rachel creates with words

well, there are the monsters
with foam at the gums,
with quivering jowls
and snapping teeth

well, there are the monsters
that live under the bed
in the dark recesses
of your imagination

well, there are the monsters
with slitted pupils
and blood on their lips,
who screech and roar

well, there are the monsters
that live inside your head
that are there
when you close your eyes

they are screams and violence.
they are death and destruction.

those monsters are the scariest
because you cannot escape them.
you cannot turn on a light
or walk away.

they are real
and they are a part of
—  adjustments to civilian life: snapshots of bucky barnes

he’ll rip your lungs out, bucky
or, the one where steve gets bitten by a werewolf
–the partner to this amazingly adorable comic by the talented @suitfer!

“Lycanthropy,” Natasha clarifies, scratching under Steve’s chin before turning around.


“He’s a werewolf,” Sam says, smoothing a hand over Steve’s ears. “Now, at least. That bite means he was bitten.”


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lay us down

“You know why I love you?”

It’s quiet, but almost seems too loud. Steve looks over, head lolling on the pillow as he squints in Bucky’s direction. The late evening does little to illuminate their room, but neither want to get up to turn on the light. As it is, he can still make out the outline and most of Bucky, shirtless, propped against the headboard with the sheets falling dangerously low on his bare waist. It makes Steve’s tired body ache to get close again.


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i do these things (it’s all because of you)–or, the civil war mid-credits scene fix-it fic that we all desperately need.

It’s just misty enough outside to mirror the foggy, clouded feeling that’s been plaguing Steve since the bunker. He stares out the window as the doctors tend to Bucky, patching up what’s left of his arm and talking in low voices that carry like the rumble of distant thunder. Wakanda is beautiful, lush green with sprawling mountains, and Steve almost never wants to leave. Wonders how easy it’d be to make a new life here, to disappear off the map for good.

There was a time when he thought that getting out of the ice might have been a good thing. Now that time is in the rearview mirror, getting smaller and smaller at each wince that Bucky lets out and each blankly distant stare he gives to the wall. The repercussions of the job have always been known to Steve, but he never thought that he’d be seeing them on the person that means the most.

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imagine steve and bucky escaping to the mountains. no civil war. imagine them canoeing on the lake, nothing but them and the slosh of water around their oars and their boat, the call of the loon distant and echoing. steve turning around every so often, like he still can’t believe that bucky is there, that he’s so lucky. imagine bucky pressing steve against the wall of their cabin, the setting sun shining on them. bucky kissing steve’s noises away, his metal hand gouging holes into the wood. steve laughing when he sees them, and it makes bucky laugh, too, and they kiss and laugh, young again, before stripping completely and running into the lake: bucky first, then steve.

imagine early mornings, frost still on the grass, the edges of the water glinting ice in the sunlight. both of them clad in denim jackets and cozy flannel, drinking steaming coffee with their hands intertwined on the porch railing. bucky looking over at steve and smiling, saying, “i love you,” a little forlorn like he’s making up for the seventy years he couldn’t say it. steve smiling back, setting his coffee down on the railing and cupping bucky’s jaw with his hand. saying, “i love you, too,” the warmth of his palm the warmest bucky’s felt in a long time. steve leaning in to let their noses brush, their lips, before properly kissing him and sliding his fingers into bucky’s hair. imagine steve pinning bucky to the rug on the hearth, clasping their hands together while the fire plays over them, flesh-and-metal, as they move together, unhurried, like the world is theirs.

and maybe it is: maybe time slows down for them, two lovers who could have been star-crossed but sidestepped it. maybe they deserve it, scratchy wool and the omnipresent smell of soot and smoke. imagine the sun rising and the sun setting. imagine neither of them giving a damn about ever going back, hands clasped on the wood, an entire mountain between them and who they were. there was a time when they would have moved those mountains for each other. now they don’t need to.

D/s AU–Kurt and Blaine are fourteen when they both realize their orientations, and a confession in Kurt’s room during a sleepover leads him to realize that maybe he’s been wrong to hide how he’s felt.


The one thing Kurt looks forward more to than weekly music classes with Ms. Barker are his sleepovers with Blaine every other weekend. On Friday afternoon Kurt can hardly make it through his homeroom, and he keeps glancing anxiously at the clock as its hands seem to be stuck in time. Blaine is in a different homeroom and takes a different bus home, but they usually find time at their lockers to speak before they leave for the day.

When the bell rings Kurt is first out of the classroom, his bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder. It wrinkles and pulls at the sleeve of his brand-new pinstriped oxford, but Kurt doesn’t care. At their locker bank down the hall he sees a head of messy, untamed black curls, and a smile tugs quickly at the corners of his mouth. His stomach begins fluttering, and like usual Kurt tries to tamp it down; his crush on Blaine has been burgeoning ever since they’d come out to each other last summer, and he’s too afraid that it’ll mess everything up if he admits it.

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erotic exploration, adoration—after the engagement, Kurt and Blaine head back to Blaine’s house, where they rediscover their passion and love and talk about just what their forever together might mean.


the prose half of a very special fic/comic collab with the always-wonderful (and supremely talented) Gladys!

Blaine’s house is almost eerily silent compared to the life of the party back at Dalton; Kurt can hear their breaths, can hear the rush of his blood and the beat of his heart, the way it gets faster when Blaine’s hand touches here or his mouth goes there. This is the way that it has always been between them.

“Oh—” he gasps, hands fluttering up to Blaine’s hair when Blaine ghosts over Kurt’s collarbone with slick-smooth lips. Gooseflesh erupts in tiny prickles across the exposed expanse of Kurt’s skin. He’s acutely aware of how naked he is, how naked they both are: when Blaine leans down, kisses across Kurt’s chest, the hot-slick head of his heavy cock drags across Kurt’s abdomen, electric and exciting and so breathtakingly perfect.

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bite your lip, pull me in (how they meet) | (how their first date goes) | (how they become boyfriends) | (how everyone finds out) | (how they’re viewed through another’s eyes) | (how they say “I love you” for the first time) | (how their first morning together goes) | (how Blaine meets the roommate) | (how Blaine meets the parents) | (how their first vacation together goes) | (how they learn a few new things about each other) | (how they finally move in together)

age difference!Klaine—Blaine is 40, Kurt is 19, and this is the story of how their story ends.


The first thing Kurt ever buys for Blaine is candy.

It’s a silly, kitschy thing, something he’s already half-regretting when he steps up to the counter with a nervous, fidgety itch under his skin, like somehow the acne-ridden teenager behind the till can sense that Kurt is buying this for more than just a sweet tooth craving.

But Kurt keeps telling Blaine that he is going to return the favor somehow, even if his source of income usually comes from selling out-of-season designer pieces and the occasional odd job or errand that Isabelle will have him do that result in some under-the-table money from her own pocket. He’s always had trouble accepting gifts, and getting used to his new, well, lifestyle has quickly made him push those reservations aside.

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i’m more than just a product–D/s AU where subs can be sold as pleasure or work slaves. Kurt goes to a slave fair, where he stumbles upon a starving and abused Blaine in mid-punishment.


Kurt Hummel hates when the slave fair comes into town. It’s a public event, which means that everyone can come, and usually everyone does, regardless of whether they can afford a slave or not. There are usually protestors, Doms and subs alike, collared and uncollared, standing just outside the limits. They’re usually ignored. The Doms who swear by sub slaves, the ones who go in and out of these fairs every year with new, trembling subs trailing on a leash behind them, sneer at and ridicule the protesting subs. They pointedly ignore the protesting Doms.

When the fall fair comes, it’s all anyone at school is talking about for days after, and Kurt, already an outcast despite his father’s wealth and prominence, has to bite his tongue against the flood of insults. No one knows that his father is working in secret to try and gather backers to fund a movement that could potentially demolish the demoralizing flood of sub slavery.

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anonymous prompted: You should write a fic about powerbottom!blaine being a /thing/ anonymous prompted: could u pretty please write blaine riding kurt based on the make out from this last ep?

“Kurt, shit—”

“Blaine,” Kurt hisses, trying his best not to start laughing at the loud, unabashed groan that Blaine lets out, “be quiet.” He grips at Blaine’s hips, lifts himself up slightly off the bed as Blaine rocks down on his cock, head tossed back and hands flat on Kurt’s still-clothed chest. They’re both still mostly clothed, actually—their shirts are on, and Kurt’s pants are down to his ankles. Blaine’s are somewhere on the floor, lost and forgotten.

“Don’t care,” Blaine whines, swiveling his hips to grind, slow and languid, like their roommates aren’t thirty feet away in the kitchen with dinner almost on the table and only a flimsy, practically-transparent curtain separating them. “You feel so good.”

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a little more ‘touch me’–When Bucky first proposed it, still twitchy and paranoid and secretive, Steve felt like it was the furthest thing from intimacy. Now, arguably, it’s when he feels closest to Bucky. Because giving up control like this, willingly, speaks volumes to the person that Bucky was when Steve and Sam had finally cornered him.

“You’re trembling,” Steve murmurs.

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monday morning

sub Bucky and Dom Steve–sometimes Bucky needs to shut off. this is the healthiest way.


This is easy. Mechanical. he breathes, lungs expanding and contracting. his heart rate is up. his skin is flushed. his pupils, he knows, will be dilated. his lips are swollen and slick with saliva. The gag stretches them wide, and he tongues at it, muscle sliding slippery over rubber, just to taste it. Ground himself. he shifts, centering his weight. This is easy. This he can do.

The floor is hard under his kneecaps. The pain faded to a dull ache after hour two. The pain, that he can handle. Order through pain. Stuck in his head, drilled there through decades of torture. he flexes his shoulders, the left one whirring quietly as he tests the soft rope binding his wrists behind his back.

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based off of this ask

Kurt’s beginning to wonder when and how all of his and Blaine’s study sessions have turned into “study sessions.” At the beginning of the night they’re both prepared with algebra, English, bio, Spanish, French, and history, and they always get in a good hour or two of honest studying. But eventually it all comes back around to the same thing: making out.

The ceaseless need to touch probably comes with the whole new boyfriend package, but it always catches Kurt off-guard. He’s not used to this want, this simmering under the surface of skin when he looks over and finds Blaine supine on the bed on his belly, legs kicked up in the air and brow furrowed as he stares down at his textbook. Kurt’s not used to the way that his eyes will stray to the curve of Blaine’s ass and the shape of his lips.

It’s terrifying wanting someone as much as Kurt wants Blaine. They don’t fool around much, have never really discussed the idea of clothes actually coming off. Kurt’s secretly glad—as comfortable as he’s gotten, he’s still hesitant to cross that line.

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the way that i want you tonight–after leaving their engagement party, Kurt and Blaine head back to Blaine’s house to make everything a little more…official.


“Are you absolutely sure that your parents won’t be home?“ Kurt asks, worried, for the fifth time since they got out of Blaine’s car. There’s a whole mass of snakes, of something slithery and restless, dancing in his stomach.

Blaine looks up from where he’s twisting his key into the lock on the front door. There’s something indecipherable in his eyes, something smolderingly dark. It makes Kurt gulp, makes his eyes widen round, too round, and he knows that he has that look on his face, that slack-jawed, astounded look.

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i wouldn’t mind the hangingHe thinks, you are not human. Not anymore.
–or, the hair-cutting fic where bucky decides that it’s time to take back control of his life.


Five AM finds him staring at the bathroom mirror.

It’s cold: the apartment is cold, he is cold. It’s like ice on his skin, and he shivers, still entombed in the chaotic ramblings of his nightmares. It feels like his mind is being pulled in a thousand different directions, each one worse than the last, an endless hallway of unlocked doors concealing unimaginable horrors. He feels as if he could shudder apart, right now: one wrong movement and he’ll crumble, scattered over the tile floor.

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anonymous prompted: What if there was a fic of Elliot walking in on klaine having sex in the loft when Blaine comes to visit.

Elliott has tried to remind himself—several times—that it would be a very bad idea to crush on Kurt Hummel. Kurt is blunt, oftentimes to the point of being rude. Kurt demands that the spotlight always be on him and he doesn’t like sharing. Kurt is sometimes selfish. Kurt is engaged and Elliott can’t honestly really even see them dating.

Kurt is…no matter how many reasons Elliott comes up with, he can’t deny the fact that Kurt is hot. As in, maybe the hottest guy that Elliott has ever seen. Hot as in, even though Kurt has stated that he’s engaged and Elliott has seen pictures of this infamous fiancé, he still has troubles keeping his thoughts at night to guys who aren’t, well, Kurt. He’d seen the look he’d gotten at the Spotlight Diner, when he’d shown up without all of his usual theatricality. There had been surprise first on Kurt’s face, then intrigue, and then something else.

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i wanna see the dirt under your skin–Kurt’s curious to know if Blaine squirts. Blaine assures him that he can—a lot.


The question has been on Kurt’s mind all day, and even when he tries not to think about it he still thinks about it. He’s been staring at Blaine’s lap for the better part of the last half-hour, and he’s sure that Blaine has to have noticed by now, especially since Kurt’s been on the same page in his history textbook for longer than that.

He just can’t help but wonder. They’ve had sex more than a few times by now, but it’s been routine stuff, usual stuff. Neither has tried to go out of their way to experiment, and Kurt’s almost kind of glad, because despite how comfortable he’s gotten with sex since he and Blaine had started discussing it and then having it, it’s still kind of terrifying for those first few minutes every time. But they both fumble; they’ve both had awkward moments, and it brings them closer together every time.

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“Hey, Kurt?”


“Look at me.”

“In a minute,” Kurt murmurs distractedly, reading quickly over the last line on the page before flipping it. “Just let me finish this page.”

Except suddenly there’s a hand at the spine of his book, lifting it up and away to reveal Blaine kneeling in front of him, lips slightly parted and eyes beginning to darken as he tosses the book to the floor where it lands with a thump. Kurt can’t even utter out an indignant exclamation at the loss of his place when Blaine looks at him like that. Because that look? Kurt’s well-acquainted with the results of that look.

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