#fic: bargains

[heartstringsduet]

Happy Sunday peeps. I somehow managed to post three fics this week (thanks to my betas <3) and now I can finally return to my new long adventure. Fantasy fic. Thanks for tagging me @ironheartwriter

It opens the path for TK and Carlos look at each other, no obstructions between them, not even the veil of night. Carlos’ eyes grow larger, the fold between his eyebrows vanishing and the perfectly plush mouth wet from where his tongue darted out. He looks at him like TK is still wrapped in the bright light of his powers; unblinking, awed. The need to cover his chest grows until TK crosses his arms over it, heart thudding thickly-peacefully against it like it aims to meet Carlos’ gaze directly.

“Is there something wrong?” Owen asks, turning to TK as if to confirm that the man at the door is behaving strangely. TK barely manages to escape the draw of Carlos’ eyes to look at his father and shrug. He wonders if Elementals can enthrall people.

“No, uhm—” Carlos straightens his shoulders and offers his hand. “Good afternoon, Sir—”

“Owen is fine. Now please, unless there is a custom that is missing for you to enter homes, could you come in?"

Somehow, Carlos loses no height but seems smaller still as he steps through the front door and follows them to the living room. His eyes keep on flicking back to TK, whose gaze doesn’t waver.

“Carlos, I know I said it before but I can’t thank you enough for finding my son.” OPEN TAG &

@certifiedflower @corsage @butchreyes @carlos-in-glasses

@eclectic-sassycoweyes @welcometololaland @rmd-writes

@paperstorm @lemonlyman-dotcom @ladytessa74

@tellmegoodbye @alrightbuckaroo @lightningboltreader

@strandnreyes @reyesstrand @liminalmemories21

@orchidscript @goodways @carlos-tk @firstprince-history-huh

@nancys-braids @chicgeekgirl89 @pimento-playing-hopscotch

@emsprovisions @theghostofashton @decafdino

@bonheur-cafe @freneticfloetry @never-blooms

@irispurpurea @sanjuwrites @literateowl

@myohmine @honeybee-taskforce

[void-of-unparalled-chaos]

Star Shoes

"Things had been going so well for him lately. He should have expected the other shoe to drop. Or the metal pipe in this case."

In which Danny and his totally normal boyfriend who is definitely not Red Hood are abducted by cultists. Danny is super concussed, but he's got the spirit.

@deadonmayn Day 2: Jason Has Magic | Ritual | Danny and Jason are abducted by the same cult | "You were never monstrous to me."

AO3 Link

   One day! Danny had asked for just one day! One day free from ghosts and vigilante stuff! A single day off! Was that too much to ask?

    In retrospect, he should have known something bad would happen. Things had been going too well for him lately. 

   Six months ago he began his degree in astrophysics at Gotham University. Since moving to Gotham, Danny and his apartment had yet to be caught in any sort of rogue attack or crime. It was certainly odd considering he was living in the crime capital of the country, but Danny decided he would take it.

   Most of his classes were able to be taken online, which was much more accommodating for Danny’s schedule. Sometimes a baby ancient of space just had to stretch themselves out amongst the stars and let their form slip. Frostbite said it was important for his development. He even offered to write Danny a doctor's note, but something told him it wouldn’t go over well with the school. 

   Danny Fenton requires up to five days of star exposure per month or else he breaks out in fins and eyes that may cause you feelings of cosmic terror. Please excuse him from lecture.

   Yeah. That would work.

   He didn’t need a note if the lectures were online anyway.

   The online lectures were also easier for him on bad tremor days. Sometimes his legs would ache and shake and randomly lock too much for him to walk. It was so much easier to float on those days and just… let loose. His human visage had begun to feel too small and restricting. He could put up with it normally but it itched. It was harder to stay restrained when he also had to deal with the tremors. Luckily for him, the bad days had been decreasing lately.

    By far the best part of the past six months was Danny’s new boyfriend. Jason was great! Better than great! Jason was amazing! They had only been dating for a month but Danny swore if anything happened to Jason he would kill everyone in Gotham and then himself (again). He had a sharp way with words that never failed to make Danny laugh, and though he may seem rude and grumpy on the outside, he was secretly a big sweetheart. 

   Danny had once seen him cry because of a feral (possibly radioactive) Gotham rat that was “just too small”. 

   There’s really no repairing your facade after that.

   Truly, Jason was everything Danny could ask for in a boyfriend. Danny had worried that the questionable functionality of his legs would be a turn-off, but he had been pleasantly surprised. Jason never pushed him past his limits, in fact, he fought to keep Danny from doing so. On the bad days, Jason would make him soup and drape heating pads over his limbs. He would knead his knuckles into Danny’s muscles and press kisses to his trembling fingers. It didn’t make the bad days stop, but they became more bearable. 

   Danny was so lucky.

   So really, he should have expected the other shoe to drop.

   Or the metal pipe in this case.

   Groaning, Danny struggled to open his eyes. His head hurt like he had been doing shots for twelve straight hours and his mouth tasted like iron. He must have bitten his tongue. Or lost a tooth. They grew back so fast that it was honestly hard to tell. 

  “D…n..”

   Someone was talking.

   “Da…n…”

   Someone needed to shut up. Danny hated that name.

   “D…ny!”

   Ugh. 

   Vision swimming, Danny peeled open his eyelids. This… he was in a pawnshop? Why was he in a pawnshop?

   “Danny!”

   Oh. 

   Jason is here.

   Hi Jason!

   “Hey, baby,” Jason huffed in amusement.

   Did he say that out loud? Fuck. He probably has a concussion.

   “I’d be surprised if you didn’t with all the blood on your head.” 

   Blood? Danny tries to feel his face for it but instead finds his hands bound behind his back. He struggles to free them, not accomplishing much besides wiggling around on the carpet like a sad worm. He pauses once for breath and then resumes his wiggling in earnest.

   Now hypothetically, Danny could just phase out of the restraints. One issue…

   Jason was completely in the dark about the whole Phantom thing. They had only been dating for a month and like- how could Danny even bring that up? 

   Hey, just so you know I’ve died before and I’m technically still dead depending on how you think of it? Apparently I’m also a baby god which is news to me too so if that’s distressing for you imagine how I feel! And while we’re at it, I should let you know that your entire concept of the afterlife is probably wrong. Enjoy that crisis!

   Okay, so Danny wouldn’t use those words exactly but that’s the gist of it. It’s some world-changing information and people have been dumped for less. Danny doesn’t want to scare Jason off!

   And even if he was fine after that conversation, what about Danny’s other form? The one that Frostbite keeps calling his true form? It was… a lot, and he hadn’t been joking about the cosmic terror. If he were being honest, Danny barely felt human some days. 

   Danny allows his head to fall back to the floor with a thunk.

   “Careful, darlin’,” Jason sounded concerned from where he was bound adjacent to him, “I think it's stopped bleeding. Don’t want you to open it again.”

   “It’s fine. Worse than it looks.”

   “...Do you mean better than it looks?”

   “Yeah, that. Head wounds bleed a lot.”

   It really was better than it looked. With Danny’s healing, it was probably entirely gone by now. 

   Jason looks like he is about to say something else when the backdoor opens. 

   In comes the most stereotypical cultists Danny has ever seen in his life. Actually, they were stereotypical but worse. The robes they wore looked plasticy and the black was off with a gross yellow undertone. Overall it was giving purchased off some shitty cheap website vibes. Like Wish. 

   They circle around Danny and Jason so perfectly synchronized that Danny knows they had to have practiced this. He imagines them running through their steps as if they were practicing for a dance recital. Did they have a choreographer?

   “Why would we have a choreographer?”

   Oh, Danny is speaking out loud again. Did he say the stuff about the robes?

   “What’s wrong with our robes?!”

   “I love you, baby, but I need you to shut the fuck up.”

   Understandable. Have a nice day.

   Danny passes out.

   When he wakes up again they are in a different room. Jason is struggling against a cloak’s hold and cursing up a storm in true Jason fashion. The cultists look a little worse for wear. The one holding his boyfriend looks like he might have gotten into a fight with a weedwhacker. 

   “Touch one hair on his head and I’ll fucking kill you!” Jason snarls.

   He’s largely ignored by the cultists who continue with their preparations.

   Danny finally takes stock of where he’s at. He’s still on the floor, but the carpet feels slightly different. The room is bare compared to the one they were in before. A desk and office chair are pushed against the wall to make room for the summoning circle. A summoning circle that Danny was currently resting in. As an offering. Great.

   Flashing lights distract him from their predicament.

   The guy closest to Danny was wearing light-up sneakers. Danny didn’t even know they made those for adults. Neat!

   “Hey man, where did you get your shoes?”

   He can’t see the cultist’s face but he assumes he’s raised an eyebrow with the way the hood crooks to the side.

   Danny genuinely wants to know! The lights look like little stars blinking in the darkness. He has to have them.

   Danny is about to ask again but is cut off by a loud curse. 

   Jason? 

   Jason!

   Danny has to save Jason!

   He growls, eyes flashing for the briefest of moments before he can tone them down. Jason can’t know about Phantom. He’ll have to figure something else out. Actually, he might not need to figure anything out! Depending on who this circle summons this could be a nonissue. 

   Danny cranes his head to look at the circle. 

   Groaning, he allows his head to fall back against the floor for the third time that night. 

   This isn’t just any summoning circle. This is his summoning circle.

   He lifts his head again to double check and yup, these idiots are using him as an offering for himself. Great job. Gold star.

  This is both good and bad. Good because they are in no immediate danger outside of the world’s worst Grim Reaper cosplayers. Bad because Eldritch horror.

   If these yahoos actually go through with the ritual and summon Danny, he’ll be forced into his ancient form in front of Jason. Probably. Danny wasn’t entirely sure that the ritual would work in the first place what with him already being there.

   Danny spends too long thinking about the summoning logistics and not enough time actually stopping it. Before he can come up with a plan the cultists are chanting. He can feel the tug in his chest getting stronger and fins pushing against his skin. This was happening whether Danny wanted it to or not.

   “Jason, close your eyes!”

   “Danny!” Jason was still squirming in Weedwhacker’s hold and valiantly trying to get to Danny. His teeth snapped dangerously close to the cloak’s fingers. Ancients, Danny loved his boyfriend.

   “Trust me, Jason!” Danny yelled, choking down the mist trying to escape from between his shark-like teeth, “Close your eyes!”

   With one last glance to verify that his boyfriend’s eyes are squeezed shut, Danny lets go.

   His very being unravels.

   It feels good to be this big, no longer vacuum-sealed into a too-small bag. The fins along his tail flick, stretching now that they are no longer confined. The luminescent lights travel up and down them as if doing a calibration run. His body parts disappear into fine vapor whenever they move before reforming in their new positions. The very pulse of the universe thrums in his chest. He can feel so much. He can see so much. He lets out a cool, dead, misty breath.

   His eyes open.

   The screaming starts. 

   Danny grins, displaying his sharp teeth proudly. He flies through the air, knocking person after person to the ground. They fall like blades of wheat to a scythe, small and inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. Just a speck in the eye of a giant. 

   Jason’s eyes are still closed. Good.

   Danny plucks him from Weedwhacker, setting him gently to the side. He can’t stop himself from getting into Weewhacker's face and screeching. He watches with satisfaction as he crumples to the ground seizing.

   The screaming eventually stops, the cultists catatonic on the carpet. Jason’s eyes are tightly shut. He’s breathing heavily, unmoving from where Danny had placed him. 

   Softly, ever so softly, Danny covers Jason’s eyes with his hands, careful not to prick him with his claws. He winds himself up tight, shoving himself back into his body like clothing in an overpacked suitcase. Gradually his claws shrink back into normal human digits. 

   His fingers shake with familiar tremors, still covering his boyfriend's eyes. Danny breathes shakily as Jason’s hands slide over his own.

   “Danny?”

   “Yeah.” 

   “Can I open my eyes now?”

   He swallows hard, mentally preparing himself. Jason’s going to leave. Jason heard the screaming and felt his claws. He’ll see the cultists and know what he’s done. Jason knows what Danny truly is and he is going to leave.

   “...Yeah,” it already sounds heartbroken as it leaves his lips.

   Jason’s hands take Danny’s with care, removing them from over his eyes. He blinks, surveying the room and Danny knows this is it. He’s waiting for the look of horror or sneer of disgust he has become so achingly familiar with. 

   Jason’s eyes meet his own.

   “Hey baby,” He presses kisses to Danny’s quivering fingertips with careful affection. Just like on the bad days…

   Danny sniffles, turning away with watery eyes and grit teeth. He wasn’t expecting this last scrap of kindness from Jason. 

   “No no no,” Jason squeezes his hands with gentle pressure. Not enough to hurt, never enough to hurt. “Look at me, Danny. Please?”

   Danny’s head pounds, his vision is blurry, his skin itches, and his heart hurts. He just wants this night to be over. But he could never deny Jason. 

    Jason smiles at him, hands coming to rest on his cheeks. He wipes a stray tear away with his thumb, smudging some dried blood away with it. 

   “There you are, handsome.”

   More tears race down Danny’s face. His voice cracks, “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

   “What don’t you understand, baby?” Jason asks, checking his hair for a wound that’s probably already gone.

   “You’re still here.”

   Jason pauses his minstations, “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

   “I-” Danny stops, addled brain thinking. Jason waits patiently for him to form the words, “I’m wrong. I’m not supposed to be like this,” Danny’s not sure how much sense he actually makes between the persistent concussion and rampant emotions, “I’m a monster.”

   The look in Jason’s eyes turned steely, “You're not a monster, Danny.”

   “But-”

   “No buts. You're not a monster. You wanna know how I know?”

    Danny remained silent, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Jason considers him for a minute then continues anyway.

   “I’ve seen monsters before. Monsters do awful things with only themselves in mind. Monsters go out looking for someone to hurt just because they can.” 

   Danny turns to look away again. It doesn’t matter that the timeline is gone or if he’s trapped in a thermos, the very concept of Dan will always haunt Danny.

 “Danny,” Jason redirects his attention, gently turning his face back to him. Danny’s not prepared for the pure unbridled devotion in his eyes.

   “You are the most selfless person I’ve ever met. You go so far out of your way to help others even when it becomes an inconvenience to you. It doesn’t matter if they are a stranger or not. Sometimes I worry you're going to get yourself kidnapped.” 

  Like today goes unsaid. Jason looks like he’s on the verge of tears too.

   “You were never monstrous to me, and you never will be. How could you possibly be a monster?”

   Danny sniffles again, leaning into his boyfriend’s touch. Jason readily accepts him into his arms, rubbing soothing circles on his back.

   “Sorry…” Danny finally mumbles into his… shirt? Whatever Jason is wearing feels hard against his cheek. Danny doesn’t really care. His head hurts too much to think about it, “I shoulda told you.”

    Jason quietly laughs, “Technically you still haven’t told me anything.”

   Danny nods solemnly, wiping the last of his tears away, “Complicated.”

   “Yeah, I get that,” he scoops Danny effortlessly into a bridal carry. 

   Danny yelps as the movement jostles his head. Jason makes a sound of apology.

   His boyfriend’s eyes scan the room again, “How about you explain it all to me when you're no longer concussed? Besides, I have some things I need to explain to you too.”

   “Sounds good,” Danny slurs as Jason walks them to the door.

   They are about to step over the threshold when Danny suddenly REMEMBERS.

   “WAIT!”

   Jason startles, looking around wildly, “What?! What is it?!”

   “The shoes!” 

   “The shoes?”

   “Yeah! The shoes! The star shoes!” 

   “...do you mean the light-up sneakers?”

   Danny pouts at him but nods anyway, “The star shoes.”

   “The star shoes, then,” Jason easily confirms, “What about them?”

   “I need to take em.”

    Jason grimaces, “...Why? I can just buy you your own pair.”

   “No! It’s not the same!” Danny whined, “They summoned me using me as an offering. I didn’t actually get anything!”

   “Okay, I’ll go get his shoes-”

   “My shoes.”

   Jason laughs, setting him down on the table just outside the door, “Wait here.”

   Danny waits. His vision is still swimming in a blur of colors. Colors. He’s pretty sure he can taste colors now. The dull brown carpet is disgusting. 

   Jason remerges victoriously with star shoes in hand. Danny cheers, immediately making grabby hands. Jason passes them over with a look of mild disgust.

   “You ready to go now?”

   Danny bats his eyelashes, throwing his arms (and shoes!) over Jason’s shoulders and around his neck. He presses in to rub his nose against his boyfriend’s, “Take me home?”

  “Of course.”

Danny had the best boyfriend.

[bloodpen-to-paper]

When Juanaflippa died, she was the first. No one knew how to react. Charlie and Mariana expressed the rage, the denial, and it was a spectacle of roleplay followed up by a wacky trial made for laughs. At this point, the rest of the server were still getting used to their eggs, so only Charlie and Mariana felt that twinge of pain from losing an egg. But when you remember Juanaflippa, you remember an explosion. A marvel.

Next Trump died. Maxo made you feel heartbroken with the image of a grieving father wallowing in misery and self destruction. But it was all still early, and most people didn't even notice. Trump died from neglect. Dan never saw him after adoption day. The server didn't come together like they did Juanaflippa. It was all very quiet. To this day, not many people in the community could tell you anything about Maxo's kid. About how hard his father bargained for his life between the gods. About how he failed. Trump was a whisper in the wind that only his father and those who watched him could bother to hear.

Then Tilín. At this point, the server was becoming more accustomed to the eggs. They were becoming attached. When Tilín died, it was depressing in every sense of the word. Quackity was somber, he barely spoke a word when he heard what had happened. A grave was built for Tilín by others with a heavy heart. There was no spectacle, and this time most people were involved in some way. Luzu came on to meet Tilín, and had to deal with that grief of being told his child was dead, something so heavy on him that he shut down completely. In life and in death, Tilín was the embodiment of sadness.

Bobby. The first death since Tilín. The first death in a long time. Everything had changed for the server. The eggs are their babies, their world. Everyone gathered to grieve Bobby, because they're a community now unlike ever before. But its different this time, they aren't there to witness a marvel from a distance, or grieve in sympathy. Bobby was a celebration. Music and dancing and memories. Toasts and cheering his name until the final moment. And having a final clap in his name after. Bobby was life. Because they're all scared now, terrified for their children. But they know what to expect this time. They're ready. They knew not to watch Jaiden and Roier grieve from the sidelines, they knew not to turn their backs on the two, and they would be sad but by god would they be happy as well. The server celebrated Roier and Jaiden, celebrated Bobby, and accepted his death with his name being shouted into the sky.

[bloatedandalone04]

Bets & Bargains Masterlist

Series Summary: Bradley Bradshaw was not one to put all of his free time into a relationship, and that is the exact reason his girlfriend, Briana, broke up with him. Despite things being pretty casual between them, he decides he wants her back and this results in him coming up with an idea that not only breaks your heart, but his own.

Warnings: frat boy bradley, college au, alcohol consumption, weed usage, drugs, swearing, insecurity, self-deprecating thoughts, bets, hints of bradley having anger issues, unwanted touching, public smut, pda, mentions of death, mentions of fighting, mentions of blood and injuries, terrible friendships, oral (f receiving), fingering, mentions of bad past sexual relations, car sex, protected sex, blowjobs, drugging, mentions of drugging, sex without a condom, more as the series goes on

Genre: angst, fluff, smut

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

More to come probably

[desceros]

INT DISCORD - EVENING @thejudiciousneurotic: i'm drawing a comic where leo talks about how he accidentally sent someone his nudes me: oh. now i wanna write a fic where leo flirts with you by "accidentally" shooting you his nudes me: ...trade u for the comic thejudiciousneurotic: 🤝 me: 🤝 leonardo/reader, female reader, rated m

You’re having a very nice lunch with April and Casey when your phone vibrates where it rests next to your plate.

neon leon (12:41 p.m.) [image]

Oh boy. What does this goober want?

Normally, you aren’t one to check your phone while eating with others. It’s kind of rude, and you don’t get enough time with the three of you hanging out like this. But April’s busy trying to make Casey laugh so hard his drink comes out of his nose, and—and you’re curious, because it’s Leo, and he’s sent you a picture.

You open the message app, and blink. It's not a meme, or a dorky selfie, or something pretty like he sometimes finds while he's wandering about and shoots your way to share.

It’s… a picture of him. The kind that he’d usually put on his So-Shell, you note, wondering why he’d sent it to you specifically. A little bit of a suggestive pose: his arms curling in just a manner to accentuate the way his arms have been getting big lately, one leg crossed over the other to show off how long they are, fingers framing that smug smirk he gets sometimes when he—

—oh.

Oh, god.

Leo isn’t wearing his mask. Or—or anything, you suddenly realize. No wraps. No socks. 

…Are these… nudes?!

Quickly, feeling your face burn hot, you look up to check in with April and Casey. They’re both still fucking around on the other side of the table. She’s tickling him, he’s giggling. Normal. Normal. They haven’t noticed that you’re a few degrees shy of combustion. Cool, cool. No one’s noticed that your best friend—friend friend just a friend!—has sent you his smoldering-hot naked body.

Quickly, you stop yourself, inhaling deep before you go too deep into it. No, that’s silly. He’s a fucking turtle. So he’s not wearing socks. Or forearm wraps. Or—Or his mask, which you’ve never seen him without before. So it’s a sexy pose in front of a mirror. It’s—It’s not anything salacious, if you don’t make it such. 

You start typing, just the usual compliment that you usually give his pictures on So-Shell, maybe a fire emoji, and—

neon leon (12:41 p.m.) oops! didn’t mean to send that!

neon leon (12:41 p.m.) just uh. pretend i didn’t just accidentally send you a nude. haha :)

“Oh my god,” you quietly whimper. It is a nude. 

The proper thing would be, of course, to do as he asks. Spam a bunch of junk until it disappears to the void of the past conversation. Laugh it off with him. Tell him a joke to make him feel better when he’s probably fucking mortified. 

…A little like how you’re mortified the moment you tap on the picture, making it bigger. 

God damn it. It’s… It’s so unfair how good he looks, you think, biting on the inside of your cheek. He’s finally hit that growth spurt Casey has warned everyone was coming, and he’s just so—so big. Towering over you easily. Putting on muscle like it’s as easy as putting on a shirt. Moving like silk through the air. Comfortable in his skin and knowing he looks good.

A fresh memory comes to mind. How the other day, he’d picked you up in one hand to snag the blanket you’d been sitting on to hand to Donnie where he’d been whining about being chilly. You’d spent the rest of the afternoon uncomfortably wet and turned on, hoping to god his sensitive turtle nose couldn’t pick up on it as he draped an arm on your shoulder for the last half of the movie and pulled you to lean into his plastron.

(...Friends cuddle, right? Totally. Friends totally cuddle.)

Plus he’s just… pretty. The way his cheekbones curve, the markings on his face cutting beautiful lines around his eyes, eyes that you can see without his mask in the way. The breath catches in your lungs as you stare into where they’re half-lidded in the picture, turning the smirk into something sultry. The smirk, framed by fingers that are long and thick and—

“Oh fuck,” you choke, clenching your teeth so hard your jaw aches. 

(...Friends think about getting fingered by their friends, right?! Right?! Oh god, oh fuck—)

“You good?” April asks, finally looking away from Casey who is dabbing at his face and bellowing with agony. Oof, carbonation up the nose. Not fun.

“…I’m so good,” you tell her around the knot in your throat, fingers going tight on your phone. Gah. You have to leave now or else she’ll suss out what’s wrong and you’re pretty sure you’d rather die than admit you’re getting flustered off of Leonardo’s mess up. “Say, uh. I—I have to go to the bathroom. Right now. For a while. I’ll be back.”

You can feel her eyes between your shoulder blades as you flee her knowing eyes, quickly going into the stand-alone bathroom in the cute little café and snapping the door shut behind you. You slump back against it, whipping out your phone and looking at it a bit like it’s a ticking time bomb. 

Which it kind of is, you realize with a sudden terror. You haven’t responded to him yet. He would have seen the little dots where you’d given away you were typing. That you’d had his picture in your face. He knows you’ve seen it. You’ve seen it, and time is passing while he’s sitting there, knowing there’s a fucking nuke on your screen. Oh god. Oh fuck.

Stupid sexy turtle, you think, hands trembling as you compose a very normal, very chill response. You only delete three before you settle on the last and send it.

sent (12:45 p.m.) no worries! i didn’t see anything, haha :)

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) hm. you sure? you sure took a while to respond

Oh god. Embarrassment lights your blood on fire. He knows. He totally knows. Fuck, it feels like he knows how you zoomed the fuck in and had to press your goddamn thighs together beneath the table. Swallowing thickly, you try to do as much damage control as you can. 

sent (12:45 p.m.) i mean, of course i saw it. i was curious!

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) oh yeah? what were you so curious about?

sent (12:45 p.m.) i. you know. i’ve never seen you without your mask. 

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) you know you can ask, right? i’ll take it off for you whenever you want.

You fumble your phone. What the fuck. Is this happening. Quickly, you look up. Yep. You’re still here. A quick pinch reminds you that it isn’t a dream. It’s quarter til one on a Saturday, and your childhood friend has sent you a nude on accident and then said that. 

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) is that something you want? seeing me without my mask?

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) i’d do it. for you.

neon leon (12:45 p.m.) no wraps. no socks. no mask. 

“…Holy shit,” you mutter, feeling a little dizzy. You gape, unsure of how to respond, how to fucking breathe. Then, you nearly jump out of your skin when the phone of your screen fills with a selfie of you and Leo in a photobooth at Alberto Land, feather boas and silly matching heart-shaped glasses stupid on your face. 

Oh fuck. He’s calling you. 

“Where are you right now?” Leo asks as soon as you answer the call, not waiting for you to find your voice, his words velvet in your ears.

Defensive at how you’re reacting, protecting your friendship with him tooth and nail, you claw out of the fog that had settled and made you stupid. You narrow your eyes at the hand dryer next to you. “…Did you actually ‘accidentally’ send me that picture, Leonardo?”

His laugh fills your ears like wine; rich, decadent, intoxicating. Warmth blooms in your chest. “Where are you, beautiful?”

That’s about as close to an admission as you’re probably going to get, you think. The pet name, familiar in shape but foreign in tone, makes your stomach dip. Licking your lips, you try one more time. 

“…Why are you sending me your nudes?” you ask, air catching in your throat, voice quiet but feeling loud in the privacy of the bathroom. 

“Why are you looking at them?” he responds cheekily. You bite down on the snarky response that reflexively comes to the surface; am I not supposed to, goober? There’s something glittering in the air, an invitation for something, and it makes you hesitate. Makes you look at the boundary of the lines you’ve drawn around him. Wonder what they’d look like a little smudged. 

“I… wanted to see,” you admit, feeling a little breathless, wondering if you sound so. If he can tell you’re on the edge of a cliff, feeling a bit like maybe you’re ready to take a step and fall.

“See what?” he asks. Voice lower still. Umbrous. Hypnotic. Tantalizing.

“You. Without—Without your mask. Without… any of it.”

His phone ever so slightly picks up on a sensuous rumble that comes from deep inside his shell. The sound of it makes you shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin. Your eyes fall shut. It’s an easy fantasy, thinking of feeling it in your flesh.

Leo says your name. It’s not a way you’ve ever heard him do so, before. It pricks your attention, hooking into it, pulling it where he wants it. “Where are you?”

You tell him. A second later, your eyes flare with familiar blue light. Two seconds later, your back is against the bathroom door, the sound of the lock clicking loud in your ears as he reaches over and ensures no one will be interrupting.

“Leo, you—!” you gasp, the barest amount of protest that he cuts through as easily as if he’d taken his katana to it. 

“I got tired of waiting. And you want to see,” he says, his fingers finding your chin and holding you in place, his mouth hovering over yours, his breath hot against where you can’t breathe. His other hand finds the curve of your hip, pulling it to meld to his own, his plastron pressing you to the door. “So look while you still can, pretty little thing. Because you’ve got about three minutes before I plan on getting my face between your legs for a long, long time.”

Later, much later, after you nearly bite through your palm trying to keep quiet through the several orgasms he easily eats out of you, after he portals you back to the lair and he pins you to that cursed mirror in his bedroom so you can see how good he looks while fucking you stupid, after he crawls over you in his sheets and slowly curls his fingers together with yours while rolling his hips to get slow and deep to drive you absolutely insane, your phone vibrates again.

This time, you ignore it, fully fucked out, completely disinterested in moving from beneath where Leo’s snoring into your shoulder, having everything you can possibly want within arm’s reach for the foreseeable future.

ayyy-pril (2:19 p.m.) lmao did you fall in?

ayyy-pril (2:19 p.m.) hellooooooo

ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) …since leo’s also not answering i’m guessing you’re with him. girl u Gotta let me know when you dip so i don’t worry >:T

ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) also. ugh. can you two just make out already? the pining is getting ridiculous. and don’t tell me i’m just imagining things again. i’m sooooo bored by your excuses

ayyy-pril (2:21 p.m.) grabbed your leftovers for you. love you ttyl byeeee

[laurenttheninth]

Eyes meeting from across the room and buddie (or buddietommy) from the prompt list 👀👀👀

pick a prompt any prompt

[buddietommy - an alternate version of the bachelor party, ~2000 words, rated E]

Tommy had been officially released from standby at midnight, and half an hour later, the bachelor party was shaping up to be the best night of Buck's life.

Now that his boyfriend - his boyfriend! - was matching him and Eddie drink-for-drink, Buck's burning-in-the-background anxieties about planning the perfect party had melted away. Sure, Chimney wasn't there, but Tommy was, and Eddie was, and all these random strangers were, and no one was mad at him. No one was disappointed in him. No one was saying he Bucked it up. In fact, no one was calling him 'Buck' at all - Eddie had been calling him Tubbs all night (excluding the third round of shots, when he'd called him 'cowboy' with a dopey grin), and Tommy was, as always, calling him -

"Evan," Tommy groaned, his breath hot on Buck's neck. "You're killing me, kid."

Buck grinned. They were in the middle of the dance floor, being bumped into on all sides, and Buck had his arms wrapped around Tommy's neck, his suit jacket lost somewhere between drinks six and ten. Buck had dragged Tommy through the crowd, pulled him close, slipped his thigh between Tommy's, and danced the way Buck 1.0 danced. Slowly, purposefully grinding his hips to the baseline, letting his chest brush against Tommy's teasingly, refusing to break eye contact while letting every lascivious thought show plainly on his face.

It felt weirdly good, surprisingly easy, to slip back into this - but it was better now, because he was older, and knew so much more about who he was and what he wanted, and because it was Tommy. Tommy, who wasn't a petite woman interested in Buck's bulk and little else - it was Tommy, who was even bigger, who could haul Buck into his arms without a sign of exertion; Tommy, who had been interested even when Buck was a babbling, awkward idiot who made a fool of himself on their first date. Tommy, who was attracted to him before he even knew Buck was practically a sex god.

And now, he got to remind his super hot pilot boyfriend that Buck was, in fact, something of a sex god.

Buck leaned in, letting his whole front plaster against Tommy's, running one hand through his hair and licking a long stripe up the side of his neck; he could feel more than hear the low hum of pleasure deep in Tommy's chest.

"I'm killing you, huh?" Buck murmured into his ear. "I'm not even doing anything. I'm just dancing." And as the chorus hit, Buck ground into the crease of Tommy's hip, making no effort to muffle a breathy gasp of pleasure at the delicious friction.

This was fun - this was what Buck was used to, in some ways. He was used to being the one to drive someone else crazy, to take control, to set the pace - but at the same time, this was all new.

Because Tommy loved to let Buck take the reins, but he also loved to take them back.

His hands tightened on Buck's hips, and he spun him around without letting him pull away - Buck's arms slipped from Tommy's shoulders, and suddenly his ass was pressed against Tommy's hips, and Tommy's mouth was on his neck, and Buck felt very exposed.

"Just dancing?" Tommy growled. "You're practically humping my leg, baby. You're showing off. Putting on a little show..."

Buck bit his lip, tilting his head, silently begging Tommy to go to town on his neck the way they did when they were alone. Tommy, never one to miss a cue, immediately pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses over his pulse point, which got Buck from mostly-hard to diamond-hard in the span of five seconds. The Buck 1.0 reflexes had him still grinding to the beat, his hands resting on top of Tommy's, and he could feel the hard line of Tommy's cock through all the layers of fabric.

"Show off," Tommy breathed, dragging his nose along the shell of Buck's ear. "Come on, baby, let's show them how pretty you are." And then his hands were slipping off Buck's hips to grab his wrists, and then Tommy was lifting his arms up, bringing his hands up to tangle in Tommy's hair.

Buck thought he felt exposed before, but it was nothing compared to this. Tommy dragged his hands down Buck's triceps, skimming along his armpits, and Buck gasped, half-ticklish, half turned-on.

"I'm so sweaty right now," Buck said, not yet drunk enough to forget that he was wearing a white t-shirt and had been drinking and dancing for hours and a quick glance down at himself showed that the sweat was soaking through in a line between his pecs - he could only imagine what his underarms looked like.

"You are," Tommy agreed, his hands splayed high on Buck's ribs, his hips driving them along as one song morphed into the next. "And you look so fucking pretty like this... Hard and sweating and desperate..."

Buck bit back a moan, eyes rolling back as he let his head fall back onto Tommy's shoulder.

"I'm not the only one who thinks so," Tommy said, skimming his teeth along the corner of Buck's jaw. "Look at him, baby. Look at the way he's watching you."

Buck forced his eyes open, blinking in confusion, scanning the dance floor -

And then he saw Eddie.

Eddie, across the room, leaning on the bar, his beautiful brown eyes locked on Buck's. And the look on his face...

He looked like he wanted to eat him alive.

"Oh fuck," Buck gasped, his legs going weak.

"Mhm," Tommy hummed. "He's been staring at you this whole time, baby. I don't think he could look away if he tried."

"That's - " Buck swallowed. "That's not - Eddie doesn't - "

"Doesn't what?" Tommy asked innocently, and one of his hands slid down, down Buck's side and came to rest on the front of his hip, drawing the eye to where Buck's cock was straining against his zipper, and fuck, Eddie's eyes dropped down to follow the hand, obvious even across the room. "Doesn't want you like that? Oh, Evan. Baby. Don't be silly. Of course he does."

"He's - " But Buck couldn't get the words out, because Tommy's other hand was dragging across his chest, palm and fingers dragging along his nipple, and he was twitching under Tommy's hand, losing the rhythm of the music, and he couldn't look away from Eddie, from the way Eddie was biting on the inside of his cheek, clenching and unclenching his fists, gaze fixed on Buck's hips and Tommy's hand - "He's straight," Buck said automatically, because Eddie had to be straight.

It turned Buck's whole world upside down if he wasn't.

Tommy took Buck's earlobe between his teeth and pinched his nipple through his shirt at the same time, and Buck jackknifed in his arms, fists tightening in Tommy's hair, back arching, driving his ass back towards the pressure of Tommy's hips, and Eddie -

Eddie's mouth fell open, and his chest heaved, and holy shit. Holy shit.

"Hm," Tommy hummed, all faux-innocence, too composed, far too composed for what a mess he was making of Buck. "I'm not too sure. But hey, why don't we find out? Why don't you go over there, and you ask him to join us."

"I - " Buck's brain was offline. "What?"

Tommy nuzzled his neck, the hand on his hip drifting below his navel, the hand on his chest coming up to hang, loosely, around the base of his throat. "You're going to walk over to him. And you're going to lean in close, so he can hear you. And you're going to say Eddie, do you want to join us?, and when he says yes, you're going to bring him over here to me, and then I'm going to let him take you apart."

"Oh my god, Tommy - "

"Go on, baby," Tommy said, slipping his hands off of him and untangling his hands from his hair. "Go get him." And he gave Buck a gentle but firm push.

The Buck 1.0 swagger was gone. This Buck - 4.0? - was dripping with sweat, hard enough to cut glass, and could barely hear the thundering beat of the music over his own pulse ringing in his ears. His legs felt weak beneath him, and he all but stumbled over to Eddie, who was watching him the whole time, not moving.

Buck stopped less than a foot away.

God, Eddie was beautiful.

Even like this, even drunk and probably exhausted, he was the most beautiful person Buck had ever seen. That realization had struck Buck the moment he laid eyes on Eddie, half-dressed in the 118 locker room, and had struck him again and again and again over the last six years. Buck had seen this beautiful man clean-cut and well-polished, he'd seen him covered in soot and mud and blood, he'd seen him asleep and drooling, bruised and battered, dressed to the nines - Buck had seen it all.

He'd never seen Eddie look like this.

Eddie Diaz was staring at Buck like a wolf stared at a lamb. His pupils were blown wide, making his bright brown eyes look dark and bottomless, and his lips were softly parted, a gentle expression that was in direct contradiction to the way his fists were clenched so tight Buck could see the veins popping on the backs of his hands. He was still leaning on the bar, but every line of his body was tense, ready. Waiting.

Buck couldn't do this. He couldn't cross this line. This was Eddie, his Eddie - he couldn't risk this. Couldn't handle it if he made this offer, and Eddie turned it down, turned him down.

But the way he was looking at him...

Buck just stood there, pulse racing, mouth dry, making no effort to hide what he was feeling. He knew Eddie could read him like a book anyway.

After what felt like an eternity, Eddie closed his mouth, and swallowed. "Hey, Buck," he said simply.

"Hey, Eddie," Buck managed.

"Do you need something?"

And Eddie was asking so much when he asked that question.

And Buck just - answered him. "Yes," he said, barely audible over the music. "I - I need you."

Eddie took in a deep breath - Buck could see his chest rise with it. "You have me," he answered.

And then Buck was leaning in, taking another step forward, and he could smell Eddie's sweat and deodorant and traces of the cologne he only wore on special occasions, and when Buck put his mouth next to his ear he could smell Eddie's skin and his shampoo, and it was so easy, standing that close, to say "Do you want to join us?"

And standing that close, it was impossible not to get closer - it was like a magnet in his chest, pulling him in, and he was bracing his hands on the bar on either side of Eddie and he was pressing their chests together, and when Eddie nodded, Buck couldn't see it, but he could feel his chin against his shoulder, could feel Eddie's ear against his cheek, and then Eddie was gently, tentatively putting his hands on Buck's waist.

"Are you sure?" Buck asked, because he had to know, because he needed this to be real, not just the tequila or -

"God, yes," Eddie said, so earnestly that it shattered every last wall Buck had built around his heart, and god, he loved him. He loved him so fucking much, and he'd loved him for so fucking long -

"Can I - ?" And Buck turned his head, and it was magnets again, and he was kissing Eddie Diaz.

And he was home.

Even with tequila and beer on their breath, even in this noisy bar under neon lights, even though the bachelor never showed up to his bachelor party, even dressed in their cheesy pastel suits - it was perfect. They fit together the way Buck's bones fit under his skin. Eddie's mouth was hot and soft and his hands were gentle and sure and Buck clacked their teeth together because he couldn't stop smiling because it was Eddie, and he loved him.

Eddie pulled away first, breathless, dragging his mouth away but trying to press his body even closer, but Buck had him pressed tight up against the bar and was not about to let him go anywhere. Eddie mouthed along Buck's jaw, panting against him, and Buck was just about to tilt his head, to offer up that sensitive spot under his ear, when Eddie froze, and his already-hard cock twitched against Buck's hip.

Buck leaned away, slightly, and saw Eddie staring, wide-eyed and flushed, at something over his shoulder.

He turned, twisting in the circle of Eddie's arms, and saw Tommy.

Tommy, leaning against the second bar, drink in hand.

Tommy, sweat plastering a single little curl onto his forehead, smirking that same knowing smirk that he brought out when he pinned Buck down and made him beg.

Tommy, his boyfriend, who was so beautiful and kind and patient and sexy and confident and honest and -

Tommy, who had locked eyes with Eddie, and slowly, clearly, lifted one hand to beckon him over.

[smeddiemunson]

jock steve is fantastic but steve and wayne bonding over sports??? top tier because nothing is funnier to me than eddie needing to make plans AROUND steve's plans with his own uncle

wayne being really into sports is also just a ton of fun, like always listening to the radio broadcasts of basketball games and now he has someone to listen with!! eddie coming home and the first thing wayne asks him is "did steve catch up on the game this morning"

you've really inspired me i have so many steve and wayne bonding over sports feelings now o(￣▽￣)o

Eddie gets home from something, he’s surprised to see Wayne’s truck in front of the trailer, he thought he was working. But he’s excited because it means he gets to hang out with Wayne for the evening! They can have TV dinners and Eddie can tell Wayne all about how great things are going with Steve.

And then he gets in the trailer, and there’s the unmistakable sound of Monday Night Football. And his boyfriend, who he saw no more than an hour ago, who did not mention this, is sat on the floor in front of their coffee table and dishing out a KFC bargain bucket.

“Hey, baby, we’re watching football. You wanna join us?” Steve says.

Wayne just throws him a beer, expecting him to agree anyway. It’s not like Eddie wouldn’t be privy to everything going on even if he did try to hide away in his room.

So Eddie sits on the couch behind Steve, accepts the paper plate Steve sets on his lap, and cracks the beer open.

Steve and Wayne get into the swing of the game, shouting at the tv, laughing at each other, saying things that Eddie can’t even decipher using context clues. Then at first intermission, Eddie very quietly interrupts to ask “who’s playing?” because he thinks that’s a question he’s supposed to ask.

And Steve launches into an explanation of the Chicago Bears and the Green Bay Packers. And he must notice that Eddie looks completely lost because he stops, then tries again with.

“It’s like Gondor versus Mordor. We, Chicago, are Mordor-“

Wayne corrects him, “Gondor.”

“Right. Gondor. And they, Green Bay, are Mordor.”

And Eddie still doesn’t really get it but it helps and it makes him feel kind of all warm fuzzies to know that they listen to him when he rambles about his favourite books. So he sits back and devotes himself to learning the thing they love.

[braceletofteeth]

Strangers From Hell Incorrect Quotes [13/?]

insp.

[heartstringsduet]

Happy Wednesday <3 After yapping about the other fic, I will share more of my fantasy fic to keep me interested in it. It's still very raw, sorray. Thanks for the tags @emsprovisions @strandnreyes @lemonlyman-dotcom @ironheartwriter @carlos-in-glasses @alrightbuckaroo @whatsintheboxmh

When he is down to his own underwear, he follows Carlos broad back and deep footsteps again. The lake isn’t too big, even surface like a bright mirror stretching out to the other shore he can only make out as black schemes. Drawing closer, his soles meet damp sand and tiny smooth rocks that Carlos’ every step seems to evade as they stand side by side by the bank of the lake. 

TK flinches as the first gentle wave laps at his toes. “Shit, that’s cold.”

Carlos looks at him, his ankles already in the water like he didn’t need to make a step for the lake to try and get to him first. Slowly, he reaches out a hand. “I’m not powerful enough to heat up the entire lake, but if you hold onto me, I could keep you warm.”

There’s a confidence in it, smooth as the water surface, so TK tries not to let his own nerves show as he grasps Carlos’ hand. Instantly, the zip of electricity kicks in like a pacemaker, only this time, additional warmth flows out from his palm, to his arm and torso, until he feels like he is a source of heat himself. In unity with Carlos, whose hands have gone from warm to the same temperature, as they sync up.

He can’t be sure but it feels like the water is the softest he ever waded through, the ground doesn’t have the give it usually has as you fight through mud. His wounds sting but it’s barely noticeable. 

If TK is depleted by the day, Carlos seems recharged by the night. 

“What exactly did you have in mind?” TK asks, remembering that he has no idea if this is anything but a midnight splash.

OPEN TAG <3

@reyesstrand @carlos-tk @welcometololaland

@rmd-writes @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @birdclowns

@thisbuildinghasfeelings @ladytessa74 @eclectic-sassycoweyes

@paperstorm @nancys-braids @pimento-playing-hopscotch

@never-blooms @theghostofashton @freneticfloetry

@sapphic--kiwi @thisbuildinghasfeelings @liminalmemories21

[eucacici]

"Wait, come'ere." Rhys says. Tim moves a bit closer but it's evidently not close enough because Rhys pulls at the front of his jacket until they're nearly toe-to-toe and presses his forehead to the glass front of Tim's helmet. "What—" "Yeah," Rhys breathes, fogging the glass, "I knew it'd be cool." He's close enough that Tim could count his eyelashes, close enough he could kiss him if the glass wasn't there, close enough he can probably hear Tim's unsteady breathing—

Trade with @snailpdf 💖Did a scene from chapter 4 of his lovely fic 'The Devil Doesn't Bargain'

Check out the fic here 👉: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45903100

[coralhoneyrose]

Trying this new thing where I share preview passages a little more often, so have a snippet from the next Half Orange chapter:

It’s true, Robin thinks dizzily. Their reactions are the final nail in the coffin entrapping her with her own identity. She should be relieved; her entire plan banked on that very assumption. But standing there watching as death cultists fawn at her feet only makes her feel queasy. Queasy and crippled by guilt when she makes the mistake of glancing down. Questions blaze furiously at her from within Chrom’s eyes. He is never going to trust me again. Not after this. But she would rather lose Chrom’s faith in her than lose him. That thought alone compels her to keep up the ruse—her blade snug against his skin while she glares imperiously at the very fanatics she once led. With any luck, Nowi and Cordelia will have told the other Shepherds where she and Chrom went by now. If she can just buy them a little more time—

[bloatedandalone04]

Bets & Bargains - Part 8

Series Masterlist

➪in which bradley shows you just how skilled he is when he gets you alone, and you both find out a little more about your past relationships.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 5.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Isn’t the flannel I gave you enough?” Bradley asked with a laugh from his place on his bed, watching as you rummaged around in his closet. “What are you doing?”

“You seriously don’t have a UVA hoodie? You go here, don’t you?” You ask instead of answering his questions, your body being covered in the very flannel he gave you this morning before class. It was bigger on you than it was on him, so instead of it ending near your waist like it did with him, it fell to your mid thigh. 

He laughed again, leaning back against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him. “Yeah, but I don’t have a hoodie,”

You turn around and glare at him, stopping your search in his messy closet as you make your way to his unmade bed. “Well, get one,” you say and crawl over to him, sitting on your knees next to his thighs. 

“Why?” He asked, reaching over and placing his hand on your bare leg, your shorts doing nothing to cover your smooth skin from him. “So you can steal it, too?”

You smirk and lean over, ghosting your lips against his as you nod. “Exactly,” you answer, kissing him quickly before getting back up and heading towards his closet again. 

Bradley grunted at the short lived kiss, his eyes dipping down to the backs of your thighs as you turned away from him. “I already told you, babes,” he mumbled, propping one arm behind his head. “You won’t find one in there.”

You wave him off as your eyes lock onto something hung up on the far side of the closet, and you disappear behind the door for a few seconds before coming back out. “No, but look what I found instead,” you say in a tone that had his jeans tightening a bit. That and the way you bite down on your lip and hold up his football jersey he wore all throughout high school. 

“Oh,” he trailed off, forgetting he even had that in there. He hadn’t worn it or seen it since he moved into the frat house two years ago. 

“And look at that,” you say, more so to yourself as you turn the hanger around and look at the back of the red jersey. “It’s got your name on it and everything.”

“Yeah,” he huffed, bending one of his knees and propping his foot up. “The name everyone here calls me by.”

“Everyone but me,” you correct, using your freehand to start unbuttoning his flannel he was sure he was never getting back. 

“‘Cause you’re special,” he said, watching with darkening eyes as you shrug off the patterned fabric and let it drop to the floor. You were left in a floral crop top for only a few seconds before you took his jersey off the hanger and slipped it over your shoulders. “Fuck.”

The smile you gave him when you looked up had his jeans tightening even more as you held your arms out. “Well?” You asked, turning around and showing off his last name on your back. “What do you think?”

Bradley swallowed harshly, his hand itching to touch you as you spun to face him again. “I think...” he trailed off, meeting your eyes as he shifted on his bed. “You need to come here.”

You bite your lip again before leaning against the still open closet door, your fingers tracing along the frame of it. “But it’s so fun watching you squirm from over here,”

“Y/n,” he muttered, making your eyes widen in excitement. “Get over here. Now.”

You press your lips together and push away from the door, slowly making your way over to him as if you knew exactly what you were doing to him. “Did I do something wrong?” You sweetly asked, placing one knee on the bed as you kept a few inches of space between you and him. 

“No,” he managed to answer, reaching out and wrapping his hand around your wrist. He pulls you fully onto the bed and onto his lap, your body settling on his similar to the way it was in his Jeep. “No, baby, you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

He was answering a question you had teasingly asked him, and he knew that you were well aware of the fact that you held a certain power over him in this moment. “You sure?” You asked as you braced your hands on his shoulders. 

“Shut up,” Bradley murmured, catching the smallest glimpse of your grin before he pressed his lips to yours. The content moan you release against his mouth and the way your body slowly rolled on top of his had Bradley squeezing his eyes tightly shut, still in disbelief that you were able to make him feel like this. 

He had no idea why, but the sight of you wearing something he used to care so much about was doing things to him, and the way you were wearing his fucking last name was almost too much. It was as if you were his; his to claim, to brand, and he supposed you actually are since he asked you to be his girlfriend yesterday. 

You’re his girlfriend. 

Bri had dumped him a week ago this morning, and he had already found himself another girlfriend. Was that too fast? Maybe, but Bradley honestly didn’t just see you as his girlfriend; he sees you as the person he clicked with pretty much instantly and has a lot of fun with. The things he’s felt with you, done with you, and talked to you about had never been a factor in his relationship with Bri, and maybe that made her reason to break up with him a good one since he clearly didn’t feel as strongly about her as he initially thought he did. 

Bradley moves one of his hands down to your hip, then to the back of your thigh. He could feel the goosebumps that formed on your skin and he smirked against your lips. “Have I told you how gorgeous you are yet?” He asked as he slid this right thigh in between both of yours, pulling away from your mouth and running the tip of his nose along the side of your neck. 

“Um,” you trailed off breathlessly, clearly dropping your mocking attitude and making him grin since he knew he had you right where he wanted you. “No, not yet.”

Bradley ran his tongue along your neck, inhaling the rose scent of your perfume that went very well with the floral shirt you had on under his jersey. “Well,” he murmured, kissing the skin below your ear. “You’re fucking gorgeous.”

The moan you let out went right to his cock, and without another word being said, he turned you over and pinned your hands above your head and under his pillow. “Bradley,” you whispered, leaning up and trying to kiss him but he pulled away with a smirk on his lips.

You huff out a breath as he kisses down your neck, sucking on your pulse point until your skin was a deep red. He marked you like you had done to him on Friday, and he soothed the irritated skin with his tongue afterwards. “I know,” he cooed, beaming at the mark he knew would darken by the next time he sees you. 

He gently pushes the jersey up until your lower stomach is exposed to his relentless mouth, his lips pressing on every new inch of skin revealed. You moan softly, hesitantly reaching out to him and making him lift his head. “Um,” you trailed off, giving him an embarrassed smile. “Can I…?”

Bradley smiled at you and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to the area below your belly button, and it grew when he saw the way you shuddered. “You can touch me,” he answered the question you didn’t finish asking, taking your hand in his and guiding it to the top of his head when he saw the way you still looked hesitant. “I’m your boyfriend now, you can touch me wherever you want.”

He was trying to get a point across to you, but even Bradley was still in a bit of shock that he is already officially dating you. Is it too quick? Probably. Did he honestly, truly care? Not a single fucking bit. 

You relaxed once he reminded you that it was more than okay to touch him, and the sight of you leaning back against his pillow was enough to have his mind clouding over with sinful thoughts. Even though you pretty much established it, he still asked, “Can I touch you?”

Bradley watched as you bit down on your lip and nodded slowly, trailing your fingers through his hair. “Yeah,” you answered verbally consented before he could ask you for it, and that was all he really needed. 

The hot makeout and grind session he had with you in the front seat of his Jeep didn’t really allow him to explore your body like this, and after being so into you from the second he saw you, he felt like he was a starved man. Now that he had your full consent and had established a mutual understanding, he wasn’t holding back. He pushed the jersey and your floral shirt up higher until it was just barely still covering your bra, his head dipping down to kiss all over your ribcage. 

Your skin was so smooth and it smelled like a mix of roses and coconut, a scent Bradley didn’t realize he loved so much. His lips were pressed to your hip when his hand slid up your thigh and began to unzip your jean shorts, and that was when your pretty moans stopped and your body jolted a bit. “Wait,” you gasped quietly, reaching down with the hand that wasn’t in his hair and grabbing his wrist. 

Bradley stopped instantly, lifting his head from your kiss coated stomach and looking up at you. “Sorry,” he apologized, moving his hand away from your unzipped shorts. “Too fast?” You hadn’t actually mentioned how far you wanted this to go, and Bradley was more than okay with you stopping it now. He was in no rush right now, and whatever you wanted was what he wanted. 

When he began to lift his body from between your thighs, you whimpered. “Wait,” you said again, softly tugging on his hair. He paused, his shoulders pressed to your knees as he waited for you to continue. “Sorry, I’m sorry. I’m being weird.” You mumbled and Bradley laughed, turning his head to kiss the side of your knee. 

“Don’t be sorry, baby,” he murmured, sliding his wrist away from your grasp and taking your hand in his. “Just tell me what you want.” 

A pink tint ghosted over your face as you pressed your lips together. “Is it okay if we….don’t rush the sex thing?” You asked and Bradley opened his mouth to tell you that he was more than okay with that, but you continued before he could say anything. “I’m not, like, a virgin or anything…I just…I really like you, Bradley, and I don’t want to rush into things, you know?”

Bradley smiled up at you and kissed your knee again, humming in agreement. “Oh, trust me, I know,” he grinned, resting his head against your thigh. “I really like you, too, and I don’t want to rush things either.”

The smile you gave him had his heart beating wildly in his chest as you nodded. “Okay,” you whispered, trailing your fingers along his cheek. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

“‘Course, babes,” he mumbled, reaching up to tug his jersey back down so it was covering your stomach again. “Do you want to stop then?”

Bradley went to get up again, but you stopped him once more. “Well, I didn’t say that…” The hint of nervousness mixed with sultry had him settling in between your legs again, a teasing smile on his lips. 

“So what are you saying?” He asked as he ran his index finger along the waistline of your shorts. 

You bit your lip again and he had to hold back a groan. “We could still...you know,” you trail off and whine - you actually whined in a way that had his jeans suddenly feeling a whole lot tighter - when he just raised his brow. “Don’t make me say it, please.”

Bradley huffed out a laugh before simply asking, “Do you want me to go down on you?” 

He could hear the way your breath got caught in your throat, and he guessed you weren’t used to someone being so forward, but you would have to get used to that now that you’re dating him, because he considered himself to be a very forward guy. 

Your thighs twitched a bit, like you were aching to rub them together to create friction. “Um,” you mumbled, scratching the top of his head as you ran your fingers through his hair. “If…you want to.”

Bradley smiled and kissed the inside of your thigh, noticing how it twitched once again. “But what do you want?”

You pressed your lips together again before answering in a quiet tone. “I want you to go down on me,” 

He grinned at the very small fraction of confidence in your tone before he lifted his body and pressed your thighs together, his fingers hooking through your shorts belt loops. You watched with your teeth digging into your lip as Bradley slowly pulled the jean fabric down your legs, and his eyes darkened a bit at the pretty black lace that covered your core. 

After craving you for days on end, Bradley wasn’t in the mood to hold back right now. He leaned back down and pressed his lips to the fabric, kissing your clit through your panties. Your stomach tensed a bit and your breath hitched, and he wondered if Luke had been doing his job in keeping you satisfied with this part of your relationship. 

He assumed you and Luke slept together since you were dating for so long, but the way you were already whimpering for him made Bradley think your ex was pretty shit in bed. 

What a shame, because Bradley was effortlessly getting hard from just the sound of you.

Bradley ran the tip of his nose down the lace, feeling how damp the fabric was before running his tongue along it and making it even more wet. “Bradley,” you moaned his name in the same way you did the first time he got you alone like this on Friday, and it sounded just as hot as it did then. 

You whimpered again and propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him with wide eyes. He met your gaze with a small smirk as he continued to tease you by kissing you through the lace. He licked and sucked until the fabric was soaked from both you and him, and only then did he slowly pull it down your legs and let it drop to the floor beside his bed. 

The sight of your lower half being completely exposed to him had Bradley feeling a little feral, and he couldn’t bring himself to wait any longer. He met your gaze, your eyes full of lust and anticipation, as his mouth met your core, his tongue poking out to taste you. 

He groaned. He actually groaned at the taste of you. He’d been craving to find out how sweet you were when he watched you fall apart on his lap in the front seat, and now he knew. 

Your quiet gasp had him refraining from bucking against the bed, his hands sliding under your thighs as he pressed his face closer to you. “Oh, God,” he heard you whisper and it only fueled him. 

His tongue slipped out and circled your clit, the sensitive nerves throbbing against it. You were already so worked up, he could tell. You were shaking a bit and your hand was tight in his hair as he slowly ran the muscle up and down your folds. “You taste so good, baby,” he murmured, feeling the way your body jolted at his words. “So fucking sweet.” 

You draped your legs over his shoulders with the help of his hands, and then you were back to tugging on his hair. “Bradley,” you moaned when he took your clit between his lips and sucked harshly. 

“You like that?” He asked as he pulled away to glance up at you. When you nodded and shifted against the bed, he leaned back down and did it again, wanting to find out all the ways he can make you squirm. He wanted to find out what you liked, what got you off and what makes you get loud. 

With that being said, Bradley could tell you were holding back right now. You were biting harshly on your lip and he could see the way you were tightening your chest. He trailed his hand up your thigh as he pulled his mouth away from you, using his fingers to gather up your wetness. “You’re trying to be quiet,” he observed, pushing just the tip of his index finger through your folds. 

You look down at him with flushed, red cheeks as you press your lips together. “I…”

“Don’t be embarrassed to talk to me, babes,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss your hip, leaving behind a wet mark. 

You whimper as he slowly sinks his whole finger into you, and you felt so tight, he wasn’t entirely convinced you’d ever been fully worked open yet. “I’m just not used to...being loud,” you confess, leaning further back on your elbows. “Luke didn’t…he didn’t really…”

Bradley understood what you were saying without you actually needing to finish that sentence, and it was just another reason for him to strongly dislike your ex. “You can be loud with me,” he whispered, beginning to gently fuck his finger into you. “I want you to be.”

The moan you let out at that was just what he’d been wanting to hear, and then you were blushing again. “W-what about your roommates? Eli-”

“They’re not here,” he promised, not wanting to hear another guy’s name come from your mouth when he was currently trying to make you come with his. Hearing Luke’s name was bad enough. “You can be as loud as you want to be, baby.”

Maybe he was trying to get you there with his use of that nickname since you told him how much you love hearing him call you it, and maybe that was cruel, but he couldn’t bring himself to care since you slowly fell back on his pillow and let out a moan that was little louder than your previous ones.

Bradley grinned and leaned back down. “There you go,” he praised and you only whimpered louder. You had a thing for praise, he could tell, and he couldn’t wait to explore that further with you when and if you decide you want to. 

He softly circled your clit with his tongue as he slid his middle finger into your tight walls to join his other one, and you arched your back and clung onto his hair with a firmer grip. “Bradley,” you moaned and closed your eyes as he slowly but surely got you there. “Oh, my God.”

He hummed against your nerves, and the way your body trembled at it gave him the indication that you were close. He continued to tease your clit as he fucked his fingers a bit faster into you, loving the way your thighs jolted with barely-there control. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbled, kissing your swollen clit. “Taste so good.” 

You became a whimpering, whining mess as he fucked you with his tongue alongside his fingers, and your hand tightened on his hair. “Bradley,”

He moaned at the sound of his name falling from your lips, savoring the sweet taste of you. “Are you gonna come?” He asked, glancing up at you as you nodded desperately. 

Bradley had to use his free hand to pin your thigh down as you tried to close your legs, your volume growing with each second that passed. “Fuck,” you gasped, gripping his pillow with the hand that wasn’t currently pulling his hair out.

“Do it,” he coaxed softly, swirling his tongue against you. “Come for me. Let me taste how sweet you are.”

The sound you let out was one that could be found in a porno, and then he felt your release coat his tongue. You lifted your back off the bed as you came, broken whimpers escaping your lips as you gently grinded against his face. “Fuck,” you cried, shaking as he finally pulled away and sat back on his knees. 

Your eyes were wide as you glanced down and noticed how tight his jeans had gotten, and you let out uneven breaths as you gestured to his obvious hard-on. “Do you want…want me to-”

“It’s okay,” Bradley hummed, slowly pulling his fingers out of you and nearly groaning at the wetness coated on them. “You catch your breath, baby, I’ll be fine.”

Then he took his fingers into his mouth and cleaned you off them, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. “Bradley…”

He smiled as he pulled his fingers out of his mouth and traced his bottom lip with his tongue. “Been wanting to do that since Friday night,” he confessed and took in how fucked out you looked; thighs spread, core wet from what he just did to it, your hair messy and his damn jersey on your body. “Damn, baby, if you could see what I see right now…fuck.”

You let out a quiet laugh as he helped you get your lower half dressed again before he moved to lay next to you. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled your body against his as your hand trailed down the front of his shirt. “You’re kind of stupidly good at that,” you mumble and he grunted with a smile. 

“Am I?” He teased as you looked back down at his less obvious boner. “Don’t worry about it. It’ll go away soon.” It probably wouldn’t. 

You sigh and nod, looking up at him with a small, pretty smile before you are leaning up and kissing him deeply. “Next time, it’s my turn,” you stated and he held back a groan as you kissed him again. 

-

Tuesday was an easy school day for you.

Classes flew by, and before you knew it you were leaving Mr. Clarke’s class at three in the afternoon and heading back to your place. Sam was nowhere to be found and you let out a sigh as you dropped your bag onto the couch and sat next to it. 

You propped your legs up on the coffee table, your mind going back to last night when Bradley got you off with his tongue and fingers. He made it look so easy and had you shaking and whimpering within seconds. It was hard not to compare him to Luke, who had only gone down on you twice in the three years you were together. 

When Bradley pointed out how quiet you were being, you were instantly reminded of all the times Luke would hush you or put his hand over your mouth during sex so only his grunts were heard. Bradley was so different. It was like he could almost get off to the sounds of your moans, while Luke preferred not to hear them. 

Bradley made you feel so good last night, you weren’t sure you had ever felt like that in your entire life. It should concern you, but you were thriving off it, happy that he was the only one who had gotten you off so good. Everything felt amazing with him, so you weren’t entirely surprised he was able to kick off your sex life like that. 

To put it simply, sex had never been a big deal to you in the past, but now you couldn’t fucking wait to do more things with him. 

You quickly became bored and reached for your phone, smiling at the picture of Bradley’s scrunched up face in the picture you set as his contact. 

When’s your class over today? I’m bored :( 

Fratley ❤️❤️: It was over at 1. I’m in town right now, heading back. Milkshakes? ;) 

You groaned at how he easily just released butterflies in your stomach without even being here, and you quickly answered him as you bit down on your lip,

Please. And I need to start paying attention to your class schedule. 

Fratley ❤️❤️: You and me both… be there soon. 

You smiled and leaned back against the couch as you began flipping through random channels on the small TV, missing the bigger one in Bradley’s living room. 

Not long after, there were a couple knocks on the door, and you shifted as you called out, “It’s open,” then Bradley was walking in with two milkshakes in one hand, a bouquet of daisies in the other, and his school bag slung over his shoulder. “Oh, look who’s knocking now.”

Bradley shook his head with an eye roll as he set the shakes down onto the coffee table and handed you the flowers. “I don’t know if you lock your door or not,” he defended himself as he dropped his bag onto the area rug and sat next to you, leaning over to kiss you quickly. 

You smile against his lips and look at the daisies when you pull away. “These are pretty,” 

Bradley gave them a quick glance before grabbing his chocolate shake and leaning back, draping his arm over your shoulders. “Something pretty for my girl,” he answered simply as if it was no big deal, but you were three seconds away from pouncing on him. 

You bring the flowers to your nose before whispering, “I love them,” and nuzzling against his side. “Thank you. And thank you for the shake.”

Bradley hummed as he kissed the top of your head, ditching the paper straw and just sipping the drink right from the cup. “You’re welcome,” 

You sit in silence for a few seconds, and you thought now might be a good time to have the whole ‘sex’ conversation with him. After setting the flowers onto the table next to your milkshake, you lean against his side again and look up at him, watching as he meets your gaze with a smile. “So…about last night,” you began, playing with the buttons on his green flannel that matched the blue one you had on your desk chair. 

Bradley smirked and leaned over to set his drink down before turning back to you. “Yeah?” He teased, reaching over to grab your waist. “You want a second round?” 

You bit your lip and laughed as he leaned down to kiss the side of your neck, right on the spot he left a hickey last night. “I wanted to talk about…that,” you murmured and he stopped kissing you pretty quickly, pulling away to look you in the eyes. 

“Did I overstep?” He asked, loosening his grip on your waist. “Were you not ready? I’m sorry, I should’ve-”

You shake your head and move closer to him. “No, it was perfect, and you were perfect,” you assure him and watch as a faint blush formed on his cheeks and the way he leaned back against the couch again. 

“Perfect, huh?”

You nod and move so your legs are draped over his thighs. “I wanted to talk about the whole sex thing,” you muttered, suddenly embarrassed. Was this really necessary? But now Bradley had given you his full attention, and you were quickly learning that it was okay to embarrass yourself in front of him. “Like I said last night, I’m not a virgin, I’ve had sex. Luke was my first and…my only.”

Bradley’s eyes widened at bit at that but he didn’t say anything to make you feel even more embarrassed, so you went on, 

“As you know, we were together for three years, and he only did what you did to me last night twice during our whole relationship,” 

“Twice?” Bradley asked in disbelief, the hand of his arm that was around your shoulder beginning to trace random shapes onto the skin of your bicep. “That’s it?”

You nodded and looked away, wanting to grab your milkshake and press the cool cup against your warm face. “And he and I didn’t really have sex much. You could tell last night that I was holding back, and that was because Luke didn’t like it when I got too loud in bed,” you confessed and looked back at Bradley, seeing the way his brows had furrowed. “And he…told me that he wasn’t really satisfied with our sex life, so that’s why we didn’t do it much.”

Bradley raised his brows and scoffed, looking at the TV before back at you. “You know, I really, really don’t like your ex,” he muttered. “He sounds like a real asshole.”

You shake your head and play with his flannel buttons again. “He wasn’t all that bad…he was good to me, he just wasn’t happy with that part of our relationship,” you shrugged, looking up at his brown eyes. “So, I’m letting you know now that if, after last night, you don’t want to do that again or anything else with me, I totally get it.”

“Babes,” Bradley let out another laugh of disbelief. “I’ve been wanting to do that for days. Just the quick hookup we had in my car was enough to have me craving you in that way, and last night? Baby, last night was amazing. I loved hearing you get loud for me, and I loved touching you and kissing you like that. Of course I want to do it again.”

You blushed and pressed your lips together. “Really?”

“Yeah, baby, really,” he confirmed, gently gripping your chin and kissing you deeply. “I definitely want to feel you come on my tongue again. One hundred percent.” 

Your blush deepens as you bury your face against his neck. “Bradley,”

He laughed, the deep rumble making you hold back a moan. “Listen, I’m not Luke, okay? If you want to get loud, fucking scream for me, baby. The louder the better,” he murmured and you pulled back to look up at him. “And if you want me to go down on you, just say the words and I’ll gladly do it. I’m so into you, Y/n. I’ll take anything I can get.”

His words were everything you didn’t know you needed to hear, and you reached up to caress his face with a lazy smile on your face. “You’re too good to be true,”

Bradley laughed again and looked down. “I guess it’s my turn to talk about my past experiences, too, right?”

You quickly shake your head, “You don’t have to-”

“No, I want to,” he said as he shifted and and trailed his hand up and down your leg. “Here comes that super embarrassing story I mentioned before our second date.”

Your second date - the one at Five Guys, which is ironically where he had gotten the milkshakes you were sipping from now. “The one about your possessive ex who leaves hickeys that look extremely painful?” You teased, poking the faint mark you had left on his throat on Friday. 

Bradley nodded, looking down at you with a small grin. “Yeah, Bri. Her and I went out for almost a year, and she broke up with me because I didn’t put enough effort into our relationship,” he started. “She was probably right, since I’ve taken you out more than I took her out in eleven months.”

You covered your mouth with your hand as you waited for him to go on, a sense of pride filling you from his words. 

“When she broke up with me, which was right after we had sex, by the way, she told me that sex is all I’m good for and that I’m a terrible boyfriend,” he said and now it was your turn to furrow your brows. “She said something about coming back to me just so I can fuck her again, because I’m apparently good in bed, then she went and got with another guy in front of me, in my own house.”

“Jesus, Bradley,” you mumbled as you moved closer to him. “I think I know how you feel about Luke now since I feel the same way about Bri.”

He laughed, shaking his head before burying his face against the side of your neck. “Yeah, we sure know how to pick them, huh?”

You laugh, too, before taking in his words, and a feeling of jealousy slowly creeped into you. “I’m just going to say it now, if she thinks she can come back just so you can fuck her…” You trailed off and he pulled away from your neck with an amused look on his face. “That is not going to happen.”

Bradley hummed and nodded, leaning in to kiss you. “Agreed,” he mumbled against your lips, grabbing your waist afterwards and pulling you onto his lap. “Now come here. I’ve been thinking about you since last night.”

[shanastoryteller]

SPEAK OF HER

Summary: She's just his widow.

aka post-Endgame Pepper/Tony Orpheus and Eurydice AU

[scriberated]

Necessity's Bargain Chapter 8 [COMPLETE]

Chapter 8: betrayal [NSFW] || Ao3

Chapter Summary:

We are dying by the thousands, starving and being hunted, and he’s here with you, playing house. And breaking the rules, no less. How long did you actually remain blindfolded?” he asked, lip curling.

“What are you talking about?” Galadriel asked, more angry than she was frightened.

He considered her for a long moment before carefully making his way to the table and pouring out two glasses of wine, sliding one across the table towards her. Stepping back, he took a long drink from his glass, unperturbed by the threat she posed. “Your presence here,” he began, speaking slowly, “was part of a larger bargain with our master, and it had rules that were to be obeyed. He has broken them.”

“Your master?” Galadriel asked, feeling the bite of the cold air more acutely.

“Take the wine,” the Elf said pityingly, looking at her with gentle scorn.

Work Summary: 1st Age Cupid & Psyche inspired AU. The crossing of the Helcaraxë is harsh and terrible. Wounded, weary, and running out of supplies, Galadriel ventures alone into the dark forest to gather supplies and meets a benevolent spirit, one who offers much needed aid to her people in exchange for three favors. The catch? She must agree before knowing what those favors are.

For her people, there is nothing she would not do. Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings Ships: Galadriel | Artanis/Sauron | Mairon Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, 1st Age AU,Helcaraxë, First Kiss, First Time, Faustian Bargain, Desperation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sensory Deprivation, Disrespected boundaries, Seduction, Accidental Plot, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Voyeurism, Hair-pulling, Blindfolds, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilungus, Deconstruction of Elven Purity Culture, Light Dom/Sub, First Time Blow Jobs, Dry Humping, Vaginal Sex, Loss of Virginity, Hurt No Comfort, Angst

[goddesspharo]

fic: it takes an ocean not to break Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman/Phoenix, Rooster & Phoenix)

The good one breaks her heart and the bad one picks up the pieces and it is all disgustingly cliché, down to the way she breathes against his ear that this can't happen even though she already knows that it will, over and over and over again.

[thelovelyspirit-collab-fics]

@officialfeysandweek Day 4: Bargains

Read on Ao3

Summary: A fever has been sweeping the village for over a month now, devistating family after family. Already grieving their mother's death days before, Feyre is unwilling to lose her sister from the same fever. Without the help of the village doctors, she's now forced to take a less favorable route.

For her sister, she'll bargain with the fae.

AN: Happy Feysand Week, y'all. It’s @starfall-spirit and you’re watching Disney Channel I’m so happy to share the first chapter of my current collab with @thelovelymadone based off of this text post by @deluxeloy. Enjoy!

Passion is the truest state of the fae spirit. Follow your instincts and act on your impulses. Live life to the fullest without regard to the consequences—they will come about regardless of what you do.

~The Unseelie Code

Chapter I

The evening woods were eerily quiet as Feyre tracked the sound of a nearby stream. The almost-silence was enough to push her closer to the edge of fear, her nerves surrounding that night’s plan doing nothing to help. Because what waited for her when the stream met the lake…

Feyre couldn’t believe she was doing this. And yet, what other choice did she have? The fever had already claimed her mother, now Elain was bedridden too, eyes glazed more often than not, trembling with fever beneath the meager covers she and Nesta had managed to gather.

It had started about a month prior. Though winter had fully yielded to spring, a fever common to colder weather had started spreading among the children playing in the village streets, just as easily carried home to their doting mothers and fathers. Then four children from different homes died, one after the next. Their families had no one to support them in their grieving period.

All because that tragedy had been accompanied by a frightening word of the trusted village doctor: mutation. A virus one could brush off in a few days had turned deadly.

Less than a week ago her mother had shown symptoms, passed them to Elain two days later. If her sister was only meant to last the same span of time, she’d be dead by the next dawn. Even if they had money for a doctor, there were few in their village with true medical training, most of them too frightened of catching the illness to treat it.

Feyre was left with only one option. The Faerie Wood.

The enchanted forest seemed more sinister than enchanting with moonlight as her only guide. It fed that fear born of the tales her childhood nanny had told her some fifteen years ago to keep her in bed.

There is a portal just past our village border, invisible to the human eye, you know. Leads right to the Unseelie Court. It’s High Lord has servants and spies who stand at the veil, searching for naughty children to drag through. You girls best behave, or tomorrow morning it’ll be a few of their changelings waking in your beds.

Feyre and her sisters had stopped associating the kidnappings with household shenanigans a few years later, but that maturity hadn’t completely erased the fact some from their village had gone missing overnight. Whether human or fae, the abductors didn’t seem to favor an age group either. She was never quite sure how to react when she saw the people she’d known since birth wailing at the loss of a spouse who had been lured from their bed or an infant snatched from its cradle.

Would her wish be granted, she wondered, or would she be stolen away before she could voice it, simply for daring to ask?

A cold draft rattled the trees, chilling her down to her bones, far too cold to be considered natural for a spring evening in their region. Consulting her rudimentary map for what felt like the millionth time, she had to assume the biting air had something to do with approaching the Unseelie Gateway—if this was its true location.

The forest lightened then, startling Feyre enough that she paused on the trail, lifting her gaze from the parchment. Dawn was hours out still. The pale light wasn’t from the sun, but… starlight. If she wasn’t in The Faerie Wood, she would have thought she was suffering hallucinations without the fever that accompanied them. But sure enough, stars were lighting the trail like a dusting of breadcrumbs down to the water at the forest’s edge. Confident now she was on the right path, she quickened her pace until she broke the tree line, slightly unsteady when the shed foliage transitioned to pebbles and stones beneath her flimsy boots.

A dozen yards and she’d be at the edge of the lake. If the stories were true, the crystal clear water before her was the gateway itself. Even now, before she reached the edge of the water a faerie would sense her as a trespasser and weigh the question inside of her to deem her worthy of its help or declare her the next victim of some ruthless immortal’s game. If she was being honest with herself, she had no idea whether she wanted all of that to be the truth or utter nonsense. If it was true, at least she’d have a clue what she was getting herself into.

“Of course it’s true, darling. Outlandish as your childhood tales may seem, they need a bit of the truth to become anything significant.” Shaking from head to toe, Feyre frantically scanned the forest and waters to locate the voice seeming to pour in from every direction. “Here, darling.”

Finally pinpointing the voice, she watched a man—if a faerie could be called something so simple—materialize from a pocket of shadows, the slightest smirk she sensed he often wore illuminated by the waxing moon.

She couldn’t help but stare, taking in the high cheekbones, the hard line of his jaw, the breadth of his shoulders his clean cut jacket was unable to hide. He was tall, too. Enough so that she’d be forced to tilt her head back of he closed the few yards between them to get a better look at her. Not that he’d need to, with faerie senses being significantly better than those of a human.

Terrified—and worse than that, flustered beneath his undivided attention—Feyre couldn’t begin to think of a proper way to show deference. She fell back on instinct, dropping into a clumsy curtsy even the snap of a rod had never been able to perfect.

“I come in need of a favor,” she said simply, not wanting to risk offending the man by addressing him with the wrong title. Surely the curtsy had been safe. Dressed like that, carrying himself tall, he had to be some sort of gentleman or noble among his kind. Then again, most gentlemen she’d met weren’t built like a soldier in service. “My sister needs help.”

He cocked his head. “Come closer, darling. I can hardly hear you.” She stayed rooted to the spot. How easy would it be for a man like that to pull her beneath the surface of the glassy lake? Drown her or drag her down into his world of wicked things? No, she’d be staying right where she stood. “Have it your way.”

Just like that he folded into a flurry of shadow, reappearing mere feet in front of her, hand tucked casually into his pockets. It took everything in her not to scramble away. “Now, tell me more, pet.”

“My sister is ill. She’ll be dead by morning. I want to bargain for her life. If you’d be so gracious,” she tacked on.

He considered her request for a moment, seeming to study her more than anything. “Most young woman are warned against these woods.” He leaned forward slightly. “Yet you’re here intentionally, asking to bargain. My, things must be dire.” She swallowed hard. “Just what are you willing to offer, darling?”

“I don’t…” It had to be a fool’s choice to tell a faerie to craft the bargain to his own liking, but Feyre had a fair idea of what men usually wanted and she highly doubted the man she now faced had any desire for mortal coin or the intimate company of a human woman. She wasn’t sure she could puzzle out something that interested him, being so unsure of faerie customs.

“Could I simply owe you a favor?” she offered, hoping and praying that would provide a solution for the time being and wouldn’t bite her in the ass further down the road. “To call in when you require assistance.”

He chuckled and the little flame of hope winked out. “Darling, you’re asking me to help you defy the nature of life. It’s going to cost you more than a favor. No, I fear this bargain will require something a bit more… substantial.” Feyre crossed her arms, but held her stance. “Your firstborn,” he purred.

She blinked, lost for words. “Excuse me?”

“Your firstborn child is the price I demand.”

“That—” She bit her lip, finally retreating a step. She couldn’t think with him so close, the combination of his salt and citrus scent and unyielding stare unnerving. “I never intended to marry, let alone have children,” she admitted.

“You wouldn’t change your mind on that to save your sister’s life? And you humans call my kind cruel.”

“I didn’t say—” Feyre huffed. “If that is the price, I will pay it.”

“Very well, darling.” There was a sharp tingling up her right arm. From her fingertips to her elbow a black swirling pattern crawled up her arm, the color much like tattoo ink. Before she could express her anger at being marked against her will the design vanished, leaving her arm bare once again. “The ink of the Unseelie Court can only be seen in the land of Faerie.”

Raw dread chilled her down to the bone. “You intend to take me there?” Feyre asked. He raised a brow. “For the, um, conception?”

~~~~~

Rhys had no reason to bring the girl into his domain. He’d had no intention of claiming her beyond the bargain mark, if he was being honest. He assumed when making his proposal that she would find a nice man in the village to father the child and that would be that. Despite what rumors claim, most of the stolen children lived fulfilling lives among the court. Occasionally things got out of hand with the crueler crowd, but the same could be said of humans who kept servants and entertainers.

But dear Feyre had interpreted the bargain incorrectly, assuming he meant to drag her to his bed. Studying the human once again, it was far too easy to imagine her carrying his heir. And then a few more to follow. He could pretend he had a decision to make, but deep down, he already knew the path was decided.

“Your sister’s health has been restored. Your family and neighbors will forget the illness ever burdened her, though there’s nothing I can do to bring back your mother.”

“I understand,” she said softly.

“You will let me escort you to the Court tonight. After the child is born you can decide whether you wish to return to the human world or live among the Unseelie to raise the child.”

A strange sort of tension settled between them. He imagined leaving the child behind would be difficult, even if she didn’t desire a family.

Even if she thought the babe to be more monster than human.

“How are…” Feyre crossed her arms, curling in on herself a bit. “How are humans treated there? Poorly, I imagine. I just want to prepare myself for the worst.”

Rhys closed the distance between them in two strides, lifting her chin so she’d meet his eyes again. “My guests, Feyre darling, are treated with respect.” He let his grip tighten ever so slightly before bending to brush his lips along the shell of her ear. “No one touches what belongs to the High Lord.”