2. the first rain of autumn
3. stepping on crunchy leaves
4. meeting new friends
5. seeing old friends
7. shooting stars
8. catching snowflakes on your tongue
9. fresh baked pie
10. digging your feet in sand
11. listening to the birds
12. singing along to your favourite songs
13. watching your breath on cold mornings
16. compliments from strangers
19. taking funny photos with your friends
21. fuzzy socks
22. full moons
23. being so happy you’re crying
24. doing what you love
25. overcoming your fears
28. new albums of your favourite band
30. you are so beautiful
31. sitting on rooftops
32. you are so precious
33. making other people laugh
36 the world wouldn’t be the same without you
37. bubble baths
38. your scars will heal
39. lying on the grass while watching the clouds
41. first sip of hot chocolate
42. cozy sweaters
45. baby animals
summary : nothing beats winter in new york, except maybe walking to school in the snow with a certain peter parker.
wc : 2.4k
author’s note : tags are under the read more and ik it’s august but it’s winter in my soul !
There were people who dreamt of a Christmas in New York. People who sat by their windowsills, gazing past the confining glass screens and wishing to one day set their eyes upon a town blanketed by a mass of snow. In the city, it was a sight to behold and cherish. You go to Rockefeller Center and look up at the tree, lit with hundreds of lights and looking like a dream, and your Christmas in New York is complete. It was a thing of fiction for many people, but for you, it was the harsh reality.
You were not yearning for a white Christmas the way some people would. You were, however, hoping that your parents would surprise you with an impromptu vacation to the Bahamas for a month while the snow in your beloved city melted to more of a slush, whisking you away to a paradise where you were not forced to trek through the piles of snow surrounding your apartment building as you attempted to make your way to the nearest A train.
It was a miserable day, to be quite honest. You had forgotten your hat in your apartment after you had scrambled to get out of bed, you had underestimated the temperature outside and so you were wearing way lighter a jacket than you should be, and your jeans were soaking wet due to the way you had sunk knee deep in a pit of snow. This was absolute bullshit and you were ready to march back home, prepared to draw up an essay as to why you shouldn’t attend class that day until Peter Parker practically ambushed you in the middle of the sidewalk.
He had ran nearly a block to try to catch up with you. Peter had been waiting to take the train with you and walk with you to school for nearly two weeks now, but he had never gotten out of his apartment early enough, and if it wasn’t for his profoundly excellent eyesight, he probably would’ve spent another day walking alone. The sight of a boy dashing down the street with his jacket blown open by the wind and a ridiculous hat pulled down over his ears was enough to make anyone laugh, but you had been too preoccupied with fuming to hear his thunderous footsteps behind you. He nearly knocked you over when he finally caught up to you, his cheeks rosy from the bitter wind nipping at his face as he ran and his breath coming out in harsh pants.
“Oh my God!” You whipped around, taking a step backward and holding a hand to your heart. He did a little shrugging motion, somewhere between an apology and pleased with himself for managing to surprise you for once.
Grinning, he fell into step beside you, though not easily due to the random, deep pockets of snow that covered the path ahead. He bumped his shoulder against yours. “Not God, just me, though it’s been said that we’re practically the same thing.” You laughed, bumping his shoulder back.
“No one has ever said that, and no one ever will,” you replied, pulling your sweater down over your hands for more warmth. Peter examined your attire with a shake of his head.
“You realize it’s not fall anymore, right?” He quirked an eyebrow, and you rolled your eyes in response, gesturing a hand at the mountain of dirt stained snow piled in front of an apartment building.
“Nah, didn’t notice at all.” You huffed. You crossed your arms, trying to preserve as much warmth as possible. “Especially ‘cause of the snow that’s starting to come down now, really throws a girl off.” As you said that, the puffy white flakes fluttered down and landed in your hair. Peter, ignoring the blatant sarcasm, pulled his hat off his head. “You didn’t gel it down today?”
“Nope,” he said, catching your wrist in your hand and forcing you to stop. “Didn’t feel like it.” Also, you said you like my hair when it’s curly, I heard you talking to Michelle. So here I am. Do you realize this yet? He stretched the hat out before plopping it down on your head, tugging it so that it covered your eyes. You lifted it back up, staring up at him questioningly. “You’re gonna catch a cold. The snowflake hair look is cool, but your health is better.” He said it because he knew it sounded ridiculous, and because he was sure you’d affectionately punch his arm or something and he liked the fuzzy feeling in his stomach that he got whenever you touched him.
“That’s lame,” you said, just the way he had expected. You smiled slightly at his ruffled mop of hair, reaching up to tousle it in a way that he supposed he should have found irritating, as it made his hair even messier than it had been before. “Nice hair.”
You turned to continue walking, pulling him along with you as he smiled smugly to himself. He tugged on a lock of his hair, the strand that had settled in the middle of his forehead defiantly. “Oh, you like it? Didn’t know that. Thanks.” You headed down the steps of the 71st avenue station, a little past Queens boulevard. You only needed to ride it one stop, but it was better to waste the $2.75 on your metro card than continue trudging through the snow with a murderous expression adorning your face. You boarded the F train together, Peter managing to find the only open seat and sliding into it quickly, laughing at the face you made at him. You took a step forward to grab onto the pole in the middle of the train but it lurched forward suddenly, and you surely would have been thrown to the other side of the car if Peter hadn’t grabbed your arm and pulled you backwards into his lap before you could embarrass yourself even further. The trains were tricky, and he knew you had more of a knack for falling down than anyone else.
You exhaled, turning your head to stare at Peter. He was staring back with a sheepish expression, the tip of his nose pink. “Thanks Peter,” you smile, patting his shoulder. His arms were still secured around your waist when he shrugged, appearing utterly nonchalant even though internally, he was sort of screaming. Sort of. “When did your reflexives become so good? You struggle to do one push up in gym, no offense.” Oh, you know, just when I become Spider-Man. I save Queens daily. I saved you once but you didn’t know. Should I tell you? Probably not. One day.
“Oh, um, you know, I need good reflexives so I can save your clumsy self from tripping down the stairs at school every day,” he lied not so smoothly, giving your knee a little tap. You nodded thoughtfully. Seemed simple enough. “You can keep sitting here, if you want.”
Mistaking this for sarcasm, you went to move. “Oh shit. Sorry Peter, I’ll get up.” Surprising himself with his own confidence, he pulled you back. “What are you doing?”
Peter didn’t know what to say to this. Just savoring the feeling of you on my lap? Too creepy, and too exposing. You’d sound like one of those cat callers on the street, the ones she screams back at with vicious insults and creative threats. Get it together, Peter. “You needed a seat and, uh, you know, this one is… available. I wasn’t being sarcastic or anything.” He winced as soon as the words came out of his mouth, moving his head to play it off like he just wanted to look out the window. There was nothing to even look at it. It was dark.
“I’ll take it then,” you said softly, and, for his sake, you pretended not to notice how embarrassed he was that he had said what he did in the first place. He was endlessly thankful for that, because the fact that you were sitting on his lap right now was enough to make him sweat through his winter clothes even though it was below 25 degrees fahrenheit. If you had started teasing about him saying that his lap was an openly available seat, he most likely would have imploded. Before either of you could say anything else to shatter the silence that had settled there, the train screeched to stop again, and Peter’s grip on your waist tightened. You glanced down at his hand, sitting there on your waist, a fist bunched in the sweatshirt you had thrown on in this morning not knowing how fucking deathly it was going to be outside. You stood up when the doors opened, your hand absentmindedly wrapping around Peter’s wrist as you pulled him up toward the doors with you.
“If you’re still cold I can give you my jacket, I don’t mind,” Peter said, glancing down at your hand, locked on his wrist. You bumped into someone as you turned around, giving them a quick apology.
“Peter, stop giving me your clothes-” Before you could finish your sentence, a guy cut in between you two, your hand slipping from Peter’s as he abruptly interrupted the conversation.
“Hey, you and your boyfriend are cute, but the PDA is too much. Lay off for a second, yeah? It’s uncomfortable.” The guy clapped Peter on the shoulder, then swiftly exited the car, leaving you and Peter to stumble out, flushed with embarrassment because while the guy was leaving, you had called out, “He’s- he’s not my boyfriend, actually!”
Okay, am I that bad? Does she seriously think I’m that, like, repulsive? Oh, God, she hates me and I made her sit on my lap. I’m awful. And creepy. Ew. I’m sweating too much. Is that why she doesn’t like me? Because of the sweat? I need new cologne.
You two trekked the rest of the way to school in awkward silence, as opposed to the tranquil one that you had felt on the train. You had Peter’s hat still tucked over your head and to be honest, you were in desperate need of his jacket at the moment. But you knew the words you had said on the train, shouted at the retreating man’s coat with such ferocity, had wounded Peter a little. You hadn’t meant for it to come out so harsh, like you could never be his girlfriend or that you hadn’t ever thought about it, not even once. You had thought about it on multiple occasions, in multiple scenarios. It just wasn’t the reality.
You were around the corner from your school when Peter turned you around and placed his jacket over your shoulders. “You’re gonna need it,” he said, stepping away from you.
“Huh? Why?” In replacement of a proper answer, a verbal one that is, Peter gave you his signature saccharine smile and threw a snowball at you, laughing when you shrieked, your hands flying to zip up his jacket. He was nearly doubled over with laughter when a snowball landed in his hair, the white flakes sticking to his curls and dampening his hair.
“Hey!” He exclaimed, wiping the snow off his hair frantically. “I have a look I need to uphold!” He launched another snowball at you, hitting the side of your leg.
You threw one back and hit his shoulder, laughing hysterically. “Look? What look, Peter? The disheveled curly mess look?”
He stopped, a half made snowball in his hands that was already beginning to melt. “You like it, don’t even lie.”
Instead of replying, the way he had done earlier, you chucked another snowball at him, and it was soon a full blown war of flying snow and screams of laughter, messy hair and flushed cheeks and the nothing but the brightest of grins. “We’re gonna be so late, oh my god,” you panted, your hands practically frozen from the amount of snow you had picked up.
“We’re geniuses, we’ll deal with it somehow,” he answered, watching your hands. He moved closer, taking his sweater sleeves and pulling them over his hands, then grabbing your hands in his and slipping them underneath his sleeve. “Just ‘cause you’re cold.” When you smiled up at him thankfully, your cold hands squeezing his, Peter knew that if he didn’t kiss you right then and there, he’d regret it for the rest of his life. You take a step closer to him, because you knew that he’s thinking the same thing you are and you need this, too, but you slip on a sheet of ice. This time, he doesn’t catch you, he falls right down alongside you. You land on your back with a groan and he lands on top of you, hoisting himself up so that he’s able to hover over you.
“Y/N, I have to ask,” he sighed, biting his lip, then continued, “why’d you sound so offended when that guy said that we were dating? Would I be that bad to date?” There was a slight pout to his lips as he looked down at you, his hands beginning to shake slightly from the pressure of holding himself up. “’Cause I kind of have a confession to make, depending on your answer.”
You place your arms around his waist and he falls down on top of you, his eyebrows raised in surprise, but he wasn’t one to complain about the position he was in. “You’d make a wonderful boyfriend, Peter.”
“Your boyfriend, maybe?” He tilted his chin, lips inches away from yours.
“I could get behind that.” Soft lips met yours, but Peter was smiling so hard he could barely do it right. Your hands moved to his face, tracing over his dimple. It was perfectly impossible to resist smiling back into the kiss. The snow was still falling, falling, falling, but neither of you deigned to move. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes, face still bright.
You continued your walk to Midtown holding hands this time, well aware that you were twenty minutes late but too blissed out on the kiss to even pretend to care. “I like being called darling.”
“If we’re gonna do the whole boyfriend and girlfriend thing, you need to call me darling.” You paused. “It’s my kink.”
He knew you were joking around with him, but he still shook his head, playfully rolling his eyes as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You said weird stuff like that all the time, it was no different now than it had been yesterday, except this time he was your boyfriend, and if it was going to make you happy, he’d call you darling for the rest of your life. “I could get behind that.”
filled leather-bound journals, worn and muddy soles, catching snowflakes with your tongue and wildflowers in your hair. the sensation in your stomach right before the roller coaster goes down its first hill, broad grins at inside jokes, too large sweaters, bars of early sunlight spilling through branches. it’s paint stained fingers and bloody knees, defending themselves and others until they drop dead
everyone is the universe
some of us
have been searching for
water for years
some of us don’t even realize
we are burning
and some of us
are learning to catch sparks
on our tongue
For the prompt thing, one of my favorite tropes is Sterek forced bed sharing. If you feel inclined. ;) Thanks! Love your stuff. <3
thanks to carrie for the mix up earlier this week, which reminded me about this prompt. it’s…not really about beds, whoops. and i went over the word limit again (1246 words)
Stiles has never seen snow this heavy. In fact, before an hour ago, he’d barely seen snow at all; being so close to the coast, a winter wonderland Beacon Hills is not. If he’d been expecting it - if he was inside and warm, watching the snow fall through a window - he might be enjoying it, but an hour ago - was it only an hour? Maybe it’s been longer; he can’t tell, can’t unbend his fingers to find his phone - it was ninety degrees and sunny, and he’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and the snow’s already up to his shins. He’s never been so cold in his life; he’s already lost feeling in his feet and he’s not sure which is worse - not being able to feel his feet, or the wet way his jeans cling to his legs, burning colder and colder with every step.
Derek’s there. They got separated from the rest of the pack when the storm descended, and the only reason he hasn’t lost Derek in the driving snow is because he’s got his fingers curled through the loops of Derek’s belt as they trudge through the woods. He can’t feel his fingers, or his arms in general, and he can barely lift his head against the wind. He can hear Derek breathing heavily over the wail of the wind; it’s a surprise to Stiles how hard it is to walk through the snow, and that’s with Derek in front of him, forging the path. He’s not sure where they’re going, not sure Derek knows either - to find the edge of the storm, or the road, or shelter, whichever comes first. He’s scared they’re lost - that they’re heading away from the road, that this magical storm won’t end. He’s heard you get warm when you die of hypothermia, and that’s the only reason he welcomes the sting of snow against his cheeks, but he’s getting tired, and he’s terrified of what’s going to happen when he’s too exhausted to keep lifting his frozen feet.
Derek stops so abruptly that Stiles, too tired to lift his head, walks into his back. Derek doesn’t even snap at him: not a great sign. Any other time, being so close to Derek might have made him hot all over, and he certainly would have welcomed that heat right now, but all he can think about is the refrain that keeps repeating in his head: I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die.
aries // feels like you’re constantly on fire. it feels like riding a rollercoaster with your eyes open the entire time. it feels like writing your name on a mirror with red lipstick. they will make you feel like living every day as if it were your last day on earth
taurus // feels like you’re floating on a cloud. it feels like laying on the sand at the beach even when it’s too hot for your skin. it feels like bathing in dollar bills. they will make you feel like living every day as if it were a vacation
gemini // feels like you’re sitting by the campfire and telling scary stories. it feels like making out at midnight sitting on the roof. it feels like receiving a fancy christmas card. they will make you feel like living every day as if it were the first page of a story.
cancer // feels like wearing warm mittens. it feels like sitting by the fireplace with hot cocoa. it feels like having someone there to hold back your hair when you’re drunk. they will make you feel like living every day as if it were a valuable treasure.
leo // feels like sitting on top of a throne. it feels like spraying on the fanciest perfume/cologne. it feels like looking at old photo albums and crying with happiness and sadness at the same time. they will make you feel like living every day as if you were royalty.
virgo // feels like understanding a complex problem. it feels like cleaning out the dustiest corners of the house. it feels like throwing snowballs at each other on a snowy day. they will make you feel like living every day slowly and simplistically.
libra // feels like a warm touch. it feels like giving each other knowing glances in class. it feels like trying to cook each other breakfast. they will make you feel like living every day without knowing what stress is
scorpio // feels like sitting in a sauna for a few minutes and then stepping out in the cold. it feels like trying to see who can wink better. it feels like painting your nails and looking hot to go to a grocery store. they will make you feel like living every day observantly.
sagittarius // feels like going on a road trip on a hot summer day. it feels like screaming out the lyrics to your favorite throwback songs. it feels like going on a safari tour. they will make you feel like living every day like a new adventure, discovering things no one else had before
capricorn // feels like catching snowflakes on your tongue. it feels like building a treehouse and inviting your friends over. it feels like flipping the pages of an old book with coffee stains on it. they will make you feel like living every day carefully or you might miss the little things
aquarius // feels like taking pictures of neon signs. it feels like getting chips from 7/11 and falling in love on the curb. it feels like singing with the windows down at midnight. they will make you feel like living every day differently than the day before
pisces // feels like petting kittens and puppies. it feels like bundling up in cozy blankets. it feels like living in a cabin and watching the snow coat the evergreen trees. they will make you feel like living every day with relaxation.
Request (@bolieve-that): Have you got a masterlist with links ???? I love your writing ❤️️
* means that it is one of the top three most popular posts I have (in the case of Derek’s it’s the most popular)
Spencer Reid: Blizzard - The BAU loses power and gets snowed in due to a massive blizzard outside. Rather than sitting around and freezing you stand by the door looking out at the snow only to be joined by Spencer who ends up catching snowflakes together on your tongues.
Bad Apple - You and the rest of the BAU have a case in a small city and while you are setting up at the local police department you have a run in with a sexist cop and Spencer shows up and defends you.
Soulmates - A longer write up of the imagine of “Imagine Spencer Reid not believing in soulmates but he is proven wrong when he first meets you”.
Atheist - You get kidnapped by an unsub who believes he is God and tortures you. Then right before he is about to kill you Spencer and the rest of the team barge in and Spencer talks him down from taking your life and turning you into one of his angels.
Turbulence - You hate planes and when the BAU’s private jet get caught up in rough turbulence Spencer helps you get through it.
Calm - After Prentiss “dies” Spencer shows up to your house the night after her funeral and comes to you for comfort.
Treat You Better - You are in an abusive relationship and one day when you come in you don’t realize one of your bruises is visible. While no one else notices, Spencer notices right away and pulls you out into the hallway and tells you how he could treat you better than your abusive boyfriend can.
Man in the Mug Shot - You have to go undercover in a club to lure the unsub out into an ally for SWAT and the BAU to catch him. While you have to act flirty and get the unsub to want to come home with you, Spencer is gritting his teeth the entire time while he watches on from the van parked in the ally.
Quarter - Spencer teaches you the quarter trick where you roll a coin on top of your fingers (I don’t think I explained that well lol).
Dim Light- You get kidnapped by the unsub and tortured and right before he is about to rape you (warning) the SWAT and BAU bursts in and stops him. You pass out and when you wake up Spencer is in your hospital room watching over you.
Making it Easier - This is a link to a smaller list with links for a mini series I did! This list includes links to Captive (Part One) which is when the reader gets kidnapped by the unsub and there is a race against time to get her back, Held (Part Two) which is when Spencer helps you deal with nightmares you begin to have after the incident with unsub, and Craving (Part Three) which is after a night of Spencer helping you deal with a nightmare and the two of you wake up together.
Breakthrough - You and Spencer have a breakthrough conversation during a case and the other team members can’t help but listen in and find it cute.
Plane Rides* - You and Spencer fall asleep on the private jet together on the way back from a case.
Sleepy Head - You and Spencer live together and you two love to have night time talks together before falling asleep. This is one of your night time talks.
Interview* - You and Reid were put in charge of interviewing the grandmother of a victim, however are both surprised at what goes down, especially when your friendship turns into a little more than a friendship in a split second.
King Me - On the flight back home after a high stress case, you and Morgan end up playing a game of checkers. Let’s just say it gets so interesting that even Reid puts down his book and looks one, even he gets stuck up on some moves.
Murder Chat* - You and Spencer have an interesting conversation one night while your both finishing paperwork revolving around your last case.
IQ to Match- Reid never thought much of the possibility that someone could be smarter then him. Obviously their were the worlds geniuses that passed him mentally, but he never expected the person who he was sitting next to on the BAU private jet to out him.
Derek Morgan: Memories - After a long day in court the man you were trying to save gets put away for good. When you return to your shared apartment with Derek you finally break down from all the stress and exhaustion the case brought you.
Surgery - You get shot while out on the field and Derek stays with you while you’re in the hospital all the way until you are about to go into the OR.
Home Sweet Home* - You are right in the middle of a case where you and the rest of the group is being targeted, so for extra safety, you all pair up and spend the night at one another house and you just so happen to get to be sleepover pals with Derek.
-Imagine Logan finally being in his beloved Canada to live out the rest of his days
-Imagine Laura’s reaction to snow. The way she’d spin around, facing the heavens with her tongue sticking out, trying to catch the delicate snowflakes
-Imagine Caliban wearing an oversized fluffy sweater, hot cup of tea in hand sitting by a fire
-Imagine Charles blowing out birthday candles on the lumpy, misshapen cake Laura insisted on making all by herself
-Imagine Logan waking up at night and realizing he’s finally safe
-Imagine, on his good days, Charles telling Laura stories of days long since past, pride beaming on his face
-Imagine, on his bad days, Laura being the only one who can calm him
-Imagine Caliban teaching Laura how to make pancakes and even when she makes a bloody mess, he still praises her on a job well done
-Imagine Logan choking down said pancakes; some burnt, some still raw in the center, and some hardly identifiable as pancakes, and telling her they were the best he’s ever had
-Imagine Laura laying in the grass, barefoot, face smudged with dirt, giggling to herself as she describes in her mind the animals/objects she sees in the clouds to Charles while he’s inside laying in bed.
-Imagine Laura picking flowers for the first time
-Imagine Caliban setting a vase full of weeds and other foliage on the dinner table because he’ll be damned if he’s going to tell her they’re not flowers
-Imagine Logan reading to Charles at night after dinner
-Imagine family dinners, just the four of them
-Imagine Logan having to repeatedly tell Laura to stop touching every goddam thing in the supermarket, as they both give each other the stink eye, but pretending to not notice the package of cookies she slipped in the basket
-Imagine A Daddy/Daughter fishing trip that ends up with them both splashing in the water
-Imagine Caliban scolding them both because they wore their muddy boots in the house AGAIN, and he just mopped earlier that morning thank you very much!
-Imagine Charles falling asleep in a warm bed with his heart full of hope because there are new mutants in the world
Gryffindor: spontaneous snowball fights, the smell of cinnamon pine cones, obnoxiously blasting “all i want for christmas is you”, strings of popcorn on the tree, shreds of wrapping paper on the floor, getting tangled in twinkle lights, slipping on the ice, chasing people with mistletoe, laughing with tinsel in your hair, eating sloppy christmas cookies with a milk mustache and icing-stained fingers
Hufflepuff: piling marshmallows into hot cocoa, fuzzy socks, catching snowflakes on your tongue, crackling fireplace, sitting on santa’s lap, the smell of warm vanilla, jingle bells, freshly baked cookies, the christmas radio station playing in the background, door-to-door caroling, bulging stockings, lights reflected in the eyes of wonderstruck children, the happy sleepy feeling when Christmas day finally comes to a close
Ravenclaw: crisp sprigs of holly, white lights with red bows, the smell of cold air, the glitter of department store holiday displays, a quiet nativity scene, smooth blankets of powdery snow, neatly wrapped gifts with elegant bows, the chill of peppermint in your mouth, the fizzle and clink of champagne glasses, the smell of the heat when it kicks on
Slytherin: sucking on a candy cane until it gets sharp, the smell of pine trees, strategically placed mistletoe, the crunch of the snow under your feet, eggnog, carol of the bells, garland wrapped around the banister, dark chocolate truffles, flickering candles, the zing of the scissors when you curl ribbon, sitting in the dark with just the glow of the christmas tree
AN: I’m back and so are the fanfictions!!! Yay!!! So this is a theoretical fic, and it’s just a short, simple, sweet one shot. It’s about what I think could possibly have happened if Feyre and Tamlin had never crossed paths. In this fic, Rhys and the other High Lords figured out Hybern’s plans before it was too late and managed to defeat him before he ever even sent Amarantha. I fudged with the timeline a bit for the story’s sake, so bear with me.
But this is how I think Rhys and Feyre could have met, if that curse had never been cast in the first place. Enjoy!!!
Tamlin was an idiot.
A powerful idiot, whose mildly horrifying shapeshifting abilities somehow won him the hearts of half the females in his court, but an idiot nonetheless.
Rhysand shook his head as he stalked through the snow, the blanketed trees around him hushed as they listened to the song of winter. Even as his breath clouded before him, his shields kept the cold from settling deep in his bones, kept the ice from even touching his skin. He was almost tempted to drop them, to let winter kiss his spring-flushed body, if only it meant feeling a little bit closer to home. He glanced up at the moon through the bare trees, scratching the back of his neck as he pushed through the silent forest.
He never should have agreed to this, never should have agreed to come to the Spring Court. It was only for a few months, he tried to remind himself at night when he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling wishing he was back in the Night Court. Wishing the bricks were moonstone and the roses were jasmine. Only a few months to finalize the details of Hybern’s demise and capture. And it wasn’t like he was the only High Lord out of his place. Every other High Lord of Prythian was staying at the Spring Court, dividing spoils of war, establishing an overseas governance to ensure that Hybern would never again try and demolish Prythian.
To ensure that the humans on the other side of the wall remained safe, unaware of how close they had come to enslavement. Again.
Summary: You have seen Bucky Barnes at his best and his worst, and he asks you to help him through it all.
Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY; lots of smut, go no further if you’re not over 18 please.
I’ve had so many amazing comments from you lovely people about these stories, and it genuinely makes my day hearing from each and everyone one of you, so thank you from the bottom of my heart! I’ve really loved writing this mini-series, and I appreciate you guys sticking around while I take off the smut training wheels. Final chapter below, and tried to tag those who have requested it, but Tumblr is not cooperating, so hope it works. Also apparently I’m super wordy, so this is kinda long. Oops. Feedback and comments are always welcome.
It was a text you didn’t expect, if only because he was not a demonstrative person when it came to the written word. He was always perfunctory, preferring to send an image or a three word answer, not because he didn’t enjoy talking to you, but simply because that’s who he was. He expressed his emotions in a multitude of other ways, saving his syllables to whisper in your ear when he was wrapped inside you, murmuring his feelings into your sweaty skin every time you brought him to his knees.
It doesn’t come often, but here it was, the Bucky Barnes you always wait to see. You think this must be him, the real him, James Buchanan Barnes, the sweet, flirty, cocky boy who was so sure of himself and his place in the world, before he became a man carved up and torn apart, remade by the chaos of war.
I was so enchanted by the person I thought you were that I was blind to the person you really are.
I thought you were a winter wonderland, but when I stuck out my tongue to catch a snowflake all I could taste was soap and lies.