapped for her yet and I wanted to spare her that burden.”

Helion paused as his gaze drifted out of the window where the Sidra glittered in the distance.

“So if she got married to Beron then, how was I even possible? Eris was her first born and that was years into their marriage.”

Helion sighed and nodded, as if convincing himself to continue. “I didn’t have any contact with her for decades, then the war began. A long story short, I was in Autumn and reached your mother in time to save her from Hybern’s troops…unfortunately I was too late for your aunts. We stayed in touch, secretly from then on. Even if the bond hadn’t snapped on her end, we shared an undeniable connection and I was happy to be whatever she needed me to be. On the very rare occasions that Beron was away from the Forest House for extended periods of time, your mother and I would meet.”

Lucien felt himself nodding as the High Lord spoke, everything the male was saying made sense. It was still hard to imagine, but the more he thought about it the more it made sense that he wasn’t Beron’s son.

“A little over three hundred years ago, Serafina wrote me a letter saying that she could no longer see me or speak with me. There weren’t any details. I just assumed that Beron was growing more possessive and controlling and that she didn’t think it was worth the risk. As much as that pained me, I could understand. I knew that our relationship was far more dangerous for her than it was for me. The whole thing was selfish of me really but I think you know just how much a mating bond pulls. I take it you are a little over three hundred years old?” Helion arched an onyx brow in question.

“Yes,” Lucien supplied.

The High Lord looked him over again. “Forgive my curiosity, but is your golden eye itself magical or is it spelled?”

Of all the questions he thought Helion might ask, that wasn’t one of them.

“It’s tinkered, so no—there are no spells. Why do you ask?”

Helion chuckled, “Well, because you are half covered in spells. Skillfully woven, nearly undetectable ones.”

Lucien didn’t know what to make of that. He’d seen spells on himself, but thought it was just the ones he applied to himself. To keep his clothes wrinkle free, to keep his hair from tangling—basic little things like that.

“May I?” Helion made an ambiguous gesture towards him.

“Sure.” Lucien didn’t know what he was agreeing to, but figured that his father wouldn’t harm him. Children were sacred to the Fae. Even unknown, fully grown ones.

Lucien didn’t know how to describe the sensation that came over him beneath the luminescent net of Helion’s magic. It was like being outside on a very humid day where the air clung heavy to his skin and then winnowing somewhere else and realizing just how cloying that old air had been in its absence.

“What did you do?” He asked the High Lord.

“I broke the spells. From the looks of them, they were binding your magic. The magic you inherited from me, I would presume.

Lucien was about to ask another question when a commotion sounded beyond the study, and he felt a rush of apprehension that could only belong to Elain. Then night-kissed talons brushed against his mental shield. 

Eris is on the front lawn. That was all that Rhys said through the mental connection before it went quiet again, but Lucien was already reaching for the doorknob and wrenching it open. He could sense Helion following closely behind him as he made his way through the house in long strides.

~Elain POV~

After Lucien and Helion had gone into the study, Elain had chosen to head out and tend to the rose bushes lining the front walk instead of waiting inside and stewing in her thoughts.

“Hello there, little sister.” A male voice drawled from somewhere behind her.

Elain whipped around as she rose to her full height and faced a male with close cropped scarlet hair, dressed in a smartly tailored navy blue tunic.

“I’m sorry, I think you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” Elain tried to sound as blithely polite as she could. 

With men—males—it was always safest to pretend like she didn’t know anything. Elain had grown so accustomed to playing that role all these years, she often found herself slipping into it subconsciously. 

“You are Elain Archeron, are you not, Lady?” He asked with mock incredulity.

Elain pasted a prim smile on her face, and dusted her hands off on her apron to buy herself a moment’s time. She didn’t know much about how the mating bond worked but Elain tugged on that little thread of light behind her ribs and hoped that Lucien could sense that something was wrong.

“And you are?” She asked the male, folding her arms across her chest.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours—a courtesy given that I already know who you are, little fawn.” The male dipped his chin in a sketch of a bow.

“Yes, I’m Elain.” She conceded. Elain prided herself on reading people, men—males—especially. This one didn’t seem like he meant her any harm, rather he was enjoying a little verbal jesting at her expense. Well—she’d had worse.

“Eris Vanserra, lady. It’s a pleasure to finally put a face to the name as they say.”

Before Elain got the chance to respond, she was pushed behind a set of broad shoulders fanned with long crimson hair.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Lucien’s voice was a guttural growl as the world around Elain went instantly dark with the metallic stardusted night of Rhys’s magic.

Instinctively, she reached forwards and grabbed a fistful of Lucien’s shirt—something tangible to anchor her in the blackness.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it was rude to show up places uninvited, Eris?” Rhysand’s voice echoed, his magic making it seem like his voice sounded from all sides.

“Relax Rhysand.” Eris drawled. “I’m here on family business, nothing political or untowards. I figured that Lucien might have some questions, considering that the spells just broken were mine to begin with.”

Slowly the view of the River House’s front lawn came back into view as the High Lord’s magic dissolved in a soft breeze blowing in off the Sidra.

Lucien still stood between her and his eldest brother, Helion stood on his left and Rhysand was on Lucien’s right side. She let go of Lucien’s shirt.

“Well, should we talk out here or shall we discuss this more privately?” Eris asked the group, seemingly unbothered by the menacing stances and threatening glares of the powerful fae assembled.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when the door to Rhysand’s study shut behind the two autumn males and high lords, but Elain found herself standing in the hall—disappointed.

This was the thing she had been so good at brushing off for so many years, to the point that it had become second nature.

After her mother’s death, Elain’s life had become a fog. Even if she had been a harsh woman, that didn’t stop a daughter from idolizing her mother, from craving her approval like water or air. 

In the years since she’d been Made fae, Elain had begun to untangle her mind. Being so far removed from everything she had known before had been jarring to say the least. However, once she could hear her thoughts over the sounds of everyone’s heartbeats, could separate her reality from the fractured visions flitting through her mind’s eye, that distance allowed her to look back at her life more clearly than ever before.

Elain had spent her formative years understanding that she was only as valuable as others believed her to be. A young lady, a woman, was supposed to be a pretty, pliant, and politely practical thing—that had been the role her mother wished her to fill so Elain had done it to the best of her ability. When she passed, Elain had felt adrift. 

The funeral, their father losing his fortune, the mess with the debt collectors, the years in the cottage—until Feyre was stolen by Tamlin, Elain’s life had been a fog eclipsed by moments of lucidity. Looking back now, she felt horribly guilty for how Feyre had to take care of them. Depression—that was what the retired healer had called it when she and Elain had gotten to chatting while she’d helped plant her garden.

Most days during those years it was hard enough to get out of bed, paste on a smile, and take care of their father and the cottage while Feyre hunted and Nesta begrudgingly did some chores. She didn’t tell anyone that—she couldn’t have. What good would a broken girl have been to them? So she’d done it every day—she got up and did what little she was capable of to help.

The night Feyre was taken had been a wake up call of sorts. Then the whole business with Tamlin’s generosity and their father’s “recovered” fortune had all felt too good to be true but what choice did she have but to go along with it? Elain had decided to make use of the situation while it lasted, that’s when she’d set her sights on Graysen. Marrying him would have secured her family financially when their father’s luck inevitably ran out again…

She didn’t need to think about this now. It might just send her back into that spiralling numbness. She’d gotten better, but it was still too easy to slip back into who she’d been. Especially because Elain really wasn’t sure who she wanted to be.

Halfway down the hall between the sitting room and Rhy’s study, Elain felt the familiar grip of a vision take hold of her and she barely caught herself on the wall before reality faded completely. 

It’s night, the air smells like sweet incense burning and roasted meat. She is standing on a balcony lit by coal braziers, watching as two fae lean against the railing as they look out over the unfamiliar city beyond them and the moonlit sea glimmering in the distance.

With a start, Elain realizes that the male is Helion Spell-Cleaver. A much younger version of the High Lord a few doors away. The young female beside him has crimson hair hanging in soft waves to her waist—Lucien’s red hair. The female skips away and into the building—palace—behind them.

She waves over her shoulder and calls, “I guess I’ll just be the sunshine to your hell, then!”

As her figure disappears, Elain is hit with a staggering wave of wonder and crushing sadness.

The scene devolves into a series of flashes.

A crown of golden spikes melting in the heart of a raging fire.

A cold breeze that makes her shiver, the sun eclipsed by darkness high in the sky.

Cerulean waves pummeling a tan limestone cliff as a child’s laugh floats up from the beach.

Polished white marble swallowed by brilliant green ivy, the night sky lit by thousands of lanterns floating.

“The time has finally come sweet one, my pretty little fawn.” A haunting voice croons.

“One message sent, one heart broken then healed. Which two give life, both warm and reveal? But one gives freely while the other must steal? What has been marked cannot be erased. So beware, my lovely. Be decisive, make haste. The night brings many choices which must be faced.”

Part 3 will be completed by another of these delightful writers (tagged above or below) by September 10th!

@headcanonheadcase @hlizr50 @velidewrites @violet-shadows @the-lonelybarricade @thehaemanthus

#elucien #lucien spell cleaver #lucien vanserra #elain acotar #elain archeron #helion spell cleaver #elain x lucien #eris vanserra #elucien fanfiction #elucien fic #pro elucien #pro elain #pro lucien #rhysand #feyre archeron #feyre acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotarwritingcircle

[starlitangels]

How They Met

Well, I told y’all I was gonna write how Pandora met Odin. Have fun! 1.9k words (almost exactly!)

—

“Y’know, you’re really good at stuff like this. You should, like, run with a permanent crew,” Huginn said. I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“Nah. At my level, permanent crews can’t afford each other,” I said with a sarcastic snort. Huginn took a turn to roll his eyes. “Singular contracts are about all people like me can get.”

He turned and kept a lookout while I huddled over the lock, picking it with careful precision. Most locks on Esselheim were easy for me to get past, despite their complexity. A race of biomechanicals tended to over-engineer things unnecessarily. But that didn’t always make them better. This lock, though, was giving me trouble. Not more trouble than I could handle. It just required more time than usual.

“There we go. Got it,” I hissed as the last tumbler clicked into place and let me turn the bolt.

I started to twist—carefully—when I felt something in the lock catch.

“What?” I whispered.

I paused my movements and turned the mechanism back toward its original position, but not quite reaching the place. And then paused.

Nothing happened.

“What’s wrong?” Huginn asked.

“Not sure. The lock hit a catch,” I replied.

“Trap?”

“Possibly. But fitting a trap into a lock’s path would be difficult. Not to mention a pain to disengage for the people who are supposed to be here.”

Huginn made a face. “Hmm. So what’s the plan?”

“Well, I was—”

BWOOOOP! BWOOOOP! BWOOOOP!

The alarm made me jolt.

“Dammit,” I muttered. “I didn’t trigger that, did I?”

“Look who cares? Scatter before we get arrested!” Huginn took off running the same way we’d come in. Not far in the distance, I could hear the clanking of armor. Guards coming to investigate the alarm. Shouting joined the clanking. Along with projectiles being fired.

I rolled my eyes and ducked down a different corridor. Like as not, the guards didn't know the traps. If I could dodge through one, it would slow them down and help me escape.

In theory.

I took corners at random, trying to find my way out and make myself hard to follow.

But one of those corners seemed to take me to the thick of the conflict.

I pinwheeled my arms as I backpedalled. With a sharp curse, I ducked behind some sort of ruined statue plinth.

“There’s another one!” I heard a guard shout. An energy bolt struck the plinth. I swore and crouched low to make myself a smaller target. A few more hit the stone above and behind where I was somewhat hidden.

Cackling laughter rose over the din. I heard the shing! of metal cleaving through weapons.

“It’s the intruder! Get him!” another guard barked.

“Ha-haaaaa! Come and get me you f—” Bzoop! An energy bolt fired and plink!ed off something metal. “—ers!” The voice wasn’t Huginn’s. Nor was it anyone else that had been hired for this crazy scheme. Huginn and I had been the only ones to go inside anyway. Everyone else was on logistics or tech.

One thing was for sure, I was probably not going to get paid after this. Especially after Huginn bailed. No way would I make it to the merchandise on my own in the middle of a shootout.

The sound of energy bolts being fired increased. Whoever had been cackling cried out, “Whoa—whoa!” and started running. Bootfalls weighed down by heavy armor thudded over the stone floor. 

I didn’t dare peek out for fear of getting shot myself.

With a clumsy flop, someone crashed into the back of the plinth beside me. “Whew!” that same voice exclaimed. “Finally—some decent cover!”

I whirled around to see another Joten leaning back against the plinth. There was a massive battle axe, a raven carved down the metal blade and charred in a few spots, in his hands and across his lap.

“Hey!” I protested. “This spot’s taken! Find your own!”

“What? Oh, come on. We can share!”

“We absolutely cannot,” I retorted, pushing at him to get him away from me. Being smaller than the average Joten myself, this guy was absolutely massive and was going to crowd me out of my hiding spot.

He resisted my pushing. “Whoa. Slow down!”

“You’re going to get me killed and I don’t know you. No way am I going to trust you.”

“I’m Odin.”

“I don’t care—that doesn’t make me know you.”

“We’re both being shot at!”

“Yeah, and I assume that’s your fault. ‘Cause it sure as hell wasn’t mine!”

“Were you breaking in too?”

“What are you, a guard? Mind your own business.”

“You’ve got lock-picks sticking out of your wrist pockets,” this Odin guy pointed out.

“Now is not the time!” I snapped, peeking out from behind the plinth before quickly ducking back. “We are getting shot at from three sides and you’re asking if I broke in?” I shoved the lock picks deeper into my pockets so they wouldn’t stick out.

“Hey, I did too. There’s s’posed to be sweet loot in here.”

“Why do you think it’s full of traps?” I narrowed my eyes and slid a tiny mirror out of my bag. The kind that I usually used to reflect laser tripwires back on themselves. With it, I took quick stock of the guards. “By the Twin Gods... There’s at least twenty of them,” I muttered.

Odin looked down and met my eyes. “Know how to fight, thief?”

“I can handle myself in low numbers. This isn’t a low number.”

He gave me a lopsided, cocky smile. “Good thing you have me then.”

“Arrogant much?”

“Only on Wednesdays.”

“It’s Monday.”

“Close enough!” He beamed. “I’ll go right and take as many guards down as I can. You go left and try to get through the trapdoor on the floor.”

“Are you nuts?!” I exclaimed.

He smirked mischievously. “Only on Mondays.”

With that, he leapt out from behind the plinth, swinging his axe and roaring a battle cry.

I sighed in exasperation and rolled my eyes. Using my small mirror, I did a quick sweep of the room again. “Gods above,” I muttered.

I yanked a smoke canister out of my bag, popped the pin, and rolled it away from me, toward Odin.

“Hey big guy! Fall back!” I shouted as the smoke started to spew.

As the area started to get more and more obscured, I dodged out from behind the plinth myself and stole toward the uneven flagstone in the floor that was an obvious trapdoor.

I moved faster than I ever had to pop the trapdoor open—right as Odin slid to a stop on his knees beside me, axe slung over his back. “Going down,” I said, hopping over the edge of the hole in the floor and landing solidly on the metal ladder rungs hammered into the wall. I dropped down several to make room for Odin. He quickly followed. Once he was fully in the hole, he shut the trapdoor on top of us as quiet as he could.

We both went down the ladder as fast as we could. I hit the stone ground first and backed out of the way. Odin dropped off the rungs from right where he was, landing heavily but his knees took the shock of the impact easily. His knee servos must have had better absorbers than mine.

Warrior. Explorer. Adventurer. Probably. He was built for endurance. I was built for stealth. I was quiet, he was hardy.

“Where are we?” I asked, looking around. “This wasn’t on my blueprint of the place.”

“Catacombs. This was a temple, right?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugged. “Temples usually enshrine the dead somewhere.” He rolled his shoulders to adjust how his axe sat in its holster on his back. “Which means there’s a way out somewhere.”

“Problem being most catacombs are confusing.”

“Yeah, yeah. That.”

“So... what? We’re just bailing on the loot?”

Odin glanced up the hole we’d climbed down. “We’ll come back,” he said with a determined nod.

“I’m here because I was hired to be,” I said. “If I go back empty-handed, I don’t get paid.”

He scoffed. “Whatever they were paying you is a pittance compared to what we can lift from this place on our own.” He held his hand out. “Allow me to introduce myself properly. I’m Odin. You never gave me your name.”

I shook his hand. “You haven’t earned it,” I replied, extracting my hand from his grip and stomping away.

He had the audacity to chuckle at my attitude before following after me. “How do you plan on getting out of here?”

“Following the scent of the air.”

“Meaning?”

“A surface-level exit will bring in slightly-fresher air,” I grumbled. “Follow the scent of it and we’ll find at least a vent to the surface.”

“Huh. Smart idea.”

I glowered at him over my shoulder. “I’ve been doing this for a while. I should hope so.”

“So you are a thief.”

“Treasure hunter,” I corrected.

He shrugged again. “Same difference.” He leaned forward, closer to me. “Y’know, I’m a bit of a treasure hunter myself. And you seem to be quite the, uh, treasure—”

“Don’t even try it,” I interrupted.

“Worth a shot.”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “We’re running away from guards after you got me caught and you’re trying to flirt.”

“May as well try, right?”

“I cannot believe this is how my day is going,” I grumbled. “First the alarm gets triggered by a dumbass and now I’m stuck in the catacombs with him.” I shook my head. “You’d better win me over before we get out of here or there’s nothing stopping me from ratting on you when we get out.”

“Except for the fact that you broke in first.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe I will be too,” he retorted.

“You’re doing a pretty terrible job of winning me over.”

“No. I think I already have. You’re finding me funny, despite being annoyed.”

“Ugh. In your dreams, Owen.”

“It’s Odin!”

“Whatever.” I poked my head down the two prongs of a fork in the tunnels. “This way.” I marched down the left one.

We wandered the catacombs for what felt like hours, occasionally hearing guards running above us. But none seemed to have descended down into the intestines under the building. I couldn’t blame them.

Finally, we made it to a grate made of steel bars and padlocked shut—that led out to the surface. Beyond even the temple walls. “Thank the Twin Gods,” I muttered. I flicked my lock picks out of my pocket and into my hand and reached through the bars. I closed my eyes and picked the lock by feel.

It popped open. I got the padlock out of the pair of holes in the metal holding it shut and creaked the grate outward.

“You are very good at what you do,” Odin remarked.

“Yup,” I agreed. “Now. How about you go left and I go right and we act like this never happened?”

“Sure.” He moved to head down the alleyway toward the populated street beyond. “We should do this again sometime! Come back to this place and actually get the loot.”

“Mm,” I grunted noncommittally.

“See you around, nameless thief.” He raised a hand in an almost wave as he took several backward steps toward the left of the grate.

“Hope not!” I turned sharply and trotted away to the right.

—

Tagging some GB peeps to hopefully enjoy: @palilious @gwenifred @ryn-halo26 @halscafe @monster-scribe-tya @miloeveryday38

#Good Boy Audios #fic #GBA Odin #GBA Pandora #GBA Fourseen #Starlit Fic #Good Boy Audios fic #Good Boy Audios FanFiction #Good Boy Audios fanfic #Odin is arrogant on Wednesdays because Wednesday is named after Odin #(Woden's Day) #same way how Thursday is Thor's Day and Tuesday is Tiu's Day (Tiu being the other name for the god Tyr) #I know too much about things

[teddyeyeseddie]

Dead Men Tell No Tales: Chapter 7

Pairing: Pirate!Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language, Fluff, Angst

WC: 1,100+

A/N: Hiiiiii! I am finally feeling okay and healthy. I was beginning to worry about my health given how sick this pregnancy has made me but I am finally on the other side of this funk after 20 long weeks. Halfway there! Enjoy this chapter and remember feedback is my love language!

Thank you @lfaewrites for looking this over for me <333

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter

The pair are laid in bed, Dean’s hand tracing circles on Y/N’s back as she lays her head against his chest.

“Could we ever be normal?” she questions out of nowhere as her nails scratch at the hair adorning his belly. Dean grunts and turns to face her, his brow furrowed as he looks down at her. 

“Y/N…” he drones as he watches her pull her lip between her teeth, dread settling low in his stomach as he watches the hopeful glint in her eyes drain out of her eyes. 

“Being on this ship is all I know, I only know being out on the water with my crew. I don’t think I could be a normal man for you,” he reveals, his gut twisting as he watches tears form in her eyes at the idea that they will never be normal.

“But-” Dean cuts her off with a chaste kiss, smiling into it as his hand rubs up and down her arm. 

“I never said no, darling.”

Castiel and Benny are working on the Deck when they hear Dean’s boots thud across the deck towards them. Their heads snap up once Dean reaches them. 

“Cas, Benny can I speak with you two privately?” he questions. The two men nod their heads, leaving their tasks to be finished later. The two men follow Dean to his quarters, Dean easily pushing through the door. 

Dean smiles when he sees Y/N sitting at his desk, writing away in a Journal Dean had given her in her early days aboard. 

“Darling, could you give us a minute?” Dean asks as he walks towards her, lending her his hand, she smiles widely as she takes it. He lets her get settled on her feet before leading her to the door of the room. 

“We will only be a few minutes, why don’t you go help John in the kitchen? I am sure he needs some help preparing dinner for the crew.” he kisses her cheek as she happily nods her head. She turns on her heels and makes her way towards the kitchen.

“I need some help,” Dean breathes out as he takes a seat at his desk. The two men across from him straighten in their seats as they listen intently to the man before them.

“James and Nicholas have been disobedient the past few days, I am worried bringing Y/N on board has shown to be a problem,” 

The pair look between each other, the two men waiting for the other to open their mouths. Cas is the first to speak up, clearing his throat before talking. 

“I love Y/N, she is a great girl, but I think some of the crew are a little upset at her presence..”

“Pray tell?” Dean rasps out, reaching for a bottle of rum he and Y/N had cracked open the night before, pouring himself a glass despite the early hours of the morning.

“I think there is a group led by James that are planning a mutiny,”

Dean slams the glass down on the table, nearly breaking the tumbler as he seethes and ponders the words that have left Castiel’s mouth.

“And you didn’t think to come and let me know that my own crew is planning to turn against me?” Dean is towering over the two men now, his chest puffed out with anger. 

“Sir- if I may, I think if you were a little more gruff with Y/N and not so enthralled by her presence, men would take you more seriously,” Benny lets out, his gaze dropped to the floor, too afraid to say those words to his Captain’s face.

“I was “gruff” with the woman for 4 months before I let my feelings for her show. She earned her keep and wrestled her way into my soul and I will be damned if I let some group of mongrels try and force me to treat her like a normal crewmate. She is my woman and will be treated as such, my right hand lady.” His hands are braced on the mahogany desk before him, his knuckles white as his grip on the wood tightens. 

“You find the men who are planning to go against their Captain and you give me a list of names, aye?”

“Aye.”

“James, we have a total of twelve men on our side to take over the ship. I have exhausted all options but it seems that little girl has wrapped herself around too many of these men. She is probably screwing half the crew at this rate,” Nicholas seethes out as he stands before his boss. 

“Then we plan accordingly. We can take over this ship with twelve of us, we just have to get the captain to fold easily. We take the precious lady and get her on her knees before us, Captain will follow swiftly, I am sure of it. 

Dean makes his way to the kitchen, a smile forming on his face when she hears faint singing coming from the kitchen. He braces himself against the doorway and watches as Y/N stirs the contents of the pot before her. 

“I thought I heard the Old Man say

"Leave her, Johnny, leave her"

Tomorrow ye will get your pay

And it's time for us to leave her”

Dean clears his throat causing a gasp to leave her lips but before she can speak up, Dean is joining in on the song. 

“Leave her, Johnny, leave her

Oh, leave her, Johnny, leave her

For the voyage is long and the winds don't blow

And it's time for us to leave her”

She giggles at the theatrics Dean was putting on as he sang, his hand clutched to his chest as he bellowed out the words. Dean approached Y/N, the woman setting down her cooking utensils before she throws her arms around his neck, Dean’s hands resting on her hips as the pair continue to sing. 

“Oh, the wind was foul and the sea ran high

Leave her, Johnny, leave her

She shipped it green and none went by

And it's time for us to leave her”

The pair swayed back and forth as the soup on the stove continued to bubble. They finish out the song, Dean’s forehead resting against hers, a smile plastered on her face.

“One day I’ll leave her,” he breathes out, his lips desperately searching for hers, a searing kiss placed against them causing her to let out a small squeal which only causes Dean to chuckle.

“Me?” she questions.

“Never you. Leave her, the ship.”

TAGS

@hobby27 @lfaewrites @roonyxx @deanwanddamons @sassy-pelican @winchesterfanatic1967​ @akshi8278​  @missannwinchester @thoughts-and-funnies​@stixnstripesworld@lyarr24@kazsrm67@laycblack @mrsjenniferwinchester @drakelover78 @leigh70@that-one-gay-girl @muhahaha303 @okkulta @deans-baby-momma @fightthefairies1221

#Dean x reader #dean x reader series #dean x reader fluff #dean x reader angst #dean x reader smut #Dean Winchester x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #spn #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fanfic #supernatural #dean

[eliotqueliot]

After the Scarlatti Web

For the May 29 prompt: Bed Sharing, for @duckprintspress May Trope Mayhem

Fandom: The Magicians (TV)

Relationship: Quentin Coldwater/Eliot Waugh

Tags: Sharing a Bed, queliot, Insomnia, References to Depression, Fear, Falling In Love, Best Friends, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together

Summary: Quentin’s afraid to sleep. Eliot wants to help.

This story takes place following the end of 1x04, “The World in the Walls,” right after Quentin wakes up from being trapped in his own mind by Julia in the Scarlatti Web.

Warnings for canon-typical language. The first 1k is up on tumblr, but the whole story is on AO3; link at the end.

--------------

Eliot handed Quentin a brandy. Q glanced at him as their fingers brushed, but didn’t pull away. Instead he looked at Eliot as though he was some sort of lifeline.

Eliot reseated himself on the back of the couch beside Quentin and reached out to pet his hair again, but this time it was more than a quick pat. “How are you, Q? Really?”

“A little freaked out?”

“Understandable. If I get my hands on that hedge bitch—”

 Quentin shivered. He pulled Eliot’s hand off his head—but then he just held onto Eliot’s wrist for a minute. “God, no. Just let her be. I hate what she did—”

“You almost died, Quentin,” Eliot spat out. “There was a very good chance you were never going to wake up.”

“But I don’t blame her for being mad. I should have told the dean she had magic, like she wanted.”

“That doesn’t excuse—”

A smile ghosted over Quentin’s lips. “No, but maybe they would have mind-wiped her again? Before she could do anything stupid?”

It surprised a laugh out of Eliot. “God, I hope it takes next time.”

“Same.” Quentin drank his brandy. Eliot crossed around and sat next to him.

“What was it like in the mind-prison? How did you get out?” God, I was so worried, Quentin. His heart still hadn’t calmed the fuck down. The flood of relief was making him giddy, possibly stupid, because—he wanted to tell Quentin what he’d realized. How his heart dropped the moment they’d found Q unresponsive in the back of that closet. The moment he realized just how much he loved Quentin.

“It was my worst nightmare. I got committed.” Quentin tipped the tumbler, downing the rest in one go, and God, he didn’t recommend that, but Eliot reached for the glass instinctively. But Quentin shook his head to a refill. “You know, Eliot, you were there? Probably the one bright spot in the whole damned place.”

“Really?” Eliot’s aplomb was no match for this sudden surge of happiness. Inescapable: I love Quentin. Oh God, I’m head over heels. So that’s what it means… Fuck, he was in trouble.

Quentin sighed and flopped back against the cushions. “The funny thing is… I slept for what, ten hours? Thirteen? But I’ve never been so tired in my life. I feel like I’ve been running for, like, a month. Only…sleeping right now? I can’t even. Would I ever wake up? Is it bad that I’m so tired I almost don’t care?”

Eliot took Q’s hand and stood decisively. “Come with me, Quentin.”

“El, I have to go to class.”

“They can excuse you for one day. After this? They can excuse you for a month. You almost died, Quentin. And their famous methods of dealing with former students and warding against hedge magic didn’t work.”

But halfway up the stairs, Quentin sighed heavily and just stopped walking. “I’m not sure I ever want to sleep again, to be honest.”

“I can watch over you, Q. If you’re worried about it.” Always. I’ll always be there for you, Q. “It’s no trouble.” Oh, I can think of so many ways to help you sleep… Sternly, he told his brain to settle down.

“My guardian angel?” Despite the cheeky smile, Quentin looked so tired, so serious. “Thank you, El. But—I’ll let you know? Right now I need to get my books and just—make it to class. So I don’t get mind-wiped too.”

“Don’t worry, Q. I’m not going to let that happen.” Eliot helped Q gather his books, tucked his tag back in his shirt collar, smoothed Q’s hair, and had just enough time to grab him a water bottle before Q rushed out the door.

Eliot had class himself, and plans with Margo, but he tried to keep an eye out for Q. Quentin didn’t come back till late after dinner—apparently having a serious meeting with Dean Fogg, among other things. Eliot put a plate together for him—heard all about it while Quentin ate, even though there was a previously scheduled party to attend to. When Quentin pushed back his chair and announced he was going to crash, Eliot followed him upstairs to make sure he had strong enough wards to keep out the noise of the party, before wishing him a peaceful sleep.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to stay? I don’t mind. I have plenty of homework. I can sit up and read,” Eliot found himself babbling. “Make sure nothing happens. Keep up the sound wards.”

Quentin just smiled tiredly and waved at the bed. “It’s okay. I’m so wiped I could sleep through anything at this point. But I appreciate it.”

Then he closed the door.

Eliot just stood there for a moment. The way his heart surged out of his chest, still on the other side of that door, with Quentin…felt like an out-of-body experience.

The next morning, Eliot got up early to make Quentin breakfast before class. Quentin dragged himself downstairs just in time, clearly struggling.

Q talked to him, but he seemed subdued, his chatter coming more slowly than usual. While he moved about the kitchen, Eliot snuck worried glances at Q. Each time, he found Q sitting there, slumped in the chair, his usually eloquent hands flat on the table like fallen birds.

When he set the plate of scrambled eggs on toast in front of his favorite nerd, Eliot murmured, “Are you okay?”

“I didn’t sleep all night, El. I mean, I tried, okay? But I guess I’m kind of afraid to? Every time I close my eyes, they pop back open after a few minutes. What if I never wake up? I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to sleep again,” he repeated his fears more forcefully—this time backed by experience. He looked up at Eliot miserably.

Eliot soothed a hand between his shoulders. “You probably got enough sleep for a while, Q.” “And now I’m going to fall asleep in class and flunk out and be mindwiped,” Q fretted.

#may trope mayhem #duck prints press #eliot waugh #quentin coldwater #queliot #quentin x eliot #the magicians #queliot fanfic

[nicoletabard]

I’m so glad to finally be back on tumblr after all these years and I’m ready to start posting pictures again for you all

#blog #please like and share #newest blog #newpost #finally back #help me reach more followers on tumbler #social media #tumblelog #check out my tumbler account #latest news #new update #feel free to reblog #nice comments #blogger #love to write #new blog

[mieteve-minijoma]

Sneak Peek: Hide and Seek (Bughead AU)

“Alright... I’ll help you - but you have to tell me if anything goes wrong. Promise?” Jughead stepped closer, dipping his head low to meet her downcast eyes. “Betts? Promise me.”

“I promise, Jug. I trust you,” she said in a whisper, her voice trembling.

“Okay, come sit here,” he said, dragging a few of the kitchen chairs to the living room. He sat and motioned for her to take a seat in the chair facing him, “This may be easier than on the couch.”

Betty stood, pulling on the hem of her vest nervously as she made her way around the coffee table. He could tell from her posture and the way she keep clenching and unclenching her fists that she was more terrified of what he may find than of him actually poking her subconscious.

“Relax, Betty, I’ve got you. Give me your hands,” he said softly. She took a deep breath, placing her trembling hands in his steady ones, his touch instantly calming her. “Alright, now close your eyes and listen to the sound of my voice. I want you to imagine you are walking down a flight of stairs, can you see?”

“Yes,” she answered, her mind feeling more and more clear as she got closer to the bottom of the staircase. 

“Good, now picture a door at the end of the stairs,” he said, his mind clearly seeing what she was imagining. Jughead noticed immediately that he couldn’t read her thoughts anymore and his hearing has been restored.

And as he took a closer look, he realized that this Betty wasn’t the Betty Cooper of today, she was the Betty Cooper from eight years ago. 

His Betty... 

He shook that thought loose as he followed her footsteps closely, speaking in her ear. “This is the door that leads to your subconscious, Betty. I need you to open the door.”

Mindscape Betty turned around, her ponytail swinging from side to side with the motion. 

“I’m scared, Jug...”

“Don’t be scared, I’ve got you. I won’t let anything hurt you,” he declared, placing his hands on her shoulders to reassure her. 

That was the moment he noticed the weathered leather jacket and rings he hadn’t worn in years. He looked down and saw that he too was not himself - he was dressed exactly like he did when they were in high school.

Back before things fell apart, back when they were still... Best not to go back there, Jughead.

“Okay...” Betty nodded, tightening her ponytail as she turned towards the door. He couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, remembering all the times she’d done that when she was determined to solve a mystery. She attempted to turn the knob but it only jiggled, refusing to turn. “It’s locked.”

“So, unlock it.”

“How? I don’t have a key,” she huffed.

“When has that ever stopped you, Nancy Drew?” he asked with a grin. 

Betty’s eyes lit up and she reached into her hair, pulling out the bobby pins she secretly keep there. She seemed giddy as she dropped to her knees, listening closely for the tumblers to click. It took less than a minute for her to pick the lock, even though she hadn’t done it in years. She stood up and grabbed the knob, her other hand finding Jughead’s.

“Ready?” she asked. 

“Ready...”

----------------------------------------------------

Coming Soon To AO3

(Let me know what you guys think of the snippet!)

#bughead au #bughead fanfiction #bughead fanfic #riverdale au #bughead #betty x jughead #betty and jughead #bettyxjughead #cw riverdale

[dreaminghour]

QuiAni Housewarming

Event: @domaystic Fandom: Star Wars Rating: Teen and Up Prompt: 01 Housewarming Ship: Qui-Gon/Anakin Context: Modern AU. Qui-Gon is a karate instructor and Anakin is an adult model who takes his self-defense course. He then gives Qui-Gon a link to his page in an attempt to ask him out. Words: 657

"What's this?"

Qui-Gon blinked at him, still holding up the foil wrapped bottle — clearly a bottle of alcohol — for a few more seconds before he raised his eyebrows.

"Hello, Sensei," Qui-Gon said, pitching his voice so it was lighter, like Anakin's. "How are you? Welcome, please come in."

Anakin just scoffed and shook his head, reaching to grab Qui-Gon's elbow and haul him into the apartment. "Hi," he said, mumbling as he briefly embraced Qui-Gon who remained stiff against him, still just holding that bottle out to one side.

"So this is, ahem, a housewarming gift."

Finally Anakin took the bottle from Qui-Gon but only gaze up at the man in puzzlement.

"I moved in a year ago," was all Anakin said.

There was something about how Qui-Gon was standing that prompted Anakin to unwrap the bottle. It was probably whiskey.

"Thank you," Anakin said, honestly touched. "Should we open it?"

"Ah… You don't have to."

"I mean, it won't go bad, right?" Anakin said, happy to have something to do. He didn't realize he'd be so nervous just to have Qui-Gon in his apartment. "I'm not sure I have the right glasses…"

"How many roommates do you have?" Qui-Gon asked, following him into the kitchen.

"Do you want ice?" Anakin asked.

"Straight is fine, and only give me a splash."

"Would you like a tour?" Anakin asked as he handed Qui-Gon a crystal tumbler, but taking in the slight widening of his eyes, he went on. "I'm not propositioning you."

"I know," Qui-Gon said. And then he, apparently a seasoned whiskey drinker, nearly choked on his whiskey. Nonetheless, the took a few steps after Anakin into the living room.

He seemed smaller in the high ceilinged room, kind of how he had at that pizza parlor when he'd tried to make clear to Anakin there was no romantic future for them. And yet here they were.

Each room they entered, Anakin couldn't help but notice the way Qui-Gon glanced around as though looking for something.

"I don't just leave my stuff leaving around, if that's what you're worried about."

Qui-Gon did stiffen a little at that.

"You really didn't watch anything on my page, did you?" Anakin said, and for perhaps the first time, he felt a little bad about blind-siding Qui-Gon like that. He watched Qui-Gon hold that glass with both hands, swirling the very last sip of liquor; his hands looked too large.

"It's a very nice place," Qui-Gon said.

"We like it," Anakin allowed. He knew it was a nice place. He knew most people his age couldn't even share something this large.

"None of your roommates are home?"

"Why?" Anakin's smile curled, he felt himself growing warm. "Do you want to proposition me?"

"No." Qui-Gon cleared his throat again. "Nothing so crude."

He placed his glass on the coffee table, a thick loop of hair curling over his shoulder as he did, and then came to stand in front of Anakin.

"I would like to kiss you, however," he said, and Anakin didn't trust himself to speak, he just nodded. Just like that, cool fingers touched his jaw, there was a slight rasp of beard hair, and just the briefest press of lips to the side of his mouth. "Thank you for inviting me over."

And as suddenly as it had happened, Qui-Gon was withdrawing.

"Was that all?" Anakin asked. "Quick tour, barely a sip of whiskey and you're gonna go?"

Qui-Gon didn't move, which meant he didn't withdraw further at least.

With a sigh, Anakin plonked his drink down on the ledge beside him and grabbed Qui-Gon's shirt with both hands, immediately feeling Qui-Gon embrace him, and raised himself up to kiss him properly. He wasn't so stiff now, just slow. This time, when Anakin pulled back, Qui-Gon followed, kissing him again. Anakin wrapped an arm around Qui-Gon's neck. The whiskey tasted so much better off his tongue, warm and honey-sweet.

#star wars #quiani #domaystic2023 #dreamy does fic #day1 #alcohol tw #quiani modern au #dreamy does domaystic #domestic fic #star wars fic #first kiss

[gucciyae]

Palimar

Hard feet against cold earthen floors. The smell of jaggery-sweetened vorn being stirred slowly in a dimly lit kitchen. Crows swoop down to claim the leftovers of last night’s kori-rotti. A cool breeze from the west sets a gentle tempo for the dancing wildgrass. I march forward. 

Opa begins his seemingly endless chant, “Left, left, left-right-left. Left, left, left-right-left.”  Our straightened legs lead the way, arms swinging in unison. Summers at Palimar usually followed the same rhythm.

Located in the Udupi district of Karnataka, visits to my ancestral home have become my favourite summer tradition. As the years went on and the family grew larger, so did the sound of crackling firewood heating our baths for the evening, the pat-pat-pat of marching feet against rough concrete, and the roaring laughter of my cousins running through the hallways.

Our visits begin early in the morning, bellies filled with a helping of dosa and chai, we make our way onboard an express bus. If we get lucky, all three of us cousins would sit in the same row. Alas, the Sunday crowd warrants a narrow seat by the bus driver, one that my cousin sister–  Anushka and I squeeze ourselves into.

Each stop is marked by the bus conductor's shouted reminders, followed by an organized chaos of travellers moving in and out of the metal box on wheels. After all these years, Anushka, Aarav and I have learned to sleep through the blaring bus horns, which explains our shock and excitement upon reaching the Padubidri bus stand so soon.

It doesn't take too long for Oma to hail an auto rickshaw, directing the driver with such practiced ease, she rivals a modern day GPS. To an ordinary traveller, the entirety of Palimar might seem to be composed of the same visual elements; local shrubbery, roads that twist and turn into infinity, and the occasional clay house. However, to those of us who pay attention to her little details, the ancestral house leads us onward by the sweet smell of young coconut growing on trees, and the sound of the crashing waves of her backwaters.

The auto rickshaw stops a few paces away from a one story house, cracked maroon and blue paint coats the clay walls, unruly weeds run wild throughout her front yard, and the concrete pavement has turned algal. By the time my grandparents moved away, we were left with no farm animals to herd. However, this does not stop Anushka from her annual attempts to domesticate the stray dogs of Palimar.

We continue towards the house, our bodies coated in a thin layer of sweat from the summer heat, and set down our plastic bags filled with water bottles and steel tumblers. 

“Mom, did you carry a bottle of Thums Up?” Aarav drones, dragging out each syllable in a childish lilt. Before his mother has a chance to answer, Oma returns to the verandah holding young coconuts, ushering us to pick some more from the base of the surrounding coconut trees. And so begins a competition of speed, strength, and differentiation among me and my cousins.

Covered in sticks, mud, and the occasional beetle, the three of us scurry back to the concrete pavement, careful not to drop our hard-earned treasures. 

Now, here comes my favourite part of the summer tradition, hacking open of the coconuts. Opa walks out to the verandah bearing a koiti, and reaches for the pile of coconuts laid on the ground. We all hold our breaths as Opa makes the first strike, exhaling as a thick piece of husk is chopped off. I've always been in awe of his precision, lean hands grip the coconut with the same firmness as his voice. The steel tumblers that were packed in plastic bags are now being passed around, and my father pours out the translucent fluid into each vessel.

As a kid, I found the lactonic notes from young coconut water quite repulsive. I cannot tell you when it was exactly, but as our visits to Palimar grew less frequent, my longing for the cold and nourishing elixir grew fonder. A stroll along Padubidri beach takes me back to my summers of the 2010s, though, my memories have started to blur together— dark smoke flowing out of the chimney before our evening baths, the chicken coop and the incessant clucking of its residents, my plastic swing attached to the bedroom door frame, and Aunty Kalyani along with her cow– which she milked every evening during her visits.

Twilight draws in, a symphony of riverside cicadas makes itself known to us, and the husks of tender coconut have piled up to my height. A heaviness sets into our limbs as we move to pack away the used tumblers, and the air carries the aroma of coconut oil used to prepare the neighbour’s supper. Reluctantly, Opa makes his way down from the verandah, leading us back to the bus stand. All is quiet, for everyone is musing the very same idea– another afternoon at the Palimar house.

I wait another year.

#first post on here! hope you all like :D #this piece is dedicated to my Opa- my late grandfather who passed earlier this year #i miss him a lot and i hope he likes this :) #writerscommunity #writing #writeblr #writerscorner #writers on tumblr #some translations for readers! #oma- german for grandma #opa- german for grandpa #vorn- a sweet dish made by slow cooking pulses/rice in milk and aromatics #kori-rotti: red-chili and coconut milk based chicken curry and crisp wafers made from rice batter #koiti: billhook machete used by farmers to cut crop

[sobeautifullyobsessed]

Victorian Sherlock is so delicious 😩 you're so right in saying he's the dilfiest sherlock because yes 😩🤌 wanna climb in his lap and mess those slicked back strands...

Babe- I awoke from my sleep and jumped on tumblr and saw your thirst and now I simply cannot resist sharing something from deep in the Draft of my one Victorianlock slow burn WIP Burn Bright, That Brief Candle. Because Benedict's Victorian Sherlock is the apex DILF, the one that other DILFs aspire to be.😏🥵

...it would be best for both of them to see Tessa safely tucked away in Ealing. She would rise tomorrow and get on with her life, secure in the knowledge that both Stonewell brothers no longer posed a threat. And Sherlock would get on with his, free of the delicious distraction she presented now, so very close at hand. He set his empty tumbler upon the matching cut glass tray, determined to bring his plan to swift fruition.  “I think it’s time I see you to your rooms, Miss DeMauro.  Surely you are worn and ready for rest after such a trying ordeal.” He stepped towards her, offering his hand to help her rise from Watson’s chair. 

Tessa shook her head and gazed up at him, braving a surprising reply, “I’d rather stay here, if it’s all the same to you.” Sherlock remained silent, staying judgement for the moment, so that she continued, “It’s safer here…I feel…” she looked to the empty fireplace, hands demurely folded in her lap, then turned to him again, “I feel safer here…with you.” 

How unwise, he thought, searching her face for any sign she actually understood that he was no hero, and wondering if he should tell her so; woefully unwise--for if she knew the thoughts that he was currently having, she would realize that some part of her safety was at hazard in his company after all.

As though in silent, damning testament, Sherlock found himself unwillingly training his eyes on the little scab at the edge of the hollow of her throat. That tiny scab which had formed from the scarlet drops of her blood where Stonewell had held the point of his knife in those crucial final moments before he’d been able to subdue the filthy cur. What would she think if she knew he was longing to press his lips upon it, not to kiss, but to suck hard enough on her tender flesh so as to leave his own mark there? Would she feel safe with him then? 

Despite the heady feel of such blatant wanting, he strove to sound as detached as he normally did, “I assure you, Miss DeMauro, you are no safer here with me than you were an hour ago, a hostage to the fate Stonewall intended for you.” He paused, calculating the effect his words would have upon her. “Nor with any other brute who might seek to take advantage of you, at your most vulnerable; our sex is not so stalwart as to be trusted in the presence of so,” he paused again, considering how much of his own weakness he might reveal, “…alluring a temptation.”

Tessa raised her chin regally, taking up the gauntlet he had cast her way, “Temptation, Mr. Holmes?”  She breathed deeply, seeking his true measure while asking him, “Do you really find me so?”

“I do, Madame.” If she would have the truth, then he would deliver it in full, “Much to my continuing consternation.”

She held his gaze, seeming to study him as he had just done to her, considering the weight of his words.  A pretty blush had risen in her cheeks, pleasing Sherlock—for knew he was the cause.  He let himself imagine how warm her flushed skin would be were he to cup his palm against her cheek—or better still, brush his lips there. Such a potent thought, born of potent desire…but could she read that on his face? 

And surely she did, for the corners of her mouth quirked up into a small, satisfied smile, as she asserted, “Still—I prefer to stay.”  Tessa reached for and removed her hatpins, laying them upon the side table, and followed swiftly with her hat, sighing her disclaimer, “That is, if you will have me.”

He allowed himself a momentary of ghost of a smile, his answer far more dispassionate than he actually felt, “Suit yourself then.”  He resisted every inclination he had to move closer to her, waiting to see if she would act on the intent he read in her eyes.

Tessa rose smoothly from her place, laying her reticule behind her on the chair cushion, regarding him with knowing appraisal—and his stomach gave a little lurch.  Anticipation.  That’s what he was feeling.  Anticipation as his cool brain tried to decipher the motive behind her movements—while his every manly instinct declared for certain her true reasons.

She stood before him, inches away, close enough now for him to see that those signs he’d taken earlier, as indicators of distress, were actually the clues to her own mounting desire.  She laid one hand upon his lapel, voice grown husky and low, crossing the invisible line of propriety without hesitation, “My good master, William Shakespeare, once called our lives a brief candle.  Compared us to ‘a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.’ ”  Sherlock remained motionless, focused on her lips and the timbre of her voice, controlling his breathing as best he could, mesmerized by the soft spell she was weaving.  She slid her hand beneath his lapel, gliding it slowly up to nest her fingertips in his hairline, resting her palm on the nape of his neck.  The sensation was…electric.   “I never grasped how true that bit of poetry was until this evening, Mr. Holmes.  Do you understand what I mean?”

Sherlock placed his hand on the back of hers, trapping it against his neck, then laced his fingers through hers.  “I do, Miss DeMauro—of that human frailty, I am ever aware.  My work makes such understanding inescapable.”

“Then surely you can understand the need I feel right now?”

“Need, Miss DeMauro?”

“Need, Mr. Holmes.  An overwhelming need to…reaffirm…life, if you will.   To drink its fullest, deepest, truest, with no regrets.  Have you ever known such a need yourself?”

“Indeed, I have, Miss DeMauro.”  He noted—as his purity of reason began to give way to more corporeal demands--that the pace of his breathing had fallen into sync with hers, “And no more so than at this very moment.”

“Then would you take have of me, good Sir, that which I so willingly offer?”

“If this is your true will, lady, then I will take all that you offer.  But know as we begin:  I do not promise poetry, or a settled hearth, or even some vague future for us sometime down the road.  If I take you, your eyes must be fully open to these hard facts.”  Reading her answer in her widened eyes and the measure of respiration, Sherlock knew she had already accepted his terms, no words needed.  He dragged her hand around to press his mouth against the base of her thumb, hot breath dampening her skin, while teasing the plumpness of his lower lip upon it. 

“Oh my,” she whispered, nearly breathless.  Tessa appeared dazed, blinking slowly—but came back to herself soon enough.  She took his other hand, her eyes still locked on his, “You have such elegant hands, Mr. Holmes; the hands of an artist.  I can imagine the beauty of the music you must make.”  She brought his hand close to her face, studying it intently, “But they’re strong, too.  Protective.  Even dangerous, when the need arises.”  Slowly, she kissed the center of his palm, then looked up at him from half-lidded eyes, “I’ve wondered at times what it would be like to be touched by such hands.  Your hands, Mr. Holmes.  The hands that kept me from terrible harm, this very night.”

“Miss DeMauro…” he began, needing to issue one last caution, although she kept him from finishing his thought.

“It’s Tessa, please,” she whispered, tilting her head back while offering up her lips, fearless in revealing her desires, “I’ve been aching so to hear you say my name.

“Tessa,” he hummed back, his mouth grown dry, his every sense heightened by the need she had awakened in him.  Sherlock grasped her shoulders brusquely, finally crushing her against him, to growl her name against her ear, inhaling the honey scent of her hair, while she twined her arms around his neck. “Tessa,” he rumbled against the softness of her cheek, seeking her mouth, and then capturing her sweet and all too willing lips, his own made rough and ravenous from years of denying the basic, human need for such intimate contact... 

...and then...

…this soft, winsome woman sleeping in his arms--oh how he had taken her, giving her no quarter! Desperately at times--replaying certain moments in his mind now, he realized he should be ashamed; but no, for she had sought no quarter, allowing his hunger a latitude that was the exact answer to his need he’d taken her in a merciless fury, and each time, each way that he had, Tessa had opened to him, giving herself over without hesitation. Oh yes; for she had clung to him, mewling softly beneath him when he went a little rough, clinging hard as he rode her--even as her own desire waxed, meeting his mouth and skin with fierce and probing kisses of her own.  She’d let her hands explore his flesh in ways that told him she knew the art of pleasing a lover; that insight had made him feel shockingly possessive, driving him to work her in a way that he hoped would erase any deep-rooted memories of such lovers from her mind, greedy to supplant them from the pantheon of her past, so to leave her full and wanting only him.

And when her passion rose, mixing, mingling, melding with his own--just as the slickness of their sweat-soaked skin combined when they moved in perfect, delicious rhythm--she gave him throaty, satisfied moans that spurred him further, harder, relentlessly seeking an unattainable depth.  Each time he’d wrung from her those climaxes, she had gasped his name, cried out his name, shouted it elementally while she bucked beneath him, her body taut in those final throes--her fingers digging hard into his skin as she strove to pull him deeper, or entangled tightly in his hair and holding on as though it were the only anchor keeping her from combusting from their merged heat.  And when he came?  Hot white light filled his mind, blessedly blotting out all thought for that span of time, his biological urges completely in control of the machine he had trained his body to become; the resulting ecstasy so intense, it transmuted the baseness of such primal coupling to the level of divine. 

Afterwards—each time afterwards—panting hotly from their shared release, stretching against him as those merciful hormones worked their will on her, she peppered his face, neck, torso, with sweet-breathed kisses, an easy and unasked for absolution for however rough and demanding his lovemaking had been.  Sweet Tessa, delectable Tessa, fierce little Tessa—and dare he believe it, his Tessa.  In his arms, in his bed, and in his blood now, coursing thoroughly through his veins—more providentially fulfilling than any seven percent solution he had ever concocted.

...and later...  

…and so their affair continued, mostly hidden from the world. Sondra, Tessa’s sole confidant, their wise, industrious go-between. Tessa never questioned the secrecy that he insisted upon, instead taking from it an element of extra excitement—the danger of discovery a heady aphrodisiac.  As if they actually needed that.  And there was, after all, her reputation to consider.

Sherlock had her in numerous locations, and no hour of the day or night was sacrosanct.  He took fucked her fast and furiously when their time was short, and public discovery was a hairsbreadth away; but he loved her long and luxuriously when their privacy was ensured.  On those occasions his lovemaking was painstaking and solely dedicated to supplying Tessa with layer upon layer of pleasure, bringing her to heights he knew she’d never experienced before.  In his heart of hearts, Sherlock recognized it was his way of marking her as his own for life—for he knew their ongoing liaison had no future beyond the here and now.  Wherever her path would take her in the world, he desired no man fulfill and please Tessa as he had done, and that even with the width of an ocean or two between them, there would remain an invisible line of connection, making her his for life...    

#*hoping so hard that people will read this* #bakerstreethound #my writing #Burn Bright That Brief Candle #Victorianlock #Benedict's Sherlock #all that restrained power & passion beneath layers of stiff victorian finery #passion #lust #Sherlock Holmes #BBC Sherlock #sherlock holmes x ofc #sherlock holmes x tessa demauro #sherlock holmes fan fiction #sherlock holmes fanfiction #victorianlock #the DILFIEST Sherlock #Benedict Cumberbatch #My Muse #My Constant Muse #patron saint of sinfully minded women #sherlock holmes smut