#in which Dream discovers he's touch starved as fuck

[amielot]

Touch starved.

[avonne-writes]

NSFW headcanons: John and Gale's fantasies and kinks (HS AU)*

*non-exhaustive list 😉

1. In high school

John

A lot of his fantasies are centered around sports. Having sex in the locker room after a game when everything smells like sweat, sports equipment and grass. Getting off under the bleachers. Fucking Gale while Gale's wearing his soccer jersey, going down on Gale and tracing the tan line drawn by Gale's swim trunks with his lips.

He’s also into exhibitionism and fantasizes about doing it in all sorts of public places, like in a park or at school. He wants to be recorded too. He might even convince Gale to let him take a video of Gale's hand as he gives him a handjob.

Speaking of handjobs, he loves Gale's slender but strong hands, he loves holding them, playing with them, sucking on Gale’s fingers, having them squeeze Bucky's neck/thighs/shoulders. He imagines all sorts of wild fantasies involving those hands.

He has a fantasy of being a sex god or sex android - basically, just being impossibly good at sex - having insane stamina and knowing how to do things just right without ever even having sex. While touching himself in the shower, he often imagines Gale buying him in some sci-fi universe and him blowing Gale's mind with his extraordinary performance.

Gale

Teen Gale doesn’t even have the slightest clue that these things might be related, but he fantasizes about: having sex in complete darkness, being wrapped in latex except for key body parts, giving a blowjob while covered by a blanket, being separated from his lower half by a wall so that he can’t anticipate what's coming, having sex in space... These are all facets of the sensory deprivation kink he discovers later, when he's much older.

He dreams of having sex in the wilderness, in forests, lakes or meadows. The sense of serenity and freedom really appeals to him. When this fantasy collides with Bucky's exhibitionism and their camping trip during the summer between high school and college, they attempt a blowjob in the forest.

Gale likes biting, both being bitten and marked up and doing it himself. There’s a phase in their relationship when he and Bucky are constantly at it, leaving hickeys and bite marks everywhere until it gets too embarrassing. Gale enjoys the idea that someone wants him enough to be possessive with him.

Teen Gale is also very love-starved, so no matter how dirty or wild his fantasies become while he’s jerking off, just before he comes, his mind often jumps to the idea of making love. To casual, regular sex - actually, often outright marital sex. Having a husband and having sex with him is a peak fantasy for him.

They both have an authority kink from opposite sides of the coin, so it works out perfectly, but they keep this in their own fantasies until college. Bucky wants to be a good boy and be of service, Gale likes to be called sir, he likes to tease and feel needed. Calling each other daddy is a squick for them though.

2. Later life

Authority kink (see above). They do this kind of power play frequently just before their conflict at 30 gets bad.

Sensory deprivation for Gale: he loves everything ranging from shimmying under the blanket to give Bucky a blowjob to headphones+blindfold+being told not to move. Also likes temperature play and mild tickling.

Bucky definitely gets his soccer jersey fantasy fulfilled and probably some others too. Sports continue to arouse him and give him dirty ideas.

From his mid-twenties, Bucky starts developing a breeding kink, which gets increasingly stronger over the years. Talks about it a lot during sex, but when they start fighting about having kids together, Gale stops letting him do it.

As a combination of the sensory kink and his domesticity kink, Gale loves sex when they don’t say anything to each other because they're comfortable and know each other enough that they don’t need words.

They also start roleplaying regularly, which is a fun way to spice up their sex life and to pretend that they've had sex with other people too, not just each other.

[bangrychannie]

Stray Kids Fic Recs-Demons

Hello! It is time for another group of fic recs, this time anything related to demons (ex. succubi and former "imaginary friends")! Demon summoning is one of my fav tropes so again if you have any recs that aren't on this list send them my way! Mostly Minsung with some others

My other fic rec lists:

Misc

Time Loop

Angst free

let me wrap the chains by saru (Minsung | 1/1 | 23,164 | explicit)

Pressure at the foot of the bed makes the mattress dip, and Jisung experiences what can only be described as waking up into a dream. His brain, foggy with short-lived and restless sleep, registers a number of things that might not make total sense but are received as facts, regardless: there’s a hand tugging at the waistband of his underwear, a pair of knees bracketing his own, and the distinct smell of fire in the air. In the darkness of his room, ruby red eyes trail up Jisung’s body before locking on his own. — or, Jisung’s late-night visitor turns out to not be quite as imaginary as he originally thought.

I love the world building in this one!

amber of ember by adisadatra (Minsung | 1/1 | 21,941 | Explicit)

Minho is tired. He’s so, so tired, and he’s felt unsafe in his own life since the day he discovered Seojoon and his lover in his bed. At work, in Minho’s flat, at his favourite park with the hideous fountain, he’s always listening for footsteps behind him, braced for impact and seeing danger everywhere with his nerves feeling peeled raw. He’s spiralling downward, he knows he is, and he’s not even sure what’s real anymore. Making a deal with a demon isn’t the worst-case scenario right now.

I loved this one! Basically Minho has a creepy ex and makes a deal with a demon (Jisung) to get revenge

above the trees by tentoheaven (Binsung | 1/1 | 30,245 | Explicit)

Changbin stares at him, still struggling to take in all of his features. It’s incredible how someone can look so different, yet still completely unchanged. “Jisung?” Part of him still holds onto the belief that the man will frown, maybe laugh mockingly, maybe ask ‘who the fuck is Jisung?’ and leave. Changbin isn’t sure whether that would be worse than the alternative. (Or: ten years after his abrupt disappearance, Changbin’s imaginary friend barges back into his life—not human, but very much real.)

I loved Changbin and Jisung's dynamic in this one! Minor 2min as well which is super cute

god knows we're lonely souls by flying_dream (Minchan | 3/3 | 34,864 | Mature)

Chan is a touch-starved producer. Minho is a sleep paralysis demon who has never known affection. They're not in love - they barely even know each other - but somehow they manage to make it work.

This is for sure my favorite on this list, if you only read one read this one!

exception has been thrown by the target of an invocation by yamesungie (Minsung | 1/1 | 4862 | Explicit)

format-default : Exception has been thrown by the target of an invocation. “What the fuck do you mean, invocation? Am I coding or playing D&D? Do I have to roll a d20? Do a blood offering?” “Invocation is another term for a method call, you can thank me later.” “Hey, I was joking, I already-” knew that. Wait, what the- Jisung lets out a blood curdling scream and almost falls out of his chair as he turns his face away from his screen. The man standing next to him stares at him, arms crossed and an amused grin on his face. “What the fuck are you doing in my apartment?” "I feed off humans' lust, anguish and despair. It’s only natural I choose to target software developers past their bedtime, right?" (or: Jisung is a software developer on the verge of a mental breakdown, Minho is the incubus who visits him at 1am.)

Super silly concept and a short and sweet fic

How I Met My Demon by alcrox (Jeongsung | 1/1 | 17,447 | Explicit)

“Well, to my utter surprise, no demons were summoned,” proclaims Jisung dramatically. Now that the shooting is nearing its end, he feels decidedly more chipper. Less faking it. “Fuck you too, demons.” He swipes a broad hand over the glitter, messing it up even more. It looks like there has been a bloodbath in the room, only the blood is shiny and glittery and sticks everywhere. “Now-” “I swear to hell, what is your problem?” Jisung jumps. Violently.

5 times Jisung summons a demon and 1 time he doesn’t.

Where Jisung is a youtuber and summons a demon as a joke. Love this one!!

And that's all I have for demon fics! Like I said before if you have any (or any other fic I haven't recced yet) that you've liked that aren't on this list please send! My next ideas for fic rec lists are fantasy, fake dating, and college au--if you want me to do one of these first also lmk!

[theladyofbloodshed]

A Court of Tangled Flames - Chapter 22

A short (for me) chapter with lots of magical beings and Nesta having an existential crisis ready for the new year. Nesta Archeron? She's just like us! Happy New Year!

In the following couple of weeks, Nesta practically floated from place to place with a gormless, sated smile on her face. Eris had walked into a wall one day too when his mind was elsewhere, much to Nesta’s amusement.

She had five hundred years to catch Eris up on. And they were making very good progress.

His relentless work ethic which had been his crutch for centuries was easily forgotten the day Nesta stripped off all of her clothes and spread herself across his desk while he tried to work.

‘You wouldn’t ignore your wife, would you?’ She’d asked him with a simpering gaze.

Eris had taken her there and then over the ancient tomes he’d been reading with little hesitation. Desire became the priority. Scrolls and ink had clattered to the floor as he dragged Nesta by the legs to the end of the desk to have her.

She had to have him at least three times a day – and thankfully, Eris was equally as starved for her touch. Common sense was abandoned for banal fucking. They could barely get through an evening without one of them deciding they had waited long enough and reaching for the other. Under her tutelage, Eris had learned exactly how Nesta liked it – and he had shown her things she didn’t realise she did like until they tried them.

While Nesta had been content to enjoy her husband in their rooms at the Forest House or the cottage, it seemed that the riskier the location, the more enticed Eris was.

The first time had been in the stables. Her terror at being caught as Eris held her against the wooden walls soon shifted into a secret thrill. Then they seemed to go out of their way to almost be caught. They pushed the other to be more risqué with their locations.

Once, Nesta had strode into a council room, finding it empty save for Eris who always arrived early to meetings to prepare. Under the guise of missing her husband, she stroked his hair as she walked by him – then proceeded to crawl beneath the table and take him in her mouth. Never did Nesta think a male would have her crawling, but Eris had proved her wrong. She’d crawl over hot coals for another taste of him. He had spilled his seed into her mouth then the door opened a few seconds later. Eris had engaged the doddery, old council member with conversation as he hobbled across the room so that Nesta could crawl back towards the door and out of sight. She’d met Beron in the corridor. Giddy from almost being caught, she’d flashed him a grin without realising, that made his nostrils flare.

Three times, they were interrupted by the steps of servants and sentries in a public room of the Forest House. Eris would snatch Nesta’s hand then race to another empty room to finish. He had ambitions of the throne – not just to rule from, but to have his wife on too. That was a dream too far for even Nesta to dare to reach. She had little doubt that Beron would spike both of their heads from the gates for daring to do such a thing.

Never in her wildest dreams did Nesta imagine herself fornicating in a forest, yet outdoors had fast become a place for them to enjoy each other. It was so vast and thick that they were never likely to be discovered. He bent her over tree stumps to raise her skirts or she straddled him in soft meadows that held autumnal flowers when they were supposed to be training her magic or winnowing. Sometimes they were quiet, loving moments beneath the stars wrapped in furs – other times, Nesta ended up with twigs in her hair and Eris had scratches from standing on brambles. They’d laugh at each other’s state of dishevelment, content in the knowledge they were comfortable together.

There was a wildness in her husband that reminded her that Eris was truly fae. He was a male forged from the earth and carved by the wind.

With him, Nesta’s inhibitions had loosened. It didn’t feel scary to try and reach a new height, because he was always there supporting her. Not just during sex, but her winnowing was improving thanks to him too; she was capable of travelling further as if winnowing was only a muscle that required training. Eris was shaping her magic too – when they didn’t pause to kiss. He’d been insistent that she seized control of it. Instead of eruptions that billowed out of control, Eris had forced her to be precise. Through that precision – drips of silver flame that targeted a single leaf or mushroom in the forest – she had a far stronger control on it. Instead of being something to be feared, Nesta’s magic slumbered within her like a beast only she could call to. With every hour practised, it had an hour to stretch and move. It went back into its cage easier, knowing the promise of training again was nearby.

Under a waning moon ringed with the cold, Eris held her to his body. The soft, thick pelt of a lynx covered them on the edge of the forest. A forest in the darkness should have been eerie, but Nesta always had a sense that Eris was made from it. That their hearts were twinned, and Eris was more at home amongst the forest than the political scene. A calmness settled on him when they were outside. And they were never alone. Always, they had a handful of smokehounds loping nearby, so the forest no longer was a place to fear.

Despite having a husband who was her equal, Nesta still saw that little boy from his mother’s memories sometimes. The two memories that Eliška had shared had been but two drops in an ocean of Beron’s cruelty. The depths were still unknown. Nesta didn’t know all the ways that Beron had punished him. In truth, she hadn’t decided if she wanted to know all the ways her husband had suffered. She couldn’t help but wonder if that was the day he had changed and began creating his own reputation of cruelty as a shield rather than a mirror of his father. Being the eldest meant that he’d endured it for the longest. The eldest child carried the reputation of their family. It was no easy thing to carry.

Nesta turned so that the cold tip of her nose brushed against Eris’ warm skin. Her hand settled on his chest to feel the thud-thud of his heartbeat.

‘Eris,’ she called, her voice like a lullaby.

His heavy-lidded shuttered closed. A slow intake of breath followed, then, ‘My love.’

Nesta rose onto a forearm so she could run her finger down his straight nose. Her finger tip traced his features, from the sharp cheekbones to the bow of his lips.

He’d happily sleep beneath the stars, she thought. Nesta had visions of the land enveloping him like a son finally come home. She’d wake and Eris would be buried beneath a mound with flowers blooming from him.

‘I need to tell you something but you are not allowed to be cross.’

A loud exhale forced itself from his lungs. ‘Am I ever cross with you?’

No. He had never raised his voice or showed any signs of displeasure towards anything she did. He’d always be by her side against whatever foe.

‘I’d like to go to Velaris for Winter Solstice.’

Those amber eyes wrenched open. Eris sat bolt upright, staring at Nesta.

‘You can’t be cross, Eris.’

‘Cross? I’m not cross. I’m blindsided. Completely flabbergasted. Baffled entirely why you’d want to put yourself through that. Are you a masochist, Nesta? Do you like to suffer? Is that why you married me?’

The babbling was a sign that he was not taking the news well. Eris had a tendency to talk without thought when he was gathering his emotions.

Her brow bunched together as she peeled his arms from the ground to come around her as she moved to sit on his lap.

‘I want to speak to Feyre. If she won’t accept Orla’s help then it’s the last birthday that I’ll be able to spend with her.’ She swallowed hard to dislodge the lump growing in her throat. ‘They celebrate the solstice. I was abominable last year so would like to make it up to Feyre.’

Eris pressed a long finger to her lips. His head shook slowly. ‘You don’t need to atone. Please, don’t go if that is why.’

Nesta touched her forehead to her husband’s. She reasoned that it would be an opportunity to see Emerie and Gwyn. Azriel was on speaking terms with her – and maybe Elain too. Lucien wasn’t an enemy either. At the heart of her decision, it was about making amends to Feyre on her birthday. And trying to seize a moment alone with her to implore her to see reason.

‘You don’t want me there?’

‘I doubt Rhys would let you into his city, much less his home, my love.’

‘We’re sort of brothers now. Unfortunately.’

Nesta pushed back his red hair. It had grown a lot so it reached to the nape of his neck. She was itching to see it cut again. He reminded her too much of the lost and broken little boy with the master-at-arms when it grew longer. It was difficult to look at him without wanting to turn Beron to ash for what he’d done. What he still did.

‘I’ll worry the whole time you’re gone. It feels a lot like going into the belly of the beast. But if anybody says one word you don’t like, strike them down with your magic, won’t you?’

‘Won’t that be a declaration of war from the Autumn Court?’

‘I’ll disown you, don’t worry,’ he teased. ‘I’ll say you lost your mind and acted independently.’

‘The world will sympathise when they know who my husband is. They’ll completely understand why I went mad.’

Eris kissed her gently. ‘I know I said my money is your money, but you are not allowed to buy anything for Rhysand with my money.’

‘Not even poison?’

‘You wicked female.’ Another kiss where she could feel his lips curling into a grin. ‘What about the other bats? Will you purchase something for them?’

‘Maybe Azriel. Earplugs for when Niamh is around.’

Eris’ words were fluttery, hesitant things. ‘Not Cassian?’

Nesta parroted his words back to him and Eris’ body seemed to relax slightly. Did he fear she might want to return to the Night Court after all? Return to a male who’d have forced her to crawl on his master’s orders?

‘I still don’t know why you were with him in the Winter Court. It had to be madness.’

Nesta’s stomach clenched. The night had been too busy to discuss every detail. She had been more concerned about the snatched conversation Eris shared with his mother. So, Nesta told him how Phelan had intercepted Beron to request a dance. How he’d dug his nails into the flesh of her hip and danced with her roughly until Cassian had noticed her hurting then put a stop to it.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

Concern radiated from Eris as his eyes roved over her bare arms as though imagining his brother’s grip on them.

‘The night was so busy. It was when I realised that I wanted to try with you, to stop pretending and just be yours. I couldn’t let Phelan, or Cassian, ruin that hope.’

‘If my father doesn’t execute him before he dies, Phelan will be my first target.’

‘Don’t inflict any more pain on your mother.’

Eris stood to begin dressing himself. The softness of his expression had been exchanged for pure steel. Silently, he helped Nesta to her feet then helped to dress her whilst his fire ringed them, providing some warmth against the night.

‘If Phelan cannot change then I will kill him myself. He has been cruel enough to my mother; he doesn’t deserve her care. If he dares lay a hand on you again, I will cut off both of his hands.’ For a moment he paused, then, ‘And I extend that invitation to the Night Court.’

***

On a warm day, Eris took Nesta to one of the best markets that the Autumn Court had to offer. It straddled the border between Spring and Summer so denizens from each court could be seen selling their wares or flitting between stalls. It was one area that Beron tended to overlook. It provided good income to the court as well as much needed supplies from their neighbours so he was inclined to be less rigid over the border. It was a tradition even his father kept. As such, the town of Redhallow was a diverse place. Skin varied from the pale tones of Spring to the rich hues of Summer. It was common to see brown skin paired with red hair or white hair and deep, brown eyes as citizens mixed. Eris liked the town. Officially, the bulk of it belonged to Autumn. Most of its citizens would probably have chosen a different court of they could, but they fell into the Autumn Court tax bracket.

For once, Eris was not visiting Redhallow to remind its lesser lord to cough up the owed tax or to investigate smuggling. He was there simply as a patron. A male who loved his wife enough to send her into the jaws of hell.

What could Eris say to Nesta? Her mind was made up. The stubbornness was a facet of her personality that he adored until he was met with it. The Night Court wasn’t her family. Only Feyre and Elain were. He couldn’t understand why a meeting couldn’t occur in the Hewn City or even Illyria – one where he could be nearby.

He did not trust them.

Not Rhysand. Not Cassian. His biggest worry was Morrigan. She was vicious. She had already been vicious to Nesta plenty.

Lucien was too lost to Eris for him to even beg his brother to keep Nesta close and keep her safe. He’d be too busy trying to catch a moment with his ignorant mate.

Eris wouldn’t cope if Nesta returned broken and hurt like before. There would not be a ward that could keep him out of their secret city of starlight as his rage got the better of him.

From the moment Nesta left to the Night Court, Eris would be having kittens until she returned.

‘What do you think about this?’

Nesta held up a pale pink scarf with matching gloves. She brushed the material against his cheek so he could feel how soft it was.

‘I hardly think it’s my colour.’

She whipped him with the tassels then moved onto another stall.

Eris loved his wife, he truly did. But they had been at the market for nearly three hours and he was bored to tears.

Nesta had marvelled at the delights from the spring court. He had been told to sniff nearly every tulip on display and tell her which smelt best because her allergies didn’t allow it. From the flower seller, she’d bought bulbs for Elain and a large bunch to be taken to their rooms in the Forest House. Then she had moved onto another stall that had hand-bound books including one with mortal tales. Her fingers had lingered on the cover. For the baby, she’d said, without looking at him. From a lesser fae seller, Nesta had found clothes for the baby too with little slits for the wings. If the child lived, Eris didn’t have the heart to tell Nesta that Rhysand would likely never let his son be dressed in the rich greens and golds of the Autumn Court.

For Emerie, Nesta had loaded up on spices and herbs – those too, she had made him smell – as well as fur-lined gloves and a hat.

‘I wonder what Niamh will buy for her.’

Eris let out a snort. Niamh was infatuated. Her plans to return back to the underground scene as his spy had been well and truly forgotten after meeting the shop-keeper. ‘She’ll probably stick a bow on her head and appear at Emerie’s window in the morning.’

Grey eyes searched Redhallow’s market, taking in the variety of faces. The high fae were equal in number to the lesser fae here. It was a place of magic.

‘Do you think Emerie would be accepted here?’

‘No,’ Eris admitted. ‘The lesser fae here are tolerated. There’s more acceptance from Tarquin, and even Tamlin to an extent. Illyrians are different. They’re not lesser fae, Nesta. They’re a different race. Not high fae, not lesser fae. They’re one that’s always existed as the Night Court’s armies. I fear that Emerie would endure misery if she were to move here. Across the border, maybe it would be better for her.’

Nesta’s face soured. ‘She already endures misery in Windhaven. The people that can change it bleat that it takes time. No, it takes a strong hand and the desire to do it. They’re too comfortable with Illyrians dying for them. Comfortable with males who take their anger at their broken society out on their females rather than those responsible.’

Mindful of the crowd at the market, Eris placed a hand on the small of Nesta’s back. He leaned down to murmur to her. ‘Careful, Nesta. Where there are ears, there are spies.’

Silver flames swirled in her eyes as her passion rose. ‘Let them hear my words. Let them hear my truths.’

Nesta had gone wild buying trinkets, foods, clothes, flowers, books, art supplies, little ceramic pots with designs painted on them, cushions, a rug, sewing supplies and soaps. There had even been a couple of sellers from the Winter Court, who’d likely travelled down through Summer to turn a coin. Nesta had bought all of their clothing without hesitation. All of it was for children. The coats and hats were made of thick furs and soft hides had been used to craft boots.

‘Do you have something to tell me?’ Eris asked as he examined a pair of boots no bigger than his hand.

‘Are you asking if we are expecting twenty children?’

Servants carried their bags back to the Forest House while they remained at the market.

‘I’m merely asking what you plan to do with all of those clothes.’

‘For Emerie. For her shop. Illyrians never have proper winter clothes and their winters are bitterly cold. It might get more customers for her – if not, she can give them to children who have no parents.’

‘You have a good heart. Mine's not yet rotted it.’

Her fingers laced with his as they continued on to the final portion of the market. Stalls floated upon the water so they had to step between barges or time their jumps as one floated by. Each time was a slight thrill. Magic was rife here. Nixies remained in the water selling trinkets they’d found in riverbeds. There were blue skinned lesser fae who played cards beside a stall selling baskets woven from kelp. A group of kappas were arguing with a hob about a bad deal from the previous market.

Nesta’s eyes were wide as she soaked it all in. Eris kept her close. It was easy to wander when magic sang. He could faintly her the lure of a song from a Melusine – a type of lesser fae female who had a habit of drowning males who got too close – so he turned them the other way.

A family of selkies sold fresh fish; the elder pair remained in a lesser fae form but younger ones streaked through the water as seals, catching more fish for their stock.

Beside them, there was a nymph with her legs dangling in the water. Her skin shimmered from green to blue to purple beneath the sun. Long, silvery white hair covered her breasts. In her hands, she carved a comb from whale bone. Laid out on a piece of dark velvet were more intricately made combs. Some had shells or pearls affixed.

‘Let me buy one for you,’ Eris insisted after seeing Nesta’s eyes linger on them.

‘I don’t celebrate solstice.’

‘Can’t a male spoil his wife?’

The nymph called over her shoulder, ‘He absolutely should.’

Her voice had a lilting accent that came from the Summer Court. From the sun blazing down on them, they had passed over the boundary of Autumn into that court. He wondered if Nesta could sense the slight differences in the air as he could. Or maybe Eris only knew it because his heart was made of the Autumn Court. Any other place felt like ashes without the same vibrancy and warmth of his home. Eris always knew when he was home.

When Nesta crouched down to examine the combs, he watched her body stiffen, the closer it got to the water’s edge. Her breathing was measured – and he cursed himself for taking her here without thinking of the kelpie attack.

‘My people believe the Mother lives below the waves,’ the water nymph explained. ‘When we meet her in death, we comb her hair as a sign of love for all she did for us in life.’

Instead of winnowing home, they walked some of the way to enjoy the gentle breeze. Nesta remained quiet but Eris knew her mind was swirling.

‘Will you tell me what you’re thinking?’

Nesta breathed out slowly. ‘I’m confused. If mortals were once slaves, five hundred years ago, I wonder why we never had the Mother. Why that belief never became a part our lives too.’

‘Perhaps being in slavery ruined thoughts of a higher power who might intervene,’ Eris replied, before biting into a crisp apple he’d plucked from a tree they passed on the road.

‘I thought that,’ she said. ‘But all of the lesser fae types there, they all believe in her. Not all of them have good lives. Even in Illyria, they believe in the Mother. I just don’t understand why we didn’t have her when, I think, mortals need her more than any.’

Eris wound his arm around her shoulders. ‘These questions are far beyond my capabilities, my love. We’ll visit a temple soon so you can interrogate them on the great beyond.’

‘How many more lesser fae are there?’

‘Many, many more. Some have died out. Some have been hunted. There are likely many in hiding that we will never see again.’ He tossed the core over his shoulder as they walked. ‘Just think, you could have come out of the Cauldron with wings or horns. Instead, you’re high fae.’

‘Am I high fae though,’ she pressed. ‘The world trembled when I came out of the Cauldron, Eris. My magic doesn’t exist within any other. What am I, truly?’

They stopped in the middle of the dirt road. Her square cut gown was the colour of fallen leaves. Her hair was pinned with intricate golden leaves. Those storm-cloud grey eyes held his, pleading with him to tell her what he saw.

He saw a female who had the beating heart of the Autumn Court. One fierce and brave, unafraid to cut a new path, one who would begin again no matter what obstacle befell her. A female so clever and cunning that Eris had to run to keep up with her.

‘I see my wife. I see a female who makes me want to change the world. I see a female so terrifyingly brilliant that the world quivered when she emerged because it knew there would never be another Nesta Archeron.’  

Nesta when she gets home that night:

what am i

@owllover123 @rarephloxes @fanboy7794 @sugardoll22 @kitkat-writes-stuff @this-is-rochelle @sv0430

[monkeymindscream]

Sleep, bedroom, and cooking for Leo and Uno.

(Gonna end up splitting each of these into two parts - general, and Parasite/Host shenanigans)

☾ : Sleep headcanon

Gen: They both slept better when they were younger (in Uno's case, much much younger). Leo because before he was a carefree kid surrounded by a loving family, and now has two extremely traumatic instances under his belt. Specifically, Shredder destroying his home, trying to kill him and his brothers, essentially succeeding in killing his Gram-Gram, and taking his dad(s) hostage, and then pretty much everything to do with the Krang invasion. Leads to a lot of restless nights/unfortunate dreams.

Uno slept better when he had other Krang (primarily his siblings) nearby. Most of a Krang's life is spent operating within either the little sibling groups they form amongst themselves, or with the species at large (depending on what they're doing during any given invasion, of course). Krang developed a quasi-hivemind kind of as a result of this, and can physically feel when another Krang is nearby.

Uno is completely alone in the prison dimension, as canon stands.

Parasite/Host AU: When it all starts out, it's some rough going for Leo for a while here (considering that one of the primary reasons why he's having issues sleeping is now irremovably attached to him).

Uno, on the other hand, is sleeping better than he has in literal years. He tucks into Leo's shell when they sleep, which means he's surrounded by the sounds of blood pumping and the meat that's inside his shell. Given that the Technodrome was basically a giant, fleshy organism that Krang would direct around, it's a setting that Uno finds both familiar and maybe even a little soothing.

(Plus it helps immeasurably to have constant, inarguable proof that another living, breathing creature is so close to him, even if he McFuckin hates that creature at the beginning.)

After things develop and Leo stops registering Uno as a threat, it becomes equally necessary for both of them to have the other within touching distance for them to get much sleep at all.

☮ : Bedroom/house/living quarters headcanon

Gen: Leo's room is surprisingly tidy, generally. If he's been busy or just had his focus somewhere else (or going through a particularly bad depressive episode), the clutter can start to creep up on him, but again. Generally.

Krang didn't really have... rooms. None that personally belonged to individuals, anyway. Everywhere was community space to them, and as such it was the duty of their "community" to keep spaces functional (that is to say, clean). So he's also generally tidy.

Parasite/Host AU: Put the two together and not much changes. So long as there's a clear walkway to all of the important bits in the room, Uno doesn't mind slight mess, and Leo always made a point of making sure of that even at his messiest, so no problems had.

♤ :  Cooking headcanon

Gen: Leo's not a complete disaster. So long as the recipes are simple/from a box, he won't starve.

Krang, on the other hand, don't really need to cook - they can consume most matter raw. So putting this gum in the kitchen and expecting him to create anything palatable would be an extreme error of judgement. At best you're going to be served uncooked noodles with sour cream, at worst you'll be looking at a science experiment that's gained sentience and is now growling at you.

Parasite/Host AU: Put them together and not much fun happens - Leo lets Uno know what earthlings can/can't/want to/don't want to consume, and things proceed apace from there. But that's dull, so here's something for the people who aren't in on the ground floor of this fic's plotting process:

Tidepods? Fucking delicious by Krang standards. Leo, who's slotted to go through some Changes, discovers this by accident. Which is then promptly followed by the very lucky discovery that they're no longer poisonous to him.

[whatever-is-happening-here]

well, I'm not ruling it out, he said, smiling, and kissed the top of my head, and he can come and hang out and talk to you about how full his dance card is. and I laughed and also shoved him in the shoulder, he bent his head so I could kiss his forehead, and then he went back to his wife, which is, you know. like, it's good, it's all just a little strange. what a weird thing to have started all this. I'm never going to understand myself.

I was so glad to be with you today. like Jeremy, he just says the most unbelievable shit all the time. I'm grateful. I'm glad. thank you. I'm happy. like I can't - I don't know. there's no point to this post really, I just wanted to have said something somewhere because if this all disintegrates I want to remember that it existed. I recognise the way he holds my hand because it's the way I used to hold the hands of the broken boys I loved, not that most of them deserved it.

Us, and our empty hands, the hands of starving nurses.

It's bullet holes we want to see in their skin, scars, and the chance to touch them.

like I think about those lines all the time, but I never think about anyone feeling that way about me. not that people don't; I do know that. they just never used to, and everything I think and feel and expect is still 22 years out of date.

Denny in that layby, watching the cars come in. oh, he said with real astonishment, I do - I see it, I really do look kind of like him. only from some angles, and only the old Denny, the thing I fell in love with, not the bizarre shape of him now, recognisable/unrecognisable. and who cares, I guess, none of that's important. I just - do know. I remember. I remember him in that cheongsam with the black lipstick he wore for me and how beautiful I wanted to find him and how sick I felt instead. I told Guignol about the time I discovered that album and asked Denny if we could fuck to it and he was like 'um, no thanks, that album's really old news' and Guignol stared at me for a solid ten seconds of incredulity and then said I really think that's the most pathetic thing I've ever heard in my life. which was/is always nice. but.

but, I get it. he hated himself and he moved like that, a cobra sway in the half darkness. I'm the seed in your head/if you're good, then you'll dream/if you're good, if you're bad, if you're good, if you're bad. I don't know what I'm even writing about at this point. just getting back some more old things, maybe.

[kitchenisking]

😇

Throw Me to the Wolves by skoosiepants - (Rating: T, Words: 13493, sterek)

He feels the physical embodiment of devastated, his already too strung-out mind struggling to wall up all the hurt, the rejection—he takes a deep shuddering breath and looks down at the shredded skin on his arms, at the sluggish way they’re weakly healing.

There is nothing, nothing he wants more than to have Derek sweep in and make everything all better. He should have known, though, that something like that would never happen to him. 

OR -

Stiles accidentally gets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

If I Could Turn Back Time by Menacherie - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 5502, sterek)

Stiles wakes up in a world in which Kate Argent was never born.

Won't Admit It When I'm Myself by SoBeBold - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 6347, sterek)

Derek gets whammied into showing everyone-especially Stiles-his soft, gentle, happy side. Confessions happen and Hijinks ensue.

Hales Have People For That by LadyDrace - (Rating: Mature, Words: 4580, sterek)

Some moron decides to capture the Hale pack. Big mistake. Really big.

Cuddle Me Pack by AlexTheShipper - (Rating: G, Words: 2450, sterek)

The pack realizes they have been injuring Stiles on accident, and completely stop touching him to avoid the problem. Stiles is left touch starved and lonely, and feels he's no longer part of the pack.

Sweet Dreams 'til Sunbeams Find You by weathervaanes - (Rating: Mature, Words: 9275, sterek)

But that’s when it happens. Stiles is on a down stroke when Derek opens his mouth against Stiles’ neck and says, “What do you think about having kids?”

-0-

Stiles and Derek are ready to build a family.

Where's Stiles? by Bashfyl - (Rating: T, Words: 4212, sterek)

Six years after leaving Derek returns to Beacon Hills to get his man. What he finds is not at all what he expects.

Soul-Mark by PaigeRhiann - (Rating: T, Words: 5201 , sterek)

His wolf purrs happily because it has taken eighteen years and getting his family killed to finally discover the name of his promised. The person he’s destined to be with. Or, as Werewolves call it – Mate.

“Genim S.” He repeats

“That’s a really fucking weird name” Laura snorts, turning back to the movie.

“Yeah, it is” he nods.

You’d Be So Good To Come Home To by SylvieW - (Rating: T, Words: 5073, sterek)

In Stiles’ final year of college, Derek decides to rebuild the Hale house. He keeps asking for Stiles’ opinion on the house plans. Stiles doesn't realize that Derek is building the house with a mate in mind.

Metropolitan Love Authority by KaliopeShipsIt - (Rating: G, Words: 7299, sterek)

Stiles falls in love with a gorgeous Omega on his early morning commute. A misunderstanding of literally pregnant proportions ensues.

[xwinterdreams-blog]

Keep Me Company

Team Fuck fill for @stevetonygames square "Touch-Starved"

Looking to have a word with Stark, Timely’s resident inventor/blacksmith/drunk, Sheriff Rogers strode into the local saloon, expecting to find him there drowning himself in a bottle of whiskey or two—as he was most every night—but alas, no Stark.

He walked over to the bar, and he’d hardly placed his fist atop the counter when the barman spoke, “You just missed ‘im.”

Steve frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Stark. He ambled outta here ‘bout fifteen minutes ago.”

His frown deepened. He wondered what it said about him that the barman knew who he was looking for before he even had the chance to ask. They weren’t that close.

Steve wouldn’t even say they were friends. They argued as often as not, over differing world views and differing opinions on how much drinking, and at what time of day, constituted reasonable.

Steve thought Stark was cynical and lackadaisical. Stark probably thought he was a naive simpleton.

But there was something about Stark that drew Steve in. An inexplicable pull to stand next to Stark at the bar, so that they could engage in their usual repartee. The man had a sharp tongue and a devastating wit even while three sheets to the wind.

Shaking off his musings, Steve nodded at the barman before he left the saloon. What now? Back to his cold, lonely bed for the night?

Maybe he’d stop by Stark's place before he went home. Just to… check in. Talking to him was a part of his daily routine, that was all. Steve liked his routines.

——————

“Stark?” He called out, pushing open the door.

Silence.

He should just go home.

Steve walked inside. He made his way through the shop into Stark’s workshop, figuring he’d find him in there if he was still awake. Stepping inside he discovered that Stark was there, but he wasn’t awake.

Stark was sprawled on the wooden floorboards, a bottle of whiskey inches away from his hand, the remnants of which were spilling out onto the floor.

Steve sighed. He should probably just leave him to it, but when Stark groaned, Steve couldn’t do it. He walked over to him and crouched down near his head. “Why do ya do this to yerself, Stark?”

He reached one hand under his neck and the other under his back, lifting, pulling, dragging Stark into standing.

Stark groaned and mumbled, leaning heavily against Steve but otherwise not rising to consciousness. Steve pulled him over to the cot bed in the corner. He dropped him down as carefully as he could, but he still thumped down a little. It didn’t seem to bother Stark much.

Kneeling down at Stark’s side, Steve brushed his wayward black locks out of his eyes. What was it about this man? He pulled his hand away and Tony whimpered, moving his head, searching for Steve’s hand.

Steve placed his hand back on Tony’s head, sifting his fingers through the soft strands of his hair.

“Mmm, thaas nice…” Tony slurred before falling back to sleep.

Steve couldn’t stop his smile, he also couldn’t pull himself away and leave like he really should. He liked this. Comforting Tony. Seeing this uninhibited side of him devoid of his usual carefree mask. He looked softer than Steve had ever seen him before.

“No! No! Stop! That’s not what they were for! I never wanted… No!” Tony’s placid features scrunched up in dismay.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve shook Tony’s arm, trying to wake him out of whatever bad dream he was having. “Stark!”

“Huh? Wha? Steve?”

“Hey there.”

“What are you doing here?” He looked around at his position on the cot, dislodging Steve’s hand which Tony eyed curiously, before settling back on Steve. “You helped me into bed and stroked my hair… thought that was a dream, too.”

“Ah… no.” Steve mumbled, feeling a bit awkward. “I just came to…” see you? He shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“My hero.”

Steve rolled his eyes, looking anywhere but at Stark’s teasing eyes. “I guess I better—”

“Stay.” Stark’s hand landed on Steve’s arm before he could move, and he felt it like a brand on his skin, even through his shirtsleeve. How long had it been since he’d felt the intimate touch of another on his skin?

Too long. Timely was a lonely town for a man who enjoyed a very specific kind of company. The male kind.

His gaze shot to Tony, and the look in his eyes was no longer teasing. They were alight with such fervency, Steve could not suppress his gasp. Oftentimes Tony’s eyes were glazed, apathetic, annoyed. Never this heated. This urgent.

“Keep me company for the night, Sheriff. Keep the bad dreams at bay,” Tony said it with a hint of amusement, but Steve sensed the sentiment was real. Tony was hurting, from what he didn’t know. But the Civil War had been horrendous, everyone had memories they wished they could suppress, Steve certainly did. No doubt Tony did as well.

He didn’t use guns anymore, that probably had something to do with it. But Steve had never heard the story before. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked carefully.

Tony shook his head. “I don’t want to talk. Not tonight, anyway. I want the same thing as you. The thing we’ve both been wanting, building up to, for months. Don’t deny it.”

Steve couldn’t. Something had been happening lately. Underneath the barbed conversations, something had been growing. Desire. Need. Affection.

Steve climbed up from his knees and Tony pulled him down on top of him before he even had a chance to move. He tumbled down onto him and Tony made an oof sound as Steve knocked the air out of him, but then he was grinning, and then they were kissing.

Tony fumbled between their bodies to undo the buttons on Steve’s waistcoat while Steve attacked Tony’s. They made quick—if slightly awkward—work of removing each other’s waistcoats, shirts, loose ties and Tony’s jacket. Then their chests were completely bare, and Steve took his time tracing every inch of Tony’s firm chest, compact muscles, and dark trail of hair leading down into his slacks.

“You are—oof—” Steve spluttered in shock at Tony who had grabbed him round the waist and flipped him over onto his back, taking him completely by surprise.

“You were saying?” Tony hovered above Steve, hands pressed to the bed on either side of Steve’s head, grinning ear to ear with satisfaction.

Steve stared at him slack-jawed for a moment before he managed to gather his composure. “I’m surprised you could even make that move, Stark. Given the state I found you in.”

“I’m a very functional drunk, my liver’s used to it by now. My mind is perfectly clear.” Tony lowered his body, purposefully pressing every inch against Steve. “I think we’ve graduated to a first name basis by now, wouldn’t you say?”

He had a point, Steve had been thinking of him as Tony more and more, addressing him as Stark was just habitual at this point. “I suppose I could call you Tony.”

“Mm,” Tony grunted, thrusting his hips against Steve, his hard flesh confined by his pants pressing up against Steve’s own. “I like that. You sayin’ my name. As many fantasies as I have about callin’ you Sheriff, I like to be on a first name basis with the man I’m about to fuck.”

That brought Steve up short. “Who says you’re doing the fucking?”

“Why, do you want inside me, Sheriff?” Tony leaned down to nibble on Steve’s ear, and he squirmed. “Or is it just pride?”

“Just mighty presumptuous of you, that’s all.” Steve grumbled.

“Aha.” Tony chuckled against Steve’s skin. He started pressing kisses along Steve’s cheekbone, lifting his face to meet Steve’s gaze. “Would you be ever so kind, good sir, as to allow me the honour of gaining entrance to thine aperture?”

Steve tried not to laugh. He really, really did. The man was ridiculous. Utterly. But his lips twitched, a smirk broke out, and then a full-bellied laugh burst out of him. He shook his head in exasperated amusement. Tony looked pleasantly surprised at Steve’s good humour.

“Very polite of you, I accept.”

Tony leaned forward to kiss Steve but he pressed his fingers against his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

“And would you extend the same courtesy, some other time?”

“Think there’ll be another time, do you?”

“I don’t see why not. My bed is cold and empty every night, wouldn’t say no to the pleasure of your company.”

“Mmm, nor would I.” Tony leaned down again and this time Steve let him, meeting him for a deep and passionate kiss. “I have a fantasy about a certain Sheriff bending me over his Sheriff desk, if that interests you at all.”

“That would be… highly inappropriate.”

Tony simply stared at Steve. Waiting.

“Maybe.” He scowled, but he couldn’t deny the flush of arousal he felt at that scenario. “But I want you in my bed first,” he said stubbornly.

“Don’t you know, Steven? You can have me any time, any place.” With that sly remark, Tony climbed off the bed pulling off his shoes and shucking off his pants before wandering away.

Steve’s eyes tracked his bare ass and legs for a moment, before he pulled off his own trousers.

When Tony came back he had a bottle of liquid in his hand. “Oil.” He said, shaking it with a suggestive grin on his face.

Steve spread his legs and lifted his arms above his head. “I’m at your mercy.”

“Well, well, well. How about that.” Tony clambered onto the bed, and Steve sunk into the pleasure of his touch. It had been such a long time since he’d been touched this way, and never with such gentle care, nor had it ever made him feel so responsive.

But every calloused-roughened touch of Tony’s hands lit Steve on fire. He was nothing but moans and encouragements for more, more, more until Tony was sliding into him and he could finally breathe.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Tony asked, waiting for Steve’s nod before he started a steady pace of deep thrusts.

Steve wrapped his legs around Tony, sunk his fingers into Tony’s hair, and held on for the ride as his movements grew faster, and pleasure built into an inferno.

“Fuck you feel… wonderful.” Tony panted against his neck.

“Right back at ya, fella.”

“Is that what I am now, huh? Your fella?”

“If you want.” Steve huffed out, because Tony kept hitting that spot that made him see stars. The feelings only doubled when Tony started sucking on Steve’s neck. He bucked. Groaned. Cried out as he experienced an explosive climax.

He only vaguely registered Tony groaning in his ear and coming moments later. Tony pulled out and collapsed beside Steve, entwining their bodies together.

Maybe because there wasn’t much room, or perhaps he just wanted to be close to him after such a visceral experience. Steve didn’t mind either way.

He’d felt touch-starved for such a long time—always walking the solo path—that he thought he could very much get used to having someone in his space. To having Tony in his space. He pressed a kiss to the side of Tony’s head and drifted off to sleep.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The former God of Magic resents The Mother for sticking him on Earth, and plans on causing as much havoc as he can to punish Her;

Version 2, Dark!Merlin

INTRO

(Version 1, Good!Merlin)

TW: A lot of emotional manipulation, a little violence, a lot of angst.

~

“You’re late.”

The woman’s well practiced blank mask falls into a scowl as she stares at Merlin with mistrust:

“Well, perhaps I was putting off coming to see you, no matter how necessary it is.”

The gang can see the bob of Merlin’s head as he lets out a low chuckle, and they have to stop themselves from recoiling; they’d never heard a noise like that from their young friend before, it sounded almost... cruel.

He lifts a hand to cover his heart as he says in faux offense:

“You wound me, sister. You didn’t want to see your favourite sibling?”

Everyone frowns in confusion, Merlin doesn’t have... siblings. That’s not even mentioning the fact that this woman barely seems human.

The woman doesn’t hide her slight disgust, taking a step back from Merlin and letting out a harsh breath:

“I came here to tell you that you need to hurry up. Time is running out.”

Merlin chuckles again, turning to the side and taking a few short paces, his hands held leisurely behind his back. The amusement on his face is disturbing, and Arthur gulps, not noticing the way Mordred is growing paler and paler by the second. Merlin doesn’t turn to look at the woman as he speaks, and his smirk stretches wider:

“But I’m having so much fun, Ava!”

The woman, Ava, huffs again, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest. If the gang weren’t so semi-sure that Merlin wasn’t dangerous, they’d think she looked scared:

“Mother sent you here to complete a task. Get it done, and you can come home. Isn’t that what you want? To come home?”

Merlin’s smirk falls, and the snarl that the gang briefly see on his face before he whips around to face Ava takes their breath away. They barely notice the thunder, snapping in the distance in time with Merlin’s anger:

“Mother’s the one keeping me here in the first place. She could accept me back any time.”

Ava takes another step back, and Merlin tilts his head ever so slightly at the movement, but waits for her to speak:

“As punishment for your cruelty. She isn’t happy, you’re making a mess of things.”

Merlin chuckles again, tilting his head even further, and his words have an immediate chilling effect on the group hiding in the bushes:

“Well, if she insists on sending the God of Chaos to fix a problem, perhaps she should expect a little mess. Plus, I’m having more fun here than I’ve had in centuries. These humans... so gullible.-”

Ava shakes her head mournfully, but before she can say anything, Merlin continues, now pacing calmly around the clearing, waving his hands and grinning in his excitement:

“-I mean, they’re just so... easy. To play with, to manipulate. You know they all trust me? They all come running to naïve, innocent, loving little Merlin, spilling all their secrets as they go. Did you know, the drunkard is the son of a noble? “Fuck nobility” my arse, he is nobility.-”

Gwaine clenches his jaw and looks to the floor, ignoring the stares of Arthur and Leon, but before anything can be muttered, Merlin continues, listing their greatest secrets off on his fingers:

“-The gentle giant is terrified that someone’s going to find out that his preferences lie with men, which is ridiculous considering the way he stares at the aforementioned drunkard when he thinks no one but little old me is watching. The blacksmith, even years on, is terrified that his whore sister will never forgive him for... something or other, I wasn’t really paying attention. Camelot’s first, The King’s most trusted, has a debilitating fear of heights, and oh if it isn’t just hilarious to watch when he has to patrol the city walls. And then, there’s the-”

Ava rolls her mournful eyes and interrupts him:

“Your point, Em?”

Merlin laughs, fully and from the belly, but the sound doesn’t bring the gang joy like it normally does:

“My point, is that I’ve got these idiots wrapped around my finger. Mortals: the universe’s most fun toy. I haven’t even gotten to half of them yet. There’s the noble one, who thinks he holds my trust, the Druid boy, whose only redeeming feature is that he’s destined to kill the King Prat one day; believe me, if it weren’t for that I’d have killed the annoying little twerp years ago. Then there’s the King Prat’s magical sister, who is full of such terror. I play with her dreams some nights, force visions of pyres and hatred and destruction to play over and over in her mind. It’s rather amusing, watching her thrash and sweat and whimper in her sleep.-”

Arthur’s head had whipped around to Morgana when Merlin had mentioned her, but the tears streaming down her face and the way her hand was clamped tightly over her mouth stripped his anger from him. Which left him with no distraction, no way to ignore the simple fact of what was happening right now. Merlin was... not what they thought. He was powerful, he was using them. He was playing with them like puppets and pulling their strings this way and that, watching as they could do nothing but follow. Arthur didn’t know what to think, and he definitely didn’t notice the tears on his own cheeks.

Mordred was pale to the point of looking like he was about to faint and Lancelot had a deep frown on his face, tears in his eyes but not quite falling, not yet. This was... a misunderstanding. He... he knows Merlin, this is a trick, or a trap, he’ll explain later and everything will be just fine. He just has to... to trust him. Everything will be fine.

Gwaine keeps his gaze on the floor. A small part of him was feeling a little prideful that Percival liked him back, but the rest of him... had no room for anything but grief. He had suspected that Merlin had magic, but this was something else, this was... a whole new person. Did he ever really know Merlin? Did any of them? 

Elyan and Gwen sat pressed together tightly, though Gwen had one hand on Morgana’s shaking back, and her other was reaching around Elyan, gripping Leon’s shoulder tightly. Leon was just staring blankly at the scene in front of him, though anyone that knew him well enough would be able to see the tight clench of his jaw and the anger (and grief) in his eyes.

Ava interrupted Merlin’s gleeful ranting, the tears in her eyes a little more prominent as she took on a slightly more desperate tone:

“Please, Em, just... stop. They’re important, they have destinies, you can not destroy them or push them too far; this is cruel, even for you. This... you never used to be like this.”

Merlin turns around, facing away from his sister and giving the hidden group full view of his rage-filled face. His voice is quiet and clipped and angry as he asks:

“Oh?”

Another roll of thunder echoes through the clearing, closer this time, and fat droplets of rain fall harshly from the sky, mixing with the tears on everyone’s face. Ava sighs, tears overflowing as she gulps before answering, her voice shaking slightly as she takes a step towards Merlin:

“You’re meant to be the God of Magic, not Chaos. You were so... beautiful, balanced. You saw wonder in everything, every little spark of magic and every single prayer put a smile on your face. You loved humanity even more than Mother did. Now look at you, you’re tormenting them, torturing them. This isn’t you, Em, please. Help them, and things can go back to the way they were, help them and you can come home.”

The anger on Merlin’s face had only grown as she spoke, and each individual hidden in the bushes had to make a concerted effort to stop themselves from bolting. None of them had felt terror like it, and the fact that it was Merlin they were all so scared of... well, it didn’t help.

Lightening streaks across the sky and wind howls violently through the forest, calming only when Merlin shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath, straightening his back and smirking slightly before he replies, still not turning around to face his sister:

“You’re right. I loved humanity, I was desperate to see them succeed. And then they butchered me. I gave them this universe to frolic in, and in return they call me a monster, a beast, they call me evil, they make nightmares out of me. I still listen to every little prayer, and do you know what I hear? I hear my people, my wonderful little creations, my creatures of magic, begging for mercy, begging for the pain to stop. The humanity I so used to love turned on them, began to burn them, out of spite and fear and hatred. I will not show them any more grace than they have showed me, I will give them exactly what they deserve, and that blonde idiot is at the top of my list of people who have to fucking pay. I won’t destroy him entirely, because ultimately I want my creatures to stop suffering, but I will break him. I will rip him apart piece by piece for what he has done to me.-”

The absolute fury in Merlin’s words, the hatred, translates to thunder in the sky and agony in Arthur’s chest. The King can barely breathe, muffling the sobs tearing from his mouth with both hands, both terrified of being discovered, and desperate to... to let Merlin punish him for the pain he has caused.

Leon settles a shaking hand on his shoulder, but Arthur doesn’t look his way, his blurry gaze focused on Merlin, now finally turning back to his sister:

“-You know, I’m this close to getting that big blonde idiot to fall in love with me. How pathetic is that?? All it took was a few touches here, a few lingering stares there, saving his life occasionally. The man is so pathetically starved for attention I imagine he’d fall for anyone who showed him the barest amount of affection. That is how I will break him.-”

The only thing stopping Arthur from sobbing aloud is Leon collapsing behind him, pulling the young King back into his chest and wrapping a tight arm around his torso, one hand clamped over his mouth as he mutters desperate reassurances into his ear. Morgana pulls Gwen close in a similar way when the servant’s cries grow harsher, her brother burying his face in her shoulder.

Lancelot barely notices Gwaine gripping his arm hard enough to leave bruises for weeks, or Percival pushing his forehead into Lance’s shoulder blade. All he can do is sit and stare at the ground, his breathing slow but shaky, tears streaming silently down his face as he rethinks everything he’s ever known.

Mordred sits on his own, rocking back and forth rhythmically as he tightens the clutch he has around his knees. Tears drip from his young cheeks, poisoning the ground beneath him as he struggles to consider his faith. His faith in magic, in Emrys, who was meant to be balanced and beautiful and giving. Emrys, who he now knew was twisted and angry and desperate for revenge.

All of their hearts are splitting, cracking down the middle.

“-It won’t be physical pain, no, that’ll be down to the Druid boy. He doesn’t want to kill Arthur now, but he will, one day, when I give him one final push. He’ll fall so far into the darkness there’ll be nothing of him left to save, and when he plunges his sword into The Pendragon’s chest, I’ll sit back and watch with a smile on my face, and Arthur will realise that the man he loves, the man who claimed to love him in return, hated him all along. Tricked him. I will watch the life drain from his eyes, and he will spend his last few moments on this world in every kind of agony imaginable, lost in the knowledge that I wanted him to suffer, that he is being punished for his sins.”

Ava shakes her head, silver tears dripping from her emerald eyes as she stares at the floor:

“Are Sir Mordred and the Lady Morgana not your creatures? Do you not wish to save at least them?”

Merlin chuckles darkly:

“I had faith in them once, but they made their decisions. They sided with a Pendragon over me. Mother may be fond of her precious Once and Future King, but to be fair, she’s fond of anything with a pulse, and I, for one, can not wait until she’s not quite so fond of him anymore.”

Ava gulps, taking a desperate step towards her amused brother, but before she can say anything, before she can make one last plea for mercy on humanity’s behalf, Merlin tilts his head, smirking dangerously:

“Do you think they’re scared?”

She halts in her tracks, blinking in confusion, and Merlin’s smile grows into a chuckle as he gestures behind him:

“The King and all his little friends, hidden in the bushes. Do you think they’re scared?” 

The gang barely have time to look up in shock before their bodies are moving, out of their control. They stand rigidly and walk single-file out from their hiding place, coming to stand in a line at the side of the clearing. Merlin hasn’t even looked at them, but his hand floats in the air, a sickly looking yellow mist swirling around his fingers as he tilts his head at his sister, staring in horror at The King, the knights, the Lady, and the servant.

Merlin drops his hand and they all fall to their knees, not even bothering to be brave as they sob. The angry God finally turns, and the serene smile on his face is chilling as he walks towards them, coming to stand in front of Lance and Mordred first. The two of them are the calmest, though calm in the way that they don’t really look... present. They stare blankly ahead, breathing shallow and tears still falling as Merlin crouches in front of them, gripping a chin in each hand and shaking their heads roughly. His voice comes out a whisper, the frown on his face looking more disappointed than anything:

“So much faith, so much trust. It’s a little pitiful, if I’m being honest.”

They don’t react to his words and he smirks before letting them go and standing, moving on to Elyan and Gwen, gripping the knight’s shoulder and saying with mocking sympathy in his voice:

“You were right, by the way,-”

He glances at a fully sobbing Gwen with disgust:

“-she’ll never forgive you, but she’ll never tell you that. You’ll just spend the rest of your life wondering why your relationship was never the same.”

Next, he shuffles over to Gwaine, not even bothering to see the siblings’ reactions as he passes Leon and Percival with a look of disinterest on his face. He leans down in front of the knight, running a soft hand through his hair, waiting for the man to relax slightly before gripping his hair harshly and yanking back, so he has to look up at him. Merlin gives him a blindingly cruel smile:

“You're grateful that Percival is just as in love with you as you are with him, but don’t think yourself too lucky. You’re a hypocrite and a drunk, and my dear old Percy has too much self respect to put himself through that. I’d go for a good tumble in the hay and give up while you’re ahead.”

Once again, he moves back, his sister having to look away in her grief, her empathy drowning her. The God comes to stand in front of Morgana, who is desperately trying to look brave but failing miserably:

“And you. You’re meant to be The Darkness, but I couldn’t very well have you outdo me, could I? Try your hardest, I’ll still be the end of you, and I wait with baited breath for the day you fall, and the day soon after that, when I get to kill you.”

She break down in tears again at that, horrified with the idea that she might one day be on the same end of morality and cruelty as this monster in front of her.

Merlin smirks before rolling his eyes and finally coming to stand in front of Arthur. The King calms his breathing just enough to look up at a smirking Merlin, his voice cracking and barely-there as he mutters:

“Please... Merlin, please...”

The smirk drops from Merlin’s face as he brings his hand up, the sickly yellow mist back again. Arthur rises from the floor, hands clutching at his throat as the air is drawn from his lungs. Merlin steps closer to his with a snarl, his free hand gripping Arthur’s chin like a vice, though his voice eerily calm as he murmurs:

“You. You and Uther were so desperate for a scape-goat, for a villain, for a monster. And you picked magic, you picked me. So stop being so fucking pathetic, I’m just playing the part you gave me to perfection. You picked the premise, I’m writing the ending.”

Ava finally speaks up, her voice loud, despite the waver:

“Brother please, this is... this is beyond cruelty, please just stop.”

Arthur is dropped, and The King can barely find it in himself to choke for air as Merlin turns back to his sister, the amused smirk back on his face:

“Why? None of them are going to remember in the morning anyway. I’ve had my fun, this has been cathartic, but I can’t have them ruining my plans. So run along now sister, tell Mother that her precious task is being completed, I’m just taking the scenic route.” 

She shakes her head in defeat, staring at the floor. She lifts her head, opening her mouth to make one last attempt, but she closes it, realising that there’s nothing she could possibly say to persuade him to suddenly have mercy, mercy that no one had ever shown him. She gulps, letting out a deep breath before shaking her head again and turning around, walking back into the trees, the way she came.

The God looks back to his puppets, shivering in time with their knotted strings, smirking once more before he clicks his fingers and everything goes dark.

~

Arthur wakes the next morning feeling oddly refreshed and surprisingly unannoyed at his idiot manservant’s lateness. He rolls his eyes at the bright sunshine glaring through his curtains, the sun certainly a lot higher in the sky than it should be at the time The King wakes, but oh well. Merlin has been chipper lately, and the warmth that Arthur feels in his chest at the younger man’s happiness makes him more likely to forgive him his tardiness.

As if thinking of him had summoned him (wishful thinking on Arthur’s part), Merlin bursts through the doors, not bothering to knock as per usual, a breakfast-laden tray in his arms and a cheeky grin on his face. Arthur rolls his eyes again, chucking a pillow at Merlin half-heartedly as he grumbles, also half-heartedly:

“You’re late.”

Merlin chuckles, setting the tray down on the table before jogging endearingly over to Arthur’s bedside, grabbing his hand and pulling him to stand upright:

“Something tells me you don’t mind all that much, Your Pratness.”

Arthur huffs, but only to stop himself from smiling, and resolutely ignores the way Merlin’s hand is still in his. The servant squeezes his palm softly, and Arthur gulps, pulling away and walking towards his meal, hoping the food would squash the butterflies in his stomach.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes, smiling to himself softly at a whole range of things: the good night’s rest he’d had, the bright sunshine, Merlin’s good mood, the sensation of Merlin’s hand in his own, Merlin’s dazzling smile, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin...

Merlin stares at his back as he goes, noting with a dangerously satisfied smirk the red blush of his ears.

The scenic route indeed.

~

THE END!!

Oops I made myself sad. Sorry to say but I hope this makes you sad too.

This was SUPER fun to write and I’m so glad I decided to do two versions😅

Link to the Good!Merlin version (much MUCH fluffier, I promise) at the top!!

[justsomeonethatdowhatlikes]

Hcs/random scenarios I thought of in the middle of the night when I saw this post:

so, in the end it turned out that my mind delved a bit into it :b

𝙂𝙤𝙙/𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨! 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙭 𝙍𝙖𝙣𝙗𝙤𝙗 𝙝𝙘𝙨

• Imagine that one day, you being a god doing god things, you get bored and decide to travel through time, so... that's how you first encountered Him.

• And after that day, he would never leave you alone, because just like Dream, you were a magnificent and divine being in the eyes of ranbob.

• He'll want to spend most of his time with you when you're there.

• He will follow you wherever you go, being in awe of anything and everything you do (which, you find strange.)

• He'll even take the diary he's been hiding and jot down the new things he's discovered about you. He doesn't want to forget anything about one of those he admires so much.

• He can ask hundreds of questions at times (which can end up pissing you off at times). Being them like: "How was your day, my deity? Are you okay? Do you need something? Do you want me to bring you something at your disposal? Do you need me to kill someone for you? :D" when you show up, and " My deity, is there anything else you need? Would you like some tea? Would you like some new jewelry? How about maybe trying something new? Do you like this? Do you like that? I'll bring whatever you need! Want me to do this now? What would you most like to do, my deity? ~" When he's around you, these are usually the things he asks the most.

• He's desperate about you and your attention. But, that's pretty obvious, isn't it?

• He would even try to do some habits or activities that you normally do. Like, if you have a craze for something, like talking in slang (which, I imagine, is because of observing certain mortals too much), he might try to add that slang in his own lingo to try to get closer to you.

• Like that...

• "Bro, wtf do you want?"

• "...Bro?"

• "Yeah Bro."

• "I...just wanted to see you..bro."

• On the other hand, if you are a god with a more sophisticated language, he will try to be as polite and chivalrous as possible, but still acting like a loyal and obsessed servant.

• When you left to do your godly duty (or whatever), he'd be a little down to be alone again, but he'd take this moment to go back to his room and write in his journal about all the things he's done, thought and found out about you.

• His diary is a crazy place like wattpad...

• He would imagine future scenarios of what the two of you could do together.

• When (or if...) you come back, he'll be flustered and excited like a dog when he sees his owner again after they've left for so long.

• Of course, being the faithful follower that he is, he will literally do 𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 you say.

• He would 𝙙𝙚𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙮 make an altar (or room?) focused on you.

• Is touch starved.

• And he will be in shock and not knowing what to do and say, if he receives some act of affection from you, until in 5 seconds his head will be freaking out, while his cheeks will be slightly pink (or it would be "purple and yellow" 🤔 )

• Anyway, he would be your most loyal follower to play with :)

[creepling]

am i not enough? (quackity x reader) - apocalypse!AU

( 。・_・。)人(。・_・。 ) | part of the @quackisinnit 1k event !

THE PROMPT IS . . . “ AM I NOT ENOUGH ? “

pairing: irl!quackity x genderneutral!reader (apocalypse!AU)

word count: 3,306

summary: the reader and alex become a duo while coming across each others paths during a zombie apocalypse. tensions rise as they set up camp in a warehouse, where alex begins to confess how he feels towards the reader. (angst into fluff <33)

tw: zombie apocalypse, blood (ment), cursing, guns, death, eating.

It had been three months since the fallen of mundane life. Three months of complete abnormality, everything known to be in existence that was worth caring about; completely gone. jobs, currency, education were becoming a historic relic. The world was put back to zero. Instead of cavemen and dinosaurs, the new species of flesh-eating corpse’s roamed in packs and seeked for fresh meat. They may have been slow, but they travelled in numbers and they could smell you from a mile away. I learned that your scent became less of a problem when you didn’t keep hygenic. My stence blended with the earth and blood and the roamers didn’t catch us out as much; so we used that to our advantage.

I only had one companion, his name was Alex. He was absolutely dumbfounded when I discovered him. I raided his abandoned home looking for supplies, and when I had to kill a roamer that vacaded in his bedroom; I found him curled up in a ball under his bed. He told me that he had been hiding the whole month when he realised help was to never come; so his only plan was to hide out until he ran out of supplies. That became a problem when I attempted to take them. We made the mutual agreement that if I was to take the supplies, he would come with me. I refused to stay and hide; that is how you get yourself killed. Thankfully he agreed to come with me, and we have been inseperable ever since. However, our bond is nothing close to a friendship, we just had to stick together to survive.

Alex’s main idea was to find a group, hoping by now someone had turned one of the surbubans into a mini civilization. We had travelled between three cities however and we found no sign of good company. As a duo, we have only killed one human within these three months. A man who tried to kill us at gunpoint in hopes of taking our things, to which we scarsely saved our lives by ducking behind a bar table. With one aimless shoot, I shot my gun and it pierced through the man’s chest. I saved our lives, but the sight of the man’s lifeless eyes still haunts me in my sleep. 

One night, Alex found a two-store warehouse to shelter in while on a supply run. He suggested we camp on the second floor and catch up on our sleep and starvation, since we eventually got ahold of sleeping bags and tinned food. I agreed, but reminded him the stay can’t be perminant. He agreed also, still fixated on the idea of finding a commune.

While I made a fire and cooked food, I obvserved Alex drawing in a notepad. I failed to make out what he was doing so I asked, “What are you drawing?”

“I’m trying to draw a map.” He said to me, “It’s not accurate, but it will give us a rough idea of the roads until we find a map.”

“I didn’t take you as a smart person.” I said, hoping he didn’t think I meant it seriously. It was rare for me to joke in times like these, but when I did, my humour came off dry. Thankfully, my comment made Alex scoff out a chuckle.

“And I didn’t take you for a fighter.” Alex said. Since being with each other for two months, we both naturally adopted different roles that benefitted us. Alex was the navigator, the finder; he seemed to have a good sense of direction and I relied on him to not get lost. He also had a good eye and was always good at finding things such as second-way exits or food hiding in obscure places. For me, my job was a lot more physical. I was a good shoot, I knew how to make a fireplace, or bandage a wound. When things got dirty, I would get lucky and save our asses.

“Your food’s ready.” I said, handing him his warm can of chicken soup and a packet of chips. He thanked me, putting his notebook down and sitting cross-legged beside me. As we ate we sat in silence, the only sounds in the warehouse being our mouths chewing the food. We hadn’t ate in nearly a week. I tried my best to chew my chips before swallowing so I didn’t end up with stomache pain, but the instant flavour shot through my tongue and I instinctly ate them quickly. Alex finished his food within minutes, licking the chip packet and his fingers; scraping every last bit of soup from the can and into his mouth. I reluctantly did the same, feeling a little embarrassed; I have never felt so starved in my life. 

“That was fucking amazing.” Alex sighed out, now heating his hands over the fire. I nodded in agreement, collecting the empty tin cans and keeping them next to our things. They will be handy for traps, tying them with strings and hanging them in the woods while hunting would let us know of intruders. It was the small things like that that has made us survive this long.

“Are you gonna go to sleep now? I could keep watch.” I offered, observing Alex’s bloodshot eyes. If we had mirrors, we would flinch at our reflections. Alex looked rough. He always wore his beanie, which he apparently did even before things got bad. He always had a collective spot of dirt on his nose and cheekbones no matter how clean we were, it’s where it always collected the most. His hands were the most dirty, dirt under his short nails and inbetween his fingers. From the rare occasions we touched hands, I felt the softness of his hands, compared to mine that felt aged and rough. His knuckles were stained with blood. Out of both of us, I was covered in the most blood. When I looked down, my hands had a reddish tint, observing more I could see small cuts on my hands from being idle with my knife when striking roamer’s heads. Without having to see, I knew I had sprays of blood on my face from the amount of times I killed roamers. To think when life was normal we cared so much about our appearence, but now activities like doing makeup, brushing your hair, brushing your teeth seemed so pointless. We were slowly becoming used to primitive life and deep down that scared me. I think it scared Alex too.

“I’m tired as fuck, but I know I won’t sleep.” Alex said in a low tone, looking at his hands full of shame. I nodded my head in understanding, knowing exactly how he was feeling. We hadn’t slept properly in months, instead when one person kept watch, the other just lay down with their eyes closed. We forgot what it was like to dream, or to feel hazy. We were constantly alert.

“Since we have no intention of sleeping. Why don’t we play a game?” Alex said. I cocked my eyebrow up in question. What game could we play that didn’t involve making noise and attracting attention?

“We ask each other 20 questions. Normally if you don’t want to answer a question- you would have to do a dare. But hey, wants the point in hiding nowadays?” Alex said, looking at me contently.

“We should be hiding ourselves more than ever, I think.” I said, adding fuel to the fire to keep it burning. “That way no one knows our weaknesses.”

“So you don’t trust me?” Alex said. His question threw me off. It’s not that I didn’t trust him, but maybe I was unwilling to get to know him. I had already lost the people close to me, and I was still in grieving. I was too afraid to get close with Alex. I always had the thought in the back of my head that one day, I might end up losing him. His intelligence may only get him so far.

“I understand.” Alex said, taking back his question. Seeing the hurt in my eyes, he must have realized what I was thinking. He lost his close ones too. We both lost so much, we had a mutual understanding about that. Yet, I looked at Alex, and he still felt like a mystery to me. He always pulled out jokes, even in times like these. However, in moments when he thought I wasn’t looking, I could see the pain concealed in his face. Sometimes I even heard him cry at night when he thought I was sleeping. Maybe it was about time we opened up to each other, instead of feeling like we need to suffer alone. We could be there for each other not just physically, but emotionally.

“Okay then, since it was your idea, you ask the first question.” I said, hugging my legs to my chest. Alex smiled a little at me, going into thought as he tried to think of a question.

“So, what did you do when life was normal?” He asked first.

I let out a sigh then replied, “I had a very normal life. Lived with my family, did average in school, worked a job to get money. I actually had plans of moving out to the city, I always wanted to go to LA. I never really had aspirations, just wanted to be content.” It sounded boring, but I was happy with my life. I had my ups and downs like everyone else. “What were you like?”

Alex smirked and looked away from me, seeming to become bashful. “I was a twitch streamer.” He said. “And had a Youtube channel. God- it sounds so stupid now that I say it. Like it was all pointless-”

“Were you like- famous?” I asked, trying to conceal a smile.

“Um- I guess you could say that. I had millions of followers.” Alex shook his head, “But I also went to college. I was studying law. I was always staying up late, barely sleeping; both studying and streaming all the time. It took up my whole life, that I just kinda forgot about everything else.”

“Well, you were obviously not famous, because I didn’t know who you were.” I jokingly said, nudging his side. That seemed to make him smile and feel less embarassed.

“So how the hell did you learn how to shoot if you lived such a normal life?” He asked.

“I just learned while doing it. My dad kept a gun.” I admitted, looking at the very same gun I had in the holster wrapped around my thigh. “He would teach me now and then how to use it, but I was never a shooter. The more roamers I shot, the more I got used to it.” Thinking about someone close to me made me chew the inside of my cheek anxiously.

To deflate my melancholy, I asked the next question. “Did you always wear that stupid hat?”

Alex chuckled and rubbed the top of his hat. “Yeah, twenty-four seven. I don’t why, I just find it comfortable. My “fans” would joke that I was bald because I never showed my hair.” He said, “God- saying the word fans sounds fucked up . . .”

“Maybe you’ll bump into one of them.” I said, “Heck- maybe there’s a commune right now dedicated to you, trying to find you and keep you safe.”

Alex laughed again, covering his face with his hands. I laughed alongside him, the first time I genuinely laughed in a good few weeks. Looking at Alex, seeing how I uplifted him, it struck a chord with me. As much as I didn’t like to show it, but he made affects on me that were indescribable. He made me feel just a little more contempt, without him I would probably not be able to cope for this long. We eventually locked eyes with each other, Alex’s gaze being longer than I expected. If it wasn’t for the blood, my face would have exposed the blush forming on my cheeks.

“Have you ever fell in love, (Y/N)?” Alex then asked me, which set me aback. The question was out the blew and I think Alex realised that as he looked away shyly, his gaze fixated on the flames of the fire to avoid my gaze. I still stared at him, almost in amazment, trying to conjuct a reasonable answer.

“I don’t know.” I answered. “I have loved people, yes, but- I don’t think I have been in love. You’re suppose to know when things like that happen, right?”

Alex didn’t answer me, he kept staring at the fire. I found myself admiring his side profile, watching how he slowly bit his lip; concealed in thought. I noticed how the glow of the flames contrasted with the darkness of his eyes, how the light outlined his complexion. When I realized I was staring for too long, I looked away, instead my eyes looked out the warehouse window, my eyes tracing the stars in the night sky. 

“I feel like I have known you forever.” Alex admitted all at once. “It’s only been two months, but I have gotten close to you more than anyone I have in my whole life. It might sound crazy but- I believe we were suppose to come together that day.”

My gaze turned back to Alex when I felt his eyes lay upon me. His stare was soft, something I only seen in passing times. I was able to admire him for the first time since we met. In this moment, in the dead of night, away from danger and suspicion; I could look at him with full sentiment. I didn’t need to admire him when he was less suspecting it, afraid of receiving decline or making things awkward. In this moment I realized, I may have developed feelings more than companionship towards him. That excited me. But also terrified me.

“I feel that way with you, Alex.” I admitted, “But . . .”

I decided to choose my words carefully. This conversation was heading in a direction that made me nervous. The world is falling apart around us, and I couldn’t help but question our motives. We should be focusing on survival, not developing a relationship that could be destroyed at any second. Once we step out this warehouse, our chances of losing our lives become high. I wasn’t prepared to damage my mental state, it was already bad enough. I realized my long pause was making Alex shift nervously, so I looked at him in hopes my words would slip from my mouth.

I caved in, muttering lowly, “We should get some rest.” I got up on my feet and was ready to grab my sleeping bag and make up a place to rest, until I heard Alex get his his feet and say words that made my heart sink.

“Am I not enough?”

When I turned to look at him, the hurt was glistening in his eyes. He gulped dryly and he fumbled with his fingers. My eyes shifted from side to side as I was stuck with my words. I kept stammering, and I rubbed my face in stress, ready to plead my case. Until Alex jumped in.

“Don’t think I’m only saying these things to you because there is no one else, (Y/N). I have been thinking about this for a while, everytime I am left with my thoughts. I am certain I will still have the same feelings if we met when things didn’t go to shit. I don’t just think this because we have been the only people for each other. I really really like you, (Y/N). And because of the way the world is, I never want to lose you. I never want you to feel alone ever again. I not only want to protect you because we’re a team, I want to protect you because the thought of losing you pains me so much.”

For a split second I thought Alex was about to burst into tears. That was when I did something I thought I would never do again, which was pull him into my embrace. I hugged Alex so tight that I heard him gasp, freeze, until he eventually wrapped his arms around me and held me just as tight. My face buried into the crook of his neck, feeling the warmth of his body, his soft hands caressing my back and brushing his thumb down my spine in a soothing manner.

“You are enough, Alex.” I said, my words muffled by his body. I reached my lips to his ear so he could hear my words clearly. “I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to like me, or be forced to like me just because we were brought together. I was afraid you thought you were stuck with me.”

I anticipated the day that once we meet other life, Alex would slowly fade away and forget who I was. Once he meets other people, we would go our seperate ways. I never knew why the hypothetical idea pained me so much, until now. As Alex pulled away from my embrace, looking me in the eyes in a loving manner that was foreign to me, his hands on my shoulders, I realized why that idea made my heart feel heavy. I never want him to leave me, I want him to always be by my side. Alex’s gaze was enough proof that he wanted the same.

Stimulated by his touch, I was taken aback when I felt his hand cup my cheek. The warmth of his breath breezing against my cheek, I inhaled as if oxygene was nonexistent. I never realized the proximity between us was slowly closing in and when I did my eyes fluttered shut. Alex hesitated for a split second before pressing his soft lips against my own. My neck bent slightly backwards and I shifted my head to the side to deepen into our kiss, my blood-stained hands grabbing the edges of his open jacket and holding him dearly close. The heat of the kiss intermingled with the heat from the fire, my cheeks and ears grew hot. Alex’s hands were surprisingly warm as he reached his hands under my shirt, pressing his fingers and palms on the middle of my back before running his touch down my spine. My breath became shaky and I felt my legs grow heavy under me, my hands cupped the back of his neck to keep myself uplifted, and luckily Alex’s arms held my weight and pressed my body against his. It felt like hours had went by between our lips moving in sync, our tongues grazing our bottom lip’s, our hands moving and resting on different parts of our bodies. His touch felt contagious, his kisses ranging between soft and passionate. I didn’t want to stop, I never wanted to let go. Between kisses I would mutter you are enough, you are enough which made Alex smile against my lips.

That night, everything we had to worry about became last priority. The focus all throughout was each other, making up for the days where affection couldn’t be shown. In the dead of night, there wasn’t a roamer in sight. Instead of hearing narls and groans or screams of pain, there was only the faint sounds of nature. The full moon glistened, as if to be a prediction for the emotions spilling between us. I promised myself from this moment on, as I admired Alex, I would protect him no matter what. I will make sure he always feels safe as long as he is beside me. He will always be enough, if not more.

TAGLIST: @momo-has-a-gun @diggorysmalfoy @quack42069​ (join my taglist)

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Love Cuts Deep

Chapter 7- Touch Me Under The Stars

Bucky Barnes x reader Series Rewrite (Civil War, Infinity War/Endgame, TFATWS)

Summary: Now that Bucky is finally out of Cryo, the two of you adjust to life in Wakanda.

Warning: fluff, smut (it gets spicy), Bucky being soft

Masterlist

Life in Wakanda was something you could never have ever dreamed of, they literally had everything here. The buildings were huge, the people so interesting and lively, the scenery absolutely breathtaking, and the tech? Out of this fucking world to put it bluntly. Tony Stark who?

Though you’d be a lying fool if you claimed to be fully satisfied with your new corner of the globe, you had a place to exist and feel comfortable in, even a nice apartment overlooking the city that’s attached to where Bucky is currently being held in.

Right. Bucky.

He’s been on your mind as of late, well in actuality he’s been consuming most of your brain processing for the past couple weeks since you and him arrived here with T’Challa and Steve after the mess in Siberia.

Another painful memory added to the already long list of traumatic experiences endured by you throughout these past sixty or so years. But you’re surviving, well enough for the most part that is; you see Steve left soon after Bucky went into the Cryo chamber. Leaving yourself all on your lonesome in a strange new country with no friends but T’Challa.

If you could even consider him a friend.

Who by the way, makes you still feel pretty uncomfortable around considering all the times you beat the shit out of each other in the past, and he thought you and Bucky killed his dad, so it’s been light treading even if he insists it’s all in the past.

On a lighter note you met his little sister Shuri, who upon discovering who you were and what you can do, immediately began marveling at the fact that you have Adamantium claws in your forearms. She was thoroughly impressed and asked for you to cut a lot of random expensive looking objects for scientific purposes only.

Well that’s what she claimed at least. Other then then those two, you’ve been pretty solitary for the most part. Which has really started getting to you recently, something that T’Challa has begun to notice.

That man is too observant for his own good.

Wind rustles the jungle trees from outside this large glass window in the lounging area of King T’Challa’s extravagant home. They sway freely in the open sun as they stretch their great green leaves to the beautiful sky above. But no bout of joy resides in your heart this day, no matter how enticing the weather may appear.

Soon a new presence is felt in the room, though it’s nothing to be alarmed about as he walks to your side, a thoughtful yet concerned expression crossing over his kingly features, “Are you finding your stay here welcoming Y/N?” Wonders T’Challa softy as you slowly blink.

“I am.”

He frowns, you’ve been quit talkative before, but now you barely even speak to anyone, “My friend I know you are not alright. Please tell me what troubles your heart.”

Dammit he’s good.

Sighing, you hug your sides as he patiently awaits an honest answer, frowning, you reluctantly begin, “I thought I would be fine....I’ve always been alone for most of my life anyways. Never counted on anyone but myself. Never needed anyone but myself. That’s how I survived. It’s just now.....I have Bucky. And I care about him more then anything in the world, but he’s gone.......well not really but, you know.” You whisper before turning your head towards some tall trees so that the king cannot see the way that your eyes brim with unshed tears. God the ache you feel for him is almost unbearable.

Understanding your deep sorrow from your lovers absence, T’Challa slowly nods, “I cannot fully express an understanding of your pain, as I have never felt it like the way that you have now. Nor have I lived the life of your own.” He admits as you turn your head to catch him in your peripheral vision, not quit ready to meet his unthreatening gaze.

He swallows before continuing, “But this I do know, you are a warrior if I’ve ever known one, and I know many.” Chuckles the king, “You fight fiercely and love deeply, Bucky should be proud to have you by his side. I may envy that kind of love, though I should not say it, it is true.”

A stray tear slides down your cheek as you quickly wipe it away with the back of your hand, “Love.” You whisper softly in thought, “I do love him, yes....very much. I’ve been withdrawn lately, because well, I guess I miss him more then I’d realize I would. I hope your people help him. That’s all I ask for, I’ll wait forever if I have to.”

“You might not be waiting quit that long actually.” Reveals Shuri as her familiar footsteps wander into the large sun-lite room overlooking the jungle, “My team just needs a couple more days with him and he’ll be good to go for the most part. Though the process of fully becoming free from the trigger words may take a little longer....his mind will still need time to heal.” Explains Shuri as she moves to stand on your left, opposite of her half-brother.

At this your heart speeds up with excitement, eyes turning to face the smiling princess , “I don’t want to threaten royalty, but I might break a couple of your lounge chairs if you’re lying to me. I’m not joking.” You add half jokingly as T’Challa lightly chuckles.

“Now I do not doubt that.”

——

Today you’ve been summoned into the lab in preparation for Bucky’s defrosting, claiming that having a familiar face as the first thing he sees was probably the best for when he wakes up again, at least that’s what the doctors told you.

And of course you didn’t even hesitate to say yes. So now here you are in their cleaner then a soap bottle lab, standing nervously a couple feet away from the Cryo chamber as some scientists go about their duties to his left. It’s strange, he looks relatively peaceful and serene, like he’s having a nice little nap while standing upright and covered in frost.

Nonetheless Bucky looks handsome as always, soon a tiny subconscious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you await the aftermath of the defrosting process. A button is hit and the familiar whoosh of the air chamber fills your ears as bouts of warm white steam push up into the air from the bottom and sides of his chamber.

The inside goes foggy before one of the scientists flicks a switch and the glass door pops open to emit a plethora of tiny clouds that float up and dissipate just as quickly. In the aftermath, your eyes search for Bucky, he’s still sleeping and is covered in a couple specks of blue frost, his hair undoubtedly wet from the chamber’s atmosphere.

“Give him a moment, he may be slightly disoriented as the body wakes up again.” Explains Shuri from the doorway as you bite your bottom lip anxiously in anticipation for when he’s finally conscious.

“Right.” You nod in understanding, “Not like this isn’t the first time I’ve seen him this way.” You mutter with a depressing chuckle.

A second later you’re alerted to the sound of someone sucking in a deep breath, immediately your head snaps over to witness as Bucky stirs, his fingers curl back to life as his lips part. Then soon after his two icy blue pools slowly reveal themselves to the rest of the lab as he takes a look around.

Your fists grip tightly onto the fabric of your jacket as Bucky swallows before blinking back the slight blur of waking up from a couple weeks of hibernation. The scientists, Shuri, and you study his movements as Bucky’s brow raises in thought, his eyes only on you.

“How longs it been?” He wonders before taking a step to get out of the Cryo chamber.

“Exactly a month and a half Mr. Barnes.” Chirps Shuri enthusiastically as he nods in understanding before she gives a glance between the two of you, “Alright, I’ll give you and Miss. Valerious some time to catch up while we check your vitals.” Adds the princess before exiting out the door, the other scientists following suit.

Now it’s just you and your Bucky; glancing at the floor, the two of you wander into a semi-awkward silence before he finally breaks the ice, “You look good.” He mutters softly, a small reassuring smile on his pink lips as your eyes trail up to meet his.

Revealing a breathy laugh, you shrug, “Hardly. But you on the other hand, white, I like it. It’s a good color on you.”

His stubbled cheeks flush pink as he smiles brightly, “I think I remember you telling me the exact same thing before I went under.”

“Well I just told you again, because I mean it.”

“Well I like the new style..” Points Bucky to your outfit, “it’s Wakandian but very Y/N.....I like it.”

Shaking your head you begin giggling at his adorable compliment, “Barnes you’re too much....but seriously, how do you feel? Are you dizzy? Nauseous? Thirsty?”

He smiles, “No, uh....I actually feel pretty good honestly. I could go for something to eat though, I’m starving.”

Walking over you gently take his hand in yours, “Say no more. T’Challa’s got everything here.”

——

After Bucky got readjusted and evaluated by Shuri’s team of incredible scientists and brilliant doctors, Bucky was well on his way to a full recovery from the years of mental torture given to him by Hydra. The words didn’t affect him anymore, the anxiety surrounding the very thought of breaking and turning on everyone again was a thing of the past.

He was your Bucky, completely.

In the following days after, T’Challa found a nice place on the outskirts of the grand city where you and Bucky could lay low and recover for some time as needed. Not wanting to over due your stay in his lavish home, and also wanting to feel the breeze again, you both agreed to live in a little village on the edge of a large pond.

All of it was Wakanda, so neither you nor Bucky stressed any worry that the Romanian and German authorities would come bursting through the front gates to whisk you away for your crimes. Or Tony Stark for that matter, he definitely hates you guys without a doubt in your mind.

Definitly with good reason, but that doesn’t mean you’d ever dare give Bucky up.

But on to greener pastures, it’s truly a possible thing that you’ve never seen Bucky in colors besides black or faded red shirts. But now? He wanders around in the brilliantly beautiful colors of Wakanda and her people with a brighter smile on his lips and lack of one arm for the time being.

Ah yes, the arm.

For the most part he’s been fine about it, though he needs your assistance when getting dressed or when attempting to wash the grime from his growing mane. Although, and fortunately for you, he’s still quit proficient in the area of love making with no decline in performance with lack of one arm, much to your satisfaction and his.

Besides that, it’s amusing, since you’ve been staying in this little friendly village, the kids have begun calling him the White Wolf when they want his attention. Which in turn earns a small smile upon his lips, one because he knows you usually hear it and think it’s adorable, and two it’s probably the first honestly kind thing anyone has ever placed on him, ever.

Walking across the villages center area, past huts and ladies washing some of their tunics, you follow the excited rambling of one of the village children as she talks a mile a minute about how you just have to see this really cool thing right now without exception. So of course you have to see this really cool thing, right now.

“Y/N! Y/N! Come! Faster you’re going to miss it, hurry you’re being slow.” Urges Ryn’a with a wave of her hand as she beckons you to starts running with her.

Heeding to her urgent request, you give her aunt a pursed lip grind before racing after the sprinting child, “This better be very interesting, or I’ll throw you into the water again!” You playfully threaten as she giggles across the grassy field.

Soon you’re crouching behind a rock as she peeks over the stony edge, ducking back down, she gives you a mischievous grin, “The White Wolf doesn’t see us.”

Raising a brow you nod, “This is what you wanted me to see? Him?”

Shaking her head she rolls her dark eyes in amusement, “No. We’re hunting.” She smirks in excitement as your brows furrow in confusion. Huh?

“Uh.....what?” Suddenly you connect the dots, “Are we hunting the White Wolf?” You ask, pretty damn positive that’s where this little adventure is going.

Shaking your shoulder excitedly she squeaks with joy before instantly catching herself and quieting down real quick, “He’s just over this rock. Chopping wood for the fire tonight....we need to hit him with a stick okay, then we run.”

Slowly nodding, your eyes trail over her excited face, “Hmm, okay. But I gotta ask, did Kova put you up to this and I’m now an accomplice?”

Biting her bottom lip, she diverts her gaze to the bushes behind you before mumbling out, “He might have......and if I was to hit the White Wolf on his head without getting caught. I’d get to play the drums for the fire tonight.” She whispers almost embarrassed.

Giving her a kind smile, you gently touch her shoulder in reassurance as she looks to you now, “Well then. Looks like we’re on a wolf hunt today, huh. Lucky for you, I’m great at throwing sticks.”

Immediately she squeals in joy before standing as still as stone, “Sorry.”

“No worries. I don’t think he heard a sound.” You reply, snatching a ruler sized stick from the ground before peeking over the grey sun kissed rock.

There he is, in his red tunic completely oblivious, using a Vibranium axe to chop away at the wood for tonight’s fire dance. Sitting back down, you press your back against the stone as Ryn’a clenches her fists in excited anticipation, “Ready, Y/N?” You nod as she smiles.

“Okay good....don’t miss.” She warns.

“I never miss.” You muse before turning back around, your eyes peek up over the edge and watch as Bucky sets another log on the flat rock, he hauls the axe down, splitting the wood in two.

Setting the axe down again, he walks over to the small log pile before selecting one and setting it back on the flat rock, bending down to grab the axe and when he stands to his full height again...

Smack!

Instantly the dry weather worn stick flies from the back of his head to the ground below as he throws a wary look in your direction. Though he sees absolutely nothing but a big grey rock and some bushes. Touching the back of his head, he looks down and swiftly picks up the relatively unthreatening piece of dried wood.

Studying it like it’s the holy grail and will give him all the answers to eternal life and whatnot, he throws it to the ground before continuing with his duties as you turn back to Ryn’a. “That was a good hit.....can you do it again? Please?” Mutters the little beast as you settle down from that adrenaline rush of perfectly nailing Bucky in the back of his head without getting caught.

Let’s not forget you were one of Hydra’s most deadliest assassins.

Her dark chocolate eyes stare pleadingly and puppy-like as she fake pouts, “Please Y/N? I won’t ever leave another turtle in your house ever again....promise. I promise, please?” She quietly begs as you contain your laughter.

“Yeah alright. But you’re gonna have to run cause he’s probably gonna figure out where the second one came from.” You add with a smirk, “I’ll deal with the wolf after. I can take him.”

“Yes!” She squeaks, “Oh, sorry I mean....yes.” She whispers quietly as you search for a new stick to throw.

Soon enough you find another and cautiously look around the side of the rock this time, there’s Bucky, setting another log on the flat rock before slicing it in half. Instantly the biggest grin pulls your lips into a Cheshire Cat smile as he turns to grab another log.

Smack!

“Hey! Who was that?!” He shouts in confusion as Ryn’a bursts with laughter before booking it back to the safety of the village while you crouch there behind a rock cackling like a child.

God that was such an accurate hit too. And he didn’t even see it coming.

Suddenly you hear the sounds of feet running against the earth, when Bucky makes it to the back of the large rock you’re nowhere to be found. Brows furrowing, he looks at the bushes and then over to the nearby village before shaking his head and turning around to walk back over to his usual duties for the day.

Only now he’s confronted by the casually innocent face of you who’s standing there with the axe slung over your shoulder, “Something scare you Barnes?” You muse with a small laugh before nodding towards the wood, “I mean these logs can be pretty scary I won’t hold it against you. You might have seen a snake, who knows.”

Sauntering back over to you he stands there for a moment just observing your casually calm self, “Why do I have a suspicion you just hit me with a stick. Twice.”

Shrugging, you slam the axe into the dirt before rising up to meet his humored gaze, “Maybe it was a Rhino, maybe it was a little nine year old who needed me to win her a drum. Guess you’ll never know.”

Glancing from the ground then back up to you again, Bucky shakes his head at your theatrical antics, warm smile ghosting across his lips, “Well just so you know it didn’t hurt.” Assures your big tough man with a nod.

“I’ll use a bigger stick next time.” You quip as he takes a step closer to you.

Handsome face breaking out into a beaming grin, “Come on, let��s go for a walk. I’m tired of chopping wood.” He says as his fingers ghost against the bare skin of your sleeveless shoulders, “I just want to be with you.”

Touching the side of of his stubbly cheek affectionately, you smile, “Where too? By the pond?” Which causes him to snort a breathy laugh.

“No, I don’t trust you by open water.”

You shrug in agreement, remembering the first time you both arrived here and the children brought you into a splashing fight where you got Bucky’s hair all wet, “Yeah that’s fair.”

——

After enjoying a pleasant evening walk together, eating a delicious traditional Wakandian meal, and watching the performers for the celebration dance and beat on their drums for hours into the night. You and Bucky decided to steal away from the festivities and have a little moment together under the stars, just you and him, nothing and no one else.

“That was nice wasn’t it.” You mutter as he lays on his back next to you, “I like these people. They’re kind.”

Turning his head to meet your shadowed face, he smiles adoringly as you keep a steady gaze set on the stars above, “Well, no ones trying to kill us so I’d say we’re doing alright.”

“We are, aren’t we. Who would have thought that shit huh? Two ex-assassins, two fucked up people like us laying like sappy teenagers under the stars. This almost feels like some stupid romantic film.”

Bucky lets out a proper laugh this time as you send him a humored look, “What? I’m being honest!”

Quickly he rolls onto his side to face you, a new sultry flicker flashing through his dark gaze, “Maybe I like being sappy with you.” He mutters lovingly before trailing a finger across your jaw as you study his face.

“Sappy with me? Why Mr. Barnes are you flirting with me this fine evening?” You muse with a breathy chuckle as he smiles brightly down at you.

“I was hoping you’d notice, is it working?” He asks, a hopeful look in his dark blue eyes.

Leaning closer, he’s pleasantly surprised when you gently press your lips to his, “My God James you’re making me swoon.” You jest before snickering at your shitty old-timey accent replacing the Eastern European one, “Why I’ve never met such a character, now tell me Mr. Barnes, are you a single man?”

Holding in his laughter, he takes a breath before answering, “Doll, I’m taken.”

Gasping in mock surprise, you quickly sit up before pushing him onto his back by both shoulders, your legs to either side of his torso as your faces keep mere inches apart, “Well, well, well how about that.” You slyly tisk, your natural accent dripping heavily as it sends a thrill through Bucky, “Lucky woman indeed. But I can guarantee you, I’m much more enticing.”

Bucky shivers as you lean your body closer to his, your silky hands to either side of his flushed face as you smile a devilish grin in the darkness, “I don’t doubt it.” He rasps, voice just barley above a whisper, lips so close to yours now you could almost taste him.

“I just realized something.” You suddenly mumble against his plush inviting lips.

Bucky hums in reply, to completely and utterly enthralled by your seductive charm to even form a coherent sentence, you smirk before rising to properly sit up against him, “Bucky, you look better in the dark.”

His stomach rises with a deep laugh that rubs pleasingly against your growing warmness as he gently squeezes a hand on your right thigh, “You’re gonna get it for that one.” He muses, appearing like he’s about to flip you over but you’re not having any of that.

Pressing a hand against his firm chest, you suddenly grind your clothed nether regions slowly and meticulously against his lower stomach. He quickly lets out a low guttural moan as you lean down to press a chaste kiss against his lips.

Pulling away, you rest one hand on the thin Wakandian blanket that’s keeping you two from the dirty ground below, your other hand gently trailing down the side of his stubbly face, “Just let me make love to you okay? If you want that i...”

“Yes!” Interrupts Bucky with a great bout of enthusiasm before catching himself, “I mean....uh, yes please.” He mutters, failing to regain his composure as you circle your hips against his fiery skin. Oh, you are certainly enjoying yourself.

Smiling into the half moonlight, your eyes trail cautiously over to the burning village bond-fire a small trek away, seeing everyone laughing and minding their sweet business you then immediately pull your shirt off, your bra following right after just as quickly. Laying discarded on the nearby grass for later; Bucky’s eyes go wide with lust as the outline of your curves and protruding breasts flash like gold in the moonlight.

God you’re so beautiful, he thinks, and all mine.

The smile that Bucky gives you could just about light up a room on the darkest of nights, he wants you, he needs to be consumed by you, to feel you for all that you are. You can see it by the way that he rubs your partially exposed thigh, by the way his eyes never leave yours and when they do it’s to wander around your divine vessel.

He’s never been more in love then in this very moment, if that’s even possible; he’s never really spoken too deeply about it, his time with Hydra. But he’s undoubtedly glad that you found him when you did, he was in a dark place then. Lost and alone, on the run and keeping to the shadows as best he could from the rest of the hungry eyes of the world.

Then one day out of the blue you showed up with nothing but your wits and a kind smile to show you meant no harm, all you wanted was to see him again after all that time apart from your escape and his imprisonment with Hydra. He was sent to kill you, but you came back to him anyways.

He didn’t understand it at first, when he began to realize what falling in love truly felt like, but with time it came to him. At first sight wasn’t something that happened by any means, he was nervous to see you, standing there so innocently in his apartment in Bucharest. He thought he was being careful, he thought he was safe.

But then Hydra’s most prized weapon and most difficult one at that, you, had shown up to make sure he was okay. He couldn’t believe it, but what scared him the most as he let you stay with him, he was slowly but surly beginning to fall in love with you.

Now that was a new feeling he hadn’t felt in decades, you intrigued him, made him laugh with the simplest of offhanded side comments, made him try to be a better person. And most of all you made him feel wanted and loved, and that is something he will always hold dearly to his very heart and soul.

Because as you’ve said to him, you’re his ride or die no exception, you’ll always be there to throw a punch for him or to gather himself in your arms when the darkness threatens to consume him for all he’s worth.

You’re not afraid of him like so many are, you don’t run from danger, oh no, when Bucky’s concerned. You’re ass will fight to exhaustion to keep him safe and alive. Which so far has proved a very useful state of mind in consideration to the past events that have currently led you two on this ever changing roller coaster.

From Bucharest to Berlin, a flight to Siberia and a long skip down to Wakanda; you two will be by each other’s side no matter the distance. Because to put it bluntly, you’re all Bucky has left in the world and Bucky is all you have either, one without the other would be a dreadful existence.

Luckily for you, Bucky’s incredibly alive and doing pretty damn alright all things considered. Also for the current moment, he’s becoming an undone mess underneath you. Which is just what you’ve wanted, he deserves it.

Trailing a fiery pathway of butterfly kisses from his collarbone all the way up to his neck and jawline, Bucky emits a deep groan of pleasure as you palm him through his baggy pants that have started to tent with the pull of his growing hardness.

His lower half is still clothed while your whole body is free for the shimmering stars to bear witness to, and Bucky of course. “Y/N. Please.” He rasps as you feel up his clothed manhood while you grind tirelessly against his bare stomach, the sensation no doubt drawing you into a blissful rising climax to follow.

Stopping your pleasurable attack to his hardened member, you swiftly roll off of him as you decide it’s time to get things rolling, “Alright hot stuff get that shit off, I need you inside me right the fuck now.”

“Give me a sec...” Grunts Bucky as he kicks off his pants into the grass before you help him prepare to slip off his underwear, holding the top rim of the fabric, you generously pull it to his ankles before he kicks them off completely.

He chuckles as your face flashes with delight once all the goods are finally shown at long last, “See something you like?” Quips your man as your head snaps up to meet his amused gaze, huh were you staring?

A hot second later you’re hovering directly above his heated body as he strains from grabbing your soft hips and pushing your slick entrance into him. He wants you to enjoy yourself more then anything in the world, so instead does he pull you in for a heated kiss.

“I see many things that I like.” You whisper against his soft lips before slowly sinking down onto him, the sensation of his fullness and girth pulling you into a world of bliss.

Your smile is almost provocative as he moans, the sounds of his pleasure sending sparks of electricity into your system, “God Buck, you feel so fucking good.” You praise, rolling your hips back and forth against him shamelessly, God he loves it when you sweet talk him

He smirks against the corner of your lips before kissing your cheek, “You.....to-too.” Stutters Bucky while you continue to relentlessly ride him like a wild bull, the rocking of your hips causing him to forget how to properly speak.

He looks absolutely angelic, dark locks spread out upon the Wakandian blanket, shirtless, and face smiling with great happiness and joy that he’s been so terribly deprived of for such a long time. Not anymore. Not if you can help it.

Biting your lip when his member twitches inside you, you’re helpless to stop as a soft voluptuous whimper leaves your parted lips unexpectedly when he bucks his hips into you for some more friction. Noticing how well this new action is being received by you, Bucky does it over and over again until you’re nothing but a moaning mess above him.

Dammit he knows how to make you feel good.

Your body falling fully onto him as he makes you cum hard, “F-fuck.....oh God Buck, fuck me.” You mumble against his lips as he thrusts up into you over and over until he finally spills inside you with a concentrated grunt.

“oh.” You gasp breathlessly as Bucky flips you onto your back in one skilled motion, still deep within your wet warmness as his whole body presses you wonderfully into the soft blanket, “I hope they can’t see us.” You point out as Bucky chuckles before kissing your jawline, strong hips pushing against yours as he parts your legs further with his large body.

“It’s dark out.” Mutters Bucky in reply as he pulls another moan from your sweet lips, “They’re dancing.....and we’re....oh fuck....uhh....yes...” He can’t even finish his sentence as you suddenly squeeze your walls tightly around his cock as a second orgasm hits you, “Dear God Y/N.” Moans Bucky while you trail pink fiery lines down his muscular back.

Smiling against his lips, you fully enjoy the sensation of his thick member sliding in and out of you at a blissfully rapid pace as he continues to make a mess down there with his pleasure inducing actions. You’re incredibly grateful for the fire dance celebration happening a little ways away and all the loud pounding of the tribal drums that masks over the sounds of yours and Bucky’s intense love making on the Wakandian savanna.

Biting your lip, you can’t help when more whiney moans slip from your mouth, he’s a relentless force of lust and love that’s on a mission to see you filled to the brim with pleasure once more. He needs you, he wants every single inch of your heated vessel, he needs you to come for him just one last time.

“Y/N.” Mumbles Bucky against your parted lips as you slowly nod in acknowledgment, too fucked out to think. He smirks, “Cum for me, last time okay.” Says your lover sweetly as his hips roll against your sweaty skin, sending waves of building pleasure on a crash course for your hot core that’s pulsating in delight.

Digging your nails into the slick muscle of his broad back, you suck in a breath while his hard member slides in and out of you with ease. You’re about to come undone right under him yet again, the power of this man you could just about die happy, “Fuck,” You whimper helplessly as he kisses your cheek, “oh God Buck I’m close.”

He smiles proudly as his hips thrust forward, cock sliding deep within your warm walls as his manhood presses on the brim of your entrance, working absolute wonders on your over-stimulated clit.

Soon enough, the tight coil bursts open, sending shock waves of absolute radiant bliss that causes your muscles to tighten and shake reflexively. A sudden wetness slips out around his cock and onto the Wakandian blanket that’s definitely going to need a deep cleaning tomorrow.

The new liquid slides down your inner thighs as your body slowly yet surly comes down from your salaciously erotic climax; head unclouding the thick fog away, you take a deep breath only for yourself to realize you just squirted for the first time ever.

And it appears Bucky has just come to this thrilling realization too, locking eyes with him, you’re greeted with a sly smirk, “Did I just make you squirt?” Muses Bucky in underlying excitement as you simply roll your eyes.

“Well, it’s not like I can deny it considering it’s all over the blanket, among other places.” You sass back, still aware of how he’s still buried deep inside you, “Proud of yourself?” You add with a small laugh.

Kissing your lips in reply, he pushes himself up by his one arm to gently slip out of you before laying in an exhausted heap at your side, “Actually. Yes, I am very proud of myself thanks for asking.” Quips Bucky while his hand trails down your bare rib cage before a huge grin reveals itself in the darkness, “I just made my girlfriend squirt!” Shouts Bucky without a care in the whole goddamn world.

Smacking his arm, you quickly sit up and look around, though it appears no one even knows you two are out here, “Will you shut up!” You whisper yell down at Bucky who’s giving you the biggest white toothed smile ever, “Stop smiling it wasn’t that impressive.”

Faking a half offended look, he pats your leg affectionately, “It was! And you seemed to be enjoying it so just accept that I’ve gotten better at this.”

You scoff, “I never said you weren’t. It’s just we’ve been together for almost three years and that’s the first time I’ve ever done.....that. So..”

“And it just happened so therefore I am amazing and you’re just going to have to accept how hot I am Y/N.”

“Buc..”

“I was getting you all hot and bothered doll.” Winks Bucky seductively as you shake your head at him, a reluctant smile creeping onto your beautiful features anyway.

“God you’re so old.”

Bucky snorts, “And aren’t you 65 or something? Sleeping with a 90 year old man....Y/N you’re getting out of hand.”

Shoving his hand off of your leg, you swiftly fall into his side as his arm curls up to wrap protectively against your waist, “Bucky shut your ass up.” You snicker, “I liked you better when I was on top. All you did was give me that “oh god Y/N oh fuck me ohhh I’m gonna I’m gonna...”

Bucky squeezes your side, “Okay. Okay. I get it you little asshole....let’s just, let’s just rest a moment yeah?”

You hum, shifting yourself so that you can lay against his chest, “Getting mushy on me now Barnes?” You whisper softly with a playful smirk.

A small smile pulls at the corners of his plush lips while he glances down at you, “A little.”

For about twenty minutes the two of you keep silent, just listing to the yelps and thunderous pounding of the drums from farther away. There is no reason to leave, no reason to move, no reason to speak. Just you two, laying wrapped up together in each others loving embrace, taking in the moment for as long as you can. The future is always uncertain, so every single second with Bucky is a blessing to be cherished and consumed for all you can take.

His breaths are slow and steady as you feel the soft rise and fall of his muscular chest that’s pressed against your breasts and face. His fingers run gentle line up and down your naked skin as you hug him close.

“Do you remember when we first saw one another?” Asks Bucky, his voice almost startling you. Lips just barley brush against your naked shoulder as he holds you close, your face nuzzled comfortably against his dark hair.

You pause, eyes blinking as they shift over to Bucky while he awaits an answer, “It was a long time ago Buck.”

“I know. But do you remember?”

Shrugging, you shift a bit to have a better look at his face, “I do. But you were the Winter Soldier and I was.....something I never want to be ever again.” You mutter, the sadness and regret deep in your soft voice.

All goes silent for the next couple minutes before Bucky suddenly kisses your shoulder, “I thought you were beautiful.”

Yours brows raise as you pull from his right grasp to sit up on one elbow while you look down at him, a lump forming in the back of your throat as you hold back tears. You didn’t expect to get this emotional but here you are naked and bare for him, “You did?”

Bucky nods in the darkness, heart hurting when your voice cracks, he’s never told you a word about how he felt when he was a weapon, “And every day after that.”

“oh.”

“I didn’t want them to.....well, you know.....I didn’t want to forget you.” Confesses Bucky, “I’m so fucking glad I didn’t. Thank you for finding me Y/N....I owe you my life.”

Biting the bottom of your quivering lip, he smiles adoringly up at you, “Bucky....shut up you’re going to make me cry you bastard.” He laughs as you indeed shed a couple stray tears in this soft moment of vulnerability with your sweet man as he holds you protectively in his arm.

“I mean it...every single word, you mean so much to me Y/N. The world would be a darker place without you in it...”

You lower your head in shame, all those buried memories piling up all at once, “No. No it wouldn’t be....I’m part of the darkness Bucky...you know that..”

“Y/N, look at me, please.” Begs Bucky as you begrudgingly lift your head for him to meet your tearfully sad eyes, “Don’t let them win. What they did to us, what they made us do....you’re so much better then all of that. We’ve changed Y/N, for the better and you know it...the words can’t break me anymore and you, you’re free.”

“Okay.” Is all you’re able to rasp out before more tears fall willingly from your eyes, tiny water droplets of grief and remorse pattering against his bare chest, Bucky’s heart breaks for your pain and loss, and everything those fuckers at Hydra put you through before your escape to freedom.

He knows how much you hate yourself for all the innocent people you killed, granted not many were adherently innocent, but there where many that died by your hand because wrong place wrong time or by Hydra manipulation. Selling you false secrets that painted some people who were indeed good, as the enemy equal to the worst kinds of humans.

He knows, and he refuses to let you fall into this dark pit of despair, “I love you...okay, Y/N I love you so fucking much.” His words are well heard and received as you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

There he holds you tightly, there he will protect you with his life, and there he will stay with you under the stars until dawn breaks out over the horizon.

-

Tagged:  @diegos-butt @minigranger @bibliophilewednesday @holyhumorliteraturelight @lilacs-lavender @a-girl-who-loves-disney @starkssnarks @vikingqueen28 @bizarrebibitch @atomicpersonacheesecake @jmstz @staygoldsquatchling02 @marvelbros-oneshots @shawnartmendes​ @mischiefmanaged71 @jckie94​  @iamasimpingh0e

[jlalafics]

"Almost Paradise"-a birthday story for mrspeetamellark!

Happy birthday @mrspeetamellark! This is one day late but I hope you enjoy this continuation of your lifeguard!Peeta story!

You can find the first part here.

Also, mind the smut at the end.

______

“How do I look?” Katniss stepped into the living room where Annie and Finnick sat on the couch. “Do I look too much like a girl who’s seen nothing but forests and whose pastime is archery?”

She did a little twirl in her sleeveless green jersey dress and cropped jean jacket for the couple.

“You look cute!” Annie stood up, rounding her. “But take the jacket off.”

“And undo the braid,” Finnick added.

Katniss shrugged the jacket off, handing it to Annie before unraveling her braid.

“Why?”

“If you’re cold, he can’t give you his jacket or put an arm around you if you’re wearing one, can he?” Annie pointed out.

“And nothing is sexier than a hair flip and an over-the-shoulder smile,” Finnick told her.

Katniss snorted. “What do you mean?”

The man bent his head, throwing it back before looking over his shoulder to smile at Annie and Katniss.

“See?” Finnick smirked. “Irresistible.”

“Is that how Annie got you?” Katniss asked.

“No, it’s how he got me,” her cousin replied. “His hair was at his shoulders at the time.”

There was a knock on the door.

“He’s here!” Finnick screamed out excitedly.

Katniss laughed, going to the door. “I thought I was going out with Peeta.”

“I’m just really happy for you,” Finnick replied.

“He’s hoping that you’ll stay the night with Peeta so we can shag like rabbits,” Annie said as Katniss opened the door.

“I should at least take you to dinner before you stay over.”

Peeta stepped into the house, his eyes meeting Katniss’. He kissed her cheek.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Katniss looked over Peeta in his brown leather jacket, fitted white tee, and jeans. “You look great.”

“Yes, very dreamy,” Annie agreed.

Finnick fluttered his lashes. “I’d do you.”

“On that note, we should go,” Katniss told him. “Bye, guys.”

Annie gave her a hug. “Have a shit ton of fun.”

Taking Peeta’s hand, Katniss led him out the door.

“Use protection!” Finnick called out, just as the door closed behind them.

++++++

“My Mom is the local medicine woman while my sister assists her,” Katniss said as they strolled. “I’ve never been very good at all the medicinal stuff which is surprising since I usually go hunting with my Dad or Gale…well, maybe just my Dad now.” She turned to the man, smiling at her in amusement. “I’m talking a lot, aren’t I?”

“No, I like it,” Peeta said as he gazed at her. “You have a lot to say and I want to hear it all.”

“Maybe it’s because I kind of disappear into the background a lot of the time,” she told him. “Being a hunter and all. I mean, everyone who lives in my neighborhood looks the same. Dark hair, olive skin…Mom and Prim are the exception. Both blonde and blue-eyed.”

“Why is that?”

“My Mom grew up in the higher-class part of District 12,” she explained. “And she ran off with my Dad.”

“So, they were Star-Crossed Lovers,” Peeta replied.

“Yup, minus the gang fights and death.” Katniss looked around the line of shops along the wooden-slatted walkway. “Where are we?”

“This is District 4’s commercial area,” he explained. “This is where visitors like yourself might come to eat at a restaurant or buy some local goods. The folks from the Capitol come here during the summer and double our revenue for the year.”

“We don’t have anything like that in 12,” Katniss replied. “Unless you’d be interested in goat’s milk or cheese made by Prim’s goat.” Peeta raised a brow and she chuckled. “Yes, my sister has a goat.”

He reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze.

“Would buying goat’s milk score me brownie points with you?”

Katniss closed in the space between their joined hands. “Maybe.”

Peeta stopped, reaching to lift her chin. “Maybe?”

“Probably,” she relented, her chin wobbling in nervousness.

The way Peeta gazed at her was exhilarating and unnerving, all at once. It was as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. If she was being entirely honest, most of her thoughts regarding this strong-jaw, golden-haired man were not entirely clean.

“Are you hungry?” he asked.

Katniss swallowed harshly. “Starving.”

Peeta stepped towards her, his hands going to her shoulders—to turn her around.

In front of her was a storefront displaying an array of pastries and cakes, but it wasn’t the food that made her jaw drop slightly.

It was the sign.

“Mellark Bakery?” Katniss turned to him, a smile playing on her lips. “You have a bakery.”

“My family has one,” he told her simply. “I thought that we might explore some career options for you.”

Katniss was confused. “What?”

“You said that you didn’t have your dream job.” Peeta pulled her towards the entrance. “I thought maybe we could see if you cut it in the culinary world.”

“Or I could possibly burn the place down,” she retorted.

“Come on. If anything, it will be something worth remembering,” he told her.

“I can’t believe that you remembered the ramblings of a deranged woman who swam right into an undertow.”

“Kind of hard to forget when you were screaming in my ear.” Peeta put an arm around her, his mouth brushing against her lobe. Her legs almost caved at the motion. “I think it will be fun. Doing something together in the back of the bakery.”

“Fine.” Katniss let out a sigh. “You’re lucky you’re so damn cute.”

He kissed the top of her head affectionately.

“I’m lucky because you said yes.”

++++++

After stepping into the bakery, Katniss was introduced to Peeta’s parents, Charlie and Roberta.

“How did you get Peeta’s name?” she asked immediately. “Your names are surprisingly normal.”

The elder Mellarks immediately took to her with easy chuckles.

“I was under some heavy-duty pain relief after he came out,” Roberta answered. “And Charlie here was running on no sleep at that point. One of us must have sputtered out, Peeta.”

“They just wanted to be different,” Peeta told her, arm still slung around her shoulders affectionately. “But they kept in order.”

She turned to him curiously. “Meaning?”

“Nop,” Charlie replied, a grin that Peeta obviously inherited, on his mouth.

“You Mellarks are confusing,” Katniss said with a shake of her head.

“Not Nop, but N-O-P.” Peeta looked to his parents in affectionate exasperation. “As in Noli, Oren, and Peeta. So, as you can see, I got the best name of the bunch.”

“I guess I must be pretty boring with my plant name,” she replied. “At least, Prim got a sweet one, and it fits her perfectly.”

The bell at the top of the front door interrupted their conversation and Peeta quickly led her to the back of the bakery, where she was greeted by stainless steel counters and industrial ovens. There, Peeta told her that they would be making sticky buns for them to eat. He pulled his family’s recipe book from the back office and showed her the recipe.

“You’re the first non-Mellark to see this book in years,” he told her.

“Don’t worry.” Katniss smiled at the man beside her. “I won’t steal your precious recipes.”

They both got to work making the dough and Peeta showed her how to add the ingredients into one of the electric mixers. After, standing behind her, he instructed her on kneading the dough to the right consistency—smooth and just a little sticky.

“There you go,” he said lowly, his warm breath against the nape of her neck. Katniss’ breath quickened at the feeling of him pressed to her back. “Just put a little more pressure into the dough.” He moved her hair to one side, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You’re actually pretty good at this.”

Katniss made another fold, pressing into the dough.

“It’s actually relaxing,” she admitted.

Peeta took a bowl, placing the dough in it so it could rise.

While they waited, Katniss told him more about District 12, about the main street where there was very little commercial area. How her father recently retired from the mines and how one of her friends was the mayor’s daughter.

“You’d like Madge,” she said. “She’s very sweet, all blonde hair and blue eyes.” Katniss peered at him. “Maybe I won’t. I tend to become invisible when Madge is around—”

“I happen to have an affinity for brunettes with smoky eyes,” Peeta told her. “You’re not invisible, Katniss.” His arms wrapped around her, pulling her against his chest as he kissed her temple. “I see you.”

“Thank you for telling me that.” Katniss turned to look at him. “I see you, too.”

Peeta’s hands reached to cradle her cheeks and her breath hitched in anticipation. He leaned and Katniss didn’t pull away when he brushed his lips to hers. It was the gentlest of touches, but it spread through her like wildfire.

“More,” she breathed against their kiss.

Peeta shifted, and their lips once more. Her bottom lip was pillowed between his own and he sucked at her tender flesh, drawing a moan out of her chest. Her hands reached, carding through his hair to grip and anchor her as Katniss felt that she might collapse in pleasure at any moment.

“You are fucking delicious,” he whispered along her tongue. “I want to taste every part of you—”

“Well, don’t do it here!” They pulled apart to see Charlie at the doorway leading to the front. “I don’t want to tell my grandkid that he or she was conceived on the counter where their Dad was.”

“Moment’s over.” Peeta helped her off the counter—how did she even get up there? He gave her an apologetic smile. “For what it’s worth, that was one hell of a first kiss.”

She had to agree.

Katniss had wanted a kiss where she saw stars behind her eyes—and she did.

However, it didn’t compare to what she felt as their lips met.

Fire.

++++++

After being discovered by Charlie—or Dad, as he insisted Katniss to call her—the man had sent them away with a basket of bread and pastries, along with some cheese, meat, and wine. They had found a nearby parklet decorated with flowers and made sandwiches.

They sipped on their wine while Peeta told her more about the Mellark Family. Their bakery had been a staple in District 4 since Peeta’s great-grandfather had built it from the ground up. Roberta was a Capitol transfer that had come when she was in her teens in search of adventure. What she had found was love, Charlie sweeping her off her feet and putting a ring on it as soon as he could.

“I think Noli might’ve been the reason for the rush,” Peeta told her with a smirk. “Don’t let them know that I know.”

Peeta’s two older brothers were working in different Districts, Noli in District 2 and Oren in District 7, but visited often.

“Oren’s girlfriend is actually from District 7 and they’re visiting in the next few days. You should meet Johanna. I think you’ll like her.”

When they were finished with their food, they returned the basket to his parents and Peeta came back with keys to a Land Rover that had seen better days. The blue paint was rusting and when Peeta turned on the engine, she could feel the hard rumble directly under her.

They had set off on a tour of District 4 and Peeta had pointed out the Hall of Justice in their town square and the mayor’s home, a block away from it. He showed her where he and his brothers went to school. After graduation, Peeta had been the one who decided to stay in District 4 and would eventually take over Mellark Bakery.

He had a love for baking, finding peace in just creating.

Katniss admired that he had found his place in the world.

“Tell me about this guy you’re supposed to marry.”

She met his eyes as he stoked the bonfire in front of them.

They had settled on the beach after their tour, the tide low enough so they could settle close to the water.

“Gale is…complicated and simple all at the same time.” Her fingers dragged along the cool sand. The moon rose over the water, highlighting the curiosity on Peeta’s handsome, sculpted face as he waited for her to continue. “It would be simple to marry him and start a family. That been the plan—to him at least.”

“And why is he complicated?”

“Because I want more,” Katniss replied. “I’m not ready to settle. Not in District 12 and not with him.” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want lukewarm love…a lukewarm life. My family is great, but they know me enough to see that I’m floundering in 12. It was why Prim urged me to just leave after Gale got down on one knee.”

“She’s one smart sixteen-year-old,” Peeta remarked.

Katniss nodded in agreement. “Definitely an old soul.” She stood up, holding out her hand to him. Peeta took it and rose from his seat. “You ever want more?”

“Not until recently,” he told her, his blue eyes darkened in the moonlight.

The heat between them was inescapable. However, neither made a move to part.

Instead, their bodies only pressed closer until Katniss could feel the prickle of her hardening nipples against Peeta’s broad chest.

Her eyes went to his. “What do you want?”

“I thought that much was clear,” he told her roughly.

Their mouths met in a crushing kiss. Her hands grasped at his biceps as he encircled her waist, pressing his pelvis to hers and she pressed up, feeling the cloth of his jeans against her clit.

Peeta growled, his lips moving off to taste and suckle her skin. Katniss purred as he reached the juncture of her neck and bit lightly. She watched as he kissed along the neckline of her dress, his hands grazing the sides of her breasts teasingly before he sunk to his knees.

Panic gripped her and grabbed his wrists. “What are you doing?”

Peeta grinned. “What do you think I’m doing?”

“I’ll never come that way,” she told him simply. “And this has been better than anything I ever felt. I don’t want to ruin it.”

“Give me a chance,” he replied, his hands on her hips to keep her from joining him on the sand. “If you don’t like it, then we’ll stop.”

Slowly, Katniss acquiesced.

Peeta lifted her skirt, carefully tucking it up into the elastic waistline. He stared at her bare skin for a moment and she consciously rested a hand to her stomach.

Thank God, she wore her cute underwear.

“Lovely,” he breathed out.

Peeta kissed along her thighs, letting her get comfortable enough to widen the opening between them. His mouth pressed to the insides and she knew that he could taste her arousal, his tongue swiping quickly along the line of her panties.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he said hoarsely.

His mouth went to her clit, sucking through the lace, and she keened at the sudden twist in her belly.

Her hands moved to her panties and he helped her, guiding them off her before they found their place in his back pocket.

Peeta’s mouth was immediately on her cunt, roughly kissing along her sodden labia and her hands dug into his hair, holding him in place. This was something that she had never felt before, waves of desire pulsing through her core and she tried to catch that feeling with each swipe of his tongue.

“Ride my face,” he commanded, hitching her thigh over his shoulder. “I want to taste all of you.”

Katniss let out a breath at the desperate tone in his words. She pressed her pelvis closer to him, experimentally moving back and forth along his tongue as his hands cupped her bottom.

When her clit hit his nose, she let out a hiss. “Fuck!”

He chuckled against her cunt, before pressing his tongue flat against the nerve before thrusting two fingers inside her.

The euphoria took over and Katniss moved a hand to her chest, pinching a nipple and feeling the sparks of pleasure course to her core. Her other hand remained firm on Peeta’s head as he sucked and fucked her with his tongue and fingers.

Katniss felt herself there at the edge, surprised at how quickly Peeta had gotten her there—but she let herself fall into it.

Like that afternoon, she headed right into a riptide, knowing Peeta would be her rescuer.

“Oh…fuck…” Her hips canted on her own as she crested, pushing her cunt onto his face. “…I’m coming—” Peeta’s fingers quickened as he lapped at her peak. “…yes…Peeta!”

Her body snapped and Katniss arched, crying out into the dark sky as her orgasm crashed over her body and she felt the warm release seep out her conto Peeta’s waiting mouth. He was gentle, lightly tasting her as she came down from her high.

Carefully, they fell back onto the sand, breathing harshly, as they looked up the starry heaven above them.

Katniss reached for Peeta’s hand and he entwined their fingers, squeezing her hand tenderly.

Peeta tugged until she rested her head against his chest, and she sighed contently at the feeling of solidity that being with him brought her.

“I think I found what I was looking for,” she said quietly.

His hand settled in her hair. “And what is that?”

Katniss turned; her chin pressed to his chest so she could meet his azure eyes.

“You.”

Peeta smiled, the warmth of it spreading through her body and causing a flutter in her stomach.

She didn’t know if this was love, but she was willing to stay until she knew what it was.

“Do you want to go…” Peeta’s gaze was careful, his hand moving along her hair as to not break the spell between them. “…to my place?”

Finnick would be getting his wish.

Katniss nodded, a smile playing on her lips.

“Let’s go.”

*I’d like to do another part at some point…

[feysandfeels]

Which TS songs remind you of the different couples in SJM’s books???

Boy do I ??

You are a blessed soul for asking me this, and know that I adore you. 

There is now a part II to this.

Feysand:

Begin Again: “I've been spending the last eight months Thinking all love ever does Is break and burn, and end But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again” Baby Feyre finding that love is not toxic, that love is supportive, that love can be wonderful. “You said you never met one girl who had As many James Taylor records as you But I do” but think of is as “he said he never met a girl who wasn’t afraid of his power, but i do”. Also also “Walked in expecting you'd be late But you got here early and you stand and wave I walk to you” because Feyre’s used to T*mlin’s mediocre ass but Rhys surprised her by being a decent human and treating her with respect, which makes her realize that she was starved for respect and that T*mlin was not giving her what every decent human being should get from the get go from their partner.

Ivy: Feyre slowly falling in love with Rhys, thinking about Rhys in the Spring Court between Night Court visits Also throughout ACOMAF how she battles with her ever growing feelings for the Lord of the Night, while feeling guilty about T*mlin, because they *just broke up*: “Oh, goddamn My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand Taking mine, but it's been promised to another Oh, I can't Stop you putting roots in my dreamland My house of stone, your ivy grows And now I'm covered in you” and “I wish to know The fatal flaw that makes you long to be Magnificently cursed He's in the room Your opal eyes are all I wish to see He wants what's only yours”.

End game: I can practically see Rhys singing this in the shower thinking about Feyre, when she decided to work with him and him thinking like “YES THIS HAS TO BE A SIGN”. His reputation precedes him and in rumours he’s knee deep, him and Feyre would be a big conversation, he has enemies, he has heard about her and she has heard about him. He thinks “she’s so dope that he might overdose”. She’s been calling his bluff on all his usual tricks so here’s the truth from his red lips!!!!!

Dress: “Even in my worst times, you could see the best in me Flashback to my mistakes My rebounds, my earthquakes Even in my worst lies, you saw the truth in me And I woke up just in time Now I wake up by your side My one and only, my lifeline”. Need I say more? I think not your honor. 

Call it what you want: “I said you don’t need to save me, but would you run away with me?” That’s Feyre’s whole arc, I rest my case.

Nessian: the happiness I feel about the fact that these two are together is just enough to make me smile on a Monday

False God - The song literally opens up saying “We were crazy to think Crazy to think that this could work Remember how I said I'd die for you” HELLOOOO?? NESTA THINKING ABOUT THAT SCENE IN ACOWAR?? but also feeling that she’s unworthy of Cassian and that there is no way in hell that he will love her with all that she is.

Don’t Blame Me - The power of this song lies in the I unapologetic- powerful-full on I give myself to you and I will do it over and over again energy it has. And this is the energy that Nesta has for Cassian (even when homegirl really tries to pretend otherwise lol boo you tried). The “through your love I found salvation” religious aspect of Don’t blame me is Nesta, because through Cassian’s love and presence she found the perspective she needed on herself. Also this book was a religious experience for me. Jesus fuck.

Sparks Fly: From Cassian to Nesta, with love. First of all Cassian would be a diehard swiftie (all of the bat boys for that matter, merch a the concert, what will we do if we get invited to the rep room?? fans. Az woud be like the quiet yet “no, speak one ill word of Taylor and that’s your end, she did nothing wrong she was framed and I have evidence”). Second of all “The way you move is like a full on rainstorm And I'm a house of cards You're the kind of reckless that should send me running But I kinda know that I won't get far” That’s him alright, that’s him knowing that Nesta is a force to be reckoned with and he wants nothing nothing but to be in that storm and live within the force of nature that she is. Thirdly “My mind forgets to remind me, your a bad idea You touch me once and it's really something You find I'm even better than you, imagined I would be I'm on my guard for the rest of the world But with you I know its no good And I could wait patiently But I really wish you would” 

Elucien: This is an Elucien blog. 

Lover - In all honesty wanted to give this song to Feysand, because they are my main otp and this song is the highest of the high from Taylor, but I can’t deny the fact that this song screams Elucien. “With every guitar string scar on my hand” I think is a beautiful parallel for Elain and gardening, “My heart’s been borrowed, and yours has been blue” this speaks of Gr*yson and Jesminda, “I loved you three summers now but I want them all” that’s Lucien speaking ma’am. “Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?”, both of them about the bond. “And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me and at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover” we all know Lucien has a mind for dirty jokes and sass and Elain would always save him the sit next to her because he is the one who truly saw her and, in his distance, was the presence she needed while she figured it all out. Finally, The fact that the song has very clear wedding tones I think fits the headcanon, that more than a mating ceremony, Elucien would have a wedding, because it feels like something Elain would feel more comfortable with. 

Treacherous -“I can't decide if it's a choice Getting swept away I hear the sound of my own voice Asking you to stay”..... mmmmmm is this or isn’t it Elain getting closer to Lucien, but still wondering if it’s the bond or her, yet nonetheless surrendering to the fact that she wants him to stay. “This slope is treacherous This path is reckless This slope is treacherous And I, I, I like it” Elain doesn’t want an easy love, to simple do as the bond suggests she wants something that has twigs and branches and where she needs to question herself and truly ask what she wants out of life and this relationship. Also the softness of the melody juxtaposed with the vulnerability, brings a soft rawness that is Elain. 

King of my heart: Neither of them expected to feel like they could love with all the hope and unapologetic free falling feel characteristic of first loves, yet here we are. They rule their kingdom inside the room because they are discovering their feelings for each other away from prying eyes and people that have expectations on how they should work with the mating bond and all that. “Late in the night, the city's asleep Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep Change my priorities The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury” Again, with the love away from everyone, feeling their world shift around what they are starting to feel for one another. “Is the end of all the endings? My broken bones are mending With all these nights we're spending” did we say healing arc through love and support an “not expecting anything to come off this, but I just want to see you well” à la sjm?? I THINK WE DID.

Emorie: I’m working with crumbs here, delicious crumbs that will make a delicious emorie cake, but crumbs nonetheless.. I need more and I need it now.

I think he knows - My girl Emerie crushing hard hard haaaaaaaaard on Mor.

Cruel Summer - “I don't wanna keep secrets just to keep you And I snuck in through the garden gate Every night that summer just to seal my fate (oh) And I screamed for whatever it's worth "I love you, " ain't that the worst thing you ever heard” this is prime PRIME PRIME ANGST, we will get from these two.  

Gwynriel: this is an edit because I'm not a hoe for these two (yet...trust me once I see Az heal this is the tag where you will find me) and I did not know which songs might fit them and then when I posted it I was like WAIT WAIT I KNOW.

Gold rush - Gwyn talking herself out of her crush on Az after finding out about the whole necklace and being like “I don’t want a gold rush”.

Daylight - Az is a Taylor hoe first, spymaster second. She just makes him feel things. But in all seriousness “Like daylight It's golden like daylight You gotta step into the daylight and let it go Just let it go, let it goI wanna be defined by the things that I love Not the things I hate Not the things that I'm afraid of, I'm afraid of Not the things that haunt me in the middle of the night I, I just think that You are what you love” this is Az healing and being in better place where he can reflect on how he used to relate to love and romantic relationships, he now understands that love is not black and white but golden. He stepped into this notion of love and through it he found a beautiful relationship with Gwyn, he wants to be defined by the love he feels for her and the love he feels for his family, not by the things that haunted him, not by his mistakes, not by his trauma. He is golden, he is daylight, shadows and all he is daylight. 

Az + Elain: As a romantic end game they are not my ship, but I do stand by my pre-acosf position that these two would be really good friends

Out of the woods -  Where we stand after acosf I say that it is not far fetched that they might hook up and then realize that it’s not for them and that experience helps them access a new part of their healing: “They lost each other, but they found themselves”. The anxiety that this song mirrors is the anxiety of them knowing something doesn’t quite *fit* right, that they are both in turbulent times emotionally and this relationship is not giving them the peace they thought it would. They are paper airplanes, because they know that it’s not the right call for where they are in their own journeys if they want to heal properly and that neither will get what they truly want from the other one. The monsters who turned out to be trees, they are in the woods in this relationship, they were built to fall apart.. are all images that speak of the dynamic we could see of them, they try it doesn’t work and then after, when they are in better places mentally they will look back and be like “we dodge a bullet there didn’t we”.

Bonus: His necklace hanging around her neck, the image is clear there and so is the commentary. 

Az + Mor: formerly known as Moriel, the ship that used to reign my heart

Breath - This song is entirely from Az’s perspective once he and Mor talk about, well, everything. This is not how he had planned it, this is not how he wanted this to go, but “people are people and sometimes it doesn’t work out, but it’s killing me to see you go after all this time” referencing letting go of the romantic feelings he had for her. They were a crutch for him and now he has to face life and the things that torment him about it, without the protection and comfort his crush on her offered him. “And we know it's never simple, Never easy Never a clean break, no one here to save me You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand,” regardless of what you all want to think, they do love and know each other but shift in their dynamic will mean an adjustment for both of them... it’s not a clean break. “Never wanted this, never wanna see you hurt Every little bump in the road I tried to swerve”, also Idc about what you all think, Az never never never wanted to hurt Mor, if he knew his behavior was in someway affecting her he would have done something, and I think from the aftermath of him going after Eris on ACOWAR we can see that... also this might allude to him actually knowing that Mor is a lesbian and he has tried to make sure she feels safe around him and knows that he has her back agains the whole world if need be, regardless of her lack of romantic feelings for him. 

Feyl*n: honestly who knew there would be so many songs that would fit these two. Such bops for a crappy dude like T*mlin.

Exile - “I never learned to read your mind (never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (you never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)” He never even tried to learn to read her mind, he never turned things around and she gave so so many signs. The way he looks at Rhys like he’s his understudy, but no sugar he’s the principal actor and you got fired.

Getaway car - and I oop. Because that is essentially what they were both to each other. Feyre needed someone to give her security and financial stability, T*mlin needed someone to break the curse: “It was the best of times the worst of crimes”.

Bad blood - LOOOOOL. They used to be mad love and now they have bad blood.

Tell me why -  Imma just leave a collection of quotes here that well allude to them through the first act of ACOMAF: “I took a chance, I took a shot And you might think I'm bulletproof but I'm not You took a swing, I took it hard And down here from the ground, I see who you are” Feyre seeing T*mlin for the abusive person that he is, from the ground.. where his behavior put her. Also “I'm sick and tired of your reasons I got no one to believe in You tell me that you want me, then push me around And I need you like a heartbeat But you know you got a mean streak Makes me run for cover when you're around Here's to you and your temper Yes, I remember what you said last night And I know that you see what you're doing to me Tell me why” The if he loved me, why did he do it and the “it’s not a question of if he loved you but how” conversation she has with Rhys.

I could go on and on forever placing all T-Swift songs around acotar characters, but I think this is getting longer than we all anticipated.. or did we? we all know I am not ✨concise✨. Anywho, thanks for sticking around.

Besos!!

BOOOONUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSS:

Obviously, Invisible String is for all my mated/soon to be mated boos, and I think Peace is a song that can apply to both Feysand and Nessian from Rhys’ and Nesta’s perspectives respectively. 

[the-ravening]

1, 2, 15 & 28? 😍

1. favorite fanfiction trope?

It’s a common and often silly one, but I will always love “there’s only one bed” or any form of platonic bed sharing that results in unintentional snuggling, preferably involving erections and more. I always love that moment when the character first begins to wake and they’re in that liminal space without true thought or inhibition, operating on pure instinct and pleasure, and it’s all warm bodies and grinding. I love the unwitting and inadvertent nature of two characters stumbling into a sexual encounter like this, and depending on the characters it can play out in so many different fun ways in terms of mood and tone and reaction. I guess I just like having a lot of cakes and sometimes eating the same ones over and over in every fandom.

2. what is your favorite ship dynamic? do you have a type?

I’m really into enemies-to-lovers, or just enemies-with-benefits, because the inherent tension between antagonistic characters translates so well into sexual chemistry. I tend to like getting-together fics rather than established relationship ones because that’s where all the build up and suspense is. I love the journey of two people who hate each other’s guts discovering that they actually can’t get enough of each other in certain ways, that the passion of hatred channels well into feverish lust, and then maybe sometimes once they’ve bridged that gap they find they can even tolerate each other, maybe even need each other. Maybe they’re actually the same, though they’d be loathe to admit it. I just want poor communication, lots of insulting each other, and aggressive fucking between idiots who don’t realize they have more in common than they think.

15. what rarepair you think has a lot of potential

I think we’ve already discussed some of my rarepair wishes in depth over the months, so sorry to rehash what you’ve already heard from me, but how are there only 30 Tony/Nebula fics on AO3?? They were trapped alone in space together thinking they were gonna die! Tony is a recovered fuck boi who thinks he’s never gonna see his wife again and there’s a hot, prickly, touch-starved Nebula right there. So much sexy angst potential! And then after they get back to earth, Tony gets to experience the guilt of cheating on Pepper and Nebula gets the jealousy and abandonment issues. It is ripe for fic, how is there not more of it?

My runner up’s gotta be Tony/Killmonger (only 16 fics after that incredibly shippy episode of What If??), Wanda/Fake!Pietro (only 21 fics), and then all my other rarepair dreams are just incest 😅

28. are there popular ships that you cannot get into?

So many! Basically any ship that’s canon is immediately not interesting to me. I crave that which canon will always be too cowardly to give us. In terms of the most popular ships in the parts of MCU fandom I inhabit, probably SamBucky and Stony. I don’t know why, since those pairings have the makings of what I like (antagonism, lots of being dicks to each other), but something about them just doesn’t sing to me. I’d rather ship each of those characters with pretty much anyone else.

Thank you for the ask (and asking some difficult questions)! 💗

[bigkyloenergy]

𝙃𝙊𝙉𝙀𝙔𝙀𝘿 𝙑𝙀𝙉𝙊𝙈

a witcher!kylo x reader fic. dark themes, smut ahead, my first fic so please leave me alone. 

summary: you are a barmaid / stablewoman at an inn in toussaint, kylo ren, one of the last of the witchers from the school of the viper regularly stays at the establishment. you wonder what keeps him coming back. 

read on ao3.

For some reason, you found yourself waiting for him. 

You’d noticed a routine in his travels, the Viper routinely found rest at the inn you worked at every 3 weeks. Nearly on the dot, which was odd to you. Most of the stories you’d heard of witchers told of contracts in kingdoms you didn’t even know how to pronounce, and The Phesantry wasn’t the most comfy place in Beaumont. Maybe it was because it was close to the palace, maybe he had someone there. You wondered so many things about a man whose eyes were the only thing you’d ever seen of his face. Deep yellow, piercing as the blades he kept, ones to match his title. 

The wind warned of a storm as you kneeled at the stables, changing the water that one of the helper boys promised he did. Of course you couldn’t count on them, no one in the damned inn seemed to know any responsibility beyond serving ale. 

  “Room for one more?” You nearly dropped the rag onto your shoes, not that they weren’t dirty enough. There the Viper stood, holding the reigns of his steed that was as dark as the cloaks he wore, one of the most beautiful you’d ever laid your eyes on. 

  “For Luxe? Always, she’s the sweetest girl I ever took care of,” first, your eyes went to the mask he donned — one that you swore was carved intricately by a blacksmith, but you’d never gotten close enough to be sure. He didn’t answer you, leading her into the remaining stall you’d just cleaned. His head nearly hit the top of it, and you had to stifle a grin as you looked back to the bucket. Speak, figure out something to say. Anything to say. Keep him out here with you.

  “The storm bring you this way?” 

Turning to you, he ducked under the archway this time, a raven lock escaping his hood in the process. You forgot how your lungs worked for a moment. 

  “No. Monster’s nest nearby causing trouble.” 

You stood now, still feeling dwarfed in his presence, having to tilt your chin slightly in order to meet his awaiting gaze. Nodding, as if it was a normal day in the neighborhood. “Lucky me then,” shit, you did not just say that, shifting on your boots, you cleared your throat, “more business.” 

It wasn’t just how big he was, that you had gotten past — or at least, that’s what you told yourself. Men, normal men, weren’t nearly as tall as your mutant guest, they all still barely met his shoulders in comparison. But the energy, the way the air got thick made you feel aware of each nerve under touch starved skin.

  “Business? Ah, for my coin, hm? Not the gwent players I’ve brought you?” You grinned this time, genuinely, circling him only to meet the horse with the cloth you’d been wringing out. Slowly you brushed the journey’s dirt from her eyes, it being much easier to speak with the witcher when you weren’t making eye contact. 

  “You may as well be some use to me, haven’t you noticed that you have a room now specifically made for you? Do you know why that is, Mr. Viper?” You waited for his response, turning back to him when you didn’t receive one only to find a curious, orange eyed man doing the same, so you continued, “Imprints on the mattress, only a man at a stocking six foot giant can be comfortable in that bed. And do you know how many of those I get here?” 

His eye twitched.

  “One. Who doesn’t come nearly enough to have a special bed of his own.” He stepped closer, one step, but enough to feel like your vision had suddenly been suffocated by nothing but him.

  “And what would I have to do to earn my place?” Fuck. What? Why did his voice sound so damn enticing. You swallowed the saliva collecting in your mouth, trying to grasp a response. A gloved hand reached up, leather skating over your lower lip, edging you further.

  “Uh — I’m sure I can find... some work... something,” as your mouth parted with your words, he forced his thumb in, and you gladly took it. Your tongue curled as he pressed down, heat siphoning between your legs while he watched you. Awaiting. A serpent with his prey. 

  “I’m sure you can,” You wanted him to touch you more, so badly. and if you knew more about his kind you’d know that he could hear every single pump of your heart — note every restriction of breath, “I think we’ve figured it out, haven’t we?” 

You sucked in a lungful, the brisk air not the only thing to blame for the gooseflesh that riddled your body. Nodding, this time not being hesitant in your determination to study his eyes — ones carved with violence, promises of death. He collected your skirts in one hand, enough have your legs completely exposed. “Dirty thing. You want this, don’t you? You want me to touch you out here, make you cum in these stables? 

Nodding so fast you could of kinked your neck, your supple thighs parted in invitation. Which wasn’t enough for him. 

  “Say it.” 

God damn it. This had to be something out of your dreams. A fantasy you conjured submerged in slumber.  

  “Yes,” you purred, heavy eyelids fluttering shut, his thumb still hindering your speech, “I want you to touch me, right now, please.” 

  “Good girl.” 

Within a literal blink of an eye, your bodice was torn directly from your chest. Greedy hands found your breasts, leaving your mouth empty and gasping while the harsh leather rolled your nipple between the pads of his digits, earning a soft moan. This only seemed to enable the Viper, hitching one of your legs onto his waist, forcing you onto your toes while your back hit the angled wood that made up the horse-keep. Even in the dark, his hues shone like the sun itself, refusing to break under the moon’s pressure. 

Curling into his body, your ankle made like an anchor at the back of his solid thigh, wishing you weren’t wearing shoes so that you may be able to wiggle your toes and feel his length. He gave too much restriction to allow you to push yourself against him, leaving you aching to know if he was hard under the light armor he dressed in. 

A finger dipped into your underwear, peeling them from your cunt, hearing a hiss from under his mask when he finally met the saturated folds under them. Swallowing thick, you didn’t even bother to attempt to look behind him — let the boats on the dock have a show, not that they could see anything but your leg past his broad frame. You never thought leather could feel so good, the seam of it meeting your clit in the most delicious way. 

  “Fuck. You’re so wet. Filthy whore, have you just been waiting for someone to come lift your skirts back here?” His chest pushed you harder against the pillar, your jaw slack with carnal pleasure while he began to circle, tight motions, listening to your body through it. His other palm was secured against your hip, keeping you where he wanted you, now noticing that this was just leaving a better view for him. Your thigh hit the hilt of the dagger at his side when you writhed, hissing through your teeth at the contrast from the warmth radiating from your body. 

  “Hm.” Your eyes jerked opened the moment he stopped, then his fingers were plunging into you — sending speckles into your hindered vision. His thumb kept within the territory of absolute euphoria, finding a rhythm with the tiny bundle of nerves that had you babbling nonsense, please and yesyesyes wondering how someone could even feel this good. By just using their hand.

The one that kept you still promised bruises into your soft curves, the strand of hair you cherished earlier being met with more as he craned over you, discovering a braid in the mix of tendrils that somehow turned you on further. 

  “I’m close,” you warned the moment he curled his fingers into you, sweat beading on your bare chest, eye contact much easier when the Viper was lulling you over the edge of an orgasm. Again, your nipple was being stretched, pulled, twisted as an act of further drowning you in this primal delight, this personal gratification right outside of the place you worked. 

And it worked, you were plucked at the center, coming completely undone under the stranger’s will. “Fuck, so tight, slut.” He shoved another finger into you for good measure as your ribbed walls clenched around him, a frenzy of motions from your climax descending you into another reality, your moans enough to alert the guests inside of exactly what was being done to you. 

Removing himself, you watched him under thick lashes while he mapped out your body, as if he needed one last image for memory before he continued on with his business. But not before his fingers were returning to your mouth, forcing you to taste what he’d just conjured from you, and you sucked every bit off of the rough material as a reward. 

  “Kylo.” He finally spoke, taking a step to free you from your position against the stables.

  “What?” You hadn’t even had time to collect yourself, the skirts falling back over your legs as you attempted to close your bodice in a way that was modest enough to get back to your room. 

  “My name,” the Viper explained, “I want to hear it next time I make you cum.” 

And with that, he was off, leaving you with a muddled mind and swollen cunt.