#if someone said anything like this to me i'd drop to my knees on the spot and beg for their hand in marriage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

koishiro · 1 year

Note

Can you make a story where the reader isn’t a dom?

a/n: 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 😔

Brat | Jungkook 방탄소년단

↳ summary: Jungkook needs to teach his little brat a lesson she’ll never forget

↳ pairing: husband!Jungkook x fem!wife!reader

↳ genre: smut

↳ cw/s: spanking, kook ties you up, unprotected sex, cumming inside, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving)

"Why won't you just admit that I'm right and you’re wrong?"

What could I say to that? When she turns into a brat, there's just no sense in arguing, because no amount of logic can possibly penetrate the pride.

I simply glared at her and stood tall. That's when I caught the hint of a wicked grin at the corner of her lips.

"Because," she continued, "There is no way that you’re right about this. I'm right and you.are.wrong"

She took a step closer to me.

"You’re being a brat," I said.

She giggled and took another step. We were less than a yard apart.

"That's got nothing to do with anything. I'm still right" That wicked grin exploded across her face and I was hooked. My heart started pounding and my mouth went wet.

"Au contraire," I said, raising one eyebrow. "That's got everything to do with it, because there's no way someone who was right would resort to being a brat. Since you’re acting like a spoiled little girl, you are most definitely in the wrong and I am right”

"Noth-ing to do with it!" She repeated followed by her sticking her tongue out at me.

"Oh yeah?" My argument had been so good a second ago, now all I had left was fourth grade?

She didn't even answer. She just shook her hips. That's when I broke.

"Come here," I said, and I grabbed her by both wrists. "Let's go to the bedroom and sort this out like adults”

"Oh no you don't," she said, but she didn't resist while I tugged her toward the stairs and led her down to the bedroom.

I took her in my arms and kissed her behind the ear causing her to squeal and try and squirm away, but I held her firm. I gave her earlobe a nibble and felt her knees buckle and her breath catch.

"Stop it!" she called out, between gasps. I let go of her ear.

"Stop it? Is that because you know I'm right?"

"No!"

She sounded defiant, but her grin was pure lust.

"Are you looking for a spanking? Is that it? Because you are acting like a total brat and you're going to get one”

I didn't wait for a response. I picked her up in my arms, my left arm behind her back, my right under her knees. She squealed again and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.

"Put me down!" she laughed.

I gently set her down on the bed, but flipped her onto her stomach and before she had her balance, then planted myself astride her ass.

Gathering her wrists in my left hand, I went into my nightstand drawer and pulled out one of my black ties. I looped the material through the slats in the headboard and soon had them tied securely around each wrist.

"Hey!" she protested. I got off her ass and stood next to her on the bed.

"Well?" I said, sternly. "Are you going to say you're sorry?"

"I'm right! You need to apologize to me”

"Mm hmm”

She watched me intently while I calmly stripped off my shirt and tossed it into the hamper. I undid my belt and pulled it swiftly through the loops. Cocking an eyebrow at her again as she bit her lip. I nodded and dropped the belt on the bed. It would be there when I needed it.

I slowly and deliberately unfastened each button of my jeans, then dropped them to the floor and stepped out of them, leaving me in my boxer shorts. I could tell she was hoping I'd pull my cock out and let her suck me until I forgot all about punishing her, but not this time. I was going to make this little brat admit that her husband was right.

She wore a sheer white lace blouse and a pair of tight blue jeans, fitting her just right.

"So," I whispered, lifting the back of her shirt slightly, "Which is it going to be? Good girl...?" I gave a kiss to top of her back, drawing a sigh from her. "Or brat?" I finished, kissing my way down to the hem of her jeans.

“You’re wrong” I put my hands on her ass cheeks and gave them a quick squeeze, just to let her know they were on my mind. I reached underneath for the snap to her jeans where she helpfully raised her hips for me.

"You know, sweetheart," I teased, as I yanked the snap open and pulled down the zipper. "You are heading for a monster spanking if you don't own up to the fact that your husband is right”

She just shook her head. I let go of her hips and she settled down on the bed again. I pulled her jeans over her hips, exposing the cute white thong with black polka dots that I had bought her for Valentine's Day. Her beautiful ass was on display, just for me.

"Up on your knees, brat," I ordered after successfully pulling off her jeans, "It's time for your spanking”

"What?" she protested. "This is so unfair!"

I forcefully lifted her hips with a strength that caught her off guard. She pulled her knees up with a gasp, ending up on all fours but with her arms stretched out before her, tethered to the headboard. The thong left her cheeks nicely exposed for the spanking I was about to deliver as I stood to her left and gave her right cheek a tender stroke. I smiled to myself: this was going to be fun.

The first spank was a quick but stinging slap to her left cheek. She jumped and a little squeak burst from her lips. I knelt on the bed and placed my left hand possessively between her shoulder blades, holding her down a little. Then I started giving her a proper spanking.

I struck her left cheek again with a loud smack! I slapped it twice more before having at her right. I slapped her right cheek twice with brisk, upward-angled strokes that produced a satisfying clap.

"Owww!" she protested when I stopped after the fifth spank. "Stop it!"

I ran my hands lightly over the skin, sending a shiver through her body.

"Stop it? Why is that, hunny?" I taunted. "Is it because I'm right?"

"No! Stop being mean. I'm right!"

"Oh, I see," I answered. She looked back at me, pleading with her eyes. I just shook my head with disappointment and spanked her right cheek again — much harder. She gasped. I struck her left cheek, swinging my hand from over my shoulder.

"Eep!" she squeaked.

I turned my body toward her feet a little more for a better angle and began raining blows down on her ass. I spanked her hard, targeting different parts of her butt until both cheeks were bright red. She cried out with every slap — and especially loudly when I smacked the sensitive junction where ass met leg.

I stopped abruptly, panting from the exertion.

"Ow ow ow!" she said. Her eyes were watery. "That’s not fair!"

I scooted over behind her and planted soft kisses on the burning red skin. She gave a little sigh, but continued to protest her mistreatment. "I'm not wrong, really I'm not. Please stop. I'm sorry..."

I liked her attempt at an apology, short of the mark though it was, so I needed to give her a bit of a reward before her punishment resumed. I took hold of the sides of her thong and tugged it down over her hips, pulling it down her legs, up and over her feet and tossed it across the room. I knelt between her legs and nudged her knees apart a bit.

"Please don't punish me any more," she begged. "It's not fair”

"I know it's not fair, but you need to admit that your I’m right" I slid my hand along the backs of her thighs until it reached the underside of her ass. I pushed slowly forward until my fingers found the soft skin of her labia.

She gasped and opened her legs slightly wider. "You know what’ll happen when you admit that I'm right and you're wrong," I teased, letting my fingertips glide along her lips. "I'll touch you so nice, hun. I'll make you feel so good. I'll give you such a reward, baby. All you have to do is say 'I'm wrong. My husband is right”

She made no answer; she just sighed and rotated her hips a little against my hand while I massaged her. The lips were swollen and parted easily when I probed with two fingertips. I felt her inner lips and the entrance to her cunt, wet and ready. She gave the cutest moan — the one that always makes me fall in love with her again. I couldn't resist feeling her, stiff and ready to be touched. But she still hadn't said the magic words.

"What do you say, baby? Is your husband right?"

"I mean," she sighed. "There are all kinds of ways to look at things, right? So maybe you're kind of right”

I stopped moving, scowling at her when she looked back over her shoulder to see my reaction. She didn't soften — she hardened.

"But I'm not wrong. I'm totally not wrong!"

"Admit you were wrong, baby” I commanded.

"Never!" she playfully defied.

I withdrew my hand from her pussy and placed both hands firmly on her ass.

"Then you need more discipline hm?”

I reached behind me and took ahold of my belt. If she was going to continue to be stubborn, I was ready to take it to the next level.

I folded the belt in half and gave a soft swing at the back of her right thigh. It struck with a bit more force than I'd intended and a CRACK reverberated around the bedroom. My wife cried out, "Ow!" I let my arms follow through, then reversed and backhanded her left thigh. CRACK! She twitched and pulled her legs up under her body, seeking cover for them. I scooted back a bit and then swung the belt swiftly onto each cheek of her ass.

"Please!" she called, after the four swats of the belt, but that was all.

I dropped the belt and stood up beside her head. She looked up at me with watery eyes. I slowly slid my boxers to the floor.

"Please what?" I teased, as I stroked my cock to fullness, inches from her lips.

"Please, no more of the belt”

"Do you promise to be good?"

"Yes, I'll be a good girl for you Kook, so good!”

My cock swelled in my hand. I leaned forward and she slipped her lips around it with practiced ease. Oh that felt good. She sucked on my cock with slight difficulty considering her hands were still tied. My left hand went to the back of her head, my right drifted down to caress her red ass.

"Yes, baby," I cooed. "Suck my cock the way you always do”

"Mmmm," she moaned on my dick.

I quickly pulled away from her mouth and got back behind her again. I started rubbing and grinding my cock onto her dripping pussy.

"You want this, baby?" I asked, tapping the head against her displayed clit.

"Yes, baby. Please”

"Oh I want to give it to you. I want to slide this cock right into your pussy” With that, I took to working her opening in a gentle circle with my dick, pressing against the tight ring of muscles that was so ready to yield and be filled, if I applied a little more pressure. "There's just one thing you need to say, sweetheart”

"Oh please, baby. Please. I'm wrong, Kook. You're right!”

I let my hips fall forward and my cock sank into her wetness all the way to the hilt. I groaned with satisfaction: that was all I needed to hear, but she kept going.

"Oh yes, fuck your wife. Please fuck me. I was wrong, baby. Just keep fucking me”

I reached forward and yanked the straps of her binding loose. Her right hand flew down between her legs and she started playing with her clit as I fucked her.

"It's okay, baby," I panted. "Everybody makes mistakes. Now, I'm going to give you a big reward for owning up to it”

"Yes, give me my reward. Cum in my pussy, baby”

My hips were out of control. I fucked her wet pussy as hard as I could, feeling my cockhead swell like it does when I get close. She worked her clit in time with my strokes and the knowledge that she was feeling so good sent me over the edge.

"Yes, sweetie, here comes your reward. All for being so good for me. I'm gonna cum for you, baby"

The warmth of orgasmic bliss spread from my cock throughout my body, then came into sharp focus as I snapped and launched my cum deep into her. My voice gave out, shifting into short grunts in time with my sharp thrusts.

My cock pulsed and throbbed, shooting jets of cum into her pussy while my hips kept working her over in a desperate, orgasmic fuck. Then, my head was too sensitive. I pushed hard, burying the last few shots as deep as I could, grunting with every spasm. My weight on her ass pushed her forward until with one last shudder, my cock slid out of her pussy.

I found myself looking for reality again as I sprawled on top of her, trying to keep my weight on her hips, not her back. The room span a bit. I suddenly realised that I had more work to do before returning to the real world.

"You're such a good girl," I cooed, praising her. "Such an obedient wife, to admit that your husband was right”

She moaned a response into her pillow. Her fingers were still busy on her clit.

"You deserve the best reward I can give you”

I sat up, then gently rolled her onto her back. She didn't take her fingers away from her clit until my lips had taken their place, wrapping solidly around the sensitive nub.

"Oh yes," she moaned.

I held her clit between my lips and teased it softly with the tip of my tongue, randomly darting all around it, looking for every possible nerve ending that needed attention.

As her passion deepened and her orgasm approached, I sensed that she needed more. I slid two fingers of my right hand deep into her pussy and fucked her gently, mixing our juices together and pushing my come deep into her body.

"Are you going to be a good girl for me?" I asked, going back to teasing mode and blowing cool air across her clitoris.

"Oh yes, I'm a good girl."

"Good. Now be a good girl and cum for me”

I attacked her with my lips again, fucking her hard with my fingers and applying pressure to the root of her clit. She lifted the backs of her legs off the bed as her body tensed up.

"Good girl," I mumbled into her clit, between licks, “cum for me baby”

And with that, she cried out and came. Her legs snapped tight around my head. I held her clit firmly between my lips and rode her, pushing my fingers deep into her cunt and relishing the steady throbbing of her orgasm. One, two, three, four times her strong muscles gripped me, then her hips fell to the mattress and she collapsed in satisfaction.

I gently pulled my fingers from her pussy and climbed up next to her, wrapping her in my arms. I had to squirm a bit to arrange things so that my still-dripping dick was pointed at our sheets, not her thigh, but then I was able to tug a blanket over our bodies as we settled down.

"You are the best wife in the world," I whispered in her ear.

"You're right," she sighed.

— 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘰 𝘹𝘰

𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

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maximotts · 1 year

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Free use cowgirl Wanda 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Going to the grocery store because Wanda’s been so busy lately only to find Wanda there and you’re like “omg hi Wanda 😊 But wait I thought I was doing the shopping this week?” and you check your phone to see if you’ve missed something. You haven’t. Wanda just couldn’t wait to bend you over 💞💞

My phone is doing the ios17 update and I'm just remembering I needed to finish answering this ask whoopsies

This got longer than expected (it's only like 600 words tho), but I simply cannot apologize for free use cowgirl Wanda content uhmmm cws for public sex and typical farm Wanda dirty talking, 18+ obvs

I don't think I've said it before, but Wanda does errands to shops in town to drop off farm goods every week because shopping local is good and cute! So there's a very high possibility you'd run into her at the grocery store and you're always so giddy when you see her, the shop owner thinks you two are just precious!

He doesn't even notice Wanda holding your hips so tight you're squeaking or how she's taunting you by pulling the ends of your pigtails! When you excuse yourself to finish the rest of your shopping, Wanda follows oh so innocently until the two of you are out of eyesight... and maybe she spots you stretching to reach the flour at the very back of the shelf, flowy dress riding up to show off your legs, how's Wanda supposed to do anything but pin you against the shelves?

"What right do you have to look this damn beautiful all by yourself back here?" And you can barely get a word in between Wanda's kisses, particularly when she takes your tongue and sucks, leaving your mouth an absolute mess.

At the sound of Wanda undoing her belt, you startle, trying and failing to wrench your thigh from where your girlfriend was shamelessly hitching it high around her hip. "Are you crazy? Someone's going to see us!"

"Now bunny, don't be like that," Wanda's totally unbothered by your struggles, knowing you'd settle as soon as she gets her hand up your panties— and she's exactly right. "I believe we have an arrangement, or did you forget?"

You couldn't possibly forget, your mind always racing with thoughts of how and when Wanda would decide to fuck you again. Sometimes you baited her into it, not wanting to wait, but being taken in the back of the town's only grocery store was an idea that'd never dared crossed your mind. Wanda's either until about five minutes prior.

"Good girl..." Wanda's smile is stunningly bright as she feels you relax against her, arms winding around her shoulders while she lines up her strap, opting not to prep you for the sake of time. "I'd guess we have about ten minutes before Steve finishes counting the jars I brought and writing me a check so behave and be quiet."

It's the shortest ten minutes of your life, the time flying by under Wanda's praises and the knee-buckling orgasm she gifts you. Your teeth desperately bite into the shoulder of Wanda's coat as she continues to fuck you, pumping your full of her cum until she's satisfied.

Pulling out was bittersweet, the brunette loving your impish whines but hating to have to leave. She did have to exercise some self-restraint, but that didn't mean she couldn't pick up where she left off later... "You'd better keep every last bit of my cum in that sweet pussy or I'll drag your ass right back here and we'll start all over again. Understand?"

"Uh huh..." It's terrible how quickly Wanda takes all your thoughts with such a quick fuck; you can tell how spaced out you sound, but you don't have anywhere near the coherence you need to mask it. You'd have to go straight back to the house after this, could only hope you remembered the rest of what you needed to get for dinner.

"I have a few more stops to make so I'll meet you back at home. Text me if you need anything, love you." Wanda sends you off with another kiss and a pat on the ass and before you know it, she's gone and you've never done your shopping more dreamily.

#I simplyyyy love her your honor #country bunny au.#wanda maximoff x reader #motts writes.#maximotts.

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bluecollarmcandtf · 6 months

Text

Total Customer Service

My hotel famously caters to the whims of each and every guest, so I thought I'd highlight the insights of some of my staff. My "unique" recruitment process has helped me acquire an army of hard-working uniforms who are guaranteed to serve! Hopefully, this glimpse will make you want to book a visit...

(Josh) The Bellhop

I love this job, but sometimes it kills my back! Who would've thought that being a porter would wear down my body more than hard labor ever did? Don't get me wrong: I'll gladly work here forever, but most of my days aren't a walk in the park. Honestly, none of them are.

When I was a construction worker, I got paid to be outside and occasionally hammer in a nail or two. My crew was pretty notorious for just standing around all day. We were doing that when my current boss approached us. I don't remember exactly what he said, but before I knew it, we were dropping our tool belts and hardhats and following him back to the hotel!

He hired me as a bellboy, so now I offer any guest the service of lugging their suitcases up to their rooms. Since I'm just staff, I obviously can't use the elevators, (those are reserved for the guests) so I carry their things up the service stairs in the back of the building. The temperature in the stairwell is always hot as hell, so I rarely end a shift without sweating through the pits of my uniform jacket. It sucks, but the AC is saved for spaces that make guests more comfortable.

Most of the customers are pleased to see me working so hard anyway. I'm usually panting by the time I deliver their luggage to their rooms. I'll always offer to unpack their things: it's a part of the hotel's five-star service.

Then I wait and see if they need anything else from me. A lot of times, I'm the first employee the guests are able to interact with, so they're usually pretty excited to take advantage of the "all-inclusive" service our hotel is famous for.

Some of them are shy about it at first and some of them are demanding from the get-go, but I'm always happy to do whatever they ask. Even if I don't particularly like what I have to do: it's just a part of the job...I love this job...I love my boss...I love that this work is my life...

(Bill) The Housekeeper

Part of me cringes every time I get a look of myself in a mirror. Sure, I'm proud to be a housekeeper, but it's a real change of pace from back when I was a financial advisor. Part of me is nervous to think I could run into someone from my old life: a former colleague or an old customer perhaps. I'd still clean their room the same of course, but I can't help but wonder what they'd think of me while I did it.

I used to manage the hotel owner's finances. That's how we met. He persuaded me to grow his hotel as much as I could. It became an obsession of mine, and I'll have to admit that I tossed all my other customers to the side to focus on him. It was a bit out of character for me. I'm not really sure why I did that. Anyway, I was spending so much time at his hotel instead of my office that he offered me a job.

I can't recall his pitch, but it must have been a convincing one, because I dialed up my old former boss and quit. I just didn't want it anymore! It didn't even bother me that the only vacant position was in housekeeping!

I took it immediately.

I love cleaning up the messes our guests leave behind. Thinking about that is what gets me out of bed everyday, which is no easy feat since my shift starts at four in the morning. No matter how messy, gross, or bizarrely sticky a room is, I just love to get on my hands and knees and scrub every inch for them.

The best part is when a guest comes back to their room to find me making their bed or cleaning their shower. I can tell they're always pleasantly surprised to find me there.

I just keep my head lowered submissively like I'm supposed to and wait for them to take charge. They always do. Here at the hotel, us employees are completely at the customer's whim. I'll do anything they tell me to...I want to make them happy...I want to serve them...I want to obey.

(Donavon) The Waiter

Who knew waiting could create such awful migraines. I work in the hotel bar, and every day is a new storm of hungry and entitled mouths. Each table has someone who isn't happy with their meal, and they love to express their discontent in the most ridiculous ways. Sometimes it's a glass of water in my face. Sometimes it's a slap on the ass, but it's always followed by a roar of laughter!

Usually, every guest in the restaurant joins in like it's all one sick joke.

I'm not used to being treated this way. I used co-own a nearby gym, and I always made it my mission to foster a welcoming culture of respect and familiarity. I know "the customer is always right," but sometimes it is a hard fact to swallow.

The hotel's owner helped me learn that. He approached me one night at the gym and pulled out this weird swinging medallion...

I don't remember much of what he said, but I knew I had to abandon my gym. I left my wife too. We were happy, but I couldn't work here and have other commitments.

That's how I got started waiting tables. I'd never done it before, but it's not hard when I'm constantly being told what to do. Between the customers and the boss, I spend the entire day running around fulfilling orders; table six wants more wine, table nine wants their food cut for them, table twelve wants a foot rub... you get the picture.

It's all pretty typical stuff for a restaurant, I think. The customers get full control over me and the rest of the wait staff. However, it does make serving food a little difficult at times. Last night, we had to work overtime because this one guy kept making full use of us waiters. A good chunk of my evening was spent under his table, so I had to sprint afterwards to catch up on everyone's food.

It might stress me out, but I try not to let it bother me. I'll put up with their abuse and treat them with the utmost respect like a good waiter should. I don't mind being groped and fondled by virtually every customer as I pass. Part of our service is complete access to the staff. They can do whatever they want to me...they can have me do whatever they want...they deserve that treatment...I'm meant to give them that treatment...

(Ricardo) The Kitchen Staff

This job sucks. It's the truth, but I don't think I'll ever leave. The kitchens are so steamy and uncomfortable that I constantly think about walking out and getting a breath of fresh air. Still, my hands keep scrubbing countertops and chopping vegetables.

Sometimes I think of my life before I worked at this hotel, back when I was just an aimless twenty year old hanging out at the gas station. I had so much free time then. Now, I spend every waking moment in this sauna of a kitchen getting splashed with grease and oil.

Everything changed when that stranger came up to me and my buds one day. He talked really slow and dangled this weird necklace in front of our eyes. If I didn't know any better, I might think he was trying to hypnotize us!

Obviously, that's not what happened.

He was just offering us work. He made me realize how much I needed to work. I have to do this job! I need it! All my buddies agreed too. Some of them had jobs, but they didn't mind. It's been awhile since I saw them since I'm stuck down here in the kitchen. I think one of them might be a pool boy or something? I don't remember. Whatever it is, I'm sure it's more enjoyable than washing dishes down here.

The only break we get is when a customer comes in the kitchen.

One of them burst through the doors last night. We could all tell he'd had too much to drink, but that didn't change how we treated him. Like always, me and the rest of the staff stopped what we were doing and straightened our backs out of respect. He stumbled around, licking his lips as he looked us up and down. He wasn't afraid of groping us, which any guest is more than entitled to do.

Eventually, he got to me, burping in my face before covering my mouth with his slobbery lips. I'm not gay and he had a rank odor of beer on his breath, but I wasn't going to tell a customer no!

Before long, he was ordering me on the floor and crawling on top of me. The other chefs and kitchen staff got back to work, but I was left with the responsibility of keeping the guest entertained. I'd describe it as gross more than anything. I think he might've even pissed himself, but an order is an order.

His demands were the ridiculous kind only a drunk ass would make. Still, I did everything: no matter how uncomfortable, sick, or degrading they were. That's just the expectation for employees at this hotel...we are here to serve them... I'm here to serve them...I am at their whim.

...so now you understand.

My hotel is famous for its "uniquely unlimited" customer service. Stay here and you'll always be right. You'll always have someone to pick on, laugh at, play with, or use.

Get familiar with anyone that catches your eye. I can assure you that all of my employees are handsome and thoroughly conditioned. Order the waiter to pour your food over his head; tell the housekeeper to do a little dance; command the bellhop turn around and bend over. They'll do it all, and they'll thank you for it.

So what are you waiting for. Book your next vacation with us! I promise you'll enjoy meeting the rest of my staff...

#gay hypnosis #humiliation kink #gay mind control #gay ai art #hypnotized #hypno story #servant #mind control #blue collar

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runnning-outof-time · 8 months

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Hi K, congratulations on 3.5K once again!!!! Saw you reblogging your celebration post, reminded I hadn't sent anything in yet due to a busy schedule. Anyway, I'd like to request a blurb for John with the prompt number 10. ''Look at me.''

You're awesome. And hope you have an amazing week this week :)

Thanks so much for sending this in, Merel @twvstedsouls !! I’m sorry it took me so long to write it! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration — find more stories here!

I Don’t Care What They Say

John Shelby x Reader

Warnings: none

Word Count: 736

Summary: John hears what he needs the most after learning about (Y/N)’s parents’ opposition of their engagement.

“Why the long face, darlin’?” John Shelby asked his fianceé a few seconds after she entered the room he’d been sitting in. He immediately nodded the downcast expression that she was wearing and wasted no time getting to the bottom of what was bothering her.

“I don’t want to talk about it, John,” she answered with a sigh as she took her coat off and hung it up by the door. “It’s nothing, really. There’s not much that can be done about it. It’ll pass over.”

“It’s not ‘nothing’ if it’s got you looking like that. So what’s wrong?” he gently prodded her for the answer.

(Y/N) finally looked in his direction, and she stood still for a few moments, thinking on whether she should share the conversation she’d just had. John had an expectant look on his face, one that told her she wasn’t getting out of this so easy. So with a sigh, she dropped her gaze to the floor. It’d be easier for her to get it out if she didn’t see his reaction.

“My parents don’t agree with our engagement.”

The breath got stuck in John’s throat. It felt like the world had stopped for a moment as her words sunk into his mind. His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to make sense of it. “What…what did they say?” he stumbled on his words, not sure if he wanted to hear more about it or not.

“They said that you’re no good for me. That I can find someone much better than you,” she answered, her heart breaking as she watched him process what she was saying. The words left such a bad taste in her mouth, and repeating them made her recount the long lecture her parents had given her about her choice.

John blinked a few times, trying to wrap his head around what her parents had said about their engagement. Thoughts started seeping in; ones telling him that he actually wasn’t good enough for her, and that she was going to heed to her parents advice. He dropped his eyes to the floor, swallowing thickly as he brought his hand up. He waved it around as he tried to think of what he wanted to say next. “And what do you say?…about our engagement,” he asked, squeezing his eyes shut for extra measure. He didn’t want to see her reaction.

If it wasn’t broken before, (Y/N)’s heart shattered at the sound of his voice as he forced his question out. She could tell that his mind was reeling; that he was fighting so hard to keep himself together. “Hey,” she called out, hoping to get his attention, but to no avail. “John. Look at me,” she continued, not wanting to say anything else without his eyes on hers. She wanted him to see how much she meant every word.

Slowly John lifted his eyes to meet hers again. He placed his hands on his knees, bracing himself for what would come next. It was in that moment that he wished he could be more like Tommy or Polly, so that he’d be able to read her expression and gain some clues from it.

After what felt like minutes of waiting, (Y/N) spoke again. “I don’t care what they say about our engagement. I’m marrying you, John Shelby,” she said, her words ringing out loud and clear. “They don’t have control over what I do. I’m old enough to make my own choices, and I choose you. I’m always going to choose you.”

“You are?” he just had to check, well aware that he sounded like a child in doing so.

“Yes,” she nodded, “I can’t wait to marry you. Nothing anyone says against it is going to change my mind.”

A breath of relief left John’s lips then, and all of the built up tension quickly resolved within seconds. “You have no idea how happy hearing you say that makes me, (Y/N),” he told her, shaking his head as a relieved smile formed on his face.

“You have no idea how happy you make me, John,” she countered, moving over to where he was sitting as a similar smile formed on her face. “Me and you…no one else matters.”

“No one else matters,” he repeated the ending of her statement, standing from his seat so that he could kiss her.

*tags in reblog so they hopefully get sent out

MASTERLIST

#john shelby #john shelby x reader #john shelby x y/n #john shelby x you #john shelby blurb #john shelby imagine #john shelby fanfic #john shelby fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders x you #peaky blinders blurb #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #k’s 3.5k celebration

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criminalamnesia · 6 months

Note

Okay okay, now hear me out.

Instead of reader not forgiving them...

They do something that makes the team feel even worse...

They *understand*.

*****

Imagine reader waking up in that hospital bed, squinting at the bright lights above and feeling the cables and tubes and oxygen mask, when they suddenly remember everything.

They squirm against the bed as they hear a deep and soft voice, "Calm down, kid. It's okay."

Price is next to the bed, sitting a distance away in a chair. He looks exhausted, thick circles under his eyes.

(Basically everything that was in the actual fic happens, except when Price begins to apologize, reader instead goes:)

"It's okay Price..." They whisper in a cracked voice.

The room is quiet as Price processes what you said.

They repeat, "It's okay..."

"It's not okay, love," Price says in a quiet demand. "We were wrong... You were framed like you said you were..." he leans back in his chair with a tired and sad sigh. "We didn't believe you and you suffered for it-"

"Captain," they interrupt gently, "I understand why what happened, happened." They drop their head slightly to the side, looking at Price sideways. "It was a tough situation, you couldn't take the risk to trust me. You're the Captain, you have to make tough calls, you have a team to protect. I understand."

Prices brow creases as he frowns deeply, "You were a part of that team. I was supposed to protect you too, why are you not angry-"

"I am angry." They say almost venomously. "You are not an easy man to trick, Price." they state in a slightly louder voice, hoping their voice doesn't fail them. "Neither is... neither is Simon. I know that whatever evidence you were given, was *good*. Believable."

They swallow thickly before continuing, "I *am* angry, but I understand that you needed to remove me from the team, I understand that you had to treat me with caution and suspicion. I'd have done the same..." Their eyes unwillingly starts brimming with tears as they still feel the ache of their injuries. "The torture? Captain, I-" their voice finally cracks and the tears spill.

Price moves to stand up, likely to comfort them, but at their wince at his movement he freezes. He slowly sits back down, clenching his jaw.

Price knows it's not that simple. They were a part of the team, but the boys all turned against them so easily, and instead of doing what they should have, and held them in isolation, let caution take over, they got angry instead. The men let their anger get the best of them to the point of torturing someone they trusted. And Price says this to them, but they shake their head.

"I know it's not that simple sir, I'm the one with the injuries. I know. But you believed it was the right thing to do. It's not fault. You were lied to, and you believed it." they take a breath to calm their tears.

Price looks down at his hands, "We don't deserve this sympathy, kid. You didn't deserve to be tortured for something you didn't do. But you were, we did."

"It's not about deserving, sir. No one deserves anything and I owe no one anything. I get that, but this is a tricky situation-"

"You shouldn't forgive us this easily." Price bites out as he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We don't deserve that."

"Then isn't it a good thing that's my choice to make and not yours?"

Price looks up to meet their eyes as they smile sadly at him.

"And don't call me naive, sir. I can understand that I'm being kinder than I should be. I have the right to be angrier, to scream and curse at you. This kindness isn't naivety. I know that I have the right to be cruel. But just because I *can* be more cruel, doesn't mean I have to be."

*************

(My brain isn't properly letting me write what I'm seeing in my mind, but yesterday I had a very cinematic daydream and the dialog is just not coming to me again, I'm for sure writing it whenever it comes to me again

It just makes me feel like that hurts Price and the team infinitely more, knowing that despite the awful pain the men made reader feel, they're being kind.

The men tortured reader for things they didn't do, refused to give understanding. And here reader is, giving understanding for awful things that *were* done to them

Imagine the psychological impact that'll have on the team, especially Simon, who in this daydream of mine is eavesdropping from just outside the room, because he's too afraid to look you in the eyes.)

oooooo your mind!! it’s so powerful. I could definitely see this as an au scenario in the traitor fic universe!

(also this is what simon wants lol. not necessarily forgiveness, but understanding. understanding that they did what they had to do, what they thought was right (even if it wasn’t)).

#criminalamnesiaasks

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thornsnvultures · 3 months

Text

mechanic!Eddie blurb based on this post and @urhoneycombwitch 's reply

700+ words, nsft 18+

"Eddie, you can't keep doing all this for me for free, these parts are expensive!"

The numbers on his expense sheet were way too big for your comfort. You weren't used to someone...investing this much into you without asking for something in return.

"Well I'm not sending you to some asshole who's gonna charge you double either." Eddie swiped the paper from your hands and slid it back into the binder on the office desk. "The shop's doing well and you need a safe car to drive in. I'm not letting you run around in a death trap."

"It's not a death trap!"

Eddie gave you a look that said you both knew otherwise.

"Okay, fine. But you've gotta let me do something to make it up to you. Take you to dinner at Carlucci's? They have those wings you like," you teased Eddie with a smile, watching his cheeks redden under the sweat and grime of the day.

"You don't need to wine and dine me, sweetheart," Eddie said as he circled the desk. He took you in his arms, pulling you close to stand between his spread legs as he leaned on the creaky old wood. "I'd do anything for you, you know that."

"But sometimes I want to do stuff for you, y'know? Can't just be you that does all the taking care of." You inched in closer, close enough to him now that you could smell his cologne under the grease. It made your stomach flip and your fingers itch to grab him. So you did. You let your fingers dive into his unzipped jumpsuit, tickling at his trim waist over his undershirt. So warm and inviting now that the cool ac in the office was blasting at your spine.

"You don't have to, that's not why I...I just like knowing you're safe," Eddie said as your hands traveled up to his shoulders pushing his jumpsuit off them and down his arms. His breathing picked up as he watched your fingers skim over his biceps, the veins in his forearms.

"I am safe. You make me feel safe, Eddie."

You kissed him then, quieting the gasp and groan that fell from his lips when your hand found the bulge at the junction of his thighs. His hips stuttered and he whined when you pulled him free.

"You don't have to-"

"I know," you said as you kissed Eddie's jaw, stroked the slick, heated flesh in your hand. "It's not about the car. It's about you. Only you."

You gripped him tighter, kissed him harder. It really wasn't about the car or paying him back or any of it. He needed to know how much you cared. How much you loved him for caring.

"Fuck, fuck, ah!" Eddie shouted against your mouth, his breath coming in hard hot pants that matched yours.

"That feel good? You look so pretty when you come, Eddie. Can I see it? Come for me, Eddie. Show me how pretty you are."

The wet workings of your hand echoed in the small room and you watched as Eddie's spread thighs shook and his balls tightened. You gave them a little tug, rolling them in your fingers and Eddie shouted. He grabbed the back of your head and kissed you hard as come splattered all over his stomach and dripped down your fingers. You worked him through it until he was shuddering for you to stop.

Eddie reached for the box of tissues behind him only to turn back and see you licking your fingers clean.

"Good?"

"I should be asking you that," you laughed. "But yes, so good."

Eddie hummed and took your fingers out of your mouth, replacing them with his tongue.

"Mm, you're right. I'm delicious."

You laughed and smacked his arm as he cleaned up and tucked himself away.

"Y'know, I think I changed my mind," Eddie said and turned you around so you were facing the desk. His hands slid around to the front of your jeans and you gasped when he popped the button open. Pushing your front down to the table, Eddie dropped to his knees, taking your jeans and underwear with him.

"I think I will let you treat me to dinner."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x plus size!reader #mechanic!eddie munson #nsft #smut #my fics

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mustainegf · 5 months

Note

JAMES HETFIELD STUDENT TEACHER SMUT PLEASEE 🙏🙏🙏

How’d you know I already had this written?? 🤭

Music theory was my favorite college class. You could say it was for my passion for music, or my love for craft. Or maybe it was my strikingly handsome professor.

I was always in the front row, and he was always standing behind his desk. He had a way of talking that made me feel like I was the only one in the room.

Professor Hetfield. He was 40, with a handsome face and a muscular body. I preferred to say his name though, James. He was a handsome man.

The class had been going on for two months now, and I'd only ever heard him speak about the subject. I didn't know anything about his personal life, or what he did outside of school.

After class, I'd sit and wait for him to finish his work. He was always busy grading papers or prepping for the next class. When he finished, he'd walk over to me and we'd talk about what we had just learned.

"I'm glad you're enjoying the class. You have a lot of potential." He said one day after class. "Thanks, Professor,"I replied. "Call me James outside of school." He said with a smile. "Okay, James." I said with a smile. Before I could leave, he asked me to stay behind. "Hun, can I talk to you for a minute?" He asked. "Sure." I replied.

He walked over and sat down next to me on the desk in front of his papers. "I've noticed you sitting in the front row every day. You seem to be very interested in the subject." He said. "I am, it's my favorite class." I replied.

"I'm glad to hear that. I have a proposition for you." He said. "What is it?" I asked. "I want to give you private lessons, just the two of us." He said with a smile. "Oh?" l asked."Yes, I’d like to teach you some things that I can't teach in class." He said.

"What kind of things?" I asked. "Things that will help you understand the subject better." He said with a smile. "I'd love to." I said.

"Great, we can start tomorrow after class." He said with a smile. Professor Hetfield walked in and stood behind his desk. "We could start now" I said softly. "What?" He asked. "I said we could start now." I said with a smile. "Someone's impatient." He said with a grin.

"Professor? Is it really grading papers what you want me to do?" I slipped my gaze down his figure. James nonchalantly adjusted his jeans. He sat down in his seat, leaning back with an exhale. His gaze was fixated on me.

He dropped the playful banter as he came to realize I understood what he was getting at. "Come here." He commanded, his tone changing.

Nervously, I swallowed, walking around his desk to stand in front of him in his seat. James watched me contently. "On your knees, now." He said, his voice low and soft.

I knelt down in front of him, my eyes glued to his crotch. I could see the outline of his cock through his jeans. “Don’t be scared, I know what you wanna do,” James teased, tucking some of my hair behind my ear.

I reached out and ran my hand over the bulge, my breath hitching. "Take it out." He said, his voice husky. I nervously unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, revealing a pair of boxer briefs that were straining to contain his hard cock.

I giggled softly, which seemed to get him off. I hooked my fingers into the waistband and pulled them down, freeing his cock. It was big, about 8 inches long and thick.

I wrapped my hand around it and started stroking it slowly. "That's it." He said, his voice low and husky. I looked up at him, my eyes meeting his.

Something about his lust filled eyes drove me crazy, and I could feel my clit pulse.

"Use your mouth sweetheart." He said with a smirk. I opened my mouth and took his cock in, running my tongue over the head.

"Oh fuck." He moaned, his hand coming to rest on the back of my head. I started bobbing my head up and down, taking more of him into my mouth. "That's it, suck that cock." He said, his voice low and husky.

I moaned around his cock as I continued to suck him off.

"I never knew you were such a dirty girl." He said, his hand tightening in my hair. I moaned again, taking more of his cock into my mouth.

James impatiently forced my face down as far as it could go. I choked for a moment, catching my breath. "Good job..." He groaned, allowing me to sit my head back up to regain myself.

I took a breath, letting the saliva drip from my mouth onto his tip. He let out a sigh as I bobbed him in my mouth again.

"You're going to make me cum." He said, his voice low and husky. I moaned around his cock, sucking him harder.

"Fuck... I'm cumming!" He groaned, his hand tightening in my hair as he came down my throat. I swallowed his load, savoring the taste.

"Fuck..." He said, his hand releasing my hair. I sat back on my heels, looking up at him with a smile. "You're a good girl." He said with a smirk.

"Thank you, professor." I said with a smile. "Don't thank me yet." He said with a smirk. He stood up and walked around his desk, grabbing my hips and pulling me over it. "Up against the desk." He said, his voice determined. I did as he said, my hands resting on the desk. He pulled my skirt up over my ass and pulled down my panties.

"You can do better than that, pretty." He said with a smirk, pushing my face down onto his desk. I felt his hands on my ass, spreading my cheeks. "Fuck... you're so wet." He said with a smirk.

"What a bad Girl. Sex with your professor? Such a dirty girl aren't you?" He said with a smirk. "Yes, professor." I said with a moan.

I felt his cock against my entrance. James grabbed my waist with his free hand, pushing into me with a shove. "Fuck! Professor!" I moaned, my body shuddering. He showed me no mercy as his thrusts were already quick. His hand on my back to keep me down.

"Fuck... you're so tight." He said with a groan. I clenched my eyes shut, my face smushed against the desk as he used me as he pleased.

My g spot was pretty much being abused. "You like that sweetheart?" James grunted. "Yes, professor." I moaned. He squeezed my ass hard.

"Fuck... you're so good for me." He said with a groan. Without warning, the feeling left as James pulled out. "Turn around." He growled. I sat up, turning to look at him.

James swiftly lifted me up, plopping me down on top of his desk. I laid back on the paper littered desk. He pushed me down so that my ass was on the edge of his desk.

"Open your legs." He said with a smirk. I did as he said, spreading my legs wide for him. James hastily grabbed me, pushing back inside of me.

I let out a loud pornographic moan, my head falling back. Once I had collected myself, I tightly wrapped my legs around his waist. I couldn't believe what was happening.

I watched him clench his eyes shut as my own professor roughly took me.

"Ahh, fuck…” I whispered, hearing stray papers and assignments falling to the floor. I felt his hands on my hips, pulling me towards him as he thrust into me.

"Fuck... you're so tight." He groaned, his voice low and husky.

I moaned, feeling my orgasm building up inside of me. "Oh, oh…" I moaned, my eyes rolling back. "Cum for me." He said with a smirk.

"Fuck... professor..." I moaned, my body shuddering as I came all over his cock. He let out a growl as he continued to fuck me through my orgasm.

"You can take it, I'm not ready to stop yet" He groaned, shaking his head to get the long hair out of his eyes. "You look so good when you cum" James choked out. "James please it's too much!" I begged, the overstimulation was shaking me to my core.

"You want me to cum? don't you?" He asked coldly. "Yes…" I pleaded. "Then you’ll wait..." He said with a smirk. He continued to use me, it was beginning to hurt a bit, but it felt so good. I couldn't say no to him, I wanted to see him get off.

James pulled out in seconds, grabbing my arms and pulling me hastily off of the desk. "On your knees, now, quick." He demanded. I dropped to my knees, my eyes locked on his cock.

"Open your mouth." He said with a smirk. I did as he said, opening my mouth wide for him. "You're such a good girl." He said with a smirk, his hand wrapping around the back of my head. I watched as he jerked himself off, aiming for my mouth.

"Open wider." He said with a smirk. I did as he said, opening my mouth wide for him. I felt his cock against my tongue, then the warm salty taste of his cum.

"Swallow it." He said with a smirk. I did as he asked, swallowing down every drop of his seed for the second time.

"Fuck... you're so good for me." He said with a smirk, "You can't tell anyone about this." He uttered, brushing his thumb past my cheek as he intently looked down on me.

"I won't." I said with a smile. "Good girl." He said, reaching down and giving my ass a squeeze before he walked away from me towards his desk to grab some tissues for himself.

"Why don't you come to my place? I think I might have some more work for you to do." James eyed me sharply.

I couldn't believe what he was saying. "I don't know..." I said, biting my lip. "Why not?" He asked with a smirk. "Well... I don't want to get in trouble." I said with a shrug.

"Oh, you won't." He said with a smirk, "I'll make sure of it." I nodded, biting my lip. "Okay…" I said with a smile. Leaving hun with a soft kiss.

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captainsophiestark · 4 months

Text

Weekend Plans

Jason Todd x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: DC

Summary: Jason's SO finds out that he's the Red Hood in some sub-optimal circumstances.

Word Count: 1,639

Category: Fluff, Humor, Angst

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed as I turned out the bathroom light and headed for bed. Today had been a long day, and I couldn't wait to get some sleep.

Normally, after particularly tiring days (which happened more often than I'd like as an ER doctor), I'd text my boyfriend or vice versa and he'd come over with our favorite foods, the two of us leaning against each other on the couch and watching our favorite shows until we eventually passed out. Unfortunately, he had to work tonight. We'd made plans to make up for it this weekend instead, but tonight I was on my own.

I climbed under the covers and turned out my light, and I was almost all the way asleep when the sound of my window opening dragged me back awake. That window was always locked—maybe I was hearing things?

Thump. A heavy sound like someone hitting the floor came from right next to my bed. No way I'd imagined that.

Slowly, I eased open my eyes, too scared to move an inch. It was hard to make things out as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, until my heart almost stopped dead in my chest.

The Red Hood was laying on my carpet, flat on the floor, his feet still caught on the windowsill he'd just crawled over.

My mind raced. What the hell was he doing here? And what the hell was I supposed to do about it? Most of what I'd heard about the Red Hood painted him as the protector of the most vulnerable people in the worst parts of Gotham—but then why had he just broken into my apartment?

My racing train of thought was derailed as the vigilante groaned and shifted on the carpet. He rolled over until he was facing me, the eyes of his helmet providing the only source of light in the room. I froze, stiff as a board, my heart threatening to beat all the way out of my chest. What was he going to do?

Slowly, two gloved hands reached up towards his helmet. He must've pushed a buton, because I heard a hiss and a click before he moved to take his helmet off.

"Wait-" I said, starting to sit up in bed at last. I had no idea what was happening, but the Red Hood revealing his identity to me didn't seem like a good omen for anything. The vigilante ignored me though, and a moment later I froze all over again, sitting on the edge of my bed as I took in his face.

Jason Todd. My boyfriend, the man I'd finally worked up the courage to say "I love you" to a few weeks ago. Laying on my floor after breaking in through my window as Red Hood.

"Y/N..." He groaned my name, and all the shock was putshed out by immediate concern for whatever had him laying on the floor of my room like this. I stood, pulling his legs the rest of the way thorugh the window and shutting it, then dropped to my knees on the floor next to him.

"Jason..." I breathed. "What happened?"

"I... got shot. I didn't have anywhere else to go, I couldn't think of anywhere else I could make it to..."

My eyes scanned his body again, this time with a little less shock clouding my vision. He had a wound in his side, the one against the ground, and it was currently leaking blood onto my rug. I swore.

"Jason, is anybody following you? The person who shot you, or anyone with them?"

Jason groaned and shook his head.

"I made sure they weren't. I couldn't risk leading them back to you."

"Okay. Just stay right here, I'll be right back."

I jumped up and hustled into the hall to grab my first kit. I tried to focus on taking deep breaths as I flipped the lights on and returned to Jason, dropping to my knees next to him.

"Okay, Jay, I'm gonna roll you over, alright?"

"Yeah," he managed to grind out.

Working together, it didn't take long to get Jason on his back. I quickly pulled up his shirt to get a look at the wound, and about half the tension eased out of my shoulders. The entry and exit wounds were clean, and it didn't look like it had hit anything serious, although the blood loss from exerting himself running all over the city before he got to me certainly wasn't good.

"Alright, this isn't as bad as I worried it might be. As long as you get some rest, you should heal up fine. Do you think you can make it to the bathroom if I help? It'll be easier to get you cleaned up in there."

Jason nodded, taking a couple deep breaths as he did.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I can."

"Okay. Nice and easy, let's go."

Jason was so tall and so heavy, but between his sheer grit and the last of my adrenaline, we managed to get into the bathroom together. I eased him down on the edge of the tub, then paused before pulling back.

"Do you think you can keep yourself upright here? Or do we need to get you laying down?"

Jason took a few deep breaths in and out, his hands clutching the edge of the tub. Then, he finally looked up at me.

"I'm good."

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Really? Because this is not the time for bullshit macho nonsense-"

"Sweetheart, I promise. I'm good. Or at least I will be, as long as you get me stitched up."

I sighed. "So I take it that means you're not gonna let me call 9-1-1 and get you to a hospital?"

"No. I get anywhere near one, and I'll either be arrested or dead before I'm all the way healed."

"Great. Then I guess we're doing this."

I took a deep breath and tried to steel myself for the procedure about to come. All of this was just about the last thing I wanted to deal with after the day I'd had. Jason hurt, relying on me to help him, and apparently the man behind the masked vigilante Red Hood. But I could deal with all of that later. After Jason was stable.

I left my apartment and emotions behind as I got into the zone dealing with Jason. He was tough as nails all through the process, although this actually probably wasn't his first gun shot. Finally, I finished and the bleeding stopped. I sat back against my bathroom cabinet with a heavy sigh and just looked at Jason.

"What... the actual... fuck?" I breathed. All the things I'd shoved aside to cope with the crisis were officially rushing back in. Jason huffed a laugh and shook his head, then slowly eased himself off the edge of the tub. I narrowed my eyes at him. "If you pop one of your stitches, I swear-"

"I won't, I'm not going far."

He settled in on the floor next to me, shoulder to shoulder, then sighed.

"I'm sorry about this. For just showing up, and... for how you just found everything out."

I sighed. "Jay, you know I've never minded you just showing up. But... were you ever going to tell me? Like, if you didn't have to tell me because you got shot... would I ever have found out that you're secretly the Red Hood?"

"Of course I was going to tell you," Jason said, his voice a low rumble. "I love you, I'd never keep something like that from you forever. I was just... trying to figure out how to do it. I mean seriously, how the hell was I supposed to start that conversation?"

A tired smile made its way onto my face, and I leaned a bit into Jason.

"How about 'knock knock, who's there? Me, the Red Hood. That's right, I've got something to tell you'."

Jason snorted, his hand immediately flying to the wound in his side as he fought back a laugh. I just grinned.

"Yeah, it's a really good thing you're not the one with the secret identity to disclose."

"Mmm, I don't know, I think there's something to my approach. Or how about 'what has two thumbs and-'"

"Okay, you have to stop. I'm gonna pop a stitch if you keep going."

"Well, lucky for you, you're dating a doctor."

"Lucky for me I'm dating you. Seriously, I half expected you to scream and run out of the room when you saw me."

"After the day I had at the hospital? I wouldn't have the energy for that kind of panic, honestly."

Jason huffed a laugh and wrapped one arm aorund my shoulders.

"Sorry for adding to the length of that day."

"It's okay, Jay." I sighed and turned to face him, just managing enough energy to smile. "I'm always happy to see you, and even though this obviously wasn't the ideal way for me to find out... I'm glad I know about this part of your life now."

"Me too."

I met his gorgeous blue eyes, the ones the mask had hidden from me at first, and smiled. Jason's expression mirrored my own, and a moment later, he was leaning forward, closing the gap between us with a glance at my lilps. I helped him close the rest of the distance, his soft lips gently finding mine. We stayed like that for a few seconds, until I finally pulled back.

"We should go to bed, Jay."

Jason grinned at me. "Happily, sweetheart."

"Not like that," I said, rolling my eyes and giving him a light smack in the arm. "Not while you're recovering from a bullet wound."

Jason sighed dramatically, and I couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Fine. Help me get to bed then?"

"Of course. And tomorrow, after we've slept in past noon, I'll make us some breakfast and you can answer my million questions about all this Red Hood shit."

"And then I can help you clean the blood off your bedroom floor."

"Sounds like the perfect weekend plan."

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989

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indecenthoney · 3 months

Text

Pull the Plug

I'm the type of person to invite people out to hang. If you're on my mind then I'll surely send an invite. I mean more the merrier, right? Which in most cases would be true, unless you've recently made a friend like me.

"Yo? Whose this? Oh! Hey, what's up? Mmm, nothing much... I've just been working and going to the gym these past few days... Oh for sure, I'd love to hang out! Did you have anything planned? No... then what do you want to do? Dude... No way... Fuck no... If you're just going to call me up to hang out with my friends then don't bother calling me... You know why the hell I'm not setting that up... I know damn well you're going to spend the entire time flirting with all of them... Haha... You're funny... You? Behave? Why am I overreacting? It's because the last time we hung out, you saw a cute guy and bailed on me... You putting the pieces together or am I talking too fast?"

I try to see the good in people. I really do. And genuinely, without the horny part, she really was sweet and caring. Just a bit horny. Okay. A lot bit horny. It would spell danger if I were to set up a hang-out with my friends including her. I can't just have her feral in the middle of a hang-out session. What kind of host would I be? Even then I'm a bit of a pushover if someone ends up begging me.

"Fine... fine fine fine... Fuck! We can ALL hang out, but if you even THINK about acting up. I will cancel it. You understand? No flirting. No sex talk. No getting their numbers. Is that understood? I said... Is that understood? Good... I will see you on the weekend..."

I called up all my guy friends inviting them over to my house to catch up. We've all been pretty busy these days. I was really looking forward to this, I miss those guys. Then in the back of my mind, I remember the little wildcard I invited on Saturday. This was going to be a complete shit show. I really got to stay positive. Who knows? Maybe, they'll hit it off and we can enjoy each other's company properly.

"Hey! Holy shit... It's been forever... I missed you guys... Go on ahead and drop off the stuff on the table... Make yourselves comfortable! I'm just waiting on one more... Yeah yeah she's... uhm... excited to meet you guys! The others? Naw the girls had to be bail tonight... She's the only one..."

How fucking convenient? I was hoping to ease the mood by inviting my female friends, but they got busy. It's just her now. I received a text message mentioning how she was on her way up. I hope her fucking brain can take it. I'm on my knees. Please act normal. A few knocks hit my door. Speak of the devil, there she was on the other side of the door. I can't be quick to judge. Maybe she really was going to behave. I open my door and quickly slam it in her face. She wore this crop top that barely covered her tits and this skimpy little skirt. Your mind would run wild trying to figure out if she was actually wearing or not.

"What? Do you really think I'm going to let you in here looking like that? What do you mean you're fine? You look like you're asking to get dicked down... Fuck... Can you shut up? God... Fine... fine fine fine... I'll let you in... but I want you to march straight to my room and find something decent to wear... I'm sure there's a sweater lying around somewhere... Okay? Good... Straight to room..."

Okay. I can't have her throwing a fit in front of my door. What would my neighbors think? I watched her walk into my house. Closely. She completely disregarded what I said and started heading toward where my friends were hanging. It's very difficult to piss me off, but god did that piss me off. I quickly looped my hand around her hair to gently pull her. I even made sure to cover her mouth as I dragged her quietly into my room. Throwing her onto my bed before calling out to my friends to continue without me for a few minutes.

"Guys? I'm just going to take a few minutes to fix something real quick... Yeah? Yeah, don't worry about it! I'll join you guys in a bit! You guys have fun... And you! Didn't you hear what I fucking said? Straight... to... my... room... Are you fucking dumb? Are you that fucking cock hungry that you can't listen to simple fucking instructions? Huh? Oh? Does it hurt? Aw, you're crying? I don't care if it hurts... Stupid little sluts that can't listen deserve to be hurt..."

I threw her around like it was nothing. Positioned her in a way that made her head hang over the bed. And to my surprise, she really was wearing something under that short-ass skirt. I didn't know what pissed me off more, the fact that she wore panties or the fact that wearing panties was her form of being behaved. I quickly unbuckled my pants dropping my underwear revealing my already hard cock. Placing it near her face watching her lips quiver at the sudden presentation of my cock.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm giving you what you want? Here c'mon you're favorite cock... Don't be shy... You're drooling over it already... Are you really hesitating right now? This is what you wanted, right? Don't tell me you were all bark and no bite... C'mon, princess... I'm asking you to do the one thing you do best... Have a taste... Now that's a good girl... Kiss it... Mhm... Worship it... That's it... Open your mouth wide for me, yeah?"

What little resistance she had quickly faded as my cock entered her mouth. It was funny really. Seeing a bulge as I fucked her throat; it's as if the choker around her neck could've snapped off at any moment. Where are my manners? I can't be the only one having fun, right? I took my cock out to give her a little breather before jamming right back in. I reached over pulling up her skirt; pushing her panties to the side. Rubbing her clit silly as her mouth warmed my cock. The little slut was already so wet.

"God, you're such a slut... Aw, what's wrong? You want me to stop? Does it hurt? When you're this wet? Oh? What was that? Can't breathe? You shouldn't talk when you're mouth is full, you know? Keep your legs open... or I'll suffocate you... Good girl... So you can listen to instructions... That's it... Just a little longer... and I'll let you breathe, alright? That's it... cum... make a mess... It's okay, sweetie... You can be as loud as you want in here... I made sure to soundproof my room just for this occasion... Such a good girl..."

As she groaned and convulsed at such a heavy orgasm, I decided to pull my cock out to let her breathe. I wanted to hear her moans. But the little slut didn't even take a moment to breathe but instead continued to kiss my cock as a thank you. I was free to do whatever I wanted to her. It's not like my friends could hear her anyway. Turned her around facing her cunt towards me. I gently rubbed her clit and stared her down while on top.

"Now... What does my good girl want? Use your words... My cock? Yeah? What about it? You want me to fuck you? Shove my cock into your needy little pussy? Mhm ya? Okay, sweetie... Stay still for me..."

Tapped my cock on her needy clit. Having her eagerly wait for my cock to enter her, but to her surprise I took a different approach.

"Shhh...Shhh... It's okay, sweetie... I know it hurts... I mean you didn't really expect to get your assed fucked today, huh? But nonetheless, you did a good job sucking me off... It's all nice and wet cause of you... If you didn't... I wouldn't have any choice but to fuck you raw... You're taking it so well, sweetie... And that's just the tip... Mhm... We have a long... long way to go... and when we're all nice and comfy... I'll fuck your ass and fill you to the brim, okay? All that whimpering... Just shut the fuck up and take it, yeah?"

I slowly placed her down into my lap; taking our time as she got used to my cock penetrating her ass. Making sure to pick up her legs as she slides down my shaft. It's a good thing she was already wet. I can feel her cunt dripping onto my cock easing the process. I've never seen her so quiet before apart from the whimpering, but at least she isn't talking anymore. She was behaving. Maybe all she needed was to be put in her place. I could hear faint whispers from her. And I lost it. She called me daddy. You don't understand what that does to a man. I threw her down; pressing her head into the mattress. I was going to make sure that her ass remembers the shape of my cock. I'll make her into my perfect little fuck doll she always dreamt to be. Why be nice when she wants this?

"What was that? You're slurring your words, sweetheart... Be gentle? We're way past being gentle, sweetie... You're mine now... I can do whatever the fuck I want with you... This ass... This pretty little pussy... All mine... Maybe when I'm all done... I'll have my friends take a turn, huh? Would you like that, sweetie? Won't you look at that... Squeezing down on me... Did you like that sound of that? Should I let them in here and see what a fucking disgusting slut you are for me? Have them watch as cum slowly drips out of ur slutty little holes..."

Honestly, I only ever said those words to turn her on even more, but I would never dream of sharing. I'm possessive. What's mine is mine. And I was about to leave a whole lot of proof that she was, deep inside of her. I slammed my cock deep inside of her only caring for my own pleasure. As I came deep inside, I hugged from behind forcing her down onto my cock. She was a leaky little mess. Unfortunately, she didn't cum yet, but I had other plans. Don't you worry.

"Yes yes... You did a good job, sweetheart... Why don't we head outside? Ah no buts... I'll give you, you're reward later, okay? After we're done hanging out with everyone... I promise I'll let you cum... Understood? Can you behave until then? Good girl... Let's get you plugged up, princess... We wouldn't want you leaking in front of our guests..."

She arched her back into the sky; waiting patiently for me. I rummaged through all my little toys and pulled out a butt plug for her to use. I glided it gently through her pussy, getting it as wet as possible before pressing it into her ass. It was honestly a pretty sight. I never thought I'd get to use this toy. After appreciating the sight for a little while longer, I quickly grabbed her a sweater to use. Cleaning her up the best I can, before pulling her along with me to greet my friends.

"Hey! Yeah sorry I had to go through some of the things in my closet to grab the board games... The noise? Oh! It dropped while I was pulling it out and she screamed. It's okay though! Wasn't that big of a mess! Before I forget... This is my new friend... Do you want to introduce yourself?"

The look on her face was priceless. She was completely red and couldn't even look them in the eye. I went ahead and introduced them to her; further instructing her to take a seat on the far side of my couch. She was free to stay quiet and squirm for the duration of the party. Even when they tried to talk to her, all she could do was look down and talk in such a small voice. She wanted her reward more than anything, so she behaved. When it was finally time for my friends to leave, tears started streaming down her face as she rubbed herself stupidly on my couch waiting for me to see my friends out. She fingered herself but didn't dare to bring herself to climax.

"Oh? Don't let me stop you, sweetheart... Good girls deserve to cum... What's with that look? You look like you've seen a ghost... Were you waiting for something? Oh? How could I forget about your reward? Silly me... Let's get this hangout started, shall we? It's going to be a long... long night for us after all..."

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

Bites you,

Honey

#cnc k!nk #corruption kink #bd/sm community #bd/sm blog #degrading k1nk #cnc free use #humiliation kink #cnc brat #edging and denial #nsft story #nsft concept #rough cnc #risquéhoney

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leiawritesstories · 2 months

Text

swords and sea breezes, 2

a continuation of swords and sea breezes, owed in large part to @renxzs for encouraging the whole mess <3

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none....i think...

enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aelin blinked in surprised confusion and crossed her arms across her chest. "I have absolutely no idea what on earth you're talking about."

The pirate--Rowan--dropped down into the leather-covered armchair beside the desk, lazily propped one booted foot on the opposite knee, and raised his eyebrows. "It'll go better for you if you tell me the truth, my lady."

"Since you're apparently deaf," she retorted, "I'll have to repeat myself. I don't know what the hell you mean, 'that island my fiancé is hiding.' Besides, His Highness and I are not particularly well acquainted. You'd likely have better luck tracking down this mythical fantasy island of yours if you captured someone who actually knows him."

"There's the woman who tried to jump out a porthole." A delighted grin broke across Rowan's face. "Well then, I should inform you that my men and I have already had some friendly little chats with Prince Dorian's soldiers."

"Why do I doubt there was anything friendly about those chats?" Aelin's question was dry enough to suck water out of the ocean.

Rowan shrugged, the pirate incarnate. "The soldiers are still alive, and I'd call that friendly enough." He leaned forward and propped his chin on his fists. "Only one of them knew something useful--there is an island, and the Havilliards are hiding it, and you, my lady, either know about it and are choosing to make this difficult or you are truly unaware that it exists, in which case I'll simply exchange the prince one beautiful, unharmed bride for the location of his little paradise."

The casual, conversational nature of the pirate's voice chilled her to her core. "Why are you so adamant that you get to this supposed island, pirate? Don't you have enough wealth already?"

"I've given you my name, my lady," Rowan smirked. "The least you can do is use it." He paused, his gaze turning sharp and calculating. "The island isn't about wealth or riches, though I wouldn't be opposed to a few more crates of gold. It's about what the place hides, my lady."

"Aelin," she said. "Don't pretend you have any manners, Rowan."

"I think you'll find me and my crew a good deal more well-mannered than any of your parents' fancy court, Aelin," he returned.

That barb lodged itself into a sensitive little corner of her heart, but she refused to let it show on her face. "That remains to be seen."

"As does your knowledge of the island." He grinned at her scoff of frustration. "You're quite good at misdirection, Aelin, but I've been in this game for far longer than you have."

"And you still seem unable to comprehend my words at their face value. I. Don't. Know. I don't know anything about this fairy story you've made up, nor do I know why out of all the ships on this ocean, you chose to attack mine." Sparks kindled behind her eyes, the heat of her frayed temper creeping up her throat, but she tamped down on that anger, forced it back into its locked iron box.

Rowan stood up, and she silently cursed her eyes for tracking the lazy, predatory grace of his movements. "Then I suppose we're done with this conversation for now. Enjoy your time on the Queen's Cadre, my lady. The ship is open to you." He strolled out, leaving the door flung wide.

"Damned pirates," Aelin grumbled. She swung her stiff legs out of the bed, grateful that whoever had dumped her there had left her in her skirt and blouse but removed her boots, which had been carefully placed on a low shelf next to the bed. There was a cabinet built into the wall beside the shelf, and to her surprise, its shelves contained clean, crisply folded ladies' clothes.

She hadn't had a full minute to wonder about the presence of that kind of clothing on a pirate ship before a sudden, cheerful voice made her jerk around with a gasp. "You're awake!"

Aelin pressed her hands to her throat as if she could push her heart back down from where it had leapt. "I...yes?"

"Well, that's reassuring." The dark-haired woman in Aelin's room closed the door behind herself and sized Aelin up. "Whitethorn is in an unusually good mood today, so thank you for that."

"I sincerely hope I had nothing to do with that," Aelin said dryly. "Who are you, and what the hell kind of ship is this?"

The petite woman threw back her head and laughed. "Oh, I like you!" She tossed her thick braid over one shoulder and extended her hand. "Elide Lochan, best sharpshooter on the Cadre and proud wife to the biggest grouch on board. I'm sure you already know we're pirates."

"Hmmm, yes. The cannons and the massive black flag did give me a hint," Aelin drawled. "Please don't tell me I kicked you out of your room, Elide."

"Oh, not at all!" Elide gestured to the cabinet of clothing. "I've picked up quite the collection of clothes over the years, but many of them aren't tailored for women of my height. You're welcome to anything you want, but I recommend trousers." She winked. "They're easier to get around in, and easier to hide a knife in."

"My kind of clothes," Aelin joked. "Thank you."

Elide grinned. "Anything for a noble lady of the Galathynius house."

Aelin groaned. "Could we not bring my entire lineage into this? It seems that everyone here knows of me." She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a soft cotton blouse and a pair of dark brown pants, running her fingers over the material.

"Well, you are quite recognizable." Elide touched Aelin's ruined braid, the messy waves that tumbled down her back. "Here, though, nobility and rankings don't matter--well, unless you're my husband or the captain, because the two of them are always having an authority pissing contest."

Aelin snickered. "From what I know of Rowan after one conversation, that sounds exactly like him."

"Absolutely insufferable." Elide turned around so Aelin could change, and she went over to the desk and came back with a hairbrush. "Here."

"Thank you." Aelin unraveled the few remaining strands of her braid, and a small cloth packet fell into her hand. She glanced at the crumbled powder inside the little pouch, and a grin unfolded across her face as an idea rapidly took shape in her mind. "Elide?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you have scissors?"

"What the fuck, Whitethorn?" Lorcan barged into Rowan's office, his usual scowl etched across his face.

Rowan set down the compass he'd been using to plot lines across the maps spread out on his desk and fixed his right-hand man with a long-suffering look. "What the fuck what, Lorcan Lochan?" He never could resist ribbing Lorcan about his married name.

"You tell me." Lorcan glared at Rowan. "What the fuck is the Galathynius heir doing on our ship, and why the fuck has my wife become such close friends with her in half a day?"

"Aelin Ashryver Galathynius is how we get to the Havilliard island, and as for what she and Elide are doing, maybe your wife is just happy to have another woman aboard." Dismissively, Rowan turned his attention back to his maps.

"Bullshit," Lorcan grunted. "But fine. Maybe Li is just happy that there's another woman. Though I think the fucking knives they've been throwing at our fucking dart board have more to do with that."

"Fucking gods--" Rowan dropped his compass and pen with a clatter and stormed out of his office and up to the deck, shoving his way past the handful of his crewmen who were gathered around the--

Fuck. Him.

Aelin wore fitted pants that clung to the lines of her lean legs and a simple blouse that was belted at the waist. With a clean flick of her wrist, she sent a small, slim knife whistling through the air, and the blade lodged itself just beneath a longer one near the center of the dart board. Elide whooped, and Aelin brushed a strand of wine-red hair...

Her hair was red. Not red, fucking wine colored, a deep, rich, almost burgundy hue that soaked up the sunlight. And the loose, wavy strands barely brushed her shoulders, when Rowan could swear that her messy golden-blonde braid had almost reached her hips when he carried her down to her cabin the night before.

He was going to punch the next crewman who looked at Aelin's legs in both eyes, right after he made that man regret even thinking about Aelin's legs. And now he was thinking about Aelin's legs. Preferably wrapped around his shoulders with her head arched back while she yelled his name to the gods.

Fucking hell.

"I see you've made yourself at home, my lady," he drawled.

Aelin whirled around, knife raised in one fist while the other curved slightly behind her hips in an oddly familiar gesture that prickled at a corner of Rowan's brain. In the afternoon sun, her hair picked up a brighter red tint, almost like flames around her head. "Elide kindly agreed to help me with my throwing form," she replied as her tense, defensive posture relaxed. "Though I'm sure that you're going to impose some arbitrary restriction against me throwing knives now that you've discovered it."

A corned of his lips tugged upwards. "And deny both me and my crew the delight of your obvious skill? Hell no." He turned to address his crew. "Gents, and Elide, this here is Aelin, and she's going to get us to that island we've been seeking."

Lorcan made an unimpressed sound. "She's going to get us to Doranelle?"

Rowan narrowed his eyes at the taller man. "Yep."

Aelin coughed softly, drawing his attention back to her. "Well, as entertaining as this was, I get the sense that I should go." Before he could stop her, she ducked down the hatch and slipped out of sight.

She'd lodged the desk chair beneath the door handle before she went to bed, but Aelin still startled each time a set of booted feet thudded past her door. Stars blinked into view as night's darkness settled over the ocean, and she gazed out the small porthole window up into the sky, tracing the paths of the constellations.

Unlike most others, she had never needed maps when she had the stars.

Aelin wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and leaned against the cool wood of the cabin wall, allowing the soothing lap of the waves rushing past the ship's hull to calm her mind. It had been a close brush with danger up there on the deck, those brief seconds when Rowan had interrupted her and Elide's throwing session and she'd almost launched that knife into his throat.

It had been an even closer brush with danger when Elide's husband Lorcan--the tall, dark-haired, scowling man next to Rowan, who Elide had pointed out--had let the name of the island slip. Rowan had glared at his right-hand man, probably because he had wanted to name the island the next time he came to press Aelin for information she wouldn't give him, and she was able to hide the flash of shock that had jolted her at hearing the word.

Doranelle.

She hadn't set foot on that tiny, beautiful, cleverly isolated island in far too long. And with the stars lighting the sky above, she wouldn't need a map to finally reach it again. Nor did she need Dorian Havilliard, despite his benevolent intentions, to protect Doranelle's secrets. As her betrothed, and as a distantly related descendant of the Galathynius family line, Dorian had been entrusted with keeping the near-mythical island behind its veils.

Aelin's whole being yearned to see the island again.

But until she knew that Rowan Whitethorn and his crew of pirates would honor what the island protected, she could not let him go there with her.

~~~

tags:

@live-the-fangirl-life

@superspiritfestival

@thegreyj

@wordsafterhours

@elentiyawhitethorn

@morganofthewildfire

@mariaofdoranelle

@rowanaelinn

@house-of-galathynius

@tomtenadia

@julemmaes

@swankii-art-teacher

@charlizeed

@booknerdproblems

@earthtolinds

@goddess-aelin

@sweet-but-stormy

@clea-nightingale

@autumnbabylon

@darling-im-the-queen-of-hell

@llyncooljones

@silentquartz

@aelinschild

@renxzs

#my writing #swords and sea breezes #pirate au #more pirates lmao #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #aelin ashryver galathynius #rowan whitethorn #aelin x rowan #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin fanfiction #throne of glass #queen of shadows #empire of storms #throne of glass fanfic #throne of glass fanfiction

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endlessnightlock · 7 months

Note

I scare easily lol, but how about Hitchhiker from the horror prompts?

Thanks for the prompt, Anon! I know horror isn't the most popular genre in the Everlark fan community, lol, so I kept it pretty mild.

A-Z Horror prompts

(if you like weird stuff, send me a prompt from the list, fam. This is the only one I got so I'm open to more!)

The guy in the interview room says he's Peeta Mellark. He's not carrying identification, and his prints aren't in the state or federal system, so he could be anybody. I don't know if he has a reason to lie. He's young. Looks like shit. My first thought was junkie, but his eyes are clear.

The kid can't keep his leg still. I say leg, singular because he only has the one. I know that detail because my report states that when Peeta Mellark was brought in, the upper right-hand portion of his blood-soaked jeans was torn away, revealing a prosthetic leg attached well above his knee. Now he's in county-issued scrubs. We were out of sweats and T-shirts. He's not under arrest. He has no wounds, no scratches or caked skin under his nails, only the beginnings of a large bruise on the side of his face. And a story that can’t be true. Can it?

"Your leg a recent injury?" I ask, leaning back in my chair.

The kid shakes his head, never breaking stride with the leg. None of that blood on him was his. I know that. I'm just trying to get him talking.

"Childhood cancer. I lost my leg maybe twelve years ago. Good thing, too. If I'd just got the new one attached, I wouldn't have got away tonight. Took a while to get used to it," he explains, patting his left leg. "Wasn't the fastest runner to begin with. My ma says I stomp around like a bear."

He's rambling, but it's understandable if there's an inch of truth to his story. "Lucky guy. Well, Peeta, let's get directly to the point. I looked over the statement you gave Officer Leeg and watched the interview. I have some concerns."

Peeta meets my eye. Despite the jackshit he told Leeg, I'd swear he's not on anything. "I know it sounds crazy---"

"Yeah, it does."

"You should've been there," he said. "Do I have to tell you everything again? I'm, ah, I'm about to pass out or something. Haven't slept much the last few days."

"No, that's alright. Just answer a few questions if you wouldn't mind."

"Do I need a lawyer?" He asks, leg finally stopping.

"It's never a bad idea. But we're not figuring you as the perpetrator at this point. I can call you a public defendant if you want."

"Nah."

"So you told Officer Leeg that at approximately seven p.m., you were out on Highway 12, looking to hitch a ride. Never a good idea, you know that, right?" I add for good measure. "All kinds of things are liable to happen, as you well know."

Peeta shrugs. "I don't have a car. Still have places I need to get to."

"Ever heard of Uber?"

"Got to have money for that or at least plastic. I'm a little short at the moment."

"Seems like your ass just dropped in from Jupiter or something."

He laughs. Starting to loosen up. "No, I'm not claiming an alien abducted me."

"No. No mention of that. Let's go over what happened again, alright? I'll read over things and just ask questions where I feel it's warranted. So you're on Highway 12 with your thumb out when a Chevy truck, mid 80's model, you think?"

Peeta nods. "Tan and white. Decent shape. Some rust."

"And inside the truck's cab were three young men about your age. They had dark hair and an olive complexion, you said."

He squints at me. "Yes, they had a similar look to yours. Do you have many relations around here?"

"A Lot of us look alike in Seamtown. There was probably lots of inbreeding in the old days."

Peeta laughs, and I wink at him.

"Kidding. We're backwoods, but all of our DNA strands don't match. So back to your statement---these fellas offer to give you a ride."

For someone who said he was too tired to relay the whole story again, Peeta dives in head first. "Yep. There was no room in the cab, but the bed was empty. Was riding with them maybe half an hour before things started getting weird. It was really dark before Gale, the driver, flipped the headlights on. Seconds before before he slammed on the brakes. I about jumped out of my skin when something bounced off the front of the truck. I figured it was a deer. Lots of deer on the move around here at night. He didn't give me time to look around, just started arguing with the other two fellas---his brothers I think---before pushing the pedal to the floor. Seemed in a big hurry to get away. Anyway, he cut the headlights off, so I didn't get a look at what he hit with the truck, but whatever it was didn't look like a deer."

Now we're getting to the first interesting part of Peeta Mellark's statement to my officer: the part where it sounds like Gale Hawthorne (it's a small place, Seamtown) and his younger brothers involved themselves in a hit-and-run on Highway 12.

"So we've gone about five or so miles down the road, I guess, when Gale swerves to the side of the road and comes to a stop. 'This is as far as I can take you,' he said. He sounded frantic. 'Hop out.'"

"He never got out of the truck. It's black as pitch by now, and I'm not excited about being left alone on the side of the road, but after what happened earlier, it doesn't take much convincing to get me out of the truck bed. Something feels off, and I'd rather part company with them before anything else goes wrong. If something bad happened, they might be looking to get rid of a witness, I figured."

"So I hop out of the back of the truck and tell Gale thanks. He mutters something, then guns it out onto the road, and soon, the only thing I can make out is his taillights. I was still figuring out what I was going to do next when I heard it. Breaks squealing and tires screaming across the pavement, trying to stop fast. Then, that crashing sound, twisting, popping, tearing metal that makes you sick to your stomach."

I know exactly what he's describing. Been witness to too many accidents to get those sounds out of my head.

"Gale, he'd hit something else, and whatever it was, it was way bigger than a deer. I take off in a dead sprint towards the truck—at least as fast as I can run, thanks to my bionic leg. They're a good two or three miles down the road, but I'm fairly close when, all of a sudden, I'm not running on the road anymore—I'm off the ground. Feet dangling ten fuckin' feet above the pavement."

"I can't remember a whole lot after that, just the explosion when the truck's fuel tank blew. Whatever had me, some kind of huge bird, maybe some guy in a glider or something? dropped me onto the road, maybe 50 yards past the truck. That's when my pants got ripped. I don't know where all that blood came from. I'm sorry. I don't remember everything that happened tonight. Might have hit my head when that thing dropped me."

Peeta's brows knit together as his relay of the events comes to an end. "Chief Abernathy, can I ask you something? That officer I talked to earlier, Leeg? She wouldn't tell me what Gale hit with his truck when I was with them. I don't...I don't think it was a deer. It's driving me crazy. He drove off so fast, I can't help wondering if he hit someone with the truck."

I fold my arms on the tabletop and sigh. No reason to lie. the kid figured it out on his own. "Between me and you, we found a young woman in the location you described to us."

The color drains from his face. "Was she okay?" he asked.

There's a note of hope in his voice I hated to dash. "Nah, kid. She's dead."

His eyes glaze over, and he slumps backward as the reality hits him. "Hers is a sad story," I admit. "Second, hell, make that the third tragedy to happen in that family. The girl's parents died in a house fire. The oldest daughter was asleep in bed at the time. Fire didn't kill her but left burns across her whole body. Lost her mind. The county sent her somewhere for mental treatment---girl claimed she was some sort of mythological bird. Like a phoenix, but that's not what she called it. Happened a dozen or so odd years ago."

"A Mockingjay," Peeta said, turning to face the two-way mirror in the room. "I read something about her somewhere," he added casually.

I snap my fingers. "Yeah, that was it. Mockingjay. The girl disappeared from the facility one day. Katniss Everdeen. The young lady who died tonight was her sister Prim. You wonder how much a person can take without breaking all that death and pain. I don't know what Katniss would do if she found out about her sister's death on top of everything else."

"Maybe she already knows," Peeta says, his leg beginning to shake again. "Uh, confession time, I guess."

He waves his hands. "Not about anything tonight. I was at the facility with her, with Katniss. We kind of had a thing, I don't know. I left right after she disappeared. I didn't go home. I guess I've sort of been wandering around the area, looking for her since."

"Really. Odd that you weren't in our system, then."

Peeta rolled his eyes. "It was a physical rehab place, not drug detox. We weren't criminals. What happened to Gale and his brothers?"

I shake my head. "Gale's in the morgue. One brother with him. One in intensive care."

"Shit," he murmurs, rubbing his eyes. "Christ. Hey, am I free to go?"

I stand. "Free as the wind. Just let us know before you head out of town. Do you have somewhere to go tonight, kid?"

Peeta nods. "Yeah, I think so."

When he stands I pat him on the shoulder. "Thanks again. I'll see if we have something else you can wear."

Within a half hour or so, we had Peeta on his way. I don't know where he planned to go, but I never saw him again after that. It was almost like he'd been plucked off the ground by whatever that thing was and put somewhere safe.

#endlessnightlock writes #this got a little weird but it's not gory #non-specific injuries #everlark fanfiction #modern a/u #horror a/u

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chaosgremlinmunson · 3 months

Text

Forever with you

For @steddie-week July7: Free space

I chose to write Steddie getting engaged, featuring Stobin and the meddling platonic soulmate.

If anyone had told Steve when he was younger that he would meet a group of people who loved him so fiercely the world itself shook from their ire should he be harmed, he'd have laughed at them. Steve Harrington had been a douche-bag jock, a prima-donna self centered jerk, an air headed pretty boy. He was good for a hook-up, a kiss, maybe even a few dates, but young Steve was not someone you thought of when you thought about sensitive, caring, kind people who would drop the world just to make sure you were okay and had anything you needed. Yet here he was at 20 years old, the apocalypse finally over and he was surrounded by so much love and devotion from the ragtag group who'd long ago become his found family.

Steve smiled to himself sipping from his champagne flute as the platonic love of his life held firmly to the girl she chose to marry, their first dance as a wedded couple and you could see for them the rest of the world had melted away. Steve looked across the room where Eddie sat with Dustin, they laughed together over something Eddie had said.

Steve found himself smiling dopily as he watched them interact, his brother and the love of his life getting on like a house on fire as they always did. Steve remembered the sleepless nights beside Eddie's hospital bed as he prayed to God he wasn't sure existed for him to please make it, please wake up. He remembered the first time Eddie’s fingers curled around his hand while he was still lost in his own mind, deep in that coma he was fighting to escape. He remembered the tears falling when those huge brown eyes opened, and he'd rasped a “hey, big boy” at Steve who couldn't stop the joyous laugh at finally seeing Eddie awake.

He remembered the first months of grueling therapy, Eddie relearning to walk again, his body betraying him but he kept on. How Eddie insisted he was going to walk to Steve one day without the need to hold onto rails. Eddie did it, yes he needed a can now, but he was walking. He remembered the first night he made them dinner together as more than friends, how he melted into the hesitant and shy kiss Eddie gave him as he knelt down to adjust Eddie's pillows.

Steve remembered every moment they had together, and now here he was, twenty years old and ready to spend the rest of his life making this man smile. Robin came up beside Steve to sit at the sweetheart table after dance, her eyes following his line of sight.

“Just think, Dingus, this time next year we could be celebrating your wedding.” She murmured.

“I have to ask him first, Bobbin. And I can't do that tonight, I refuse to take away from your special day.” He grinned back.

“Oh pshh, listen, I have an idea.” She leaned in whispering in his ear and his grin grew wider still before she showed him across the room. Standing she clinked her champagne flute with a fork calling attention from the crowd, “Hi everyone, i just wanted to thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate with us. Ronnie and I are so glad to have each and everyone of you by our side on our special day. The only thing that could make today any better and brighter was if my best friend, my brother from a different mother, and absolute favorite human on this earth was getting married today too. But, since he insisted he didn't want to take away from my day, I had to give him a kick in his ass, Eddie dearest, my Dingus has a super special question to ask you.”

Eddie gaped at Robin and then looked up at Steve who dropped to one knee before Eddie.

“You're better with words than I can ever be, but I love you so much, and nothing in this world would make me happier than if you would do me the honor of being my husband.” Steve said smiling up at Eddie, his own eyes shining with love and devotion.

“As if I'd say anything except for yes to any future with you Stevie.” Eddie pulled Steve in by the hand kissing him, “yes! I'll marry you!” Steve slipped a solid black and silver band on Eddie's finger. The engraving on the ring was the same as that from Lord of the Rings, and Eddie giggled looking back up to Steve's face.

“A toast!” Called Robin, “to the happiness and fortuitous future of my platonic soulmate and the man he loves!”

“Hear! Hear!” Yelled the rest of the room as Steve and Eddie held each other in a warm embrace.

#steddie week #steddieweek2024 #free space #steddie proposal #steve is so in love with eddie #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #fanfiction #robin buckley

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roxygen22 · 5 months

Text

Still Here (Chapter 7)

Summary: Three little words from Timmy send you into a panic.

A/N: A shorter chapter, but a BIG one.

Catch up on previous chapters here.

"I should have followed you when you asked me."

In slow motion, Timothée's lips met yours. They were as plush and soft as you remembered. His hands eagerly made their way to your hips to pull your body to his. One of your hands snaked up his back while the other gripped his neck to pull him deeper into the kiss.

"[Y/N], I love you," he moaned when came up for air.

Instantly, you pulled away. He kept his arms out, stunned by your sudden absence from them.

"Timmy...I can't tell you how much I want this. I have feelings for you, too. But it's too soon. I- I can't say it back yet," your voice trembled. You walked over to his truck and dropped the tailgate to sit. "This isn't just a matter of picking up where we left off 12 years ago. I've lived a whole separate life in between. I have a daughter depending on me to keep my shit together.

I got so wrapped up in being wife and mother, I- I don't even know who I am anymore. I need to figure that out first. I rushed headlong into my last relationship with blinders on. I couldn't see anything else but him. I latched onto him because I was alone and lonely. Sound familiar? I lost myself in trying to be whatever he wanted me to be. I can't- I can't do that again." You put both of your hands to your forehead. "I've barely been back more than a month, and I'm already entertaining a new relationship."

Timothée joined you on the tailgate. "But, it's not new."

"Yes, it is!" you shouted. "I'm not the same person I was 12 years ago. We need to get to know each other again to make sure we actually like each other for who we are now, not just getting wrapped up in the nostalgia of what was. I- I've been hurt, wounded, heart flayed open at the hands of someone else who also once said they loved me. Then they fell out of love with me. What does that say about me? What does that say about love?" your voice faded to a whisper.

"It says more about him," Timothée growled. "That he's a damn fool. And so was I to let you go in the first place. But unlike that idiot, I NEVER STOPPED LOVING YOU!" He jumped off the tailgate to pace the sidewalk.

You blinked owlishly at him. "What?"

"Why do you think I couldn't follow through with my engagement in Texas? She was funny, beautiful even...but she wasn't you. And that wasn't fair to her."

"And I don't think this is fair to you!" you exclaimed. "I feel so drained right now. I don't have a lot of emotional energy to offer, and what reserve I do have needs to go to Madison. She's my number one priority. I hope you understand that I'm not saying no. I'm asking for slow."

He stopped pacing and stood directly in front of you, one hand resting on your knee. The other cupped your face. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll go as slow as you need. But, I'm not going to stop telling you that I love you. You deserve to hear it. Know it. Feel it. I will still be here when you decide it's safe to love me back." He broke the seriousness with a flash of his classic lopsided grin. "And if you think being honest with me is going to change how I feel about you, then maaaaybe you're not quite as smart as I thought."

You laughed softly and leaned into his touch. "I'm glad I haven't scared you off. Most men would turn tail and run at the sight of a divorcée with a pre-teen daughter."

"Well, I'm not most men, and I've actually grown quite fond of Madison," Timothée replied.

"I can tell. And she likes you, too, it seems. I think that's what scares me most, though. Any decision I make impacts her as well. She got hurt in all of this, too. I don't want her to get attached to someone who may not stick around. Not that- I don't mean that you would do that. Just in general."

"I knew what you meant. I respect you for putting her first. I would expect nothing less from you. And I'd sooner walk through fire than hurt her." He kissed the top of your head and sat back down beside you. You rested your head on his shoulder for a few silent moments.

"We seem to have our most serious conversations in the back of this truck." You looked up at him and half-smiled.

"I can think of some other things that have happened in this truck, too." He winked.

"Timmy!" you popped him lightly on the arm in feigned embarrassment.

"So what now?" he asked in a more serious tone.

"I don't know. This is new to me, too. I guess we do what we have been doing. We hang out. We talk. We get to know each other's adult selves. But no PDA in front of Maddy. Not yet. I will talk to her when I feel the time is right and slowly introduce the concept of me dating again."

"I can live with that. But when she's not around, can I still do this?" He leaned over and teasingly grazed his lips over yours.

"I can live with that," you breathed out. This time, you closed the gap, all but slamming your mouth against his for a deeper kiss.

<><><><><>

Chapter 8

Masterlist

Tag List: @croatianprincess @bluizh

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writingforstraykids · 8 months

Text

My beloved cutie mooties🥺🖤

(edited 12.05.24)

🖤@atinyniki🖤

Niki, my beautiful sunshine, I'm so grateful to have you through thick and thin. I'm still convinced you're cute and idc whether you accept that or not. I love talking to you and you're one of the kindest people I know (unless you yell at me you meanie...joking obviously, chill guys😂🖤) I'll always be there for you...also pls stop spending so much money on me cutie😭 Keep shining sunny bunny...love you, pretty girl🖤

🖤@zehina🖤

my beloved (not so silent anymore) bestie, i love our shared European confusion and confusing the others together in return. you're such a cute little kitty and we all know u love being called cute so...you're very cute, deal with it🤭I love our shared stupidity whenever we talk about the boys and seriously, every time you send me your part for the rambles I'd drop to my knees and pay for it bc holy shit. I'll always be there if you need me, keep fighting lovey. love you unnie🖤

🖤@galaxycatdrawz🖤

azzy, I'm so proud of slowly pulling you a little from the shadows you were hiding in😂 also...idk how I managed to do so, but I'm still laughing about achieving most of your tumblr milestones😭 i love sharing requests with you, working out ideas or simply do as you said and write what my brain couldn't figure out. thank you for always being there for me and sharing your brilliant brain with me, co-writer🤭 also it's such a bummer we live so far away bc after what we talked about so far I know you'd be the best cuddle buddy🥺 love you azzy my cutest little thing🖤

🖤@jinnie-ret 🖤

jinnie my dear, even though we haven't talked that much so far, I always love it when we get the chance🤭 can't wait to get to know you better as well and I'm already so excited for that fic👀looveeee your writing sm🖤

🖤@sona1800🖤

you're my newest mootie and I love you so much already it's ridiculous (niki can confirm that🥹) you're always so sweet and you literally outshine every fic with your loving reblogs and comments (I'm just too speechless to answer properly, I really love them🥺) so yeah, that's why you got the tag "the cutest" 🤭🖤

🖤@silverstarburst🖤

Ash. my dear, we don't have that much time to talk usually because you're either working or I'm asleep (a rarity but still). Nevertheless, you have a special place in my heart by now and I'm thankful for your presence in my life. I know who to text if I need someone to kick ass. Your reblogs make me smile like some idiot every time, thank you so much for appreciating my lil dummy ideas so much. love you mama wolf🖤

🖤@slutforchanlix🖤

Miu, babyy, I've made you cry way too often with stuff like this—my bad. I know it's not always easy, but you're one of the kindest people I know, and I love that I have someone with whom I can talk in my native language for once. You're a sweetheart and thank you for always being there for me. I still plan to meet you one day hehe. Long story short, you're amazing, don't let anyone else try to make you believe anything less than that. Bin immer für dich da🖤

🖤@michelle4eve🖤

heyy mimi, we haven't talked much so far...sometimes accidentally when you mistook my icon for niki's I hope that's easier now😂😉 you seem like such a kind soul and I hope we'll get closer over time (no rush dear!) I'm happy over each of your reblogs, especially after you told us you're too shy to do so sometimes. I really appreciate it, you cutie🖤

🖤@chrizzztopherbang🖤

I always loved seeing you pop up in my notifications with your sweet comments. I already think you're a sweetheart, I know we haven't talked that much yet. Still, I loved prereading your fics and getting a glimpse into your genius brain. Don't give up writing as long as you have fun with it, because you're truly amazing at it🖤

🖤@wolfyychan🖤

You've been around on my prior blog already and still my stupid brain didn't realize you've changed usernames for so long😭😂 I always look forward to your excited comments and reblogs, they're truly a boost of motiviation ngl. Hope to have you around for a long time🤭🖤

🖤@james-is-here🖤

Your excitement for that Minchan series made me think about writing bonus chapters for the first time in months. I really love seeing how you get so invested in some of the stories, which makes me want to do better hehe. Also...omg...I'm still thinking about that one fic you wrote a while ago🫠 I'm excited to see what's next and hope we'll get the chance to maybe talk some more🖤

🖤@queer-possum🖤

Without giving away too much, your brain is amazing. I love your requests so much and you're always so kind when I get back to you to make sure I get everything right. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write about certain topics and stuff I haven't so far🖤

🖤@chanandminhoenthusiast🖤

love, love, loveee your blog (for obvious inspirational reasons😉) you seemed like a very sweet soul whenever we talked before and I'll always be there if you need someone to talk, even about the most random bullshit😂🖤

🖤@palindrome969🖤

You're such a lovely person, I can't even put it into words properly. Your writing is beautiful and I'm still in love with that stargazing fic with Channie😭 always love talking to you and seeing your comments🖤

🖤@5starluvr🖤

I've told you so before, I wanna kiss your brain so bad sometimes. The stuff you come up with for me to write is brilliant. I can't wait to finish more of your requests and share ideas as soon as possible! Love you hehe🖤

🖤@mellhwang🖤

Heyy sweetie, I love seeing you in my notes and I swear I'll get that Minchan x Hyunjin thing done for you!! Thank you for all the love, dear🖤

🖤@lost-in-avoidance🖤

The amount of times I made you choke back tears at work is...concerning and I'm so sorry, I don't do it on purpose, I swear😭😂 your reblogs are always so genuine and make me feel like I did exactly what I wanted to with the fic in question. I appreciate your words so much, thank you!

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rosanna-writer · 5 months

Text

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (20/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~5k

Content warning for canon-typical violence and animal death. Some text in this chapter is taken directly from A Court of Mist and Fury.

Read on AO3 or you can find the twentieth chapter below the readmore.

Mud didn't seep through Illyrian leathers. A small mercy, perhaps, but after sitting in it for a few hours, the cold was infinitely more tolerable when I stayed dry. I couldn't move, not without scaring away the ducks that were finally beginning to forget that I was sitting on the edge of the pond.

And I'd been dispatched to find dinner.

We'd fanned out to cover more ground—someone in Windhaven must have tipped the rogue war-bands off, and they'd retreated deeper into the forest. Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel took turns flying circles overhead, looking for signs of movement.

We'd likely be out here several days, too long to carry enough food to last the whole time. Though I knew it was to put some distance between me and an initial confrontation with hotheaded warriors with a hatred for humans, I didn't mind. The work needed to get done anyway.

I still hated hunting, but being out in the woods alone cleared my head. There was a quiet and stillness that was impossible to find in a city, even one as lovely as Velaris. I let my mind wander, and I considered how to best capture the dappled sunlight on the water if I ever painted this view. Filling a full canvas still felt like a long way off, but…perhaps a landscape would be the way to ease back into it. Maybe I'd paint a mountain before I tackled everything that had happened under one.

But I could only think of painting for so long, and the ducks were still flitting about too nervously for my liking. I sat a bit longer, and my mind drifted to other things.

Rhys never told me if he was proposing or not. I hadn't asked again. In truth, I had no idea what I was supposed to do after recovering the ring—return it to him? I couldn't wear it openly, at least not without inviting questions we weren't ready to answer. But I hadn't seen a faerie wear a wedding band or use a surname or even known someone else with a mate.

And if faerie funerals were so different from mortal ones, then I supposed weddings would be, too. Especially when a High Lord was involved. Gods, the only person I'd talked to about the difference between marriage and mating had been Tamlin—there was no reason to believe anything he'd told me was accurate.

I was out of my depth. But the ducks had finally settled, so I did the one thing I was good for and let an arrow fly. It speared a bird through the neck, killing it instantly.

The rest of the flock alighted—I had to move quickly. Half on instinct, I aimed, accounting for their speed and direction as I shot down three more, one right after the other. Every arrow found its mark, and the unlucky ducks dropped to the ground as the rest soared away.

My hips and knees barked in protest as I stood; crouching in the mud for so long had left me stiff. At least nothing had gone numb this time.

I felt better, though, even with the tedious task of retrieving, cleaning, and cooking the game ahead of me. In the Spring Court, I'd gotten comfortable and let my guard down far too easily. I'd never felt safer or more taken care of in my life than I had in these last two weeks with Rhys in Velaris, but…I'd worried, on some level, that I'd gotten soft or lost my skills because of it. Bagging those ducks proved I hadn't.

Being loved didn't make me any less a wolf.

I gathered the birds and made my way to the place we'd agreed to meet up at sunset. Without wax or even a large pot of water, I'd either have to breast them out—which would waste some of the meat—or pluck the feathers one by one to roast them whole. And we needed to get a fire started.

I was still plucking the first bird when Azriel arrived. There was a smear of blood on his leathers, and that told me enough—whatever had happened resulted in no survivors. Wordlessly, he grabbed a carcass, sat down next to me, and began ripping the feathers off, too.

No one had ever done that for me. Not my sisters or my father, not even when I'd asked for help.

Cassian landed not long after that, grim-faced and slightly bloodied. He nodded a greeting, then crouched and began coaxing a fire to life. "We're lucky to have a professional around," he said, indicating the carcasses with a jerk of his head.

"Did I catch enough?" I said.

"More than enough to ensure we don't have to listen to Cassian's stomach growl all night," Azriel said.

Knowing that none of us would go hungry set me at ease. The duck in my hand felt like even more of a tangible contribution, proof that it hadn't been a mistake to bring me to Illyria. I smiled to myself and kept ripping out feathers.

I hadn't heard him winnow in, but I felt the familiar darkness of Rhys's power reaching for me again. I turned to see him walking towards us through the trees. As he got closer, my eyes drifted to a scratch on his cheek. Then all my attention locked onto it.

Hardly a scrape—whoever had done it hadn't even broken the skin, and his magic was already halfway done healing it. My blood boiled anyway. Someone had gotten close enough to get a talon or a weapon on him.

"Who," I said, though the word was more growl than speech.

"They're dead," Rhys said.

I was on my feet without even realizing it, closing the distance between us in long strides. "Good. Did you—"

"Yes. All by my hand."

The scratch had faded completely, but I reached for the place it had been. Rhys caught my wrist and tugged me to him. The momentum made my greeting more collision than kiss. I nearly knocked us both over, but Rhys was solid and steady as his other arm twined around my waist to crush me against him.

We'd only been apart a few hours, but someone had almost drawn blood from my mate; an utterly irrational wave of guilt that I hadn't been there to stop it and relief that he was fine had swept away my good sense. I was already pawing at him with my free hand.

The pointed clearing of a throat cut through the mating-bond-induced madness. Without looking up from the bird he was still plucking, Azriel said, "I'd like to remind everyone that we agreed no sharing bedrolls on this mission."

I didn't have it in me to feel embarrassed. Perhaps I couldn't feel ashamed of anything when Rhys had an arm around me. I interlaced our fingers and pulled him back towards the fire.

We sat down, and Cassian dug a rag out of his pack and tossed it in our direction. I reached up to catch it, but it snagged on one of Rhys's talons.

Cassian grinned. "That's for Feyre. I can tell she's dying to clean you off."

Rhys narrowed his eyes, flicking a finger towards the rag, and it dissolved into mist. "I'm not an invalid," he grumbled. On my other side, Azriel chuckled.

Cassian took over the rest of the cooking after that, and one knowing look we shared across the fire was enough to tell me he'd made do with unseasoned game and campfires plenty of times before. Roasted whole, the duck wasn't half-bad.

Before long, night fell, and we were divvying up shifts to keep watch. I took the first, then had no trouble falling asleep—not in the open air, underneath the stars. The next day was more of the same as we tracked the rogue war-bands deeper into the forest.

On the third day of hunting, I was crouched up a tree when a glint of something bright green tore my attention away from the forest floor. I'd assumed the shape circling above had been a bird, perhaps a hawk or a vulture, and hadn't thought much about it.

But birds didn't sparkle. That was an emerald-colored siphon.

The path the Illyrian was taking brought him closer, but I didn't think he'd spotted me. I froze. He flew closer, almost in range of my bow.

I didn't dare even breathe too loudly. Keen faerie senses were difficult to hide from, and even if I stayed hidden, his looping flight pattern would send him back in the opposite direction and I'd miss an opportunity.

He came closer. And closer. There was no time to run.

I grabbed an ash arrow and took the shot.

The arrow ripped a hole in one of his wings, and the Illyrian plummeted to the ground like a stone in water. I scrambled down from my perch and barreled through the trees. As I ran, I pulled another ash arrow from my quiver—a fall from that height could have been deadly, but if not, an injured Illyrian warrior could still find a way to bury a dagger in my belly.

I heard him moaning in pain before I stepped into the clearing where he'd fallen. He'd landed on his back, torso twisted and his legs bent at unnatural angles. A shattered pelvis at the least, maybe even a snapped spine. Healing magic was the only thing keeping him alive. The siphon on his chest flickered weakly, like a heart struggling to beat.

At the sound of my footsteps, his head turned. His eyes burned with hate as he reached for a knife strapped to his belt. I nocked the ash arrow, aiming directly for his face as I took a step closer. His hand stilled.

"Tell me where the others are hiding," I said. "Don't bother lying. The High Lord is on his way."

"I won't take orders from Rhysand's human whore," he spat.

"The best outcome you can hope for is a mercy kill before he arrives. Give up their locations, and I'll consider it."

For a long moment, he said nothing. My arm began to ache from keeping the bowstring pulled back, and I prayed my fingers wouldn't start shaking. I said nothing either, just tried to emulate Azriel's deadly, stone-faced resolve.

The Illyrian's hand twitched, but his fingers never closed around the hilt of the knife. Instead, through clenched teeth, he recited the litany of names and locations I was after. I believed him—I doubted he was in a state to lie convincingly.

As I listened, I gave one insistent tug on the bond and dropped my shields so Rhys could hear it all, too. The beast that had once rested in my mind became a furious thing growling and snapping its jaws.

The clearing plunged into darkness. I couldn't see where Rhys was, but I felt his power sliding along my skin all the same.

"Is that all?" I said, my voice so cold I hardly recognized it as my own.

The Illyrian whimpered something that might have been "yes." I loosed the arrow; even under the cover of Rhys's darkness, my aim stayed true. The point landed in the Illyrian's eye, buried deep enough in his skull to render him still and silent forever.

Just like Andras.

Even with the threat gone, the darkness didn't clear. I glanced up, and my vision had adjusted enough to make out Rhys's silhouette, his wings flared and hands shaking.

"You should have called me the moment you spotted him," Rhys said, voice ragged.

"I handled it," I said simply.

Rhys growled. At me. And the fact that I was too human to properly bare my teeth and return the favor—rage bubbled under my skin. If he'd been closer, I would have shoved him.

"Then why bring me here?" I hissed. "Just to humor me?"

I felt like such a fool for not having realized it sooner. Killing a few ducks was hardly a real contribution—they might as well have patted me on the head and told the High Lord's little human mate she'd done such a good job. Shame made my cheeks go hot.

"Don't be stupid, Feyre," Rhys snapped.

The darkness rippled and churned around us, like a storm at sea. The tendrils seemed to lap at me, pressing close then retreating, even as they skittered down my spine. Magic thrummed in the air.

I crossed my arms. "I'm not."

"You could have gotten yourself killed. Even Cassian won't run into a fight without backup if it's available. There were three of us who could have gone with you, but for reasons I can't even begin to fathom, you waited until the very last second."

I'd never seen Rhys this…undone. Not even when I'd first gone Under the Mountain. His breathing was ragged, and there was a note of panic in his voice I'd never heard before.

"I…I didn't think to ask. At least not at first. I called for you as soon as I remembered." As ridiculous as it sounded when I said it aloud, it was true. But the habit of doing everything on my own was a difficult one to break.

Rhys sighed, his shoulders slumping as the fight went out of him. The darkness seemed to lift, but before I could be sure, he'd winnowed closer and pulled me against his chest. I couldn't see much other than his wings cocooning me.

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "I love your fearlessness just as much as every other part of you, but please remember that you're not alone anymore. I can't lose you, Feyre."

"I love you too," I said, voice thick. I set my bow down and hugged him back.

Both ends of the bond seemed to settle as we held each other. I savored it—the heat of him against me, the sun shining through his wings, the soft scrape of the scales of his leathers against my cheek.

"You are your own person, and I will not dictate your choices. Ever." Rhys picked a twig out of my hair; it must have gotten lodged in my braid when I'd climbed down from the tree. "If you'd told me what you were doing, I would only have asked you to allow me to come with for my own peace of mind."

I'd never asked why he'd gone alone to that cursed party fifty years ago. Maybe he'd insisted on it; maybe he'd also forgotten to ask for backup, then paid a terrible price. It seemed better not to bring it up.

"You aren't alone either," was all I said.

There was a pulse of something down the bond that I couldn't quite identify, then he stepped back, tucking his wings in tight. His expression was unreadable—a wall had gone back up.

"I've passed all the information on to Azriel, and his shadows are scouting out the locations we were given. Will you be able to keep going? It's alright if you're rattled—you did just kill someone."

There was nothing but a howling void where my guilt should have been. Perhaps I'd lost that piece of myself when I'd killed Andras. If anything, I just felt…numb. "He deserved it."

"I don't disagree."

Rhys let me into his mind as he conferred with the others. I relaxed when Azriel's shadows confirmed that the information I'd gathered was correct—at the very least, I'd saved us time trekking through the woods. I wasn't useless, hadn't been brought here for nothing after all.

Once the first war-band had been hauled back to Windhaven, Rhys wanted me to stay there. I didn't mind. Another set of eyes and ears on the camp was prudent, and I was still technically his emissary.

It was barely even noon when we returned. On Rhys's orders, Devlon's men had set up a line of wooden poles at the center of the camp, the area used for public gatherings. A small crowd had already begun to form. Among them, I spotted Devlon and the warriors who'd been flanking him earlier.

Cassian had wanted those poles burned. And after this, they would be. For the last fifty years, females had been tied to them when their wings had been clipped. The sight of them alone turned my stomach.

Rhys loosened his grip on his power, and from my place next to him, I could feel the magic radiating off him like heat. A gust of night-kissed wind had every member of the rebel war-band silent and tied to the posts.

"There is no tolerance for treason in the Night Court," Rhys said. His voice cut like a knife through the murmuring of the crowd. Pure command—the voice of the High Lord of the Night Court. "And to bow before an invading general who would butcher and enslave humans is particularly heinous. It spits on the graves of the soldiers who died for the mortals' freedom during the War. I'll leave your fate up to the human in our midst, Feyre Cursebreaker."

Every single set of eyes slid to me. The attention had my heart hammering in my chest, but I forced myself to mimic the small, cold smile I'd seen on Amren's face from time to time. When I'd yanked the ash arrow out of the dead warrior's eye, I hadn't bothered to clean it off, just returned it to my quiver.

The gore peeking over my shoulder was message enough.

"I'll make a final decision when the rest are captured. Flaying their skin from their bones seems merciful, but perhaps there's some creature in the Middle that might enjoy hunting them for sport," I said, making myself sound bored and aloof.

The spark of Rhys's approval down the bond bolstered my confidence for what I'd planned to do next. I stepped closer to one of the bound Illyrians and circled my hand around the thin, delicate bone at the edge of his wing, then snapped it in two.

I'd know that cracking sound anywhere. The air reeked of Wyrm shit again, mud clung to my skin, and the slithering behind me was getting closer and closer.

I was running, and—

It's over, Feyre. We got out.

Rhys's voice in my head jolted me out of the memory. I gripped one of his talons and pulled myself back to the present.

I'd survived. And no matter how much of a monster it made me, I'd ensure that no one, not even the most powerful faerie, would hurt me or anyone I loved. Not again.

Before Rhys could fuss, I was breaking the bones in the next Illyrian's wings. I gritted my teeth and ignored their cries of pain until I'd rendered every single one of them incapable of flight.

We locked eyes when it was done, but Rhys's beautiful face was an impenetrable mask I still hadn't learned to see past. "I'll be waiting here for you to bring me the rest," I said. No title or honorific—I'd let them all wonder why he hadn't misted me for speaking to him like that.

Rhys nodded once. He said nothing, but there was a question in the hesitant brush against my shields.

I'm fine. Really. Just bring me the rest so we can finish this quickly.

For a moment, the bond thrummed with wicked delight. Try not to burn down Windhaven while I'm gone.

He took to the sky. Without carrying a passenger, the movement was all perfect, lethal grace, and sometimes I wondered how I could possibly forget that Rhys was anything but an absurdly beautiful predator. I watched until he was out of sight, marveling that he was mine.

The crowd dispersed, and for a moment, I just stood there, unsure what to do with myself. Perhaps I'd spend the rest of the day being ignored by Illyrians. I wouldn't blame them for that—as faeries went about their business, I caught a few wary glances in my direction.

But I supposed I should probably clean off the bloodied arrows in my quiver. And my hands were badly in need of washing.

I made my way to the water pump at the center of the camp. An Illyrian female—around my age, if I had to guess, though it was impossible to be sure with immortals—had just started using using it. Large, brutal scars ran down both of her wings.

"I'll be a while. You can go first," she said, sliding her empty bucket out of the way with her foot. Now that I was closer, I spotted a bruise darkening her cheek, too.

"There's no need. I wouldn't want to waste your time if there are chores to be done," I said.

"You'd be doing me a favor—I'll take any excuse to be out of the house for a little while longer."

I understood—there had been countless days I'd dragged my feet because I hadn't wanted to face Nesta's barbed insults, my father's sad eyes, or Elain's clueless whining. And none of them had even raised a hand to me.

I gave the female a nod, pulled the bloody arrow from my quiver, and rinsed it off under the stream. Silence fell. The female said nothing else, and perhaps it would have been best to let the quiet stay unbroken. The chances were high a trip to gather water was a rare respite for her.

But I could feel her assessing gaze, and I struggled not to squirm under it. "Illyria is very beautiful," I blurted out awkwardly.

"It's a shithole."

"My shithole across the Wall didn't have mountains. It's prettier here, at least," I shook the excess water off the newly-clean arrow and slid it back into the quiver.

She snorted, lips tugging upward at the corners. "I'm Emerie."

"Feyre."

"I know. You're the Cursebreaker." Not awed, just matter-of-fact, which was a bit of a relief.

I scrubbed away the last of the dirt, dried off as best I could, then offered a hand to shake. Emerie took it, and I wasn't surprised that her grip was like iron, not with that straight-backed posture and sharp stare of hers.

I stayed while Emerie filled up her bucket, just talking a bit about Windhaven. She didn't offer up much about herself, and I didn't pry. But by the time she returned home, I'd learned what spices were in the Illyrian dish Cassian had brought to the townhouse the day I'd first trained with Rhys. Emerie had barked a laugh when I told her not to bother with advice on preparing it because I was an utterly hopeless cook.

Maybe I'd made a friend. But I'd also thought Lucien was a friend and he'd turned out to be assisting my kidnapper—I wasn't sure I trusted my judgement on that front anymore.

By the end of the day, Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel, had rounded up the rest of the rogue war-bands, and I'd broken the wings of the survivors. And as much as I wanted to go straight to the Weaver's cottage, I knew it was foolish to go so close to dark. Cassian planned to stay in Illyria, and Devlon was loyal enough not to release the prisoners under his nose in the dead of night or allow anyone else to manage it.

Rhys and I returned to the townhouse in need of a bath, so we took one together. We were both utterly exhausted—his eyes roved over me as I shucked off my leathers, but for once, he was silent.

I'd still snatched the long-handled sponge out of his hands and washed his wings for him. Even drained of energy, I wasn't about to forgo an opportunity to get my hands all over them. I took my time, appreciating the way the powerful muscles in his back rippled with every brush of my fingertips.

And once we were clean, he laid me out on his bed and licked until he'd wrung so much pleasure from me that I drifted into an easy sleep in his arms.

It had been exactly what we both needed. I could guess how he was feeling about a trip to Illyria with still-healing wings, and my mind was unable to keep replaying the sound of bones cracking when Rhys's tongue was sliding inside me.

My dreams were still horrifying—a bone-spear lancing through Rhys's eye, my hands covered in his blood—but I slept through the night and kept my dinner down. I woke alone in Rhys's bed that morning, which meant he'd probably slipped out once I'd drifted off. I suspected he'd had nightmares of his own, too.

I was pulling the belt of knives from my dresser when he winnowed behind me. "Allow me," he purred, right into my ear.

"I can do it myself," I said. After I'd mentioned chucking that knife at Tamlin, Azriel had showed me how to strap it on as part of my training to go Under the Mountain.

"I'm aware. That doesn't mean you have to."

He had a point, so I let him take it from me. I turned, and for a moment, we were chest-to-chest. He inhaled, drinking in my scent, and I lifted a hand to touch him.

But he dropped to his knees before I could. Flashing me a roguish grin, he spread open the web of leather and steel. My toes curled in my boots.

"Remind me of what you've been briefed on," he said as I stepped through the loops.

I did my best to ignore the steady brush of his hands as he set about adjusting and buckling and tightening things. "Knives only—no sword or bow or arrows. Don't touch anything that doesn't belong to me. Take my time to think about loopholes before agreeing on a bargain. Call for help if I need it. And stay alive before everything else," I recited.

"Precisely." He braced those strong, capable hands on my thighs and looked up at me. "You are more valuable than any treasure the Weaver could ever posses. If you need to leave the ring behind to come home to me, then that's what you do."

"I won't let it come to that."

Rhys got to his feet and kissed my cheek. "I believe you."

He winnowed us into a wood that was older, more aware, than any place I’d been.

The gnarled beech trees were tightly woven together, splattered and draped so thoroughly with moss and lichen that it was nearly impossible to see the bark beneath. The trees groaned—though there was no breeze to shift them. No, the air here was tight and stale.

So this was the Middle.

I followed Rhys through the trees, and the only sound was our footsteps. No birdsong or the snapping of twigs, nothing I was used to hearing in a forest. Just unnatural, ancient stillness.

We stopped before a clearing. A small, whitewashed cottage with a thatched roof and half-crumbling chimney sat in the center. Ordinary—almost mortal. There was even a well, its bucket perched on the stone lip, and a wood pile beneath one of the round windows of the cottage. No sound or light within—not even smoke puffed from the chimney.

I could hear faint, pretty humming coming from the cottage. Soothing, almost mesmerizing—it would have set me at ease if I didn't already know it was coming from the monster within. The sort of thing that might lure quarry into a snare.

But I was not prey. No—I was a huntress. A wolf. It took much more than that to fool me.

I started down the mossy earth path that paved the way to the door and didn't look back once. When I reached the threshold, I could hear her voice through the door. The Weaver's voice was sweet, clear, and beautiful.

“There were two sisters, they went playing, To see their father’s ships come sailing… And when they came unto the sea-brim The elder did push the younger in.”

I'd heard the song before, from humans. It was a favorite of the traveling musicians who sometimes passed through our village. And perhaps…she knew that, and the familiarity was intended to lull me, too.

I stayed perfectly still on the threshold for a long moment, the same freeze-watch-listen pattern I fell into as I hunted in the woods. Along with her voice, I could only hear the clatter of some device. So she was alone, then.

“Sometimes she sank, and sometimes she swam, Til her corpse came to the miller’s dam.”

I raised a hand to knock, but the door swung open on silent hinges, as if she'd rolled out a welcome mat just for me. I didn't move, just peered inside. My chest went tight, and I forced myself to keep my breathing even.

A large main room, with a small, shut door in the back. Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined the walls, crammed with bric-a-brac: books, shells, dolls, herbs, pottery, shoes, crystals, more books, jewels…From the ceiling and wood rafters hung all manner of chains, dead birds, dresses, ribbons, gnarled bits of wood, strands of pearls…

A junk shop—of some immortal hoarder.

I waited to feel power calling out to me, but…nothing happened. Perhaps, as part of the bargain, I'd need to ask her to hand the ring to me directly. If she even remembered where it was.

The Weaver of the Wood herself sat with her back to me. In the gloom of the cottage, I could just make out the ancient, cracked spinning wheel I'd heard along with her singing. In the cottage, it was far too dim to make out the thin white thread she was spinning. Was she blind, like the Wyrm….or could she see in the dark?

My eyes drifted to the soft fiber she was feeding into the wheel. It looked like wool, but some deep-seated instinct in the back of my brain told me it was not. The question wasn't what she was spinning, but who.

The shelf above her head was filled with cones upon cones of thread, and large bolts of woven fabric filled up the space next to her. Mother above, she must have made it from entire cities, whole armies or even nations. A handful of rebel Illyrians suddenly seemed like a pitiful offering.

But I still, I had to try. And if there really were some power for me to detect, perhaps I needed to be a bit closer. Out here, nothing was pulling me towards one object in particular.

As silently as I could, I took a step into the cottage. I froze, waited, breathed. Nothing. I took another, and then the door slammed shut.

The Weaver turned her face toward me.

Above her young, supple body, beneath her black, beautiful hair, her skin was gray—wrinkled and sagging and dry. And where eyes should have gleamed instead lay rotting black pits. Her lips had withered to nothing but deep, dark lines around a hole full of jagged stumps of teeth—like she had gnawed on too many bones.

Her nose—perhaps once pert and pretty, now half-caved in—flared as she sniffed in my direction. "Well met, High Lady."

#feysand #feyre archeron #we said hello and your eyes look like coming home

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