#but he knows full well nothing was ever between them to mend | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tugoslovenka · 8 months

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Flowers & Honey

I have returned to tumblr after about 8-9 years. I have no idea what's going on, but I do know that Halsin is a man that needs more smut written about him.

Here's my attempt.

I also post on ao3, if you would be so kind to visit!

She could not tear her eyes away. Not since their encounter in the grimy, neglected dungeons of the Temple of Selûne that is.

When they reached the cage, her Potion of Animal Speaking had worn off, which is also when she found herself face-to-face with a ferocious brown bear that had almost singlehandedly dispatched a group of goblins on watch duty.

Edith had certainly not anticipated that the beast would transform into a tall, muscular, and, well, rather handsome elf after the battle had ended. He introduced himself as Halsin, the First Druid of the Emerald Grove — and was certainly the largest elf she had ever laid her eyes on.

From that moment in the goblin camp to her current absentminded lip chewing while sat on a rickety stool in a long-forgotten inn in the depths of the Shadowlands, Edith was fairly certain she had spent a significant portion of the past few days unabashedly staring at the man's backside.

He had been polite even after she helped him solve a dispute between the Tieflings and the Druids in the Grove. Even after he had spotted some of her other companions rushing into the woods with partners of their choosing. Even after she mustered the courage to subtly invite him as well.

Too polite for her liking.

Edith's temper ran hot most days, but there was something about his gentle demeanor, his knack for resolving conflicts, his ability to discern people's intentions, and his overall kind-hearted nature that ignited a fiery passion within her, turning that spark into a full-blown wildfire.

That rang especially true after an incredibly difficult encounter with the cursed creatures and Shadows a little ways away from Last Night Inn - where she was almost certain she was going to lose him were it not for some of Shadowheart’s clerical abilities.

A few days had passed since then, and Halsin was reunited with Thaniel’s complete self. Edith still couldn't decipher some of his riddles or understand how this young boy would aid them in their battle against Thorm. She did however know not to ask too many questions on this journey, since it had gone well beyond strange.

Halsin had his back turned to her, focused on mending the broken wooden floor of the inn. They were alone in the room, bathed in the soft glow of a lantern in the corner where she perched. True to form, he declined her offer to help, since, as he noted, she had already done a world of favors to him and the others.

“Do you always study people, Edith?”

Edith’s concentration was broken momentarily when he spoke. She felt her breath hitch in her throat. Could he be hearing her thoughts? There were a couple of Potions of Mind Reading left around the place and she sincerely hoped he didn’t drink one in the past hour.

She cleared her throat and gently let herself stand on two feet. “What do you mean?”She could hear a soft chuckle come from him. “You have been observing my movements for quite some time now.” Halsin said. She tried to ascertain if he was annoyed or offended by the notion, but she couldn’t sense any irritation in his voice.

She supposed this was as good as time as any.

With a quiet prayer to all the Gods, Devils and Demons in the Forgotten Realms, she crossed her arms. “And what of it?” she challenged, a smirk forming on her lips.

Halsin turned to her in that instant, still kneeling on the floor. Even at this height, his head could probably reach the tops of her chest.

“I may be a few centuries your elder, but I am not ignorant of people’s advances. You certainly do not hide your desire for me.” he spoke in a low tone, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

Edith involuntarily laughed at his comment. “Well, you’ve also made it quite clear that you want nothing to do with my advances, which is why, I study from afar.” she retorted in response.

“I have never denied your advances, sweet Baldurian. The only time you have sought my companionship was in a very intoxicated state, and I did not wish for you to have any regrets going forward.” he explained, rising to his feet in the process.

His tall frame overshadowed hers. She was not the smallest human, but she was also acutely aware of the size difference between them. Her head barely reached his ribcage. She reckoned she could fit two of her frames into one of his.

“Maybe I needed some liquid courage to get me going.” she murmured, trying her best to remain in control while she felt a pool of heat form in her belly.

“Aye, but I would have preferred you in a sobered state, where we can explore each other to our heart’s content.”

Edith felt as though time had stopped upon hearing that. She reached behind her back to pinch at her skin, making sure she hasn’t been put to sleep. Before she could respond though, Halsin slowly made his way to her until she could feel his breath graze her face.

They had never been that close before. Not even during her embarrassing attempt at trying to seduce him had she smelled his scent. Wood, with a hint of sweat and a plant she could not recognize. She saw a small bead of sweat run down his forehead until it reached his cheek.

Halsin's hand extended, hovering just before her face. "Have I misunderstood your intentions, little flower?" he inquired, tilting his head slightly.

Little flower. It was a nickname he had given her on account of her flower picking. Having been born and raised in the Lower City of Baldur’s Gate, lush gardens and vibrant plants were not a sight she was familiar with, hence her need to collect some for her notebooks along the way.

"No," she replied, though she couldn't help but feel a pang of uncertainty as her senses overcame her. "I... We're not— There are people around."

Halsin smiled in response. His outstretched hand lowered until he held hers, which felt small and delicate in comparison. His gaze moved upwards to the ceiling, where Edith knew there was a private bath for the inn's residents to wash away the day's grime.

Without saying any other word, he began making his way through the hallways, keeping her close by while Edith tried to process what was happening. This man was good at hiding his intentions and feelings, and she was good at, well, not, but even she couldn’t help but be taken by his grace and intimidating presence.

Usually, being the loudmouth that she was, she would have opted to respond with a sly comment or attempt a few witty comebacks. However, not a word escaped her lips as her legs seemed to move on their own, following Halsin up to the second floor of the tavern, where a few Harpers were on patrol.

By the time Edith had thought of a response to give him, they were both already in the small, makeshift storage room that had one wooden bath in the center of it. The only light was the translucent glow from Isobel’s protective spell, which also illuminated Halsin’s large body as he began taking his garments off.

Edith stood there, suddenly feeling insecure as she wrapped her hands around herself. Halsin didn’t pay her any attention for the time being, ensuring to pour an adequate amount of water into the bath and tempering a metal basin with the Heat Metal spell as he mixed both thoroughly.

Once he was satisfied with the temperature, he turned his body towards hers. Her eyes immediately fixated themselves on his lower half, widening slightly once she saw his member. He was quite well-endowed, even when not standing at full attention.

Seemingly taking note of her nervousness, Halsin outstretched his hand, smiling warmly as he did so. “I realize those who do not spend their time in the wilderness are not as comfortable being in the nude, but you should not be afraid of your own body, little flower. The contours of your form are a tapestry of nature’s wonders - a mosaic of petals and blooms, an ode to the beauty of this world.”

Gods damn this man and his mouth.

Edith nodded, only being able to muster an “okay” in response. Or maybe an incoherent mumble. She wasn’t entirely too sure.

Halsin raised her hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss there before stepping into the bath. He stood waiting, a small smile playing on his lips once he saw Edith begin to step out of her garments, and then her smallclothes. She lightly grasped his hand as she carefully got into the tub.

The water was not too cold nor too hot, just perfect enough to calm the goosebumps on her skin as she lowered herself. Halsin had some difficulty in managing the manouver, scooting a few times until he finally found the right position. His knees were poking out of the water and on either side of Edith’s arms.

It was honestly a shock they had both managed to fit and not break or overflow the whole bath.

Halsin reached for some soap with one hand, while the other took hold of her hair. “Tell me, little flower.” he began massaging her scalp, making sure to dip the bar into the water before squeezing some of the soapy water onto her curls. “What is it you require of me?”

“Mmm,” Edith murmured as she slumped back onto Halsin’s chest. “Where do I start?”

Halsin leaned in until his lips found the crook of her neck. “Your efforts in helping my cause have gone above and beyond what I had expected. It is only right of me to return the favor in whatever manner you see fit.”

Edith responded with a hum. In truth, she did not anticipate any of this tonight, although she had experienced countless nights fantasizing about something similar. It always began with his fingers. Something about them, meaty and large, roaming their way across her body made her insides tingle.

She heard the sound of something small falling into the water. A beat later, his other arm wrapped itself around her belly.

So much for the bath, she thought.

“In truth, I too have desired you for quite some time now.” Halsin confessed, gently arranging a row of kisses from the crook of her neck to her shoulder blade, stopping momentarily before moving her hair so that he could reach the other side. “I was just hoping, and maybe praying to the Oakfather, that you would make an advance soon.”

“Have you, now?” Edith giggled, closing her eyes so that she could fully appreciate his affection. A moment later, the hand on her stomach reached up until she felt her nipple being tweaked, grazed over and gently pulled.

“That sound,” Halsin growled, moving his head forward until she could see his gaze from the corner of her eyes. “Do not make it unless you wish for me to lose control.”

“Halsin, that is precisely what I was hoping would happen for the past few—”

Edith gasped when she felt his fingers quickly retract from her nipples and nestle themselves between her legs. He traced the lines of her lips teasingly, and it wasn’t long before he stopped his middle finger on her clit, gently rubbing it.

It enticed a surprised moan from Edith. “Halsin…”

“How I have longed to hear you sing for me, little flower.” he confessed, keeping a slow and steady rhythm on her clit while she continued to whimper. Edith was certain everyone in the tavern could hear her noises, but she chose not to engage her current mind with future worries.

Her hips began to unconsciously grind against his fingers as she attempted to help guide him to more of her needs. “I don’t think you realize how much I have— how much I’ve— needed this. It’s not going to take much— much to make me come.” Edith moaned, turning her head so that it was resting between his neck and shoulder blade.

His looked at her. “Your eyes, my heart. They are glazed like the morning mists.” he said huskily before leaning to kiss her deeply. It was one way to swallow out her moans, because her tongue soon reached out to capture his.

The ministrations didn’t take long to get her close to the edge. What wasn’t exactly helpful was his pace, steady and slow, torturously so, but with enough pressure that she felt her hips buckle at the finger that stroked her clit. Halsin seemed to notice and switched his middle finger with this thumb, while his hand moved lower to reach her opening.

The pleasure she thought was experiencing only heightened when she felt not one but two fingers enter her gently. Edith had spent a decent amount of time getting herself off in a similar fashion, but nothing could compare to his thick digits pumping inside her — curling to the hilt as she cried out in surprise.

“You are so sensitive, little flower.” he mused, increasing the pace of his fingers while doing so. “Like a primrose, or maybe even a poppy. Do you think I could fit another finger in?”

Edith panted in response, feeling completely distracted at his words and movements. All she could focus on for the time being was the toe-curling pleasure he gave her. “Yes. Yes, please, Halsin. I need… I need—“

Halsin watched her closely, giving her temple a kiss as he moved a third finger between her legs. “You’re doing well. I can smell your release coming.”

She couldn’t stop the whine that escaped her lips once three fingers well well and truly nestled between her legs. It was almost painful, had it not been for her muscles being stimulated for some time. Her chore ached angrily and his words only helped spur on the pleasure.

Halsin groaned when he felt her squeeze his fingers, his lips moving to nip at her neck hungrily. “I need your release. Give yourself to me.”

She did not need to be told any more encouragement to let go. She felt his free hand grip onto her hips to push them down, since between her grinding and squirming, it must have seemed like she was going to escape the bath altogether. With a cry of pleasure, she felt herself shudder as one strong pulse of pleasure followed the next, a well and true release overcoming her body.

Halsin was patiently waiting for her to finish. One final ripple jolted her hips momentarily before she fully relaxed, almost sinking into the water in the process. It was only him submerging himself lower that helped feather her fall as she breathed heavily from the come down.

“Your body seems to respond well to my touch.” he grinned, reaching a hand to her hair so as to gently run his fingers through it. She was still panting heavily, her arms barely being able to find the sides of the tub to pull herself up. It exposed much of her lower back, where a lot of her scars were.

“You carry many marks for someone so fragile, little Baldurian.” he mused, clearly studying her back. Edith let out a huff in response, turning around to face him. The tub was not nearly big enough to hold both of them comfortably, which is why she settled herself on his thick thighs instead.

“And you carry quite the mouth for someone so ancient.” her hands found themselves wrapped around his neck as she closed the distance between them, ultimately sitting on his member with a swift glide. She hadn’t noticed it before, being preoccupied with his touch, but it was somehow larger and thicker than she had anticipated.

“I never quite realized how burdened I was, until I met you. The threat of the shadow curse, the politics of the Grove.” Halsin let his gaze drop for a moment, looking out into the distance, somewhere far away. “I was forgetting who I was, but you lifted the fog. Thank you.”

Edith was taken aback at the sudden change of mood. She hadn’t quite anticipated his sincerity in this state, although still deeply appreciated his nurturing nature despite what had just occurred.

“You’re welcome.” was all she could muster.

She could hear him chuckle. “You’re too modest. I wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you are. But I do.”

Edith responded by leaning in to kiss him. She had barely remembered the first time they did it, the intensity of their coupling making her forget her manners and not even allow him more than a tongue battle before he was three fingers deep inside of her.

His lips were surprisingly soft. For someone whose voice, hands and general posture were as rough as stone, the velvet on his lips was a stark contrast. She hadn’t noticed it before, but took her time in exploring his mouth. Halsin was a good kisser, letting her take the lead while his hands stayed firmly on her waist.

Her hands grabbed at his hair, now party wet from the ears down, as she gently pulled. All she longed for was to get as close as possible. This exact fantasy she had mused about many nights before, and she was determined to remember every detail of this encounter now that the initial shock had worn off.

She noted the hardness between her legs, semi-floating and partly stuck in place by her own body. Her legs were being tickled by the hair on his thighs, and she noted his muscles squeezing with every other beat. His chest was firm, as if it was made from chizeled rock, and her nipples occasionally grazed over his in the heat of the kiss. His hands were firm, holding onto her sides while she ever so slightly ground her bottom half against his.

He was trying to gain control of something. She sensed it in the kiss, too. The way his tongue suddenly fought hers, teeth occasionally knocking hers, a bite or two coming down on her lower lip.

“Halsin, are you alright?”

His eyes snapped open. The familiar chestnut brown was replaced by a yellow glow, an almost empty stare into her own. His breathing was heavier, more ragged. He was trying to focus.

“I apologize, I am— I believe nature calls to me in more ways than I had anticipated.” he said, blinking a few times before she saw the gold from his eyes transform back into a dark brown. “I am but a bear, in way.”

Edith smiled. “All this time and you’re still battling your Wildshape?”

“I have lived… a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now.” he said. “And you, little flower, are not helping my affliction in the slightest.”

“Affliction?” Edith retorted, crossing her arms in return. “Am I the cause of your suffering, now?”

Halsin’s grip on her waist loosened. “Forgive me, I did not mean to cause offense. I simply mean a different kind of suffering, one that—“

Edith interrupted his rambles with another kiss. She bit her lip once pulled away. “I know, old man.” she giggled in response.

That fierce grip took her by the hips this time, slamming her body down on top of his member. Halsin growled in response, and she could see those glowing eyes return. “I asked you not to make that sound.” he reminded her, his teeth finding their mark on the side of her neck.

“I’m sorry.” she gasped, half-joking as she felt his mouth start to suck at the very spot between her ear and throat. “I didn’t realize my laugh would poke the bear that easily.”

One of his hands left her hips and she soon felt it begin circling her clit instead. Edith’s hand quickly grabbed a hold of Halsin’s head, pushing him deeper into her skin at the unanticipated touch. “Fuck, Halsin.”

“This bear pokes many areas.” Halsin murmured in her skin, moving his head down until he reached her breasts. Taking one into his mouth, he suckled at the nipple until she hissed at the sudden pain of his sharp teeth. His lips moved away with a popping sound as he leaned his forehead against hers. “So I ask you again, to not invite it. Not unless you desire it in full, that is.”

Edith pondered for a moment. What would that feel like? Being taken by a beast, with no regard for any customs or strange looks? Would it feel strange or would it give her a pleasure she had never felt before? Would she be interested in exploring more of his Wildshape, maybe have a taste of different—

She must have been quiet for long, because Halsin’s praise broke the silence in the room. “My heart, my little flower,” he repeated the words over and over as his lips found their way on her breasts, her neck, her lips, anywhere that wasn’t occupied by his hands.

Desire overtook her. His words, his touch, his lips, all making her core heat up again. His member had to have been hurting by now, since she had barely paid any attention to it. If only she could find some control again and not behave like some wanton, mindless harlot.

“Halsin, I need you to fuck me.” she said breathlessly.

“Yes, my heart. As you wish.” he signed wistfully, staring down at her lips with hunger. It didn’t take long for his large hands to start digging into her soft flesh, positioning her so that she was placed along the length of his cock.

Edith reached down to touch it for the first time. The sound that Halsin let out was more rewarding than any loot at the end of a long day. It was as melodic as a harmony of birds, as sweet as the tarts in the inn — especially when his head rolled back in the process.

Her hand gently began dragging his foreskin down, making sure to keep a watchful eye of his face. She noted his sharp intake of breath and hissing when she touched the tip, which she made a mental note of to occasionally do. Her other hand had reached between her legs to keep herself occupied, since the sight alone was not enough to give her release.

Halsin seemed to notice the movements and raised his head to look at her. “I want to see you.” he demanded.

In a moment’s notice, he had her bum between his hands and raised to his feet. In another, she felt the wooden floor of the tavern as she was dropped on the boards with Halsin on top of her. Both of them were covered in water and leftover soap, panting as they looked each other in the eyes.

“Touch yourself, little flower.” he commanded, resting his body weight on one elbow while his free hand moved between his legs to grab a hold of his member.

Edith didn’t need to be told twice before her hand moved on her clit. With an index and middle finger, she began circling them around the sensitive skin while her gaze fixated on Halsin’s movements. He was doing his best to match her, although she could tell he was nearing his release.

She did not want his spend on the floorboards. She wanted it inside her.

“Halsin,” she whimpered needily. “Please fuck me.”

“I must rest, for I will not be able to contain myself.” he responded quickly, his hand massaging his cock and his eyes not leaving her own while he did so. “I will not leave your request unattended, I gave you my word.”

Edith could only moan in response. She could see the thick vein on the side of his cock, smell the musk coming from his body as her rhythmically stroked himself, almost taste the pre-come that was dripping ever so slightly from his head.

That was when she felt herself release again. Her hand paused its movement while an earth-shattering orgasm overtook her body. She bit her lip, close to bleeding, to stop herself from screaming out in pleasure. All the while, Halsin was fixated on her. His hand was no longer rubbing in a pattern, but almost forcefully pulling at his skin.

And then he stopped.

It took all the willpower he must have had to not drop his entire body on her. Rather, both elbows hit the side of her face as he almost howled in frustration. In a few short breaths, he turned his head so that it was facing hers. “I… I believe the urge has abandoned me, for now.”

Edith’s hand moved from her cunt to his lips, where she gently parted them so that he could taste her. “Not for long, I hope.” she replied, moving her other hand in his hair to stroke it.

Halsin sucked on her fingers like a needy babe. He moaned while doing so, letting his tongue go over each digit carefully. “As sweet as you smell, my nectar-filled lily,” he hummed.

Edith made a sound of disapproval in response. “I prefer lavender, actually.”

“I will roam the Feywild until the end of my days to bring you the last lavenders in this existence and beyond just to relive this very moment again.” he said once he finished working on her fingers, leaning his head down to give her a passionate kiss.

“Well, I hope that’s not it, Archdruid.” she stifled a giggle, knowing it was apparently what set him off in the first place.

As if on command, his lips moved down her body until he reached her lower belly. She couldn’t tell if it was his eagerness of the velvet in his voice, but she could’ve sworn she felt a gush between her legs. It was too simple for him to get her body going, as if it betrayed her entirely.

Edith gasped once she felt the first swipe of his tongue against her lips. She didn’t bother contemplating why he was so good at it, seeing as he had three centuries to practice. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, lapping hungrily like an animal starved, with growls leaving his throat as he did so.

“I once told you I’ve something of a sweet tooth and that honey was my favorite taste.” he said in between licks. “I was wrong. You are my favorite going forward.”

She whimpered and moaned, arching her hips towards him in need. One of his hands moved up until it reached her breasts, flicking one nipple back and forth. His tongue was circling her clit, then pressing against her lips, before adventuring across her entire cunt, so delicately, as if he hadn’t drunk in months.

Looking down, Edith saw his face. It was covered in her. It didn’t take much before she was sparkling with need. Her heels dug into his shoulders and she, once again, came with a loud, and very long moan. She felt her legs starting to shake, but he did not stop. He devoured her entirely, until her clit could no longer take the sensitivity. Her hand reached out to push on his forehead until he looked back at her, her juices dripping from his chin.

“I do believe I may just pass out if you continue this.” she uttered, just barely being able to catch her breath. He climbed atop her body, placing both palms against her head before giving her a soft kiss.

The unconscious grind against her folds was enough to tell her that he was ready to proceed. There were a few words he muttered, not loud enough for her to hear, but she was certain it was a prayer to Silvanus, one of protection or wisdom.

“May I?” he asked, smoothing the sweaty hair out of her face.

Edith bit her lip and nodded in response, spreading her legs in the process. Halsin settled his weight between her legs, and soon enough, grabbed a hold of his hard member. She gasped for air when she felt the tip of his cock press against her.

It had been quite a while since she was with anyone so… blessed. She would even wager he was the largest she had ever been with. It made her nervous, which he seemed to pick up on.

“My heart, if there is anything that will make you uncomfortable, you will let me know of it?” he whispered, kissing her deeply while sliding his head up and down her core. Edith nodded once again, opening her eyes to give him a silent approval.

She immediately let out a loud mewl when he pushed in, the initial stretch being so intense since she did not anticipate it. Her hands immediately grabbed a hold of his shoulders, squeezing down while he stood in place, being careful not to push too hard.

“Well, I can safely say I did not expect you to be big everywhere.” she joked while gasping, allowing herself to accommodate his size.

He watched for her reactions cautiously, making sure to only push further when she felt comfortable enough to say so. By the look on his face, she could tell that Halsin was holding back. The veins protruding from his arms, the shaking muscles on his thighs, the concentration on his face — all too careful.

The sensations overwhelmed her the more he moved. At some point, she wondered if he would ever stop coming. Thanks to his previous work however, she was still so incredibly slick that it was only mild resistance that he was met with. Her heels continued to dig into his back, partly from the pressure and the incoming pleasure.

She had often wondered what people meant when they craved the feeling of being full. Edith thought she finally understood. Each part of her seemed to be completed with his throbbing member, his girth stretching her to impossibility while her cunt attempted to swallow him entirely.

Halsin pressed hungry kisses on her lips, then her neck, before finally stoping at her breasts. “My heart, may I please move?” he sighed in desperation, hanging his head low while every bit of him seemed to vibrate.

“Please.”

He did not need to be told twice.

He began to slowly pull out, which made Edith wince. Then whimper. Then moan. Then groan. As slowly as he was inside, it felt as though he was twice as fast in pulling out. A feeling of emptiness overwhelmed her, and she could feel her own juices dripping down her thighs as he did so.

“Eager, are we?” Halsin cooed, stopping just his head was pressed against her entrance.

“Shut up and fuck me, bear.” Edith finally snapped, looking up at him with fire in her eyes.

“As the lady requires.”

His pace picked up then. Not enough to give her discomfort, but enough where he was no longer trying to be cautious in his movements. The loud groans that followed reverberated through his chest, and Edith could swear she could hear a bear growl in the midst of it.

She on the other hand, couldn’t explain how she was feeling. It was as if he was hitting new spots the more times he thrust inside, helping her feel fuller the more he did it. The gentleness of his words and touch was gone, now replaced by what seemed to be a rutting animal with only a need to release.

The feeling was mutual, in all honesty.

The Druid slid one arm underneath her head while another grabbed a hold of her thigh, raising it so that he had access to her deepest parts. His cock jabbed at her insides, and Edith swore she was seeing stars. No longer was she able to look at his face, since he was buried deep in her neck. The one thing she could focus on was the wooden ceiling of the Last Night Inn.

“Oakfathe— Father— Do not let— Preserve—“

She could feel him grow, feel more hair that was now turning into fur. For just a moment, she could see his hand turn bigger, his nails growing into that of a large animal - before he slammed his hand down onto the floor and almost breaking it.

He growled like a beast, letting out a sound that she had never heard before. “You are pooling for me, my heart.” his voice was a mixture of his own and a deep, low monstrous tone she had never heard before. “So delicate.”

Edith could only lay and observe him. Her clit was raw, her insides felt like they were being rearranged and she could only crave more. “Release inside me. I wish to be coated in your seed.”

Halsin slammed his fist on the same board again, this time cracking some parts of the wood in the process. The words seemed to spur him on and he picked up his pace, the hand under her head gripping her so tight that she felt it would pop if he pressed hard enough.

“Fuck, fuck, Halsin please,” she mewed, barely being in control of her own body as his cock assaulted her entrance over and over, the feeling turning from discomfort to pleasure to pain and comfort all in one. There was no way anyone wouldn’t hear of this, and at this point, Edith did not care.

Edith didn’t last much longer. She was crying out in pleasure, tightly coiled around the giant elf as her inner muscles clenched and released. It was the tightening of her core that lasted him two full thrusts before he released.

Trickling warmth covered her insides. It turned into a heat she did not anticipate. What surprised her though, was that it just kept coming. Halsin halted his movements entirely, and the only thing she could feel was the twitching of his cock as he kept coming inside. Thick ropes of cum, all coating her entirely. She swore she could feel some of it seep out of her entrance too.

Once he was fully spent, Halsin raised his head to look at her. The scar on his lip had some blood pooling, presumably from the bite he had self-inflicted during his rutting. There was sweat pooling down his face, his long hair stuck to the sides of it as he panted. She could feel his heartbeat on top of hers.

“What an… interesting turn of events.” Edith said breathlessly, reaching up to cup his face with her hands.

Halsin turned his head to give her palm a kiss before groaning in what seemed to be agony. Edith furrowed her brows in confusion as she followed his gaze which ended next to her head.

Another floorboard had cracked.

#halsin #baldur's gate 3 #halsin x tav #halsin x original female character #fanfiction #halsin deserves a lot more #my fics #the bear

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sophie1973 · 25 days

Text

I choose you and me (religiously)

Got struck with this idea at five in the morning the other day after a terrible migraine.

Five Sunday mornings in the lives of Henry and Alex.

Read it HERE on AO3, or under the cut.

There’s an unpleasant buzzing in his head.

As soon as he woke up and realized he was alone, Alex ran outside, even though he knew it was futile because Henry had obviously left a few hours earlier. In the middle of the night, like a thief.

Taking Alex’s heart with him.

So now he is barefoot on the deck, staring blankly at the lake’s scintillating waters, clutching the small paper in his hand - the parting note Henry left him.

Henry left, and Alex doesn’t understand why.

The last few days have been incredible. Hours of blissful happiness, lounging in the sun, napping to the sound of the mockingbirds singing, and Henry’s eyes laughing, as blue as the Texan summer sky.

Today, the sun hurts Alex’s eyes, the birds' song is loud and obnoxious, the sky is still the same color as Henry’s eyes, and it feels terribly wrong.

Henry left.

Realization hits him like a tidal wave, and a whimper is ripped out of his throat, turning into a sob, and he crumples, holding his chest, a sudden pain so visceral and unlike he’s ever felt before, a gaping wound as big as the ocean that now sits between them.

It’s Sunday morning in Texas, and Alex’s heart breaks into a million little pieces.

****

The palace’s corridors are drafty and damp, probably because of the storm that was raging the night before.

Alex doesn’t care.

He’s in a tight, warm bubble, holding on to Henry as if his life depended on it.

And maybe it does.

If Henry had been the one jumping into the lake, it was Alex whose lungs were fighting to breathe as if he had been drowning for the past week.

The noise in his mind plaguing him for the last week has quieted down, and it is now blissfully tranquil as his chest is tucked against Henry’s back, his nose buried in the nape of his neck, finding comfort in the familiar, clean scent. His arm is wrapped over his boyfriend in a tight embrace as his hand holds Henry's wrist in an almost iron grip.

To make sure he doesn't go unnoticed again.

To anchor himself to the reality of them back in each other’s arms, where they belong.

“Please don’t leave again,” he whispers, thinking Henry is still asleep, but the young Prince stirs and turns around in his arms, and Alex is met with the full force of those cerulean eyes he adores as Henry whispers, “Never,” with a fierce, determined look and something settles in Alex’s chest at the complete certainty that this promise will never be broken.

Their lips meet in a soft kiss, and before surrendering to it, Alex thinks, briefly, happily, that this is the beginning of the rest of their lives.

It is Sunday morning in Kensington, and Alex’s heart is on the mend.

****

It has been an evening of celebration. Of declarations of love, absolute and eternal.

A communion of the souls.

It’s Henry letting out a deep moan as Alex pushes into him and starts thrusting in a well-orchestrated dance they have practiced over the years. It’s in the gasps and cornucopia of curses and words of worship Alex stutters breathlessly as he buries himself deeper until they come crashing together, an explosion of euphoria and complete serenity.

Time stands still in their bedroom where nothing and no one can touch them, at least for a little while.

The morning finds them entangled, a ray of sunshine peeking through the blinds, illuminating Henry’s tousled tawny hair and blissful, gummy smile. Alex is so happy he wants to take a picture to capture this moment forever in its beautiful intimacy. But experience tells him that it is safer to commit it to memory. He closes his eyes as Henry’s hand rests on his cheeks, and he feels the warmth of the gold band now on his finger—the one matching Alex’s.

It’s Sunday morning in Brooklyn, and nobody knows they are engaged.

It’s Sunday morning in Brooklyn, and Alex’s heart is safe.

*********

It’s a full home this weekend, a few weeks after their wedding, and everyone they love is under the same roof for a few days. Even Philip and Martha could join, bringing their kids along, to Henry’s delight.

Alex is watching the beautiful chaos that has taken over their home,

Henry is in the kitchen, preparing a cake with the help of his 5-year-old niece. She sits on the kitchen island counter and watches rapturously as Henry shows her the ingredients and explains how they will proceed, before he puts some flour on her nose, making her giggle.

And Alex can’t help but envision more days like this, whether it’s them alone or with family, but always, always with the pitter-patter of little footsteps running around and crystalline laughter.

It’s Sunday morning in Austin, and Alex’s heart is full of hope.

******

Alex wakes up alone that morning, but he’s not worried.

He even stays in bed a little bit longer until the noises coming from the kitchen and the smell of coffee become too enticing, and he joins his husband and daughter in the kitchen.

Millie likes to wake up early, and one of them will always get up to spend time with her. But sometimes she enjoys sleeping in as well, and Alex and Henry always take full advantage of that—trying for a little brother or sister, Alex jokes, mostly because it makes Henry shake his head fondly and blush prettily.

After putting the last of the breakfast dishes away, Alex steps out barefoot, enjoying the warmth of the deck under his feet.

It is another beautiful day. The birds are out for a full concerto, and the sun is high in the sky, highlighting Henry’s blond strands and Millie’s light brown curls with a golden hue as they sit outside, reading one of her books together.

Upon noticing him, Henry smiles and closes the book, pressing a kiss on the crown of her hair. He tells her it’s time to brush her teeth and get dressed—getting dressed means her pink bathing suit and matching shorts. She stops by her papi for a hug and a kiss.

The years have been kind to Henry (To both of them; he always protests, and Alex has to agree), and he looks better than ever. He put on a bit of weight in all the right places, much to Alex’s delight. Years of living in a sunny state have graced his porcelain skin with a light, healthy tan, and his nose with a multitude of freckles (Alex regularly tries to count them kiss by kiss, making Henry scrunch his nose in a way that Alex adores.) His hair is longer, curling at the base of his neck and under his ears.

But his eyes are still the color of the Texan summer sky, and Alex loves nothing more than to lose himself in them.

He kisses his husband’s cheek, and Alex slips an arm around his waist as Henry nuzzles his nose against his neck and whispers, “I have a little secret. It starts with ‘I love’ and ends with ‘you’”.

It’s Sunday morning at the Lake House, and Alex’s heart is brighter than the sun.

#red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb fic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #fluff #Sophie1973

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nialls-gorgeous-colors · 4 months

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Shawn Mendes and Niall Horan Timeline

Year 2018

JAN 2018 NIALL’S ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY SHAWN’ PICTURE AND SHAWN’S PICTURE OF THEM AT THE AMAS ARE, RESPECTIVELY, THEIR MOST LIKED POSTS ON IG FOR 2017

Jan 25 2018 Shawn talks about The Collab on The Voice: We’re really good friends and I mean, we hang out all the time. And we’re always like, ‘we should write a song’ and then we’re planning on writing a song, and we just end up hanging out. Always. (He said something similar back in Nov before the AMAs.)

Mar 2018

Fans, uh:

Mar 25 Shawn talks The Collab on The Weekend Countdown: My favorite thing about Niall is his sense of humor. He has this hilarious, Irish sense of humor that really cracks me up… How soon until there’s a collab? I have no idea. He’s always on tour when I’m writing, and he’s always writing when I’m on tour. So, one day. Hopefully.

MAY 2018

May 13 Shawn talks about performing at the O2: I mean performing the O2 was obviously just a complete dream of mine –and lucky enough to be able to do 2 nights there. A lot of people who I really love came and saw the show. Niall Horan, who’s a good friend of mine, came and watched me, and that was you know, a very special moment to me.

May 17 Shawn asks the audience at his Apple Music show to send Niall well wishes: Everybody watching online, if you could just tweet at Niall ‘feel better’ that would be really sweet.

Apple does, Niall replies:

May 24 Shawn talking about his most liked IG pic: This next photo is one of my favorite photos. Not because I’m sitting with Niall, because in the background, my A&R from Island Records, Ziggy, is there and he just looks so blow away by something and I have no idea… Also, the girl in between is making a hilarious face. That’s an awesome photo. I think this is like my most liked photo on Instagram, actually.

MAY 27 THE BIGGEST WEEKEND

Shawn and Niall do an interview together for BBC – FINALLY.

Transcribed in full here. Highlights include (via DailyNiall):

Bonus: we know, Nick

JUNE 2018

Jun 4 Niall does an interview with Fitzy & Wippa:

Sarah: Hey Niall, over the weekend… I was watching this thing on Instagram, and it was you and Shawn Mendes. Are you two just a little bit into each other? It was coming across as that you’re kind of obsessed.

Niall: Definitely not. They kept asking us questions that would make us answer it like that. Kind of like with [unintelligible], everyone thinks they’ve got a thing going on. Nah, we’re good mates. Just sat us down and interviewed us.

Sarah: I did hear you say that he plays you demos of his music before he takes it public. Was that true, or was that a lie?

Niall: No, that’s true, yeah. What’s wrong with that?

Sarah: Nothing! I just thought it’s amazing. We’re such big Shawn Mendes fans here. It was nice to see.

Interviewer: And are you brutally honest with him? If there’s a song you don’t like, or you think he could change? Do you tell him, or are you always like ‘mate, dude, this is amazing’?

Niall: Well, he’s on a bit of a roll at the minute. There’s nothing really…

Interviewer: He’s a very talented man. Have you ever thought of doing a song with Shawn? Have you guys actually put lyrics together, or music together?

Niall: No, we haven’t. We get asked about it a lot, to be fair… It’s kind of like –when we’re in the same place at the same time. Like, the other day we were in LA and a group – me and him and a group of our mates, we went to watch a U2 gig. We didn’t like – when we’re together, when we’re in the same city we don’t like sit in the studio together. Which we probably should get around to, but for the most part we just hang out together, to be honest.

Jun 7 Niall talks about Shawn during soundcheck:

and during #AskLateLateShawn: “if you had to create a boy band, who would you pick to be in it with you?” James and Shawn pick Jimi Hendrix, Harry Styles, Niall, and Elvis.

AUGUST 2018

Aug 20 At the VMAs Shawn is asked: What do you think about Niall Horan and Hailee?

Shawn: Niall and Hailee? They’re two of my favorite people in the whole world. Niall is one of my greatest friends. Hailee is one of the first people – you know, when she first started out, I was one of the first people she worked with in music. And I love them both. I thought this was common knowledge? I guess it was common knowledge for me, I’m close friends with them both.

NOVEMBER 2018

Nov 12 Shawn’s voice can be heard in the background of Niall’s InstaStory

NOV 17 SHAWN POSTS PICTURES OF HIM AND NIALL AT 40LOVE TO SNAPCHAT, INSTAGRAM, AND INSTASTORY: PICTURE, VIDEO (PUT THAT TONGUE AWAY HORAN)

DECEMBER 2018

Dec 4 Shawn talks about Niall during an interview with ET Canada.

Interviewer: You recently posted a photo with Niall Horan. And everytime you guys post a photo, fans are like ‘oh they must we working together.’

Shawn: We’re not. Not yet. We will though. You know what, we started really seriously talking about it that night. 100 percent going to happen. Niall and I talk about this pretty much every time we see each other. The truth is that we’re just really, really good friends and we always really enjoy just hanging out. And sometimes you don’t get a lot of time to hang out, so that’s what we want to do, but we’ll get in.

Dec 7 Niall tweets Shawn about his Grammy nom

Dec 8 Shawn talks with B96 about his Grammy nominations. When told to choose between charcoal, a karaoke machine, and a Bentley for Camilla, Niall (“we chose Niall for you…”) and Taylor, Shawn says: Niall’s getting the charcoal – 100 percent, immediately… Niall definitely gets the charcoal. That’s what’s most important here.

Int: I love it, that was so easy.

Shawn: Oh yeah, no, two bags of charcoal.

Int: Why was that so easy for you to say?

Shawn: It’s what he deserves! No I’m kidding. I really am kidding. I love Niall. He actually tweeted out the nicest thing he’s ever said to me ever about the Grammys, he’s just like really proud of me and tweeted it out. Yeah, he’s a good friend of mine, that’s why I’m bugging him.

Dec 14

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squidkid15 · 2 years

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Core AU

This shit’s gonna be LONG so lets do this.

So Basically

Core AU is less of an AU and is instead more of the name me and @lotusmonkey came up with for our RP. It’s canon adjacent/continuation taking place after the end of season 3 and includes all of those events as well as as many headcanons as we can possibly cram into it. It’s really kind of impressive how many we keep shoving in there as we go. It’s ever evolving and we keep adding more and retroactively making things important.

We’re just having fun.

It’s not all that cohesive, we think of fun plots and go YEEAAHHHH and shove them in there and play it out. There’s a vague through thread in that it all happens in order to the same monkeys, but that’s about it.

Characters

Okay so it’s mostly Macaque and Wukong, MK also plays a big role but we really focused on the two monkies.

Important to note, this is NOT a shadowpeach AU. They are incredibly close now that they’ve patched things up and would do anything for each other, but there’s nothing romantic between them.

Macaque (I play him hi) is if you took canon mac and made him just a bit less angry and a whole lot more abandonment issues. Snarky bastard, more or less on the good side but only because that’s where Wukong is. All he ever really wanted was to go back to how things were before he and Wukong had their big fight, and now that he’s gotten that (more on that later) he’s pretty much mellowed out. He’s still an ass (and he knows it) but he’s not out to get anyone, other than rib Wukong at every change he gets (but its more playful than biting now). He’s very much of the “i’ll do whatever i want and fuck you if you disagree” but luckily for the rest of the cast, what he wants generally aligns with what they want. He’s back by Wukong’s side again so he’s pretty happy there. So, unfortunately, he hasn’t gotten much chance to be a huge pain in the ass lately. I miss his sarcasm.

He’s a demon through and through, with his “true form” (second pic) being mostly made of shadows and a whole lot more spooky than normal. He uses layers upon layers of different kinds of glamor magics he’s developed over the centuries to basically erase that form, he hasn’t even seen himself look like that in centuries.

We lean HARD into the ‘mage macaque’ narrative, no one can match him in terms of magic alone. Getting into a fistfight with him isn’t fun either, but he’s mostly magic and brains. Can talk his way out of just about anything, we keep using the word ‘battlemaster’. He’s the thinker and the planner, and he and Wukong both know it.

Good actor also. That’s come up a couple times.

His core was broken when he died, and the resurrection put it back together enough for him to live, but it wasn’t healed (that comes later). A touch of Wukong’s magic runs up the side of it and deep through it, from how close they were when they were younger. A splash of LBD’s magic runs through the front and to the right, mimicking where the ice was. The gold (that comes from much later in the rp) that mended it is inspired by Kintsugi. It broke, and it broke badly, but was eventually mended once more.

He has the very unique ability to interact with Cores on a physical level. It’s a very rare ability in the AU, and even among those rare few Macaque has incredibly fine control over it. He can give and take magic from them, rip them free, put them back, etc. We don’t do much with it too often, but it’s VERY important when it does come up.

He got his past & future hearing back fairly early in the RP (lost it when he died) and since then no longer hides the six ears unless he has a reason to.

Also he’s just. Full on cat. I think he purred once.

Wukong (played by Hawk/ @lotusmonkey ) is if you took canon Wukong but held together by ducktape, MK, Macaque, and at least seven prayers. This man needs SO much therapy. He’s really good at hiding this fact, however (to everyone but Macaque) and instead puts on a really good carefree front. Pretty confident in himself in the moment and when things work out, but he’ll second guess himself pretty quick if they go to shit. He’ll rib back at Macaque at every opportunity, and we’ve made several jokes about him tackling Mac from across the room. He’s super protective, especially over MK and Macaque, and will get himself brutally injured in a heartbeat if it means keeping the others safe.

He has like 0 sense of self preservation. After centuries of getting injured in new and brutal ways it really doesn’t phase him anymore. He knows nothing can kill him, and has decided it’d be a nice surprise if something ended up managing it.

He’s super attached to his glamors, and will not go around without them under any circumstances. There has been one time in the RP where he dropped them willingly, and it was for only in one spot and only a couple minutes. There was another time where he was forced to drop ALL of them for an extended period of time, and it took a pretty big toll on him.

He sees MK as a son, though he doesn’t admit it out loud, and is unbelievably proud of him and everything he’s accomplished. Again, very protective of him and will do anything to keep him safe while also helping him unlock his powers to the fullest.

He’s very happy to have Macaque back in his life and on good terms once more, and has promised to ‘never leave him behind again’. For better or for worse, they’re sticking to this. Calls Macaque his ‘battle brother’ and ‘best friend’ and means it.

The weight of being ‘Monkey King’ rests heavily on him, with all the expectations to have all the answers and fixes and having to be perfect at all times. Tired of the weight of the world on his shoulders, but has also more or less accepted that he doesn’t have much of a choice in the matter, despite how miserable it makes him.

He needs a lot of hugs.

MK has a bit less screentime/building time than the other two, but he’s just as important in most of the story. He’s much the same as in the show, but maybe a bit calmer/more responsible. Hawk and I both play him depending on which monkey he’s talking to at the time, but its primarily Hawk. He’s still a good kid, and shares Wukong’s wildly protective nature, for both monkies. He sees them both (and the rest of the gang) as family, and would do anything for any of them.

He’s very curious, always excited to learn more about how something works or about a new power and magic, and eager to try it right away.

His powers are a bit more of a combination of the two monkies, he sees them both as his mentors even if Macaque would deny it and Wukong would be wildly offended. His powers are much more adaptable, so he he actually has a mix of the two of them. All of Wukong’s strength and resilience, but after the first event in the RP (more on that later) he’s gained the ability to tap into some of Macaque’s powers as well, including eventually his ability to interact with cores.

We turned him into a monkey very early on (yes, turned into) but he’s taking it well. Macaque and Wukong taught him glamor magic immediately after so he could look like his old self if he wanted to once more.

The more he gets to know Wukong on a personal instead of student/teacher level, the more he’s slowly starting to see beneath Wukong’s mask and just how much of a mess he is beneath it all, and is working on trying to figure out how best to fix it.

Cores

The namesake of the AU, cores are the biggest difference/headcanon that really defines how the AU plays out, and a whole lot of the plot points. The biggest separation from canon and the AU is cores and how we treat them and interact with them in the AU.

Cores are, essentially, souls. Every being has them, but immortals are several times the size of a mortals because they also double as a magic source/storage. They are pure magic, not a physical entity like an organ, though they are just as essential.

A soul is everything a person is. Thoughts, feelings, personality, etc. To immortals, they are also a power source. A finite (but very large) pool of magic from which immortals draw upon for magic. Some immortals tap into theirs more than others, it all depends on their magic. Macaque uses his far more than Wukong, for example, because Macaque uses far more magic. He opens portals, summons shadows, forms shadows into things, etc. All of these tap into his core. Sort of like a mana pool in a video game. Wukong, on the other hand, hardly ever taps into his. He’s far more physical, and will instead punch or kick instead of using magic.

Cores can be depleted through various means. It could be as simple as using too much magic before there’s time for it to regenerate (very rare, there is VAST amounts of magic in a core, naturally burning it all down is almost unheard of) or something draining it (which we have toyed with a few times in different ways). Draining a core is dangerous, but not fatal until and unless they are drained dry. Recovery is as simple as not using magic and resting for some time. If the mechanism to deplete a core is a bit more violent, it can sometimes take some time before using magic feels normal again, and can even be painful if too much is used too soon.

Cores can also be broken (different from being drained). Cores can only be broken by magical means, or the death of the body. A core breaks naturally in death, but can also be the cause (as was Macaque’s). A broken core is fatal.

Cores can crack or be damaged over time, and this is actually fairly common in immortals. The cracks don’t do any real tangible damage to the core, but is a sign of some sort of trauma. Either to the core directly, or emotional/mental can be a cause as well.

They’re...sort of nebulously physical. They aren’t a physical thing like an organ, there is no space in the chest for them and they aren’t there after death. They’re entirely magical, but do have an appearance (Wukong and MK can see them with gold vision/true sight). Each one looks different to each person in color/design. They only gain a physical form when one is given to them by some sort of magic designed to interact with them. A weapon that has been enchanted to target the core specifically can touch a core (in my head they have a similar texture/material to those solid glass ball knickknacks). Macaque can also give them a more physical form because of his ability to remove them. Once removed they can be held by others, but it’s only after Macaque has given them a form. It makes sense in my head but as soon as I put it on paper it sounds a bit silly lmao.

Plot

It’s ongoing, like I said, because we just keep thinking of fun new things to add to it and we’re planning like 15 plot points ahead of where we’ve already written, but the barebones of where we’ve gone so far:

1. MK saves Macaque & Macaque saves MK

This whole thing actually started as just a one-off idea & RP (as you do) and was meant to just explore an idea. But now we’re almost a month into a single throughplot. But the original idea was based on mage mac and how he relies much more heavily on magic to run than MK or Wukong, who have just their 7 kinds of immortality. MK and Macaque being trapped somewhere that sapped their magic (we later decided they got kidnapped when MK delivered noodles to Mac’s place, sorta retconned in the “how”), Macaque’s a lot faster than MK. MK manages to hold out/make it easier on Macaque for as long as he can, until they’re both on death’s door. When he’s basically out, he offers his core to Macaque to take, break, and use it to save himself (like how he does when they first meet, but more willingly and a bit more desperate).

Mac, who has since grown a bit fond of MK, does something slightly different. He still takes some of the power from MK’s core to open a portal and get them both out of there, but doesn’t break it. Instead, when he pulls it out, MK turns to stone.

Wukong shows up at this point, having felt them arrive on his mountain and sees Mac like seven eights dead and MK turned to stone trying to protect him. He’s Not Happy but after a bit of explaining from Mac, doesn’t take it out on him. Instead, to reverse it, Macaque acts as a conduit to recharge MK’s core using Wukong’s. One hand on Wukong’s, one hand on MKs, letting the power move through him to charge MK’s core enough that it’s no longer in any danger. Mac struggles with the urge to just crush Wukong’s core right then and there because they’re still on terrible terms. He resists. The stone cracks, MK is saved, but is now monkey after getting a direct shot of Wukong’s magic (this is also where MK picks up his ability to use some of mac’s powers).

Head back to the mountain for some recovery time, teaching MK how to glamor. Wukong and Mac snark at each other over it. Eventually they break into an argument about Macaque’s death - turns out Wukong had no idea Macaque died. He thought macaque went off on his own after their fight to stew and wanted nothing to do with Wukong again. Macaque was killed by a third party immediately after the fight, soon enough that he thought it was Wukong. They make up (maybe a bit quick, if I could go back and rewrite I would maybe make it take longer, but thats just me and we were excited to get to the fun of them being buddies again. Like I said, this is mostly for fun instead of a cohesive plot) and make a Very Important promise.

"I.. I can't go back, I can't change it. But.. I won't leave you behind. Never again."

“I'm going to hold you to that this time. For better or for worse, you're not leaving me behind again."

Mac finishes recovering, MK takes a bit longer because he was so much more damaged.

2. Storming heaven & the mayor

Turns out, while mac and MK were captured and being drained like batteries, Wukong was running around interrogating people trying to figure out where the fuck his rival and kid ended up. He gets a few vague leads before they manage to escape on their own.

During the recovery, before he and Mac made up, Wukong was periodically popping in and out to continue his hunt for answers. After they make up, Wukong stays true to his word and doesn’t leave Mac behind. Once he’s all better, however, they’re off. One of the leads Wukong found was that the assassination attempt was orchestrated by someone up in the celestial realm itself, and he and Macaque go kicking in their door (very literally) for answers.

They get a couple. The attempt on Mac’s life was because heaven saw him and Wukong working together in the battle against LBD and feared what would happen with the two of them together once more. The attempt on MK’s life was because they feared a second Wukong, and some calamity he was supposed to bring (foreshadowing go BRRRRR). The mechanism of the attempt on their lives is something (we made up) called the Dark Ravine. Some ancient thing that was used to kill immortals, drained the magic out of them. It hasn’t been used for some time.

They also find that one of heaven’s court is infected with...something. They don’t know what it is. But the noble keels over half-dead after muttering some ominous nonsense. Mac and Wukong are understandably a bit wigged out, as is the rest of the court. Ne’Zha (who we again passed back and fourth, but usually ended up being me) is assigned to join them on their quest to figure out what the hell happened. They leave with more questions than answers.

They keep searching, busting in more doors in both the celestial and mortal realms. After one such dead end in the mortal realm, the three of them are attacked by the not-mayor, who appears to have a new master. Macaque and Wukong beat him up pretty good (Ne’Zha stays out to evacuate some civilians because the two of them is already wildly overkill) until Macaque stumbles, his core flaring up after so much intense use so soon after it was damaged. The Mayor tries to take advantage of this, going for Macaque, but Wukong takes the hit instead. Immediately after, the mayor makes his exit with some cryptic words.

3. Sick Wukong & the shadow

They keep going, Macaque notices the hit seems to be bothering Wukong some but Wukong plays it off well enough that Mac sorta forgets. Keep searching, Macaque pushes Wukong into a river at one point when they stop for the night. It’s very cute. Water wars part one.

We do a lot of timeskipping at this point as the 3 go around. At one point Wukong astral projects to check on MK. He’s still doing good, the rest of the gang came up to the mountain to hang out.

Wukong slowly starts to slow down, acting sick. He goes from being the first person awake to the last one, and he’s just not all there. Very cold, and Mac starts to notice and get worried. Before he can really properly bring it up, however, they’re attacked again.

This time, but some broken, twisted Shadow Macaque. It looks like one of his clones, but it’s all sorts of messed up. It gets a couple really good hits on Wukong, and is definitely targeting him, more or less ignoring Macaque and Ne’Zha. One of the hits rips Wukong’s glamors (& hoodie, he slept in a hoodie and they were attacked pretty early in the morning) and reveals a big black crack looking thing over his chest, where the mayor hit him. He’s Not Doing Good, so Macaque and Ne’Zha have to try and protect him.

The shadow thing, turns out, is using Mac’s lantern as a core/power source, but Macaque can’t get to it without risk of being infected the same way they now know Wukong was. Wukong, being the self sacrificing idiot he is, uses himself as bait to give Mac an opening to rip the lantern free, but Wukong gets really badly injured in the process. Now with his old weapon in hand, Mac’s more or less unstoppable and crushes the shadow before rushing to check on Wukong.

4. Mac’s turn in the blender

Right after he gets there, a portal opens beneath him and Wukong. It’s some twisted thing, one he almost recognizes (black center & blue fire ring), and it drops them both in the ruins of LBD’s mech. Snowy cold and big chunks of metal scattered everywhere, very cool image. They got separated in the portal travel, and Mac starts hunting for Wukong.

Wukong, meanwhile, is REALLY not doing good. The attacks from the shadow made the infection worse, and he’s basically delirious. The mayor (the one who portaled them) finds him before Mac does, and starts dragging him off to Somewhere ( :) ).

Mac keeps searching, and eventually finds the both of them in the center of the ruins of the mech. Big, empty circle where the butt of the staff crushed everything under it. In the center there’s the furnace, and the mayor dragging a very limp Wukong towards it.

Mac jumps in to protect Wukong, and it....doesn’t go well.

The mayor’s new master is the ravine (which is sorta weirdly semi-sentient, enough to make plans but all it really wants is to feed on magic) and he’s working with it in order to eliminate the major threats that thwarted his lady, getting them out of the way so he can can continue her work. Part of that agreement is that the mayor gets some...upgrades. The ravine has already chewed on a decent chunk of Mac’s power (where the shadow came from, and where the mayor got the almost-familiar portal) as well as MK’s and now Wukong’s (from the infection). And the mayor got some of those powers in order to help deliver the entirety of the monkey’s cores to the ravine.

Mac gets flattened.

He’s broken in all of the places in only a couple hits, and the mayor goes back to trying to melt Wukong down again. Mac manages to talk the mayor into trying to kill mac first, with the plan that he could portal away from the inside of the furnace without the mayor ever knowing.

Unfortunately, the furnace acts as a sort of nullifier, and mac’s magic doesn’t work inside it. Wukong woke up enough to see Mac getting dropped in and panics hard enough to basically nuke the area, blowing up anything that could be used to light the furnace and damaging the mayor enough that he leaves to recuperate. He knocks himself the fuck out when he nukes the place, and the mayor gives him a solid kick in anger before leaving, really messing his chest up.

Mac has no idea this has happened, the furnace is completely soundproof, and he’s stuck with the sound of himself alone.

Ne’Zha, meanwhile, has started searching for the monkies after they dropped through a portal that didn’t seem too intentional - Mac left the lantern behind. After coming up empty each time, he contacts MK in the hopes that they had gone back to him. This, in turn, freaks MK out and he and Ne’Zha meet up to go track the monkies down. Combining his gold vision with the magic in Mac’s lantern, MK manages to lead them to the monkies. They see the remains of Mac’s fight with the mayor and are Immediately worried because there’s a whole lot of blood. They see Wukong first and fret over him before the furnace starts yelling to MK again (like it did telling him to stop in the show) and they find Mac.

In the time it took for Ne’Zha to find MK and for them to arrive at the furnace, it’s given Macaque his past & future hearing back. (the reasoning being that it gave wukong sight, and talked to MK, we were wondering what it would do for Mac). Mac hasn’t had this power in centuries, and he’s beyond overwhelmed by hearing everything all at once as well as how broken he is from the fight.

They manage to get the monkies home, but it’s not fun for anyone.

5. Fever Wukong Arc (tm)

Ne’Zha borrows a healer from heaven to at least get the monkies off death’s doorstep, but there’s only so much they can do because they don’t know what’s wrong with Wukong, and Macaque is VERY broken.

They spend a few days unconscious, and eventually Mac wakes up first. MK gives him some pretty heavy duty earmuffs to block out most of the sounds because Mac is in Sensory Hell while he can’t control this power, and doesn’t talk for a while because its too loud.

Wukong takes a lot longer to wake up, and he’s barely there for most of it. He’s deep in the fever and super delirious, it’s not very often he’s fully aware. He accidentally reveals some Trauma in his haze, and his glamors are forced to drop when the infection drags on his magic too much. Macaque actually has to forcefully remove them because Wukong would have killed himself trying to hang on to them and fighting the infection like that. He doesn’t take it well.

Macaque and MK start looking for a cure in Wukong’s library, but find exactly no information on the ravine anywhere. They do, however, find information on a forest (that we made up) that will answer any question you ask of it, assuming you can pass its trial. They start banking on this being their best bet to save Wukong, because he’s actively dying.

And he knows it.

Macaque knows it too, but he’s Very Deep in denial.

As of the time of writing this, we’re in the middle of a bittersweet fluffy moment where Mac and Wukong are grooming each other and Macaque is talking about the stupid shit they’ll get up to when Wukong gets better.

The last reply is from Hawk, and Wukong is humoring him asking about where they’ll go as he’s actively passing out and his heartbeat is slowing.

And that’s as far as we’ve gotten.

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk au #lego monkie kid au #lmk core au #lmk sun wukong #lmk macaque #lmk mk #lmk ne'zha #doodles #drabbles #squid speaks #and we have so much future stuff planned #im SO excited

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solaneceae · 4 months

Text

shall we look at the moon, my little loon?

People didn’t get sick on Quesadilla island. Maybe because they always had potions and gapples on hand. Or maybe the Federation’s Rules simply didn’t allow it, another restrictive function shoved into server code to keep its residents happy. This Server, though… read on ao3

Red pebbles shriek under his step, rolling down the hill to reveal the sun-bleached bones of a long-dead tiger. The air feels sweltering even though the sun is setting, bathing Purgatory in long shadows. His backpack’s strap feels frayed between his fingers, against his shoulder. The friction hurts. Cellbit heaves his body up the last rocky steps, a bout of dizziness almost making him sway and fall off the cliff. But he catches himself, crouches down for a moment, breathes his way out of the creeping darkness.

His head is pounding, his brain cooking inside his fever-heated skull. But it’s nothing he can’t push through. He knows how to survive in the worst places, it’s what he’s good at. He raises his head, stares at the entrance of the hole he calls home. His eyes are always red these days, throat always raw from breathing in this tainted, sulphuric air.

(He remembers anger. Rage. Now he barely knows how it felt, bloodlust long since turned to regret and apathy. He has nothing left. Nothing to fight for, to kill for.)

(Except for one thing, maybe.)

“Baghs,” Cellbit calls out with a soft whisper as he crosses the mouth of the cave, steps deeper into the mercifully cooler air and dim lights of improvised lamps. He rips his gas mask off his face and lets it fall with a dull thud, rubs at the indents it left behind on his face. Kneels down, winces when his wounds sting and throb with pain under dirty bandages. “I’m back, patinha. Can you wake up for me?”

Baghera does not respond, quiet and still, curled onto her side on their poor excuse of a bedroll — more of a pile of hay at this point. He drops a damaged backpack onto the dusty floor, rummages through it in search of something. “I found water,” he produces a full bucket from his pack, sets it down and scrolls through his hotbar until a glass vial appears in his hand. He coughs as he fills it up — it hurts, acid and fire in his trachea. “Good water.” Even the water goes bad now, after a while. Sitting nauseatingly in their stomachs and making them hurl out whatever they had managed to eat that day.

“You need to drink something,” he pushes, shakes the other’s shoulder carefully. Baghera doesn’t stir.

The Watcher made the rules here. And as server Host, it too had extended its protection upon them as they went at his beck and call, doing his bidding. They had done well as its bloodhounds, seeking and maiming, raining hell onto hidden bases and sinners alike. But ever since they had refused its last order, their privileges had seemingly expired. (‘kill the sinners’, it said. kill each other, it had meant. And they hadn’t, because above being loyal to the Watcher, they were loyal to each other.)

Their ‘benefactor’ had gone silent after that day. No more orders, but also no more protection, no more supplies appearing in their chests to keep them fed and geared up. Injuries that should’ve healed over in minutes now lingered, their armors no longer mending, their supply of food now rotting. Even their meagre wheat farm had decayed, the dirt too toxic for anything to grow. Which meant that they were back to square one, scrounging for scraps of food and hurting and hiding from disasters that they were no longer immune to. And in a place like this, it hadn’t been long before it all started to take its toll on them — too many disasters, too many wounds left to fester, and a mockery of a caretaker who no longer cared enough to keep them alive.

The sickness had creeped up on them — from drinking that lukewarm and unclean water, from wounds wrapped in haste with no disinfectant. Cuts on their arms and legs growing red and swollen with infection, poisoning their bloodstream. Baghera had fallen to it first, eyes growing less and less focused as the days went on and nothing changed, red skies and sulphur and complete isolation. She could no longer hunt, too weak to run — so Cellbit left more often in search of the odd patch of wheat, as much as he loathed to leave her alone. “Baghera,” he tries again, shaking a little harder when the other doesn’t react beyond a vague twitch of her eyelids. She’s so warm, too warm, the fever just isn’t breaking despite all the damp rags (now dry and falling off of her as Cellbit shakes her limp form), and her feathers aren’t helping. “Please…”

(“Please don’t leave,” Baghera had pleaded the first time he had to go out there alone. “Please.” He had gone anyway, despite the aches in his limbs and the fever making the world too warm and fuzzy, because he had to. Came back with a lackluster haul of three dead rats and some sugarcane only to find his packmate curled into a tight ball against the wall of their cave, broken chirps and quacks tumbling from her bill endlessly. where, where, flock, scared, help, he recognized. Pale yellow and white softness littered the floor around her, some of it stained red, as she smoothed over her wings with her bill and plucked feather after feather until Cellbit cupped her face to make her stop. He started to plan around her after that, waiting for her to slip into restless, sticky sleep to leave.)

Cellbit sighs. Wipes the beads of burning sweat off his forehead, glares at the way his hand shakes from the fever. At least he can sweat it out — Baghera can’t, her breath coming up in short little puffs of too-hot air as she pants in her sleep, her body struggling to cool itself down. She looks awful — they both do to be fair, so much so that he barely dares to glance at his reflection in the water these days. He can’t even remember the last time he took a bath, and he doesn’t have enough ocelot in his code for grooming to be an option. But days of unconsciousness and delirium have left his packmate dreadfully thin, her feathers dull — she hasn’t preened them in weeks, water no longer rolling off of them without the oil. Her face is pinched in discomfort, her eyes swollen and bruised by weeks and weeks of restless nights spent tossing and being jolted awake by nightmares.

(He knows them all by now. White cloaks and needles, the few memories she regained of her childhood. Pomme dying. Cellbit, dying or leaving, her being alone. He holds her when she wakes, too weak to cry, because his own dreams taste of blood and flesh he knows a bit too well but it’s not as bad when she holds him.)

“Hey,” Cellbit gently rolls her onto her back and sneaks a hand under her neck to lift her head up. He feels feathers and heat, heat, too much. Baghera doesn’t react beyond a croaky whine, her chest heaving as she pants. “I’m getting some water in you, right now. Come on.” He slowly, ever-so slowly tips the glass bottle, lets a few drops fall into her open beak. She chokes on her next inhale, coughs painfully, and Cellbit whispers apologies in sheepish Portuguese, tilts her head up a bit more. At least she’s more aware now, cloudy eyes cracked open and darting around aimlessly. “Boa tarde, patinha,” he attempts a smile, but it feels more like a grimace on his face. Baghera hums, rests her head against his scarred-up arm. Mumbles something with harsh consonants and fricatives. “Didn’t get that, sorry.”

“Connard,” she croaks out, and oh, this he understands. She hasn’t spoken anything but barely-legible French in days, too out of it to bother with translating. “So you recognize me. That’s good. Maintenant bois,” he switches to heavily-accented French to make sure she understands. (The lack of, well, anything to do meant that they have spent plenty of time learning each other’s languages in the last few months.)

“Non.”

Stubborn as always. “Discute pas, Baghs. Ou je te donne du thé à la place.” He’s lying, of course — they do not have tea on hand. But the threat works, and the duck makes a weak sound of disgust. “Non, non…”

“Then please don’t fight me on this.” He gently grabs her hand-wing (a confusing anatomy, his packmate has) to curl it around the bottle, letting her feel the chill of fresh water inside glass. “Think you can do it yourself today?”

She can’t — her arms shake too much, her grip on the bottle too loose. So Cellbit pours the water through the side of her open beak, a gentle, slow trickle, until the bottle is empty and his friend silently nudges it with her bill. “Need more?” She nods. “Okay.” Good, that’s good, he thinks. She drains about half of the second bottle before she bats at his arm to make him stop, visibly fighting a wave of nausea. It fades, thankfully.

“How’d you feel about eating?” he asks next, and the look she gives him is hazy and unsure — but not a straight refusal. Food is scarce in this hell, even more so than water — and what little he finds is nothing like the softer things you would feed a sick person. Only the meat of the vermin that can’t outrun him (yet), and tasteless bread from the occasional wheat crops he stumbles upon outside. Still Cellbit tries, carefully ripping up and chewing tiny bits of meat and bread before feeding them to her — munching on solid food is a complex endeavour with no teeth, and if Baghera managed fine with just her bill before, she is no longer in any state to do so.

(He would make a joke about mama birds, but he does not find any levity in it. Not when the only person he has left in this world is fading away, right there in his arms.)

When she’s done (which she makes him understand by turning her head away from his hand), he shoves every soft material he can gather beneath her upper back and neck. Hopefully it will help her keep the food down this time. Manoeuvring her is hard despite how light she is, mostly hollow bones and feathers — but he’s so tired, and he kinda wants to throw up — the nausea getting worse the longer he stays up, vision getting hazy.

“Tu penses que j’la verrai ?”

He blinks, sluggishly. Baghera’s words are slurred and quiet, which makes them hard to parse. “Mh?”

“Pomme.”

A startled mrrrp. Baghera never talks about her. Didn't even open that expansive journal of hers, the one they had found along with all those old blue and red signs amongst herds of bulls and flights of butterflies. She makes a weird sound as her head rolls to the side, like laughter, or maybe a sob. “J’l’entend, des fois. Placer ses panneaux… près de moi.” Her hands curl into fist-like shapes, briefly. “Et puis… j’me réveille, et elle est pas là. Elle sera plus jamais là.”

(He tries not to think of it. Of him. His egg, his baby, his brave and rambunctious kit. Pain and longing blooms inside his chest, thorns and blood-soaked petals, and he ignores it because packmate sad, packmate in pain, fix, fix.) “Baghs…” Cellbit reaches out to touch her shoulder, and she wails, a heartbreaking sound caught between a sorrowful wail and a distressed quack. “Baghs! Shhh,” he pulls her into a tight embrace, making sure she feels pressure from all sides, her head resting in the space between his shoulder and his neck. “Calma— pare, pare. Vai se machucar.”

“I want to see her,” she sobs, and Cellbit is so startled by hearing English again he doesn’t respond. “But I’m— ’m a bad person, failure. She was good, so good, she was my baby and I can’t go where she is.” A cough; it sounds so bad, like there’s fluid inside her lungs. Cellbit prays it’s not blood. “My Pomme is in Heaven, Cellbo, and I’m going to Hell.”

(Few of them believed in such concepts, back on the island — many were acquainted with deities, ruling over things such as Creativity or Death or Beauty, or with entities from the Other Side, yes. Baghera herself had chosen to give herself over to Chaos, but never seemed the type to adhere to more classical religious beliefs. But Purgatory had happened. Purgatory was something you didn’t walk away from unchanged — or at all, in their case. They were both sinners, as the Watcher had oh-so-helpfully drilled into their minds over and over until they broke.)

“It’s okay,” he whispers, and he could scream at how wrong that is, nothing is okay, our kids are dead, your only friend is dying and in pain, are you fucking stupid? “Shhh.” He places his lips on her forehead, winces at how hot it is still. She needs to cool down. “You’re not bad to me, patinha. You’re the best thing I have left.”

Baghera chirps and quacks unsteadily, eyes clouding over as she descends back into avianspeak. egg, egg, baby, where, nest, flock, where, help, and the trill-name she uses for Cellbit, several times over. Something like flock-blood-brother-me. “Estou aqui,” he murmurs, keeping one hand squeezing hers as he lays her back down to pick up the dry rags around her. “Je suis là. Avec toi.”

“You’re not going to die, are you? You’re not going to leave me?”

“I told you,” he hums, pouring cool water onto the rags and placing them on her chest, her arms, her forehead — he has considered just digging out a hole, filling it with water and dipping her into it instead, but he was afraid it would be too much of a shock to her system. “I won’t leave you. So you don’t either, okay? Stay.”

She doesn’t reply, eyes closed and chest heaving with short, hot puffs of breath. She’s out again.

Cellbit sighs, drapes one last damp rag over her tear-swollen eyes. He gently presses his forehead against hers, angling himself so her beak doesn’t poke at his chin — the rag is blissfully cool against his skin, but he can already feel the heat of her sickness radiating through it. “Por favor,” he whispers, aware she can’t hear him — let alone understand him. He lets himself sag against her, exhaustion pulling at him, heavy head resting upon her feathered chest just above her heart. He can hear it: rabbit-quick, restless, fighting. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. Ba-bump. “Por favor. Viva. Pra mim.”

“No. We promised, right?”

“Right…”

“Você também me prometeu,” he slurs out, tendrils of darkness creeping in. He’s so tired, sick, and his entire being begs for reprieve. “Não… não me deixa sozinho. Não posso perder você também...”

"Please don't leave me."

"I won't. Never."

Within a dilapidated cave, Cellbit and Baghera drift. Atop the waves far away, a little motorboat sails, leaving white foam and inky black feathers in its wake.

#qsmp #fanfic #baghera jones #cellbit #chainsawkillers #tw self harm mention #i miss em #we'll see them in about ten days tho #god i hope they are FUCKED UP

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candied-boys · 1 year

Text

🍯 Honey Cakes 🍯

Luke Randolph x fem! Reader

Tags: merpeople au, lazy!Luke, happy!Luke, possessive!Luke, romance, picnics, cottagecore, eventual smut, happy ending

Part one

2400 words

Each day that passes makes you doubt yourself more and more. As your memories fade his face blurs, bits of the conversation disappear, and the idea that a merman would eat cake feels even more preposterous than there being merfolk in the lake at all. All week while you scuttle around the bakery you're left wondering if it was nothing more than a dream or if you’ve genuinely started to lose your mind.

The spell of disbelief is broken only when, one evening while you sit gabbing by the fire, Mrs. Baker asks, “With no mother around to tell tales, did you ever hear any of the lore from ‘round these parts?”

When you shake your head she leans back in her rocking chair, and you know you're in for a long night of delightful banter.

“The fées are well-known here. Small and handsome in person; they are fond of dancing in the night-time, and in their circular dances they form the Cercles des Fées, or fairy-rings. If any one approaches their dance, he is irresistibly impelled to take part in it. He is admitted with the greatest courtesy; but as the whirling movement increases, and goes faster and faster, his head becomes giddy, and he falls to the ground utterly exhausted. Sometimes the fées amuse themselves by flinging him up to a great height in the air, and, if not killed by the fall, he is found next morning full of bruises.”

“That's awful!” you protest but the old woman merely chuckles.

“They aren't all bad. These little beings, it is also said, like the Lutins, they select particular farms to which they resort at night, and there making use of horses, harnesses and utensils of all kinds, they employ themselves at various kinds of work, of which, however, no traces remain in the morning.”

“How does anyone know they were ever there then?” you query sceptically.

“Well, you see. They are fond of mounting and galloping the horses; their seat is on the neck, and they tie together locks of the mane to form stirrups. The knotted manes are how the farmers know they've been there. Their presence, however, always brings luck, the cattle thrive where they are, the utensils of which they have made use, if broken are mended and made as good as new. They are altogether most kind and obliging, and have been known to give cakes to those to whom they have taken a fancy.”

While stoking the fire you ask her curiously, “Do faeries usually take a fancy to humans?”

“Some are malevolent and only play tricks, others come to warn of danger or death. Very few of the fair folk dare to reveal themselves, yet I recall hearing quite a number of tales of romance between fay and humans when I was a wee babe.”

“Romance?”

“Certainly, dear. Legend has it that the royal castle was built with fay magic. It all began with the story of the nobleman Elinas and the mysterious woodland beauty Pressine. Elinas had recently lost his wife and was out hunting to distract himself from his grief. In the forest, he came to drink at the Well of Thirst and heard Pressine singing nearby. They returned to his hunting lodge and talked through the night, and Elinas fell in love and asked her to marry him. Pressine agreed, noting how the devotion he showed to his first wife promised the same for his second. She made him swear an oath to one condition, however, that he never try to see her at the birth of any of their children. Elinas agreed, and the two became happily married.”

Sipping her tea she continues, “In time, Pressine gave birth to triplets, three girls – Melusine, Melior, and Palatine – and when Elinas heard the news, he was overcome with joy and rushed to the bedchamber to see them, forgetting his oath. Pressine was outraged, calling him a traitor to his word, and then took the girls and spirited them away, leaving Elinas to mourn his loss for the rest of his life. Pressine also mourned over the loss of her true love, however, and she brought the girls to a high mountain each morning where they could look out upon Elinas’ realm while she told them they would be living there if their father had only kept his word.”

“That's tragic. It's not much of a romance…”

“True, but I still enjoyed the story as a child because my grandmother would say the mountain is the one behind the castle and the lake at the foot of the hills is where Pressine lived before she fell in love, and thus that’s where she returned broken-hearted to her true form. When I was young I remember there were many rumours about faeries living in the lake. Of course, there were also rumours that the faeries would drown passers-by, so I never went near it.”

During the long walk through the royal forest, you spin the story again and again in your head contemplating whether the legends were ever meant to be more than just a way to spook children out of swimming in the lake for their own safety. Lost in thought, you arrive before you’ve even realised how far you’ve come, and only stumble to your senses when blinded by a shimmering brilliance.

Sprawled upon the warm granite shelf that drops into the water, he lay asleep bathing in the golden sun. The moss masking your steps and the north sun keeping your shadow at bay, you approach softly. Setting the basket aside to kneel at his rusty locks, you bask in his presence unable to believe he’s not a dream.

His lashes cast elegant shadows on his cheeks. His arms, like sculpted marble, cross beneath his head. His scales toy with the sunlight, turning its rays into glitter as if they should be the strongest of the two.

The wind teases his hair, fluttering the already messy strands that frame his handsome face. Thoughtless in the moment, rapt by his beauty, you reach out to brush the fringe out of his eyes. In that instant, your wrist is snatched so quickly you can't even register his movement.

Pale jade peers out lazily from under heavy eyelids as he asks, “How long y’ gonna sit there starin’ at me for?”

“Sorry. I just can't believe you're actually real…”

He hums amusedly, “Maybe I'm not, but I guess y'll have y’r proof if I eat all the cake y’ brought, wonya?”

With that same cheeky grin he flashed last week he releases your hand and rolls over to pry open the basket himself.

“Oh! What's the other thin’?” he asks upon peering under the lid.

“I'll tell you if you tell me your name first,” you chirp with a coy smile.

He looks you once over; then the basket in turn, his lips pulled to one side like he's contemplating whether it's worth it before answering.

“Luke. What's y’rs?”

You introduce yourself and as promised tell him what the basket holds.

“It’s a buttermilk pie with toasted honey. They had apple blossom honey at the market this week too, so I picked up a jar for you.”

“Not that I'm complainin’ or nothin’, but weren' it a lotta work to make this much?” he asks and pops a honey cake in his mouth.

Digging out the pie and untying the kerchief you answer, “Not really. I work at a bakery where we make things like this all day long. Do merfolk have jobs and such?”

“Nah. There may be a lotta us, but we mostly just look after ourselves and our kinfolk. Nothin’ like y’ have with y’r money and y’r markets up here,” he shrugs and steals another cake.

“So how do you usually spend your days then if you're not working?”

Rolling into his back once more he stares up at the sky and yawns, “Mmm, when I'm not nappin’ I'm usually makin’ somethin’. My sister likes it when I make her things. Growin’ up she was all I had, so I did everythin’ I could to make her happy.”

Skirting the darker implication, you ask what he would make for her as you begin to slice the pie.

“When she was a lil' thin' she liked it when I’d carve trinkets for her out o' soapstone — animals like bears and deer and ducks. Now the brat’s too old for toys. Wants combs ‘n accessories for her hair, so I make 'em outta quartz or amethyst. Whatever I find.”

Though he sounds a little miffed at his sister's new interests there's a warm look in his eyes and a gentle arc to his thin lips as he speaks. You suppose that's just what it's like watching someone you love grow and change, though you wouldn't know yourself for being an orphan.

When he stretches over his head for another cake, you notice the new green and yellow banded jewellery on his wrists.

“Did you make those cuffs you're wearing too?”

“Mhm,” he hums through a mouthful. “These’re jasper. It's common ‘round here ‘cause the mountain used to be a volcano. The lava tubes left crazy long caves, and where bubbles got trapped in the lava as it cooled water and minerals seeped in. So it's easy to find gems like agates ‘cause when the rock wears away, the crystals fall out and get buried in the sediment.”

After admiring them for a bit you wonder aloud, “But you can't use fire to forge chisels and such, so how do you make them without tools?”

“Without tools? Ya think I carve ‘em with my teeth or somethin’? ‘Course we have tools,” he laughs and sits up.

“Everythin’ we use underwater is made o’ stone. The tools are just made outta even harder stone. I chip away bigger parts and carve ‘em up with hard, sharp rocks. Then, I use long, thin rocks to do detailed work like the teeth on a comb. After that it's a lotta polishin’, but we have a lotta sand. Just takes patience.”

“That's incredible. I can't imagine how much effort goes into a single piece. My pie seems rather humble in comparison.”

Dishing up the slices, you hand him a fork and a dish. Pale green eyes alight with anticipation, he takes a bite half the size of the whole piece. You end up serving him seconds before you're even two nibbles in.

“So what do you eat underwater? Do you eat everything raw? Is there anything but fish down there?”

He shakes his head, swallowing a mouthful of the soft dessert, before explaining, “We dunna cook over a fire , but we have other ways o’ preserving food. Some foods we salt, others we pickle. Most of it we eat fresh though ‘cause there's plenty to enjoy besides fish — shells, clams, turtles, lots o’ green plants, roe in the summer, roots in the fall.”

“Nothin’ as sweet as y’r treats though,” he beams and holds out his already empty plate for another refill.

“So how deep is the lake?” you query, curious how there's room in there for all the merfolk to never be seen from the surface.

“It’d take me from when the sun is highest in the sky to when it's just above the western horizon to swim to the bottom and back.”

“That's over five hours!! That's so deep!!”

“And I swim real fast too.”

“How do you see when it's pitch black?’

“We have good vision. There’re some creatures that glow too, but mostly we just use our other senses — echolocation, pressure, the shift o’ the current, scent, whatever.”

You spend the rest of the afternoon asking him everything about what it's like to live underwater — or at least as many questions as you can get in before he finishes all the goodies you brought for him.

But this time he doesn't run away as soon as the basket is empty. Instead he lies back just as you found him a few hours ago, arms crossed under his head and eyes closed.

You were starting to wonder if he'd actually fallen asleep until he slipped one hand out and lazily reached up to the sky to let a chickadee perch on his finger. Recalling what he said the first day, you watch fascinated as the little bird chirps away at him and he whispers back.

Hardly a minute later, a dozen tiny birds have flocked to his side. Too busy pecking away at the crumbs on the ground, they pay you no mind. A few take turns hopping up on his palm for a chat. Others seem to find it fun to weave in and out of his long hair where hangs in loose strands.

Tone hushed as not to startle the darling creatures you ask, “What are they saying?”

“They wanna know what I'm doin’ up here with a dangerous monster like you,” he quips, a teasing lilt in his voice as his green eyes catch yours from the side.

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish while you attempt and fail to defend yourself.

“Actually, what are you doing up here? I know I'm no danger to you, but it doesn't seem like sunbathing is popular with merfolk judging by the fact we're all alone. Are you allowed above water?”

“Nope,” he answers, popping the p like a bubble. “But I dunna give a damn.”

“Aren't you going to get in trouble?”

“Nah, no one cares enough to bother me. They know I'm just up here ‘cause I'm bored.”

“Are you sure? I don't want to get you in trouble… and uh… I definitely don't want any trouble…”

Luke merely shrugs, slipping his arm back under his head when the little bird takes flight.

“Huh. That's funny. I'm pretty sure y're not suppos' be on the palace grounds at all.”

He chuckles at your self-condemning silence. “Y’ wouldna be here if y’ didna think it's worth gettin’ in trouble for.”

Part three...

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri fanfiction #ikemen prince fanfiction #ikemen luke #ikemen prince luke randolph #luke randolph #ikemen prince luke #ikepri luke #mermay #mermay 2023

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kuraikyu · 11 months

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@trehontin : Deny him, hm? What a bold move to make, and he underlines that with just the mere shift of his body a bit closer to him. A bit nearer [ too close? ], sapping the strength between their boundaries with nothing but his presence and the benign laugh somewhere deep within his chest. He knew a jest when it was presented to him, but alas. " Why play so coy? " Because they both knew. " Want me to plead for an answer? Or just want me to ask nicely? " Whatever it was, he may entertain in just unraveling the other man a bit further. Bit by bit, just wanting to see him come undone [ not quite yet? ]. Thus he could speak, in that soft and whispered tone. " Kindly indulge me a bit further, will you? Did you like what you saw? " [ for geto :} <3 ]

ㅤ𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐎 accept absolutions of immensity than in inviting embrace of death? Just like he entangled himself in perpetual aeon of this invisible chase that peeled him raw slice by slice and left to trill something in his veins. To straddle seldom curves of fundamental duality & to have one hand drift and defy gravity with order and security, and the other in chaos, and possibility. Having all one's interest absorbed by something so sanguinary ... angry, and engrossed, he felt right now and full of get-up-and-go. He loathed this situation ... the chain events ... this man ... his presence ... the way he looked at him ... the way his unknown energy printed invisible marks and tried to bend him in his knees ... If it wasn't for his morbid fascination with everything dire and deadly, he would sickly curl, embracing his stomach in derisive self-laughter of an emotional rollercoaster akin to the one he has fought since Star-Plasma Vessel mission. Despite being pro-justice-oriented, Suguru hated listening to someone else's orders and he hardly ever found himself interested in other people, so what made this guy ( think he was ) special? This confusion brought back the mantra of despair because he could not understand what the hell was the meaning of all of this. And suddenly he remembers all those scary myths about otherworldly beings kidnapping / murdering the living. What if this time he wasn't a hunter anymore but the one being hunted? The unsettling terror that would strike guts of anyone acknowledging such realization. But what if - maybe they could be of mutual use to one another. Dangerous thought. Either way, there was no escape now, not from that warmth. There were many subjective questions, but no grounding instinctive self for it was too late, and the man was close; too close to the point where their chests almost touched. The following strangeness of such, sacred, fiery togetherness, substantially fills the habitable space between them beyond personal and social norms. The resonance of unknown energy would mesh and conflux with his cursed on the whole, stirring something that was over the moon for living and rapturous for non-living; purring somewhere between back gates of his portals. He did not know why this man was here, but he wanted to know why his body especially the energetical perkiness of his ardor reacted the way it did, and as if it wasn't enough as if all the negative emotions he exorcised tried to claw their way out to pierce, puncture, tear and devour (the creatures wanted right?) . The only way how to figure it out was to play this game. Death bringer in the guise of such aural apparition could very well see through his sotto voce and pretense veil of impassivity which held but one singular purpose and that to be served as a tease. As his students would jokingly say - 'he was good at hiding his rotten personality'. If only they knew ... one should not fully mend his faith in him. The thrill was not wholly one of fear. With faintest smirk manifests in grace simultaneous reaction to coyness.

'Want me to plead for an answer? Or just want me to ask nicely?

Such question challenged the poetic cantor in his own tune.

With drop of concern, his eyes would rest on the intruder with serenading recollection to allow other senses rise with another bold remark and reckless gesture but that's just him. " Carefully, such words might play into your disfavor, '' in responsiveness his voice scarcely low, daintily perceiving the immediacy of ingenuity to effective details, '' as much as I hate to say that, both options, in fact, sound quite appealing ... "

Layers of so seemingly harmonious patterns stirring gales from the most profound depths of one's being reveals themselves as intense to be gripped fully and meaningfully. Slowly, with utmost care & never all haste but cautiously, hand rises up. Closer and closer to his face in enticingly tender, almost ghostly brush. Halting in tracks and only pausing himself when the other spoke. Touching him, felt like touching a living sculpture cut from marble. Next - a stain of fresh crimson (* he almost forgot they stood in woodland desolation and he was injured ) trailing along, painting a small rivulet behind his thumb sliding all the way down across Shinigami's cheekbone and lip-corner. He had no intention to oblige his request; not unless he felt like doing so in his own fashion.

Gild, black tide unbroken by ragged breaths engulfed them like a spiral of a lustrous silk veil.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤCan you feel it?

The energy of Curse User was nothing pleasant but pure darkness and negative emotions combined, in spite of that such invocation by hands of skilled user could produce something additional and unexpecting in arts of manipulativeness. Symmetrical ache that lifts in forth pressing pressure and circulating synchrony, tightening to a feverish nearly ecstatic, devouring degree ... ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤCan you feel my answer?

But it all would fade with brisk removal of his hand in next few seconds for another echo approximating behind his back was getting stronger.

---

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ'-ensei!'

Nobara's and Pandas's call. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ'Sensei!'

' All good here ... these creatures are dead. ' Thanks to our new friend.

ㅤㅤ

#trehontin #Muse: Geto #* AIZEN : to be graced with complete truthfulness while telling carefully constructed lies / sweetest poison came with HYPNOSIS.#VERSE (𝐈𝐕.) : ⑆ㅤㅤㅤsecrets of spilled ink / opium and blackberries.#{ His duality is showing *throws hands @ myself as I check this* What is control again?? Yee this turned to be hybridous-semi drabble. <3 }#{ But we know exactly what makes your interest special Geto; you're just choking it deeply inside w. stress / raging phero(hor)mones. }#suggestive ;#suggestive thoughts ;#{ ALSO Geto plz stop messing with him you are already in troubles. }#反応‚ㅤ╱ 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 reacted.

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mydarlinginej · 2 years

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read my full review of seoulmates by susan lee here.

The last person Hannah wants to see is her former best friend, Jacob. Until blackmail and a bucket list, along with two meddling mamas, push them together for a summer worthy of a K-drama…

Hannah Cho had the next year all planned out—the perfect summer with her boyfriend, Nate, and then a fun senior year with all of their friends.

But then Nate does what everyone else in Hannah’s life seems to do—he leaves her, claiming they have nothing in common. He and all her friends are newly obsessed with K-pop and K-dramas, and Hannah is not. After years of trying to embrace the American part and shunning the Korean side of her Korean American identity to fit in, Hannah finds that’s exactly what now has her on the outs.

But someone who does know K-dramas—so well that he’s actually starring in one—is Jacob Kim, Hannah’s former best friend, whom she hasn’t seen in years. He’s desperate for a break from the fame and someone to trust, so a family trip back to San Diego might be just what he needs…that is, if he and Hannah can figure out what went wrong when they last parted and navigate the new feelings developing between them.

my review:

Ever since I heard about this book, I was so hyped for it. I’m not a huge friends-to-lovers fan but I’ve read a few estranged-childhood-friends-to-lovers books that I really enjoyed recently, so I decided to give this one a try! Seoulmates told the story of two estranged childhood best friends reuniting and finding their identities in a world that’s always told them what to be.

Hannah has spent her entire life shunning her Korean side to fit in with her American classmates. Now that K-pop and K-dramas are all the rage, she feels left out, especially when her boyfriend essentially breaks up with her because she doesn’t know anything about them. Someone who might be able to help her is her estranged best friend, Jacob. In the three years since she’s seen him, Jacob has become one of the most popular drama stars in Korea. He’s grown tired of the demanding schedule and the impact that’s had on his social life. When his family comes to stay with hers for the summer, he enlists Hannah in helping him have fun while in San Diego, bringing the two of them closer together and mending the break in their relationship from three years ago.

I thought the protagonists’ character arcs were interesting! Her entire life, Hannah has rejected so much of the Korean side of her Korean-American identity; this wasn’t something I really related to but can understand in concept. She wanted to fit in with her white American classmates, and now that they’re all fascinated by her culture, she doesn’t get it. However, this doesn’t mean that they get to judge her Korean-ness just because they know a little about the culture from dramas. Over time, Hannah grows to learn that how she identifies with her culture is enough and that she doesn’t have to compartmentalize a part of herself to fit in.

read my full review here.

#seoulmates #susan lee #reviews #book reviews #booklr #mine #link #q

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ohmysparkle · 3 years

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🎀 Plush Baby 🎀

[Pairing] Minho (Stray Kids) x chubby Reader

[Genre] Smut

[Word Count] 4.4K

[Warnings] NSFW, smut, body insecurities

[NSFW Content] Vanilla sex, raw sex, soft soft soft (male) domination, PIV, oral (fem. receiving), body worship.

[Note] This piece was originally posted on my old account as a request. It has been edited and rewritten.

Also, I like my girls how I like my cats: soft, purring, jiggly. Just sleeping all day, occasionally meowing, being cute.

[Edit - Note 2] I remember the original request asking for a chubby reader, and my reply was that I hoped that all of my writing as inclusive enough that any reader could feel themselves represented in that scenario. I know we all have drastically different physical characteristics - but we are all beautiful. The tiny, fit little waist on one girl is as beautiful and sensual as the soft, plush and pillowy belly of another. We can all be recognized as beautiful and sexy and desired - and we should feel that way. But I wrote (and rewrote) this request with extra care because I wanted to shower some love on all chubby, full figured, plus, fat, curvy readers and I hope I do some justice to your beautiful bodies. 💕

🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀 🎀

You’re laying on his bed, in nothing but a set of plain undies. The white panties are so thin he feels he can almost make out the delicate folds that decorate your vulva, and if you only spread them a little further he’d be so proud if he saw a little wet and sticky stain on them, making them stick to your skin. Your hands are gripping each other, as you try to sink yourself onto the bed, somehow shielding yourself in your shyness, but all it does is force your arms to push your breasts together. He sighs in delight as he takes in your body, every curve, every soft fold and pocket of flesh, every supple crest.

A soft and warm, plush goddess before his eyes, on his bed, just at his fingertips…

He’s been dreaming of the day he’d be able to see you like this, and he’s been coaxing you day by day; making sure you’re comfortable with him, letting you know he thinks you’re beautiful, assuring you that any intimacy with him would be about your pleasure and his efforts to lay all his love on you.

His kisses were always more than just kisses, he’d do everything to reassure you, let you know how he felt. Every profession of how beautiful he found you was deep and genuine - and sometimes he felt like he was healing a precious little wounded animal that had been scarred by the cruel words of past lovers.

You’ve been shy, and insecure. He understands, but it breaks his heart a little because he just wants you to bask in confidence and find yourself as beautiful as he does. If only you could see yourself with his eyes, he thinks…

If only you could understand the desire he feels… from the moment he saw you. Your cute rounded cheeks, expressive and squishy. The beautiful way your thighs would move as you walked, his eyes traveling up whatever skirt you wore, thinking about the plush and bouncy bum underneath. How your breasts spilled so beautiful when you moved around, especially when you lay on your back and your cleavage would become so accentuated in any top you wore. The softness at your waist, supple and warm… he couldn’t resist pinching at a little pocket of fat in your back or your hip whenever he hugged you, despite you hating it at first, thinking he was teasing you.

But he wasn’t… he wouldn’t tease you in that way. He’s only tease you in a loving and playful manner. If only you could understand how pretty you were in his eyes.

It has taken time, for him to chip away at your walls. Sometimes he got carried away in you, wanting to use all of his tricks to have you wet and weakened to his whim, because the thought of touching, kissing, fucking you was too much. He’d impatiently shiver at the thought alone.

But it wasn’t just about what he wanted - because he wouldn’t want it if you didn’t, and he wouldn’t enjoy it unless you did twice as much. He could see something, hesitation, or fear perhaps, always lingering behind your eyes. He knows how you sometimes shielded those insecurities with smiles, but your body would freeze and tense…

So many things you needed time to heal. Every glance from a stranger toward him and you would have you second guessing, or when a girl would try to flirt with him you’d be completely dejected. And he’s kiss it all away, drown your thoughts out with soft words. Again and again, no matter how many times. It would tire anyone out.

He’s been so patient, he’s always patient for you. Gladly, happily patient. He knows when to let you take the lead and set the pace, or when you need him to encourage you and guide you. And now, to finally have you here on his bed, body laying beneath his… well, the months long effort has borne fruits.

He sits beside you, looking down at you, lost in admiration. He’s eating you up with his eyes, staring down at every curve and dip along your body. You don’t know if it’s good or bad, and your hands are bunched up, tense against your chest as your chin rests over them. He worries you’re feeling doubtful, but for a moment his eyes are lost in your figure and he doesn’t notice. From some angles, his eyes seem so sharp and intimidating, but the feeling in them is tender and comforting, just like the look of worry he casts you once he notices your tension.

Minho gently takes your hands in his, separating their tight grip and kiss omg the knuckles on each one before guiding each area to rest at your side.

“Just relax, baby girl…” he hushes. His voice… you feel it make you shiver, running deep within you. It’s deep, soothing, almost like a purr - but he’s so much less harmless than those kitties he loves… It’s a mix between being stalked by a predator, making you feel small and fearful, and being comforted and lulled by a strong presence that blankets you.

You try relax, and tense little huffs of breath leave you. He knows you’re having a hard time so he decides to reassure you one last time before asking if you want to continue.

“Baby girl…” he whispers after leaning closer to you, clicking his tongue, the tip of his nose almost brushing your temple, “you’re beautiful, I adore you, and I think everything about you is beautiful. I’m going to treat you like a princess and I promise I’ll make you feel good, but we won’t do that if you’re not comfortable first, ok?”

You gulp and nod, and the next deep breath you take does dissolve tension a bit. Your mind is made up, you’re absolutely sure, but still you feel the slightest bit afraid to say so… Minho is so, so, perfect, and protective and doting. You logically know he won’t do anything wrong, that he’d never hurt you - so why are you so terrified of all of this?

“I want to. Just… slowly, ok?” You finally say, and he smiles at you with pride - pride in you for being comfortable with the prospect of intimacy, and your trust in him. Pride in himself knowing he’s made you comfortable… it makes you smile too.

Minho begins as he had always dreamed of doing with you. His fingers dance with anticipation before he dares dip them against your flesh. He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead before commencing to roam his hands all over your body.

He gently grips the flesh of your thighs and hips, while leaning down to kiss the tops of your breasts as the spill out from the cups of your bra. You begin to sigh and sink in relaxation. He lets his palms lightly glide over the skin, feeling so soft and powdery, your hairs there velvety, peach-like…

“So beautiful baby, so soft, you feel perfect…” he says with a pinching squeeze of the mound of flesh at your waist that pokes out from the waistband of your underwear. It makes you whine a little bit he rubs it with the heat in his palm to soothe the sting. It’s with these little pains, the pinches, the digging of his fingers into your mounds of plumpness, and then the soft massages and tender touches, that he gets you to melt.

Your legs seem to naturally spread for him, and now his free hand roams between the softness of your inner thighs. Now, that by far, was the tenderest thing he had ever touched, and to think he’d soon be burying himself within them… He kneads them, enjoying the jiggly feeling of them in his hands and how perfectly his finger dug into the almost powdery flesh. So, so soft. Handfuls of supple, warm and jiggly fat for him to feel and play with. He looks at how he moves your flesh about, how voluptuous and sensual it all looks…

You deserve a kiss there, he thinks. You can’t deny that he’s relaxed you to such a point that your body melds in accordance to his manipulation. Your legs spread and he grunts a bit at the warmth that radiates off of you and the slight scent of your arousal through your panties. He digs his face into one of your thighs, nudging it, until he latches his lips on to a particularly soft nook of flesh and sucks. The hiss that leaves you makes his cock twitch, and he’s in awe at how well your thigh mends against his mouth as he sucks, and how sweet your skin tastes when he runs his tongue over it.

How is it possible that this plush, voluptuous angel belongs to him? He is drunk on the kisses and sucks and licks that he gives to that one thigh, and when you begin to shake him off one leg, he moves on to the other. He wants to keep kissing, but he also just wants to melt into you, your pillowy figure being too perfect for him.

At some point, his hands begin to travel back upwards, and he hooks his fingers under your high waisted underwear to slip them down to your hips, leaving your cunt clothed but exposing your tummy. Minho begins to grope at the flesh there, massaging and munching it together, pressing his hands into every inch of your skin, and he’s looking down at you.

It’s ticklish, or maybe you feel it tickles because you’re nervous, or because that’s a part of yourself you’ve always thought should be covered or avoided, left completely unacknowledged despite its exposure. Yet Minho… his eyes, the way he touched you; it all showed genuine love and arousal.

You had feared this moment for so long, but you didn’t feel scared now. Not with the way he was looking at you and touching you, not with the way he was making you feel; beautiful, sexy, attractive. It’s what you were, and he felt that way too. He grabs at your waist, digging his hands roughly into the mounds in your abdomen and he presses his entire body against you. Slowly, Minho leans down for a kiss to your pretty lips as he grinds against one of your thighs.

“My sweet girl… please tell me you want us to keep going… please.” He begs.

“Yes.” Is all you can reply after rewarding his mouth with your whimpers.

Minho leans back on his thighs as he tore his shirt off, providing you with the sight of his defined torso. Chiseled, sharp, masculine - not a line of softness in him. The two of you are exact opposites and it makes it all the better for how your two figures complement the touch and feeling of the other. He dives back in, kissing along your soft belly, up towards your bra and between your breast, until finally he’s back at your mouth. His body lays on you, and while you feel firm and detailed flesh, he relishes in the plushness of your body and how it seems to embrace him. He rubs his own pecs over the lace of your bra, stimulating his pretty brown nipples, and he groans into your mouth. Your response is to roll your hips upward, against the erection that’s growing inside of his sweatpants.

“Minho, I want you - anything, I can’t wait anymore…” you plead while pushing him off. You begin to take your bra off, and he removes his pants and briefs in one go, revealing his hardening cock under a tuft of trimmed dark hair. You’re desperate now, and confident too, and you lay back to peel your own underwear off.

Fuck, the way you cunt is nestled between your plump thighs and soft abdomen, your lips peaking from your protruding vulva. His mouth is watering, and despite his reservations about being gentle and not startling you, he’s quick to grab your ankles and press your legs apart so he can burry is face in your pussy. He doesn’t have an ounce of control left because the sight of you has made him but a stupid animal.

He presses a firm kiss to your musky and moistened lips, inhaling sharply at that scent he’s sure would drive any man to the point of insanity. They’re just slightly tacky and they stick to his lips in the most pleasant way until the fluids of your arousal start to spread about and mix with his saliva, making everything glide more easily. He’s moaning and grunting against you and it makes you feel so aroused that you feel yourself pulsating within. He licks your lips, lathering them up with his saliva, he sucks at your clit.

Long strokes of his tongue run over your labia, his hands massage the outer sides of your vulva too, until he uses them to slightly spread your pussy, so his tongue more easily glides between your lips. The workings of his hand, massaging you around your vulva leaves you in awe to how sensitive every part of you was - something you likely wouldn’t have discovered without an expert and generous lover like Minho.

And then it all centers at the little sucks and nibs to your lips that tease you, and the way he stimulates your clitoris with his muscle to make your entire body jolt.

A finger expertly slips its way inside, and he keeps his hand facing downward, so the underside of his finger stimulates a different part of your walls that you wouldn’t even think of touching on your own. He twists them about, letting the little joints in his fingers circle every part of your cunt, exploring and pleasing everything. He begins to finger you with determination and it’s just not enough. You need more. Still, his mouth on your mound feels so good, and he tears away to slobber all over your vulva and leave your lips soaked and glistening. You can feel his drool dripping between your thighs and down your slit toward your ass.. Never had a man done this to you like this, and Minho had no restraint, he was proudly pleasing you with his mouth, devouring you like an animal, shamelessly soiling you with a mix of your fluids and his own spit.

“Minho!” You whine, and he knows what it means. Fuck, he nearly wants to bite into you until your screaming and squirting…

He pulls you by your hips and raises your thighs back, so that the lower part of you cunt is slightly more exposed. With his palms supporting your thighs, his thumbs inch toward your labia to spread you open. You hold your legs up by your ankles to make it easier for him, but you almost kick them away when you feel his tongue prod at your hole.

He presses his face harder and harder against your fleshy cunt, making sure his tongue gets in as deep as possible. He finds you’re full of slick and thick nectar that tastes heavenly and filthy on his tongue, and he juggles the muscle in his mouth as best as he can within your hole. You whine and cry and clench but it’s not far enough inside, not even with his finger rubbing at your clit so fiercely.

If only he could go deeper. This isn’t enough for him either.

“I need to be in you now doll, please.” He was getting ready, expecting your answer to be a yes.

“Damn it - yes!” You whine, feeling desperate all over with a sensation you couldn’t shake that you felt made you churn with uneasiness. You needed him to fill you, and it was causing near hysteria.

Minho doesn’t care about delicacy now. He slips his cock in and slams it. You’re wet enough, horny enough, and damn it but your swollen and wet pussy looks so damn fuckable that he knows its aching for his cock. You cry in agony and ecstasy, it stings and burns at a certain point where his fingers did not reach you before, but it also feels so fucking good because his fat and solid cock hits the right spots inside of you in the first thrust.

“Fuck…” you cry, trying to force your thighs together in discomfort. He hushes you and lowers himself to your face, resting his weight on his elbows and resting his abdomen against your supple tummy, his hips force your legs open still.

“Sorry, my baby girl,” he says kissing your face, panting in his own despair, “I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to… I wasn’t thinking…” as he whines your arms wrap around him and your legs begin to hook onto his. You feel like your melting against him and he against you, and it causes you to roll your hips back and forth against his, slowly, and with your bodies firmly pressed together.

You’d make it seem like it hurt even more just to have him dote on you and treat you so preciously. It made something inside of you swoon to think that you’re almost delicate in his embrace, how the very thing that brings you pleasure can also hurt because the entire act is so vulnerating.

You whine at the feeling, and he takes the cue to roll against you. You feel his pelvis rub against your clit, his bush tickling at your bare cunt. The stroke and glide of him inside of your sends shivers throughout you, and you can feel him making contact with every ridge and grove of your wet cavern. Still, a little stretch lingers because that massive cock of his is incomparable to anything that’s been inside of you before.

The pain is good, it makes everything sharper. It’s like the little sting of a blade, and the pleasure like a stream of water to soothe it. You’re drunk in it, completely overwhelmed and mindless. The only thing tethering you to the earth itself is the feeling of his body in your arms, you clinging to him, and him clinging onto you.

He’s kissing all over your face, and when he needs to catch his breath he rests his forehead against yours. Your grasping desperately to scratch his back, shoulders and biceps, and finally you pull at his hair.

You feel the need for more of him, more harshly, you whine more desperately and you tense after each breath, he can tell. He pulls back, tearing your hands from his scalp and he pulls out of you, making you twitch and clench at the emptiness he’s suddenly left behind and you audibly weep at the sensation.

“Minho!” You cry as you raise yourself on your arms to see him glistening with sweat, and his proud cock drenched with globs of your fluids.

“Not yet, baby girl… Let me, just relax.” Trust me, he seems to say.

You’re whining and pressing your legs together but he tears them open by the knees and blows against your clit. It felt awful, driving your desperation further, making you want more and more, which he was cruelly denying you. You want to cry, it seems like the only outlet for such an onslaught of unnamable emotions.

The sight of a tear trailing down your damp and pretty face is enough to make him coo… his sensitive, pretty girl, so precious…

“I want to fuck you another way now, baby, it’ll be so good…” He growls, voice deep, but still desperate, still seeking permission. You know you’ll say yes. “Get on all fours, doll.”

You obey, shyly. His strong arms don’t leave you, guiding you, making sure you are in the right position. It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable, and you can feel him prowling behind you, but his warmth still comforts and envelops you. You arch your back as best as you can to look good and he appreciates it - a lot.

He grabs each cheek of your ass, groping the flesh to expose your sopping cunt. He groans at the sight, like an animal. Your wet and slick with sweat all over, glistening for him, letting his hands slide all over your ass and back. With a quick smack to your ass he alerts you, You yelp. And once more, the sting is soothed by a kiss, a tender hand kneading that spot he just abused.

He travels up your spine, his body brushing against yours, and you can feel his hands at your shoulders, his breath on your neck. With a soft kiss, he presses you down and soon he pushes you onto the mattress, your hips still held up by your legs.

You can feel him groping you all over, leaving searing and wet kisses along your spine. You’re desperate and your hips wiggle in desperation.

“Minho….”

“Not long now, baby doll. I promise.” He says tenderly.

He keeps one hand at your hip as he pumps himself, and guides his head back between your folds, whimpering loudly, so unlike how he has kept his demeanor. How is it possible for such a sensation to exist? That perfect moment where your soft lips suck the head of his cock and guide them into your tightening walls, so wet and comforting, stimulating every inch of him.

He can’t help himself, again, lost in you. He begins to buck his hips, slapping the skin of your ass with his pelvis each time, making you cry into the mattress. You soon feel him still and he reaches down to bunch up your hair and pulls you back, snapping his hips into you once more.

His touches are so forceful, the veins and muscles in his arms tightening as he manhandles you. But it’s the languid kisses that let you know that the baseline of it all is render, and again, they wash away and pain, any sting.

The discomfort makes your desperation grow, the restlessness makes the sensation of his cock ever better within your sensitive cunt. The harshness mixed with the tenderness is perfect, and you feel like you want more of it.

He pulls you back all the way so your back is pressed against his, chest both of you sitting and supporting your bodies on your legs. Your head is angled back so your neck is exposed to him as he thrusts up into you, and his eyes wander to your bouncing breasts. He fucks you harder so the bounce and jiggle of your tits becomes even more erratic, and he doesn’t know where his hands should stay.

He slaps his hand against one of them, pinching your nipple - it makes you scream in pleasure. The other digs into your tummy, scratching at the soft skin there, latching onto any mound he can find.

It doesn’t take long now. You cum, and it’s lasts a while as he keeps going inside of you, he fucks into you until his own orgasm arrives, and draws your pleasure out until the point that your walls spasm around him again, trapping his cock against your leaking orifice. He wraps his arms around you and you lean against him, head thrown back to lean on his shoulder and he buries his face in your neck. You stay there, with only the heaving of your breaths moving your bodies as you both recuperate from the highs.

Slowly, he roams his hands all over your front, soothing you and giving reassuring squeezes, everywhere - your thighs, tummy, breasts, sides, waist. He is all over your body.

Minho slightly moves to guide you both to lay in your sides but the lightest pull of his cock makes you hiss in sensitivity. He tenses at the noise, and is all the more gentle as he lays you both down.

He kisses your shoulder, brushes your hair back with his fingers, while his other arm still circles beneath your soft waist.

“Perfect…” he hums into your ear, and you can’t help but break a smile because you know he’s referring to you.

You’re both filthy, sweaty, dirty, but it’s perfect. He pulls a blanket from his side to cover the two of you, as he pets you, and occasionally lets out a giddy giggle.

“What’s funny?” you question once you feel like you’ve returned to your body.

“Nothing!” He giggles again. “I’m just happy?”

“Hmm…” You hum contently.

“I’m happy you’re happy, I’m happy we made each other happy.” He adds while lightly rocking you, sighing against your body and how perfect it feels to rest against you and your warmth.

“You do make me very happy.” you quietly confess, and it’s such a simple but deep statement.

Minho blushes and buries himself against you, quite proud of himself himself, satisfied by the work he’s done with your body, and kisses you mindlessly… until he falls asleep thinking of all the ways he can keep making you happy.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know #lee know smut #stray kids minho smut #minho smut

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

Demigod MC Series: Poseidon

Fishy fishy fishy… I honestly could write 100 more things for Poseidon MC and Levi. I just love the dynamic between an insecure, otaku shut-in and a chill California surfer dead set on becoming his friend.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon

For anyone unaware, Poseidon is also the god of horses. I know it's a weird combo, but I didn't write the mythos.

Lucifer

…..

They came out of the portal….

On a horse….

They brought the mortal down to the Devildom…

On a goddamn horse….

There's a demigod on a live horse brandishing a weapon and doing laps around the Student Council Room…

Congratulations, he already wants to pull his hair out!!

Honestly, it would have been preferable to pluck them out of the sea. At least then they'd just need a towel! What the hell were they going to do with an entire horse!?

And his nightmare didn't stop there. Poseidon is a notoriously mercurial god, prone to bouts of anger and spitefulness for reasons far less grievous than kidnapping his children…

Their apology was swift and (seemingly) effective, though the tide waters around the Devildom did rise by several feet for some time…

As for the MC… uh… Well, they're an energetic one to say the least…

Lucifer hasn't met a more active individual since Mammon. They horseback ride, swim, surf, skateboard, and probably do ten other things - the point is, they Hardly. Keep. Still!

They're also annoyingly easygoing… He can't count the number of times they've told him to, "Just chill out," or, "Hang loose…" What does that even mean??

Between having to order a stable made for their horse and just trying to keep up with them, Lucifer already thinks this mortal has caused him more trouble than they're worth… At least they keep Mammon busy...

Mammon

Upon first meeting them atop their horse, Sunset, his first thought was of course:

"I wonder if I sell that...?"

After that, they nearly fed him to sharks for trying to take their beloved steed on same night. Safe to say, he never touched a hair on its head again…

These two had a rocky start, but their relationship mended fairly quickly. As it turns out, the MC is literally one of those "go with the flow" types. You can say it was water under the bridge soon enough.

Mammon actually thinks the MC is a hell of a lot of fun, even if they're super laid-back. Most of the time, they won’t take his drive for money (or fear of his bills) all that seriously and tell him that he’s worrying too much, but they’ll still lend a hand if its on their way.

He finds their ability to control water pretty cool as well. Levi has it to some extent, but the MC can make a whole-ass whirlpool or use water like a whip!

He once begged them to call up some rare fish for him to sell, but they got all pseudo-philosophical on him about how “trading life for material wealth” is “not cool, dude...”

He also made the mistake of challenging them to a splash fight only once…. They managed to drench the whole family with a single wave….

The only thing that bothers him is their weird insistence on being Levi's "Best Buddy…" Why would someone like them even bother with a shut in??

Is it the water? … Probably water. Levi, that lucky bastard…

Leviathan

Thinks they're a big normie, no scratch that, a HUGE normie! The biggest normie he's ever met!! They skateboard and horseback ride for Devil's sake!!

...But they’re also, undoubtedly, the best friend he could've ever asked for.

To be fair to Levi, their friendship was sort of forced upon him. The MC took one look at him, his aquatic-themed room, and his pet goldfish then declared their new friendship status at that moment.

Unfortunately for him, though, they're energetic, extroverted, and generally have little understanding of personal space… aka, an introvert's worst nightmare…

The next month could accurately be described as the MC doing everything in their power to make their stubborn "senpai" like them.

They would drag him out to the aquarium, beach, or pool; they befriended Henry so he could put in a good word for them; and they'd even bring him little gifts or trinkets they'd find on the ocean floor. Pretty shells and stuff like a cat bringing its master a dead mouse.

After he finally began to accept them as a persistent fixture in his life, he introduced them to gaming and anime and started accepting them little by little...

By the end of their stay, these two were practically inseparable. Not just because they like spending time together, but because they figured out they could have a telepathic link due to Levi being part sea serpent.

No matter how far they are, they can always have a chat! (That no one else can hear so people think they’re just crazy...)

Satan

Satan honestly isn't the MC's biggest fan, he generally finds them too loud and gregarious for his liking. But their horse…?

He never really thought that he'd be a horse man... Yet it didn’t really take long for Satan to adore Sunset, their beautiful golden-maned mare. Apparently she's not their only horse, but by far their favorite traveling companion.

Sunset is a wonderful horse - brave, strong, and well-trained. It only took a few weeks before he was regularly sneaking out to the stables to brush her fur or feed her apples...

After the MC taught him how to ride, that was it. All other forms of transportation were inferior to him now.

Satan would ride Sunset everywhere and he looked damn good doing it! It takes all that fairytale Prince Charming thing he has going on and puts it through the roof.

It's a good thing too, because when I say everywhere, I do mean everywhere. Lucifer had to put seals on the House doors to keep Satan from riding Sunset through the hallways...

Of course, he’ll always let the MC have Sunset back when they need her!... with a little complaining but nothing terrible.

The MC doesn't mind much because Sunset likes him and they know he takes good care of her, but the rest of the House is slightly unnerved at how quickly he went horse crazy… What if they brought a giant crab instead?? No one wants to deal with crab-Satan...

Asmodeus

Their body is just scrumptious. Oh, how he could look at their swimsuit-clad figure all day!! 😩

Between the swimming and the fighting, their form is toned to all hell and he can't get enough of it! Yes baby, yes!! Take those clothes off again!!! He'll help~! 😘

When he's not staring at them “totally respectfully,” then he's inviting them out to pool parties or begging them to take him riding...

There are parts of horseback riding he doesn’t like, the smell and the jostling specifically, but there is a kind of… romance to it, no?

He loves having the chance to snuggle up to the MC as they trot around the Devildom! It's so romantic, like they’re his knight in shining armor! (Or his demigod in a damp swimsuit, either works. 😏)

His Devilgram is just full of selfies of him and MC riding on the back of Sunset or sitting by the edge of the pool or them in the middle of a swim meet…

Yeah his Devilgram is now a one part him and one part MC-Appreciation account.

After the pact he'll eventually cool down some and stop staring at them like a sex-object, but even then he'll be at every swim meet. Don't you worry~

Beelzebub

He actually really likes them! It's great to finally have another athlete in the House. 😊

The MC joined the RAD swim team just as soon the coach was able to convince Diavolo that having the child of a water god wasn't completely cheating...

Since swim and fangol practice ends at about the same time, they walk home together a lot and complain about... sports things... (Forgive me, I don’t know sports. Uhm... Rival teams? Coaches? That one drill everyone hates? Stuff like that.)

Beel also can surf, skate, and snowboard so the two have a healthy competition going. They're about on equal footing so they tie often (except in surfing but Beel doesn't think that should count cause they’re probably cheating).

The only thing that he has to watch out for is Sunset… As in, he has to watch himself around Sunset because he absolutely could eat her on accident…

Look, he doesn't want to and he doesn't even like horse meat that much, but even he has to admit there are times he gets hungry enough to consider it…

Of course, he knows that if he ever did Satan would rip him limb from limb then the MC would drown the rest so he really, really tries to control himself… but still… She’s a very healthy horse...

At least he didn’t try to sell her like Mammon. The MC hung him over a shark tank for that stunt… He’d feel bad, but Mammon kind of had it coming.

Belphegor

The first time they met, the MC smelled like beach water and called him "dude-bro…" He didn't like his prospects.

For a while, he genuinely thought that they had a lump of sand where their brain was. They were just too chill!! Here he was saying that he's being held captive and they were like, "Well that sucks, man… I'll help ya, but I've got practice tomorrow. You can wait, right?"

It's not like he expected them to jump on top of it, but some urgency would have been nice…

When they eventually got around to helping him, he was actually looking forward to choking the life out of them for the extra wait. Unfortunately, they apparently had a horse…

Yeah, Belphie found out just a bit too late that the MC could summon their steed to them whenever they wanted and ended up with Sunset's hooves firmly bucking into his back for his trouble…

What followed was Belphegor running circles around the attic from the weapon-totting MC riding their terrifying murder horse until Lucifer finally intervened....

Thank the gods he wasn’t near any water….

As it would turn out later, as long as he's not being held captive in an attic Belphie kind of vibes with their laid-backness… They say they approach life "one wave at a time" or something.

He could care less about what that actually means, but what it translates to is "Stop stressing out and just keep chill" which he's all about.

Everybody should just chill out!... dude…. Nah, he'll let them stick to the “dude”-thing, it feels weird...

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods

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joansiefics · 3 years

Note

Hi! Can you please write prompts 24 and 29 (from the fluff section) with best friend Bucky please? The reader shows up at his apartment even though they canceled their plans together, but he ends up being glad that she came because they have such a cozy and enjoyable time. And maybe a bit of ✨feelings✨ work their way into the air as well. Thanks!

Perceptible-To-a-Super Soldier's Ears

BUCKY BARNES X READER

Prompt 24- “It’s pouring rain, why are you here?”

Prompt 29 - “Thank you for staying with me”

SUMMARY: Bucky cancels your traditional Saturday night plans after a terrible mission and you decide to surprise him at his doorstep.

WARNINGS: Mentions of Death and Killing

A/N: hey, I hope everyone is doing well!!! I'm sorry it took so long to write this (at least I'm back to writing requests in a week from getting them) I hope this is what you had in mind and that you are satisfied.

MARVEL MASTERLIST || PROMPT LIST

REQUESTS are OPEN - I absolutely love it when I receive requests

Add yourself to my TAGLIST

When you were just a six years old girl, your innocence was exchanged for the horrible guilt of each killing HYDRA had forced upon you. And years later the vivid images of each life you ended - the victims' pleading faces, their eyes entrances to their bleeding souls in comparison to their pulped lips, the blood drizzling down their chin. Every little detail still imprinted into your memory, haunting you in your sleep.

When Steve first introduced you to the team, you were a shy, distrustful sixteen year old, talking only when necessary, hiding behind Steve when someone else entered a room or busy yourself in work to ignore the presence of others. With little to no talking and barely making yourself known, everyone still took a liking to you rather quickly, especially one ex-HYDRA-assassin. The Winter Soldier. James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes.

The small lopsided smiles he exchanged with you from across the room, the quiet "good morning's" handed to you on a breakfast plate when he dishes up his plate from behind you, the silent conversations spoken between empathetic eyes and the first night he helped you calm down from a nightmare. These were all contributions leading up to the best friendship you never thought you'd find.

The night he calmed you down from your nightmare, he suggested a movie night - junk food, cuddling, talking and the best movies ever. And from that night on, it became tradition. After a long week's work you would hang out at each other's apartments, watch a movie, eat junk food, cuddle and talk about what there's to talk about. This continued for about two years and plans rarely got canceled, unless it was utterly necessary.

It was nearing the evening and you were searching for some clothes to put on before Bucky came over, when you got the phone call. "Hey Y/N" your heart contracted and relaxed hard against your ribcage at the sound of his voice. 'control yourself Y/N, it's just Bucky!!!' you steadied your breathing in hopes to calm your perceptible-to-a-super soldier's ears heartbeat before your voice traveled through the telephone line. "Hey, how was the mission?" you ask, putting on your last shoe. "That's why I called" you froze at his words, your heart rate accelerating at the thought of something going wrong on the mission. "What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Was it-" "Y/N" Bucky called for your attention "I'm okay" he let out a small chuckle at your concern, but then the line got dead silent.

You could hear your heart tearing a bit further with every few words spoken. "I know we would have hung out at your apartment tonight and all, but after today's mission I just need a break and I'm really tired and I don't want to get ready to leave my apartment now... So I was wondering if we could maybe continue our tradition next week?" "It's okay Bucky, I understand. I want you to sleep and get comfortable after your hard work. There will be many more Saturday nights for movie nights." you assured him. "You sure?" you don't miss the lingering sadness in his voice and the throat clearing as disguise for a small sob. "100% sure" "Thank you so much for understanding Y/N, it means a lot to me" "no problem...NOW GO LIE DOWN!!" you cover your strictness with an ending laugh, but your heart is shattered into uncountable pieces - 'I'm not seeing him tonight, just another week...maybe I can go check up on him tomorrow?' "Yes mother... bye Y/N" "Bye Bucky" and then you hang up.

'The mission must have been terrible, why else would he cancel?' Then it streaks you - 'it was a HYDRA mission... he probably relived so many memories. He needs support through this time. That's why he sounded so sad to cancel!!' when you force your thoughts to stop and not make conclusions or bad assumptions you notice that you've already picked up your car keys and were halfway through the door.

------

In the car you push the key into the ignition and force the key right. Before you depart though you see the fuel gauge alerting you that your vehicle does not contain enough fuel for your trip to Bucky. "Damn it!" you hit the steering wheel, before yanking your door back open and storming out. 'Guess I'll have to walk then' you start your trip to the pizza place to pick up the usual pizza order. As you walk you can hear the thunder rolling in, hoping that you'll be snuggled next to Bucky when the storm starts and not be unfortunate enough to get caught in it.

------

"Thank you" you thank the lady handing you the pizza boxes and head out the door to your next stop - the small convenience store for some more snacks. The clouds were joining together fast, accompanying the howling wind and coloring the sky a dark grey. You wore goosebumps on your sleeves and let the wind blow your hair into different directions. 'Please don't start to rain before I get to Bucky'

------

While you chose out the snacks you could hear the faint dripping of the cloud's tears coming in contact with the roof and tar road. The smell of petrichor wafts through the air and twirls into your nose. For a moment you relax at the earthy smell, but then you remember "Bucky needs all the support he can get in this time' and you hurry to the cashier with the basket full of refreshments.

When you exit the convenience store it is pouring rain. 'Great, just great' you sigh and zip down your jacket to protect most of the food from getting wet. You run from one underroof location to the next, preventing being soaked to the bone, but the last underroof hiding to Bucky's apartment is quite the distance and you prepare yourself for the shower.

------

*knock, knock, knock*

Bucky opens the door, only to find you drenched on his doorstep. Bucky takes a quick glance outside his door to the wet outside world. "It's pouring rain, why are you here?" you don't know if you should take his words as an offense or as words of concern, but you go with the former. "I know you didn't wanna hang out, but then it struck me that it was a HYDRA mission and then you sounded so defeated over the phone, so I thought you might want some comfort or some food or both... and now that I think about it, it was stupid to come here in the first place, I mean after you told me that you wanted some rest and sleep and now I'm talking to much," you immediately stop your rambling when you see Bucky's face contort into one of adoration. "I think you read the situation right doll... why don't you come in and I can find you something dry and comfortable to wear?" he asks, already ushering you into his apartment.

"Why didn't you take the car?" Bucky yells over his shoulder as he searches through his closet for something you can wear. "I wanted to, but when I started the car I saw that I wouldn't have enough fuel to make it to here, sooo...." Bucky throws you a shirt and some sweatpants and you thank him before making your way to the bathroom to get changed.

"Which movie do you want to watch?!" Bucky asks through the bathroom door, pressing his ear against the wood, even though he could have heard you from anywhere with his super soldier hearing. "We don't have to watch a movie if you don't want to!" you yell back, silently giving Bucky the opportunity to decide what he wants to do after the heart breaking mission. "No, I want to... I mean you didn't get soaked for nothing" his laugh mends your broken heart. "Then you can pick the movie!" "Okay doll!"

------

When you're finished getting dressed you make your way to the living room, where you find Bucky huddled up in blankets, between the pizza boxes and snacks, with the movie ready to start. You make yourself comfortable next to him and snuggle into his chest. 'remember this is all about Bucky, make him feel special, he shouldn't make me feel special' "Do you want to talk about the mission before we start the movie?" you politely ask, worried for your friend's mental stability . "Well... when we were infiltrating the base, I just got these flashbacks about the innocent lives I've taken, I could see their pained faces and pleading eyes looking at the monster in front of them, and then I saw the room where they brainwashed me, it was all just to much for me"

You lift your head from Bucky's chest and take his vibranium hand into your hand, to show him that he is not a monster and neither a harmful soldier. "You are not a monster... do you see me as a monster?" "No" "Well then you shouldn't think of yourself as one, because I also killed those people, Bucky, I didn't have a choice and neither did you" you let a moment of silence follow for the words to sink into his mind and utter the last words "I love you for who you are Bucky and you should never forget that" "You love me?" "Uhh...yeahhh, and I have for the past two years, sine that first night you calmed me from my nightmare." you shyly fumble with the hem of your shirt, shocked at the confession that slipped past your lips. "And you're only telling me this now because....?" "because I didn't want to ruin our friendship, you're the only person I have left and I don't want to lose you too." You start to tear up at the thought of losing Bucky, but he is quick to soothe your fear "Who said anything about leaving? he takes your fumbling hands into his, gaining your attention. "I love you too Y/N, more than just a friend."

There's a few moments of silence exchanged between the two of you - the conversation playing on repeat in your minds, loving and longing looks shared and Bucky's thumb circling your wrist. "Y/N, I want to ask you something" "Go ahead" you are almost to afraid to listen to his words 'what if he doesn't want this?!' "would you like to be my girlfriend?" those seven words rocked your world and for the second time that day your heart shatters into pieces, but this time from the loud, excited thumping against your ribcage. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!!! I would love that Bucky!!!" you can't contain your excitement and it makes Bucky give you a proud, genuine smile.

------

After the movie, you were still cuddled up to Bucky's side, resting your head on his chest and listening to the rhythmic beats of his heart. You were playing with his dog tags, tracing the engraved titles and flicking it between your different fingers. You let out a yawn and rub your heavy eyes. "How are you still not sleeping Bucky?" "It might take a while with all the memories floating inside my head, but I'll eventually fall asleep, don't you worry about me doll" "I'm always here if you need to talk okay? Even when I'm sleeping at 03:00 in the morning" you give him the only smile you could muster up in your tired state 'just imagine how tired he should be feeling' Bucky lets out a breathless laugh and the rumbling in his chest, sends shock waves straight to your tired and battered heart.

Your eyes flutter closed, but you once again force them open - perhaps you were scared that it was all just a dream and that when you woke up, you'd have to, once again, walk with the secret of loving Bucky and having no idea what to do with it. Bucky bends over and leaves a kiss at the top of you head "Thank you for staying with me" he whispers into your ear. "Always"

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

TAGLIST: (if your name is crossed out, I couldn’t tag you)

@buckyzzrogers @buckyandstevesbitch @ooopsthiswasnotsupposedtohappen @marvelouslyriddikulus

#comfort bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky fluff #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #Bucky Nightmares #Bucky Barnes #requests open #prompt list

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mayans-sauce · 3 years

Text

Gemma’s Daughter (1/?)

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Warnings: Cursing, angst, yelling, cheating, heartbreak, physical fight

Request by anon which you can find HERE

A/N: thank you for the request! Sorry it’s a little late. I changed it up a bit by having Jax and Gemma still be alive as well as some other things. I’m really happy with how this turned out so I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it <3

GROUP CHAT for updates!

Gif Credit: @pedropcl

This was the third time Angel’s phone went straight to voicemail. It was the middle of the night, and he said he would be home 3 hours ago for his and your movie night which at the end of it, you would share some thrilling life-changing news. You were worried sick about him not returning your calls, worried that something serious had happened. What if he was hurt? Or worse, dead? You decided to shoot him a text; maybe he was doing something important, making it so he couldn’t pick up right now.

📲 Angel😇

Baby, where are you? I’m worried! Please just let me know if you’re safe ok? I have something exciting to tell you. Love you❤️

You texted some of the other guys. None of them had heard anything from him. They told you not to worry. He was probably caught up with something and would turn up eventually. Luckily your brother Jax picked up when you called. You asked him for some guidance on if you should sound the alarm or wait until Angel gave off noise. Since he was in the same life as your husband, you figured he would know what’s best. He told you better to wait. That he was most likely dealing with something that had taken his full attention. If he didn’t turn up tomorrow, Jackson said he would take the drive over to help you look for him. You were so thankful for your big brother. He was always there to help you whenever he could. To protect and love you.

You refused to go to sleep before he came home or before he called you, so you knew he was safe and sound. Some movie was playing on the TV that you didn’t pay much attention to. The battle between you and your eyelids was still going strong. All of a sudden, you were woken up from your zombie state by the front door opening and closing. Footsteps that belonged to no other than Angel made their way into the dim-lit living room.

“Angel!” His movements were sort of clumsy. A sign that he had been drinking. You came to stand at his side. Holding him up by his forearm as it looked like he was going to faint face down ass up on the floor any second. Your nose scrunched up at the strong smell of the alcohol on him. “Angel, I was worried sick! Where were you?” “I was out with my brother.” His words had a pinch of sluggishness in them as he spoke. “We were supposed to have our movie night! We haven’t seen each other all week, and this was going to be our evening together.”

“Ugh,” he tugged himself out of your grasp, which took you by surprise. “Why are you so bossy all the time? I’m a grown man. I can take care of myself.” His words started to sting a little, but you didn’t think that much of it. He was shitfaced drunk, and he wasn’t his usual self. “Angel I-“ “No, you listen here, I’m sick and tired of you always going; oh Angel this oh Angel that,” he tried to mimic your voice but failed miserably, “like shut up. Shut the fuck up for one goddamn second in your life and stop being so fucking clingy.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing from him. The tears in your eyes started to build up as you held two protective hands over your stomach. Your mouth was slightly agape in disbelief. “A-Angel ple-please-“ “No, I don’t fucking care right now. I’m leaving.” And just like that, he turned around and walked out. The force of the door slamming shut shook the whole house as you were left with an emptiness inside you.

The tears ran down your cheeks like it was pouring rain outside. Your body trembled at the anxiety and stress you were feeling at what just happened. You looked down at where your hands were laid over your stomach. “I-I’m so sorry li-little bean. I’m so so-sorry, my sweetheart.”

In the morning, you woke up in the worst state you have ever been in. The same clothes as yesterday were still on you. The pounding in your head wouldn’t seem to stop. Your eyes raw from crying, and your throat felt like rough sandpaper. Wrapping the blanket around yourself, you padded down to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As you stared out the kitchen window, you saw your neighbor playing with their kids, which started the production of tears again.

A gasp left you of the sound from the front door opening and Angel’s voice calling for you. You met him in the living room—both of you staring at each other without saying a word. You should be mad at him, shouldn’t you? To scream at him for saying those hurtful things? But for some reason, your heart wouldn’t allow you to do so. You were just relieved that he had come home.

Angel was the first one to break the awkward silence. “Please… sit,” he pointed towards the sofa. You sat at one end while he took his place at the other. His face was in his hands. It looked like he had something to share with you. “Angel… what is it?” Your voice was nothing but a whisper. His eyes locked with yours and his heart broke when he saw what mess he had left you in. “I’m sorry for how I acted. Yelling at you like that…saying things that aren’t true… it’s not what you deserve. I don’t know what came over me and… I have something I need to tell you.” He looked up to you as tears welled up in his eyes. You gave him a slight nod, a sign that he could go ahead with whatever it was.

“When I left in the night, I was supposed to go over to pop's house to sleep. I didn’t take the bike because I was too shitfaced to drive, so I went on foot hoping that it would sober me up… and... I just kept walking and walking until I found myself… not at Felipe’s.” He peeked up to you from where he was looking down at the floor just a moment ago. His heart broke into microscopic pieces when he saw on your face that you knew where his story was most likely going. As much as he didn’t want to finish, he had to. He had to come clean and straight with you. You deserved that much.

“I found myself at Adelita’s place… and… we hooked up.” The silence after he said that was hefty and long. Once again, he was the one to break it. “Querida… it’s the biggest fucking mistake I have ever made in my fucking life. I don’t know what the fuck came over me to do something like that to you… to us.”

He tried to get a hold of your hand, but you pulled away in disgust. You didn’t want him to touch you after he had been feeling all up on her in the night while you were home alone crying yourself to sleep. You had no words, none. Your mouth was opening and closing, but nothing seemed to escape it. “Please say something.” “Where is she?” “I don’t see ho-“ “Goddammit Angel, just tell me where the fuck she is!” The scream you let out startled him. “Sh-she’s at the clubhouse… there was some emergency that needed to be taken care of, and it couldn’t wait till later.”

At lightning speed, you had grabbed the car keys and were out the door. Angel registered what the fuck was going on when he heard the engine's roar from the car. He was quick to his feet and on his bike to try and catch up before you did anything stupid.

Not thinking straight, you barge through the Templo doors to be met with Adelita and the rest of the MC standing over a map planning something. “Sweetheart, you aren’t supposed to be here,” Bishop said with a stern manner. You didn’t hear him. You didn’t care that you weren’t supposed to be in the room. All you could think about was the rage filling you up as she stood there gloating at you. A smug look on her face that you knew where your man had been last night, all cozy and tangled up together in her sheets.

She didn’t expect you to jump her and start beating the shit out of her; she knew you weren’t that type of girl, so it startled her when you did. That’s when Angel walked in out of breath and saw the scene in front of him that had him stand dead in his tracks as he watched. Your hands punched and scratched as you screamed, "I'm the mother of his child, not you bitch! Don’t ever touch him again!” You didn’t register what you said, and now everyone knew. She tried to fight back, but you were much more powerful than her.

It took the guys a few moments to pull you off as they were in sheer shock at what was going on in front of them. You were usually a shy and sweet girl that wouldn’t even hurt a fly. They were surprised that you so quickly took her down. Once pulled off, Taza escorted Adelita out since it was time for her to leave. “How in the fuck did you do that?” They almost said in unison. "Jax may be my brother, but my mother is Gemma, and you definitely don’t want to fuck with us.” You knew your mother would be proud of you for standing up for yourself and for putting that bitch in her place.

“Wait… you’re pregnant.” “Yes, Angel, I’m fucking pregnant, and you’ve just fucked up our whole relationship, our future.” The tears that were threatening to spill were managed to be put under control by your choice of not showing any of them how you truly felt, sad, empty, alone, and betrayed by Angel’s choices of thinking with his dick and not his fucking brain.

You were about to storm out when he grabbed you by the forearm. “Wait, please… we can fix this! Please let me fix this dulce.” “No, Angel,” you twisted your arm to get loose of his grip; the touch of him made you cringe, “the damage has already been done. I can’t fucking stand to look at you. Not now. I’m going home… I’m going home to Charming for a while.” And with that, you left Angel there to mend his broken pieces at losing the two of you…

To Be Continued

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Thank you for reading❤️ A quick reblog and feedback would be so appreciated❤️ Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist.

MAYANS MC TAGLIST: @blessedboo @60shannon @bellisperennis0 @capnsaveahoe @diaryofkali @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @xvvalx @missswritings @theocatkov @pinguinstudiert @chibsytelford @encounterthepast @rawrlittlepanda-95 @beeroses @siriussnape07 @adaydreamaway08 @miss-nori85 @oldstuffnewstuff @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @jatriciaaa @browneyes912 @cole-winchester @blackksunflower12 @phoenixhalliwell @cant-decide-at-this-moment @love-mesome-me @holl2712 @jennisdirtyimagines @balladbloodwrites @lilacyennefer @smallflower16 @marvelmaree @brwnlikefoxy @kaylaygrace @stupiddsapphicc @violet624 @boomclapxox @mijop @macgruberrr @queen-under-the-shire @missihart23 @vixemi @heeeeeres-saint @paintballkid711 @x-goddess-of-nature-x @angelreyesisdaddy04 @mrsmarvelous1995

ANGEL REYES TAGLIST: @spnaquakindgdom @Negansnympho89

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spidernerdsblog · 3 years

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Hi 🙋‍♀️I have a request if u take them. Cud u write sth about Tom Holland x singer reader and the reader is performing at the Grammys or sth and the performance and song and costume is like really seggsy and Tom gets jealous??? Idk 🤷‍♀️ Sorry to bother u I just love your writing

Sorry this took me so long was at a lack of ideas. I strongly believe Taylor Swift’s reputation deserved a Grammy. So I'm borrowing her album for the reader. Hope you like this.

Pairing : Tom Holland x Singer! Reader

Warnings : angst, fluff, jealousy, suggestive theme, missed typos

Mini Playlist : Endgame by Taylor Swift, There’s nothing holding me back by Shawn Mendes

Baby I'm jealous

You and Tom were seated at the back when your limo pulled over at the venue. You could hear the commotion from the inside even though you have walked numerous red carpets by now but it still seems to be a little nerve racking to you. Especially when this is the first time Tom is accompanying you to the Grammys which is going to be a big deal for the media. The security personnel opened the door and as you stepped out of the car you were flooded with flashing lights from the cameras.

Tom held out his hand for you, you slipped your arm into his and walked with a dazzling smile posing for the cameras “you look amazing, darling” he knelt down to whisper in your ear. In the meantime a lady journalist came forward to ask you a bunch of questions.

“So Y/N three nominations this year, how are you feeling?”

“Well it’s always good to be back here and share the stage with all these talented artists as usual I’m excited and looking forward to the night” you answered.

“We see you have brought company this year” she remarked which had you blushing.

“Yeah, I couldn't think of a better company than him on this very important occasion” you said bashfully tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Tom, what do you have to say?” she poses the question to him.

“Uhh I mean she has always been an incredible singer and her songs are the reason that made me fall in love with her in the first place” he replied looking proudly at you.

“Aww you both are adorable. Wish you the best” she said before leaving.

“Thank you so much” you thanked her, walking inside the auditorium and sat on your designated seats. There you were met with lots of your friends from the music industry as you said hi and chatted with them for a while.

“Hey Y/N how are you?!” you heard Shawn from behind as you turned around and went to eagerly hug him. You and Shawn were really good friends from the beginning of your career and you have always been supporting each other’s works.

“I’m good, how are you?” you chirped.

“I’m fine now” he remarked cheekily and went to sit beside you as you started talking catching up on each other totally ignoring Tom. To be honest he was a little annoyed seeing you so over friendly with him but he brushed off his thoughts quickly.

The show began and a few awards were distributed with some performances in between by different artists. You too had to perform for tonight which also included a duet with Shawn and soon your time came as you stood up from your seat to go backstage.

“Best of luck, love” Tom said to boost your confidence.

“Thanks babe” you kissed on his cheek lovingly.

“See you on the stage Y/N” Shawn snickered.

“Oh I’m looking forward to it” you blew him an air kiss and headed backstage to change into your stage outfit. The stage was set and you could hear the loud cheers of the audience from backstage. Truth to be told you always get a little nervous before any public concert but this time it was different because Tom sat there in the audience and you are more excited than nervous to perform. The lights went out and the screen doors slid open as you walked on the stage with the spotlight on you. The notes begin to play as you vocalize striding across the stage with oomph.

I wanna be your endgame

I wanna be your first string

I wanna be your A-Team

I wanna be your endgame, endgame

The crowd cheered as the supporting dancers slowly entered the stage. Tom sat amidst the crowd in awe witnessing you in your full glory. You owned the stage like a queen. He knew you were the prettiest woman he has ever met but the bodycon suit you were wearing accentuated your curves all at the right places.

Big reputation, big reputation

Ooh you and me we got big reputations, ah

And you heard about me, ooh

I got some big enemies

You waltzed around the stage with a sultry look in your eyes, slightly swaying your hips making the crowd go crazy. Tom was very good at keeping his emotions under check but when it comes to you he’s a possessive man so when he heard a few men from the crowd passing comments of how hot and sexy you looked he was fuming from inside. You went on to sing two more songs from your album then transitioned to Shawn’s latest single.

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

“Make some noise for Shawn Mendes!” you cheered as he emerged from the backstage playing the chords on his guitar and the audience screamed at the top of their voice.

I wanna follow where she goes

I think about her and she knows it

I wanna let her take control

'Cause everytime that she gets close, yeah

He sang with his gaze directed at you which didn’t go unnoticed by Tom who was looking at you both with narrowed eyes and clenched jaws.

She pulls me in enough to keep me guessing (mmm)

And maybe I should stop and start confessing

Confessing, yeah

You joined in singing along the lyrics with him exchanging flirtatious gestures with each other. You encouraged the audience to sing along with you.

Oh, I've been shaking

I love it when you go crazy

You take all my inhibitions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

You take me places that tear up my reputation

Manipulate my decisions

Baby, there's nothing holdin' me back

There's nothing holdin' me back

You were clearly having a fun time sharing the stage with Shawn as you both swayed to the beat with a wide smile and the crowd cheered you on. Tom heard someone saying “they make a good pair” and he completely lost it. Now he was jealous even though he knows it’s wrong because you had always made it clear that you loved him more than anything but you in that ravishing outfit dancing and singing being way too comfortable around each other wasn’t helping much.

Your performance ended after some time and Tom couldn’t be anymore happier. You were back in the audience again as Shawn couldn’t stop praising you “you just set the stage on fire Y/N! It was awesome”

“Oh shut up! You weren’t bad either” you quipped. Tom sat there silently feeling neglected at how you had time to talk with everyone except him. The show ended with you winning the three categories you were nominated for : album of the year, song of the year and artist of the year. You were elated at your achievements as your team escorted you for a photo session. You saw Tom standing at a distance and walked over to him.

“Why are you standing here? Come and stand with me” you said, grabbing his arm.

“No I’m better off standing here rather than being your arm candy” he says bitterly pulling out his arm from your hold.

“What?!” you were slightly taken aback as you looked at him in confusion.

“Hey Y/N!” your manager called out.

“Just a moment!” you told him to wait and dragged Tom to a corner.

“What the hell was that back there?” you hissed at him.

“You know it very well” you shrugged with a disinterested look on his face.

“I-I really don’t understand where this is coming from Tom but are you upset with something?” you were really concerned with his sudden outburst.

“Well isn’t that obvious? When your girlfriend brings you to a public event to treat you like a sidepiece and goes on flirting with her colleagues on stage it is naturally upsetting” he jabbed at you.

“Are you even listening to what you are saying Tom? Everyone here are my work friends just like you have” you retorted in a hushed tone.

“Well it looked more than just friends” he bit back.

“Now you’re being ridiculous” you were totally done with him, fuming at his accusation.

“Y/N come fast!” your manager called you again.

“Yeah coming!” you replied and turned to Tom again “you know what it was actually my fault that I brought you along with me. I thought we were ready to take the next step in our relationship but it clearly doesn’t look like that” you snapped at him and walked back to have your pictures taken. You were stopped by various people, for interviews as well as to congratulate you for your win but you were so annoyed with Tom you couldn’t concentrate properly.

Towards the end of the night, you had almost forgotten about Tom’s comments as you busied yourself into conversations with different people from the industry, sipping on champagne.

As soon as he cooled down Tom was quick to realize his mistake and tried to approach you several times, but you successfully ignored him by preoccupying yourself elsewhere. He eventually caught up to you, grabbing your arm before you could walk away “Y/N, please. Can we just talk for a second?”

“No I don’t think so because I’m quite busy flirting with each and every guy over here” you snapped, turning to walk away. He grabbed your arm again, “Y/N, c’mon love, I’m really sorry” he whined.

You whipped around “not now Tom. We will talk after we get out of here so if you will excuse me” saying so you walked away to be stopped by a reporter for another interview. The after party ended an hour as you and Tom exited the place. You climbed into the limo, quickly putting up the privacy window. Tom climbed in after you, taking a seat glancing at you.

“What?” you scowled, crossing your arms over your chest. You could tell he was really upset with what he’d said earlier.

“Y/N.. I can't even explain how sorry I am” he started “I know I was being a dick back there and I feel terrible about it”

You leaned back in your seat sighing “you know what, I'm really tired. Can we talk about this after we reach home?” He nodded silently in agreement without uttering a single word on the drive back.

Once you got home, you walked through the living room and made your way into your shared bedroom. You sat on the bed taking off your heels and massaged your ankles. After sometime Tom joined you in the bedroom. He takes off his suit jacket and loosens his tie as you stare at him for a second. He looked so good in formal attire which filled your head with filthy thoughts. How you could have celebrated your win in a different way but he had to ruin it by acting out like that.

“Y/N, I truly am sorry. I.. I have no excuse for my behavior. It was completely my fault” he walked over to you, sitting next to you on the bed.

You sighed deeply and stood up walking over to your walk in closet. Your hands went to your back to reach out to the zipper of your dress “I really didn’t expect this from you at least. Of all the people I thought you would understand since you are in the same line of work” you said with disappointment clear in your voice. Tom hung his head low in shame.

“I know babe it was rude and totally uncalled for. I was a fucking idiot and let my insecurities get the best of me” he said with remorse.

“Then just think about how I feel when I have to watch you making out with other women on screen. I never said anything to you. Instead I always supported you and you on the other hand questioned our relationship just because I was singing and dancing with someone else who happens to be a very good friend of mine” you ranted still struggling with the zipper of your dress “a little help please?” you huffed slightly irritated and angry.

Tom bit back a smile as he walked over to you and helped you unzip your dress. He took your hands in his and pecked on them gently “I didn't mean to ruin the night for you” he apologized, looking down at your hands.

You pulled out your hands and crossed your arms “well it wasn’t that bad given that I won three Grammys but I wished you were there by my side” you said completely forgetting that you were standing there in just your strapless bra and very tiny pair of lace underwear.

Tom was eyeing you the whole time with a known smirk plastered on his face. You noticed that and looked down at yourself “oh, c’mon. I’m trying to have a serious conversation here!” you scoffed, throwing your hands in the air. You shook your head in annoyance and grabbed the black silk robe, tying it around your body.

Tom was broken out of his trance as he walked over to you, placing a hand on your cheek “Y/N believe me I’m really sorry. I wish I could take back all the horrible things I said to you. You didn’t deserve any of it. Sorry for being such a jerk to you”

Your expression softened as you held his hand gently “well I’m glad to hear that. And even if I try I can’t stay mad at you for a longtime so apology accepted” you said with a smile.

“Thank you darling it would never happen again I promise” he says stroking his thumb on your cheek bone as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips “and I mean it” he stated a hand reaching up to untie your robe as your robe fell open, your breath hitched “though it was slightly your fault too, how do you expect me to not get jealous seeing you with someone else looking so bloody gorgeous in that outfit?” he hooked his index finger under the silk on your shoulder, pulling the robe down slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your skin “but I’m really sorry” he whispers in a husky tone.

“Then prove it” you looked at him challengingly, a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without any further delay Tom crashed his lips to yours effortlessly lifting you up by your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

...........................................................

Reblogs are appreciated ❤️

#tom holland #tom holland one shot #tom holland smut #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagines #tom holland fluff

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chainofclovers · 3 years

Text

Ted Lasso 2x9 thoughts

It’s no secret that I absolutely adore Coach Beard; he’s one of my favorite characters on the show, and he’s so well-written and well-acted that somehow I tend to be both perfectly satisfied with the details we see and truly curious to understand more about the way he thinks, what’s really happening re: his professional and personal devotion to Ted, where he comes from and where he’s going. I don’t need to know his name beyond the name he wants to be called, but I want to know why we don’t have any other names for him. And I don’t need him to be a bigger focal point of every episode, but I very much needed this episode’s world-exploding reminder that every single character on this show has a rich inner life, full of joys and troubles.

“Beard After Hours” is like a movie, but one that scatters its climaxes and puts off its resolutions...because it’s not a movie. It’s episode nine of a twelve-episode season of TV. When the episode ended, I felt this almost frantic “But he needed to break up with Jane for good before the end of the episode!” feeling. I was so pulled in by the idea of being able to tell an entire story in one night, of going on an odyssey alongside a complicated hero, that watching Beard and Jane find each other in that club felt as intense as the fact that we don’t know if Ted responded to Rebecca’s voicemail and we don’t know what’s going to happen with Rebecca and Sam and we don’t know who isn’t getting married and who is having a funeral in 2x10 (I mean, I have my strong suspicions, but still!) and we don’t know if Richmond will be promoted back to the Premier League. And on and on. I didn’t mind feeling desperate for the story to resolve even though I understood after thinking about it for ten seconds that of course it couldn’t resolve yet. Or ever. Or yet.

I’m a big fan of the TL episode recaps/reviews Linda Holmes writes for NPR, and I have to quote something from this week’s directly because it so perfectly explains my feelings:

The power of the scene where Beard dances in the club isn't that it's a beautiful romantic climax. It's that it's an explanation of why he cannot seem to extricate himself from this bad relationship. What makes the worst relationships so dangerous is that they have elements that feel good that are very hard to get elsewhere. Beard knows that; he tells it to God. What's concerning isn't that Jane makes the world seem more interesting; what's concerning is she's the only thing that does. That doesn't take away from the joy of the dancing; it just tells you that even happiness is complicated.

I love Holmes’ perspective here so much, because it articulates something I was struggling to figure out: how it can feel so legitimate, like such a (temporary but nonetheless powerful) relief, for Beard to find Jane in that club and to have this moment of euphoria as his night nears an end. How it is possible to experience that relief on behalf of a character while fervently wishing it could end differently, because it’s so clear from the abusive text messages and the toxic calls and the manipulative interactions that Jane is terrible to him and they’re terrible for each other. But Beard knows this. He knows it when he hugs Higgins in the parking lot after Higgins is honest with him in a way Ted and Rebecca and Keeley have not learned how to be, and he knows it when part of his prayer includes the clear articulation that Jane isn’t the cure for what “ails me.” He’s inching closer to greater self-knowledge just as Ted is.

And the two big resolutions that really, really needed to happen did. I didn’t know I needed Paul, Baz, and Jeremy to get to wrap up their own night out on the pitch at Nelson Road, but I did. It brought actual tears to my eyes. And the other resolution was Beard showing up with the other coaches’ coffees for their meeting to watch the game film. As interesting as it would have been to see what Ted would have done if Beard hadn’t shown up, I’m so, so glad that he did. He’s got a messed-up face and some truly epic pants on, but otherwise this is just Beard showing up for work, showing up for his friends. It was incredible to realize that Beard and Ted haven’t been exaggerating when they’ve referred to his sex-and-drug proclivities in the past. The night documented in 2x9 might have been particularly scary and violent and euphoric and awful and meaningful, but this type of all-night adventure isn’t a foreign concept for this guy. In all the other episodes of this show, when we see Beard we’re seeing someone who might have been out all night, who might have spent the hours the sun was down desperately pushing himself closer to whatever edges he could find.

I don’t really want to touch upon all the allusions in this episode. They are abundant, they are well-documented, and also I haven’t even seen the movie After Hours. I enjoyed this episode for its allusive qualities and I enjoyed this episode for what it was and I feel like I have to be at peace with the fact that I’m never going to pick up on every single reference on this show and that is okay.

So, yeah, if this entry on my tumblr dot com blog seems remarkably devoid of references and allusions, it’s not because I’m not into it but because I find it too overwhelming to actually write about.

Very into the Misplaced and Discovered box at the Crown and Anchor. (That’s what Mae wrote on the Lost and Found box at the pub, right? Whatever it is, it’s so funny.)

Beard hallucinating Thierry Henry and Gary Lineker was truly upsetting and a great indicator not only of how broken things are between the Richmond coaching staff right now but also how deep Beard’s self-loathing might go. If you’d asked me before Thursday if I thought Beard loathed himself, I would say no. That deepening of knowledge alone makes 2x9 worth it.

James Tartt and his friends in the alley. Such a nightmare. I go back and forth on how much of the night was real, and part of me has decided all of it is, short of the images of Henry and Lineker. (And even that is real to the extent that it was a way of articulating what was in Beard’s head.) But watching Beard in physical danger brought on by the same abuser who had him so upset in the first place. It was a lot.

I’m so excited that Paul and Jeremy and Baz got some spotlight this episode. It was so wonderful to see them out of the pub. I love that they ended up telling the Oxford snots who they really were. They got to see Beard going to bat for them and smoothing over the situation socially, and that actually made it more possible for them to end up being truthful about themselves. Because they have nothing to be ashamed of, and they deserved the magic of that night. (And for it to end on Nelson Road. Every feeling. Oof.)

I feel like I barely have anything to say about the trouser-mending lady or the many places Beard goes or his key-dropping or the nightmarish feeling of wanting to be home and being unable to be home. It all happened and we all watched it and again, it was a lot. But I do feel incredibly moved and fascinated by the fact that Beard very obviously still hasn’t been home when he brings in the coffee. He’s had to sleep at the club for Jane- and key-related reasons in the past, and this time it’s not that he’s slept there but it still feels like a kind of homecoming he was robbed of for the entire night. Ted and Roy and Nate are there. He’s gotten their coffee orders correct. Ted is growing and evolving (he wants to learn from what’s happened, he’s insisting upon it even when the others resist) but he’s done a really perfect (almost romantic in its loveliness) thing by presumably spending his evening following a breakdown of his own speeding up the game film to 10x speed and adding Benny Hill. Ted is not OK and Beard is not OK and Nate is not OK and Roy is pretty OK but could very easily be not OK because he’s just joined a coaching staff with a whole lot of not OK. But they all showed up.

I am very into the realism of the lights being off in the club other than the coaches’ office (@talldecafcappuccino pointed this out!), and the way we’re seeing their desks from a different angle because this episode is unfocused on Ted. It really added to the mindset of being hungover and exhausted and unable to go home or even to know exactly what home should be; even this warm, familiar place feels off even as it’s a relief to be back there.

I am excited to return to our regularly scheduled programming with the full cast of characters, but I really adored this episode for what it taught us about Beard and what it illuminated about the humor, pain, and complexity of each person who inhabits this universe. Beard may not be loud about his long-standing beliefs or about the things he’s learned, but there’s a lot happening in there and I appreciated getting to spend 43 minutes with him and (in the case of the ticket he scrawls on a piece of paper so the pub guys can get into Nelson Road) the moments he sets in motion.

#ted lasso #ted lasso s2 spoilers #ted lasso 2x9 #meta by me #a lesbian watches ted lasso #coach beard

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