liquid honey

Burying The Child - Feyre Fanfic

A Feyre character exploration fanfiction. Set post ACOMAF in the spring court, with Lucien for company. Warnings for discussion of mental health and grieving.

Burying The Child - Gen/K

History was once again repeating itself, but this time I was different; I would not make the same mistakes as I had before. I doubted I could even if I wanted to. Fate and its sick sense of humour had warped me too much for that.

“I remember when Tamlin first bought you those paints,” Lucien mused. “You sat in here all day for weeks, like a child with a new toy. It was very endearing, really.”

He sat across from me, lounging upon a daybed below a window in the gallery. His body lay splashed with sunlight, turning his hair a gorgeous shade of amber and his bronze skin, exposed by the open-necked shirt he wore, shone like clear liquid honey. One could mistake him for a god were it not for the signs of strain that recent events had carved into him, from his hollow cheeks to his nervous, restless fingers; The latter of which was really quite irksome.

“Stop fidgeting,” I quipped, frowning and biting down on the tip of my tongue. “I’ll never be able to get you right if you keep moving. Honestly, and you compare me to a child.”

“I do have a few years on you, fair lady.”

“That only makes it worse.”

Lucien managed to still himself for a rather pathetic minute before his forefinger resumed their tapping upon his thigh, but I made no comment. The back and forth bitching we’d developed when I’d first arrived at the Spring Court had now evolved beyond the antipathy and mourning we’d shared. He no longer held the death of Andras against me, and I in turn agreed not to speak of what had passed here whilst I was at the Night Court. This silent agreement meant we were both more comfortable in sharing quiet moments together, knowing neither would verbally assault the other. In a case of mutually assured destruction, we both knew the wounds such talk would inflict could scar us both.

“I can’t believe it’s only been a year since we first met,” Lucien said, his gaze fixed out the window at the surrounding gardens. “Only a year since we were all prisoners. Or, a year since we were able to admit to it aloud.”

He was breaching dangerous territory, but I’d long stopped being scared by it. It had only been two months since my return to Spring, and yet it was already apparent to me that no one save Tamlin and Ianthe thought the deal with Hybern was wise. Since the High Lord and his Priestess were out on a ride that day, I saw no harm in letting Lucien say whatever it was that was bothering him.

“Missing Amarantha, are we?”

“Oh, dreadfully,” Lucien said, playing along with a theatrical swoon. He laughed when I scolded him for shifting his position. Though I had come to see Lucien as an ally, I could never come to like his laugh. It always spoke of so much pain. “What can I say? She kept Tamlin occupied. He does so love to have an enemy.”

Finished sketching, I took up mixing up the colours I needed on the paint palette. “He’s a fool for choosing Rhysand as his new target,” I said quietly, struggling to get the right skin tone. There would be time to learn proper painting technique, if only I could survive the war. The past year had been spent fashioning me into a weapon, no time for games. Who I was had been carved into steel and fire and power, so that I was more a what than a whom to the world now. Beyond what I had briefly shared with Rhys, I had not known softness in a long time.

“If what you say about the Night Court is true, I don’t doubt it.” Lucien looked over at me, his metal eye as unnerving as ever. Still I had not dared to ask just what it allowed him to see, but I felt as if it could somehow discern the contents of my soul.

He chewed the inside of his cheek whilst I distracted myself with mixing paint, before he finally spoke, “You’ve changed so much, Feyre.” He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “I must admit, I’m impressed by who you have become. Even if Rhysand did not exist, I’d hate to make a foe of you. So forgive me when I say I am also in mourning.”

Cocking my head, I finally had the courage to look back at him. Did he speak of Elain now? “Mourning whom?” I asked. The smile he gave me hurt as much as the two months apart from Rhysand had. It spoke of pity, pity I could not bear.

“I am in mourning for a close friend. A friend I made under Amarantha’s rule. A human girl, who came here with childish anger, who could be made happy and placid by nothing more than paint. A girl who screamed and cried and didn’t know any better than to wander out at night on Calanmai, and who could fall in love even with a Beast.” He did not drop my gaze. “I grieve for you too, for losing her. I’m sorry you can’t be her any more.”

He’d spoken so softly, so quietly, that we both flinched when I snapped my paintbrush in half. Claws edged out of my knuckles, my grip too tight. I was still learning the depths of my new strength, though I didn’t care as anger flashed upon my tongue. “Don’t be,” I hissed, snatching a fresh brush and ramming it in the prepared paint to coat it. “She was a stupid, foolish little victim who knew no better.”

“That, fair Feyre,” Lucien said, back to looking out at the gardens, “is exactly why I mourn for you.”

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They are the fireworks you feel in your chest,
They are the warmth in your heart,
They are passionate fire you feel in you’re soul,
They are the galactic bruises on your knuckles

They are the lips you feel on your icy neck,
They are the warm liquid honey that pool in your brown eyes,
They are the skipping stones that you throw across the pond,
They are the soft skin you crave to caress at 4:08 am

They are the beautiful chime in your laughter,
They are polish on your nails made of roses,
They are the smell of lavender and sunflower on your skin,
They are the butterflies coming out of their cocoon in your stomach

They are the salty tears that are dried against your cheeks,
They are the gentle smile that rests on your lips,
They are the snow white scars dusted across your body like snowflakes,

They are you’re glowing warm suntan in the summer,
They are the gems that glisten in your eyes,
They are the unconditional love you feel brewing inside you,
They are the soft kiss planted across your cheek

They are the eyelashes feathering against your neck as your hugging someone,
They are you’re scribbled handwriting when you’re writing poetry,
They are the crystal clear vodka the trickles smoothly down your throat when you’re feeling alone

They are the soft flowers braided in your hair,
They are the snowflakes the melt on your lips,
They are the oil paint that dries on your gentle hands,
They are the reflection of how beautiful you are,

They are your demons lurking in the corners of your mind,
They the quiet stars that are sprinkled in your eyes,
They are your first bubble of laughter after crying,
They are the feeling of victory rising inside of you,

They are the wind of freedom blowing through your veins,
They are your fingers dancing on top of the piano keys,
They are your firm and comforting embrace,
They are the fire burning behind your soul

They the rain that your angel weeps when you’ve been hurt,
They are the fingertips stroking along your skin,
They are hardness of steal, but soft as satin that is burried inside you 
They are the definition of your inner strength

They are the alien from your past life,
They are the tattoo inked across your defined back,
They are the raw, real, and human part of you,
They are also the cold, distant, non human part of you

They are the koi fish that swim in the pit of your stomach to stir emotion inside of you,
They are the watercolor paint you cry
They are the beautiful art that you are
They are your gentle sleepy kisses at 3 in the morning.

—  The signs as beautiful things about you
Potions - Warm Night

Originally posted by butteryplanet

Hi witches! 

Who doesn’t love a warm, steaming, insanely sweet hot chocolate? This one will radiate happiness and comfort.

let’s get started shall we ?

For this cup of heaven you will need

              • milk / powder chocolate / powder cappucino / honey / acacia honey / vanilla honey / vanilla sugar / vanilla extract / cream & sprinkles !

how to ?

     • fill one half of the mug with milk and the other half with cream, mix it slowly while pouring happiness and warm feelings into it.

• drop one spoon of each honey and mix, imagine the honey being liquid sunshine.

• then drop half a spoon of vanilla sugar and three drops of vanilla extract. mix.

• put it in the microwave for one minute and thirty seconds.

• take it out and add the chocolate and the cappucino powders. 

• stir and sprinkle the sprinkles on it.

It’s done !
Enjoy this calming drink !


This has been in the works for months and months. I simply haven’t had the inspiration nor the time to write honestly. It’s not my best writing, but I tried to get myself back into things. I’ve missed writing and you guys

Warning: SMUT

Length: 7,000+ words

               It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. Those sweet lips of his shouldn’t have been so bitter. Those eyes weren’t supposed to be so dark.

               To be fair, tonight was the one night that everyone could be whoever they wanted to. You had just fallen for his innocent ploy. How were you supposed to know those wings of his were real?

               It was Halloween. The sky was blackened and overcast, consuming the moon’s light. Careful of the brisk cold, you chose a costume that allowed for you to cover up well. Your long white dress dragged against the concrete even though you were wearing high heels. Your friend pulled you along, rushing you as if you were terribly late. There was still plenty of time though. You had all night.

               Someone had rented a club to throw a party. You had no idea who, but apparently they were a friend of a friend and that meant that you had somehow received a gorgeous black invitation with loopy orange lettering. Not one to refuse an opportunity to be someone else for a few hours, you graciously accepted and now you were trying to navigate through the gray fog covering the venue’s floor without stepping on anyone’s feet.

               There were more people here than you had expected and though you had entered holding your friend’s hand, she was suddenly nowhere to be found. The sea of masks made it near impossible to search for her. However, you weren’t too concerned. You would end up crossing paths again at some point.

               You decided to hold the hem of your gown as you strolled to make sure you didn’t trip as the ground was virtually undetectable under the man-made smoke. Hoisting yourself up onto a stool by the bar, you got your bearing as you sat and observed. The club was eerily beautiful with glass chandeliers casting a blue tinted glow on the shimmering onyx walls and floors.

               A tap on your shoulder startled you out of your awe. Spinning in your seat, you came face to face with the bartender. He wore a cape and fake elongated canine teeth for a vampire feel. He wanted to know if you wanted a drink.

               The corners of your lips upturned. In fact, you did. “Could you make something that goes with my costume?” you asked playfully.

               He smiled at your request but his white contact lenses made the expression seem sinister. “Anything for an angel,” he replied flirtily.

               You were grateful that he could tell your intended guise as you weren’t wearing fake wings. But to be fair, you had your back to him earlier, so maybe he has caught sight of the huge black wings tattooed on your skin. Though your white dress had long sleeves and was floor length, it was also totally backless. It exposed your ink well. If your gold halo didn’t give away what you were attempting, a good look at your back would.

               The bartender came back with something bubbling in a wine glass with flecks of gold leaf floating the in honey-colored liquid.

               “What is it?” you inquired as you handed the handsome blood sucker a bill.

               “Unicorn blood,” he answered with a wink.

               You appreciated his cleverness in the choice. Wiggling your fingers in farewell, you stood to leave.

               “Come back for some Hell Fire,” he called after you. You nodded without looking back and made no promises.

               Taking a sip from your glass, you were pleasantly surprised by the taste of passion fruit mixed with champagne. The sweetness cut the bitterness and the carbonation lightened the thickness of the juice. You really were going to have to return for that Hell Fire if it was anything like this.

               A firm hand gripped your elbow and you whipped around so fast that you almost spilled your cocktail. It was your friend, looking sexier than before in her police woman outfit now that she was sweating a little. She had found the dance floor without you and had even found herself a Joker to sway with. Kindly, he accepted you as an adoption to their duo and you danced with your friend as she danced with the both of you.

               Draining your Unicorn’s blood after a few songs, you decided to leave your friend to her criminal and sought out the bar again. There was a line this time and you secured yourself a small section of counter to lean against as you waited. You draped your hair to one side as you could feel the alcohol and dancing warm you from the inside. Not wanting your makeup to melt just yet, you fanned yourself with your hands. The gold bangles that adorned your wrists tinkled musically loud enough to catch the bartender’s attention. He flashed his fangs at you teasingly as he mixed a margarita.

               You were mid-chuckle when you felt a chill crawl up your spine. Goose bumps erupted on your arms and you searched for the cause. Eyes darting around, you caught sight of a tall man dressed in all black staring at you from across the room. He stood completely still even as you locked eyes. You couldn’t read his expression as an elegant mask made of lace obscured half of his face. The fabric was a stunning shade of crimson, which was at complete odds with his charcoal suit. But it did have the benefit of drawing your interest straight to his eyes, which were piercing.

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Jealousy and Firewhisky

Request: “Hello I was wandering if you could write a Sirius x reader where like all the marauders and y/n are drinking but concious and Sirius is really drunk and can’t take it anymore and so confesses his love to the reader and everyone is like surprised but kind of knew💖💖💖💖💖thank you”

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: implied smuuuut & alcohol 

Originally posted by belandsx

You sat cross legged, taking yet another swig from the bottle of Firewhisky while James rounded up the last of the partygoers, shooing them out the door. Sirius haphazardly snatched up the bottle from you, tutting with a wild giggle.

“You’ve had enough (Y/n).” He stated, ending in a hiccup.

“Speak for yourself!” You snorted. “You can barely sit without toppling over.”

“That’s the last of them.” Peter huffed, taking a seat beside you, soon to be joined with James.

“I’d call that party a success, what do you think Moony?” James eyed the boy who was already climbing up the stairs to their dorm.

“Yeah, great.” Remus answered through a yawn. “I’m going to pass out. I have an early potions class tomorrow.”

“You’re so boring.” Sirius shouted at his friend with an easy smile.

“Boring, and getting better grades than you Padfoot.” Remus reminded, disappearing up the stairs.

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Summer Winds spell for Patience

The Summer Solstice is coming up, and that means that it’s time to kick back and enjoy a day in the sun. For some, the solstice is about community, or love, and all the warmth that summer can bring. For me, it’s about relaxation and waiting. You’ve sown the seeds, and soon the time will come to reap them. In the meantime, it’s time to relax. 

Life is hectic, but summer is a time for freedom and patience combined; for people like me, though, waiting is one of the hardest things you can do. Here’s a spell to help. This doesn’t need to be a solstice/midsummer spell, but I’m certainly using it as one! 

What You’ll Need: 

  • The sun (through a window, by going outside, w/e)
  • Gold yarn/string
  • Dandelion (fluffy)

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A/N: This turned out unexpectedly long, holy moly! I am not sure if I like it, everything seemed much cooler in my head.. It’s inspired by the picture you see below. (Source)

Summary: It’s a game, a silly game that you had developed by not wiping away the foam on your lips.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 4367

Warnings: none. It’s fluff

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So, I met a boy.
I met a boy when he asked to borrow my lighter even though he had one, anyway.

I met a boy with irises akin to liquid gold and honey;
Who doesn’t think his eyes are pretty but I can’t think of anything more spectacular.

I met a boy who let me borrow his T-shirt;
Who says he trusts me.
I met a boy who bought me five dollar wine;
Who called me strong.

I met a boy with thick, dark hair;
A burning gaze, soft skin.
Strong, capable arms;
Captivating presence.

I met a boy.
I met a boy.

This is bad.

Seth Rollins | Happier

Title: Happier

Pairing: Seth Rollins/OFC

Summary: “…I knew one day you’d fall for someone new.”

Words: 2,646

Warnings: Past infidelity; Angsty Angst.

A/N: I wrote this based heavily on Ed Sheeran’s “Happier” from his new album Divide. I hope you lovelies enjoy this sort of upsetting little fic.

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She was like satin and lace. She felt so fucking good in between my finger tips. Her tongue felt like silk when it was gliding up my neck and her teeth felt like nirvana as they grazed against the underside of my jaw. The way her fingers traced patterns on my hip bones and her sighs landed on my collarbones. I wanted to feel her against my chest. Wanted to feel her body pressed against mine until the heat between our skin lit us on fire and burned us to the ground.

She made me want her body more than I wanted to fucking breathe. A parched man who needed her lips on mine like she was the god damn amazon river. She made my body arch like electricity was running through my veins. Panting like I’d run 5 miles just so I could taste the back of her shoulder blade.
She made me crave her while I was in bed alone, staring at the blackness of the ceiling and pretending it was the sky.

But it wasn’t just her body, it was her fucking mind. She was brilliance in the most beautiful form. The way her eyes relaxed when she talked about earth. She spoke like a trucker but my God, the sound of her voice wrapped around those curse words made my fucking bones quiver. She’d snap and snarl at me just to see my face contort in shock. When she spoke, she spoke of politics and science and the book she read last Sunday. Her mind was tinged purple but her vocal cords red. And her laugh, oh God her laugh was liquid honey, I’m surprised she didn’t drown in it. She was everything I needed. Dramatic, exotic.

She made me fall in love with everything she was and then she left. She drifted away like gravity had been turned off and she’d always wanted to visit outer space. She put her shirt back on then wouldn’t call me for almost fifteen days. She didn’t want my love, wasn’t looking for it in the dark corners of my mind. She didn’t want to hold my hand or meet my family. She wanted me kiss her breathless then erase the image of her from the back of my eyelids.

She’s is the most desired creature and she couldn’t care any fucking less.

A little bit of sugar

(but lots of poison too)

Originally posted by fyeahbangtaned

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Noir / Angst / One-shot

Rated T for mentions of death and obsession

Word count: 4.8k

Synopsis: Namjoon is well aware that some, well actually most people could find his hobby not exactly common, yet he still considers himself to be a man of tasteful words and higher intellect - someone who managed to understand the true, deepest meaning of beauty itself.

And so he doesn’t really care if his methods of collecting pretty things end up being darker that expected, once you peek under the surface.

Author’s note: Oh my, my first fic for Namjoon, ah I’m a bit nervous, also I need to thank @pantaemonium, @meetevil and @yoongihime for dealing so much with me and my existential crisis about this ;^;

Again, I may or may not have added a decent amount of craziness and creepiness and other yummy things, so please be careful pals!! Hope you’ll like it tho <3

Namjoon likes to collect pretty things.

He doesn’t know when his passion started, maybe it was that time when he was five years and a half and his mother’s pearls looked so shiny and white around the pale curve of her neck – long fingers always skimming the gleaming necklace, stopping their adoring motions just to slap his chubby, longing hands away.

Good children do not touch their mother’s jewels, Namjoon, she used to warn, strict voice and even stricter lips in their tight curl.

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Whether We Wake or Sleep part 7

Part One     Part Two     Part Three     Part Four   Part Five     Part Six

On AO3

Word Count: approx 11K+   Rating: Teen & Up  (Will be Mature or Explicit in later chapters)

Summary: A canon-divergence set after Killian and Emma return to Rumpelstiltskin’s castle, an expanded epic Captain Swan adventure. Killian and Emma must work to break a new curse, one with an unsettling timeline, and align themselves with friends and foes alike. 

Notes: My everlasting and undying love to my instrumental wife @caprelloidea​ for the read through and the expert beta. And my love to Mandy @thesschesthair​ for my beautiful banner that always makes me smile. 


Maleficent’s answering smile was every bit the reptilian creature that lurked beneath the bubblegum and lollipop exterior before them. She paused for a moment, twirling the bottle idly in her hand.

“My sleeping curse requires a very rare and difficult to procure ingredient. One that is out of my reach now. But if you want more of this potion, then you two will need to fetch it for me.”

Killian slouched, indolent, his eyes already rolling. Emma could tell though, by the set of his jaw, the faint white of his knuckles as he gripped his belt, that he was far more on edge than he appeared, deliberately not looking at her again.

“I’m sure it will be just as simple as popping down to the village market. We’ll make a day of it,” the false cheer and wide blue eyes had unease stirring in her stomach. The arrogant pirate captain of old making an appearance never boded well, brought out when things were particularly dire, when he had few other options at his disposal, but rarely was it because of her decision. It was clear he didn’t want her to take this path and it seemed wrong to have him doubt her, to not have his full support.

“Not quite,” Maleficent was all teeth.

“What fearsome hell creature are we to slay then?” Killian asked. “Or is this an errand of the rob and run variety?”

“Nothing quite so dire,” Maleficent eyed the pair of them. “Have you heard of the Forest Mother?”

Emma and Killian both said “No” in unison but where Emma’s was an answer to the question, Killian’s was a firm declaration of intent. Maleficent’s eyes danced at him.

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heaven, my hell (tom holland imagine/one shot)

He has his right hand wrapped around the white ceramic mug.

I think he is about to take a sip but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even look up.

I try to capture his attention-move a little to my right, adjust the collar of my shirt so he can see that the necklace he gave me a lifetime ago still hangs around my neck and settles between my collarbones.

He adjusts his cap, lowering it so that his eyes are hidden behind shadows.

I wait.

I wait for him to understand. I wait for him to speak. I wait for him to realise that I loved him but I wasn’t in love with him anymore.

He jerks a hand up hastily to wipe away at his eyes and I feel it in my bones.

I hurt him so much-I can see it.

“So, what now?”

I don’t know, is the truth.

But what I say isn’t.

“You need to move on, Tom.”

I look up from where my eyes have been glued to the table in front of us. Only, I find him staring at me like I’d just asked him to do the most impossible thing in the history of impossible things.

“I can’t do that.”

He says curtly. I can see his strong jaw clench, trying hard to balance his anger and his sadness.

His hands are on the table too and I risk it-reaching out to take them in mine.

He freezes and I’m afraid he will pull away.

But he doesn’t.


He just looks betrayed.

He looks defeated.

I lick my lips and swallow hard, trying to keep the emotions building up inside me from spilling out.

But his brown eyes look liquid gold mixed in honey and saffron in the sunlight by the window where we sit.

The tufts of hair peeking out from beneath of his cap glint different shades of bronze and red and eventually settle on being a glistening brown.

And he tries so hard to hide it-tries so hard to not let me notice but his soft, pink lips are quivering.

And I hate it.

I hate what I am doing.

But there is no other way.

I sigh quietly and gather my things. Tom is watching me, I’m sure. I know he is. I know he wants more than what I’m offering. I know he wants a reason. If it was me, I would want closure too.

But I offer him none.

Instead, I tug on my backpack and in the most nonchalant, robotic voice I can manage, I say the words that change our lives for the rest of time.

“I don’t love you anymore, Tom.”

a/n:  some more Tom stuff for y'all.

I’m feeling a lot better about my writer’s block. I mean, it’s not gone completely but I’m having a good time writing these small imagines.

based loosely on “quit” by cashmere cat ft. ariana grande

If you guys wanna send me requests, please feel free!

enjoy xx NK

Negan Boss AU

Porn without Plot

Negan’s POV

Words: 4526

Characters: Negan x Chrissy OC, Simon, Dwight, Maggie, Male OC

Warnings: Smut, Oral, Dominant Negan, Cum, Negan being Negan, Torture of a secondary character, unprotected sex. 

Negan spotted her the second she entered his club. The elevated position of his office gave him the perfect view of her. It was hard to miss the body-skimming dress and sexy black heels she wore. But what really pulled at his attention was the strands of dark hair that cascaded down her back in a silky sheet. Her skin seemed to glow in the low light and even from across the seething mass of dancing people, he saw her eyes were as pale as chips of ice.

 Next to her stood a tall, insipid looking man with choppy brown hair and nervous hands. As Negan watched, he placed the tips of his fingers to the small of her back and ushered her towards the bar. She complied, but Negan thought he saw a hint of annoyance about her features.

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Pairing: Cullen X Cressida Trevelyan
Rating: SFW
Tags: Fluff/Minor Angst

Summary: Cullen reflects on his families history and how he obtained his famous lion helm.

Cullen never really liked his grandfather’s helm. It was clearly made for an Orlesian noble not some poor farmer’s son. Shame could not describe the conflicted feelings Cullen held about being a quarter Orlesian.

Cullen’s grandfather was the only noble from Orlais to defect to the rebellion once Maric Theirin took control of Fereldan forces. Cullen and his siblings never understood why their grandfather left the wealth and comfort of Orlesian nobility to fight along side a rebel king. It was a mystery that followed the man to his grave. Now, Cullen possessed the helmet that had given the old man the nickname the Lion of Fereldan.

On the trek from Kirkwall to Haven, Cullen decided to stop at his long abandoned home in Honnleath. There in the middle of overgrown farmland near a lake barely visible through the bramble was his family home The family home to that now stood as a makeshift tomb for his grandfather.

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