#that's another one to add to the best pound it list

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

Fake boyfriend p3-

pairings - soft!rafe! X virginfem!reader

summary - you lie to your befriend that you have a boyfriend.

warnings - alcohol, language, mention of touching.

“So y/n, favorite position?” Kelsie questions, your body stiffens above Rafe. His hand squeezes your thigh, you screwed your face up at her. Her eyes were glassy and eyelids half closed, she was wasted. If she had been sober she would never have asked a personal question like that in a game. She would have asked you the details in private.

“Come on, don't be shy!”

All eyes are on you awaiting your answer, your skin was going to be a permanent shade of red if people kept embarrassing you. Clearing the back of your throat. “I-”

The words don’t seem to form, everyone’s still staring at you causing your heart to pound in your chest. “My girl is a lady, she doesn’t like to disclose personal information… but for the sake of the game and to keep you guys quiet she really loves to ride me”.

You have to bite your tongue to stop the choking sound formulating in the back of your throat, your skin covered in goosebumps at the idea of sitting on Rafe’s cock. Why were you suddenly so comfortable with the idea of sex? Subconsciously your body moved against him when the tingles spread from your toes to your pussy. Kelsie’s eyes are wide and she lets out a squeal. “Goddamn! Bestie you're holding out on details!”.

You shook your head, letting out a forced laugh. You were letting this fake boyfriend thing go too far, you didn’t want to lie to her about sex. Rafe’s hands tighten around your hips to stop you from moving. “You keep moving and we are going to have a problem” he whispered into your ear, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. Your body straightens up against him, did he mean what you thought he meant? Was you moving against him causing him to get an erection?

Everyone turns to Topper and waits for him to choose truth or dare. You're not even sure why you were playing the game, you’d not played it since grade 8 where you got dared to kiss Jacob the popular boy. It was another embarrassing moment to add to the list of embarrassing moments.

Rafe clears his throat, turning your head slightly to look down at him. “Sorry, I’m not sure if you wanted me to say anything”.

“Oh no, thank you for saving me. I um- I wouldn’t have known what to say anyway since you know… I’m a virgin” you whisper, you can feel his heartbeat pick up against your chest. “I see” is all he says and you both avert your attention back to the game happening in front of you.

“Rafe’s turn!” Kelsie squeals, she’s handing everyone shots which you politely decline only to get an evil glare from your best friend. “Dare”.

“I dare you to make out with y/n”

“Kelsie, they are dating remember” Sam laughs, shaking her head at your best friend. “So? My bestie finally has a boyfriend. I wanna see her kiss him again”.

The rhythm of your heart had only just calmed, picking up a few notches you could heart it in your eardrums, the same tingles spread through you when you feel him around move under you, angling both your bodies to look at one another.

You're more nervous than the night before, this time you didn’t have liquid courage. This time you were going to kiss him completely sober, you were also sure he was sober so he would remember what a terrible kisser you were.

His lips turn up into a smile, the creases around his mouth have you feeling strange. His thumb and forefinger reach up to hold your chin, angling your face up slightly. Your breathing is heavy, chest rising and falling faster than usual. His eyes search your face for a sign of discomfort, only to be met by approval. His thumb swipes over your bottom lip pulling it slightly away from your lips, your eyes flutter closed as his lips dust over yours.

You're pushing your body into his, deepening the kiss before he can. His hand holds you by the jaw, lips moving roughly against each other. His tongue slips between your lips and his hands are pulling at your waist, trying to bring you as close to him as possible. Your legs have a mind of their own, moving to straddle his lap.

You're both so caught up in the kiss you forget you're playing some childish game, neither of you hearing your friends behind you who coughed and called your names. They give up after a few tries and end up leaving the room, making their way to the pool.

You're running out of breath and pull away, foreheads pressing against each other. Your breath fans over his lips as you calm your racing heart, you're brought back to reality when you hear a loud splash. Turning away from Rafe to see no one was in the room anymore.

“Sorry… I” you begin to say but he cuts you off by pressing his finger to your lips. The urge to suck his finger is strong, you have to grind your teeth to stop you from doing so. “Why are you apologizing”.

“I don’t know…”

“Have you ever kissed someone like that before?” He questions, his finger has dropped from your lips now. Both hands lay upon your thighs as you still straddled him, very aware of the hard lump pressing against your core. “No”.

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah oh yeah definitely”

He nods his head, another small smirk on his lips. “Can I ask you a personal question?”.

“Sure” he looks at you for a moment and contemplates what he’s going to ask, his eyes searching your face once again. “Is there a reason you're a virgin? I mean you're a beautiful girl, it can’t be anything to do with your looks”.

Your cheeks flush pink again, moving your body off him and onto the seat beside him. His own body seems to follow you for a movement, his back lifting from the chair but he quickly settles back down.

“No real reason, I just have never felt comfortable with someone. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a horny 22 year old but I’m not going to pick someone up at a party. I need to feel comfortable and I went to a girl high school and when I move into uni, my parents were into me about finishing with the highest grades… I didn’t get a proper childhood”.

He nods his head in understanding, being a virgin has never made you feel embarrassed up until Kelsie wouldn’t shut up about it infront of people. It was your body and decision, no one has ever made you feel comfortable enough to get naked and go further than kissing and even then the people you had kissed before Rafe never sent shivers down your spine. Rafe had you feeling a different way, you were embarrassingly wet for him the moment your eyes caught his and you didn’t care, you enjoyed feeling this way.

“Did you want to go for a swim?”

“Let’s go”

You follow him out of the house and down the stairs into the garden, you're surprised he knows where he is going but assume he must have snooped while you were asleep. Your eyes are trained on his chest as he takes his shirt off, his abs are rock hard. You have a sudden urge to run your hands down them but you stop yourself.

“Wait I need my swimsuit”

Before he can respond, you're bounding up the stairs again, forcing your way through your bedroom and rummaging in your drawers. You didn’t own anything sexy, but you didn’t care any swim suit made your boobs looked good.

You change quickly and race back outside, Rafe still stood in the same place but with a beer this time. He nods at you as you walk back down the stairs, as soon as you're at his side he’s wrapping his arm around your shoulder walking the two of you to the pool.

Another shiver runs down your spine, his hands instinctively rub up and down them to keep you warm. You give him a soft smile and let him walk you to the edge of the pool.

Music drowns everything out, you watch closely at your best friend who floats on her back in silence. Though she can sense your near she pushes herself up from the water and locks eyes with you.

“Y/n!” Your best friend screams, you give Rafe a smile and race around the pool. Jumping into the water in front of her, she wraps her around around you and straddles your waist. “I’m having the best time, are you having the best time?”

“Yeah babe of course!”

The two of you chat and float around, swimming over to your other friends and then playing a game of Marco Polo. You swim over to the side away from everyone to catch your breath, head leaning against the concrete, Rafe joins you momentarily after.

“It’s funny how we literally just met but everyone seems to be acting like we’ve been friends for years” he chuckles softly, you straighten up and look at how everyone’s just doing there thing, he drops his arm on the cement behind your shoulders, even though he had been in the water you can still smell the cologne on him.

“Well I’ve known who you are since you arrived, everyone knows who you are. You're just more reserved and stick to your friends” he admits, he looks down at you for a brief moment and then back at the water.

“Oh”

He was right, you moved here just before your 20th birthday. Your parents brought you a house on the island for your birthday, and said they lined up for a transfer with your degree. They wanted you to get away from home, uni had been hard and your motivation had been lacking.

Outer banks was only a 4 hours car ride from home, you didn’t really have a choice in the matter. But you didn’t really care because you didn’t have many friends at home anyway.

“But nothing wrong with sticking with your friends, I stick with mine”

You nod in understanding and leaning back, you can feel his bicep on your shoulder blades. Goosebumps litter your skin, you can feel your nipples harden against the material of your swimsuit. “Cold?”

Your face blushed a deep red, thankfully the night sky hid it. You could feel his eyes on you for a moment and then he pulled you away from the seat, his big hands holding your thighs and wrapping them around his waist. His arms hugged you close, his mouth pressed to your collarbone. “Better?”

You nod frantically, the goosebumps still visible but the heat from his body warmed you from the inside out. You were so shamefully wet right now, you could feel his abs against your pussy. Tightening your legs around him instinctively. “You okay?”

“Mhm” you breathe, you let him walk you both up and down the length of the pool. Everyone shouts and plays games around you but it feels like it’s only the two of you in the pool. “Get a room!” Topper shouts out, everyone laughs in the response.

“Let’s give them a show”

You nod your head eagerly, your lips had been longing to feel his against yours since he wrapped your legs around him.

He’s hungrily kissing your lips, slipping his tongue between your open mouth. Shamefully the heels of your feel dig into his lower back, pressing your cunt against his abs tighter chasing some sort of pressure.

His hands are timidly grabbing your ass cheeks and your bucking your hips against him. “Sorry” you squeak, his lips trail down your neck.

“Gross!” Everyone shouts but they turn back to their game, leaving you both in your own little world. He’s walking you until your back is pressed to the wall of the pool. “Rafe”

“Sorry sorry” he quickly says moving away from you but you're quick to stop him, his eyes shoot down to yours as you pull him back. “Don’t apologize”

He nods and keeps his hands underneath your thighs, you wiggle down a little and grind your hips into his hardening cock. “What are- what do you need?”

“I don’t know”

His lips are on yours again, your rolling your hips against his again. “Have you ever touched yourself?”

You nod your head, just because you were a virgin didn’t mean you didn’t chase that high. You were a believer of relieving your stress every chance you got, whether that be your fingers or a vibrator.

“Do you want- do you want me to touch you?”

“Please”

Part four

Tag list - @rafemotherfuckingcameron @rafegirly @prentissesredtanktop @maybankslover @vigilanteshitposting @drewstarkeyslut @emotionsmgcbabe @ijustwanttoreadlols @uraesthete @drewstarkeyswifehoe @aysha4life

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe x you #rafe x oc #rafe x reader #rafe x y/n #rafe x female!mc #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x smut #drew starkey smut #drew starkey x reader #outerbanks smut #drew starkey #outerbanks fic #outerbanks x reader #drew x you #drew x reader #drew smut

[drchucktingle]

Where is the best place to preorder Bury Your Gays? What is of most benefit to you?

i know other types of media have given the trot of preorders a bad way, but for publishing books i cannot even begin to tell you buckaroos HOW IMPORTANT PREORDERS ARE WHEN SUPPORTING AUTHORS YOU CARE ABOUT. i mean HECK preorders are so important i even wrote three dang tinglers about it

basically preorders are what publishers use to determine how much financial backing they will give a book for advertising and book tours and all that, but that is only PART of this way. BOOK STORES also use a preorder equation to determine how much shelf space to give a book. your preorder does not just mean YOU get a book for yourself, but basically means you are making room for someone ELSE to get the book in a store by putting another copy on a shelf

that is why it is better to put in a preorder instead of just saying 'oh i will just remember to buy myself a copy on the day it comes out'

LASTLY preorders are how books get onto bestseller lists because all the orders leading up to your book release date COUNT AS FIRST WEEK SALES. something like new york times bestseller list is close to impossible trot without preorders

think of it like a handsome surfing bigfoot trying to ride a wave. it is one thing to actually ride on the wave, but what matters most is that initial moment when you GET UP THERE and actually have the strength to pull yourself up when the wave starts. PREORDERS are the climbing up part

NOW LETS GET DOWN TO YOUR SPECIFIC QUESTION

first of all ANY preorder is great. what matters most as far as bestseller lists is actually FORMAT. the best thing you can order for an author is not ebook or audiobook, it is HARDCOVER. personally i am an audiobook buckaroo myself so please understand you should order whatever format you want, but technically speaking the answer is HARDCOVER

next is WHERE do you order. this answer is pretty dang cool actually. the best place to order for the sake of author is your LOCAL INDIE BOOKSTORE. if you MUST order at a big timer website that is fine, but many bestseller lists are weighted towards indie bookstores

so to sum it up. the technical BEST WAY to support chuck with 'bury your gays' is to PREORDER a HARDCOVER from an INDIE BOOKSTORE.

thank you for your question but before you go trotting along i would like to add one more thing

all art is important. when we create things they serve as stepping stones for us to move along our journey as artists and creators on this timeline. i have so much love for every book i have made, from POUNDED IN THE BUTT BY MY OWN BUTT to CAMP DAMASCUS

but i have to say with deep sincerity in my way, BURY YOUR GAYS is something special. i absolutely believe that if you care about fandom, or creation, or love, or fanfiction, or supernatural, or the future of media, or asexual buckaroos, or gay buckaroos, or bi buckaroos or any queer buckaroos, you will love this book. i promise buckaroo

it is the best thing i have ever written, and i think it is going to bend this timeline in incredible ways. i would like you to trot with me into the future, since we have already trotted this far together. i cannot say this enough: this one is special, and the timelines we create from here are going to make the whole dang world look up in surprise and say 'where the heck did that come from?'

so if you are even CONSIDERING preordering, take a moment a do it.

if you are one of those buckaroos who says 'chuck tingle is my favorite author ive never read' then now is your moment

lets trot buckaroos. thank you for reading and thank you for constantly proving to me that love is real

preorder BURY YOUR GAYS here

#love is real #bury your gays #buckaroo lifestyle

[kcrossvine-art]

Heya folks! Its been a bit, food insecurity is a bitch, but today on the quest of cooking our way through Lord of the Rings we're gonna be making a dish exclusively mentioned in the 2007 MMO-

We will be making a Rohan Pasty! 

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes into a Rohans Pasty?” YOU MIGHT ASKBasics. Meat n potatoes of your meat-in-dough food. .

All-purpose flour

Salt

Baking powder

Vegetable oil

Olive oil

Ground beef

Garlic salt

Ground cumin

Chili powder

Dried oregano

Waxy potato

Garlic

White onion

Egg

"A delicious local pastry filled with beef and potatoes."- LOTRO Rohan is a kingdom of humans in middle-earth, and the description point towards a cornish pasty (yes, pasty not pastry). Oddly enough the image is more of an empanada but you win some you lose some. This heritage informs much of the shape and ingredients of this dish, however we're opting to cook most of the ingredients before adding them in, contrary to going in raw as a cornish pasty calls for. I chose to deviate here because cooking beforehand allows more seasoning to be crammed in. The english hate seasoning.

AND, “what does a Rohans Pasty taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASK

Tastes like the best pot pie youve had, less soggy

Excellent for an after-rugby/martial arts/soccer dinner

The potatoes are foundational

Despite needing the least work

Pasta salad (cucumber, olives, pepperocini) would pair well as a side

And would also pair well with beer

This meal bears the gold star sticker of not having any major issues! Hooray! Maybe its increased comfortability in the kitchen, or maybe its because of how very simple this one is. Chopped roasted bell pepper might be good in the filling in the future.

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

Get the dough ready ahead of time- its mentioned in the recipe below but i also wanted to say a foreword here that it needs to sit in the fridge for a few hours. Just so ya dont get everything out and realise itd take too long for dinner tonight. Speaking of dough, i feel like it could have more flavor added to it. Its bland and although its not part of the tradition of the meal its based off of, cornish meat pasty, it might be nice to add some spices like cumin or black pepper to the flour. 

The meal reheats perfect- wrap in papertowl and put it in the microwave for 30 seconds per pasty.

When picking your potatoes make sure theyre "new" potatoes (baby ones) or whichever potato with the least amount of starch you can get. Its important for it to cook inside the pasty that it not have too much lest it get Mushy Bad.

Another thing about its real-life inspo; Cornish pastys were workers food, stuff you could carry into the mines, stuff thatd reheat well. You could hold the crust with your dirty hands and throw it away once you ate the rest. I always feel partial to these foods. Although I'd still eat the dirty crust.

This recipe earns a solid 8/10 (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) 

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Dough Ingredients:

370g all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon baking powder

74g vegetable oil

240g warm water

Filling Ingredients:

2 tablespoons(ish) olive oil

1 pound ground beef

2 tablespoons tomato paste

Garlic salt to taste

Ground cumin to taste

Chili powder to taste

Dried oregano to taste

5 cloves garlic, minced

1 white onion, diced

Method:

Combine flour, salt and baking powder.

Add oil and water into mixer with dough hook running at medium speed. Mix for 1 minute, stopping several times to scrape the sides of the bowl.

When mixture comes together and begins to form a ball, decrease mixing speed to low. Continue to mix just until dough is smooth.

Take the dough ball, safely wrap it, and transfer to fridge. Let sit for at minimum 2 hours.

For the meat, get a large skillet, and add some olive oil over medium heat. Add the ground beef and garlic salt, cook until the beef is cooked completely.

Drain the beef and set aside.

In the same pan, add the garlic, onions, cumin, chili powder, oregano, and salt.

Cook until the onions are softened but not brown, 10 to 15 minutes. Re-add the beef and cook over low heat for about 5 more minutes.

Back to the dough, transfer dough from fridge to well-floured work surface. Roll into log and divide into 10 equal portions. 

Preheat oven to 350f.

Form each piece into a ball and flatten each with a rolling pin.

Add a layer of diced potatos down the middle of the pastys. Add the meat filling to each. Fold the sides of the dough up to seal on top in the middle.

Gently turn the pasty on its side and crimp the edge, alternating a braid pattern. Use knife to cut an "X" shaped slit in the top. Repeat for each pasty.

Place the pastys on a greased baking sheet. Lightly coat each pasty with an eggwash using a basting brush.

Cook for about 50 minutes, or until golden brown, and let cool!

#cross cooks lotr #lotro #the hobbit #lord of the rings #food recipe

[lxclerc]

𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

summary: when a world famous singer's reputation takes a hit, she never expects to meet a man determined to stay with her through it all. pairing: charles leclerc x reader warning: none, fluff note: part 1 of the reputation series. let me know if you want to be part of the tag list!

masterlist

you should take it as a compliment that i got drunk and made fun of the way you talk

your head is absolutely pounding and you’re sure that someone must be attempting to crack your skull open, but the arms wrapped around your waist reminds you exactly why you’ve spent most of the night downing shots after shots. ‘

you needed the alcohol to distract you from walking over to the other side of the room where he stood – bright green eyes and a brighter laugh that caught your attention the moment you walked in. or maybe you needed the alcohol to give you the courage to walk over to him. 

people surrounded him and you’d seen a few ask to take a picture with him, requests you yourself have been getting the entire night but had to politely decline with an offer to buy them a drink instead. this man is gracious though, definitely not as patient as you – he smiles for every picture, chats with anyone that talks to him. 

he must be someone, you thought. someone important, someone that matters. and someone that you’re not likely to forget anytime soon and so you down a shot.  

“charles leclerc,” your friend says, having watched you watch him all night. “formula 1 driver.” 

you feel a little bit caught but you’re drunk enough not to care as you turn to him again. he’s magnetic, a type of beautiful that had people turning. he definitely had you turning.

“let’s go over to them,” your friend says, already looping her arm with yours and pulling to the group before you could respond. you see some of their eyes widening as you approach, you see him turning to you, green eyes filled with recognition as he realized who you were. you almost wish you’d brought a bottle over with you.

“y/n,” one of his friends say, pulling your attention away from the driver. you’re almost thankful, being so close to him now feels a little overwhelming. “i’m a big fan.”

you feel him watching you and so you grin. you try to ignore the small voice in your head grimacing. it’s a wonder you still have fans nowadays. after the massive fall your reputation had taken, you’re a little bit surprised your friends had managed to drag you out of your apartment. 

“thank you,” you say, hoping you aren’t slurring. 

you’re not exactly sure how it happened but somehow, the rest of your friends ended up on their table too, the two groups merging together seamlessly as the music grew louder and the alcohol keeps flowing. you’ve talked to nearly all of them, laughing and sharing stories and joking around as though you’ve been best friends for decades.

all except him, of course. he remains in your line of vision and you feel his stare on you the entire night but you refuse to look. it’s a horrible idea, your reputation’s never been worse, you remind yourself. getting tangled up with another man to add to your long list of scandals might just have your media team resign on the spot. 

of course that was up until he shattered whatever self control you had left as his hand wandered to your waist. it wasn’t anything with purpose, barely even a touch just something to get your attention but goddamn this man needed to think about the consequence of touching you in dark rooms.

“are you avoiding me?” he jokes and before you knew it, you’re face to face and you can smell the whiskey on ice mixing with his cologne. 

and he’s gorgeous – just too goddamn beautiful that it almost makes you mad. 

“your accent is funny,” you say and then you cringe. 

his eyebrows scrunch together. he definitely hadn’t expected those to be your first words to him.

“Vous préférez que je parle français ?” he says, the words rolling off his tongue like honey. Would you prefer that I speak French?

god truly has favorites because of course he speaks french. he can’t possibly be just beautiful. 

charles chuckles. “i speak italian too.”

oh. you hadn’t realized you said it out loud. “i didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

and then he laughed and you knew damn well he’s going to ruin all of your plans. 

you're so gorgeous i can't say anything to your face

and so here you were, head pounding and dealing with the world’s worst hangover but having whatever ridiculously expensive cologne charles leclerc uses clinging to your skin. 

you aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed to find yourself still wearing the sparkly dress you were wearing last night. and though charles’ shirt had disappeared to god knows where, the dark cargo pants he wore is still present. 

dimly, you remember your drunken slurring, arms wrapped around his neck. he was only a little less drunk than you were, but he’d mixed up french and italian with english sometime after you’d lightly pulled at the hair on the back of his head as you both attempted to dance to the beat. 

and as the sun began rising and both your friends had decidedly chose to call their own cabs, charles hadn’t even needed to ask you if you wanted to go to his hotel with him. he’d simply grabbed your hand and gently led you to his car. he doesn’t let go of your hand as he drives and not as you enter the elevator. even now as he sleeps and you’re cocooned within his arms, his hand is tightly entwined with yours. 

it feels a bit odd; waking up so intimately wound with someone knowing nothing sexual needed to happen first. it feels odd to be held knowing he expects nothing in return. pure intimacy booths excites you and frightens you.

“ne veut pas encore partir,” you hear him mutter as he shifts, burying his head deeper against your neck. his arms around you tightens as he pulls you flushed against his chest.   

you don’t know what to do with yourself, you can only be thankful that you aren’t facing him because god knows you’d end up stuttering and flushing being subjected to those green eyes. the man was far too gorgeous, it almost makes you mad.  you only hope he can't hear the way your heart is beating so furiously against your chest. 

“i have no idea what you just said,” you say.

“i said,” he mutters with a sigh. “i don’t want to go yet.” 

disappointment hits you like a hot brick. “do you have to?” 

he pulls his hand from under you, looking at his red richard mille watch. “i have to be on track before eleven.” 

right. you forgot he drove for a living. you heaved a sigh as you pulled yourself away from his hold, ignoring the way he groaned and the sudden chill as the air condition hit your bare arms. you pick up your phone, finally breaking the safe bubble you’ve both created. you can’t help but release another sigh at the messages sent by your publicist; all consisting of different articles showing pictures of you leaving the club, hand being pulled by charles with his head ducked. thankfully, his face is pretty hidden apart from a blurry side view with him turning towards you. 

you don’t want to drag charles into your bullshit more than you already have. 

charles finally stands, putting on his discarded shirt. “breakfast before i go maybe?” 

you couldn’t help but smile, putting your phone into your pocket as you return to your safe bubble. “yeah, i’d really like that.” 

taglist: @ricsaigaslec @dragon-of-winterfell @coffeehurricanes @rdtbattinson @privcherry7 @miniminescapist @sebsdaniel @strelcka @writing-about-current-obsessions @amsofftrack @lostinketterdam @bisexual-desi @cialovessirlewis @multilovebot @lovelynikol16 @troybolton-14 @ohthemissery @dr3lover @myescapefromthislife @sunf1owerrq @the6ccnsp6cyy @t-nd-rfoot

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x yn #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x yn #charles leclerc smut #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 one shot #charles leclerc one shot

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blurred Lines 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, power imbalance, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your boss takes an unpredictable turn.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: some more Nicky for the girlies.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Back to usual. 

You say goodbye to Joey with an especially clingy hug. She’ll be gone back to campus by the time you get home. Her short visits always leave you a bit sad.

You arrive at Nick’s place and let yourself in. The remnants of the prior day’s get together are still littered over the dining room table and throughout the front room. There’s more in the kitchen.

You gather the empty glasses and a few bottles with varying amounts of liquid still inside. You scrape plates into the pin and sweep napkins in after them. You fill the sink with warm soapy water to wash it all when you hear the soft but clumsy pad of feet on the stairs. They’re too light to be Nick.

You have the coffee brewing in anticipation of your boss’ hangover. The aroma wafts into the air as the machine clicks. A figure appears in the doorway and you turn to greet the woman in her sleek but wrinkled dress. This isn’t unexpected either.

“Good morning,” you greet her stunned eyes as she blanches.

“Um, I’m sorry, I was only–”

“Coffee?” You offer her as you open the cupboard, “look like you need it.”

“N-no, I… should go. Is there a Starbucks around here?” She croaks.

“No need, I can do lattes,” you offer, “he’s got this ridiculously expensive machine.”

“Er,” she looks down at the heels dangling from her hand then back to you, “sorry, are you… do you live…”

“I work for Mr. Fowler. Just the maid,” you assure her. Her assumption fills your chest with an unspent laugh. You’re far too old for Nick. Besides, the concept is ridiculous.

“Oh…” her single syllable dangles.

You pour her a cup and turn to offer it to her. Her mouth slants in a guilty smile. She shambles forward and accepts the mug.

“You take sugar, cream? Maybe some Advil?” You suggest.

“Oat milk? And yes please, my head is pounding.”

“Right, he has almond milk,” you open another cupboard and pluck out the ibuprofen, “or whole milk.”

“Almond is fine,” she accepts as you rattle the bottle.

“One or two, hon,” you ask as you approach her again.

“Two, please,” she inhales the scent of the coffee and sighs, rubbing her eye socket before extending her hand to take the tablet, “the whole bottle if I could.”

“Ugh, yeah, I don’t miss those days,” you hum and cap the bottle.

You put it away and go into the large fridge, taking out the carton of almond milk for the woman. You take it to her as she approaches the island to clink down the coffee. You watch as she adds the milk and takes a slender spoon from you to stir it in. She takes her first sip and moans before tossing back the pills.

“Coffee good?” You prompt proudly.

“Oh, yeah,” she looks up at you, “yeah, it’s great.”

“Took me a while to master the beast,” you point to the machine. “I finally got my ristretto down, too.”

She gives a nervous laugh and gulps again, wiping her lips with the back of her hand, “you’re nice… really nice. Why?”

You blink at her question. It makes you wonder, was Nick not nice? That’s not really any of your concern.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You shrug and turn to the full sink, “you’re a guest.” You plunge your hands in and scrub the porcelain, “plus, you kinda remind me of my daughter. I’d like someone to treat her nicely too.”

“Ah,” she accepts, “that’s really sweet.”

“It’s human, I hope,” you open up the dishwasher to slide in each plate.

“You really… didn’t have to make me coffee,” she murmurs.

You peek over at her as she stares into the depths. She seems sad but that might just be the hangover. You continue your work as you reply.

“It was already on. If you’re hungry–”

“Please, no, that’s okay,” she declines with a wave, “I think… I think I’ll just finish this and get an uber. Maybe go call my mom.”

“Well, you let me know if you need anything before you go,” you chime as you hook glasses into the top rack of the dishwasher.

You finish the dishes and grab a damp cloth to go wipe the table down. You stop by a few other surfaces to clear away rings from the finish and return to the kitchen. As you enter from the dining room, Nick appears in the other.

The woman faces him as she grabs her shoes, “hi.”

He growls and lumbers over to the coffee machine. He sees the mug waiting for him and peers into its empty body. You clutch the cloth in your hand as you watch his naked back tense. He wears nothing more than a pair of briefs. At most, you’ve seen him shirtless when he needs some stitches.

“More coffee?” You offer the woman.

“No, I should go,” she peeks at him nervously.

“Alright, well, you take care,” you bid her and take her cup.

“Thanks,” she says and skulks to the door, “bye, Nick.”

“Mmm,” he flicks his fingers at her as he pours himself a cup.

You narrow your eyes at his shoulder blades. That wasn’t very polite. Well, it isn’t your job to be his mother, even if it feels like it sometimes.

You put the almond milk away as he turns to lean in the corner of the counter. He presses the porcelain to his forehead and groans. You shake out the cloth over the sink and rinse it out.

“You have a daughter,” he states plainly. A question but not really.

“I do,” you answer evenly.

“I didn’t know that,” he says.

You shrug, “guess it never came up.”

"You’ve worked for me for three years…” he mutters.

“You never asked,” you say lightly, “it’s fine.”

He lowers the cup and slurps loudly. He swishes the coffee around before he swallows thickly.

“Your husband okay with you working twelves?”

You chuckle, “sir, really, it’s fine.”

His curiosity is not usual. You stick to the expected, the manageable. You don’t stray outside the lines. You’re friendly but you’re not overfamiliar. He always seemed to prefer that. He enjoyed talking about himself far more.

“You were busy yesterday,” he shifts his weight to one foot, his muscled chest rippling.

“I suppose as busy as you,” you roll in the racks of the dishwasher and add soap before closing it up.

“I… interrupted your plans?”

“Sir, it’s fine, I had a good day off and now I’m back,” you insist, “are there any other messes I need to worry about?”

He tilts his head and exhales deeply. His cheek dimples as he considers you. The cut on his head is exposed but not as bad as it was, though the bruise under his eyes has only gotten darker.

He scoffs as a smirk slants his lips, “sure. You could change my bed sheets.”

“Sure,” you accept breezily, repressing the glimmer of concern at the base of your skull. 

Something about his response seems trite, as if he means to insult you. You’re an adult, you’re less than shocked at his after hours play. By now, you’re quite used to it. He’s in his prime, he’s well off, and he’s handsome by anyone’s measure.

“You could try some witch hazel,” you touch your cheek then point at his, “for the bruising.”

“I can handle it,” he retorts and pushes himself away from the counter, “enough chattering. Get to work.”

🥃

You knock on the office door and wait for an answer. The little device you keep clipped to your belt is still buzzing with Nick’s demand. He calls to you from within and you enter.

“Sir?” You greet him.

“What took you so long?” He growls.

He’s in a foul mood. He has been all day. He can be gruff, you’re used to that, but today, he just seems prickly. His romp must not have been much fun. Come to think of it, his partner had been all too eager to flee.

You shake away the intrusive thoughts and clear your throat, “I was in the laundry room. Sorry.”

“My head is pounding,” he rubs his temples.

“Right, sir, I’ll bring you Advil and some water–”

“Don’t treat me like a child,” he snarls.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m sure I’m a lot older than your daughter, so cut it out.”

“I wasn’t– sir, I’m sorry.”

“Go, get the pills,” he shoos you, “and call Rhonda.”

You nod and leave him. Wow. You don’t think he’s ever spoken to you like that. The mention of Joey also puts you off. Why is he so concerned? Most people could look at you and assume you have a kid or too. At your age, with your hips…

You go downstairs to retrieve the Advil and a tall glass of water. You climb back upstairs and follow the airy hall down to your office. As you enter, he sits with his head in his hands, his elbows on the desk. You don’t say a word as you set down the glass and pills.

He doesn’t move. You back away slowly and pull out your cell phone. You’ll call the masseuse, she should be able to work out the tension.

As you get to the door, he growls and his chair squeaks.

“You said something, about witch hazel,” he snarls.

“Uh, yes,” you face him, “it’ll take down the bruising.”

He narrows his eyes, the gesture tweaking his swollen cheek. Even battered, he isn’t unattractive. And the woman in his kitchen was just as gorgeous. So you find it hard to fathom why he’s in such a mood.

“Would you like me to get it for you, sir?” You ask, trying not to sound too pandering.

“Sure, whatever.”

You sweep away and go down the hall to the cabinet. You keep everything stocked well. Part of your job is inventory. You’ll have to go through the liquor bottles later and see what needs replenishing too.

You return to him with the witch hazel and a bag of cotton balls. You place them on his desk as he leans his head against the chairback, his eyes closed. You step back on your heel and his eyes pop open.

“Would you mind?” He motions to his face.

“Sure,” you take the cotton balls and pull one out.

You uncap the dark bottle and dampen the cotton with the liquid. His eyes close again as you sidle closer and you dab gently along his cheek. He flinches, just once, then stills. It must be cold. 

His eyes flick open again and startle you as you retract your touch. Awkwardly, you move away and gather up the bottle and bag of cotton balls. He’s quiet as he leans forward to grab the bottle of pills.

“I should’ve guessed,” he says as he shakes two tablets out, “that’s what I do. I read people. You’re a mother, for sure. She’s older, isn’t she? College? You had her young–”

“Sir,” you sniff, uncomfortable.

“Just the one. And you didn’t answer me when I talked about your husband so he must be out of the picture. Divorced. About the time you came around here, huh? You need the job after the messy break up,” he suggests as he wags his finger with a knowing grin, “probably another woman, huh?”

You blink. You’ll let him think what he wants. His opinion of your marriage isn’t important. It won’t do to correct him anyway. He doesn’t really seem to care, he just wants to wound. You just can’t figure out what you’ve done to deserve it.

#nick fowler #dark nick fowler #dark!nick fowler #nick fowler x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #blurred lines #the 355

[lunajay33]

Sleepover☁️

Summary: The farm was secure to everyone but you couldn’t sleep at night and sought out comfort from the one person who made you feel safe

•Masterlist•

I laid in my tent feeling unsettled, scared…I’d liked to think this place was safe, secure but I just couldn’t

Every other place we’ve had it’s gone down hill and we’ve lost people, what if I was sleeping and a walker got me and I died alone

I tossed and turned for a few hours until I finally got up and decided to do something about this so I could get some sleep before the sun rises

I walked past all the other tents to Daryl’s who had moved his closet after what happened to Dale

I tapped on his tent and whispered as to not wake the others

“Daryl? Are you up?”

All I heard was rustling and the tent being unzipped so I could be face to face with Daryl

“Ya okay?”

“Umm, kinda I was wondering maybe…if it’s not to much to ask, could I stay with you tonight, I don’t feel safe alone” I asked nervously feeling my heart pound in my chest

“Are ya sure ya wanna stay with me?” He asked confused

“Yes, you’re the only one I feel protected around, it’s okay if it’s a problem” I said standing to leave

“Wait, ya can stay ‘ere, it’s no problem” he said as he laid back in his sleeping bag

I walked in zipping back up the tent and laying out my sleeping bag, as I was all settled I turned on my side to face him and he was already looking at me

“Thank you Daryl, it means a lot I haven’t gotten a lick of sleep since we’ve been here”

“Ya should’ve said somethin’ ain’t gonna do no good tired all the time”

“I know I just didn’t wanna add another problem to the list”

“Ya ain’t a problem, never, yer gonna stay with me from now on, I want ya to feel safe” he smiled and we slowly fell asleep

That night I had the best sleep of my life, along with every night after that next to Daryl

#daryl dixion imagine #twd daryl #daryl dixon #twd fanfiction #twd x reader #twd fluff #twd rick #twd michonne #twd negan #twd farm #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x female reader

[princessmaybank]

New Message Part 2

Pairings: JJ x Virgin!Fem!BestFriend!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, virgin, p in v, oral (both), ETC.

Summary: Part 2 of New Message! All Smut! Enjoy!

Authors Note: If you haven't read part one yet, here you go-

New Message Part 1

"I can't believe we haven't done this before." JJ groaned out while guiding me up and down on his dick. I told him I really wanted to try it and he was absolutely for it. As long as I was comfortable. Woah, his dick felt so good inside of me. "Sorry Jayj, fucking my best friend wasn't exactly on my to-do list." He laughed. "to-DO list." I couldn't help but giggle a little as well, but it turned into a moan as he forced his hips up.

Before I was able to even think of forming a sentence he pulled me off of his lap and put me in a new position. He made sure I was comfortable with doing it, and swore up and down it will make me feel so good.

"Fuck JJ don't stop!" He had me in the doggy position, fucking the shit out of me. Now I know how it feels to have my hot, blonde haired, blue eyed, best friend take me from behind. He was pulling on my hair gently, because I wasn't sure about it at first, but now I know it adds to my excitement, and his.

It was absolutely impossible to think of anything while he was rearranging my guts. He kept making sure I was okay during the whole thing. If I wasn't comfortable with a position then he wouldn't pressure me. But I said yes to everything he suggested, obviously.

He made sure I was never going to forget this night. Making sure I'd probably never walk again as well. "I won't baby. Damn, your pussy is so fucking tight." He said through gritted teeth, pulling my hips backwards every second or two.

Before I knew it, he pulled out of me, and before I could even whimper, I felt a slick, cold, tongue swipe up my cunt. That was new and I definitely wasn't complaining. "Damn it JJ!" He giggled to himself before licking another stripe while I remained in the doggy position.

I don't remember when he flipped me on my back and sank between my legs, but he did. JJ has been fucking me with his tongue for at least 10 minutes now. You would think he would be tired from all of this, but damn that boy continues on. There was a time in those 10 minutes where he was sucking on my clit and that made me arch my back. I haven't been able to relax my back, which is saying something about JJ.

"Be a good girl and cum on my tongue." JJ said taking a second to breathe while looking into my eyes from down there. I moaned just from hearing that sentence. My climax was rising and I was nearly there, I just needed a littl-

"FUCK JJ" He stuck two fingers in me, pounding in and out of my little pussy, while sucking on my clit. That was enough to send me over the edge and he obviously knew I was there because he replaced his fingers with his tongue. He swallowed every last drop of me before coming up and giving me a long, heated kiss. I had never done what I was about to do, and I hope he helps guide me.

I got on my knees in front of JJ, slowly stroking him as his eyes stayed fixed on me. He let out deep sighs every few seconds, which wasn't enough for me to be honest. I took JJ's huge cock and licked from the base to the tip. This caused his head to roll back, which gave me enough time to slip my mouth onto him. "Shit- Y/N/N. I would've never guessed th-that this is your-" His breath hitches has I bob my head up and down with his hand gently pushing me up and down. He couldn't even go back to finish his sentence. JJ laid down while his legs were still off the bed. He just let me do what I wanted at this point, he let me experiment with his dick. I must've done a pretty good job sucking him off because he came in only two minutes and he had no complaints.

"I'm glad you answered my text" He heaved while cuddling me. "I'm so glad I did too." I smiled to myself as he gave me sweet little kisses on my neck. "Jayj-" "Yes Y/N/N?" He asked, sitting up slightly. "Thanks for being my first." I smiled back at him. JJ slumped back down and hugged me as tight as he could. "I've been waiting for you." He kissed my temple which caused a blush to rise to my cheeks. "Also, how is 7 at The Wreck tomorrow?" I looked at him confused. "For what?" "I'm asking you out silly." He poked my cheek and gave me a little peck. "7 is perfect." So is this moment.

#jj maybank #outer banks #obx fic #rudy pankow x reader #rudy pankow smut #jj maybank smut #obx x reader #outer banks smut #jj maybank imagine #smut prompts

[chernabogs]

Congratulations on 100 followers!!! I'm so glad to see your work getting the love it deserves! If it's alright with you (and please don't feel pressured, I just saw your reblogged prompt list and had a thought) I would like to request Jade and Reader with the "You're about as intimidating as a butterfly" prompt. I'm just curious as to how you would write something with Jade since I enjoy how you phrase things in your works. And again, congratulations!!!!!

WAH THANK YOUUUUU so excited to dig my hands into some Jade stuff

RHODOMEL

Inc: Jade x Reader, some Floyd (naturally), a touch of Azul Warnings: None! WC: 2.3k Summary: It's a quiet night at the Lounge, and his newfound conversation partner has just arrived.

Most people would hate it—'it' being the concept of a routine. A baseline set of tasks to complete at a certain point of time, day in and day out, which serves as both a tether and a guide for how the hours are meant to play. Jade follows somewhat of a routine in his life. Waking up, attending classes, and then in the evening assisting with the operations at Mostro Lounge. 

Sometimes there’s a wrench in his routine. Floyd may shake things up (he, who lives with no routine at all), Azul may request something be looked into, or he may find himself with a few spare hours on the weekend to venture off into the mountains that lay scattered around the island. He doesn’t mind the changes—he’s rather quick at adapting to things on the fly—and he also doesn’t mind the conflicts that arise with them. 

“—and at least twenty pounds of tomatoes.” Azul is next to him at the ‘bar’ area of the lounge, dubbed so despite the fact that no alcohol is permitted to be served on campus. He’s hunched over on a stool, his uniform half complete and his sleeves pushed up as he writes out the stock order that’s meant to be sent tomorrow evening. 

Floyd has that task. Jade wonders if he’ll feel up to it when the time comes, or if he’ll be taking it on instead. Not that he minds. 

“Twenty?” He muses as he picks up another glass to wipe clean. “We often order less than that.” 

“There’s a discount for twenty. We’ll think of new dishes with tomatoes to add. Perhaps we can also get in touch with Lilia to see if he’ll buy some…” Azul hums back as his pen continues to strike across the stock paper with vigour. Jade feels a twinge of amusement at the way the man is already strategizing how to make a profit from their purchase. 

His attention is then drawn back to the patrons currently in the lounge. It’s a quieter night—which makes sense, considering that this is on the brink of midterm season. A few Pomefiore students are in a booth in the corner, and he spots a Diasomnia boy with two Octavinelle ones at another table. One of the lounge’s waiters moves between the tables with practised ease.

Then he hears the door open. He feels that twinge of amusement grow when a familiar face passes through the threshold with a frown—possibly from the way this night seems particularly colder than most. 

“You have an expression I’m not too sure I like.” Azul’s voice draws his gaze once more. His friend, as he supposes that’s the best way to coin it, observes him with narrowed eyes before looking back to the door. His expression then shifts to a brief flash of understanding before he chuckles and closes the order books. 

“Done?” Jade asks innocently as Azul pushes the stool in with a sly look. 

“Do remember to restock the limes.” Is all he says before departing for his office, leaving Jade alone in the bar area, and giving their new customer an ample opportunity to approach. 

He knows that you will. This has become somewhat of a routine for you, although you still try to play it off like you’re not coming in here to speak with him for an hour or so. He finds it quaint that you come up with new excuses each time you sit at that bar and order something for him to make. A part of him wonders where you get the funds to come out nearly twice a week—but then again, why question where the money comes from when he’s the one receiving it in the end? 

“Welcome.” He muses as you sit down in your usual spot, right where Azul was sitting moments earlier. He sets another newly scrubbed glass down before pulling out the lounge’s menu and sliding it your way. “I would imagine you’d be too preoccupied with your midterms to come visit tonight.” 

“I'm considering this a study break,” you counter as you peer at the menu.

Jade feels a slightly genuine, but still mostly polite, smile play at his lips as he looks back out to the lounge. He spots Floyd lurking by the door, and when the two brothers make eye contact, the latter's expression lights up. Jade hums quietly when the other starts to make his way over. 

“This is bullshit!” 

That is, until an explosive voice from the table with the Diasomnia boy stops everyone in their tracks. Even you turn to look back in surprise, as Jade sets yet another glass down to observe the next few moments with interest.

He doesn’t feel the need to step in. Floyd’s attention has already been diverted, and the boredom his twin was feeling hovering by the entrance is now suddenly abated as the grin on his face grows wider. You look back to Jade, who glances at you and flashes yet another polite smile. 

This isn’t unusual to happen in the Mostro Lounge, especially during exam times when students try all that they can to swindle opportunities for higher grades with less of the legwork. Jade has never quite felt any sympathy for those who approach Azul, or anyone else in Octavinelle for that matter, in a bid to gain a higher grade. Perhaps it was his upbringing under his parents guidance or perhaps it’s just the constant exposure to Azul’s strategies, but he’s always been under the impression that one gets what they deserve in the end—regardless of what they do.

“Floyd looks way too happy about this,” you murmur as you turn back slowly to look at the menu. Jade picks up another glass with a soft hum. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” He continues to clean the glass as the volume from that table grows, now drawing more attention towards the conflict. He can see that it’s beginning to disturb the clients—yourself included—and he has half the mind to go silence it himself. Floyd is taking far too long, playing around with the students and goading them on. 

The Diasomnia boy, in his fury at whatever the other students just tried to rip him off of, turns around and in that very moment catches Jade’s eye. It takes very little facial expressions or micro-movements for the students to quickly sober up, and then turn red in a combination of both embarrassment and fear. He grabs at his jacket, slamming his madol down on the table, before storming out of the lounge with Floyd trailing along behind. His twin's laughter is audible even when the doors close. Jade returns back to his duties as you nudge the menu forward. 

“It’s quite interesting how fast that student ran out of here when all you did was look at him.” You muse, resting your chin in your palm as you peer at him. He feels that twinge of amusement again in his gut. If one were to see the two of you right now, they might think that you’re making eyes at him. Perhaps you are, unintentionally or not, and it’s this thought that makes him decide that he’ll humour your conversations once more. 

“Is it?” He replies, cryptic as always as he glances down to the drink menu. This isn’t necessary—he knows every item on display by heart at this point. After all, he’s one of the people who devised it to begin with. “Why do you say so?” 

“From where I’m sitting, you’re about as intimidating as a butterfly,” you counter. He stifles a laugh as he glances back at you. His smile almost reaches his eyes this time. 

“From where you’re sitting? Then perhaps you should move a bit closer—or order a drink that improves your sight.” Another glance at the menu. “Are you ready to order, by chance? The fact that you slid this my way tells me so.” 

“I’d like to move closer…” he hears you grumble under your breath before you shake your head. “I can’t decide. What is it that you’d recommend for tonight?”

For tonight? He recalls vaguely what the weather was like outside before he sequestered himself back into the lounge’s kitchen and storage rooms. The sky had been a mess of gray clouds swirling above, with flecks of white snow gradually descending to kiss the earth. He’s been on land long enough now that the first snowfall of the season has lost its allure—although Floyd still finds amusement in it, when the mood strikes. “It’s rather cold out there right now, isn’t it?” 

More patrons leave until it’s only the two of you left—save for Floyd, who skulks off to Azul’s office with a pleased grin on his face. Jade hums softly again as he sets another glass down. 

They would be closing soon enough. Perhaps something off the menu could be made—as a slight nod to your continuous patronage. 

“Do you like tea?” He asks after a moment, sending a glance your way. He can see your expression perks up slightly. Even if you don’t like it, something tells him that you’ll be apt to accept whatever he sets down in front of you anyway. Perhaps he can use this to his advantage later—he’s beginning to feel bored with only using Silver as a guinea pig for his mushroom dishes. 

“Depends on the kind.” You try to play off your brief excitement with a more relaxed answer as you lean against the bar once more. Jade has to hide the amused little quirk of his lips as he kneels down to put the glasses away. 

“I was taught by Kalim most recently a way to brew tea that I have been itching to try once more.” He looks up from behind the counter, his eyes slightly shadowed in the light, and he can see your curiosity growing. “Would you be so kind as to let me do so?” 

True to his prediction, he sees your lips curl into a smile and you nod, giving him your permission. This time Jade does little to conceal his own pleasure over your comment as he rises back up and brushes his hands on his uniform pants. 

“Wonderful. We may as well go into the kitchen for this. I’m beginning to have doubts that we’ll be seeing anyone else tonight.” 

—------

Truthfully, he doesn’t mind the company. Unlike his brother who often flips between wanting to be around others and wanting to just be alone, Jade finds himself in a consistent state of ambivalence towards company. Your company may rank a bit higher than others, only because you let him do things like this without protest. 

“This is a spin on rhodomel that I’ve been testing out.” he explains, as though giving a lecture as he holds up a tea blend infused with roses. “Traditionally, the drink is a mead made of honey, water, and some syrup—but we aren’t permitted to serve any alcohol, and so I make do with what I can.” 

He recalls Kalim’s instructions for brewing—along with the horrors of just how much sugar the other man dumped into the drink. Jade gestures for you to have a seat as he sets the kettle up. 

The kitchen of Mostro Lounge is large enough to accommodate more than a few people, and yet you situate yourself right next to him at the counter, watching each step he takes with an astute interest. It’s almost flattering just how keen you seem at making sure you don’t miss a single action of his. 

He puts the leaves in the kettle and boils them before preparing a few more herbs of nature that he doesn’t fully disclose. Once the boiling is done, he pours the tea into the herb bowl that he’s prepared, drops a few sugar cubes inside, and then pours the blend into one of two cups he’s set aside. 

“There,” he muses before grabbing a bottle of honey from a nearby counter and adding a dash of that as well. “Perhaps it won’t be as savoury as rhodomel is alleged to be, mainly because we haven’t let it steep for too long, but I do hope it’s somewhat enjoyable.” 

He nudges the cup towards you with his usual coy smile. “Enjoy.”

You take the cup without so much as a second thought, blowing on the hot brew before taking a tentative sip. Truthfully, Jade has never even tried this himself—if it tastes like shit, then he’ll be able to tell by your expression, despite the words of praise you may give. You’re a readable person.

He appreciates that to a degree. 

But then your eyes light up, and you take another sip, and he knows that he’s performed somewhat of a miracle with whatever he’s just made. “This is really good…!” 

A smug look briefly flashes on his face before he leans against the counter once more and finally tries it out. It is quite good, and he gives himself a mental pat on the back for that. Maybe he’ll even pitch this to Azul for a weekend morning special to offer.

Or he'll sell it to Heartslabyul.  

A comfortable silence settles as the two of you enjoy the experimental concoction together. His fingers lightly tap the rim of his cup as he gives you a sly, sidelong glance, studying you a bit more intently than before. Your expression is satisfied and your body language tells him just how relaxed you feel in his presence. Your previous comment of how he’s hardly intimidating to you plays through in his mind once more. 

Perhaps…

“Do you like hiking by chance?” He doesn’t ask subtly—he just outright says it, and he watches as you look at him with a wide-eyed expression. 

“Oh. Sometimes?” You reply.

Not a no, but not a yes. He taps the rim of his cup again. 

“I like to do hikes in the mountains on weekends, when I get the time. You would be surprised at how many fascinating species of flora and fungi exist up there. I collect them for the Lounge, on occasion.” Before Azul shuts that down after a week or so. “You strike me as someone who can be quite adventurous—so, would you like to come along the next time I go?” 

Is this a recruitment? Yes. Is he trying to get you to taste-test his dishes? Yes. Is there maybe a small, selfish reason for asking to steal more of your time without interruptions?

“Sure!” You reply brightly, and this time he does offer a genuine smile. 

Oh, absolutely.

#twst x reader #jade leech #twst jade #me writing a non dia prompt?? unheard of #but WAH TYYYYYYY sobs #jade leech x reader #gn reader #100 followers special

[bitchlessdino]

TPC: Seungcheol hot tub sexcapades

Series

Pairing: afab!reader x seungcheol

Genre: smut

Word count: 2.6k

tags: virgin!reader, mention of body image issues, mention of adult content, mentions of tresspasing, mentions of drinking alcohol, smut but not sex? nag!seungcheol, heavy making out, oral (reader rec.), fingering

Summary: At the grown age you are, you were very much ready to lose this social construct that is your virginity, and who better to lose it to than the hottest guy at the party.

author note: i haven't touched this in so long. Happy to have them back and with cheol of all people. hopefully finishing this soon bc it looks like I have another mile stone Im about to hit.

Tag list: @iwouldbangchan @1uvlywon @just-here-to-read-01 @candidupped @minnie-mouser22 @shiningstar-byulxx @90s-belladonna @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @honglynights @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @lovelyhan

The only times you’ve cum were by the will of your own hand. It’s embarrassing to admit, but you are painfully a virgin.

High school wasn’t great to you and neither is college, but it came at a point in time you were ready to get it over with. God, did you sound like some cliche. Not any more cliche than this party you’re at though. Drunk, horny, high. Almost everyone there was one, two, or all of the above. 

You aren’t all that different. Especially after landing your eyes on possibly the best lay you could have. His eyes round like planets, shining brighter than any star in the sky. His hair is coiffed more perfect than the head of any Ken doll. And his lips, so naturally pouty and biteable, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip would taste sex alone. 

“Ooh, he's a good one. Nice eye.” 

“Em, I can’t,” you say, shaking your head at your friend. “Look at him. He’s too out of my league. What would I even say? Hey, you’re really hot, wanna take my virginity sometime? Are you kidding me?”

“Why the fuck not? You’re hot, he’s hot. You would make the hottest porno ever to exist—if that was your plan.” She adds that last part after seeing the panicked look in your eyes.

“Yeah,” You reply, rolling your eyes. “Hot stud steals V card from loser virgin.”

“There’s a market for that,” she nudges.

“Whatever. I’ll probably just look for someone more approachable.”

“Hey, the worst thing about coming up to him is he says he isn’t interested.”

“And how is that not at all traumatizing?”

“It’s life. Just be willing to walk through it.”

With a bit more convincing, somehow she’s managed to push you toward him. Your sneakers dragged against the floorboards, hands shaking in anticipation. In a split second, his bored gaze lands on you, and a chilling strike runs down your spine. It halts your step. Time slows down as the corner of his lips slowly turns up. His chin lifts up to greet you nonverbally, waiting for you to come closer.

You finally reach him, eyes following you like a hawk, you try to relax in his presence. Emphasis on try because besides the music, all you can hear is the pounding in your chest that travels to your ears. You release a shallow breath before saying “hi,” really wishing now you accepted that drink earlier when you arrived.

“Hi.” His voice was deep, yet mellow. “Having a good night?”

“I think so. You?”

“You can say that.” He briefly nods off to scan the party. “Could be better though.”

“How so?”

“It just,” he simply shrugs his shoulders, “could be better.”

You take a second to think about how you can turn this around in your favor. Strategizing happens to be one of your many amazing qualities. Like a light bulb appearing above your head, you remind yourself of the neighborhood you’re in and how familiar you are with it than you realize. “What if I told you I knew a place we can use a hot tub? No one home, all to ourselves.”

“I’d say, ‘hi, I’m Seungcheol. Pleasure to meet you. What’s this about a hot tub?’”

You make your grand escape from the party to take Seungcheol to a neighbor's house that you’re used to babysitting. As far as you know, they’re on a vacay to the Bahamas and won't be back until next weekend. That means you have all the freedom to hop over the fence to their backyard with an unlikely chance of getting caught.

“So, how do you know this place we’re trespassing?”

“I know the owners. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”

You turn on the hot tub and watch as the bubbles start to form, your smile doing just the same. Your eyes shift from the water to him nervously. “Just takes a few seconds. Meanwhile…” Your fingers fiddle with the bottom hem of your shirt, raising it past your mid-drift. Your nails graze up your sides as your shirt is pulled over your head, revealing imperfect skin, an imperfect body, scantily clad by beige–your safe color–lace and ribbon. “We can’t get our clothes wet.”

It took time for you to give your body the love it deserves and some days you still feel it’s not worth it, but at the end of the day, you’re the one living in it. You had it only in yourself to love it the most, even if you made it the reason you’ve gotten this far without popping your cherry. Your worst critic would always be yourself, after all.

Even in this backyard, where Seungcheol can't even bear to tear his eyes away from you. He draws in a breath, quietly scoffing to himself as he outlines the shape of your body. To him, the evening air smells delicious with the addition of the view. And no, he wasn’t looking at the full moon tonight.

The sensation in his chest deepens when your shorts are released from their top button, falling to your ankles after the zipper is pulled down. “Well?”

He looks up after your eruption of giggles, watching as your toe is first to dip in the warm water. Inch by inch, your body gets submerged, raising your internal body temperature by several degrees. He breaks away from your gaze with a smug smile, finally removing articles of his clothes, starting with his shirt. 

An Adonis body perfectly matching his Adonis face. Chiseled all over, his muscles stood taunt on his figure. He joins, sitting across from you, sharing the heat of the surrounding water, now glistening his skin in the beautiful twilight. You could devour every inch of him.

“This is nice.”

“I told you. Would take this baby out when the kids I babysit are asleep. Let my mind go blank for an hour or two.”

He nods at that, silent after.

“This is actually the first time I brought someone, always too scared about getting caught on the job. Haha.” Why would you say that?

You shut your eyes in embarrassment but tried to get over the initial cringe of your words before changing the subject. “So, do you always follow strangers at the mention of a hot tub?”

“Not always, but I find it better not to question most things. More fun that way. Do you always lure strangers into intimate and private settings?”

“No, but so far I have no complaints.”

He gives you a closed-mouth grin, now making you wonder about the smile he’s hiding behind those lips. “Let’s hope I keep it that way.”

The air is thick with tension, even six feet apart from each other. Most men would pretend not to look, but not Seungcheol. His eyes stayed stuck to you, dark and stormy in stark contrast to the clear skies faintly illuminated by the lawn lights and barely there stars. You are almost sure he wants you at least a third as much as you want him, but he made no gesture in approaching you first, so you dangle yourself in front of him. 

Lifting off your seat, your breasts bounce up from the water it once floated in into the cool, crisp air. You saunter in his direction until you're mere centimeters away from him, supremely conscious of the pure sex radiating off his pristinely large build. “It’s gonna sound like a cliche, but I don’t do this kind of thing. I’m usually a by-the-books person.”

“What’s changed?”

Your hand reaches for his bicep, hard and pulsing under your fingertips, and you pull yourself towards him, knees bent on either side of his thick thighs until you're straddling him. Your eye level ascends until you’re looking down at him, his irises dilating once he sees you and feels your soft curves meet his deep hollows. “You look more fun than books.”

“So what, you’re gonna do things differently with me?” You feel the pad of his fingers ghost over your spine, shivers following, causing you to arch into him with a gasp. “I don’t know if I’m worth all that.”

Your hands trickle on the nap of his neck, threading in his dry hair, and excitement bubbles inside you. “The call I get to make.”

His lips, pink and plump, meet yours when you lean in. Like pillows, they cushion the impact and hug the curve of your lips before they start ebbing with carnage. His hands press into the solid of your lower back, fusing into like a tense thread has snapped loose. Your tongue beckons him for access, cheeks flushed against him. You whimper as he holds you tighter, his erection digging into your crotch, and you can somehow feel how wet you are. You’re wet all over from the water your party submerged in, but the lining of your warmth contains a more viscous fluid.

Eventually, Seungcheol pulls away, earning your bemused expression. “I’m not taking your virginity.”

“What?” You ask, shocked, backing away. “How—Why the hell not?”

“I overheard what you and your friend said. Not very subtle. As to why…you deserve better than that.”

You roll your eyes, “Ugh, you’re one of those guys. Remember that not everyone holds the value of sex to this same high standard.”

“But you do, given you feel so pressured to do it for the first time.” He lays an awkwardly platonic pat on your arm, discomfort apparent on your face, but he shows no sign of caring. “I’m not going to let you throw something…heavy away to someone you met—what, 15 minutes ago—to cater to a societal norm. Depending on the person, they would have hurt you. I could’ve hurt you.”

“Look.” Your hand presses against his bare chest. “I approached you. I chose you. Who I decide to have sex with is up to me. I’m grown enough to make that decision.”

“I’m not telling you to promise your body to someone you plan on marrying. What you deserve is to have it to be with someone special, at least someone you trust. Why would you let me even this close to you?”

You scoff. “You had no complaints when we were making out. So don’t use this generic ass excuse that it should be ‘special’ or someone I ‘trust.’ If you don’t want to sleep with me then don’t.”

“You don’t listen.”

“I’ve complied with most things in my life. This will not be one of them. Now, if you don’t want this, it won’t be you. I’ll move on to someone else…I’d just hoped it’d be you.” You lift yourself onto the ledge, only your feet in the water. “Seeing as this is going nowhere, thanks for wasting my time. Good kisser though. Three stars.”

You’re about to leave when his hand stops at your knee. You look down at him expectantly as he gets closer. “Stubborn too.” He stands in the pool to meet your eyes, lips pursed in an amused smile. “I followed you so no one else would. I plan to keep it that way.”

You raise a brow, unsure where your surge of confidence came from, finally feeling the tremble of your hand as it covers his. “What makes you think after this I plan on staying with you?”

“Because although I won’t be having sex with you, I can give you something just close enough.”

Now both hands are on your knees, lips colliding with yours once more, just as hot and sweet as the first kiss. You moan as his teeth dig into your bottom lip, his hands finding your unbreached heat. Then there's that familiar reflex of pulling away, the situation dawning on you now. You blink back at this beautiful man that takes your breath away just from his mere presence and get that same feeling every other time you come close. “Seungcheol…”

“You backing down on me, virgin?”

“Okay, that hurt.”

He chuckles. “I’m teasing, but not the kind I should be doing.” He lands a kiss on your nose. “I’ll be careful. If you let me, that is.”

“I am. You just make me really nervous.”

“I understand. I won’t do anything you wouldn’t want me to.”

You nod, a little too eagerly. “I want you. I-I’m letting you.”

“Good, then relax.”

He parts your legs further away, hand firmly pressed against your warmth, seizing the oxygen from your lungs, and he kisses you tenderly. Your hand clasps over his cheeks, deepening your liplock, and you feel the courage seep out of his fingers as they push aside your damp panties. His digits glide over your moisture, coating himself in the arousal built over your time together and you feel him smile against your lips. “That’s definitely not water, but I have a feeling you know that already.”

“More teasing?” You ask in a weak breath.

“I’ll make sure it’s worth it.”

He bows his head, his knees hitting the plastic bottom. His hands glide over your thighs, a tingling sensation follows its path. His kiss marks your skin in a way that wasn’t visible, only burning you with an unreplicable heat. His touch—gentle and firm—makes your head go to places you usually go to when you’re alone. His eyes tell you comfort and safety, but conflict with the glint of hunger that shines through.

He kisses the center of your folds, easing at you with light flicks of his tongue. Although delicate, it drives you insane, wanting you just to bury his face inside you already. Patience eventually rewards you as his tongue runs stripes over your bordering thighs—small jumps on your end—then your slit. He coats himself in your translucent nectar, sighing in your heat. Mewls then leave you like a nursery rhyme, haunting yet addictive. “Delectable just as much as you look.”

There’s a slow rise and drop of your chest watching him devour you. His lips purse to your core, darting in you to lap your insides, and you whine from his vigor. Your thighs press against his hot, red cheeks as water splashes around him. You shake—vibrate actually—speaking his name like it was the only thing that makes sense, and somehow you still feel how gentle he is with you. 

This stranger is meant to be a stranger, so why did he make you feel special?

With the curl of his fingers, they plunge in you, feeling how you pulsate around him as he sucks on your clit. You buck into his face, a wreck, hands glued to the edge of the tub in anguish. Your moans are a grand symphony on loop, the background music to the beautiful moment he’s savoring. How you gush feels him with pride, tightening his core as you push his head closer with your knees. “I-I’ma cum…”

He says nothing, only rummaging faster, deeper, holding on to the pace until his gums are filled with your climax, not minding how it makes him a mess. Your hips hit his face in an erratic beat, only settling down after he licks your thighs clean. You gasp in amazement, only for that gasp to be swallowed by Seungcheol as he sticks his tongue down your throat; you taste his promise.

You part in thick, glossy ribbons, eyes fucked from–you still can’t believe you’re saying this–orgasming by someone other than yourself.

“T-thank you,” you say with gratitude you conjured from the pit of your stomach.

“If you really want to thank me,” he leans in closer, “Let me take you out sometimes and I’ll let you experience it all over again.”

#svthub #seventeen smut #seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol smut #seventeen #scoup smut #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #scoups #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen scoups #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #svt #seventeen fanfic #scoups fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x y/n

[kira-broflovski]

Sleepover || Kyle Broflovski x Reader (2)

NOTE: characters are aged up to high school in this!!

Part 3

summary: you only intended to stay for a little bit and study with kyle in order to make it in time to wendy's sleepover, but you simply lost track of time

Kyle felt like he was short-circuiting. From his newfound confidence to the grateful hug you gave him, he just can't believe that really happened.

On the way to his next class, he opened the piece of paper to discover it read "text me" followed by your phone number.

"Fuck yeah!" He yelled out of excitement, not even caring about the weird stares he received.

"Dude, what happened?" Stan's voice called out from behind him. Kyle was too excited to say anything so he simply shoved the little note in his face as he slightly bounced on his feet. "Oh my god. You did it."

"I know!"

"You crazy son of a bitch." Stan was happy for his best friend, despite the lack of enthusiasm in his tone. "You actually got her number."

"I know!" Kyle repeated, practically grinning from ear to ear. "I still need to add it to my contacts."

The boys sat down in their usual seats next to each other while Kyle was hyperfixated on his phone and making sure he typed in the right number.

"What's up with him?"

"Is he okay?"

"Why is he staring at his phone?"

Many classmates were concerned for Kyle as they all noticed he was more jittery and excitable than usual, but the class itself felt like it was going too slow.

Halfway through, his phone buzzed.

"Mr. Broflovski, turn your phone on silent." The strict teacher snapped.

"Sorry, sir. I didn't mean to leave the notifications on." Yes he did.

"Whatever." The teacher turned back to his computer to do more boring work, while Kyle saw this as an opportunity to check the notification.

It was you!

"i forgot to ask, which house are we studying at?"

"mine? my little brother has swimming lessons n my parents are both at work"

"sure :)"

He stared at your last message, immediately imagining the smile that made him feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside.

This was going to be the longest lesson ever.

When the bell rang, he dashed out of his seat so he could be the first one out the school. Obviously, he wasn't. But it's the thought that counts.

You texted him saying you were on your way out, and his heart started pounding in his chest. He pretended to look busy on his phone in case you got weirded out that he was staring from afar.

"Kyle!" You called. He looked up as if he didn't know you were already outside, trying to play it cool.

"Y/N!" He smiled widely back. So much for playing it cool. "Shall we?" He motioned his hand in another direction, the path towards his home.

The two of you were walking in silence, not an awkward one as there was no tension, it was more apprehension. You always wondered what his home looked like, and more specifically, what his bedroom looked like. Is it messy? Or tidy? Does he collect and hoard things? Or did he take the minimalistic approach?

So many questions yet to be answered.

Thankfully, the walk wasn't long. Although, Kyle did take you down the longest path in hopes of spending more time with you.

"Welcome to the Broflovski residence, Miss L/N." He bowed as he opened the door and held it open. "Ladies first."

"Why thank you, Mr. Broflovski." You stepped forward into the surprisingly large house this boy called home.

A stupid grin grew wider on your face because seeing him slowly become his nerdy self around you was heart-warming.

You remember watching him from afar, playing with his friends in whatever imaginary game they could think of. How you wanted to join in so badly. Instead, you wasted your time making meaningless lists with the girls.

"We can go up to my room," Kyle stated, bringing you back to the present. Only to realise what he just said. You didn't say anything and simply raised your eyebrow at him.

When he heard no vocal response he turned around, your facial expression only making him more confused.

"What?"

"Your room, huh?" You couldn't stop the smirk on your lips the same way he couldn't stop his cheeks getting redder and hotter.

"Don't make it weird, dude!"

"Relax, I'm joking."

"H-here, I'll show you up." He hastily made his way up the stairs, signalling for you to follow him.

"What a gentleman," you snickered.

Kyle jokingly groaned in response, which only made you laugh more, but on the inside there were fireworks exploding in his chest. Even the sound of your laughter made him weak in the knees.

Awkwardly, he showed you his room and you pointed out all the photos of him in different situations and with family members or close friends.

"Anyways, I'm gonna go grab us some drinks and snacks then we can get started. Does that sound good with you?" He looked at you for confirmation.

"Yeah, of course!" You beamed that infamous smile of yours, the smile that he just couldn't get enough of.

The next couple of hours went surprisingly quickly thanks to Kyle's intelligence and your perseverance.

Currently, you were both studying independently when a scoff from you broke the silence. Kyle looked up at you slowly, appreciating the moment before you looked at him, as it gave him time to admire your face close up for once.

"These textbook jokes are so stupid," you snorted.

He gestured towards the book, so you turned it around so he could read it. You watched as his eyes scanned the page before his face creased out of second-hand embarrassment for whoever wrote that.

"Oh god."

"I know, right?"

"Who would even find that funny?"

"Probably a try-hard with straight As."

"Probably," he shook his head. He looked back up at you to see your eyes wandering aimlessly around his room. "We should take a break. My hand hurts from this stupid ass book."

"Agreed." You stood up to stretch in front of the window, and that's when you noticed something in the garden.

"Kyle!"

"I'm right here you don't need to yell." The sudden exclamation of his name startled him. "What is it?"

"You have a treehouse?" You pointed outside, marvelling at the mighty fortress that still stood after all these years.

"Yeah?" He stood up and walked over to then follow your finger to where you were pointing. "Why?" He asked as he looked down at you. You were pulling the best doe eyes you could, and Kyle thought he was going to have a heart attack due to how cute you are.

"Do you want to go in it?" He asked, trying so hard to act as if he doesn't want to just kiss you right here right now.

"Can we?" You continued to stare at him.

"What's the magic word?" He decided to tease you as a way of trying to make it even for the teasing he endured earlier.

"Please, Kyle." You clasped your hands together to commit. "Can we please go in your treehouse, Kyle?"

The way you said his name was music to his ears, and it really got his imagination going. It wasn't just his face that had more blood flowing in it than usual.

"Begging, are we?"

He doesn't know where this surge of confidence came from, but seeing you plead for something was so cute yet so hot.

"If that's what it takes," you said, exasperated, and got closer to him. Your faces were inches apart. Both of you were internally freaking out.

He waited a couple seconds, just to savour this moment, before responding.

"Alright, I can't say no when you make that face." He rolled his eyes jokingly before leading the way again.

"I'll keep that in mind." You grinned to yourself.

"I shouldn't have said that."

"It's too late now, Kyle."

"Oh, great."

He knew he wasn't really complaining, if anything he'd love an excuse to just stare into your eyes. Especially if you say his name the same way you just did all the time.

What's going to happen in the treehouse?

----

note: I'll write part 3 ASAP. this was only meant to be a 2 part story, but I got carried away in both 😭 the wattpad author I used to be is still me ig

currently writing from my break at work, hope you guys enjoyed!!

taglist: @weridpersonhelp

#kyle broflovski x reader #kyle broflovski #south park #south park x y/n #south park fanfiction #fluff #eric cartman #stan marsh #kenny mccormick #sleepover ♡

[thought--bubble]

Kitty Cat Part 1 (Revised)

Ettore X (Neuro-Divergent Reader)

Warnings after the break

Kitty Cat Master List

Ettore Master List

Full Master List

Banners by @arcielee

Biggest warning is Ettore ( since he needs his own warning) , mention of murder. Unhealthy coping mechanisms. I think that's it. Anything else I should add, please tell me.

For as long as you can remember, you had an obsession with touch. The feel of skin against skin was a calming presence for you. When you were a child, whenever you were hurt, afraid, or sad, your mother would stroke your cheek and whisper comforting words into your ear.

This need for comfort persisted long after your mother died in that car accident. Long after, you committed a crime that would change your life forever.

This need was still ever present as you were loaded into a ship set to bring you and a group of the world's most unpleasant people up towards a black hole to do God knows what.

Your heart is pounding in your ears as you are loaded into the ship, the leather seat smooth to the touch. The man tasked with strapping you is murmuring under his breath, clearly annoyed.

You couldn't help yourself, you have been trying to rub your face on him the entire time. His arm, hand, wrist, anything really.

Make it stop, make it stop

Anything to bring you that endorphin release and bring your blood pressure down. When the seat belt is pulled over your right shoulder, you start to rub your face against it furiously. The sensation begins to calm your anxiety, and the rushing in your ears starts to subside, and you are finally clear minded enough to start to take in your surroundings.

You feel eyes on you, and your heart rate begins to pick up again.

No no, make it stop make it stop

You bring your hand up to the side of your face. It isn't what you truly needed, but it could help. But then, true relief comes, you feel cold knuckles up against your temple. Foreign. Not an inanimate object or your own hand but the flesh of another. You close your eyes as you begin to nuzzle into the hand, your blood pressure dropping as a wave of euphoria floods over you.

Your mind again begins to clear, you are able to think again, so you look to your right and the red-haired girl seated next to you is holding out her hand that you have been nuzzling up against for the last few minutes. She gives you a small confused smile but doesn't pull her hand away.

Maybe I'll survive on this ship after all

Since your initial meeting, you and the red head who you found out is named Boyse had been what would pass for friends on this ship.

She seemed to accept the fact that you were non-verbal and seemed dedicated to learning how best to communicate with you.

So you would sit next to boyse at meal times and stay close when time allowed, and she would allow you to rub your face on her shoulder or would stroke your cheek.

This kept you in a state of contentment . A few of the other crew mates had expressed how odd they found it, but Boyse paid them no mind.

Life was as happy as it could be on this little ship full of criminals. Each day passing without incident. Boyse by your side filling you with relief when you needed her most.

The only caveat being work assignments.

Most of the time, you were assigned to separate duties, and you had to cope with the lack of touch. You would stroke your own cheek or rub your face into your shoulder to keep the anxiety at bay. You had tried to elicit touch from other crewmates when you worked with them, but most made sure to steer clear from you.

But today, you were assigned to work with him. The one crewmate Boyse had suggested, no ordered you to stay far away from. She had pointed out on numerous occasions when he would watch while she pet you or while you nuzzle her shoulder, and this gave her a sense of unease.

You are aware of your own inability to pick up on proper social cues, so you decided to take her word for it, avoiding Ettore at all costs.

This wasn't a particularly difficult task given his penchant for staying alone. Opting to Leer from the outside.

That was until today. When standing next to Boyse and looking up at the assignment sheet, there was his name in bold black lettering directly next to yours. Both are seemingly assigned to laundry.

Boyse let out a long sigh as she looked at the assignment sheet.

"This can't be right. They can't leave you alone with him!"

Hearing her frustration, your heartbeat began to increase. You move towards her and start to rub your face on her shoulder.

"Not now, kitty, this is serious!" She looks towards you with concern, causing a deep furrow in her brow.

"There's something not right about him and you. You're just a little kitten," she says, rubbing your cheek with her hand. You smile and close your eyes while nuzzling into her.

"I'm going to find someone to switch with you. No way are you working alone with that creep," she stalks off, leaving you standing there before the assignment board.

You wait less than a minute before you scurry off in the direction she took off in.

Why did I wait so long?

Where did she go?

Your panic starts to bubble as you hear Boyse yelling.

" He's a predator! She doesn't even talk! How is this safe?!?"

You come flying around the corner with a crash. Dibs, the insane doctor who is somehow in charge, looks down at you unimpressed and then turns back to Boyse, a condescending lilt to her voice.

"Ettore knows and understands the rules. Everything and everyone will be fine. Go to your assignments."

She looks back and forth between you and Boyse. Boyse opens her mouth to say something else, but you interject by nodding your head furiously.

Boyse looks at you stunned. Then anger spreads across her face as she stalks away.

Please don't be mad, your all I have

You arrive at the laundry room. Blood rushes in your ears as your head swings around like a meerkat sticking its head out of the sand.

He didn't even show up. This isn't so bad

You start rubbing your face against your shoulder and feel the anxiety start to abate.

You fall into a false sense of security and begin to load the pile of clothes left by the machine in, when more drops on top of the pile.

You lift your head up and are met with the steely blue eyes of Ettore.

"That should be all of em"

"I collected you can load em yeah?"

You nod and begin to load the washer. Slightly hunched over, your heartbeat starts to pick up, and your face starts to flush. You instinctually start to rub your face on your shoulder again, the rushing in your ears getting worse as you feel that Ettore has moved much closer, the heat of his body radiating onto your back.

His closeness, his smell, his domineering presence all together cause something to snap in you, and you turn, guickly looking up at Ettore. As he stares back at you, you move closer, closing the small gap between you.

Shoulder is too far up

You can't reach his shoulder, and it fills you with frustration, you place your face against his arm and start to nuzzle.

At first, he tenses, and his breath hitches. But he doesn't push you away, so you keep going feeling the flush in your face start to cool, and your heart beat start to relax. Ettore places his hand under your hair on the back of your neck and slides his hand up into your hairline while scratching his nails against your scalp.

The feeling is nice, calming even as he continues lightly scratching at your scalp, you continue to nuzzle him feeling more and more at peace. Then, as if something has taken over him, he grips your hair tightly and pulls you up against him, his nose buried in the hair on the top of your head.

"OH kitty. You are in trouble "

Part 2

To be added to taglist click here

#ettore x reader #ettore #ettore fanfiction #ettore high life #ettore fanfic #ewan mitchell verse #ewan mitchell fanfic #ettore x you #ettore imagine #ewan mitchell #ettore smut #ewan nation #ewanverse #jess fics #my red flag bf

[hollyethecurious]

CS AU: Pan Says... (7/?)

Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.

A/N: I know, I know... all I do lately is apologize for not updating more frequently. I promise to try and do better, and as penance I have for you today a longer update than I had originally planned, so... forgive me?

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE! Heed the warnings listed below. This chapter is a bit of a doozy.

Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills!

Rated E /Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!  

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six 

Chapter Prompts: I received a couple of Asks asking for scenarios I've included in this update. Most of them were anonymous, lol.

Warnings: This chapter contains depictions of medical assault and rape by instrumentation. Also includes somnophilia, dubious consent, and a POV some readers might find triggering. Please feel free to message me for specifics before reading if you need to.

Part Seven

Nature’s call pulled Killian from a deep sleep. He stumbled his way to the water closet, trying his best to not wake Emma as he closed the door and relieved himself. He’d just finished a haphazard washing of his hands when he heard the soft click of the lock on the bathroom door, and then the dread-inducing screech of the metal door that separated them from the rest of the compound. Someone had entered their room, Killian realized in a panic, frantically trying to open the firmly locked door that separated him from his Swan.

“Emma!” he shouted, hoping to rouse her from sleep before their intruder did. “Emma!”

Startled exclamations muffled their way to his ears, as did the rustling of sheets and thuds from bootfalls. Again, Killian cried out Emma’s name, banging on the door and demanding to be let out.

“Killian!” he heard Emma shout, a bit more distant than he’d expect if she were still on the bed.

More rustling and shuffles of feet, followed by the agonizing sound of the metal door sealing shut once more had Killian’s pulse spiking in fear. When the soft click of the lock finally released, he burst out of the bathroom to find the room vacant.

Pillows and linens were strewn across the bed and onto the floor. Killian followed the trail of the bedsheet and hammered his fist against the door. “Let me out!” he demanded, pain shooting up his arm with each pounding. “Let me out!”

“Why would I do that?” Pan’s voice crackled from overhead.

Killian turned to face one of the many cameras “hidden” within the room. “Bring her back!“ he shouted. “Bring Emma back!”

“I don’t think so,” Pan drawled, a hardened edge underpinning his words. “I think some time away from each other to reflect upon what you’ve done will do you both some good. Besides…” he drew out the dramatic pause, and though Killian had no idea what the vile little imp looked like, he couldn’t help but imagine a sinister grin being applied to his next words. “We both know your little act of defiance last night cannot go without punishment.”

“Take me, then” Killian pleaded. “Bring Emma back and take me! I’ll bear the punishment. Just… don’t hurt Emma.”

“Oh, you’ll share in the punishment,” Pan promised. “I have something very special planned for the both of you. Don’t you worry about that.”

Feedback shrieked through the speakers, forcing Killian to cover his ears as Pan quite clearly and effectively shut down their communication. Tears welled in Killian’s eyes and his whole body shook from the overwhelming fear consuming him.

What was Pan planning to do? How long would he and Emma be separated from one another? What would they have to endure whilst they were reflecting?

Killian sank down on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Emma,” he whispered into the silence. “I’m so sorry, my love.”

Eventually, he traded his seated position at the end of the bed to being curled up in the fetal position upon it. He watched the path of the sun as its beams entered through the high window after sunrise and crossed the floor of the room during the early morning hours. He was numb and emotionally spent, having given over to the terror and tears that had wracked his body for what seemed like hours. Now, he just laid there, staring at the chips and cracks in the floor, without even the energy to chastise himself. What would the point be in that? It wasn’t as though there was anything he could do. No way out of the room, no way to communicate with anyone, no way to help Emma.

Killian clamped his eyes shut and fought back the rising bile his mutinous imagination threatened to bring up. Try as he might to keep the thoughts and visions at bay, he couldn’t help but consider the atrocities Pan might be subjecting her to. He turned his face into the mattress and balled the sheet in his hand, attempting once more to expel the torment of his mind.

The crackle of static from the tv screen grabbed his attention and Killian bolted off the bed. The monitor showed a sterile looking exam room, much like one would find at a physician’s office. Coming into frame from off screen, a Lost One appeared carrying an unconscious Emma in his arms. Killian tensed as he watched him lay her on the exam table, only relaxing when he disappeared out of frame again. The relief was short lived when another man entered, quickly followed by a small statured woman. Both were garbed in medical scrubs, including surgical masks, which obscured their identity.

Killian watched in confused horror as the woman - a nurse? - folded out a pair of stirrups from the end of the table and set Emma’s feet into them. She and the doctor (or at least, Killian hoped he was a doctor) positioned Emma to their liking, covering her lower half with a sheet before the doctor brought over a stool and sat between her spread open legs. Killian watched with shallow breaths and clenched fists as the nurse handed the doctor instruments so he could perform some sort of procedure. When it finally became clear to him, Killian was shocked to realize what he was witnessing.

They were removing her IUD.

Pushing himself away from the exam table, the doctor stood and removed his gloves. There was no audio, but Killian deduced he had given the nurse instructions before departing. It wasn’t until after the man had gone that Killian acknowledged the reason for the extra tension he’d been holding. As violating as the procedure had been, Killian had prepared himself to witness an altogether different kind of violation of his Swan.

Shaken, Killian sat back down and ran his hands through his hair, only vaguely aware Pan had come back on the speaker.

“What?”

“Pan says,” he repeated, “you are not permitted to tell her what you just saw.”

Stunned, Killian blinked several times, letting his mind catch up to the horrors Pan continued to lay before him, then thunderously, he stood and shouted, “You can’t expect me to keep something of this magnitude from her!”

“You will if you want to keep her alive,” Pan stated flatly, sobering Killian and sending a chill down his spine. “Keep this to yourself,” Pan warned again. “Or your punishment will be paid by her… with her life.”

~/~

Emma sat on a tiny cot with her knees pulled up to her chest. The hospital gown they’d given her the day before was stiff and scratchy against her skin, but at least she was no longer cramping.

Pan had told her that she would be the one punished, because she had been the instigator in her and Killian’s “dalliance”. The price for such an offense… she had to have her IUD removed, and she had to keep its removal a secret from Killian.

“You can’t expect me to keep something like that from him!” she’d protested, yelling up at the speakers embedded in the ceiling of her new, tiny cell.

“If you do not,” Pan had warned her coldly, “Then I will force Killian to pay the price… with a pound of his flesh.”

When the doctor had come in to talk with her before the procedure, she’d learned he was one of Pan’s poor unfortunate victims as well, forced to serve as the demented imp’s medical errand boy. He seemed professional enough, though perhaps a bit arrogant. His brash demeanor shifted though when Emma asked him what Pan had meant by “a pound of flesh.”

Swallowing hard, the platinum haired man exhaled deeply before confessing, “It could mean a variety of things. Having an organ removed so it can be sold on the black market, or even an… an amputation.”

“Amputation?!” Emma exclaimed in a shocked whisper. “You mean you…”

Solemnly the man nodded. “I’ve been forced to remove every organ imaginable and sever untold numbers of body parts from various victims of Pan’s.” Taking her hand in his, he squeezed it tightly and advised, “If you want your friend to remain whole, then do as Pan says.”

She’d woken up in this new room some time later, sore between her legs in a different sort of way than she had been after her night with Killian. A note with self-care instructions and a bottle of ibuprofen had been left on the table by her bedside, and it was then Emma had realized she’d mercifully been anesthetized for the procedure. The day had stretched into night and Emma had sat paralyzed with guilt and fear over what Killian might be going through. She’d had little to no sleep, and was therefore more on edge than normal when the door to her cell opened the next morning.

“Sorry,” the doctor apologized, noting how she’d balked at his appearance. “I just wanted to check and see how you were doing. Is it alright if I examine you? I have my nurse with me.”

Emma consented to his examination, not wishing to give Pan any further ammunition to use against her, or worse… against Killian.

“Everything seems to be in order,” he told her. “Anything bothering you physically? Any pain?”

Emma shook her head and mumbled she was fine, then sat back up with the assistance of the nurse once he’d finished. She was just straightening the hospital gown when she felt the prick of a needle pierce her shoulder.

“What did you…” The question fell away as numbness immediately began to overtake her. Within seconds, Emma could not move her arms or legs and she slumped over into the doctor’s arms, unable to keep herself upright.

“It’s okay,” the man soothed, laying her back down on the cot. “The effects are temporary. You’ll remain conscious, but you’ll be unable to move or speak until it wears off.”

More and more of her succumbed to the paralysis, her entire body becoming heavy and unresponsive. When her eyes would not open again after a blink, Emma panicked. Her heart raced at the sound of bootfalls entering the room and a silent scream echoed through her mind when she was hoisted off the cot and over a man’s shoulder.

~/~

Killian stood in the corner opposite the door, anxiously waiting for it to open. He wasn’t sure if having forewarning of Emma’s return was better or worse than simply being surprised. In the last few minutes since Pan had given him the news and his instructions, Killian had worked himself into another right state.

His stomach churned in a way that made him thankful for his lack of appetite since Emma had been carted away. Although, its lack of contents did not stop the threatening bile from creeping up his throat. His palms were slick with a sweat that was slowly breaking out over his entire body and his heart felt as though he might choke on it.

With the notice and instruction had also come the reminder to not let on what he’d seen the day before. As if he could forget. However, when the door finally opened and the Lost Ones entered (one with Emma over his shoulder and the other brandishing a cattle prod in Killian’s direction), Killian understood why Pan felt the need to remind him. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and reassure himself of her safety, to inquire how she was feeling, whether she was in pain or needed anything from him to ease the after effects of what she’d been through. Of course, he couldn’t do that. He had to pretend he didn’t know any more than she did about what happened to her during their separation. Her life depended on it.

“Swan?” Killian called out as the Lost One laid her on the bed. “Swan, are you alright?”

She didn’t move. Didn’t respond. For an awful, gut-wrenching second, Killian thought she might be…

A sigh of relief whooshed from his lungs when he saw her chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. She was alive. Thank God!

“I’m afraid she is currently… unable to respond,” Pan said over the speaker system as the Lost Ones backed out of the cell.

Once the door was secured, Pan gave Killian permission to leave the corner, and he wasted no time in rushing to Emma’s side.

“Swan?” he prodded, gently shaking her shoulders. “Emma, love. Wake up.”

“I told you,” Pan sighed in a bored yet exasperated tone. “She is unable to respond.”

“What did you do to her?” Killian demanded, his gaze sweeping over her form, working in tandem with his hands as he searched for injuries or any other clue that might explain her comatose condition. Was she still under the effects of the anesthetic she’d been given?

“Careful,” Pan warned in a feigned voice of concern. “She has a number of bruises and abrasions. You wouldn’t want to go and injure her further.”

Killian’s head snapped towards the camera perched over the TV monitor and again demanded, through grit teeth, “What did you do--”

“Oh, don’t look at me,” Pan said. “I had nothing to do with those bruises, or any of the other markings. You did that.”

Killian’s eyes slid back to Emma’s body, and he began to note the marks his mouth had made on her neck, as well as the faint impressions his fingertips had left behind.

“Pan says,” the voice commanded in an accusatory tone, “undress her and take a good look at what you’ve done to her.”

“No,” Killian stated, defiantly. Standing from the bed, where he’d been kneeling next to Swan’s prone body, he took measured steps towards the camera, wagging his finger in its direction. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. “I won’t have you twisting what happened. I know what Emma and I shared the other night and it wasn’t what you’re insinuating.”

“Oh? What was it then?”

“It was magic,” he declared vehemently, with his arms spread in boastful defiance, “And freedom. Full unabated freedom. The kind you experience with someone you trust unequivocally, with whom you can bare yourself in ways you never thought yourself capable. The kind that requires a level of understanding, devotion, and acceptance rarely found between two individuals.”

Each word of defense against Pan’s implied censures was also a much needed reminder to himself of the truth of what he and Emma shared. He would not let this vile monster take from them what they had sought to claim for themselves.

“That’s what Emma and I have and nothing you can say or do is going to change that fact.”

“Oh?” Pan drawled. “Perhaps not,” he stated as the cell door squealed opened and a Lost One sauntered into the room. “But I imagine he can.”

Positioning himself between the Lost One and Emma, still lying helpless on the bed, Killian braced his posture and demanded to know, “What do you mean? What’s he going to do?”

“That depends on you,” Pan replied. “If what you say is true, then surely Emma won’t object to you taking some liberties with her whilst she is currently… indisposed.”

“Liberties?” Killian questioned. Though a sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach had already begun to deduce the madman’s meaning.

“It appeared to me that she took quite a few liberties with you the other night, so I’m simply letting you return the favor. Of course… should you refuse…”

The Lost One’s hands dropped to his waist and he began to loosen his belt, his salacious gaze and a hint of a smug smile peeking out from the mask he wore.

“No! Stop!” When Killian’s words failed to stall the Lost One’s actions, he turned back towards the camera and agreed with Pan’s wishes. “I’ll do as you say. I’ll take whatever liberties you demand, just…” Pointing a stern finger at the Lost One, Killian implored, “Get him out of here!”

The Lost One’s hands balled themselves into fists and he hesitated for a moment after the order from Pan was issued. His eyes fell to Emma, a sinister sort of longing swirling through their brown depths, before he flicked them back up and glared at Killian as he backed out of the cell.

He’d wanted her, Killian realized with a jolt of propriety rage and jealousy. It hadn’t simply been a command he was conditioned to obey that had made him willing to do the unthinkable to Emma. He wanted her, had been eager to have her, even.

Emma’s comments about her exchange with one of the Lost One’s returned to him and he couldn’t help but wonder if the Lost One he’d just encountered had been the same, or… No. She had said the Lost One who had carried him back after being drugged seemed to care for him. That Lost One, the one who had just departed, held nothing but animosity towards Killian. Did that mean…?

If Killian had a connection to the other Lost One, then was this Lost One connected to Emma somehow?

The startling question would have to be left unanswered for the moment. Killian needed to focus on the rules and procedures Pan was currently laying out for his new depraved game.

~/~

It had taken some doing, but Emma had managed to quiet the panic deafening her mind. Being unable to control one’s body, to even open your eyes or utter a sound was the most unnatural and surreal feeling she had ever experienced. The only thing she could seem to manipulate was her breathing, but it also continued to work involuntarily as well.

She’d held her breath in awe against the swell of emotion that had filled her during Killian’s declarations, but it had sped up on its own, almost to the point of hyperventilating when the Lost One had returned and Pan’s intentions had been made clear.

Never doubting that Killian would do whatever he had to in order to keep her safe had not kept her from again holding her breath until the sound of the door screeched closed this last time, ensuring she would not suffer at the hands of some stranger. Now, she attempted to regulate her breathing once more as Pan gave instructions to Killian regarding their new game.

“Of course, I realize that my voice might be a bit of a distraction… a deterrent even. So, you’ll know a new Pan Says has been issued when the lights flicker. You can then receive your next set of instructions from the monitor. Understood?”

“Aye,” Killian clipped out, sounding closer now than he had a moment again. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Excellent,” Pan crowed. “This will be my last vocal command until our game is at an end. Pan says… undress Emma.”

The bed dipped and she could feel Killian’s presence. She longed to reassure him, to look into his eyes and let him know she was alright, that she wouldn’t hold anything he had to do to her against him. All she could do was lie there, though; a limp piece of dead weight he had to roll and reposition without any assistance in order to appease Pan and his perverted commands.

Once the hospital gown had been removed, leaving her thoroughly exposed, Killian returned her to her back and from behind her eyelids she could detect the change in lighting as they dimmed and brightened, signaling a new Pan Says. If she could have scoffed, she would have. Of course he was giving written instructions. Pan knew she was conscious and could hear everything. He didn’t want her to have any forewarning of what was to be done to her, the bastard.

The mattress dipped next to Emma’s head and she felt the scratch of Killian’s beard against her cheek. Inhaling deeply, she let his scent fill her lungs, let its calming balm soothe her racing heart.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered low and soft into her ear. “I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive me for what I must do.”

I already have, she told him, if only in her mind.

Her breath hitched at the feel of his rough tongue caressing the space below her ear. It only took a few swirls and licks for her to process what he was being forced to do, her skin still sore in the places where he had sucked his brand into her flesh during their lovemaking. Pan was making him trace every mark, every bruise, every abrasion Killian had left on her body with nothing more than his tongue.

Pin pricks of wonder rippled across her skin when he reached her breasts. His hot breath preceded the warmth of his mouth as it caressed the scrapes previously left behind from his teeth. She wanted nothing more than to arch her back and encourage him to take her nipples fully into his mouth, but her inability to move was proving torturous in ways she had not considered.

Her stomach, her hips, the insides of her thighs, all points of contact along the front of her he had to trace with his tongue before rolling her onto her stomach. He took extra care and attention to place her arms and head into as comfortable positions as he could before continuing his ministrations down her back. Long, lingering, dampened laves followed the welts and scratches left by his nails and soft flutters caressed the bruises on her hips and buttocks, causing a shiver to run up her spine and a dull ache to begin throbbing from between her legs, which were dangling awkwardly off the bed.

The lights dimmed and brightened again and before Emma had a chance to wonder what Pan’s new demand was, a light smack landed on her backside. The lights flickered again and a slightly harder slap cracked across her ass. When the lights signaled again, the sting of Killian’s palm, firmly making contact with her already reddened and raised flesh, brought tears to her eyes. As did the next strike, and the one after that, and the ones after that. Tears broke free from her lashes, pooling in the crease next to her nose before slipping across her face into the sheet beneath her cheek. Killian’s rough, calloused hand stroked her ass, attempting to soothe some of the pain he’d inflicted. Pain she absolutely did not mind. In fact, she kinda got off on it, and when his fingers dipped between her legs to find her wet and wanting, his groan told her it was a fact he was now aware of as well.

A series of strobing lights had Killian on his knees in front of foot of the bed, his face buried in her folds with his mouth latched to her clit, while his fingers toyed with and probed her holes. He was knuckle deep in her ass, fucking her with his fingers as his tongue assaulted her cunt and she could hear the cries of her body, begging for release, whimpering in her head, unable to convey its desire in any way, shape, or form, which had to be the most maddening experience of her life. When relief finally came, her orgasm slammed through her completely unobstructed with an intensity far greater than any she could ever remember having before. A moan vibrated through her pussy, prolonging her climax, and Emma wondered if, despite her inability to tell him so, Killian could tell she had come from his tongue.

Her breathing was labored, the sound of her blood roared in her ears, and she felt flushed and sated from the tips of her ears to the points of her toes. Unable to vocalize, a groan stuck in her throat when he removed his fingers from her depths and began to roll her over onto her back once more. She hadn’t even noticed the lights indicating a new task.

Attempting to regain her bearings, Emma could hear the rustling of fabric and suspected Killian was taking off his clothes. Her heart rate picked up at the prospect of him being inside her, filling her like he had the other night, and a fresh ache took hold of her core even as she worried about her new unprotected status. With a firm tug, he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed until her ass was practically hanging off the side. Lifting her hips, he wedged a pillow beneath her, raising her pelvis and tilting it up to meet his groin.

She startled when his cock slapped against her clit, not that he would be able to tell. Her skin raised in a ripple of goose flesh when he did it a second and then third time before lining himself up with her entrance and stretching her in that delicious way as he entered her. Grabbing her ankles, he draped them over his shoulders, then wrapped his arms around her legs, holding them tight to his chest as he began to rut his hips into hers. The rhythm he set was punishing, the force of each thrust making her breasts bounce wildly, borderline painfully, as he pistoned deeper and deeper into her. His pace was relentless, slowing down only once several minutes into the assault, when the lights flickered and he presumably glanced over his shoulder to read Pan’s newest command. He fucked her for an indeterminate amount of time after that. Forcefully, savagely, almost brutally.

The sound of their bodies slapping together echoed through the room, as did Killian’s ragged breathing and choked back utterances. Just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he pulled out and let go of her legs, causing one of them to slip off his shoulders. He grunted and cried out as hot streams of his release coated her breasts and stomach. Staccatoed breaths and moans reverberated off the metal walls until he was thoroughly spent, then he brushed a gentle kiss to the inside of her leg before resting his head against it, the sweat of his brow making it a slick point of contact.

“Good boy, Killian,” Pan rasped from overhead, ruining any tenderness Killian had been trying to infuse into the moment.

“Fuck off,” he snapped back, lowering her leg back down while removing the pillow from beneath her.

“Ah, ah,” Pan tutted. “Pan says to leave her as is.”

“Let me at least pull her further up the bed, so she doesn’t slip off onto the floor,” Killian argued.

When Pan did not respond, Killian climbed onto the bed and positioned himself behind her. Grasping under her arms, he hoisted her up the mattress until she was now completely situated on the bed. It shook as he collapsed next to her, his breaths still coming in pants from the extreme exertion he’d put both their bodies through.

She could visualize his face in her mind. Beads of perspiration were probably littering his brow and gathering in the hollow of his throat. His eyes were likely closed, his long lashes resting against his rosy cheeks, which would be nearly as pinked as his lips, red and swollen from the way he’d practically made a meal out of her. She longed to sweep his bangs off his forehead, to run her fingers down his face and trace his lips, allowing him to kiss each tip and tease them with his tongue.

As they lay there a tingling began to work its way through the numbness. Small jerks and spasms rippled through her extremities, exacerbating the soreness in her tender places. A groan made its way past her lips and she was finally able to pry her eyes open. She could feel Killian roll towards her, concern and guilt swimming in his eyes as his face came into view overhead.

“Swan?”

“K-Killian,” she croaked, attempting to raise her hand so she could cup his face, but it wouldn’t cooperate.

“Don’t try and move,” he said, making his way off the bed and into the bathroom. “I have to… you’ll need to…”

Unable to finish his thought, it wasn’t until she was finally able to turn her head and saw him return with a wet washcloth that she realized what he was struggling to tell her.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, trying to work up the necessary saliva to wet and clear her throat. “I know. I was conscious the whole time.”

“You… What?”

When she tried to sit up, he climbed back onto the bed, stalling her actions and encouraging her to lie back while he cleaned her up.

“Yeah, they injected me with… something. I don’t know what,” she explained, enjoying the feel of the damp cloth as it ran over her breasts and across her stomach, wiping away the now dried-on mess. “I couldn’t move or speak, but I was aware of everything. Could hear and… feel everything.”

Killian’s face pinched in a pained expression, and she could practically feel the guilt rolling off him. “I’m so sorry, Swan. I--”

“Hey,” she soothed, taking his hand. “It’s okay. You have to know that no matter how deranged or depraved, I’d rather it be you doing those things to me than--”

“Aye, I do… it’s just...”

“What?”

The muscle along his jaw tightened, causing a small spasm to ripple beneath his skin. Unable to meet her gaze, he confessed with a heavy dose of shame and penitence, “I enjoyed it.” His voice was little more than an exhale. If he’d been any further away, she likely wouldn’t have heard him at all. After a long pause he finally worked up the courage to look at her as he continued, “I didn’t want to. I only wanted to get it over with, but I… I started to enjoy it and--”

“Killian,” Emma sweetly admonished. “Do you really think I’d fault you for that? Do you think I was suffering the whole time? Because believe me… I wasn’t.” He offered her a small smile, but still didn’t seem convinced. Squeezing his hand more tightly, she added, “I will never hold my bringing you pleasure against you, no matter the circumstances. Every time there’s been intimacy between us, I’ve enjoyed it, at least on some level. Every. Time. Don’t ever forget that. Don’t ever forget those beautiful words you said to Pan about us.”

His eyes widened, perhaps realizing for the first time that she had been conscious for that part as well.

“I meant every word,” he assured her. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty for the things I’ve done to you. Even though you say you enjoyed it, I see the bruises I left, from both the other night and the ones forming from my actions from only moments ago, and I hate myself for causing you pain.”

Stronger now, she sat up and cupped his face. “I won’t pretend I’m not sore, but… being with you is hands down the best sex of my life, and I would do it all again in a heartbeat.”

His eyes flickered between hers, reading the truth in her gaze and causing a more genuine smile to bloom from his face.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he replied on a heavy, relieved breath. Then a smirk lifted the corner of his mouth and with a raised brow he cheeked, “Though, given what you’ve told me of your past sexual encounters, that isn’t really saying much.”

She laughed and slapped his shoulder before falling into his arms, surrendering into his embrace as they clung to each other for several minutes. It wasn’t until after they’d broken apart, with him helping her off the bed so they could both get dressed, that a sobering thought occurred to her.

“You know,” she said, uncomfortably clearing her throat as she pulled her pants up over her hips, “given what I know of your past… I’ll understand if you don’t feel the same. About the sex, I mean. Well, that and--”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, interrupting her before she could mention Milah, the love he had lost and practically ruined his life for. “I loved Milah and we had many wonderful experiences together, but,” he took her hands in his and gazed at her in a way she thought she might drown in those blue depths, “nothing as ever amazing as… this.”

Guiding her back to the bed, they sat on its edge and he further confided, “I think Milah and I always had a part of ourselves held back from the other. Regardless of how we felt, we knew it was wrong. We knew we weren’t free to truly love one another, and since having met you, I’ve come to realize something.”

“What?”

Flicking up his gaze, he said something she never would have expected. “How alike her husband and I truly were.”

Emma blanched. “What do you mean?”

Running his thumb over the backs of her knuckles, he paused for a long moment. Emma could tell this revelation was not easy for him. Perhaps he was still trying to find a way to verbalize it. Sensing he needed time, she waited patiently for him to continue.

“She belonged to him. That’s what he always said,” he relayed, haltingly, from the memories he was dredging up. “She belonged to him. Her husband.” Pulling himself back into the here and now, he focused on her once more and a sad smile ghosted across his lips. “Milah used to assure me that despite the fact she was married, she belonged to me, and I took that to heart. I started to feel like she did belong to me, and I was wrong for doing so. Not because she was married, but because… a woman should not belong to anyone. She was not an object to possess, anymore than you are.” His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his attention turned towards the door of their cell. “He thought you were his to possess. I see that now.”

“Who?”

“The Lost One who came in here when Pan threatened to have another fulfill his demented wishes.”

Her gasp pulled his attention back towards her, and she felt as though her heart might hammer its way out of her chest as he told her, “I think he has a connection to you, Swan. Like the other Lost One has towards me. I think you know him, because I am certain he knows you.”

“How?” she asked, breathlessly. “How do you know--”

“He wanted you,” Killian begrudgingly told her. “But more than that, it was like he felt he had a right to have you. I could see a longing in his eyes, as though he knew… knew what having you would be like.”

Emma opened her mouth to respond, her mind racing with the implications of Killian’s words, but before she could say anything he took her face in his hands and the look in his eyes stole her breath away.

“You may have given me your consent. You might even think I had a right to do what I did in obeying Pan’s rules in order to safeguard your body and your dignity, but you do not belong to me, Swan. You are not mine to do with as I wish.” Pressing his forehead to hers, he murmured, “But I hope you might feel as though you belong with me, as I feel I belong with you. That we belong together, not to each other.” Swallowing thickly, he pulled back and softly whispered, “I love you, Emma.” Then captured her lips before she could reply.

Part Eight

#csff #cs ff #cs fic #cs au #pan says... #heed the warnings #words by hollye

[vanfleeter]

Matched (sneak peek)

When I met her, I found myself immediately attracted to her. Pathetic, I know. There was just something about her that drew me to her. Her eyes sparkle when she’s happy but show utter despair when she’s not. I fear if a flower were to look upon her sadness, it would wilt. But the life that shines through when she’s happy is like bathing in the sunlight, warm and comfortable. Her smile is contagious, you can’t help but smile when she does. Her laugh is melodious, like a song you want to listen to over and over again and never tire of hearing it. Her hair, long and dark as it flows over her shoulders and halfway down the spine of her back. Her skin lights me on fire in the best possible way. I crave to feel her skin against mine, tracing my fingers along her skin, tracing every curve and goosebump that raises as I make my mark on her.

I thought I was shit out of luck when I found out that Sam liked her too. Pursued her in every possible way until he finally got her to agree to go out on a date with him. I kept my distance whenever she came around, looked away when he’d kiss her. I tried to keep myself distracted from her, dated around–but no one compared to her. No was like her. I thought of her whenever I had myself buried inside of another woman. She consumed my thoughts at every waking hour, she even infiltrated my dreams.

Seeing her with Sam physically pained me. Did she make him feel the same way she makes me feel? Did he get butterflies whenever he saw her? Did his heart pound in his chest when she was near? Would his palms get sweaty? Did he ever stutter over his words when he spoke with her because of how nervous she makes him?

I would do anything to have her–but she’s with my brother. I can’t do that to him. I can’t be selfish, wanting her all to myself. He seems to genuinely like her, her him. He’s happy, and I don’t want to be the one to ruin that.

Fate, though, seemed to have different plans.

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#jake kiszka #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fic #gvf #matched #sneak peek #new series coming soon

[highqueenofelfhame]

rowaelin // 5.3k words // ciwyw mastlist // playlist // masterlist

It had been a frustrating day to begin with. After failing to sleep for more than a collective two hours the night before, Rowan had tried to carry on with his day like he would any other Sunday. The conversation with Aelin, and more importantly her response, pounding with every slap of his shoes against the treadmill. Not even a full leg-day workout could dispel the dreadful, anxious energy brewing at the forefront of his mind. 

Lorcan had showed up at the house early in the afternoon and chewed his ass out for the red card. He was fully in Team Captain mode for the full lecture, barely letting Rowan get a word in edgewise. At some point he gave up on defending himself and let Lorcan get his rant out. Once he was finished, he’d flopped onto Rowan’s couch and gestured vaguely with his hands.

“Alright. Your turn. Talk about it.”

“I already told you I was sor–” He’d started, hands bracing his knees as he debated groveling on his knees for Lorcan to let up. It had been a long enough weekend and he couldn’t handle another half hour. Sure, he deserved being called a stupid, selfish bastard, but he was tired. There wasn’t much left for him to say other than he was sorry, and he’d already done that multiple times.

“I’m not talking about the match. The girl. Something’s bothering you, so talk. The other idiots aren’t here to give you shit about it.” The man had a point. Without everyone else there to make subtle digs, it was easier for him to nod his head and dive headfirst into the clusterfuck of a situation he was in with Aelin. 

To his credit, Lorcan listened to every word until it was all laying before them like a jigsaw puzzle. The pieces were hard to put together because there were about a million of them, all tiny, and several of them were missing entirely. Rowan couldn’t find the corners and didn’t know which way was up or down. Lorcan listened anyway. The migraine that had been coming on for the last few hours hit in full force when Lorcan compared it all to a fucking onion. 

“Give her space. Give her time. The shit with Lyria is a lot to unpack on its own. Add into it that you’ve found yourself in a similar, however different, situation with Aelin… it would be a lot for anyone. It’s an onion, mate. Shit has fucking layers to it.” Rowan had given him a flat look that caused Lorcan to raise his hands in front of his chest. “I’m just saying. Might also be a lesson to check the expirations on those rubbers before you use them, too. Twice in one lifetime? You are one unlucky bastard.”

“You’re not helping,” Rowan glowered, eyes narrowed into little slits. Even if it was good advice, it didn’t do him a lick of good at this point. So much for not getting any shit about this.

“What brand did you use? I need to avoid those fuckers like the plague.”

“Lorcan,” Rowan sighed exasperatedly, all ten fingers raking through his hair until it was a mess of tangles. 

“Just give her the space she asked for, Ro. She told you what to do. So do it.”

“It’s hard to give her space when I just want to be with her all the time,” he finally admitted, slumping back against the sofa. The position did nothing to help the throbbing in his head, but he didn’t move. 

“I really need to meet this woman if she has you, of all people, wound so tight you look like you’re about to explode,” Lorcan said with the shake of his head. “Do you think she’s worth all the trouble?” 

Rowan didn’t have to think about it. The answer was a huge, resounding yes. She was worth fighting for. He said as much and Lorcan nodded, eyes focused on the empty fireplace. 

“For what it’s worth… I’ve never seen you as happy as you are when you talk about her. Don’t get me wrong, until she cuts you a break and gives you a real chance, she’s on my shit-list. But she makes you happy. I’ve never seen you this way about a woman and I think… I think she pulls out the best parts of you.” Lorcan’s confession made Rowan’s chest feel a little tight. “Except for when she’s the reason you’re so pissed off you get carded.”

They had both shared a quiet laugh at that, then spent the rest of the evening sipping beer and watching the major sports channels for highlights of the other games that happened over the weekend. 

Hours later, Rowan truly was about to explode. Sleep was already hard to find despite scouring every drawer and pocket in his brain. When his phone pinged, hope had swelled that it was Aelin. As much as he loved to see her smiling face lighting up his phone, it was not what he had in mind. 

Rowan Whitethorn liked to think of himself as a man with self control and reason. Amongst his teammates he was known for being level-headed, someone that thought things through and didn’t jump the gun. To his core, he always had been those things– until he met Aelin Galathynius, and he was unraveling quicker than a dropped spool of thread. 

You know, the one that rolled under the bed and there was no hope of getting it back unless you kept pulling on the string. The spool would re-emerge from the shadows once the thread was in a mess of a knot at your feet and there was absolutely no hope of getting it wrapped back around its little home neatly. In fact, you might even scrap the whole thing and throw it in the garbage because the reward didn’t outweigh the tedious task at hand. 

Rowan felt like that unraveled spool of thread as he stared at his phone screen at two in the morning, the simple plastic phone case groaning under the pressure of his white-knuckled grip. The edges of his vision were hazy because he hadn’t blinked a single time since he saw the picture that Fenrys sent him. 

Mala fucking help him, he was going to murder his teammate. A brutal, bloody murder. Rowan had never been so sure that he was going to end up in fucking jail. 

Aelin was radiant– something that had been missing from her the last time he saw her. The woman in the picture was exactly the woman that had ripped his heart from his chest before he even knew what was happening. The more muted version he’d had over the weekend still held his throbbing, bleeding heart. But the woman beaming in the photo was the one who stole it in the first place. 

Her hair was down, the golden waves cascading over her shoulders and out of frame. With rose-kissed cheeks and plump, sensual lips spread wide in one of the smiles she used to give him, she was devastating. A little tipsy from his afternoon with Lorcan, Rowan had to physically restrain himself from tracing the shape of her mouth with his fingers. Gods, when did he become such a sap?

The first photo was just her. A tiny cocktail straw was between her teeth, eyes closed from the force of her smile. Her eyelashes seemed to graze the top of her cheeks they were so long. Because of the angle of the photo, taken from a lower, upturned angle, one of the golden lightbulbs gave her a halo. It was fitting, because she was a fucking angel. 

>> She’s even more beautiful in person. 

Rowan knew that. He was well aware of how fucking beautiful she was. But why did Fenrys know that? Why was he discovering the truth of it at two in the godsdamn morning? 

>> What the fuck? 

<< I mean, if you’re not going to, she should get it from somewhere. You haven’t had sex in her bed yet, have you?

>> Fenrys I swear to the fucking gods if you touch her I’m not responsible for what happens to your face.

The picture that followed made him want to throw his phone across the room and hope it shattered into a million pieces he couldn’t put back together. Someone across the table had taken it, probably Connall if he had to guess. Aelin’s arm was around Fenrys’s neck and they were cheek to cheek with matching smiles. Mischief was wild in Fen’s eyes while Aelin just looked… happy. 

And then he noticed, just at the edge of the picture, how low on her hip his godsdamn hand was and he thought he was going to lose his mind. Yep. He was definitely going to be arrested for homicide in a few hours. The mugshot would be in every newspaper in the country, across the world, and he didn’t care. 

>> She’s just wearing minty lip balm. My face will be nothing but hydrated and tasty.

<< You motherfucker

>> Well… not yet 😉

And then Fenrys stopped replying. 

The self-control and level-headedness he had once prided himself in was nowhere to be seen. He tried to pull on the thread of his sanity, to tell himself it didn’t matter, that all of this was fine. Yet every time he looked back at the screen, every muscle and tendon in his body was so taught it felt as though one movement would have them all in ribbons. 

Rowan hadn’t ever had a relationship where he felt the need to protect as much as he did with Aelin. Maybe it was partially because of the baby, but a roaring silence filled his head at the thought of her with another man, least of all Fenrys fucking Moonbeam. If Fenrys respected any kind of friendship code, he wouldn’t even act like he was thinking about toeing that line. 

It felt stupid. They were barely dating and only knew the tip of the iceberg with each other. Still, there was something so different with her. For the first time in almost a decade, he had let his guard down. There were no mile high cement walls around his heart with nowhere to grasp to climb up and over. He was just Rowan, an unopened book with unexplored pages begging to be read.  

It was highly unlikely that he was the only person that found himself inexplicably drawn to her. She was sweeter and more intoxicating than any drug, than any brand of alcohol money could buy.  Aelin Galathynius had the energy of someone that you just wanted to taste once, because once she was gone you wouldn’t experience anything like her ever again. Coming so close to losing her, Rowan was keenly aware of that fact, and he wasn’t sure how he would ever move on if they didn’t really give themselves the chance to explore it. They were opposite ends of two very strong magnets. It was impossible that she didn’t feel that, too. 

Rowan Whitethorn didn’t open up to just anybody. He didn’t let people in. Aelin wasn’t just a fluke. He was absolutely sure of it. 

The thoughts wouldn’t stop chattering through his brain. Words flashed behind his closed eyelids a thousand miles a minute, leaving nothing but explosions of stars and colors where he tried to rub them away. Every time he looked at his phone, the desire to get in his car and drive to Aelin’s grew stronger and stronger. It was becoming an itch that he couldn’t he couldn’t ignore, and once the sun finally started to peek in through his blinds, he was rolling out of bed and nearly running to shower and change clothes. 

By the time eight rolled around, he had forced a small bowl of cereal down his throat and downed what was probably too many cups of coffee. By eight-fifteen, Rowan was in his car and speeding toward the highway to Varese with something that belonged to Aelin sitting in his front seat. 

~*~

Rowan felt… Well, he felt insane. 

Not for the first time, he was asking himself what the fuck he was doing as he knocked on the door to Aelin’s apartment. At several red lights through the city, he debated going home. Halfway up the staircase, he had paused and gone down three steps, only to turn around and march right back up and to her door. The echoing of his fist on the wood had him hesitating once again, wondering if he should just get in his car and go home. He had no clue what he was doing here, besides just needing to see her and make sure that both she and the baby were okay, regardless of her late night activities. 

That’s what he was telling himself, anyway. 

In the ten agonizing seconds it took for him to head footsteps from inside her apartment, he almost turned and bolted. Rowan was well aware that he was being a territorial fool. Evidently there was no reasoning with that very stupid and very irrational part of his brain, even as the clicking and sliding of locks had him wondering how quickly he could make it down a flight of stairs without being caught. 

“Oh,” came her surprised voice, wide eyes and raised brows to match. It was his very favorite version of Aelin that opened the door. All of her golden hair was in a messy knot on the top of her head, a few pieces framing her face. Much to his satisfaction, he realized she was wearing the shirt he’d told her she could keep a few days prior. A pair of little black shorts peeked out from the hem, and the long expanse of her bare legs had him almost forgetting why he was there in the first place. “What are you doing here?”

Her voice brought his eyes back to her face. There was no evidence of the makeup she’d had on the night before and though he could tell by looking at her that she was exhausted, he could also see that she had at least a few hours of good sleep. The skin around her eyes was a little puffy and a few lines were tattooed on her cheeks from her pillow or the blanket. 

“Did I wake you up?”

“No, no. I’ve been awake for like half an hour. Just haven't gotten to dragging myself out of bed yet since I’m not going to the office today.” Right. It was Monday. In his hazy stupor, Rowan had entirely forgotten that she should have been going to work.

“Are you too sick today?” Rowan was immediately on edge, searching her face and body for any sign of what would keep her from working. There was no point– she was downright glowing today. A healthy blush heated her cheeks and he could almost make out the small smattering of freckles across her nose from where he stood across the threshold. 

“No,” she said simply. “I feel really good today, actually. You didn’t answer me. What are you doing here, Rowan?”

“You forgot your toothbrush at my house,” he said lamely, patting at his pockets. Fuck. “It was purple? I left it in my car.”

“I did leave it at your house because that’s the one you bought for me to keep there.” There was laughter in her words as she spoke, like she was bringing up an inside joke they’d made. Mirth danced in her brilliant turquoise eyes despite her face contorting with confusion as she asked again, her tone softer this time, “What are you doing here, Rowan?”

What a loaded fucking question. He sure as hell didn’t know. How many times on the way here had he asked himself the same thing? 

He didn’t have to answer it directly, though, because he realized her shower was running down the hall. Before he could stop himself he blurted, “Is that Fenrys?” 

“Fen– what?” There was so much disbelief in her voice, but she started laughing. “You drove all the way up here to see if Fenrys spent the night with me?” 

Rowan wasn’t sure if the laughter was a good thing or a bad thing. It was impossible to tell if she was laughing at him for being so stupid he thought he had any right to know about her private life when he wasn’t around, or if she was laughing because the idea was so stupid and he had nothing to be worried about. He was inclined to think it was the former, because even though Fenrys liked to rile him up, he didn’t know if he would push Rowan quite so hard.

“Hey, bub? You hungry?” A voice, one that was distinctly not Fenrys’s shouted from the bathroom. In that one, tiny pet name, Rowan’s entire heart sank through the floor. If he looked down, he was sure he would be standing in a puddle of his own blood. The world had gone very quiet, his fingers suddenly freezing as he stuffed them into his pockets.

“Yes,” she called back, her eyes not leaving Rowan’s face.

Aelin was seeing someone else. It wasn’t a thought that had ever occurred to him until those texts from Fenrys, but now it was glaringly obvious. She had already said once that their relationship wasn’t supposed to turn into anything serious. Had she been seeing other men the whole time? It wasn’t like they’d ever talked about being exclusive in any shape or form. They had plenty of time away from each other. He never would have known. It couldn’t even be considered cheating. 

“Rowan,” she said, bottom lip tucked between her teeth to swallow her smile.

“I’ll… I’m sorry. I’ll let you get back to the guy in the shower,” he half-mumbled, crossing his arms to hide his shaking hands. 

And then she was well and truly laughing. It was a bright, melodious sound that under any other circumstance, he would have loved to pull out of her, to bottle up and get drunk on it whenever he pleased.. But right here, right now? Rowan was fucking gutted, and she was giggling like he’d said the funniest thing in the world. 

Rowan had just turned to start walking away when she collected herself enough to say, “You mean my cousin?” 

Time stopped. His blood was pumping in reverse to turn back the clock, to take everything he’d just said and wipe it from existence. Even his movements felt slower as he looked at her, fire licking up his neck and covering his face. The tips of his ears would be nearly purple and if he walked out into the humid air, his body would be steaming. She could probably feel the heat of his body from where she stood in the doorway. 

Rowan had never been so fucking embarrassed in his entire life. 

“Yeah, I– I am so sorry. I’ll talk to you later,” he grumbled, turning on his heel to make his swift exit and go die in peace. Recovery wasn’t an option. There was absolutely no coming back from this. 

~*~

The plan with Fenrys had either gloriously backfired, or he put much more into the prank than expected. She made a mental note to text him about that later, but there wasn’t time for that now. 

Aelin stepped through the door and caught Rowan’s hand before he was too far away. He felt feverish, like his immune system was trying to burn out the embarrassment before it could settle too much. It took a lot of tugging but he stopped trying to escape her presence. His footsteps were heavy on the old wood floors as she dragged him back toward her apartment.

“I really just want to go,” he told her, tattooed fingers sliding through his hair. It was down for once, not braided or tied out of his face. 

“Look at me.” But he wouldn’t. Green eyes stayed glued to a spot well above her head, looking at anything but her. Yes, it had been funny that he thought that Aedion was a random hookup. But the devastation on his face had done nothing but wreck her in return. The laughter was partially an involuntary response to an awkward situation, but also because it was cute that he was so worried about it. Rowan had absolutely nothing to be worried about. 

“Aelin–” The more she reached for him, the more he leaned away. He took one step back and she took one forward, refusing to let him leave while so upset. Aelin reached up, her cool hands resting on his warm cheeks as she gently guided his face to look at her. Before he could protest or slip further from her grasp, she rocked up onto her tiptoes and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. All ten of his fingers were shaking when they came to rest on her hips and it broke her heart. 

“Take a breath,” she whispered, sliding her hands down his neck and over his chest. Rowan’s eyes were still closed as he rested his warm forehead against her own, but he obeyed. “Fenrys was just fucking with you. Clearly he took it way too far and I am so sorry. We will most definitely be having words about that.” 

Before he could respond, from the depths of her apartment Aedion once again shouted for her and Rowan’s hands flexed on her hips. Aelin sighed and grabbed his hands, walking backwards with him until they were inside. Her fingertips were able to reach around him to push the door shut, sealing him inside with her. 

“Aedion, can you shut the fuck up and come out here and talk to me like a normal person? You’re freaking out my boyfriend and he’s been through enough for today.” Aedion’s hurried footsteps down the hall and the click of his door shutting was the only response she was given, likely to hurry and dress for their sudden company. 

Rowan looked inclined to agree with her sentiments, but didn’t say anything as she walked to the kitchen to get him some water. There was something off about him, and not just because of the trauma Fenrys had inflicted on him, nor the embarrassment that still stained his cheeks. He seemed almost… dim. All of the energy he’d had mere moments ago was vanishing before her eyes. His posture was a deflated balloon hovering inches from the ground a week after the party. 

“Are you hungry?” She asked, taking his hand and guiding him to the couch. Rowan shrugged as she nudged for him to sit in the corner while she curled onto the middle cushion beside him, her legs leaning against his thigh. If anything, she hoped it would ground him from the hell he’d been dragged through in the last few hours. “When was the last time you slept?”

Rowan exhaled, his cheeks puffing out with the gust of air. Dark circles haunted the skin beneath his eyes, which were bloodshot, making the green of them all the more piercing. Aelin frowned at his lack of response, tugging on his sleeve until he looked at her. 

“The fact that it’s taking you so long to figure it out tells me enough.” As though they couldn’t help themselves, despite her telling him she needed space, her traitorous fingers reached out and brushed his hair out of his eyes. 

“It’s been a few days,” He admitted, attempting to rub the tiredness away with his thumb and forefinger. “And my head is fucking killing me.”

“Let’s eat some breakfast and then we can nap, yeah? I’d tuck you in right now but I’m starving and I think you probably need to eat a bit, too.” 

A crease appeared between his eyebrows, lips pursing into a line as he looked over at her and said, “Is that… okay? You said you wanted space. I’m not exactly giving it to you by showing up like this.” 

“Considering I’ve barely been awake for an hour and could already use a nap, I’m going to go with yes. Besides, I do want you to meet Aedion while he’s here.” Thank the gods, his lips quirked into a small smile. Relief fluttered through her chest. She had never been so happy to see somebody smile at her before. 

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, however, Aedion’s door opened and he appeared in the archway to the hall. Aelin looked over at her cousin with a look that threatened violence if he tried the man beside her even a little too hard. Much to her surprise, Aedion gave a short nod before walking closer to the couch.

“Aedion, meet Rowan. Rowan, this is Aedion.” Aelin was a little surprised that Rowan mustered the muscle power to stand and shake hands. “Rowan is very tired so save the groveling for later, please.”

“I think you should be telling him to save my ass-kicking for later,” Rowan amended, sitting back on the couch. Aelin grinned as he looked over at her. “I can assume you told him what I’ve done.” 

“And that you’re very sorry,” she added sweetly, but her glance at Aedion was sharp as a dagger. Though his mouth had opened, likely to throw his own little quip into the sparring ring, it shut immediately.

“We’ll talk about it another time,” Aedion said simply, dropping onto the sofa beside Aelin with enough force that she bounced. She scowled at him, her hand immediately going to cover her stomach. “What are we eating?” 

Half an hour later they had brunch delivered to the apartment, the three of them sitting knee to knee on the couch. The sofa in question had been chosen for the luxurious aesthetic it provided, but she made a mental note to look at sectionals. There was no way she could have any other visitors with only this and the overstuffed chair in the corner for seating. 

Though he said a few things here and there, most of the conversation was Aelin and Aedion’s casual banter. While they did talk a little bit about the game he was carded in and what he expected for the rest of the season, as the conversation went on Rowan seemed to keep drawing further and further into himself. His broad shoulders were caved in and that wrinkle between his eyebrows got deeper and deeper. It looked like it was taking an astronomical amount of effort to keep his eyes open.

When they finished, Aelin and Rowan settled back against the couch while Aedion cleaned everything up. She had intended to just check a few emails before getting Rowan to bed, but he dozed comically fast. The email was half-read when she locked her phone and contemplated the best way to wake him gently. 

“This is the man that got the first red-card of his career for being so fucking pissed on Friday?” Aedion asked incredulously. 

“So it would seem.”

“You’ve never seen him play–” But Aelin cut him off with a shake of her head.

“I have. I watched the game until he got kicked out and then drove to Doranelle.”

“Before that,” his hand cut through the air, dismissing her. Aelin gave him a flat look before looking back at the man snoozing beside her. “He’s a demon, Aelin. When he’s on the field every move is calculated and with purpose. His face is always harsh and his body is always locked and loaded for the next play. Yet here he is, falling asleep on your couch with his mouth open. He might start drooling.” Aedion put his hands on his knees and leaned forward to get a closer look. 

Aelin grinned, eyes cutting back to Aedion. She couldn’t help it. “Be nice, he’s getting old.”

She knew it was true. Ever since uncovering the truth about his job, she had spent an embarrassing amount of time watching highlight videos of his career online. Every photo she saw that was snapped mid-match, his face was all hard lines and angles like he was in the middle of a battlefield fighting for his life. On the soccer pitch, he looked like a warrior that had been honed for battle. Here, on her couch asleep,  he just looked like Rowan. The real Rowan, and she was pretty sure not many people saw this side of him. 

“He looks younger like this,” he observed, eyes squinting as if he could see the soccer persona in his face if he tried hard enough. It was nowhere to be seen, though.

“Probably because he isn’t awake to frown at me.”

“Yeah, no way this is the same guy that fought his way to a red-card before halftime,” Aedion concluded. Aelin snorted, her hand flying to her mouth to muffle the sound. Rowan didn’t so much as twitch. 

“I’m pretty sure he almost cried when he heard you yell at me from the bathroom. He thought…” Involuntary giggles bubbled through her chest and out of her mouth, “He thought you were a hookup from last night.”

“That’s gross.” Aedion’s lips were downturned as he straightened, arms folding across his chest. “He almost cried?”

“That’s where it gets not-so- funny. Whatever Fenrys said to him really fucked him up.” She sighed then, reaching to trace his cheekbone with her fingertip. Rowan did stir then, eyes blinking rapidly as he took in a brute of a man staring down at him curiously and the feeling of Aelin’s skin on his. “Come on. Let’s go take a nap.”

In the most adorable protest of the century, Rowan started grumbling incoherently in the old language. Aelin smiled, only catching a few words here and there that equated to him insisting he wasn’t tired and they could nap later. His eyes betrayed him. They were heavy, blinking slowly and trying to roll back in his head. 

“This is one argument you sure as hell aren’t going to win.” Aelin pulled him to his feet and guided him to her room. When she plopped him onto the edge of the bed his protesting started up again. 

“What’s in it for me?” Sleepy, bleary eyes looked up at her as he refused to lay down. Aelin was standing between his legs with her hands on his shoulders, an eyebrow cocked to silently tell him he was being ridiculous.

“Besides sleeping for the first time in a couple days?” Rowan nodded, his fingertips grazing up her thighs and settling on her hips. She laughed, pushing his hair behind his ears. They would definitely be talking about his sleepless nights later.  “What do you want?”

“A kiss, please.” His response was so immediate it made her heart play hopscotch in her chest. Sleepy Rowan might just be her favorite thing in the entire world. Not even cotton candy could make her feel so light and sweet. 

“Okay, deal,” Aelin leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead. Rowan swore in the old language but laid flat on his back and let her pull the blankets over his body. 

“Should have been more specific,” he mumbled, pulling on her hand until she crawled over him to the other side of the bed and nestled into the sheets beside him. She let him pull her close until they were pressed flush together. A weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying fell from her shoulders,  replaced by his arms around her body. Aelin didn’t pull away but snuggled into him as much as she could, her face against his chest as she deeply inhaled the scent that was so completely Rowan. The scent that was home. 

“You should have,” she agreed, but Rowan was already asleep.

@elentiyawhitethornn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @bellasbookboyfriends @icantfindmychashma

#ciwyw #call it what you want #ciwyw8 #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #baby fic #rowaelin baby fic #rowaelin fanfiction #rowaelin fic #tog #throne of glass #throne of glass fanfiction #tog fanfiction #rowaelin fanfic #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #lorcan salvaterre #fenrys moonbeam #connall moonbeam #aedion ashryver #lysandra ennar

[hcneygemini]

sentence starters from my wip fics, pt. I

please do not add to this list nor repost the list as your own. tw: mentions of murder + attempted murder.

I just fell for that, didn’t I?

Is it because you like me so much?

I bet you regret this now.

Your heart’s pounding.

You’re too empty headed to know much of anything.

Oh, come on! I know something about seduction.

I know you’ve never heard of it, but some people have friends.

I don’t wanna hang out with the dork gang, though. Just you.

Yeah, well I’m an asshole, so we’re even.

I couldn’t sleep because you weren’t there.

Is that your way of flirting?

You’ve never gone to these lengths before.

You can be a real smart ass sometimes, you know?

I wanna see a different side of you today.

You made one mistake though—you didn't disarm me.

Kiss me.

You’re definitely not boring.

What are you thinking about?

We have to learn to confront it at some point.

Can you wait to kill me until I finish breakfast?

What’s the matter? Jealous?

I’ve never been more serious in my life.

[ Name ] won’t shut up about you.

Stop pretending to be mad.

It’s part of my evil plan.

I’m not repeating anything [ name ] told me in confidence.

You shouldn’t be so vulgar.

We both know we’re not a couple.

You can’t keep just walking away.

Stop being corny, I’m tired.

You look peaceful when you sleep.

I don’t think you think I’m serious. But I’m always serious!

I didn’t go looking for this.

I don’t like trusting people.

Please keep your feet off of my desk.

Wow, you’re so stoic and unafraid of threats!

How much of anything was real?

Was this the truth you wanted?

Past me had shitty taste.

You're so much more than that.

So, we were lied to.

This is really pathetic, you know.

Why should I go anywhere with you?

I have some ideas, but you have to trust me.

I see your cruelty's still intact.

Shit, you're really pale.

Would you stop trying to leech off of the traumatized children?

I don't have time to detail the extent of my work to you.

Why can’t you just talk to me like a normal person?

Yeah, well, I can deal with my shit myself.

Isn’t everyone so much happier without me around, stirring the pot?

I’m tired. Can your love confession wait until tomorrow?

No good deeds go unpunished, or whatever.

I got two people killed… er, technically maybe three.

Tell me another one of your preachy, boring life lessons!

Careful, I can hear the cogs turning in your head from here.

No one here is ‘okay.’

You didn’t have to come, you know.

We both know what I did.

Don’t give me some shit about ‘finding yourself’ and ‘healing.'

Hey, don’t think of it as bribing! Think of it as… a reward for putting my best foot forward.

Jeez, am I the only topic of the rumor mill?

You fell asleep on me.

I guess movie night is a good sedative.

I think I did something. Something bad.

Why do you have to make a joke out of everything?

You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.

Why were you so out of it last night?

You know, they’re not so bad if you would just get to know them.

Hey, where the fuck have you been?

Why would I forgive someone who tried to kill me?

Well, shit happens!

You’re either plotting to kill me in my sleep or you’re in love with me.

Are you asking me to stargaze with you?

Life doesn’t need to have some big meaning, I guess. I mean, I’m happy right now.

I come with tidings!

It's a cake that says, 'Sorry for trying to have you murdered!'

I can’t trust your big mouth.

What do you do when you disappear during the day?

I’ve never exactly been in a relationship.

At least take me out before talking about commitment.

Why do you spend time with me?

I’m learning more about you. The real you. And I… like [ them / her / him ].

Wow, you’re lame as shit.

Wait, so you’re seducing me by accident?

You two really like each other, huh?

Wow, your voice is so sexy in the morning.

#rp meme #roleplay meme #sentence starters #inbox meme #rp prompts #violence mention tw #murder mention tw

[whoseyscientist]

BEST BATMAN FICS I’VE READ 3 BRUCE WAYNE FOCUSED

Hihoo Here’s some more crazy good batman fics with a particular focus on the sad angsty man in the bat suit because I love him so! Mix of gen/batfam and shipping stuff cause I just wish him well in life c:

As I was making this list I realised alot of them were one-shots huh the more you know- mix of mainly one-shots and the occasional epic lengths lol

= General/ Batfam =

Nominal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8613352

Don't ask why Batman is sad unless you're willing to give him the time to consult his spreadsheet.

(legitimately?? funniest batman fic I’ve ever read, one-shot) 

The Jason Project

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899613

Jason had just wanted to see his autopsy report, he had only wanted to know what information Bruce had about his death. And when Bruce hadn't given it to him, he had stolen it. He hadn’t meant to stumble upon the bucket list of a dead child and the footage of a grieving father crossing one item after another off the list.

(^ short, sweet and very emotional)

More Precious Than Gold

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273611/chapters/30371190

Most dragons sleep on their hoards.

Bruce's hoard sleeps on him.

Or: Bruce is a dragon. Predictably, he hoards orphans.

(so, so goddamn cute, two shot)

Manor-Dad lets me drive the Batmobile

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19002637/chapters/45125308

Bruce had two options when Dick found the Cave. 1) Tell him the truth. 2) Go along with Dick’s excited “You’re dating Batman!” until he figured out the truth.

Several children later Bruce wished he’d gone with option 1) or he wouldn’t have to deal with all his kids believing he and Batman were separate people. Yes, even Damian.

(Unfinished but still so very funny, crazy good fic)

dad time

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20434550

five times the justice league misinterpreted batman's actions + one time they absolutely did not

(Bruce just proudly showing off his kids in League business is so canon lmao, one shot, also this author in general has some quality batfam content legit)

Cingulomania (Sometimes, Dad Needs a Hug)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29690424#main

‘Right,’ Tim said, in the voice he used on missions, ‘we’re going to have to call in an expert.’ * ‘Hey guys!’ Dick said, voice slightly crackly over Tim’s phone speakers. ‘What’s up? I’m not supposed to visit until tomorrow - is something wrong?’ - Something is seriously not right with Bruce. They’re a family of detectives and no one can figure it out. It’s kind of embarrassing.

They’re all starting to get worried. - (Sometimes, Bruce needs a hug.)

(^ Feeding my bruce is touch starved agenda quite nicely, one shot)

A Hero Lost

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40358904/chapters/101096682#workskin

When Jason Todd died on that fateful April day, Bruce was tempted to just... stop. To let the world know he was Batman, and that it'd just lost a hero in Jason Todd.

And so he did.

It didn't keep him from mourning the death of his son.

Or: Bruce quits being Batman in the wake of Jason's death, tells the world who he is, then retires to Montana and slowly finds healing. And when Jason comes back to life six months later, and Talia tells him 'you remain unavenged,' he can't find any evidence to support that, so he goes home.

(^ Truly, truly beautiful, it’s a short read but very much worth it)

In For a Pound Series

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17558375/chapters/41378861

25 is too young to be a Dad. That's what Bruce thought when Talia dropped off this baby she claimed was his. Add to that a jealous 11-year-old Dick, and Bruce has his hands full. What does one even do with a baby? Why does this baby scowl so much? And when on earth is Talia coming back?

(^ Very good series with some very fun batfam shenanigans)

Matches

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8074405

What in the hell kind of name for an alias is Matches?

(one-shot, silly, very funny dialogue- bruce is so awkwardly charming I love it)

= Shipping =

Whoever Falls First

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7679041

"There's more kryptonite out there. When the Superman returns, there's going to be an all-star battle royale in the criminal underworld. Every megalomaniacal freak will want a piece of it so they can get a piece of you. And some of them will manage. They'll weaponize it and won't hesitate to use it against you, and when that happens I will not have you flailing around like an idiot."

aka: Bruce teaches Clark how to fight.

(have I recommended this before? I can’t remember, either way it’s immaculately written, superbat one-shot)

pull out the pin

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42361755

Revulsion curled in Clark’s gut, instinctual and sudden. He knew, without knowing how, that the creature wearing Bruce’s face was not Bruce.

“Oh boy,” Not-Bruce cracked its neck, turning its grin on the rest of the group, “You do not want to be in this head, let me tell you.”

(superbat and sooo good, also do yourself a favour and just read all of this authors stuff, its always a banger)

Dilectus Meus Mihi...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/301669/chapters/482974

Clark Kent has lost all his memories of being Superman, and Bruce Wayne must retrain him in the use of his powers. But his super-powered identity isn't all he's forgotten...

(two shot, fun and sweet, just superbat falling in love again <3)

my body is an orphanage (we take everyone in)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12683415

He can stand in a room with the League members and receive surreptitious glances from each one of them individually, each one of them trying to communicate with the intensity of their eyes some sort of camaraderie with Bruce, us against the world, which would be funny, would be far less bitter and ironic, if he wasn’t so desperate to affirm with each of them in turn, yes, you are my friend, for better or for worse.

So he lets them have sex with him because it seems like that means a lot to them.

(^ ace bruce!- incredibly bittersweet with a very sweet ending, poor bruce man :c)

ship-to-ship combat

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39666915/chapters/99302841

"Clark. What the hell is this," Lois asks, staring at Clark's Bruceman WIP folder. Clark's first instinct is to fly away, but that would still leave his fic on display for her to see. His second instinct is to blast a hole straight through his laptop screen with his heat vision, which isn't much better.

Clark, in an attempt to make some spare cash, unintentionally stumbles into the world of superhero fanfiction, becomes a prolific writer for Gotham's OTP, and tries his best to fend off rival fans who want him to convert to superbat instead.

(^ i really just assume everyones already heard of this one cause it’s just- really well written but its superbat and bruceman(LOL) it’s un-finished but hilarious and surprisingly real and emotional)

as to which may be the true

https://archiveofourown.org/works/7880368/chapters/17998981#main

It isn't difficult to go on in the wake of Superman's death. His resurrection, though, poses a problem—especially when it turns out there's no such thing as the right moment to explain that Martha Kent's obnoxious billionaire friend? Is also the man who tried really hard to shove a kryptonite spear through Clark's face.

(I love post resurrection content it’s so good, superbat)

Nine Tenths

https://archiveofourown.org/works/426785

In which the man who's faster than a speeding bullet is pretty slow on the uptake. Bruce corrects this problem the only way he knows how: by being smarter than the average bat. Stark is more than willing to lend a hand.

(this is so cute, gotta love some jealous superbat, also Clark being the one that hates a random hero for literally no reason is fucking hilarious I love it everytime lol)

Remembering Normal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494842/chapters/25786338

Hal Jordan is a totally normal alpha, and definitely NOT gay. At all. Like, even a little. Except there was this once. . .

(steamyy, this author has such an insane grasp on bruce and hal as characters its actually insane, their lvl of dialogue is something I aspire for, batlantern)

Late Night Talks

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34941634

Two-face's new partner looks a lot like Bruce Wayne. Surely that doesn't mean anything...

(Twobat, oneshot and the first introduction I’ve ever had to two face/matches malone)

#there's probably more but I can't think what they might be so this is it for now :p #batman #batman fanfiction #dc #dc fanfics #bruce wayne #batfam fanfiction #batfam fanfic rec #batman fanfiction recs #ao3 #superbat fanfiction #batlantern fanfiction #If I make another one imma find more duke fics- love that kid