#Snow 2: Brain Freeze

[toshinorimylove90]

Some Christmassy pix of Tom, bc it's the season. ;) Pictures are from Snow/Snow 2, Trading Christmas and The Flash.

I might make another post or so.

@yetanotherwells @autisticharrywells @elfwoodfae

[doki-doki-imagines]

Power of a hug feat mk1 Johnny Cage, Bi-Han, Kenshi Takahashi author note:as my fave memer said "the wettest and most humid kiss is nothing in comparison to the power of an hug". There are other characters that I have in mind with this prompt so I hope the post will go well lol.

tw: Kenshi part is suggestive.

You are used to being alone, you have been for most of your years, and you are sure Johnny would never describe you as clingy. You give him his space, he gives you yours, nice and comfortable. That’s why when he told you about this expedition that was going to take him a long time and far away, you didn’t budge, just kissed him goodbye and told him to come back in one piece.

Okay, the departure wasn’t so blunt, and maybe there weren’t just kisses and maybe you were sobbing while telling him to be safe because you knew that Johnny wasn’t going out for a movie, but this is the gist of it.

And now you are sitting on Johnny’s armchair, wearing his favorite cover, the one dripping off his perfume, reading, trying to get your mind elsewhere while your heart silently shouts in pain, while your brain screams at it to shut up, because you are strong and even if you haven’t heard him for 2 months you shouldn’t miss him so much, because you are independent and yadda yadda; you miss him so much you’d curl up in a hole and get moldy there.

You sit there, ‘till you recognize a familiar sound, “is that Liu Kang voice?” you think, already standing up. There are other voices outside the house, but soon they all fade when you hear one in particular.

It’s Johnny’s one.

You’d like to stay in, wait for him inside nonchalantly walking towards him to greet your boyfriend as elegantly as you can muster.

Outside is snowing and you are wearing shorts (made of wool, but still shorts) and slippers but your mind simply doesn’t work, heart beating freely, pumping blood with new vigor.

“Johnny!” You open the door, freezing air hitting your body with full force, but you feel nothing.

Your legs run toward your boyfriend before your mind perceives your action. He turns around at your voice, and he is so beautiful your legs almost give up…almost.

“Oh-“ You jump in his arms, knocking him a few steps behind, not noticing all the gifts he had to throw on the ground to take you. You sigh in his arms, his strong arms now enveloping your shivering body “Kitty, are you shivering because you missed me?” He jokingly says,

“Yeah, it’s because I missed you so much.”  Your voice breaks, your arms around his neck, legs gripping his waist as tightly as you can.

His hands slid on your thighs, thumbs drawing hearts on your skin, no goose-bumps, he is so warm and you are so full of love that you can’t feel anything else anymore.

Your foreheads kiss, breaths mingling, smiles stuck on both of your faces, warm brown eyes locked into yours.

His friends are long gone, leaving the two lovebirds alone.

He had to leave you there, in a snowstorm in the hands of the enemies, alone. You always have a plan, they always work out that’s why he trusts you so much even if you are a total dumbass.

“Go Bi-Han, don’t worry for me.” Your voice was trembling, you knew that you couldn’t survive and you also knew that he needed to return home alive.

And he follows your order because you are always right and things always go your way. Even when you are against him. Even when you tease him making his ears flush red. You always come up victorius.

Bi-Han stops on his track, snow falling on his shoulders. He can’t breathe. He hates you.

He’d like to sit there and let snow bury him. He can’t, he is Lin Kuei grandmaster whose willpower never waver, and who is headstrong like nobody else. Bi-Han has seen dear ones die in front of his eyes, betray him, this time mustn’t be any different.

Bi-Han feels like crying. You aren’t a fighter, but he wanted to bring you with him because nobody could outsmart you, and your brain was needed for this mission.

What an idiot. He tightens his fists, eyes closed so tight that wrinkles appear at the corners, no punishment would be enough for his mistake, never enough whips, never enough slaps.

He stays there a few more minutes, he couldn’t go back home, not ‘till he won’t be sure tears wouldn’t spill from his eyes.

Then he hears a voice, more like a whine, but it’s something he has heard many times before. Bi-Han starts to run towards the voice, walking much harder with so much snow.

“Told you-“ You are there, sitting on the snow, trembling like a newborn kitty, eyes shining, and with that shit-eating grin of yours “my plans never fail!” He crouches down towards you, he must be going crazy, his index and middle fingers pinch your cheek.

“Ouch! Why did you do that?” You are there, real, talking to him like you didn’t say goodbye to him a few minutes prior. He sits next to you, onyx eyes wide.

“You are alive” He is able to say, voice hoarse as always, mask reducing the sound to a mere whisper.

“Yeah, I would have never let anyone take my life, they have to get in line you know? Since you were the first one to promise me you were going to-“

Bi-Han doesn’t let you finish the phrase, his arms hugging your torso so close and so strongly against his body that he knocks air out of your lungs.

“I was so worried.” His right hand grips the back of your head, holding it in the nook of his neck. His voice trembles and he feels you stilling in his arms. He can feel your warm breath on his neck, your chest rising up and down at each breath you take; you are alive.

He almost lost you.

You free your head from his grip, thin ice on your hair like a veil made by his unrestrained magic, your hands now slowly removing his mask, showing you his trembling lips, you look at his eyes, he knows they are watery, his vision is foggy. Then your delicate fingers grip the collar of his uniform, your lips pressing for the first time against his.

It is a short moment, Bi-Han closes his eyes, and when he opens them your lips aren’t there anymore, but he still feels something warm; your arms reciprocating the hug.

It is suffocating but at the same time makes him feel alive, a warmth that envelops him entirely, that makes his heart run like a wild horse, but that puts his mind at ease; he is safe, you are too in his arms.

He couldn’t ask for more.

“K-Kenshi-“ You gasp, your hips grinding onto his, his tattoed hands running from your chest to your tummy, never resting, never letting you go.

He missed you. Kenshi missed you terribly. It wasn’t just sex, as good as it is, he missed your voice, your hands in his ones, your gentle lips on his cheeks. He missed hearing you talking about your day, about that terrible co-worker. He missed hearing your laughter and your hands massaging his scalp when he felt particularly stressed.

A moan dies in his throat after a delicious roll of your hips. Yeah, he missed this too.

You are close he can feel it and he is not far behind, but there is still something he desperately needs to do.

He lifts up, sitting now, his arms around your waist, hands on your lower back, both guiding your movements and keeping you close to his chest.

“I missed you so much-“ A whimper leaves his mouth, he can feel your lips so close to his, your breath labored, your body so close creates a delicious friction that just makes his mind fog even more.

“Me too, me too-“ You hug him back, your arms tight against his back, nails scratching his back while he helps you both reach completion.

You keep each other close, breaths still heavy, bodies sweaty.

“I missed you so much.” You are the first one to break the silence, Kenshi notices a hint of sadness.

Hint that became something more when the hand caressing your cheek meets a tear. The pang he feels in his heart hurts so much, but he also knows it is deserved.

“Me too honey, me too.” His right hand massages the back of your head, while the other traces heart-shaped patterns on your back.

Kenshi doesn’t let go, now laying on your shared bed, you on top of him. He can’t see your face, but losing sight made him more sensible, noticing every gasp leaving your lips, every twitch of your muscles.

He restrains himself, he can’t cry, but every gasp that leaves your lips is like a stab in his chest, each tear pulling your body closer, your hearts beating in synchronized sorrow.

But Kenshi can’t tell you that next time it will be different. He can’t reassure you that he will be safe.

He keeps you close to his chest ‘till he feels your breath slowing down, now stable. Kenshi keeps caressing your back, feeling his muscles relax, exhaustion washing over him too.

Kenshi soon falls asleep, wishing to still have you in his arms when he’ll regain consciousness the next morning.

[storywriter007]

do you do requests? if you do, can you do Leo x fem reader who is the daughter of Khione, she has ice powers and she has a very friendly, cheerful demeanor and is genuinely kind tends to smile a lot of the times although it does comes off as creepy sometimes, the reason why the reader smiles a lot is because just like Leo as a way of coping with her mommy issues and doesn't want people to worry

Fire & Ice - Leo Valdez x Fem!Reader

author's note: i do take requests :) and this is such a cute idea! like fire and ice, polar opposites, but they end up being the exact same. thank you for the request!

author's note 2: i didn't know if you wanted this to be fluff or angst, so i kinda did both (please send me more angst im internally dying writing all of this joy)

warnings: slight bullying, mommy issues, cursing

genre: angst ending in fluff

word count: 1.9k

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

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send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

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y/n gently braided the curly hair in front of her. she put a little elastic towards the end of the braid, and leaned back. it looked wonderful. beautiful brown curls cascaded down like a waterfall, and two cute little braids were at the top of the head.

"all done lay!" she smiled.

"you look beautiful," she said, holding up a mirror for the girl to see.

"thank you so much y/n! i loooove it!" she beamed, giving y/n a big hug.

"of course!"

she ran off, and y/n began cleaning up.

"surprised you didn't give the kid a brain freeze." a familiar voice laughed.

"nice to see you too, valdez." she rolled her eyes.

leo's smile died out whenever he saw y/n, and y/n's kindness turned into cruelty whenever she saw him. they didn't get along; not in the least. leo was a fire-producing maniac, and y/n was a snow-summoning psycho. their rivalry started when y/n was ice skating on the lake (after turning part of it into ice) and leo came up and set it on fire. y/n would've drowned if she didn't quickly skate away and create ice until she got to the grass. after that, y/n froze one of his favorite machines, and he spent days trying to melt all the ice off. they'd had it out for each other for two summers - ever since leo found out she was the daughter of khione.

leo was loud. annoying. funny on occasion. y/n was soft spoken. kind. caring. fire and ice. they were far too different.

"don't you have something to blow up?" she asked, meeting his brown eyes.

"yeah." he said, looking over at her cabin. "elsa's castle."

"i swear to god, i'm going to-"

"turn me into a rocket pop?" he grinned.

"i'm gonna freeze your bed. have fun sleeping outside for the week." she said, staring him down.

"that'll make two of us."

they both stormed away. gods, she couldn't stand him.

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evening struck, and as y/n made her way to the mess hall, she saw a little boy sitting all alone on a fallen tree. he had curly blonde hair. he was wearing a blue t-shirt and beige cargo shorts. he looked no older than twelve. he sat quietly, his face resting on his right hand. he looked upset.

"y/n, c'mon." one of her friends said.

"you guys go, i'll be with you in a few."

she made her way over to the little boy.

"can i sit here?" she asked.

"yeah." he said glumly, moving over.

"what's your name?"

"daniel." he said, not looking at her.

"tough first week, daniel?" she asked.

he nodded his head. new campers came in everyday, and it didn't get easier for any half-blood who stepped in the magical boundaries.

"it's alright." she reassured. "the first week is always the worst week."

"i've got no friends." he said shakily. "no one wants to talk to me."

he finally looked up and met y/n's gaze. she could see the scattered freckles on his face and the tears that were welled up in his light green eyes.

"what about your siblings?"

her voice was soft and calming.

"they don't wanna talk to me either." he said, defeated.

"i know." she sighed. "it's tough being new. but, uh, tell me dan, what do you like to do?"

"i-i like to draw." he said.

"that's so cool! i can only draw a stick figure, dear gods. what do you like to draw?"

"mostly nature and stuff. i draw a lot of animals and landscapes." he said, his tone picking up a little bit. "i have a sketchbook, if y-you want to see.."

his voice trailed off.

"i'd be delighted." she smiled.

the boy's eyes lit up as he rushed off and quickly came back with a sketchbook. he showed her all of his drawings and where he had drawn them. they were absolutely beautiful. they continued talking about the drawings, and daniel told y/n about all of the parks, lakes, and mountains he'd visited before arriving at camp. she could see he was feeling a lot better.

"don't you want to go to the mess hall?" y/n asked him. "get somethin' to eat?

"my siblings don't like it when i sit with them." he sighed.

"who said you have to sit with them?" she laughed. "sit with me. c'mon kid."

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after walking daniel to the ares cabin, y/n turned around and rushed to the camp headquarters for a counselor's meeting. she wasn't looking forward to seeing leo. as she walked into the very informal meeting room, his first remark was made.

"someone's late." he coughed.

the other counselors turned to look at her.

suck my dick is what she wanted to say.

"one of the kids wanted me to walk them back. that's kinda what happens when the younger campers actually trust you." she smiled, passive-aggresively.

"hey, they trust me!" he defended. "they love me."

"first you lie about your height, and now how much the kids like you?"

the crowd of counselors started laughing.

"don't encourage her guys." he said, so seriously that the crowd quit laughing. "she's gonna start singing 'let it go!'"

giggles and laughs burst out from every corner of the room as y/n felt her cheeks grow warm.

"c'mon johnny storm." she paused. "give them a real show and sing 'this boy is on fire,' won't you?"

he glared at her as more laughs erupted from the counselors. to them, it was all in good fun. to leo and y/n, it was the continuation of a war. just as leo was about to holler another snappy insult, their verbal sparring was interrupted.

"enough." chiron said, entering the room. "i've had it with you two."

the room stood quiet.

"yeah, y/n, pack up your shit." he snickered.

"i'm sorry for the constant misconduct." she smiled, trying to repair the damage. "i could fix it, if you'd let me turn valdez into a statue for my ice castle."

laughs erupted from more of their banter.

"go clean the stables." he ordered. "both of you, together. come back to your cabins once you've become friends."

"there's no way that me and evil frosty are gonna get along." leo protested. "we're gonna be there forever!"

shut up y/n wanted to yell. he was just making things worse.

"then i suggest you ask mr. jackson to teach you how to speak horse." chiron said firmly.

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y/n cleaned the stables while leo swept the floor.

"leo, could you pass me that-"

"no."

they had been here for four hours and leo had refused to cooperate. she was at the end of her rope with him.

"why do you hate me?" she asked, exasperated.

she'd wondered this ever since they'd got here. she assumed it's because ice and fire don't get along, but everyone at camp assured her leo would never hate anyone over something they couldn't control. especially, godly heritage.

"you got us stuck here!" he argued.

"you started it!" she countered.

their voices slowly rose as they yelled at one-another.

"you were late!" he continued. "and besides, i might've started it, but you ended it!"

"you started things with me from the first day i got here two summers ago! you tried to burn me alive! you threated to blow my cabin up! why!?" she asked loudly.

she was tired. she was sore. and she was sick of leo always being a douchebag.

"your mom tried to kill me!" he yelled.

"she tried to kill me too!"

"what?" he asked, his gaze softening and his voice lowering.

"nothing." y/n said, realizing what she'd just said. "nothing, just forget about it."

"y/n-"

"go to bed." she demanded. "i'll finish this by myself. not like you were doing anything anyways."

"you can trust me." he insisted. "please?"

"make whatever snide remark you were going to, and leave."

"please, y/n." he said, his voice low and steady. "what happened?"

"i was nine, and uh, my mother had decided she was done with me. she tried to freeze me, and uh, then she tried to stab me." she paused to say the next part. "and when none of that work, she uh-she tried to burn me."

"i'm so sorry."

"don't worry about it." she said, quickly plastering a smile on her face. "now it's your turn to answer my question. why do you hate me?"

"i-i don't. i never have." he sighed. "i figured you'd end up hating me regardless, so i just sealed our fate."

they stood in the silence of the stables.

"you started a fight with my because you assumed i would automatically dislike you? because you can summon fire?" y/n asked, it being her turn to be shocked now.

"yeah." he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "i thought you'd be some cold, icy, pessimistic bitch.

"ouch."

"until i saw you. how much you cared, and how much you smiled, and how much you made other people feel better. by the time, i realized you weren't what i had made of you, it was too late to turn back."

"leo." she said, unable to speak. "i care about people regardless. i would've never had a vendetta against you because you're a mini human torch. and even though you were convinced i hated you, i never did. i just played along."

"liar." he chuckled.

"when you passed out from exhaustion for forty-eight hours, do you know who monitored you each and every second? do you know who constructed your diet and recovery plan? do you remember the fuzzy voice telling you everything was going to be okay? because that was me."

"why?" he asked. "why are you so nice?

"i just want someone to stay."

they started at each-other for a moment. leo used humor and jokes to cover up the pain he felt. y/n used compensating kindness. they didn't want people to leave them, so they found something that would make them valuable: witty remarks and selflessness. they both covered up their profound pain and self-hatred with a form of fake happiness. they both had constructed a person who is only upset when no one is watching. and it was all because both of them didn't want people to worry, they just wanted them to stay.

"i feel the same way." he shared.

they weren't as different as they thought they were.

"i'm sorry." he said, sincerity in his eyes. "i misjudged you."

"i'm sorry too." she responded. "i held up my end of the bargain, didn't i?"

"i guess fire and ice aren't polar opposites after all." he smiled.

"i think they're identical." she agreed, reaching her hand out.

they shook hands, but didn't let go. leo's grip was firm on her hand. they looked into each other's eyes. leo pulled her in and pressed his lips to hers. his rough hands wrapped around her waist, as hers roamed his face and neck. it wasn't a needy kiss, it wasn't a passionate kiss, it was a "i'm glad you're here" kiss. leo felt her cold fingers move around his neck. it felt refreshing. y/n felt his warm hands around her waist. it felt comforting. after a few seconds, they pulled away, and laughed a little. y/n put her head on his shoulder as he held her tight.

[harfanfare]

If that's okay could i request it for Epel?

How to win the heart of Epel Felmier?

a/n: Thank you for requesting~~ Dear Readers, while I am not a native English speaker, I wrote this ff in the English-pronounciation (?) mindset that “Epel” and “Apple” sound very similar. If it’s not all that similar, may Reader be too obsessed with apples to have that selective hearing when it comes to Epel’s name or let’s blame it on the Harveston’s dialect, haha

Be a zealous apple lover.

You envy this boy’s name.

“Apple”? What a majestic word to be named after. The first time you’ve heard a woman calling someone like that, you remember stilling in place and whooping your head at a ten-year-old boy who yelled that he was coming.

And he… doesn’t look like an apple. Maybe you weren’t expecting a walking apple, nor a boy with red hair dressed in all browns, carrying a big basket of apples (and of course, eating one in the other hand) like a character created for a show whose audience is a tad younger than you, but none of the apples you know turn purple.

Never have you imagined someone with such a beautiful name would move so wobbly in snow, the sledge he dragged behind definitely too heavy.

The realization of how unfitting this name was makes you lose a grip on the basket of fabric you got from one of your new neighbours. Well, everyone here is “new” if you just came into this little village just three days ago.

That boy notices you. He must have heard the news because a flash of recognition paints itself on his face. You didn’t return a shy smile at the staring, even if you wanted to. You remember your cheeks prickling from the freezing wind when you bolted home as the apple boy looked like he wanted to say something.

“He doesn’t look like an apple,” you argue with your mother that night, as she kisses your temple goodnight.

“Maybe not. But I would have loved you two to be friends…” Your mother stops in her words as you roll your eyes at her and pout with all your might. She suppresses a laugh that you would take to your heart. “…But, maybe I should be glad he doesn’t resemble an apple at all? You would have fallen head over heels in love with him if he did.”

Yeah, your mother doesn’t need to look so happy as you grew agitated.

“I wouldn’t!” You protest loudly and bury yourself deeper into bed sheets even if your face grows hotter. Maybe of the embarrassment, maybe of the fury, but surely not because of the boy. “I would never fall in love with a boy like him. And I don’t want you to talk about this to anyone!”

You remember your mother’s eyes twinkling with utter amusement. “Yes, yes, all right.”

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2. Challenge Apple to a sled race.

Maybe it’s the fault of far too many action films being aired on TV, yet the idea of being able to win anything a fight was stuck in your head.

Some limited part of your brain thought that, hm, Apple might just give up his name to you if you won in this town’s most famous activity: the Harveston’s Sled Race. It seemed only appropriate for you to pick something the boy must know, even if you had only got your first sledge barely two weeks ago.

“Ya… want my name?” Apple blinks as you grow irate when you repeat your offer once again. You remember rolling your eyes ostentatiously at him, and Apple huffing loudly at you. “What does it even mean, duh?”

He crosses his arms and glared at you. He has the advantage of being just a little bit taller than you, but thankfully, his The-Great-Seven-Better-Bless-Her grandmother never ceases to dress him in fluffy, puffy clothes, always in pastel colours; the cute pompom on top of his beanie and shawl in the adorable pink shade made him much less imposing.

“Whoever wins in this sledge race will be called Apple,” you repeat. Apple squints his eyes at you. “I like this name so much, you have no idea. Please give it up to me.”

“Oh.”

You have no idea why his face slowly turned red. If you knew better, you would have used this opportunity to tease him, but little you didn’t want to mock a newly met boy, even if you just threw down a gauntlet for his name.

“It’s a normal name….” He mutters, and before you can protest, he draws his eyes to you, somehow redeeming you speechless. “…But I’ll challenge you if that’s what you wanna do.”

Huh. You weren’t expecting him to agree so easily.

…Nor were you expecting him to glide on the snow with his sledge. He looked frail enough to not care about things like rides and thought that it would give you the advantage. It did not. Apple flew or used magic, or illusions because he rode so fast the snow beneath him barely left a trace.

That was some cool skill, even if you hated how awed you were.

It seems like you challenged the wrong boy because this one wins with ease.

“Sorry,” he says with flushed cheeks, and his deep breaths create little warm clouds in freezing air. He lays on the snow, and his fringe sticks to his forehead. He has won, and it was a tough victory yet a well-earned one. “I will still be the only Epel in this town.” He shifts his gaze on you. “So. What’s your name?”

Well, he is a (treacherous) winner. You give your name to him.

He smiles slightly, he repeats it slowly and goes quiet. You look over to see him open his eyes from reverie and bright lights dance in his eyes.

“It’s nice. I think it suits you well.”

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3. Have some baking skills.

“Epel, dear. We’ll be having our little neighbour helping us this year’s festival, so please show how responsible can you be and teach [Name] how to prepare apples for the pies.”

Ugh. If only Grandma Marja wasn’t so kind, you would have been protesting more.

Apple looks at you and you frown slightly as he sighs at your sight.

“You again?”

And because Grandma Marja already left, you feel free to announce your displeasure with the situation as well. Sadly, there are no other kids your age in this village, so you are probably bound to accompany him for the rest of your whole life here as he’s your only peer.

“Unfortunately.”

Apple hands you an apron, before ordering you to wash your hands. Because the kitchen island is too occupied with other dishes and too high for any of you without a stool, you take a seat next to a coffee table that was impractically set between the salon and kitchen, leaving just enough space to create a narrow route from one room to another.

“Have you ever baked an apple pie before?” He asks and you shake your head. His brows furrow slightly as he thinks whether you will be a help here at all. “So, it will be a long day…”

He better not write you off before you can even start.

You cross your arms. “Test me first, complain later... if ever.”

“I’m not complaining. But we have a knife and a peeler. Oh, and it hurts if you get cut. You should take it slowly and be careful,” he adds and hops to the other room to grab a basket full of apples. He lays it between you two.

Apple doesn’t let you use a knife.

“I am older than you,” he says and takes an apple from you to cut it into even pieces. You don’t notice the skill he has to make careful cuts precise and clean, as you glare at him.

“Barely.”

The few-month gap in your age isn’t enough to stop you from insisting that you can do more complicated things than just peeling apples. That’s some arduous work, especially when the peeler doesn’t cooperate and the thin fruit’s skin gets stuck between the blades.

So, Apple, who couldn’t contain that last annoyed sigh, finally lends you a knife. He instructs you, but after several times that you tell him you know what are you doing, he hesitantly goes back to his work. You could feel a worried gaze at you nonetheless, and at one time you looked over your shoulder to see him staring at you.

And that’s when the knife slips from your hands.

You don’t scream, but a gasp and a sudden flinch gives you away.

“Aaaand that’s what I was saying,” he immediately drops the apple he was taking care of, and stands next to you, scrutinizing the cut. It’s not bigger than a paper cut, yet it’s a bit deeper and stings as much. You quickly hide your hands from him. “Go take your hand under the cold water. I will get some bandages.”

He gets some. He then orders you—” I am the older one here and I was right before, so I am in charge between us two,” as you were told—to sit on the sofa as he carefully wraps one bandage around your finger. The gesture it’s almost cute from him, but it doesn’t lift your foul mood at all.

“I made more trouble than I’ve helped,” you say quietly. Epel looks at you, a bit surprised.

“You sayin’ that this little cut is making you quit?” And now he has that stupid smile on his lips that makes your blood not boil, but warm up at least five degrees. “Awh, poor thing.”

You get up in a hurry.

“…I didn’t say that.”

“Then don’t give up like that,” he chastises you, but he can’t hide a (still very stupid) smile when you pass him to get to the kitchen counter. “But be more careful from now. No one wants to eat a bloody apple pie.”

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4. Get into NRC and survive a shock.

Over the years, you’ve become friends, close enough to plan to go to college together, if the opportunity arises. It did.

“Cheers!”

The perfect way to celebrate getting into NRC is with a soft drink, sparkling soda and a big plate of snacks. Although you bought chips for the occasion, your and Apple’s parents prepared a pile of homemade goodies and they couldn’t compare to those store-bought.

Your can clinks against Apple’s and you take a sip.

“It’s not like I ever thought of Night Raven Collage rejecting the best candidates ever,” Apple says with a sigh. Only today you can notice how stiff he was before; although he’d been playing it cool, he was tense all the time. “But that’s one burden off your chest.”

You nod in agreement and look at the acceptance papers once again. When a time will come, carriages with Gates will come for you two… And that’s a thrilling thought.

“This document looks so official,” you say. “What a pretty paper. It looks so elegant.”

Apple empties his can and briefly glances at you.

“Nothin’ special about it…”

And because you want to see the comparison (maybe there are hidden hints where you might be allocated to by the Dark Mirror?), you take his document. The first thing that crosses your mind, is that there is something wrong with his name.

“Wait,” you shriek loudly, and Apple shudders from surprise. He would chastise you for screaming so loud if you didn’t look so worried. “They spelled your name wrong!”

“Huh?” Apple feels a pang of horror, the same you feel when you tap your pockets in search of your phone. As if he found it, once he reads the top of the document again, he relaxes. His lips form into a thin line: he thinks you are pranking him. “No way. Everything is correct.”

“No, look here. Your name, Apple!”

“It’s… Correct.”

“E- P- E- L. And your name is A- P- P- L- E, no?”

“…What?” Epel, not Apple, looks surprised but not as surprised as you. “You thought my name was ‘Apple’ for all those years?!”

You bite your lip to not question it. Is it not? Your cheeks burn from embarrassment, and your heart feels heavy as if you have just betrayed your best friend. It never crossed your mind to have him write down his name, and there wasn’t a reason for him to do so: in this small town there is no school, neither are there the tests you need to sign.

“…I’m sorry.” You stutter, and Epel brushes the crumbs off from his blouse and gets up.

“Goodbye,” he says, making his way towards the door. He doesn’t seem that upset over the whole thing, as much as confused. Tomorrow everything will return to normality, but Epel will have a top-tier teasing material for years. “That’s too many revelations for today.”

“Wait, Epel!”

“Go to ya Apple boy.”

“No!! I said I’m sorry!”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

5. Get sorted into any dorm but Pomefiore.

“Stop laughing.”

“I can’t…! Ha…”

You take a big breath to calm yourself down, but once you look up at Epel and his grimace, it’s impossible to not burst out laughing so loud and so breath-taking you drop to the floor. Epel nudges you. You might be in his room, yet he knows if he’ll be too loud, someone will come to shush you two.

And maybe they will punish him, but Epel isn’t familiar with Pomefiore’s customs, so he doesn’t know what to expect.

“How come you got sorted into another dorm, while we are practically the same?” Epel mumbles, lying down on his bed. The sheets are heavy yet comfortable, luxurious like the whole room. It feels like a museum here, where each item is more valuable than your life and you need permission to rearrange the interior.

To Epel, Pomefiore is the worst dorm. He remembers you teasing him about getting sorted to Pomefiore, but neither of you thought it would come true. It’s too stiff, too restrictive and cares too much about appearances. Epel’s heart feels heavy at the thought of the next four years here.

“Maybe Dark Mirror doesn’t sort the dorm judging by the alikeness of two last brain cells but the shape and colour of the soul,” you nudge him back, waking him up from his reverie.

“Or maybe it didn’t get any input of brain cells from you.”

“Well, your desire to be the prettiest boy in the town got to it, so I think it functions well.”

You chuckle at the dead glare he throws you.

Epel finally sighs.

“…I would like to change the dorms.”

“I don't know whether the Dark Mirror accepts complaints,” you tease him. The gloom is abruptly replaced by irritation, and that’s nice. An angry Epel is better than a devastated Epel. “But if you ever want to escape for a while, you are welcome in my room. We can have a sleepover whenever you want.”

“…Thank you.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5.5. Sorted into Pomefiore exception.

“You ain’t elegant at all, though.”

“It seems like my elegance bleaks in comparison to yours, pretty boy.”

“You are blind.”

Epel tries to push you away, but you sidestep while giggling. He glares at you, and thankfully, his eyes don’t seem that sad. When he returned to his seat after getting sorted to Pomefiore, he looked bewildered, as if he suddenly wasn’t in the NRC he dreamed of but some other, less-dreamlike school.

You remember him blinking back tears, but maybe not from sadness—thankfully, Epel doesn’t pity himself—but melancholy, as if he just lost something he didn’t even have. Maybe also fury and confusion.

“It will be fun to stay here together,” you prompt, and Epel sighs but a trace of a smile appears on his lips. Thank Great Sevens for the little lights that brighten the azure tones in his eyes.

“Guess I’m stuck being your neighbour forever.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“No?”

“Of course not. You already know how great friend I can be.”

“…I guess you’re right,” he sticks out his tongue. Vil will have a lot of work if he wants to make him a fine gentleman. Well. You will take any version of Epel, even the pettiest and most teasing one, so it’s Vil’s burden to bear. “Kind of.”

You pout at him, but a quiet smile breaks your coolness. “So petty.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6. Listen to your manly man complain about Vil.

After several weeks in NRC, you could tell Epel still hasn’t gotten used to Pomefiore, and especially its leader.

“I can’t handle him pointing out each… well, everything!” He hides his face in his hands and sluggishly rubs his eyes; he looks tired enough even if Pomefiore must have those eight hours of sleep every night mandatory. “He would find wrongdoings in the way I breathe.”

“I would too. You don’t breathe as much through your nose as you think you do. That’s so very unhealthy, Epel. Your skin will be ruined in the next week of running.”

Epel throws you a warning look as if you had hit the nail with your talk. “Stop or I will strangle you with a pillow in your sleep. I already have Ace on my list.”

You chuckle at a threat, and Epel rolls his eyes. “How dramatic.”

“I have enough drama in my life,” he continues, and you can feel from his tone that he either suppresses the sigh. No apathy or fury anymore, though. Pomefiore must be slowly growing on him, and you take it as a good sign. “My two upperclassmen are going to be a death of me. I don’t know how could I end up in Pomefiore. This kind of lifestyle doesn’t suit me.”

“You complain about them a lot, but, in reality, you look up to him, no?” You tease. “Even you can say the beauty he possesses is influential and somewhat powerful.”

“He might look majestically but it doesn’t make him any less annoying. Now, let’s stop talking about him.”

“Why not? I might become Vil Schoenheit’s fan.”

He clasps his hands on your mouth, so you have to fully focus on his glaring.

“You can’t. You are my fan.”

You pout but after he takes his hands off you, a lopsided smile cracks your lips. “I guess you’re right.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7. Argue, duh.

That’s a hobby of you two, although a risky one. It always leaves a weight on your heart, because you cannot not care for Epel. While jokes and sarcasm are never intended to hurt any of you, and you can almost always distance yourself from teasing comments, his every word is precious to you.

“Don’t be a killjoy,” would make you roll your eyes if Epel didn’t look so serious. Your smile falters, and something in your stomach twists. You know this conversation was going to end in an argument even before he glowered at you.

“Hey, don’t say it like that,” you stutter the words, placing a hand on his arm. It would come as a reassuring gesture, yet Epel made an effort to move a seat away, and your arm fell aimlessly, sadly. “I am just worried about our grades. That have. Uh. Dropped marginally.”

You stare at your shoes because listening to your best friend being displeased with you so greatly is heartbreaking.

“We have the whole weekend ahead of us to study,” he argued. “Be serious. You don’t want me to go, because you weren’t invited, isn’t that so?”

You sigh. You’ve never expected to be invited to each of their meetings: they are Epel’s friends, and you have yours.

While you knew Ace and Deuce were delightful company, you always thought Epel would choose you over them, even if you suggested something as unentertaining as studying because you would do the same.

You were wrong, after all. Maybe that’s the difference of willpower between a just-a-friends mindset and having a crush on him. Do you really have a crush on him, though? Or maybe you’ve expected too much from a childhood friendship.

“Well, no. I mean, I would love to be invited, but—”

“We don’t need to hang out together every time we have a spare afternoon,” he said, and while it was a true statement, it hurt. If you weren’t able to somehow steel your nerves, you would know you wouldn’t be able to bear the prickling in your eyes. Epel’s next suggestion comes as a whisper. “Sometimes… We should take a break from each other, ya know? And I need to figure, uh, something out.”

The news shocks you so much, that you don’t notice how he visibly abstains from lifting a hand to his chest.

Well. You always knew you were a hopeless romantic.

“Breaks from each other, huh…”

You take in the phrase in silence. Epel takes this chance as an opportunity to gather his things and pack them.

“…I’ll be leaving. Good luck studying or whatever.”

“…Alright. Have—” fun, you wanted to say, but the door shut and Epel left you alone.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8. Go through the silent treatment phase.

After a week of awkward conversations, Epel has forgotten about that talk. The pain in your chest dulled and you were growing indifferent as if you were watching a show—your life—that started to bore you, not engaging you at all.

You stared blankly at the screen of your phone.

— today —

Epel: Hey

Epel: are u free todya?? you’ve been so absent last weeks >:((

Epel: Grim and prefect invited us for gaming night

Epel: dont ya DARE do skip it again

— seen: now —

…Yeah. You feel nothing, maybe only a little sad at the memory when you felt so vivid and happy when you got a message from Epel.

“No, sorry, I am busy with studying lol,” you type, and while you know that excuse will wear out in the next few days, for as much as you’ve been using it for the last week to avoid hanging out with Epel, your (ex-?) best friend starts to type something. He will protest and argue and try to convince you, but you don’t want to talk today. “Maybe next time.”

So you turn off your phone, sinking deeper into the pillows on your bed.

You don’t have the energy to confront Epel right now.

And that’s it.

…

You fell into a slumber deep enough to not hear the hesitant-turned-frantic knocking to your room.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9. Let Epel hear the advice of unreliable gurus of love.

They are really unreliable, look messy, and they judge you. The worst kind of people to go for (love?) advice, but Epel assures himself that he needs honesty, not a pat on his back or a shoulder to cry on. He also is out of other options.

Moreover, he would like to cry nowhere near Ace, who would obviously mock him. Even now it’s hard to have a heart-to-heart conversation when he and Deuce chomp on some type of dessert and some awfully happy music from videogame plays in the back of the room. “So? What did you do?”

“Ace,” Deuce is kind enough to elbow Ace in the stomach when Epel’s stoic expression falters.

His shoulders drop. “No, he… He is kinda right.”

Ace throws a winning smile but moves too far away from Deuce to have him punch him for the cheekiness. “’ Kinda’?”

“…Totally right,” Epel finally admits. “[Name] has been avoiding me and I have no idea what should I do,” He throws his arms on the table, and almost hides his face in the palms of his hands. Instead, he moves away the strands of his unruly hair. “Ugh. Why I am even asking you guys to help me? You’re even worse at this kind of thing.”

“Speak for yourself. And Deuce,” Ace cuts him off. And before Deuce can do anything else than glare at him, Ace shifts closer to Epel and throws an arm over his shoulder so he has to hunch. “Epel, question: what is “this kind of thing”. You mean… as in friendships or dating?”

Deuce looks shocked, even so more than Epel. “Dating?!”

“Why are you even so shocked?” Ace asks him, furrowing his eyebrows. When Deuce starts to ponder over his words, he rolls his eyes. “[Name] probably have had a crush on this imbecile”— he points his fork at Epel—” for damn years now, if I had to guess”.

“Years?!”

“Thank you for the dramatic echo effect again, Deuce,” Ace snarls and finally focuses on Epel. Too distracted with a bickering between his friends, his spirits lift up a little. “And you, Epel. Pull yourself together. Do you want to sever the relationship? Do nothing. Do you want to be friends? Apologize to [Name] and try to patch the bond. Do you want to be in a relationship? …Welp, figure out that for yourself.”

…

“Amazing advice, Ace,” Deuce claps his hands theatrically.

He sticks out his tongue and winks. “You could never give a better one.”

Epel gets up from his seat.

“Thanks, you two. I… will do something.”

“Good luck,” Ace waves at him as Epel makes his way over to the door. “If it works out, you owe us a free drink. Especially me.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10. Have Epel fight for your love!!

It’s hard to find someone when the person knows your schedule and actively tries to avoid you. Choosing more roundabout corridors and sacrificing your wallet to have most of your meals in Monstro Longue instead of the cafeteria are only some of the things you did to avoid encountering Epel.

But he didn’t give up, and maybe his tenacity is what makes you oblige Epel once he finds you.

You don’t question him when he grabs your hand and asks you to skip the last lesson with him that feels almost unimportant as his intertwined fingers warm yours. You don’t comment on how his grip is stronger than usual and how he doesn’t let it go when your hands begin to sweat.

But as you leave the main building of NRC, the curiosity gets the better of you.

“Where are we heading to?”

Epel looks over his shoulder to blink at you. “I…,” he stammers, as confused enough to leave you wondering what is your final destination. Or what was your final destination, Epel seems to have forgotten whatever plan he had in mind. “I guess it can be here.”

He ushers you into one of the side alleys, a bit distanced from the main street and sits you down on a bench. You eye him curiously as he slowly lifts his hands to your face—and that is the first time he let go of your hand—and cupped your cheeks.

“Let me be clear. I- really like you,” he said loudly, gazing into your eyes. “And I know I… overreacted earlier. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to avoid me.”

You breathe out slowly. The heat from the “I really like you” moment prickles and makes your face hotter. It doesn’t help that Epel doesn’t shift his gaze from you nor that he has his hands firmly on your cheekbones as he awaits your answer.

“I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t have been getting between you and your friends.”

Epel eyes you, bewildered. “Why are you focusing on that part?”

“Huh?”

“Ah. Maybe… I will phrase it differently,” He hesitates and his tone wavers, but he says the words without a stutter, as if he’s been practising them in front of the mirror, effectively. “I love you.”

“And I- I want to be friends even if you don’t feel the same.” He rushes with an explanation when you don’t answer as your mind goes blank. “Because. I don’t want you to… avoid me anymore. A-actually, you don’t have to rush with your answer. Just, decide, someday, in the near future, haha? I will wait.”

He glances at you and you know he won’t be able to bear long without hearing your answer. As he rushes past you, you think you heard a hushed whisper.

“Dear Sevens, I said it…!”

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Trying To Derail My One Track Mind

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Part 1 Masterlist

Word Count: 3,225

Summary: Part 2/2 Life was simple, till you met your boss.

Warnings: 18+, smut, cheating on a significant other, oral f and m receiving, bondage, p in v.

You hadn’t slept that good in ages, that’s all you can think as you rise from your side of the bed. Stretching your arms above your head, then reaching for your phone, you must’ve woken up before your alarm, you do that all the time.

When you check the time your heart jumps from your chest. It’s 10:30, the guest would be ready for their hangover bloody mary’s any second. You know you turned your alarm on before you went to sleep. You turn around to see Bucky still sleeping. You roll your eyes, rich people.

You try to leave without raising him from sleep, but you’re not so lucky. He rolls towards you and it’s only now you see that he had no shirt on. Weird since it was freezing in the room, you could see snow building up on the window sills. Your eyes linger on him for a moment too long, “Like what you see?” He bares his teeth to you in a wide smile.

You avert your eyes, a blush covering your whole face. “I’m so sorry, excuse me.”. You grab your phone from the nightstand and try to leave. He grabs your hand, “It’s okay, you don’t have to go.” His eyes bore into yours.

You were starting to understand what you thought before, his eyes make girls act like fools. With bated breath you pull your hand away, “I don’t think my fiancé would appreciate this, I have to go.”. You didn’t stand up to leave. You found your body ignoring your brain. You couldn’t look away from him, and he knew it.

Bucky sits up in bed, letting the blanket fall down to expose his naked upper half. Again, your body is doing things you can’t stop. Your eyes follow the toned curves of his chest down to the valleys created by his hipbones. “I don’t think your fiancé would appreciate a lot of things. Good thing I’m not inclined to care.” Something about the way he said that broke the trance his body has on you.

“I gotta get to work.” You say, putting yourself on that trusty autopilot that gets you through most days at work. You finally take your turn to leave without waiting for a response. It felt good, too good, like you could hold your head a little higher for getting by with it. The guests ate a quick breakfast before all departing, you looked out of the kitchen window as you scrubbed oats from the antique ceramic.

It snowed a lot more than forecasted. The fields behind the house were almost unrecognizable in a blanket of snow. You lean closer to the cold glass, looking towards your car, it was completely buried. You promised that you’d be home early tonight for new years dinner at your in laws house. If the snow didn’t let up soon, you’d never get home.

On days with no guests you do most of your management work. Taking inventory, ordering deliveries, making a new schedule for your cooks. It takes the longest time out of anything you do at the manor. It’s 6 when you get off the phone with the trucking company that delivers the food, they won’t be able to make it till after the weekend, when the snow clears up.

You finally leave the break room, since there’s no windows you couldn’t tell how dark it was getting. You go to the back door to check and see if your car was gonna make it out of the driveway, but the door was blocked by snow, it wouldn’t budge.

You let out a huff and it causes a cloud to appear infront of you. It was freezing in this old house, if you weren’t in a room with a fireplace you were out of luck. You search through every room till you find one burning. You close the library door behind you, not wanting to let the heat out. You see Bucky sitting at the desk, reading over files for something.

“Mind if I join you?” You wouldn’t have asked, but you were still operating on autopilot. You knew he didn’t mind one bit that you were in his presence. You curl up on the couch beside the fireplace, back facing the rest of the room. “It’s not looking good out there.” He says, you could hear the amusement in his tone.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll even make it out of here when my shift ends.” You don’t look at him, but can tell he’s smiling when he says “Oh no.”. You roll your eyes because you know he can’t see you. You take notice when he joins you infront of the fire.

“Another night at the manor, I’m gonna have to start charging you.” He says, kicking his feet up beside you. You hope he’s joking. “There was a strange man in my bed last night, I’d like a full refund.” You counter.

“States in the fine print, if you like it, refunds are void.” You knew he was flirting with you, unashamedly, but you didn’t want him to stop. Maybe it was the way the flames danced on his features or him always deciding to sit right beside you, but your guard was down, and you found your body doing the frozen thing again, heart beating a million miles a minute.

“Who said I enjoyed it?” You say, hoping to knock him down a peg. He shrugs his shoulders and looks to you, “You said all you needed to say this morning.”. He says it in a matter of fact tone. You know he’s talking about the way you so obviously checked him out 2 feet away.

“I’m sorry again, I don’t know what I was thinking, you’re my boss and I’m engaged, it was highly inappropriate.” You say, keeping your self control. Guilt helped you, your fiancés face clouding your mind.

“Don’t apologize, doll. I tend to have that effect on people.” You laugh out loud, you couldn’t help yourself. You can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, based on the shit eating grin, he was joking.

“I just don’t want to give off the wrong idea.” You say, looking down at your hands. “And what’s that?” You can’t even look at him. This cat and mouse game was getting out of control.

You’re both just sitting beside each other, harmlessly flirting one second. The next second could be an entirely different story if you don’t tread lightly, “That I like you.” You look to him to see he’s smiling at you “What?” You say.

Bucky stands from the little couch, walking over to the hot coals. He blows on them to reignite the flames. “I didn’t peg you for a liar.”. The fires completely out, his technique failing. The tiny amount of warmth leaked from the cracks in the window seal, leaving you frozen mentally and physically.

“I’m not.” You say, standing up to leave. You couldn’t argue with him and you knew it. The reason being either because he’s your boss, or you don’t know you’d lose. “Where are you going?” He asks, following you to the kitchen. You decide to ignore him for a moment while you bundle up in many layers. Once you pull on your gloves you’re addressing him again. “I have a dinner to make it to, with my fiancés parents. It was uh nice to meet you I guess, till next time.” You nod your head and turn your back to him, fishing your keys from your bag.

You let out a scream when your face hits the glass on the door, the frost feeling like needles on your skin. “That’s cute, too bad you won’t make it.” He breathes in your ear. “Get off Bucky, I meant it.” You say, wiggling in his grasp. He had his body pressed against you, caging you to the door.

He reaches up and brushes your hair back, exposing the crook of your neck. “So now I’m Bucky? I’m afraid that ship has sailed sweet girl.” He chuckles, and now you realize how serious the situation was becoming. It hits you that he really does not care that you’ve promised yourself to someone else.

“Admit that you want me too, then I’ll let you go.”. Your throat goes dry, you know if he’s gone to these lengths then that’s not all it’s gonna take. “Please just let me go, I’ll pretend like this never happened.” You don’t know if you mean it. The way his body molded to yours would be seared into your brain.

You know you shouldn’t like the way he tightly gripped your hands behind your back. Or the way that the pain in your frost bitten cheek made your body heat up. You just had to get through the niceties of going down a path you couldn’t turn back on. Cheating on a partner is terrible, you know that. It’s why your brain won’t stop pleading to stop, but your body knows what it wants.

He drops your hands, holding them between you. You could easily slip away now, but you don’t even pull your arms free, you stay there with your breath held. “That’s not what I asked, now was it?” He pulls your face towards him, causing your neck to crane in an inhuman way. You look into his eyes and it’s not the same person. He looked between yours with expectation. You managed to croak out “I admit it.”. He steps back, releasing you from his hold.

“See that wasn’t so hard.” You turn your body around to face him, he’s still standing in your bubble. “So I can leave now?” You say, a little part of you hoping he has something else up his sleeve. What he pulls just isn’t what you expected.

“Oh doll, you’re never leaving.” You drop whatever role you’ve been playing the last two days. The thought of being trapped in this house waking you up from whatever spell Bucky had put you under. “Excuse me?” Your voice comes out in a high pitched huff. He takes back his spot pressing you against the door, but this time you’re looking him in the eye. “Like I said, you’re just what I need, the perfect person to run this place. It’s yours now, why would I let you leave?” His hand goes for your face, you feel his thumb caressing your lips; outlining them with the tip of his finger.

“Bucky, I’ll admit to the flirting, I’ll admit that I want you too, but it’s nothing more than that. At the end of the day I still have to go home to my fiancé.” You gave it one last shot before you completely give up trying. “I don’t think you’re getting it.” His eyes are black now, like an apex predator, he reaches up and grabs you by the chin. “What I want, I get.” Your body finally betrays your mind and you nod your head. Keeping your mouth shut while doing it.

He’s taken control over the situation, and you couldn’t fight anymore, putty in his hands. “Good girl, now call your ex boyfriend up, tell him you’ve accepted a big promotion, end things with him.” You don’t know what you’re gonna say, your fiancé knew you too well. He’d know somethings up. “He won’t believe it. He’ll come here, start asking questions and become a real problem for you.” You don’t know why you fed him with information. You weren’t even scared, you’d just accepted your fate.

“Then what are you proposing?” You turn your head and look at the snow still coming down hard. “Let the car fall over a hill, snow will cover foot steps and tire tracks. No one would see the car till everything melted, think i got lost and died somewhere in the woods.” You don’t know where that came from, honestly, faking your own death had never crossed your mind before, but somehow you were a genius at it.

Bucky seemed to like the idea because he leans forward, abruptly pressing his lips to yours. Your body takes over the autopilot seat, shutting your brain off completely. Your lips moved with his in an intoxicating way, you could quite literally feel yourself getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.

He pulls away. “What made you change your mind?” You know he was gonna ask eventually. “I gave up fighting it, fighting you.” You reach your hands out and lay them on his chest. “I’ve been trying my best to be a good girl these last 24 hours.”. You slide your fingers down to his waistband.

“I think I need some practice, to show myself,” you unbuckle his belt, “just how much,” you drop to your knees, pulling his slacks down with you. “I like being bad.”. You finish your theatrics with putting your hands behind your back, keeping your chin down but your eyes up.

You watched as his cock grew hard in his boxers. Bucky finishes your job and pushes them down, letting them fall to the floor. All your eyes could focus on was how big he was. You knew you’d be settling if you ran back to your fiancé now.

You don’t see him reach out and grasp your pony tail, wrapping it around his hand like a rein. He guides himself to your closed mouth, rubbing the tip across your bottom lip “I think you’re being a very good girl.” With that little praise you opened your mouth slightly, sticking out your tongue to wrap around the tip, coaxing his leaking cock into your mouth.

You liked having no control, letting your mouth be used by him. It electrified you, giving up was the best thing you could’ve done. “You like teasing me? Hmm?” He pulls your head back so you would meet his eye. The thought of being punished by Mr. Barnes was enough to make you nod your head, and wrap your lips completely around his tip, sucking lightly.

You feel precum drip onto your tongue, and you take the chance to stick it out and show him. You slid your tongue down to the base of him, smearing cum down his shaft. You look up with puppy dog eyes. “Want me to clean that up for you Mr. Barnes?” You bat your lashes.

You feel the hand in your hair tighten, and the vein in his forehead get bigger. “You’re gonna pay for that.” You bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from smiling. You didn’t want him to know just how much you anticipated his idea of punishment.

You’d brought the ideas up to your fiancé about role playing. You tried to teach him that sometimes pain could be pleasure but he never understood. So you let it go, but you held onto the fantasies you had about being spanked, denied climax after being brought to the brink over and over, being used like a lifeless doll whose only purpose is pleasure.

He derails your train of thought by shoving himself to the back of your throat. Your hands instinctively push his hips back to brace yourself. “Tsk, you need to be tied down don’t you?” He steps out of his pants pooled at his ankles.

He lifts you up, using your hair as a leash, leading you through the house, up to the master. The door was already open, a red glow flooding the hall. When you’re finally dragged through the door you see the fireplace blazing, candles surround the bed. For a moment you wonder why he had prepared all of this if you were supposed to leave.

“I was never gonna let you go.” He leads you to the bed, you crawl to the middle of the bed, waiting for further instruction. He walks around to the right side of the room, pulling open the top dresser drawer. He retrieves rope, coming back to stand beside the bed. “Just because you never saw me doesn’t mean it was the same for me.”.

He crawls up beside you, looping the rope into the headboard, tying your hands up against it. “I knew you were perfect on your first day at the manor.” He gets on top of you, kneeling so he can unbutton your white uniform top. “You did even see me, holding onto every word Bruce said, you were completely oblivious to the man following you around the mansion with cameras.” You didn’t even know the house had cameras. To be honest it shouldn’t since the things that go down here. You wonder what he’s watched you do, let your employees eat whatever they want, cut corners even though he says not to, take extra long breaks in less busy hours.

“Should I be weirded out? Cause that kinda turns me on.” You joke, poking fun at the fact that it was actually really creepy he watches you on the cameras. “You’re laughing now.” He scoots down the bed, stripping you of the rest of your clothes.

“How would you like your punishment?” He easily flips your body over, baring your ass to him. “I could whip you till you’re crying, begging me to stop.” He slaps your cheek, leaving a welt in the shape of his hand. He turns you back around and crawls up your body, pressing his cock to your lips again. “I could make you gag while I shove my dick deeper and deeper down your throat, and you’ll be begging me to breathe.” He pushes himself past the barrier your lips tried to form. Letting his tip make its way to the tightness of your throat. You can’t help but to swallow, causing your muscles to tighten. “Keep doing that and I’ll choose for you.” He pulls himself away from you, letting you catch your breath.

Bucky finds himself with his face between your legs. He couldn’t help himself but to dive right in and taste you. You were glistening from your own arousal. You bucked your hips into him, helping yourself get closer the high you’re both chasing. Right when your legs begin to shake he stops “or you could beg me to cum all night.”.

He comes up to face you, “All I know is you’ll be begging.”. Your blood shot eyes search his, how could you pick, all of them were exactly what you wanted. “None of those choices involve you inside me.”. You leave Bucky wordless as you wrap your untied legs around his waist, rubbing yourself against his hard cock.

He presses himself into you, the mess he already created allowed him to easily slip inside. The deeper he pushed you felt the air get sucked from your chest, your cheeks growing red hot. “No one’s ever..” you throw your head back, letting your jaw slack open. No one’s ever bottomed you out like this, stretched your walls while pounding on your cervix.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He remained unmoving until you adjusted to the size of him. The longer he stayed still, the more apparent the stinging and rips felt inside of you. “Please?” You just want him to move, even if it hurts. Bucky breaks out in a big smile “See baby? I told you you’d be begging me at some point tonight.”.

[neroushalvaus]

Tumblr in the 60s – Part 2

Part 1 / Deleted Scenes

💁🏼‍♀️brigittebardots Follow

anyone want to get fake married so i can get the pill to slut around

💋 marrymetwiggy Follow

Just say you have painful monthlies, I heard it works if you have a nice doctor!

💫 treatmetendermaureen Follow

Remember you still should use the sheet whenever possible. Stay safe ♡

1087 notes

♒ let-the-sunshine-in Follow

i think there's something wrong with me, i'm just so sleepy all the time, it's not fair

👭 marvelettesofficial Follow

That's because you spend all your nights listening to radio luxembourg

♒ let-the-sunshine-in Follow

i heard nothing last night so i built an antenna out of poultry net, iron wire and bits of tin. i cut my fingers and our family chickens ran away

☁️ ankin-vaimo Follow

A small price to pay for some music.

♒ let-the-sunshine-in Follow

the antenna fell apart before the german guy stopped talking

34 notes

🗣 ilovejohnlennon-deactivated19660729

me: chilling

my brain: if you were shot and weren't sure whether you'd live or die should you call the cops to make sure your murderer gets caught or call the ambulance to increase your chance of survival

me: what

🗣 elviskneesofficial-deactivated19631119

There should be a number that'd reach both of those

🕺 elvisherselvis Follow

That number already exists. It's been used in my city for like a two decades.

🏆 petebest-or-bust Follow

🕺 elvisherselvis Follow

Fuck you I'm British.

🪛 patrickwhoghton Follow

Oh my G, this post from -62 sounds so prophetic now that they're trying to make the 911 thing catch on, where's that jagger meme

🖖 spock-in-tardis Follow

🕺 elvisherselvis Follow

This is literally not gift of prophecy. I told you back when this post was first made that this number has already existed in UK for years. It was obviously going to spread elsewhere, even US was bound to catch on at some point.

🏆 petebest-or-bust Follow

you are still here?? keeping an eye on this post??

💋 marrymetwiggy Follow

you're so grumpy @elvisherselvis maybe you should phone the emergency number and get a wahhh-mbulance

98,9 t. notes

📼 bisexualbarbaradane Follow

my date: Oh I listen to folk as well!

me: That's so cool! Who are your favourites?

my date: I'm sooo into Bob Dylan.

me:

my date: Is everything okay?

me, stuffing jelly babies into my purse: I have to go, like, right now, immediately, sorry

#it's okay if you liked dylan before he became the judas he is #but you can't call yourself a folk fan if you still support him #ugghh i hate him #electric guitar using lil bitch #sigh #jelly baby meme #bob dylan critical // #anti bob dylan // #bob dylan hate //

2 notes

🛸 premisendgame Follow

Cock and balls, I'm watching this previously banned american film where an american man is trying to fuck a soviet spy (played by famously very russian Greta Garbo) by offering her champagne and he is like "have you never had champagne?" and Greta is like "never 🥺 only goat's milk and a ration of vodka in the army" and the tv screen freezed and was like "ERROR!! CHAMPAGNE HAS BEEN SERVED IN SOVIET UNION SINCE 1936" I'm 😂😂😂

🪐 stalincredible Follow

You Americans will say anything to make Soviet stuff look silly

🛸 premisendgame Follow

Where do you think I am watching soviet tv from?? Or did I miss the memo where americans have the monopoly on joking about their own damn country??

322 notes

🥁 ringoforpresident Follow

"In future there will be telephones you can take with you anywhere" I can't even fucking listen to Radio Luxembourg without building a goddamn satellite, sending it to space, reciting spells and prayers, and sticking the radio out of the window at 2am EET. And even then it needs to be snowing for it to work because the radio wave fairies like snow or some shit

♒ let-the-sunshine-in Follow

preach

540 notes

[kithtaehyung]

back to december (teaser) (m) | ksj

title: back to december (teaser) pairing: brother's best friend!seokjin x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , fluff , smut ; brother’s best friend au, wedding au, second chance au summary: ever since you left town to pursue your dreams, life has fast forwarded into one big blur. so when you hit pause to attend your brother’s wedding exactly three years later, your brain instinctively resets and rewinds. because you have to spend it with the very person that had been there at the start. the one person you regret leaving behind. note: this originally started as a one-shot for @raplinesmoon for the maui relief fundraiser, but turned into something more. since it also fit into the mold of this holiday collab, here we are! note 2: this is part of the jingle all the way collaboration with @kpopfanfictrash, @leahsfavefics, @cybrsan, @yoonia, and @sugaurora! all the holiday collab fics have the phrase “the holidays aren’t so bad with you around.” warnings: [explicit warnings to be posted on drop day!] language, alcohol, angst lol, time switches/flashbacks, seokjin being the sweetest until he’s not >:)), reader being damn cool, overthinking, bbf!jin needs his own warning i am warning y’all now, horribly great jokes, winter themes, relationship failures, stress/anxiety, jin being jin, did i say angst?, falling into cold water, a lot of gd yearning mood: back to december - taylor swift, halley's comet - billie eilish, universe/snowing in la - thuy teaser word count: 1.2k | est. word count: uhhh 20k+ lol wanna be on the taglist? add yourself here! est. drop date: january 2024

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-

It all started with an accident in winter. 

Ever the gracious hosts, your family decided to throw a cookout for your brother’s birthday, inviting everyone in the neighborhood and its outskirts to join in celebration. While your brother was initially opposed to being outside in the frost, word got around that his crush of three years running would be present, which suddenly warmed him right up to the whole idea.

Typical.

You were also initially opposed—having to sit through the festivities while your older sibling hogged all the attention—until you discovered your own downfall was attending, too. 

Because of course he would.

And if he was coming, you were set on making your naive self presentable and noticeable, and you still consider the day of the party to be the best you’ve ever carried yourself. You were confident, you were radiant.

Until you got bumped into the backyard pool.

You don’t even recall who knocked you in. All you remember was water rushing into your vision, and paddling through outright shame and embarrassment when you shakily swam your freezing bones to the ledge. Everyone saw you: your friends, your family, your brother’s older circle and acquaintances. In your adolescence, it was the literal worst thing to have happened to anyone in the history of ever.

But someone’s outstretched hand greeted you when you got to the pool’s edge. 

And when you looked up, you questioned if you hit the bottom on the way in because the face you were seeing was a shock. Were you deceased? Did you somehow swim to heaven’s beach?

No. It was really him, the very person you got all dressed up for. 

Seokjin. Handsome, reserved, off-limits friend of your brother Seokjin. 

Years later, you still question why he was the one helping you out. But it didn’t matter at the time because all you wanted was to get thawed out as soon as possible. 

“Come on,” he had urged. “You’ll get sick.”

Trembling because of the cold and nothing else, you took his hand and let him haul you into the house, wondering what the hell was going on the entire time. Why was he the one helping you? Where the hell was your brother? 

Because not only did he lead you inside, but the boy also accompanied you to your bathroom, grabbing a towel off its rack and wrapping it around your knocking shoulder blades. 

“Grab some clothes, okay?” 

“Huh?” 

“Go get clothes,” Seokjin ordered, moving towards your shower. “And change out of those as soon as you can.” 

“Oh.” Blinking, you couldn’t decide if your shivers were from the fall or his comments. But either way, you were shaking horrendously. “Yeah, okay.” 

After that, you remember being so cold you couldn’t even move your legs. Which meant that Seokjin had to lead you to your room and wait at the entrance while you hastily grabbed whatever you could find. 

There was no way he was gonna catch the cutesy patterns of your underwear. No way. 

When you were done, Seokjin brought you back into the restroom, the spray of water echoing through the festively decorated space. “It should be warm enough now,” he urged. “Don’t wait.” 

“Thank you,” you finally huffed, hating how your shakes stifled your gratitude. “You can, uhm. Go back out there now.” 

“Mm.” In the doorway, his eyes reflected the bright lights so perfectly. To this day, you still remember the way you compared them to stars. “Well. Umm. Good luck.” 

And you will never forget the way you felt heat before you even touched the run of the shower. 

“Yes, it’s all set. We are still on for Monday.” 

“Good. This is the meeting we absolutely cannot miss.” 

“Umm, yes—I mean—Understood.” 

“Is everything okay over there?” 

Rushing to close the door of your rental, you bite back a curse as your suit jacket catches in the edge. Because of course it does after the frantic day you’ve already had. “Yes! Everything’s”—you smush your top against your side while shutting the door again—“Fine! But I do have to go.” 

“Sure, sure. Oh, one more thing—”

Right. Rummaging through your purse, you locate the keys at the very bottom while trying to ingest the four things being tossed into your ear, locking the car in a fast walk to the massive mountainside property ahead of you. 

“ —then we’ll finalize the merger. Got that?” 

Holy shit, your brother must be doing even better than you or his fiance is loaded. 

“Hello?” 

“Oh, shit, sorry. Yes, Mr. Hamada, we can do that.” 

“Mm. What did we say about language.” 

“Apologies.” Damn your filthy mouth for running even faster in cold weather. Because it is the goddamn arctic out here. “I will say I have been getting better, though.” 

“Improvement won’t matter if you fuck up during the meeting.” 

“Alright, buddy.” Your superior’s laugh grates your ear as you haul ass into the warm estate, worry suddenly gripping you when you realize that no one is walking around. 

Shit, are you that late? Did you miss everything? 

Skittering right to the main doors, you start to panic. Are these the main doors? They look like them. Fancy. Very fancy. Shit, shit, shit, is the wedding over—

A full body bumps into your side as you round a table bursting with flowers. Having a sound enough mind to cover your receiver, you react in a shout, “Hey, watch it—” 

“Sorry!” 

Wait. You know that voice. 

Even though it’s one that you haven’t heard in years. 

“…Jin?” 

Everything slowly stops as the man turns and, if you weren’t so in shock, you would’ve noticed the way his eyes traveled from your heels to your perfectly trimmed brows. 

You expect both something and nothing. Because when it comes to the person standing in front of you, there’s no telling what he’ll destroy you with next. 

But what comes out is merely a tiny, chest-constricting, 

“Hello.” 

You stare, and stare, and stare some more. Even your boss cannot bring you back to the present with his incessant poking. 

Because Jin looks so fucking handsome in his suit that’s not quite dressed yet, with hair that’s swept just enough to throw you off planet earth. Even the way his tie lounges around his neck gives you pause, because it showcases how broad his shoulders have become. 

How can he look the same and yet so heartbreakingly different?

“I—” 

“Later, tuna fish.” 

Your heart lurches. 

“They’re waiting for me.” 

To your dismay, Seokjin presses a soft hand on your shoulder while passing through the ornate entrance, his lingering burn searing through as you watch him button his suit on the run. 

Well. At least you didn’t miss the wedding. 

You hear your sibling’s hearty shout echo throughout the hall, but you have to physically tear yourself from your spot to finally answer your boss. 

And to not fixate on the one person you thought you were safe from today. 

But of course he’s here. Why wouldn’t he be? Him and your brother have been inseparable since the beginning, and you should’ve known even being on different planets wouldn’t keep them apart too long. 

Speaking of… 

Traveling to another galaxy might solve the numbing ache in your chest. Maybe you should consider that gigantic leap yourself. 

Because seeing Jin again brings you back to December. 

And the frost you feel in your bones overshadows any weather brewing outside. 

-

-

tbc.

-

wheee! we have a teaser! | join the taglist!

a/n: isi i hope you know what monster you're about to unleash lmao. here's to another holiday seokjin! gosh, he will keep haunting me and i love him for it. second chance with isi's initial brother's best friend!jin request? gotta love it. the one-two-three punch, i reckon. anyways, hope y'all enjoyed the teaser and i am so so nervous about the main drop but hope you like that, as well :'))

links: jingle all the way collab ; masterlist

[itsjunear]

Hidden Feelings. Part 3

Hello everyone! Here is the last and third part. I'm sorry for taking so long, this time there are no excuses, I just ask for forgiveness 😭😭Thanks to everyone for the reblogs and likes ❤❤❤ I really appreciate it. I hope you like it, sorry if there are any mistakes, English is not my first language. I love you all ❤❤❤

Warnings: Mentions of violence, mention of misogyny, if you squint you'll see a slight mention of nudity

Psdt: I'll advance that it has a happy ending. I hate sad endings, sorry. There's a bit of anguish, but everything gets resolved.

Part 1 Part 2

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By the Cauldron, perhaps my foolishness had led me to this situation.

Maybe I should have let Cassian or Az accompany me, after all, they knew their people better, and that would have avoided the whole mess I found myself in, knee-deep in crap.

I gasped for air as I tried to make my limbs obey, too tired to achieve any result. The cold pierced my bones, and I was sure I would freeze if I couldn't manage to move even a little. But everything hurt, my arms felt limp, my legs too weak to stand, and I could even feel my face starting to swell, bruises becoming more pronounced with each passing moment, and a stabbing pain in my side with every breath.

Where was Rhys? He said he would come to take me home in our last communication.

I tried to move a bit, flexing my knees with great effort as I groaned in pain, almost crying out from the ache on my right side, but only managed to end up with my face buried in the snow. Gods, it didn't feel so bad, it burned a bit, but the cold would help reduce the swelling. Immortal blood should already be doing its job trying to heal the wounds, but the pain didn't diminish in any way.

I closed my eyes as I tried to gather strength in my arms to push myself up when I heard footsteps approaching me. Then, my brain started working to alert me, and I forced myself to lift my head a little, assessing the threat. A tall figure, filled with shadows and wings, was running towards me. I almost sighed in relief when I distinguished Az's figure, getting closer and closer.

"Y/N" he shouted.

He knelt beside me, looking worried and as beautiful as ever, with his nose and cheeks flushed from the cold.

"What happened? By the Mother" His eyes scanned me up and down, assessing all the damage. He touched my face gently, and I winced when he brushed against my right cheek and withdrew his hand automatically, throwing an apologetic glance before icy anger took over his face.

Did I look that bad?

"I'm… fine, Az" I replied haltingly, struggling to speak but trying to keep the fog out of my head.

"Rhys said you would be here, and when he felt…" he cut himself off halfway through the sentence, gently moving me so he could bear my weight "I came as fast as I could, I'm sorry" his shadows swirled around us, restless.

"It's okay, Az. You're here" I repeated as I rested my head on his chest, allowing myself to savor the moment as I closed my eyes. He wrapped both arms around me, careful not to hurt me further, and enveloped us both with his wings.

"I'll take you home" he whispered lightly in my ear, and I nodded, unsure if he could see me or not. He gently carried me in his arms, and I buried my face in his neck, filling myself with his scent. However, I could feel his tense body, the anger he emitted was palpable even though he was trying to be as gentle as possible with me.

"I'm fine, Az, relax" I told him in a low tone. A little lie. Fatigue was killing me.

"You wouldn't say that if you saw the same thing I'm seeing" he grumbled.

If I could roll my eyes, I would have, but sleep began to invade me, and I no longer had the strength to argue with him. I was safe, and that was all that mattered. Az had come for me.

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

I woke up with a terrible headache.

Damn. I slowly opened my eyes, aware of where I was. In my room. Alive. I sighed and touched my face, pain-free. Good. I took a deep breath and sat up, feeling that slight twinge in my side again. I lowered my gaze and found bandages.

Great. I should have been healed by now. If they were just scratches, why was I still in bed?

"Because it weren't just scratches, you had two broken ribs and a contusion" Rhys leaned against the doorframe.

"Stop spying on me" I grumbled hoarsely.

He raised his hands in surrender and walked towards me, sitting beside me on the bed. "How do you feel?" he asked with a concerned voice.

"Like I've been beaten up" I simply replied, sighing "Cassian will kick my ass for this."

"I'd say he'll leave you alone until you're fully recovered and then drag you out of bed at dawn to train again" he replied with a gentle smile before returning to his distressed tone "You should have seen his face when he saw you unconscious in Az's arms. He was worried. We all were."

"I know, I'm sorry" I looked at my nails "I… I was ambushed and caught off guard, Rhys"

He took my hand, and I met his violet eyes "What happened?" he asked without pressure.

I knew he wouldn't force me to tell anything, but I wanted to, so I squeezed his hand in response and opened my shields to let him in.

I showed him everything. How I had to pretend to be a female who only wanted to drink until unconsciousness and how I had to flirt with other equally drunk males to get them to tell me something, anything. I showed him how the night before I had obtained information from an Ilyrian soldier about those females, how they had been killed, and why. When I almost vomited because their only justification was: "They couldn't be tamed anymore. We had to root it out before it spread to the others" as if they were just simple animals. And even when, in the middle of the night, I was packing my things to get out of that dump and several Ilyrians surrounded me, realizing I had been discovered. Every blow they struck me with, in the stomach, the head, the face, the back, how I felt pain everywhere, they had beaten me almost into unconsciousness as a warning, so that I wouldn't snoop around again, they had said. And the moments before Az found me in the middle of the snow.

When we returned to reality, Rhys's body was so tense that I could feel all that contained rage, so I just touched his arm in a gesture to calm down.

It worked, because he shot me a guilty look, and I raised my hand to stop him.

"Don't do that. This wasn't anyone's fault. You didn't send me there, I volunteered to go, and it just didn't turn out as we hoped" It seemed to calm him a bit, but not entirely, and I continued speaking. "Anyway, they didn't know who I was, maybe they suspected a bit, but they didn't have a chance to ask me"

Rhys shook his head.

"I haven't received any notification from the camp, you're probably right."

I nodded. "I'm fine, Rhys. This wasn't anyone's fault, it could have happened to anyone, even to you or Cassian and Az. Relax."

Rhys sighed before his gaze turned serious. "Azriel will definitely enjoy hunting them down."

I opened my mouth to respond when the shadow singer walked into the room with bandages in hand. A look of understanding passed between Rhys and he stood up from where he was.

"I'll leave you alone. Rest" he said before getting up from my side. "Take a few days off, nothing will be deducted from your salary." he joked with a small smile, and I laughed.

However, the laughter turned into a groan when that twinge attacked again, and I had to bring my hand to that spot.

"Majda said that in a few days you should be good as new, just with rest and medication, but it'll hurt until it's fully healed" Az said with a raised eyebrow.

"Great" I groaned again.

He walked to the bed and sat down, taking Rhys's place as his shadows roamed the room, one wrapping around a loose strand of my hair. I smiled and felt Az's intense gaze on me.

"I need to change your bandage" was all he said.

I nodded as I took off the oversized shirt that wasn't mine, probably his from the scent of cedar infused in it, when I remembered I wasn't wearing any underwear to cover my breasts, but honestly… it didn't matter, after all, he had already seen me vulnerable, bleeding, and almost dead.

His intense gaze never wavered from its target, which seemed to be me. So I let him do his work and just covered my breasts with the shirt.

"Thank you" I said as his hands touched me gently, hands full of scars that I loved so much, and I felt my skin tingling in every place he caressed "For coming to find me."

He looked at me and stopped. Taking my face in his hands, his hazel eyes filled with gentleness "You have nothing to thank me for. I'm sorry I arrived too late."

"Azriel, this isn't anyone's fault"

I shook my head, feeling my heart racing. It meant nothing more, Az was obviously worried, if the situation were reversed, I'd be the same. I had no reason to think this was something else, I wouldn't let my heart get carried away.

"I shouldn't have let you go alone, I had a bad feeling" he said as he leaned his forehead against mine, and I felt tears welling up in my eyes.

I shouldn't let him do this, how would I recover from this? How would I feel later, when I saw him with the beautiful and sweet Elain?

I blinked to clear my vision and pulled away from him. I couldn't… I just couldn't.

Az looked at me with hurt eyes, and his wings fluttered behind him the same way his shadows did, but he kept talking. "I'm sorry, truly. Seeing you there in the snow… By the Cauldron, I've never felt so much fear, and when you fell asleep…" He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up a bit "I was so terrified you wouldn't wake up again that…"

"Stop, Az" I interrupted him as my throat trembled and my heart ached "Don't say those things, okay?"

I couldn't let him continue talking. No. Because it would make me give in and tell him I've loved him for centuries.

"No" he challenged me, determined "Let me finish. I can't imagine… Seeing that I almost lost you made me panic because I couldn't imagine being immortal and living without you. And realizing that reality…"

"Az" I cut him off again as I grabbed one of his shoulders desperately and shook him slightly. "Stop, please" I let out a pained whisper.

I wanted to cry so badly, and I guessed his shadows sensed it because they ran over my arms as a form of comfort.

Azriel ignored me.

"I love you" he confessed then. "I have for a long time, so long that spending time with you was a sweet torture. You don't have to feel the same, I just wanted to tell you. I know we haven't been completely right for a few weeks, but we can fix it…"

"What?" my body trembled as I realized what he was saying, and the lump in my throat grew bigger.

He took my face in his hands and kissed my forehead gently. "I love you, I'm sorry it took me so long to tell you."

My heart, my poor heart that had been so hurt, filled with hope… and maybe… Yes. Maybe all of this was true, but… What about Elain?

"What?" Az's face filled with confusion. Damn, had I thought out loud? I sighed and realized I had already opened that door I had been so afraid to explore before.

"Elain… I've seen you with her, you know? You look comfortable with her, Az, and I don't want to get in the way…" I said without any reproach.

"Haven't you heard anything I told you before?" he responded with desperation. "I love you, only you. I'm completely yours." He sighed, and his wings drooped a little. "Elain is nice, I think she's great as a friend, nothing more. If I've spent more time with her lately, it's because I thought you needed space from me, because I saw you distancing yourself from me and I thought… Damn."

By the Mother. This was real.

"Do you love me?" was all I could ask, completely forgetting about Elain.

"I do. My heart and my soul are yours" he replied.

"Az…" I said his name in a sigh "I love you too, I have for centuries, probably since that time you ate the carrot cake I tried to bake and no one else wanted to try."

Az chuckled softly before leaning in and capturing my lips in a slow kiss, filled with years of longing, and the shirt that barely covered me left my breasts exposed as I raised my hands to tangle them in his hair. His lips felt soft against mine, and I opened my mouth in an invitation he gladly accepted, sliding his tongue in. I wanted to move a little more to feel him, but I let out a moan when that damn rib hurt me again. Az laughed in the midst of the kiss and pulled away.

"You shouldn't move too much yet" he said as he stroked my hair.

"I know, it's very annoy…"

"You look pretty good, actually. Rhys told me you're still not ready to train, but I think I'll see you in the ring tomorrow" Cassian's voice made an appearance in the room, startling us and interrupting us, so Az quickly raised a wing to try to cover me.

I let out a laugh that made me ache, and Cassian followed suit with a laugh.

Az handed me the shirt, and I put it on as we shared a amused look. There were still things we needed to figure out, but we would do it later.

Together.

@going-through-shit @isa1b2h3 @willowpains @mariahoedt @charlotteintumbleland @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife @otherworldly-creatures-blog @sirens-and-moonflowers @i-am-infinite @kalulakunundrum @jenniferpendragon @randomperson1234sblog @abysshaven @coolepowersthings @fxckmiup @boygeniuses10 @fightmedraco @prettylittlewrites

[roploem]

How am I still here? SQH au:

The thigh hugging wasn’t enough.

Disciple SQH is running through a snowy forest, dodging ice shard projectiles. SQH isn’t very athletic, he can feel his lungs constricting and his body feels on fire unlike the snowy environment.

SQH looks back on the life he has made for himself here, how the other disciples who died on this trip had their own thoughts and ambitions. How they died for nothing.

Tears form at the corners of SQH’s eyes. He’s going to die, he is going to die and the system will erase his soul. He wonders if the system will be merciful and send him to this world’s heaven, he doesn’t get his hopes up though.

Suddenly SQH feels a sharp pain from his shoulder, his body freezes up and his knees buckle. SQH supports his body with his hands and knees, his unprotected hands meeting the icy chill of snow.

He steadily looks at his shoulder.

Red. His entire shoulder is red with blood. His shoulder muscles have been decimated with an ice shard that has landed a few feet ahead, covered in his blood. He will bleed out in a few minutes with this type of wound.

HIS character, the one he made just for himself, not his fan base. His favorite, is going to kill him.

SQH really can’t ever be happy, can he? He’s all alone in this world.

The only person he would ever claim to be even close to being a friend in both of his lives, is his biggest “hater”. Peerless Cucumber. It might sound sad, but looking at Cucumbers comments really helped him mentally. It helped him discover he wasn’t a terrible author, well, at the beginning of his novel at least. Cucumber also supported him financially, even if it was to just bash him quicker.

SQH’s one regret is that he never got to meet the person who put food on his plate, kept him in his home, and payed his medical bills. That might be an exaggeration, especially with all of the other people who bought things from him, but Cucumber was the only one who only brought SQH’s official merch. None of that quick cash stuff.

SQH’s arms shake underneath him as he hears Mobei’s feet crunch in the snow, he’s getting closer. SQH has always been pathetic, he admits it, ok? He just wishes he was able to at least make a friend in this new life, or even just meet his son, Luo Binghe.

SQH’s vision is blurring, his body is going numb, the pain isn’t as intense, and his lungs feel like they are shrinking. So this is it? Is being a ratty disciple and a terrible author all SQH amounts to?

His eyes flutter shut as he feels Mobei skewer him with another ice shard through his abdomen. He is finally dead.

…

SQH’s eyes shoot open as he sits up with speed. His body aches and his throat is dry. He looks around and sees it is a patient room in Qian Cao.

How was he here?

How is he alive?

What happened…?

SYSTEM!!!!

PART 2 COMING SOON!!!

(Omg this has been rotting my brain for DAYS. Istg. I hope y’all enjoyed this as much as I do!! Love you all!! Tyyy)

[cityzenshark]

Biology of Terrans (so far)

1 - Fuel & energy

Already explained in canon: water. However it's not clarified if they need specifically Emberstone-infused water or just water is enough. Judging by S1 part A, Twitch and Thrash goes about probably a week or two unfed before their body goes on automatic drive to find their energy source and can turn aggressive (like humans when we're tired and hungry). [edit: they do specifically need Emberstone water]

2 - Language

It's shown that the current Terrans immediately knows, speak and read in English. I think this is because the Maltos' mother tongue is English. Should a Terran is born, lets say, in Japan or linked to a Japanese person, their base language and literacy is Japanese. If the linked human is multi-cultural, the Terrans might be multilingual but it doesn't seem to be the case since the Malto kids are half-Filipino.

3 - Basic knowledge

Besides having literacy from the moment they're born, the Terrans absorb knowledge a lot faster without having to download them into their brains like a Cybertronian would. But they still require time, experience and teachers.

[Nightshade's high intelligence should've been enabled/recognized by Wheeljack first but they had to make NS super smart out of nowhere while their siblings took a few episodes. OR Nightshade is super smart because they're data(?) is influenced by Alex since he's present when the triplets are born]

What they need longer time to learn is emotional intelligence. They can't understand mixed feelings or read a situation unless someone explains it them.

4 - High adaptability to Earth conditions (HC)

Cybertronians hate Earth's nature not only because it's disgusting to them, because Earth is not friendly to metals. Rusting materials, temperature-based pressures, humidity, atmosphere, dirt, sand, and water -- the Terrans' life source.

In multiple shows, Cybertronians aren't adaptable to Earth's weather. Snow freezes their bodies, lightning can harm them, seawater rusts, etc.. What if the Terrans are immune to them?

Humans are adapted to the natural conditions of our native home. Ex. Tibetans thrive normally with the mountains' thin air while non-natives need oxygen masks. While Cybertronians have very limited time in frozen lands, Terrans can go about as long as they want. Cybertronians need to wash themselves off of seawater to prevent rust, meanwhile the Terrans are just fine.

[sgt-tombstone]

2 or 38 (or both at once!) for the kiss roulette writings! 💋

2. A kiss on the nose

38. A kiss while one party is carried

Here’s a bare-bones 5+1 idea: 5 times Johnny kissed Ghost on the nose and 1 time he couldn’t quite reach

1. The first time it happens, it’s supposed to be a joke. They’re in the mess hall, the entire 141 crowded around a table far too small for their hulking figures, and far too much money is being placed on a stupid bet. Ghost criticizes Soap’s sniper scores (“better work on your aim, sergeant”), Soap quickly defends (“Ah’ve impeccable aim, thank ye, LT”), and then pounds hit the table, which means that Soap has to prove himself. He stands up with a joking quip, leans down to press an exaggerated kiss to Ghost’s balaclava-clad nose, and marches off to the sniper range to defend his honor (he doesn’t notice Ghost’s blazing blush, nor does he beat any of Ghost’s personal records, so it’s a bust in nearly every regard)

2. The second time it happens, it’s full of uncertainty. Soap and Ghost are standing outside, just out of the light of the base flood lamps, their faces lit only by the glowing tip of their shared cigarette. Ghost is still in his hard-shell mask, droplets of blood staining the… plastic? resin? bone? Soap has never asked, and he’s not sure he wants to. The tension is thick, cloying and suffocating, and Soap takes a leap of faith. He plucks the burnt-down cigarette from between Ghost’s lips, brushes his lips against the tip of Ghost’s nose where it peeks out of the triangular cutout, and grinds the cigarette under the heel of his boot. It takes a moment for Ghost’s brain to reboot, and then Johnny finds himself pulled in for a real, proper kiss, both of them grinning so hard that they can barely manage it

3. The third time it happens, it’s full of worry. Their safe house is in the middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere in the middle of Russia and it’s fucking freezing. Ghost is bundled up as much as he can be, but he’d caught a bad chill the day before, and shivers wrack his body ceaselessly. Johnny builds the fire as best as he can, tending to it religiously, finding comfort in the knowledge that no one is actively hunting them. He strips his outer layers, those covered in snow and ice, and climbs into the cot with Ghost, wrapping them both in their emergency blanket, pressing as close as possible to fit. He wraps his arms around Ghost’s sleeping figure, trying to imbue as much warmth as he can, and he silently, softly, kisses Ghost’s chilled nose. Exfil is on its way, he knows, and they’ll both survive the night, but he’d rather them both be somewhere warm, or at least far more comfortable than this

4. The fourth time it happens, it’s a little bit sloppy. Ghost has his arm around Johnny, supporting some of his weight as they stumble out of the pub. Johnny had managed to drag the 141 out to grab a pint and watch the footie match between Scotland and… someone; none of them are really sober enough to remember who, only that Scotland had won by two goals and Soap had decided to celebrate with two more rounds of shots. Ghost has never been more aware of the gap between his short term and long term memory; he can actively feel each passing moment fall through the cracks, lost to time and drink and something akin to joy. Johnny’s still crowing about something, loud and proud and completely inintelligible, and then he surges up and presses a wet kiss to the tip of Ghost’s masked nose, grinning like a fool the whole time. When Ghost wakes up the next morning, his arms still curled around a fast-asleep Johnny, the only memory he has of the night before is the feeling of Johnny’s lips on his skin, and he’s completely okay with that

5. The fifth time it happens, it’s stark and sterile. The mission had gone badly, because they always did. The intel was fine, the target wasn’t unexpected, and there hadn’t been any outside interference, and yet… Ghost had taken a bullet to the arm, and then one to the gut, and blood had been everywhere, spilling too fast and too far, running in rivulets that Soap couldn’t stop. And now Ghost is unconscious. Wrapped in bandages, clad in a thin, stark white hospital gown, covered in a thin, stark white hospital blanket, and Johnny can’t help it. He doesn’t care that Gaz and Price are standing right there, heads bowed in a semi-private conversation of their own just two feet away. He perches on the edge of the hospital bed, Ghost’s limp hand clutched in between both of his own, and presses a gentle kiss to his nose before resting his forehead against Ghost’s. He’s not sure how long he stays like that, time measured only in the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, but then Ghost’s eyes are blinking open, the anesthetic wearing off slowly, and Soap can only smile a tear-filled, watery smile, steeped in relief

+1: The sixth time it happens, it’s a warm day. Johnny had joked that they were lucky; Scotland only has three days of summer per year, so the weather choosing to behave for their wedding day is nothing short of a blessing. It’s a simple affair, despite the entirety of the MacTavish clan showing up for the festivities, and before Johnny knows it, the vows have been said, the rings have been exchanged, and the symbolic kiss has been delivered upon waiting lips. And it’s over. He’s officially married to the love of his life, and he couldn’t be happier. He turns to the crowd, preparing to walk back down the aisle with his new husband in tow, but instead he feels his feet leave the ground as Simon sweeps him up and into his arms. He’s grinning like an idiot; they both are, but they don’f care how they look to everyone else. They only have eyes for each other. Johnny gazes adoringly up at his husband as Simon marches them down the aisle, headed back to the house to get refreshed before the reception. He lifts a hand, wrapping it around the back of Simon’s neck, and strains up to kiss him. But he can’t reach. Instead, his lips brush the divot of Simon’s bare chin, freshly smoothed and still smelling of aftershave, and Simon grins down at him.

“Better work on your aim, sergeant,” he quips, and Johnny can only laugh, giddy in the knowledge that he’s always had impeccable aim

———

prompt from this list!

[wynnyfryd]

🐳 howdy ✨

Hello there, lovely. Welcome to my blog. If you’re here I assume you’re also a deranged little doofus, and I love that about you. The brainrot gripped me and never let go, so this is primarily a steddie blog (and occasionally a personal one when I remember to check my asks.)

Steddie fic masterlist below. I also post a ton of drabbles and shorter stories on my blog, and if you want more content you can check out the monthly writing challenge I created and run with @steddieas-shegoes at @steddiemicrofic <3

————————

in progress

i don't know, you figure it out (trailer park steve au)

rated E | posting to tumblr in daily parts under #trailer park steve au, which will be added to ao3 as chapters are completed

ch. 1: part 1-5, ao3

ch. 2: part 6-8, ao3

ch. 3: part 9-12, ao3

ch. 4: part 13-18, ao3

ch. 5: part 19-22, ao3

ch. 6: part 23-27, ao3 | artwork by @inklessletter

bonus scene: stobin hangover brunch

ch. 7: part 28-32, ao3 | artwork by @foxprism

ch. 8: part 33-36, ao3

ch. 9: part 37-40, ao3

ch. 10: part 41-47, ao3

ch. 11: part 48-53, ao3

ch. 12: part 54-55, ao3

ch. 13: part 56-60, ao3

ch. 14: part 61-64, ao3

ch. 15: part 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | ao3

In which the Munsons get new neighbors, but instead of the Mayfields it’s the former King Steve and his recently widowed mom.

manic goblic dream boy

13.2k | not rated | 28/? chapters | ao3

this is where I archive all my tumblr drabbles when I remember to actually do that. each chapter is a standalone piece

completed fics

game, set, match

2.2k | E | good boy eddie munson pwp, written for @subeddieweek day 4 | ao3

baby it's cold outside (but it's real warm in your mouth)

9k | E | enemies to smothered, written with @griefabyss69 for @subeddieweek day 3 | ao3 | artwork by @donttellunclesam

Steve and Eddie get snowed in.

biting you biting you biting you- oh! kissing you!

2.5k | M | platonically non-platonic stobin crack with a dash of pre-relationship steddie | ao3

Get blackout drunk and French your friends: the musical.

it was love, love alone

2.5k | E | silly sweaty steddie sex | ao3 | podfic by @reena-jenkins

Steve and Eddie get freaky on the Hellfire throne.

nine of diamonds

1.1k | T | crack-fluff written while my train was delayed | ao3

a kinda-sorta-not-really Eddie POV sequel to ‘is this your card?’

Satanic Ritual: DO NOT WATCH!!

5.8k | E | weirdly sentimental slut time based on this art by @inklessletter | ao3

Chicago 1994: Steve and Eddie move in together, then they watch a film.

yoga dom steve series

33.3k | E | dom steve x sub eddie kink exploration series | ao3

Eddie’s ADHD as hell and Steve’s a hot stretchy boi who’s gonna box breath the brain bees into submission. or something.

relax (lay it back): 12k | E | ao3 | cowritten with @gorgeousgreymatter-x for @flintandfuss’s birthday

relax (that’s that): 2.6k | E | ao3

a masterpiece of art, it’s true: 3.3k | M | ao3

i know it’s hard to do: 9k | E | ao3

blue dream: 6.3k | E | ao3

your kiss is on my list

2.3k | T | fluff, getting together | ao3

Steddie Week 2023, day 3: discover | first kiss | ‘kiss on my list’ by hall & oates

is this your card?

4.5k | T | hellhonk origins | ao3

Steve, Robin, and Eddie kill time in a bar.

damn right, you do

2.7k | T | prompt fill for @mcneen | ao3

Steve could use a hug. Fortunately Eddie's a great hugger.

Monsoon Season

6.1k | E | crack prompt author AU | ao3

Beloved children's author Eddie Munson, meet notoriously petty smut writer Steve Harrington.

TITS! Magazine

11.9k | E | art student Eddie x model Steve AU | ao3

Eddie finds a magazine, then he finds a man.

No Son of Mine

4.5k | M | angst, hurt-comfort | ao3 | podfic by wildishly

Steve shows up at Eddie's door with a handprint on his cheek and his heart on his sleeve.

i’ll stop the world and freeze with you

634 words | G | meet-cute AU drabble | ao3

Eddie promised he’d take Max ice skating, only he doesn’t actually have a single solitary fucking clue what he’s doing. Good thing there’s a very helpful Hot Guy who can assist.

The Great Scavenger Hunt of 1986

7.9k | T | heart-warming Christmas fluff | ao3 | listen to the podfic

In 1985, Little Debbie releases their new Christmas tree snack cakes. In 1986, Robin gets the flu, and Steve sets out to cheer her up with festive treats. It's easier said than done.

(My one and only completed attempt at podfic, godDAMN how do y’all finish these editing projects?) written for Hellfire Christmas 2022

patience is a virtue

1.7k | E | self-indulgent pwp | ao3

Being patient sucks. Literally.

hayrides and late harvests

651 words | M | pre-smut drabble | ao3

day 5, prompt #31: “Let me help you. I’m begging you to let me help you.”

Bobbing for Apples at the Bottom of Lover’s Lake

1.9k | M | getting together, mopey steve x vampire eddie | ao3

Steve goes missing at the Halloween house party; Eddie tracks him down.

Steve H. Who Works in Accounting

2.9k | E | pwp that made me laugh | ao3

Robin’s in pain. Steve’s bisexuality isn’t helping. (or: Steve gets embarrassed and apparently he’s kinda into that.)

microfics

@steddiemicrofic prompt fills

paint it black 🎂🖤🎂

290 words | M | bonus round ‘birthday’ to celebrate @steddieas-shegoes | ao3

Steve bakes Eddie a birthday cake.

make me

388 words | E | March prompt ‘pin’ | ao3

“Eat a dick, Munson.” “Make me.”

Plot Holes

404 words | T | January prompt ‘hole’ | tumblr | ao3

the gates are open and time’s all fucked

🎵 Troll Toll 🎵

404 words | M | January prompt ‘hole’ | tumblr | ao3

three fandoms converged in a future wood, and I— I regret that I wrote this

the kind of charm we need

548 words | G | September prompt ‘charm’ | ao3

Nancy doesn’t appreciate him, but someone else might.

at the bottom you’ll find all our friends

442 words | M | MCD/angst | July prompt ‘pool’ | ao3

The trouble is, Eddie doesn't stay dead.

discontinued fics

note: fics in this section are NOT complete and will very likely stay that way. read them, write your own version, print em out and eat em if you like but so HELP ME if you ask when the next chapter is coming i’ll end u thank you 😘

stupid fucking star stuff

3.4k | M | stardust AU | ao3

Steve’s a star and Eddie’s in love with a guitar.

babysitters and book signings

4.2k | G | famous author Eddie x just-some-guy Steve | ao3

Steve takes the kids to a convention to meet their favorite fantasy author, one critically-acclaimed and unfairly attractive Eddie Munson.

[j0elmill3r]

Man, I Hate Golf.

Pairing - Joel Miller x Daughter!reader

Summary - Joel has a newfound hate for golf after Abby leaves him traumatized.

Warnings - Major character death, violence, sad Joel, diverges from canon, spoilers for the last of us part 2

Word Count - 1.4k

A/N - I am...so sorry for this, this could be sadder than my previous fics.

Joel Miller Masterlist

You knew this was too good to be true, things had been going too smoothly since you and your dad had joined your uncle Tommy - Joel having stopped talking to Ellie after their argument. You'd saved a girl younger than you - Abby, her name was - from a horde of infected. You were freezing, the blizzard that had swept through Jackson drastically lowering your body heat, your dad had given you his jacket to try and keep you warm - Even though you were now in your late twenties, Joel was still hellbent on looking after you as though you were still a small child.

You should have trusted your gut instinct, which had told you to take all of Abby's group out. They had acted as though they knew your father and uncle, which then resulted in your leg being shot, and Joel and Tommy both being knocked out.

"Y/N Miller," Abby seethed, crouching down in front of you as she held her gun. You struggled in the grasp of the two men holding you against the window, but you wouldn't have been able to move very much, the makeshift tourniquet tied around the gunshot wound on your leg seriously restricted your movement. You couldn't quite make out the girls face, the place was dark and grim, illuminated by the white glow of the snow outside.

"Do I know you?" You asked her through heaving breaths, your chest rising and falling as you gritted your teeth in pain. She shook her head, you could see tears in her eyes as you looked over her face - Shit. You did know her. Abby Anderson.

Ellie, the hospital, your dad killing the doctors before they could kill Ellie. They were fireflies.

You remembered now. You let out a sigh as you shook your head, giving her a hard glare as your dad and uncle Tommy started to wake up. "Why don't you just give me whatever speech you've been planning and get it over with?" You said, your gaze hardening on the girl in front of you. You let out a scream of pain as they tightened the tourniquet around your leg, the two men beside you letting go of your arms as they fell limply to your sides. The two men moved over to where Joel and Tommy were slowly waking up, they held them back, rendering them unable to move in their tight grip.

You watched in slight fear as she raised a golf club, but you stayed composed, even if you couldn't see how panicked your dad now was. Joel feared for not only his and his brother's lives, but now yours - He knew the girls cause, and you didn't have anything to do with it, it was him that she wanted, not you.

"You stupid bitch," Abby spat at you, pointing the golf club she held tight in her hands at your head. "You don't get to rush this." She told you harshly, giving you no time to react before she swung the golf club at your head, a sickening crack echoing throughout the room as you crumpled to the floor with a pained groan. You couldn't feel your legs any more, and everything felt all muffled, both your sight and hearing.

"No!" Joel cried out, trying to get out of the man who held him's grasp. No. This wasn't happening. You didn't hear your dad and uncle Tommy screaming out for you to keep your eyes open, you were tired. "I'll fucking kill you!" Joel yelled at the women who stood over your limp self, the only showing that you were still alive being your shallow breathing, and your eyes lazily looking up to meet his. Joel could tell that you were tired, watching as your eyes lethargically rolled around, a lazy smile on your face as you met your dad's eyes.

Why was he crying?

You were no longer aware of your situation, your brain slowly shutting down due to the strong blow that had been delivered to your skull.

"Pin him down," Abby ordered, watching as they moved Joel to be laying on his front, kneeling on his neck to make him watch. He felt tears rising as he realised you weren't getting out of this, your blood splattered across the window where you were once kneeling. "I wanna make him watch." She spat, looking down at Joel in spite before she turned back to you, gripping the golf club in her hands tightly.

"No, Y/N, baby, please get up," Joel pleaded with you, he knew that you still had to be in there, despite the blood seeping out from the crack in your skull. "Y/N fucking get up." He cried, now begging you to get up. "Please stop, don't do this, it's not her you want." Joel was no longer begging you, but begging Abby, who held your fate in her hands in the form of a golf club.

Joel's begging fell on deaf ears, as he watched Abby swing her golf club down on your head.

Cracking your skull open with a sickening crunch, which echoed throughout the room - feeling deafening towards your father, it was all he heard, over, and over, and over again.

"No!" He cried, not realising that Tommy had yelled out at the same time at the death of his niece. Joel struggled in the grasps of the men holding him down, watching as your blood dripped from the club "I'm gonna fucking kill you," Joel threatened throughout his sobs, ignoring the man that came towards him, a gun pointed at his head. He just stared at you - laying there, bloodied and lifeless - As if trying to will you to wake up. Everything became muffled to Joel as he continued sobbing, mourning the death of his youngest daughter. He gave one last look towards the woman who had so brutally ended your life, before he was kicked in the face, everything turning to black once more.

He woke up to shaking, his eyes opening to make out the blurry face of his brother, who's face was marked with tear stains after witnessing your traumatizing death.

"Joel," Tommy watched as his older brother finally came around, once more looking over at you. Tommy had moved you away from the pool of your own blood, trying to trick Joel into thinking it wasn't as bad as it looked, going as far to manoeuvre your head to hide the hole in your skull. "Come on, we should go." He advised, helping his brother stand as he limped over to you. Joel held your hand gently, fearing that if he held you too tightly then you would turn to dust - Even though no matter how gently he held your hand, your blood still coated his. Gently, Joel picked your lifeless self up, the way he did when you were a young child at the start of the outbreak.

"I wanna take her back, bury her in Jackson," Joel spoke quietly as he studied your face, stained with blood. Tommy nodded in understanding, he knew Joel had taken Sarah's death badly, but now you were gone too, so he was unsure of how Joel would handle your death. He watched as Joel let out an angry heave. "And them I am gonna kill, every single one of those girls friends, and save her for last."

Tommy couldn't say he had ever been particularly scared of his older brother, but this, this was Joel at his most unhinged. He knew that Joel wouldn't stop until he avenged your death, and that he wouldn't take any prisoners in his quest to avenge you - He would also, show no hesitation in his violence in dealing with them. If they wanted to make your death a brutal one, he could double it.

And make sure it was painful.

Taglist - want to join? fill out this form!

@mrvlxgrl @white-wolf-buckaroo @sunf1owerrq @change-the-world-someday @sleepylunarwolf @mand1ora @kobiiblog @rrickgrrimes8 @wxnderingthoughts​

[cleolinda]

I am so fucking pissed. We’re hearing forecasts that we might get FIVE FUCKING INCHES OF SNOW overnight from Monday to Tuesday. In ALABAMA, where we have no snow removal equipment. Like I think we got one bag of sand for the whole town. No snow tires, I don’t even know what those are. This isn’t cute “Haha it’s just barely below freezing! Snowball fight!!!” snow. This is 14° Fuck (-11° Come the Fuck On) snow. FIVE INCHES? We get flurries and the city descends into madness.

What if we lose POWER. Everything runs off USB cord stuck in the outlet charging nowadays. This is why everyone used to run out and buy Milk Bread Batteries. Listen. I have this memory of the power going out during this wild snowstorm when I was a kid--I want to say it was Winter Storm '93. Ask anyone who lived in Alabama at the time. Like we had Desert Storm '92 the military operation one year and Winter Storm '93 the next. It was that serious in our minds, and I'm not sure you can blame us:

The storm dumped several inches of snow each hour on Birmingham, which ended up with officially 13 inches of snow.

Due to the high winds some parts of Birmingham reported drifts 5 to 6 feet deep. One state trooper reported that the roads were in the worst shape he had ever seen. "People can't tell what's road and what's not."

Low temperatures during the storm were in the 5-to-10 degree range on that Sunday.

IN A TOWN WHERE WE DON'T KNOW WHAT A SNOW PLOW IS. I think we had one for the entire county. Like I'm only kind of joking here.

And our power went out.

The snow was so heavy that it pulled down power lines either by its own weight, or by the tree branches its weight broke off. Meanwhile, the power at my house already went off every time a squirrel sneezed. I don't how many days this lasted; it was probably like, 2-3 days, but in my head, I was 14 years old boxed up with my family with no heat and it lasted two weeks. Maybe three years. The four of us slept in sleeping bags layered with quilts, huddled on the floor around a wood burning fire. (In the haunted house, no less.) The carpet was really nice, at least. We had a--do people still call them boomboxes? A big portable cassette player--battery-powered--with AM/FM radio. We listened to whatever TV shows were broadcast from the ABC station at night. We did have hot water; I took a lot of hot baths. We cooked food over the outdoor grill (which we moved to the comfortably large area under the deck, to hold off the falling snow), sometimes using aluminum foil as a kind of thin impromptu frying pan, and kept perishables like milk and meat in a cooler. Oh, did we have a bag of ice for the cooler? No, we used snow. God knows there was enough of it. Of course, I'm sure the refrigerator was perfectly serviceable even without power, because it was TEN DEGREES FUCK ALL.

I remember going outside a good bit and playing, as much as a teenager plays, in the snow with my seven-year-old sister. I remember that all the neighborhood kids got big rubber trashcan lids and used them as toboggans, going up to the top of the hill on our street and pretty successfully sledding down. Maybe it was "lmao snowball fight!!" snow when I was 14. I'm 45 now, and the cold makes me hurt. It makes me hurt all over. Maybe Winter Storm '24 will be a fun core memory for my nephew. I am pissed. And also charging all my electronics.

(ETA: It’s ‘24 now, isn’t it. My brain hasn’t clicked the date over yet. What is time.)

[pascalsbby]

The Devil & His Brother

Prologue

Joel x Tommy x Reader

Summary: 3K / Joel x Tommy x f!reader

The day he killed you is the day you fell in love with him. You died in his arms, just grateful there was a God, wondering why he was on his knees for you, holding you, after you spent your entire existence denying his very own.

The one in where you fall in love, lust, with both of the Miller boys. But only one can have you. Right?

Series Warnings: 18+ mdni, eventual smut. Outbreak, Jackson, slow-burn, angst/comfort, age gap, power imbalance, possessive tendencies, drugs/pills/alcohol, threesome, major daddy issues (that’s why you need 2 daddies instead of 1). Talk of death, God, the Devil himself. Girlfriend sharing, cuckholding, begging Miller boys. Probably some shared brotherly words of encouragement, voyeurism, age gap, dominate & aggressive, pet names, praise kink, all holes filled <3, ‘he’ talks you through it, tells you what to do.

Unreliable reader for now- uhhh she’s dying.

“I choked / on such longing I couldn't spit out. Yes, desire is so different / when God bore you hungry.”

°:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *₊.• ♡ °:. *₊ ° . ° .• ♡ °:. *₊ ° *

Warm water soothing an aching throat, cold, sweet fingertips from cherry seeds staining white napkins. His fingerprints burned into your core. Deep red in the corners of your wet mouth, dripping down the side of the horse, painting the snow carmine. The baritone of his voice shaking through the pool of blood, “What’a shame. Hell, woulda made a pretty wife.”

The sweetest part of a cherry is its heart. Suckling, rolling, and removing the fine skin with your teeth. Your skull hitting the ground. Red. You’re scared you’ll choke on it, but you don’t spit it out. You can’t. The sweetness is gone and you’ve accidentally bit your tongue.

The splitting of cherry skin, from teeth to skull. Loud, thunderous around the sound of cicadas screa- no, singing you a lullaby. Hips, swaying.

God humming.

It’s darker now, you can hear the thud of hooves imprinting the cold, every single movement screaming through your being. You were sat atop stretched denim over thick thighs, rugged and hot against the freezing expanse of your exposed skin.

They leave most of themselves behind- stem, seed, head, heart- the cherries. Sacrilegious-ly religious-ish. Or something. Had you known religion? Starstuff sounded better than dirt. Would you die from the gunshot wound or the cold, first?

No. But anything stands in for a cross, especially when he’s sitting there above you vertically, heart opened horizontally. He was looking down upon you, holding you against his body. Floating.

You’re warm, you’re warm, finally you’re—

And your body slackens as your brain does too, from him. From the ground, the sky, the back of this horse. Blue, blue- black. The last rising of your chest, cold air running through the sharp pains in your throat. Mouth dry, silent, slack.

Was this the dust part? You don’t want to say good night to the moon, so you you look up at her and make eye contact with her comforting stare- and you don’t blink- because blinking is returning to the looming darkness. Blinking is allowing the night to take you. The warmth from his body upon yours, melting your body into the ground. The moon is so bright.

And she looks down upon you and whispers, “I’ve got you bunny - I’ll hold your hand and you just think about those stars. How pretty they look right now- jus’ for you.” Even the moon sounded like him.

“We’ll be home soon, baby.” He pleaded.

Home.

A scream. Not one of terror, one of defeat- desperation. Vilely testing through the back of his throat.

A release… comfort.

A death.

Your own.

He was supposed to save you. He was like water- quenching and soothing your aching throat before you drown in it.

Fire, warming you- before burning you alive.

Tears releasing, falling, leaving- before the pain in the back of your throat, slithering to your jaw.

The day he killed you is the day you fell in love with him. You died in his arms, just grateful there was a God, wondering why he was on his knees for you, holding you, after you spent your entire existence denying his very own.

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Three resounding gunshots bounced off the distant hills, the thick snow-covered ground. The sound carrying its ominous message far and wide while the silence that followed bore witness to the weight of their deadly intent. Feet, crushing the crystals against the Earth, running from your falling body, rather than to. More than just a pair, moving in the apposite direction. Smaller, smaller, gone.

One sound traveled further, still quivering in your ears, kissing the air around your body as the bullet made a home in you. Your own death tearing from your mouth into the now, quiet, night. Even the cicadas had stopped howling, feeling the force of yours as it tore through your stomach, out of the back of your throat. You rested your head upon the soil and suddenly the ocean was inside of your ears. The mumbling of hurried male voices, anger, present.

The ground was holding you, and it was so cold.

"Mierda,” another beings voice stuck in the thick air, furious at his God. "What the fuck are you doing?”

Their identical voices now filled with resentment, clashed, and you felt like an intruder in your own death. You hadn’t excepted it, but they had. And God was speaking again “- ‘till you return to the ground, for out of it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.” He was blessing you before fate found death and invited her in.

His boots reached your ears last. He was immense, expansive- held shoulders that could carry you to safety, if he so pleased. But he didn’t. You don’t know why God chose today as the day you were going to die… why he was lying about it to one of his most loyal servants. He had shot you. His eyes were the first thing you’d had seen as soon as the barrel of his gun lowered behind the bushes.

You had wished for death so many times, it was almost a relief that this, was it. There was nothing reaching around inside of you pulling your organs closer to the ground. Even though that’s where we mostly end up these days— in ash. Burned, split into stardust. Or thrown on top of each other in endless pits, burned to Earth once more. Entering the world is painful enough. Why can’t we exit it peacefully?

Maybe this was peaceful enough. You were lucky he was here to take you home. Even in his hesitancy. Even in your own confusion as to why he had to take you right now. You’d been alone for three years before this moment. Yes, you were grateful it was him.

It could have been his brother, instead.

But you’d been a good girl, you knew you wouldn’t be meeting the Devil anytime soon.

He wasn’t in a hurry walking towards you, no. The ground was moving under your ear as he disturbed the dirt with the fist of his boot. You had been looking at him the entire time, sideways, face pushed into the dirt where you landed. Your body felt the presence of his before he was back in your eyesight, and suddenly you knew you needed to move. Your mind had accepted death, but your body hadn’t. He could shoot you again, put you out of your misery. But you were too far away from where you wanted to perish. The graves of your family, too far away. It’s too soon to die, please let me get to my family first.

Even God does what he needs to survive his guilt.

There was no remorse in the way his arm slung over the gun, beading sweat running towards whatever it could caress, his other arm resting beside him. He was sturdy, infinite as he rose closer… he knew he was successful in his attempt. His entire figure blurred as tears rolled horizontally down your face. He wasn’t worried that he’d killed you- that was his goal. He was worried you weren’t dead. And that just wouldn’t do.

His overworked cowboy boots were standing before you, kicking up ground into the dusk. His heals clicking louder, shotgun returned to his hand and pointed towards you; he locked his eyes into yours with an unnervingly malevolent gaze. It hurt to move, so you didn’t. You could hear him breathing, wondering for how long you’d be doing the same. At least you were leaving at the hands of God- not from the mouth of a Clicker.

How do they feel dying? Someone had told you a long time ago about how they’re still conscious up there, through it all- taking over the functions and body but leaving the brain to feel. Relief then, probably. To finally return to the ground with their brothers and sisters, not caring if it takes fire and gasoline, and his hands around your neck. You were okay with death if it meant never ending up even further caged inside your own brain. Or the end up in the act of taking someone else’s.

You whimpered at him, unable to move anything but your eyes, so you bore into his. He must have somehow set you on fire, your body scorching and reaching for air as he looked over you. You saw God in just the creases of his eyes— they smile, adorning his warm skin. The wrinkles whispering love songs to the skin they get closer to. “I am moving with you (time)((love)).” Age. Speckled. Small spots turning into stars in a night sky.

His irises were warm, far away, like he’s looked death in face, shaken its hand and kissed it better- and failed, mercilessly. Big and brown, eating away at your flesh. They were so sad, but not for your fate. They were sad that your fate had to be the same as the people he’d lost before. The ones you had lost. How everyone goes these days. He was sad it all turned out this way.

You knew in that moment that he’d seen this before- death. Of course he had. At his age, brows furrowing and light speckled against the darkness of his beard. The creases in his face softened as he looked into you.

He’s seen this before- a young girl bleeding out into the red dirt, fading, whispering away from a dying world. You stare up at him, knowing he is waiting for a response that you didn’t have. Spare me, you thought. His thick fingers curled around the base of his weapon and his knuckles turned white beneath the dried blood and dryer skin. He was contemplating. He was trying to forget.

Your own blood pooling, his knees cracked as he bent down to get a closer look. You felt yourself slipping as his fingers brushed over your skin in an understanding nod.

“I know it hurts, baby.” You may not be able to feel another’s hands, soon. You were weeping. “But I ain’t gonna hurt you sweet thing. Stay still.” The last bit a demand, rather than a suggestion.

He took in your form as your own blood cooled beneath you. He was making a decision. Suddenly, his face pained, burrowing the depth of his pain between his eyebrows. Were you praying to him? Screaming his name in vain? Begging for forgiveness?

He held his hand over you, pausing before reaching you and sinking his fingertips to your flesh, feeling. In the same motion, he lifted your shirt, brushing his knuckles across your side. You felt it. Deep.

He moved on to the legs of your pants, searching for the exact entry point. You wailed when his fingers danced on top of your skin. Eventually losing patience, he flattens his massive hand flesh to you, and slides his hands up your body. There it was, right above your hip bone on your left side. You were going to die. You, now covering him, seeping warmth into the cracks of his skin. Your DNA fusing into his. Your throat hoarse.

He stared down at you for a moment before he let out a sigh and picked you up, grunting at the weight of another human in his arms. He laid you on his lap and you stayed, languidly, letting him do as he pleases. It’s not as if you were really feeling much besides the consistent fire kissing your veins. The very veins that are bleeding onto his lap, seeping into his own cuts- you found yourself contemplating, hoping, there was still more seats left in the Heaven at his feet.

“Shhh, relax baby, stay still. Gonna be j’us fine sweet thing. Patchin’ you up. Gonna find the rest of ‘em then we’ll get somewhere safe, okay? Sun’s settin’. Need you to be still.” He hurried through his words, looking around for who could be inviting themselves into the party after hearing you struggle. He reached for a knife in his pocket and you let out another wail. He winced at its power and tore his sleeve from his shirt, securing and adding pressure ever so slightly to your side.

Them?

“This wasn’t supposed to happen, fuck.” He yelled another man’s name and then he was chanting quickly under his breath, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” He was doing a sour attempt at controlling his bodily reaction to you as you lie over his lap, soaking his denim in your blood.

As the seconds ticked by, you felt a surreal detachment from the world around you, his cooing voice seemed to slip from your grasp, as if you were drifting away from reality. It was peaceful, until it wasn’t. He was attempting to move you. The sun was setting. For the last time.

“Look how fuckin’ young she is Tommy.” And then another Angel appeared. He was angry as he looked down upon you, but it wasn’t directed towards you. He must have seen it in your eyes, death. “We got you baby. Settle down.” The voice was solid and clear, unlike the other. This was the person he was yelling for.

“I didn’t fuckin’ do it Tommy. I didn’t.” There was pain in his voice. Anger. God spoke and you thought maybe another bullet had entered your skin. You screamed like it had and the warmth spread.

Suddenly God wasn’t as he appeared before. His blood-red appearance contrasted sharply with the angelic figure beside him, his heat poured over your being as the Angel standing next to him wept; both of whom seemed strangely familiar to each other, though not to you. Their faces were disappearing into themselves, blurring.

He sneered into you and you felt it vibrate your bones. Looking as if he was laughing. Or maybe he was screaming. Everything, you, are fading at this point. The caress of the sky, humming lullabies into your hair.

His drawl sounds oddly beautiful running from the tip of his teeth, touching tongue, to the hot mid-July dusk; the mosquitoes riding around on droplets of wet dampenings- the sound settling at the base of your eardrum and running like water towards your center. Than towards your hip bones. He looked different now as he sang you to sleep, brushing his thick, callused fingers down the side of your face, nook of your neck, clearing it from the dirt that has already made a home in your skin. Your matted hair sticking to drying lips, yours.

You needed to focus on something- the slick of his mouth, lips, opening. Tongue running outwards until his teeth bit down. He runs his flattened fingertips against your scalp, trying to calm the pain of fading from the world. He had a mustache, graying facial hair. He was haunting.

There was nowhere else to look, his form hovered above you in contemplation.

Gazing upon him was like glimpsing a celestial being. Maybe the sun, itself, coming down to Earth to scorch it anew. He was red. Fire. He was melancholy, sadness, and so goddamn pretty.

He wasn’t God. He was Lucifer himself- a morning star. Light-bringer. Life-taker. Eenie meanie mini mo. He was heralding the dawn.

The other one, who at first you thought was Angel, must be God. He was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. But there was something about the one that almost smiled like the Devil. The one cast in red. The one who killed you. Amidst the echoes of their argument, you couldn't help but wonder if there was more to their anger than just the fact that the pretty one had shot you.

Amidst the confusion and pain, you heard distant voices calling out to you. The words sounded far away, as if you were standing three rooms away, ear against the door.

“Hey-“ it sounded closer now, coming from the emitting light. “Gonna hold you tight now Bunny, don’t move.”

He’s gone, the warmth from his fingertips has set in on their initial touch, burning heat like vines across your arm, stomach. Each bite individually riding its way towards your ears, body, core. You’re put atop something hard. In. Out. Holding less air than the lowered clouds in front of you.

Fire kissing at your stomach, making you wonder if it was from where his hand was sprawled, lower, pushing, hoisting your legs upwards, carefully unto another warm being- a horse.

You were too tired to keep your eyes open. So you closed them and softly said goodbye to yourself. The only words you had spoken, and no one has heard them. They were just for you.

As you close your eyes and slide further into the darkness, you find it almost humorous, the entire story of your death.

Sure, no one told you God was a cowboy, but they never mentioned the Devil was, too. And it seemed a lot more people had met the Devil. Including you.

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A/N: Thank you to everyone who commented on the intro post. Please let me know what you think 🥹 smut happening… SOON! Y’all mean the world!!

Tag List: @worhols @mishasminion360 @justagalwhowrites @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @romanarose @milla-frenchy @bandluvr97 @alwaysdjarin @basicoccult @hellfyreroz @northernbluess @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pr0ximamidnight @bambydxll @morgaussy @n7cje @theywhowriteandknowthings @gracie7209 @pedritoferg @twirl731 @med494 @k-ra @megangovier20 @rayslittlekitten @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @gintheginger @obscurexsorrows @cool-iguana @livingdeadmaria @ours-is-a-strange-fate @sarap-77

[greetingfromthedead]

Shepherd Story 2 (God!Knives x F!Reader)

Plot: In a world where fallen gods live among you, there is the god of winter and death who is also eternally bound to you with body and soul. The time has come for him to visit you again.

Series: Shepherd. Check out Story 1 and Story 3!

Pairing: God!Knives x F!Reader

Raiting: NSFW!! 18+!! R!! Explicit!! Minors DNI

Tags: fantasy!AU, god!AU, no use of "y/n", smut (I just got carried away in the beginning), established relationship, gods, feathery plant, fated love, romance, legends, nature magic, reunion, intimacy, possessive behavior, tenderness, some fluff, body worship, light bondage, vaginal fingering, oral f receiving, hand job, p in v sex

Word count: 4k

Author's Note: This is a continuation of Shepherd. This story is inspired by @triplesilverstar's god!AU. There isn't much lore here, but I already have ideas for a 3rd installment. This AU will rot my brain out.

The cycle is nearly complete again. The summer heat caressed your cheeks, and the trees took on a yellow hue. This body had not felt the heat of midsummer or seen the different colors of nature. Despite living in the south, the creeping winter lasting 50 years still left its mark. But you remember from all your past lives the changing seasons that seemed to last forever. You don't miss the sunny days or the shades of spring. You welcome the falling leaves and the chilly northern winds, for they are brought on by something more precious.

The song of your heart has gotten louder and louder as the weeks have passed, and the familiar restlessness of your ancient soul has been tugging you towards the dark forests surrounding your home. But you know there is no need to go; you are found, and the melody echoing from your chest will always guide him back to you without fault.

You look up from your workbench as the silent whine of ice forming touches your ears. He is here. The god of winter and death has arrived, greeting you with breathtaking bouquets of frosted flowers covering your windows. They glimmer in the last rays of daylight as you set aside your book and rise to meet him.

You open your front door into the frigid evening air. It is snowing again, just like last time, and once again, you see him approaching from the edge of the forest. This time he isn't frozen over, his beautiful feathery wings trailing behind him with soft rustling. His ice cold eyes are on you, but tonight they don't nail you to your spot with terror. In them, you recognize the hundreds of lifetimes you've lived, your love reaching back to times so old that even the stories from it have died.

"I've been waiting for you, Beloved," you say as you step off your doorstep onto the freezing pathway. The frost brought on by his presence melts under your bare feet, and it gets colder with every step you take towards him.

"I've been yearning for you, my love," he replies, his steely gaze looking through this mortal body of yours and only seeing the soul he fell in love with millennia ago. "I patiently waited for the day to lay my eyes on you once again."

"Come now; I have something of yours." You reach out your hand with a smile to invite him to take it. He closes the distance and traces his digits along the lines of your open palm. His cold touch chills the blood in your veins, but just for a moment. His fingers find the spaces between yours, intertwining effortlessly as if they were always meant to be there. With that, the markings covering his body light up with a dim blue light. The sight only lasts for a few seconds before the patterns disappear again.

"As always, I thank you, sweet Shepherd, for keeping it safe." His voice is quiet and soothing, painting images of snow covered meadows and peaceful forests in your mind. He presses your hand to the middle of his chest, where you feel his heart awakening. The beat hastens as he holds your gaze. "You consume me. I dream of you every hour of every day."

His fingers let go of yours to trace along your bare forearms. You don't even notice the cold anymore as his touch leaves burning trails in its wake. You lean in closer, unable to resist the pull of his soul.

"For tonight, I am not a mere dream. I am yours to hold, and we have a lot of time to make up for, darling." You reach out your free hand to touch his sharp jaw line and feel the warmth emanating from his skin. The god bows his head to you as his lips find yours. It fills you with euphoria, reaching into the farthest corners of your being. Your heart beats like a wardrum, echoing the sounds of times past. His arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him as he leans you back. His kiss acting as a wordless prayer.

The snowflakes gently falling from the heavens land on your face like delicate touches, and the feeling of them melting on your skin lingers for long after they are gone. His stiff hands clutch tightly at your waist and lift you up from the ground. Your palms find balance on his broad shoulders. His sharp gaze looks up into your dumbfounded face as he carries you back to your cottage. A familiar feathery tendril slinks out from between his mass of wings and gently brushes against your cheek, drying up the wetness left there by the thawing snow. You lift one arm from his body to touch the tendril and let it slip through your fingers.

He sets you down as he reaches the doorway and lets you guide him inside, where his presence fills the small room with shadows. The door can barely shut behind him as you feel more soft touches trail along your skin. You recognize them as the slim helping limbs, and you feel two of them trying to slink their way under your blouse. His large hands land on your hips as you feel him press against your back. He leans down and whispers in your ear, "You fill me with desire and make me lose my mind. I am nothing more than a pathetic and weak man in your presence. My thoughts focused on every way to please you. I crave your touch and long for the warmth of your body."

His hands travel around you, pushing the thin fabric of your top with them, baring your skin around your waist. You feel the contour of his muscles against you and the warmth of his cheek pressing into yours. His fingers start to undo the buttons as a hand slithers underneath to dance along your bare skin.

"I come like a rabid dog to your doorstep, a starved animal desperate for the smallest particle of your affection. I come with my teeth bared and my chest full of longing. You have me crawling in desperate devotion for you." His voice cuts like a knife into your hazing thoughts.

"You're a god," you remind him as he opens the front of your blouse.

"And I am powerless in your glory." His hot breath touches your skin at the base of your neck, and his lips trail down your shoulder.

Both of his hands travel along your figure, exploring every curve and crevice with hunger. A few of his tendrils sneak under your skirts, caressing along your legs up to your thighs. Your hands cover his as his long fingers press into the supple flesh of your breasts. The creeping feathers lick over the hot core between your legs. Your breathing gets heavier as his hands get rougher, and his kisses are replaced by sharp teeth trailing over your skin. A shiver runs along your spine as he makes his way up your neck.

He whispers into your ear as the tip of his nose digs into your helix. "Will you allow me to be reminded of your sweetness? So it can turn to bitter longing when we are apart?"

You swallow hard, and he doesn't wait for your response. He turns you around, and his lips find yours in a searing kiss. His hands push off the garment, still trapping your arms, and the tendrils pull down your underwear. He guides you backwards, and you can only take a few strides across the little room until the edge of your workbench digs into the back of your thighs. He effortlessly lifts you onto the edge and settles between your legs. His fingers frame your face as he kisses you deeply, his tongue exploring every corner of your mouth. Your hands travel along his body to undo the clasp of his robe on his shoulder and let it fall between your bodies. Your fingers trail down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. As he leans in closer, his breath hot against your neck, you feel a shiver run down your spine. The anticipation builds as he whispers his desires in your ear, sending a hot wave into our belly.

Your arms reach around him, and your digits find where the wings meet his back. Your fingers are grabbing onto the mighty and soft bases as his kisses move along your neck, leaving you softly moaning as his hands caress you. Some of his tendrils have moved on to peel back the layers of your skirts, carefully bunching them up onto your lap and holding them there. The god's tender hand runs along your thigh, and two more tendrils appear to weave around your ankles and calves. His touch moves closer to the heat emanating from your longing sex.

The little helping limbs pull your legs apart for him to run his thumb along your wet slit. His fingers expertly tease your folds. With each gentle stroke, you feel yourself surrendering to the pleasure he effortlessly evokes. More tendrils appear that wrap themselves tenderly around your form. They hold you securely in place as the god's touch becomes more intense, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You can't help but arch your back and moan softly as he continues. His lips move down from your collarbone and skip over the tendril making its way to your neck. He focuses on the space between your breasts before picking one and lapping at the hardening bud in the center. The feathers tickle you gently and help to keep you up as his looming form forces you backward. A finger presses its way through your entrance, and the juices gush onto his hand. The god groans against your skin, and you can feel the vibration all throughout your body. His digit is quickly followed by a second one as they start to stretch and explore your inner walls, seeking out every sensitive spot within you. The sensation of his fingers moving inside you, combined with the soft feathers caressing your skin, sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, leaving you breathless and wanting more. His kisses move down along your sternum, and two tendrils make you release the wings on his back that you had held on to with all your might. Finally free from your grip, he can lower himself to the floor. He looks up at you from between your legs before turning to brush his lips along your inner thigh.

His mouth finds its way to your throbbing clit, his tongue flicking and circling with precision. The sensation is overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy. The tendrils tighten their grip further as your body jerks, and your belly contracts in anticipation. His tongue buries into your folds as he laps up your desire for him. Strangled cries and whimpers escape your throat as he keeps you teetering on the edge of climax, prolonging the exquisite torture. The little feathery limbs around your wrists let go to allow you to lace your fingers into his pale blonde hair and pull on it. The fingers of his free hand dig into your hip with enough fierceness to leave marks. The other hand pumps into you with curled digits. With a final flick of his tongue, you shatter into a million pieces, your body convulsing with pleasure as you ride the waves of climax.

He doesn't stop yet, his tongue replacing the fingers he pulled from you, drinking up every spilled drop like a dying man presented with the fountain of immortality. Both his hands hold on to your hips, pulling you closer as you slowly come down from the initial high, but his actions still cloud your mind with pleasure.

His face pulls away from you, and you get to see his adoring eyes look up at you. This gaze is yours alone; no other soul is privy to it. His one. His only. Despite the soft nature of his expression, his lips aren't graced with a smile; an iciness fit for the god of winter lingers there. You know this face too well; it's nothing more than a mask, trying to hide his inpatient intentions. As he rises up to stand before you, the distance grows enough for you to bask in the glory of his form. You see the sparse little feathers growing by the collarbones, his wide and muscular chest, now bare for you since his flowy white robe hangs from his hips. Yet the layers of fabric are not able to hide his desire for you.

As he steps closer, he relieves his body from the garment and lifts you up from the wooden surface with the tendrils to remove your skirts leaving you as naked as the day you were born. He presses himself between your legs as he lowers you down again and you wrap yourself around him, your feet locking together on his ass. His cheek presses against yours, his warm breath tickling your neck as his hands stroke your sides. You enjoy his closeness, and the slight tickling makes you look down. You feel his hard length press against you, but as you look, you see the tip poke out between your bellies. It leaves a wet spot on your skin. You scoot your ass back enough to fit your hand between your bodies.

You touch your own dripping sex first, collecting some of the slick on your digits before capturing his shaft and starting to run your palm along the length of it before wrapping your fingers around it. You continue to stroke him firmly, feeling him twitch in your hand. With every pass, your thumb strokes over the tip, and his heavy breath caresses your ear as silent moans threaten to escape him. Your other hand holds on to his hair as you continue your steady pace. He arches his back and lets out a low groan of pleasure as you twist your hand around him, and the sound turns into a growl as he nips at your ear. You know he is at his wit's end, unable to control himself any longer. You release the vice like grip of your legs, and he knows to lean back. You run his sensitive tip through your folds before lining him up at your entrance. You are dripping in anticipation, and he can slowly sink into your heat as the walls clamp down around him. You let out a soft moan as he fills you completely.

His hips start to move in shallow thrusts as your fingers grip his hair and feathers. His panting lips move to your throat, forcing your head back, but the pleasure is too much to keep your eyes open anyway. You let yourself enjoy the overwhelming sensation. He grinds himself to the bottom of your well, hitting that spot inside you that makes you tighten your legs around him. You feel the tendrils around you come to life again with new vigor as they strangle your torso and opening your legs wider for him. You are too bound by him to do much of anything except moan with overwhelming pleasure towards the heavens. You are completely lost in the moment, surrendering yourself to his every touch. Your mind is consumed with desire, and your body aches for more.

As if sensing your despair, he increases the intensity of his movements—no longer shallow thrusts but deep, powerful strokes that send waves of delight through every fiber of your being. His teeth graze your skin as his lips move hungrily against the skin of your neck. He relishes the vibrations escaping your throat, his hands grabbing you tight and pulling you closer to him.

You quiver around him as your body tightens in pleasure, every nerve ending on fire with lust. His pace has turned into a frantic pounding as he drives deep into you. The small room is filled with a symphony of your voices, moaning in unison to the building crescendo of ecstasy.

The coil that has been tightening with every thrust of your lover finally releases, sending you over the edge into a state of pure bliss. You call out his name as your body convulses around him, tripping him too over the verge of climax. He fills you with warmth as your pulsing milks him. You feel yourself spilling over as your hands release their tight grip on him. You go boneless as the last of the intense pleasure washes over and retreats. You are kept up by his strong arms and tendrils wrapped around you. His lips move down to your chest, where he leaves more of his burning kisses as you still feel him panting against your skin. You are so entangled in him, you aren't sure where he ends and you start.

The tendril that has been around your neck like a necklace slithers away and is replaced by the god of death's long fingers. He squeezes just enough to slightly restrict your airway, making your heavy breath hitch in your throat. He kisses the edge of your jaw, and you turn your burning gaze on him. What you wouldn't give to crawl out of this mortal body and return to the time where you had no need for it. You curse the gods who turned you this way, forcing the two of you to hold back every step of the way. Your love transcends the limitations set by this meek form. You don't want him to be vigilant about your weak body; you want the love you make to thunder across the land with the strength of a thousand storms. You want him to stay. Yet he will bring death even to you if he lingers too long. You grab hold of his chin and move his lips to yours so your tongue can taste the sweetness of his mouth. A groan escapes him as his other hand pulls on your lower back, pressing you even closer to him. You are left gasping and desperate for more.

His fingers release you again, and he grabs hold of your hips. There is no chance of you sliding away from his grasp, as he holds you both with his strong arms and the tendrils woven around you. He picks you up from the workbench and heads to where he knows your bed to be. You can still feel him inside you, as he never pulled away far enough from your body to break that bond. As he steps into the shimmering moonlight, he stops. Long shadows are painted on his skin, and his pale blue eyes glimmer, reminding you of ice crystals, making him appear otherworldly.

"My gorgeous nymph, beautiful as the day I first saw you," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You know his calm demeanor hides a raging fire just beneath the surface. You know you are the moth to his flame, and you cannot resist being drawn closer to him, even though you know it will eventually consume you.

"My Beloved." You whisper back, your hands cradling his face.

He doesn't linger by the window any longer but continues onward to your bed. He turns and stretches out his enormous wings before sitting down and situating you on his lap, your legs kneeling to either side of his thighs as you are spread out for him again.

He looks up at your face, the ancient fire you share burning in both of your gazes. The storming of your soul against the confines of your human body is a tempest, spilling over into his soul.

"I want to lay waist to their domain, to set fire to their realm, where they look down upon us, until their marble stairs melt away. I want to make them grovel and beg for forgiveness at your feet for the shackles they have placed upon you. Let me seek justice the only way I know how. Tell me to go to war, Shepherd!"

"You will lose without your heart, and I refuse to give it back," you say with a tone that won't allow him to argue. Instead, you put your hands on his shoulders and grind your hips into his lap.

You feel his breath shudder for a moment before his hands run up your body, cupping your breasts as you lean back. The need grows again, fed by the flames of your love, as you roll your hips against his, feeling the heat between you intensify. His lips find yours, and you lose yourself in the passion of the moment. You feel him hardening inside you again, aching for more. His fingers dance over your sensitive skin as the tendrils retreat, and he gives you full control over your body again. Your movements grow bolder as he swells inside you. Soon enough, you find yourself feverishly riding him, unable to hold back any longer. He uses the tendrils to move the both of you further onto the bed without disturbing your bouncing. You force him onto his back as you continue to rock your hips against his with a passion that consumes you both. Any attempt to prolong the moment is futile, as the sight of him relishing in your beauty is intoxicating. His fingers dig into your thighs as he starts to buck up into you with an urgency that matches your own. A tendril pushes against the tender bundle of nerves to brush against it. There is time for tenderness later. For now, you are a wildebeest in heat, desperate for his touch and his seed. You are lost in the moment, consumed by the age-old desire between you.

As your bodies move in perfect synchronization, the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you in a whirlwind of passion. The intensity builds until it reaches its peak, leaving you breathless and completely enraptured by him. As you collide into him, he pulls you in for a breathless and passionate kiss that leaves you wanting more. He wraps you in his wings as he turns and pins you underneath him. The god still looks ravenous as he pulls away from you and continues to grind his hips against yours. He kisses the deepest part of you, and it makes you whine out his name until you're begging for him to never stop.

Chasing one release after the other, you are soon spent, your body exhausted and limp, yet your soul begs him to keep going. The night goes by with him mapping your body with his blazing lips and exploring every inch of your skin with his fingertips, leaving you breathless and thinking you might die in the arms of the god of winter and death.

As the sun begins to kiss the tops of the trees, you find yourself tangled in his embrace, feeling a sense of completeness and contentment. You know the time has come again for him to leave your side, but for a little bit, the yearning in the pit of your stomach has found its fill. You know you will see him again as another cycle of nature reaches its end, and until then, you have a job to do.

The bittersweet goodbye stings your heart as his lips linger on yours for longer than they need, his fingers gripping your waist tightly, a rigidity in his body betraying the calm facade he's trying to maintain. As he pulls away, your loving gaze meets his stern eyes. Your thumb trails over the beauty mark on his cheek, a moment of silent understanding passing between you. You know he has no desire to leave, yet he must rip himself from the beautiful dream that is your embrace.

"I will wait for you, my darling," you whisper into his ear before placing a last kiss on his cheek.

"And I will return to you, forever and always," he promises before turning away from you with sorrow in his eyes. "Keep it safe for me, sweetling."

Check out Story 1 and Story 3!

"Foolish man, that's why I don't give it back." You chuckle lightly and watch him silently walk across the frosted yard to disappear before daylight floods his path.

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