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mrs-illyrian-baby · 5 months

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The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 10

Goddess In Distress | Loki x Reader

With the help of the Avenger's intel Loki is able to find you, but is rescuing you too easy? And why do your captors wear such a familiar sigil?

Warnings: 18+, violence, suggestion of drugging/medicating the reader, death (no main character deaths), bamf Loki taking no prisoners.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

It felt like an eternity had passed before the jet finally touched down on the rugged coast line, below the silent engines the waves crashed into the cliff face sending fine sprays of salt water up into the sky, dancing on the slick rocks and making rainbows dance even in the grey light.

“This is it,” Tony lifted his hand to flick a few switches above his head, the jet slowing to a dull hum as the wheels met the soft grass and Loki jumped from his seat to look out through the cockpit window, hoping to see some glimpse of you, a suggestion that you were still okay.

He knew it though, deep in his soul something thrummed, a power that was not his own, it called to him, seeking his support, seeking his own sedir to lean upon. But he couldn’t see you.

Set back from the edge of the cliff face, all he could see was a ruined tower, a majestic swirl of pale white stone weathered with age and veins of lichen. Across the remaining intact walls were a series of high narrow windows, anything larger than an arrow slit was also adorned with rusted metal bars spoiling the Romantic aspect with the knowledge that this was no defensive position, this was a prison.

Whoever was behind this had either little imagination of they were truly ancient, for it was clear the castle hadn’t even been inhabited in centuries, although Friday told them it had once been a stronghold protecting the coast Loki was concerned that a stiff breeze might finish it off, judging by the tumble of rocks at its base.

“Where is she?” Thor looked at Loki, expectant. “What is the cunning plan, brother?” Thor’s hand clapped Loki on the shoulder. Loki was taken aback, it was a rare day that Thor would defer to him. “We have a castle to storm, but it’s your Princess we’re saving.” Thor gave Loki’s shoulder a squeeze, his eyes glinting with the anticipation of battle.

Loki reached his hand out and gripped Thor’s forearm in thanks, a silent conversation between the brothers. The moment was spoiled only by the sound of Tony’s suit whirring to life behind them and his sharp cough.

Loki rolled his eyes, addressing Thor and ignoring the Avenger and the crass clanking of his outfit.

Instead he allowed that ancient feeling to once more well inside of him, to guide his thoughts, it washed over him, picking him up like a summer wave and pointed him towards you. The tower, how cliche. Thor followed his gaze and grinned, he had no doubt that Loki would set you free, but how amusing that you were truly locked in the tower. He wondered what kind of dragon would be guarding you.

“She’s high,” Loki stated, he could feel the brine in the breeze that chafed your cheeks, so there was a window at least. “Probably the tower, but perhaps the battlements.”

Loki allowed his magic to eddie around him as he spoke manifesting his Asgardian leathers in one golden swirl. The weight of his broad sword a sudden and reassuring presence.

“She’s trying to get her thoughts through.” He squinted against the pain piercing his skull, each throb of your telegraphed magic like the beat of a heart, making light dance in front of his eyes. He pushed back, sending hope and calm down whatever bond your magic had formed, and the throbbing dulled.

“Brother?” Thor looked concerned and Loki realised he’d been pressing his hands into the sockets of his eyes to try and alleviate the pain.

“I’m fine, it’s fine,” Loki brushed a hand through his hair and surveyed the castle again. “We should circle the walls, find a high room, we have the element of surprise, but we don’t know how many guards we might be facing.

“Three,” Tony said, tapping the faceplate on his suit. “Two in the main courtyard and one up there.”

Tony pointed at one of two remaining towers that flanked the corners of the otherwise ruined castle. Like its counterpart, it was roofed with grey slate and wooden batons. Trying to send that same hum of calm towards you, Loki focussed his thoughts. You were praying again, chanting his name quietly and like a siren you called to him, he took a few slow mesmerised steps forwards before Thor slapped a hand on his chest.

“That doesn’t seem a lot?” Thor looked confused, “it looks like a trap.” Loki gave Thor an incredulous look. Concerned as he was, Thor was still grinning, positively giddy at the thought of a fight.

“She’s definitely in there, she’s alive, she isn’t hurt, but her vitals suggest she’s been starved and there’s something in her system. A sedative maybe,” Tony kept reading from Friday’s scans. “And it really is just the three of them.”

“So she doesn’t have her magic?” Thor looked between Loki and Tony, “but Loki, you could feel her?”

Loki rubbed his temples again, the headache was back. The pressure of you trying to reach him pressing down like a lead weight.

“She’s trying, she’s fighting it. If they’ve managed to control her magic, stop her accessing it somehow, it doesn’t mean it isn’t still there. It’s searching for her, I can feel it pulling at me. She is strong, but she is unarmed against three suspected Asgardians. One of them has some sort of magic, that must be how they left Norway. The other two are at the very least cruel, if the machine’s statistics are to be trusted.” Loki waved his hand at Tony’s suit and earned himself a raised eyebrow. “We must be quick and fast, we can not risk them moving her again.”

We must act with the element of surprise. Quick, fast.” Loki’s twin daggers flashed in his hands and he gave them a theatrical twirl before placing them in their scabbards. “I will find her.”

Tony and Thor took guard positions, the God paced the outside of the walls while Iron Man hovered around the empty battlements.

Tony had wanted to blast in and out but Thor stopped him, hand on his chest “let him do this. Let him be the hero for her” and Tony, to his own surprise, softened. Maybe he was getting romantic in his old age, maybe he couldn’t be bothered with arguing.

“Fine. 10 minutes then I blow a hole in the wall and get this over with.”

“Stark you cannot blow a hole in the wall, if these are Asgardian men…” Thor’s protests faded in Loki’s ears as he took his opportunity to sneak away, swift and sure across the grass he made his way to the base of the tower and peered around into the open courtyard behind it.

There was a single guard seated by the wooden door at the base of the tower, slumped forward in his seat, his arms folded.

Loki frowned, it was almost insulting, the man was asleep. With another look behind him to make sure that Thor and Stark were still occupied with their squabble Loki crept closer, running his hand over the guards forehead to try and encourage a deeper sleep, but he felt nothing. Instead only an odd, empty sensation was returned, but the guard slept on.

Ignoring his suspicions, Loki picked his way across the courtyard, the nagging sense that this was all too good to be true nipping at his heels.

The door creaked open, its heavy hinges straining on the hard, frozen ground beneath. The stones that should have paved the interior were worn and had been taken over by writhing tendrils of ivy and moss making his steps softer but the tread slippery.

A heavy footfall told Loki there was another guard above, so he paused, listening to the rhythm of their boots descending the stairs and biding his time. With a flick of his wrist he sent out a bolt of magic, hoping to disable the guard and merely saunter past him but there was no flicker of gold or hum sedir in the air.

The steps echoed closer.

Loki shuffled on his feet, fading back into the shadows with his stealth and experience alone, waiting for the guard to pass before, slowly, carefully, he pounced.

He held his sword aloft and, with a swift swing of his arm Loki brought the pommel down onto the back of the guard’s head. He crumpled instantly, and Loki lowered him to the ground as quietly as possible, regretting the promises he’d made during the flight.

Loki had promised to play by the Avenger’s rules, no unnecessary casualties, no avoidable deaths, but he’d seen them drop buildings, even whole cities, what was one guard. Especially one who had given his ásynja such terrible, awful pain, swirling nightmares and torturous days.

There was no time for regret, he could feel your magic tugging at his chest.

Loki didn’t look back at the blood soaking into the dirt, only up into the dim grey light of the tower trying not to think about the sigil he wore. The Vanir.

It was another day in the tower, another day waiting for torture and another opportunity for you to irritate your capture. You had begun spending your days recounting your favourite TV shows which had the dual purpose of being entertaining and distracting, making the long day just a little shorter, as well as annoying whoever was placed as guards.

Through the metal bars of the window the weak afternoon light cast a shine on the ridiculous material of your outfit, shiny and satin today.

“And then Nick pulls her back by her sleeve and kisses her. Don’t you think that’s romantic?”

“No,” the man flicked his knife and let it land, point down, in the table again before yanking it back out with a creak of splintered wood.

“Really? Well. It is in the show. But her boyfriend, sort of boyfriend, is still there. So it’s awkward, you know?” You sat back down on the bed, the skirts of your dress parachuting around you.

“No I don’t know,” flick, thunk, creak, repeat, the knife twirled in the air.

This one never manifested the vision of Loki, he used only the knife to intimidate you with.

“Maybe you’ve never had a romantic kiss. A good kiss, is that it?” You taunted, staring at the ceiling and conjuring memories of Loki’s lips on yours, insistent but soft, coaxing them apart until he slid his tongue against yours -

“I’m finished with this conversation now. Shut up.” The knife made its final exit from the table and lay flat on the guard’s lap, his hand curled around the handle.

“Okay what about Jake and Amy, have you seen Brooklyn 99, when he proposes and…”

“I said shut up,” the knife flew across the room, the point embedded into the wood of your headboard, mere centimetres from your cheek.

You took a breath, slow and steady and collected yourself. You wouldn’t cry, you wouldn’t be upset.

“Unnecessary. Arsehole. I’m bored, I’m trying to entertain us.” You snapped, angling your hand up to pull the knife out, hoping to get a good grip before he realised that he’d handed you a weapon.

“How about I just shut you up,” he stood out of the chair and took two long strides across the room.

You flinched, pressing your back further into the headboard, your heart hammering and fear brimming. So far he’d only threatened you with the knife, your torture had been purely psychological. You assumed because whoever was keeping you wanted you alive and well eventually, but now you weren’t so sure.

“Nothing to say now?” He snarled, yanking the knife out, his knuckles brushing your cheek. You flinched again, turning your head away and closing your eyes, expecting a blow.

But it didn’t arrive. Your breathing was loud in the room, your chest heaving.

Then you opened your eyes slowly and met Loki’s stormy gaze as he towered in the small doorway. He put his finger to his lips and winked, the picture of calm and control to anyone else, but you could see the tick of his jaw as he surveyed your room.

“It’s time someone taught you a lesson, Estrid.” The guard growled, “you’re supposed to be behaving, if you and that conniving mother of yours just followed the plan then we wouldn’t have to be here. This is your fault.”

Your mother? What did your mother have to do with this? Surely he was the one keeping you here, no one else. Your mother had wanted to keep you safe, surely she wouldn't have been involved with anyone this cruel?

You didn’t have time to question the man’s words further. Loki strode into the room, instinctively putting his hands, palm out, on either side of his body expecting his short swords to appear. Nothing.

Torn between keeping your eyes on your captor and trying to make a run for Loki, you squirmed on the bed. The guard grabbed at your ankle, yanking roughly until you cried out, and dragged you to the end of the bed where your legs dangled from the tuft of your skirts.

Loki swallowed down his panic again, he’d been relying on his magic to get you both out of the tower easily and safely. But there was something holding it back, stopping him from accessing his weapons, keeping his sedir at bay. His eyes roved the room, searching for whatever poison they were using on you, perhaps he’d touched something when he’d crossed the courtyard, the plants maybe, his mother had been able to do the most incredible things with plants.

But then his eyes lit upon a series of runes etched into the wall. They were faint now, worn down with age, but clear enough. There would be no magic here. That’s why the guards were so confident, that was fine by him, if he couldn't use his magic he'd just have to get his hands dirty instead.

“Get a move on,” Tony crackled in Loki’s earpiece.

The god watched as the kidnapper leant down to whisper in your ear and Loki reached, silently, into his boot and pulled out the dagger he had hidden there, clenching his teeth. He’d regret threatening his Asynja.

Before the man could act any further, Loki’s arm was around his throat, the other around his middle pinning his arms to his sides. The golden dagger between his fingers pressed into the guard's neck, bobbing imperceptibly along with his quickening pulse.

“You’re lucky you’re in front of a lady or I’d paint the walls with your blood for your insolence alone.” His voice was like lava, all the anger of the last week bubbling over, fierce and red hot, stalling anything in its path and holding the guard still with fear. Loki’s gaze moved to yours, slowly, checking for injuries before settling on your face, his eyes softened and those plush pink lips you’d been dreaming about parted. “My darling,” he cooed, “what would you have me do with him?”

The way his tone changed was frightening and you felt your heart race at the sound of it. The Princely command dropped to his more familiar lover's call, to the voice he used just for you, a shiver ran up your spine, goosebumps erupting on your skin. It should have been horrifying, to see your lover transformed like this, but you couldn’t deny the thrill that shot through you at the sight of his wrath.

You lounged back on the bed, allowing the chiffon and silk to surround you, every bit the Princess contemplating her next command, surveying the men waiting before her, friend and foe.

“Don’t hold back on my account.” You smiled, looking at your guard one last time before allowing your eyes to meet Loki’s, focusing on the blue grey swirl around his pupil while a speck of blood appeared beneath the sharp tip of his dagger.

“Are you sure, my darling?” Loki knew what it was to kill, to watch death. It was a hard thing to come back from, he was already concerned about you being trapped away for weeks, he didn’t dare think of the damage this could do to you wellbeing.

Ignoring the man writhing in Loki’s grasp, you continued to get lost in his eyes, the nightmares and hunger that had consumed you fading away at the sight of him, the bruises on your legs and arms no longer sore, just a passing feeling, as long as he carried on looking at you like that, like he would burn the world and hand you the ashes on a silver plate if you wished it.

“I’m sure.”

You tried to trick yourself into thinking that your smile was because you were free, and not because Loki had kept his eyes locked on yours the entire time.

In the blink of an eye, Loki shifted his dagger to the other hand, sliding it in and out of the guard’s back without a blink. Loki pushed him away, ignoring the heavy thud of his body when it hit the hard floor.

Heat pooled in your belly, your eyes following Loki’s hand while he wiped the blood from his dagger on the guard’s cloak before sheathing it back into his boot.

“Princess,” his voice was low, some might even say nervous, but he never took his eyes from you, afraid to even blink lest someone steal you away again. He dipped slowly, bowing formally and taking your hand.

“My Prince,” you curtseyed, squeezing his hand and a flash of a memory returned to you both, of Asgard, of so many dances, so many formal introductions.

“Your Prince, is it?” Loki allowed the spell of formality to break, his smile wide as he scooped an arm around your waist, moulding your bodies together.

“Always.” you whispered in return. And then you were kissing, his taste so familiar and lips so comforting, you allowed yourself to fall into his embrace, leaving all of the loneliness behind in favour of the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

“You came for me,” he could feel your smile against his lips and couldn’t help but return it, “I’m so glad.”

“I could hear you calling for me, how could I resist the prayers of my Goddess.”

Your smile grew wider, your hands at the base of his neck flexed, pulling him back for another kiss as your cheeks warmed at the thought, you were his Goddess and he had come for you, despite what they had all said. He had killed for you, just as you knew he would. For as much as you were his Goddess he was your God and would answer all your prayers if you just believed.

The feeling welled inside of you, bright and brilliant, as hot and bubbling as your magic had ever been and you could feel his sedir returning its call, building and building, silver and gold and green and blue filling the room with light until…crack. One of the runed stones above the door cracked, splinters of rock raining down on you both.

“Please, let’s get out of here,” you begged, your lips only as far from his as they needed to be to form words, brushing against his with every syllable. “I miss my magic and I’ve missed you.”

Loki looked up at the broken stone and down at the golden magic curling around his fingers, “it should start coming back to you, now that the spell has been broken.” He pointed at the hairline crack travelling through the stones. “But Stark has also suggested that you may be drugged or poisoned and as much as I think the man is an idiot most of the time, those scans of his have proven very useful. So we should ensure one of his Midgardian doctors looks at you as well as an Asgardian healer.” Loki’s face was full of fury at the mention of you being poisoned, he’d come so close to losing you that the thought of reliving your pain in one of the Avenger’s horrid little hospital rooms was making him sick.

Loki turned you towards the door, supporting you through your many layers of fabric, but you pulled away.

“I can’t go out there like this,” you gestured at your torn dress, your knees below speckled with grit and softened by bruises.

“The depths of my magic haven’t returned yet, my darling, we have to conserve our energy for our escape.”

You bent forward and ripped the bulk of the pillowy petticoats from the bodice before testing your magic. That bubbling sensation hadn’t faded and, sure enough, when you focussed hard, your bare legs became covered by Asgardian leather, tall, boots encased your feet, a navy blue tunic replaced the satin and silk.

Loki marvelled at the silver shimmer of your magic, so strong even when poisoned and held back with ancient spells. He couldn’t help but notice that your clothes were Asgardian, a mirror of his own with a hint of both emerald and the midnight blue that you favoured.

“You, my asynja, are incredible.” He took your hand again, “and when we are safe I promise you all the care you need, whatever your beautiful heart desires.”

You smiled, glad to be free of the restrictive dress and looking forward to requesting another one of Loki’s luxurious baths, perhaps he’d join you this time instead of sitting by the side. You could almost feel the hot water running over your skin, slipping against his own bare chest.

Loki released his cloak from the gold epaulettes at his shoulders and swung it around you, pulling it tight over your chest against the cold.

“Warm enough, my darling?” He smoothed his hands down the buttery leather, willing it to become softer, warmer, lined, anything to stop the imperceptible shivers that you were trying to hide.

“Yes, thank you.” You smiled, but couldn’t help but look at your wrist sadly. It shouldn’t matter that your bracelet was lost, you had Loki and that was all that truly mattered.

Noticing your glance, Loki reached into his breast pocket and pulled the delicate gold chain out, taking your wrist gently in his hands and fastening the bracelet again. The movement made the matching ring on Loki’s finger flash in the pale light and it filled your heart with happiness.

“I didn’t mean to lose it, I was trying to drop my glove or something but -”

Loki cut you off with a quick kiss and, as your eyes met again, you suddenly felt shy. “I think we should definitely leave now,” Loki whispered into your ear and kissed your forehead, “can you walk?”

“I can walk,” you muttered, “I’m just, I’m tired.” You lent your weight into Loki’s side and allowed him to wrap an arm around your waist again.

“Let’s get you somewhere safe”

<< Chapter 9

Chapter 11 >>

A/N:

Loki sees a sigil for the Vanir and I deliberately didn't describe it because I don't think that's really a thing, please chalk it up to artistic licence.

The Vanir: giving their name to the realm Vanaheimr, the Vanir are a pantheon much like the Aesir. They're associated with fertility, wisdom and prophecy.

#Loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki/reader #Loki x Reader #Loki fanfic #Loki series #loki marvel #Loki x you #Loki/You #loki fanfiction #Loki smut #The Old Gods and the New #Loki fluff #loki x female reader #loki angst

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shangrila11 · 10 months

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Unintentional Date // Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler(Wolverine and the X-Men) x Mutant! reader

(Y/N) made their way to the Danger room, amped up and ready for some training. As a mutant superhero, it was important to keep oneself in tip-top condition in preparation for whatever that might come their way. Besides, it could be fun and satisfying to push oneself to their limits.

'Bamf!"

In a puff of smoke, Kurt was right beside you, grinning.

"Going to train, (Y/N)?"

"You surprised me, Kurt!" (Y/N) laughed, playfully nudging him. They confirmed that his guess was correct and invited him to train with them which he readily agreed to. Together, the two of them headed to the Danger Room, laughing and chatting as they did so.

Unbeknownst to the two of mutants, Kitty was watching their interactions. Excitedly, she remarked to Bobby how cute the two of them looked together. Bobby (who was busy admiring Kitty) snapped out of his thoughts before stammering his agreement. Kitty quirked an eyebrow but decided to not question Bobby's nerves. A sly grin made its way to her lip as she hatched a plan on how to bring her two friends closer. She told her idea to Bobby whose expression mirrored the female's. Oh, this was going to be so much fun.

xxx xxx

(Y/N) frowned as they looked their phone. Earlier, Bobby had invited them for a games night but he hadn't shown up yet. And so here they were at the games room waiting for their friend.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?"

Kurt entered the room, looking surprised to see them. (Y/N) was just as shocked as he was.

"I could ask the same the thing," they replied. Kurt explained the circumstances that led to him being there. Apparently, they were same as (Y/N)'s, except that it was Kitty that had invited him.

"Those two," (Y/N) sighed, shaking their head. But they had a smile on their face. They looked at Kurt, their smile turning a little bashful. "So what say we make use of the time they have given us?"

"I don't see why not," Kurt returned their smile.

"Cool," (Y/N)'s smile widened. "I'll go grab some snacks and drinks. Want any?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

"Alright. I'll be sure to get your favourites."

With a grin, (Y/N) left the room. They soon came back with the snacks and drinks. Kurt helpfully took some of the snacks from (Y/N)'s hands and placed them on the table. The (H/C)-haired mutant thanked Kurt as they placed the rest of the snacks on the table. Kurt responded with a smile and a 'You're welcome".

"So fancy playing darts?" Kurt asked, gesturing to the dart boards.

"Yes. Best of 3? Loser has to do what the winner asks of them," (Y/N) grinned.

"Alright. But know that I won't go easy on you," Kurt smirked. (Y/N) smirked back.

"That's what I would like to hear."

And so. the two of them began their little competition, stopping every once a while to munch on the snacks and to drink. It was an enjoyable and close match but Kurt won in the end.

"Congrats," (Y/N) smiled warmly. "So as promised, you get to ask me to do something." Their heart raced as they looked at their friend and crush. They trust that Kurt wouldn't ask them to do anything they were not comfortable with but they couldn't help feeling nervous. Kurt frowned thoughtfully before answering, "How about... making the two of us official?" He gently grabbed their hand.

"You are an amazing person, (Y/N). You are brave, kind and I enjoy being with you so it will make me the happiest guy in the world if you were to become my partner."

Now it was Kurt's turn to wait for their response nervously. Fortunately, he didn't need to wait long. Their cheeks tinted pink, (Y/N) nodded and smiled.

"Yes, I would love to be your partner."

Kurt blinked a couple of times, (Y/N)'s words not sinking in yet. But once they did, a broad smile lit up his features and he enveloped his significant other in a hug.

"May I?" Kurt asked, looking at (Y/N)'s lips. Beaming, (Y/N) nodded. Kurt leaned in and pressed his lips against theirs. The kiss was slow, cautious at first but it gradually become passionate as they went deeper into the kiss. The two of them eventually broke away from the kiss, out of breath but with smiles on their faces.

Looks like the two of them would have to thank Kitty and Bobbie later. And 'return the favour'.

#x reader #fluff #oneshot #kurt wagner #wolverine and the x men #kitty pryde #nightcrawler #nightcrawler x reader #romance #nightcrawler x men #robert drake #kurt wagner x reader

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johnwickb1tsch · 5 months

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you're the worst thing (i'm addicted to) Part 4

a john wick x Helen'sSister!Reader fic You are Helen's baby sister. When you meet John Wick at Helen's graveside, he invites you to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Set a few years after the first movie, 2-4 never happened. Use of y/n. Warnings: canon typical violence. Future reference to threat of noncon, (not John! because he's our assassin sweetiepie). Mourning. Smut. Grey areas. Questionable decisions. Sweetheart!John, BAMF!John Depressed!John - If you can handle the movie you should be fine here... PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

PART 4.

When the night of your art show comes, you do not expect to see John Wick in the crowd. You had not heard from him since that night when he gave you the orgasm of your life, then disappeared from your apartment like he’d only ever been a dark dream.

Though your panties had disappeared too, and you strongly suspect he’d taken them with him.

The gallery is packed this night. It’s a group show, and you’re hardly the main act, but it’s a huge stepping stone for you as an artist. Gallery X is nothing to turn one’s nose up at, and you dare to hope that maybe, just maybe, things might get going from here. The art world is just as much politics as it is producing work, and you were never good at that part of it all.

Helen was, bless. She presented strong work, but she also knew how to read a room, and whose hand to shake, and how to tell someone to go to Hell with a polite smile. You know that her final gift to you was the cachet of her name in a collaboration, and maybe, just maybe, if you play your cards just fucking right, this could be your break.

You recognize the faces of people with big names in the art world here tonight. Critics, museum curators, journalists, and collectors. They’ve all come out to play, and your heart has not slowed its frantic pace in your chest for the past hour since opening.

You snag a glass of champagne from a passing tray, even though you hate the stuff, and that is when you see him through the crowd. He’s across the room, tall and forbidding in a dark suit, his long hair framing his angular face. You can practically feel the weight of his gaze upon you, through the crush of all these people. For a moment, time stands still, as your eyes meet his.

You have thought of him a thousand times since the night he left you sated yet ravenous in your bed. A hot flush blooms across your skin, a spear of desire shooting straight to your loins as you remember what he did to you with that perfect mouth, and those big hands, and those soulful eyes. God, but you would have given him anything, after one look from those yearning dark eyes.

He is dressed well, but he doesn’t exactly look well. There is an edge to his stare; an intensity.

A hunger.

An agonizing thrill runs down your spine; for a moment you have to look away. It’s just too much.

By the time you turn back, he is gone.

You continue to mingle, chatting with your friends and acquaintances, sipping some of the bubbly to try to calm your nerves. It doesn’t work; you feel as though you have a live wire under your skin, a thousand volts of raw emotion running rampant through your veins.

It would have been easier, had it only been lust, or even just pity. But there was something more to it, something substantial and heady and warm, and that made it a much harder beast to slay.

You slowly make your way around to look at the other pieces. It’s the polite thing to do, and interesting too. The theme of the show is Loss. Perfectly broad, and the subjects of the works vary wildly.

In front of a massive encaustic abstract a low voice in your ear stops you in your tracks. “I feel like I owe you an apology.”

You turn your head slightly to find John standing ever so near, so close you can feel the warmth of the solid line of his body behind you. The room is packed and it’s almost necessary to stand this close just to be heard, but still, you get a dark thrill out of it.

“Oh?”

“I feel like I took advantage of you, last we met. I am sorry.”

You turn to face him, standing close enough to kiss. Thanks to the heels you’re wearing, you don’t have to crane your neck too far to look him in the eye.

“Actually, I was kind of thinking I took advantage of you.”

This clearly surprises him, his eyebrows rising. Ah, this dear, sweet, man. You didn’t take him for being naïve, but he is a little older, and the claws of traditional gender roles cling hard and deep.

“Helen wanted me to look after you, and I—”

“Gave me the most incredible pleasure of my life? Yeah, it was pretty terrible. You’re a selfish beast.”

He blinks at you, clearly stunned. Then his eyes narrow, the hunger from before sharpening to a cutting edge, and a scintillating thrill runs down your spine. You cannot shake the feeling that you’ve just pulled the tail of a tiger; a predator both magnificent and deadly. Mostly it’s excitement; but just the slightest hint might be fear. There is something brimming below the surface of this man that you know you don’t entirely understand. You aren’t sure yet if it is passion, or violence—or maybe a combination of the two. You wonder if Helen ever got to see behind the mask.

Somehow, you are certain she did, and she had not run from him. Perhaps that is what makes you brave tonight.

“You don’t mince words, do you?”

“Helen was the tactful one.”

“I actually found her refreshingly direct.”

“But I'm just abrasive. I've been told, believe me. It's because I don't apologize before I tell men what I really think.”

“I don't want your apologies.”

“Either way... I'm a big girl, John. You don't have to be the responsible adult between us.”

The corner of his mouth ticks at that.

“I feel like I should at least try.”

You shrug, unable to stop yourself from fingering his tie, fighting the urge to wrap your fist in it and pull him to you again. You’ve missed him, and standing this close, what you really want to do is climb him like a tree, and the crowd be damned. “Suit yourself.” You force yourself to stop touching him, although he didn’t seem to mind, or intend to stop you. You sigh deeply, warring with yourself as ever.

This is all so very fucked.

Maybe the truth is the best way to go.

“I like you, John. Maybe I’m just lying to myself, thinking Helen wouldn’t be pissed, but…maybe she’d be happy we’ve found each other.”

You dare to look him in the eyes, and once again, he looks as though he is drowning.

Fuck. You have to go.

You force yourself to step away from him, because your skin feels like its on fire. “We’re all going to Bar Rosé later to celebrate. You’re welcome to come, if you want.”

You retreat to greet a friend who’d come all the way to Manhattan from upstate to support you, and you can feel John’s eyes boring into you as you walk away.

For the rest of the opening you follow him out the corner of your eye. As though he's a magnet, you simply cannot help it. You are achingly aware of his presence, even if it's from across the room.

He pauses before your piece of Helen for a very long time, letting the crowd mill around him like a rock in a stream. It’s heartbreaking, really, the way he stands there before her, transfixed. A part of you wants to go take his hand, support him in what you know is yet another painful moment for him. But in the end, you decide to let him process it alone. A little later, you notice him talking to the gallery owner. Chummily, almost like they know each other. Of course, Carol Banning had known Helen, so perhaps you shouldn’t be so surprised.

When the evening is winding down John Wick is nowhere to be found. You're a little disappointed, and a little bit relieved. You're not sure what you think you're playing at, but deep down, you know it's so fucking twisted.

You meet with your comrades from the show, some artists you knew before, and some new acquaintances too. You hail a van cab to go a few blocks to Rosé. Tonight was a success. Someone bought your painting for a massive amount of money. More than you’d ever dreamed you could charge for a piece of your soul put down on canvas with paint. Carol had assured you it was appropriate, and you guessed she knew her clientele. A part of you was distressed to part with the piece you’d created with blood and tears and Helen’s art, and a part of you was relieved to let it go. You completed the cycle. You were sending Helen out into the world, where she would be remembered, and celebrated, for the remarkable woman she was.

It should have felt like victory, but in truth it was bittersweet.

You are 98 percent sure you don't let it show. Your friends are giddy with the success of the exhibition, and the last thing you want is to bring them down. You are too, truth be told. You were interviewed by not one, but two journalists this evening. One who even worked for the Times. Maybe it’s just curiosity about Helen Morgan-Wick’s baby sister, but…Helen would have told you to stop overthinking and enjoy it.

So perhaps, you will.

True to its name, the neon lights that accent the room at Rosé are pink. The glassware is too. You’re sure it’s a play on seeing the world through rose tinted glasses…but the drinks are strong, and the ambiance is fun. After a round your friends want to dance. You agree, and the four of you have a great time until you pick up a bogey. A man keeps trying to dance up on you, not getting the hint when you sidle away, not engaging with him whatsoever. Finally, you get tired of dodging him, and decide to get another drink. He follows you, leaning on the bar while you wait for the bartender’s attention. “I'm Sasha,” he says in thickly accented English, looking you up and down. He’s not bad looking at all, but there is something in the way he looks at you that makes you uneasy.

“Hi,” you answer, not keen to give him your name.

“You come here often?”

“Not really.”

“What are you celebrating tonight?”

“Who said we're celebrating?”

Had this pushy creep overheard you? Had he followed you from the gallery?

Another voice cuts in from behind you, a string of Russian that almost sounds like a command.

Your unwelcome suitor frowns, answering in the same language.

You turn your head to find John standing close behind you. You hadn’t noticed him come in; it’s as though he materialized from the shadows. When he puts a hand on your waist you do not flinch, hoping the other guy will get the picture. He frowns, looking between you. He says something quick over your head, and the only word you catch is blyad.

You’re pretty sure it means fuck.

There is a heavy moment rife with tension between the two men with you stuck in the middle, before the Russian makes a hissing sound between his teeth and goes. He doesn’t just go to the other side of the bar, however. He leaves the premises, slinking out the door, and you turn to look at your savior.

“Wow. What did you say to him?”

He shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Did you know him?”

“Hmm. Sort of. From work.”

You tilt your head, staring up at him. He hasn’t removed his large hand from your hip, and even though its possessive and maybe it should bother you, you revel in his touch. You’re not usually one to get off on men fighting over you, but it’s hard not to feel a little glow of primal satisfaction at the exchange. It makes you feel bold, and maybe you run your mouth a little. “Yeah? So did Helen know?”

“Know what?”

“That you’re an ex mafioso?”

You’re 99 percent sure you’re making a joke, but from the sharp way he looks at you, a trill of warning rolls down your spine. He leans down to speak in your ear, “You have quite the imagination, young lady.”

That warmth in your chest descends to pool between your thighs.

The bartender saves you from digging this hole even deeper.

“What can I get you, Mr. Wick?”

“Blanton’s on the rocks,” John answers, then looks to you.

“Vodka martini, please,” you answer.

“We have Smirnoff, Absolut, Grey Goose, Stoli…”

Before you can answer that Smirnoff is fine John answers, “Stoli.”

You raise an eyebrow at him as the bartender goes to pour your drinks. “Thanks.”

“Life is too short to drink bad vodka.”

You huff a laugh at that. “So, do you know every bartender in New York, or…”

“Probably just in Manhattan,” he jokes with a ghost of a smile.

You turn so that you are facing him completely. You have to stand close to hear each other, you reason. It has nothing to do with the fact that this man draws you like you are an asteroid caught in his gravity. If you collide…you have no doubt you’ll burn to pieces.

“Congratulations, on tonight,” he says, and you believe he means it. “Helen would be proud.”

“Thanks. Feels surreal, to be honest.”

“That’s fair.”

You find yourself looking at his tie again, fighting the urge to use it to tug him closer. My, but you are becoming a needy creature in this man’s presence. You have to remind yourself that you do not, in fact, know him that well. Even if it feels like…he could have always been yours. “It’s nice to see you again,” you dare venture, looking up from beneath your lashes.

“Likewise.” He touches you lightly, just below your chin. Your eyes meet, and you feel pinned by those dark orbs, somehow certain he can see right through you,

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…are you okay?” Like on Helen’s birthday, you imagine tonight must have dredged up plenty of emotions that just maybe this poor man would like to bury once and for all.

“I guess I deserve that, after how I behaved.” He is, undoubtedly, referring to the way he fled your apartment a month ago.

“I’m not mad, I just…genuinely want to know.”

He bites his lip as he’s thinking, and its all you can do just to watch him, wishing it was you with his lip between your teeth instead. Finally he answers, “I am as okay as it is possible for me to be.”

It is the most non-answer you’ve ever heard.

Sensing your dissatisfaction with this pointed evasion, he digs a little deeper, leaning in so that his words are only for you. “I didn’t exactly lead a happy life, before Helen. After she passed…I was certain I would never want anyone ever again. You kind of threw a wrench into that.”

“Sorry.”

He gives a little huff of self-deprecating laughter. “Don’t be. I…I like you, y/n. Please, forgive me, for…everything.”

You don’t believe he’s telling you all this to win sympathy, or using it as a line, like so many men would. It’s just facts, and you are moved to the bottom of your soul. Somehow you know that this is not something this man would casually admit to just anyone. “John…” With your heart in your throat you find yourself reaching for him, touching his fingertips with yours on the bar. “It’s ok. You don’t owe me an apology. You don’t owe me anything.”

He tilts his head to look at you, his dark hair swinging into his face. You feel bold enough to reach out, brushing it behind his ear. His eyes close at your touch for the barest moment. It’s so easy to forget that you are in a crowded public venue, with him near. “I owe you my gratitude, at the very least.”

You shake your head, prepared to deny it, but then your drinks arrive, and the moment is somewhat shattered. “Want to sit with us?” you ask, indicating your merry band of artist misfits with your chin. He nods, following you, though his hand has found that place at the small of your back again that warms your blood to an agonizingly slow simmer. Carol has joined you, and you wonder if John will feel awkward, fraternizing here in unspecific but obviously friendly capacity with his sister in law.

Yikes. You do not like it, when you think of it that way.

However, Carol Banning is a veteran of the New York art scene, and she has seen much worse scandals than this. She doesn’t even bat an eyelash, greeting him warmly from behind her large black-rimmed glasses. They chat more about the show, and the state of the art world. Carol mourns that no photographers currently working quite have an eye like Helen did. Then she points a crimson painted claw your way, surprising you. “But this young lady. She’s going to do some interesting things, I have a feeling.”

John salutes you with his dwindling glass of amber liquid, a smirk on his lips you don’t entirely know how to read. “I have no doubts.”

After you finish your drink you find you are ready to go. It’s been a long day, and a big night. Tonight, you fulfilled Helen’s dying wish for you, and somehow you feel simultaneously accomplished and sore to the bone.

“Can I drive you home?” asks John quietly in your ear. It sends a bolt of heat straight to your center, warmth pooling in your loins as you remember what happened last time he made such an offer. You look at him, wondering if he wants an encore, or if he just wants to see you home safe. His face in that moment is so handsome it hurts, but utterly unreadable to you.

“Sure,” you answer, sensing that somehow you’ve just signed your fate over to him with your name on the dotted line.

You hit the street, the cool night air a relief after the close press of the bar. John offers you his left arm, and you take it gladly, leaning on his shoulder a little more than you really need to. Part of it is that last martini with what had been truly excellent vodka—and part of it was just a need to be close to him. A part of you thought you’d never see him again. The fact that he is here, solid in the flesh and you can touch him, kind of blows your mind.

“I’m not parked far,” he assures you, and you nod with a sleepy smile. At the end of the block you see his car parked on the street. It’s a little menacing, you think to yourself, looking at the dark paintjob and the sleek lines. Definitely a car designed to be a predator of the road; something that will run you down and eat you, no matter how fast you try to run.

As you near the vehicle three shadows separate themselves from an alley. John freezes in his tracks, pushing you behind him. You recognize the guy from earlier, Sasha, who is flanked by two intimidating henchmen. He speaks to John again in Russian, and John replies in kind. It pisses you off that you don’t know what’s being said.

“Speak English,” you demand, half-stepping out from behind John.

A low chuckle runs through the men before you that makes your blood run cold. “I said,” enunciates Sasha slowly, “That if he hands you over now I’ll let you both live. He’ll just have to watch as I fuck you like the whore you are.”

“Nice. Very original, fuck head.”

His self-satisfaction morphs to anger. You are scared, but you’re not showing it like you should, and it’s ruining his fun. You use John’s body to shield the fact that you are dipping into your purse for your pepper spray. Why the fuck can’t you ever find anything in your purse when you need it?

What comes next happens so fast you almost can’t register it. One of the toughs made the first move forward, but John is like a hurricane upon them, deflecting strikes and breaking arms, punching one guy in the throat and kicking another in the gut. He throws one with some kind of complicated grapple and flip ninja shit before hitting the other again in the knees. In the blink of an eye two of them are down on the ground, leaving John to take on Sasha, who has drawn a knife. You see that one of the grounded henchmen is fishing behind his back for something. Without thinking you surge forward, knowing it’s a matter of life and death. As his hand raises with the gun you goalie-kick it from his hand, dousing his face with mace.

“Motherfucker!”

The gun goes off before it skitters across the street and under a parked car. He howls with agony, clutching his face, trying to wipe the concentrated capsaicin out of his eyes. In the next moment there is an arm around your waist, pulling you towards the parked cars. You are so caught up in the adrenaline rush that you react without looking, but John catches your hand with the mace, keeping it pointed away from the both of you. “It’s me,” he says, taking the tube and slipping it into his pocket like he doesn’t trust you not to let loose again. “You did good, honey. Come on.”

As he is bundling you into the passenger seat of his car you look back to see Sasha is writhing on the sidewalk with his knife in his leg, shouting what undoubtedly are expletives in Russian. You vaguely wonder if he might bleed to death as the Mustang rumbles to life and you roar away.

“Holy shit!” you exclaim, trembling with adrenaline and you guess, a bit of shock. “What the fuck just happened?”

“Are you hurt?” he asks, deeming it the more pertinent question.

“No. I’m…fine,” you say, looking down at yourself. “Jesus, are you hurt?” You look over at him to see that he is bleeding from a cut on his brow. “Oh my god, let me see.” You reach for him but he holds up a hand. “I’m fine, believe me.”

You catch one more glimpse of the wreckage behind you as he makes a right turn, downshifting. The car surges forward, pressing you back into the seat.

“You totally laid those guys out!”

“Yeah.” You study him from the passenger’s seat, his hard expression highlighted by the passing headlights. His jaw is clenched so tight you think he might crack his teeth. “I'm sorry you had to see that.”

You think about the three guys he leveled out like a human tornado.

“You've got some moves, Mr. Wick.”

He just sighs, sounding so very tired.

“Yeah.”

“Should we…call the cops?”

He looks over at you like you should know the answer to that question, but shit, this is the most violence you’ve seen up close in your entire life. Finally, he just shakes his head, seeming a decade older in that moment. “It wouldn’t do any good,” he assures you.

Except, maybe get him arrested, you reason. Because even though it had been self-defense…the carnage he’d left behind was unreal.

“Helen said you used to work in security?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus Christ.”

He huffs a laugh at that. “Hardly.”

“I still don’t fucking get it.”

“Get what?”

“Why…this even happened? Men don’t exactly brawl on the street over me.” For Helen? Maybe, more likely, but not you, the boho weirdo who is lucky enough to kind of resemble your model-beautiful older sister, but will never be half as lovely or charming. You suspect there is some other reason this went sideways, that has more to do with John’s professional life before he retired from security.

That job description is holding less and less water the more you think on it. Helen was always super cagey in talking about what John Wick did for a living. You’re starting to get a better idea as to why that might have been.

John surprises you when he holds out his hand to you across the center console. “I would fight an army for you,” he tells you softly, and goddamn if you don’t believe him. You take his hand, comforted by the strength in the long fingers wrapped around yours. You only let go in between him shifting gears, and you don’t really say anything else until you pull up in front of your building.

“Come on,” you say, swinging open the heavy door of the sportscar. “I’ll take care of you.” The look he pays you is somehow both raw and predatory. A thrill of anticipation runs down your spine, because at this point you’ve lost your mind, and you don’t have the sense to be afraid.

<<PART 3 PART 5>>

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #keanu reeves #john wick fic #keanu x you #keanu reeves x reader

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codywanweek · 1 year

Text

2023 Prompts

Thank you all for voting!! It's now time to announce the prompts for Codywanweek 2023!

We have two sets of prompts for writing and art, which are divided into multiple categories: AU, Broad, and Specific (and NSFW for the writing prompts this year). We'd appreciate it you use the art prompts for art and fic prompts for fics (this is easier for the eventual masterlists asjhfsdg)! But podfics, gifsets and everything else you can imagine are all welcome too!

There is a plain text version for screenreaders here. (Edited this post so it works in everyone's blog theme as well)

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Writing Prompts

The Blue* prompts are the most voted for overall!

Day/---/AU/--------------------/Broad

Rebel AU/------------------/Jedi/Sith artifact/temple

Tatooine Husbands*/------/Little Brothers

Arranged Marriage/-------/Only One Bed*

Force Sensitive Cody*/---/"This isn't what I signed up for"

Sith AU/--------------------/Established Relationship

Modern AU/----------------/Undercover*

Timeline Shenanigans*/---/Dancing

Day/---/Specific/---------------------/NSFW

Cody with a lightsaber*/--------/Bondage

Trading Weapons/---------------/Fuck or Die

Growing Old Together/----------/Dirty Talk

Secret Relationship/------------/Dom/Sub

Battle Couple*/------------------/First Time

Flimsiwork and Tea/-------------/Force Sex

Rako Hardeen/Faked Death/---/SPICY

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Art Prompts

The Blue* prompts are the most voted for overall!

Day---AU

Ancient Greece/Rome/Egypt

Tatooine Husbands*

Dancer/Musician/Theater AU

Historical (Edwardian/Victorian/Medieval/Prohibition era)*

Role Reversal

Prince/Knight*

Creatures/Hunters

Day/---/Broad----------------/Specific

Sleeping/--------------/Forehead Touch/Keldabe Kiss*

Wings/-----------------/Formal Wear

Stars/Sun*/-----------/BAMF Cody/Obi

Light and Dark/-------/Flimsiwork and Tea

Hands/----------------/Sitting Vigil/Injury*

Lightsabers/----------/Wearing a Dress/Skirt

Armour*/--------------/Force Bond

#codywan #codywan event #codywanweek 2023 #codywanweek2023 #cww2023 #cww 2023 #codywanweek #codywan week #star wars events

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teejaystumbles · 1 year

Text

Flatter the Mountain Tops chapter 11 is up on AO3!

Flatter the mountain tops - Dream of the Endless/Hob Gadling - Dragon AU - Mature - WIP

Alternate Universe - Dragons, Shapeshifting Dragons, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, lingering identity trauma, BAMF Hob Gadling, BAMF Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, they're both pretty bamf because they're dragons

Chapter 11 - When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st

"Aren’t you adorable." Hob freezes where he lies on his back and looks in the direction of the voice. There's a man he has never seen before at the edge of the glade. He is broad and tall and has a huge grin on his face.

Hob settles in at the new village and makes a new friend. ;)

#teejay writes #dragon au #dreamling #the sandman fanfiction #dream x hob

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regulusrules · 1 year

Note

New to your blog, I was wondering if you have a Merlin fic rec list that's just your favorites. I unfortunately missed the Merlin fandom back when the show was airing so I always feel like I'm just missing the greatest stuff from other people

Hello friend! Welcome to my humble abode of a blog (which resembles more of a Merlin waste disposal). Like you, I missed the show when it was airing, but honestly when you stay as long in this fandom as I have, you will constantly be exposed to wonderful creative energies that give their all. It's a timeless fandom, one of the very few, and no matter when you enter it you will always feel fulfilled. :)

So, favourite fics! Gosh, how can I fit 2K+ bookmarks in one ask. When it comes to this fandom, I admit: I have no life. I've read a real huge number of fics throughout the years, but sometimes it's inevitable for fics to get lost in a sea of bookmarks. So to make things easier, I'll write you some canon fics that immediately come to my mind for how unforgettable they were.

No order; each one has its own chamber in my heart.

Short fic recs (1K-50K)

1. Our broken pieces by @aramblingjay. 10K, T, Canon Era, Hurt/Comfort.

Am I purposefully putting this one on top this time so that everyone who stumbles across this ask could check it out? Yes. Yes I am. Is it my personal mission for the fandom to give this fic the love and kudos it deserves? You bet it's a big overbearing yes. And yes I want you to cry and feel your heart twist with agony because of how beautiful it is. My eyes never shed tears for a fic before this one, and never will after it. There is something in the way the author broke Arthur that just resonated in my innards. And the way Merlin was there for him, not a placebo "I'm here" but there, in all actuality, doing so with every fiber of his love, made it something else. I like to believe that this fic was crafted so perfectly in a parallel universe, and sent to us as a blessing we never knew we needed.

2. Beauty in the Ashes of Our Lives by Fulgance. 21K, T, Canon AU, Magic Reveal.

This is probably the umpteenth time for me to recommend this fic, but I won't stop. I can't stop. This fic ruined me so slowly, and healed me even slower. All my Merlin friends do not believe why this would be one of my favourite fics of all time with what Arthur did, but honestly, it's the fact that the writer wrote it so convincingly that makes me crumble internally. It isn't easy to write angry Arthur, and it's even harder to write him grief-stricken, but here, the author blended both elements so perfectly. It's impossible to forget this fic. It's worth your every second.

3. Linger On Your Pale Blue Eyes by supercalvin. 18K, T, Canon Era, Touch-Starved.

Will this fic linger in your heart? It sure as hell never leaves mine. Every once in a while, I have to go back to this fic and read it like a morning paper. Some fics sustain you.. this is definitely one of them. Most of @supercalvin's fics are of sustaining material. They are made with such depth and broad understanding to the characters that you should take notes. There's this one line that everytime I cross this fic I instantly remember and I go to the nearest pillow to just AAA a little bit. When you reach it, I'm sure you'll recognise it, and I'll be waiting for you to come AAA with me.

4. Dower the Stars by RurouniHime. 40K, E, Golden Age, Pining Arthur, BAMF Merlin.

I don't think anything levels the levels of intimacy in this fic. It is one of the best Arthur characterizations I've ever read. His boundless love and pining for Merlin— oh my heart. Also, the world building and amount of research that must have been done for this fic is astounding. I was this close from following the author's footsteps and, idk, writing an entire research paper about Arthurian lore or something. The moment I read it I immediately wanted to contact the author and just tell them WHY ARE YOU BLESSING US WITH ALL THIS INSTEAD OF PUBLISHING IT?? It was amazing. I reread it a month ago for the third (fourth?) time and found myself gasping and aweing as if I never read it before. It keeps being an experience every time, one so worthwhile.

5. from hearth and ashes, we’re reborn by @remuscariad. 5K, G, Canon AU, Magic Reveal, Hurt/Comfort.

Earthshatteringly-poetic isn't a made-up word powerful enough to describe the beauty of prose here. There are fics that you open and immediately know that you're sold: this was one of them. Its summary alone dropped my jaw down to my neighbour's floor. The dialogue is so meticulously crafted it feels like reading a piece from a past era. Genuinely beautiful.

6. Half of my soul by marvelxpendragon. 2K, G, Post-Canon AU, King Arthur/Court Sorcerer Merlin.

This fic is half of my soul, as the poets say. So what if I reject the canonic ending and resort to pain myself with fics like this instead? I sometimes feel we, as a fandom, try to up the angst of the finale so that we forget how painful it was by bringing even MORE pain. But it's pain that I delight in, because it's pain that MAKES SENSE. Yes give me MCD but with a freaking beautiful life like the one this author gave us. Make me believe it was all worth something. Make me believe they lived.

7. whisper to the flame by @missfaber. 16K, E, Canon AU, Wounded Arthur, Hurt/Comfort.

*clears throat* *prepares for a mental scream*TELL ME HOW YOU LIGHT YOUR FIRESSSSS *clears throat once more and pretends I'm okay*

So, as the author wrote, this is indeed a love letter to the two characters we love more than anything. More than anything, I loved the fact that the author gave Arthur agency to think and act and be a king, even when he was still a prince. Even in most fics where Arthur already knows, this isn't common. So whenever I find a fic that has Smart!Arthur and a lovesick one at that, I would vouch my life and soul for it. Also Protective!Knights is the best thing in the world, ok? I would die for this discourse for real.

8. As a Sea Shell by bathilda bagshot (wellthengameover). 12K, T, Canon AU, Slow Burn.

Okay, so this fic is only bookmarked "Agony until 7 AM", and with that, a rush of drowning memories always come crushing my soul. I lost sleep and SANITY over this fic. I was thrown from a cliff and kept hanging in the air without a respite until the very END. I read it a couple weeks after the finale and it broke me even FURTHER. I was promised growing old together, and it was a big LIE. And yet I love it so, so dearly.

Honourary biased mention:

9. My heart is readily yours by yours truly. 11K, T, Canon AU, Protective Arthur, Hurt/Comfort.

Sometimes I don't believe I had it in me to write this. Like.. what, dearest self, the hell were you thinking. With tyismso, I somehow balanced fluff and angst— a solid magic reveal fic. But this one? I only knew ✨pain✨

.. and I don't regret a thing.

[Long fic recs]

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inevitably-johnlocked · 8 months

Note

Hi Steph! Wondering if you have any fic recs to recommend us? Anything would do, but preferably Johnlock without a third party involved (no infidelity, etc). Thank youu

Hey Nonny!!

Thank you SO much for this very broad ask, since I have a few lists ready-to-go but no asks to attach them to! Hmmmm... How about this list, should be good for no-infidelity but LOTS of angst before a happy ending! :)

Sadly, I just discovered that Tumblr doesn't let me make my lists as long as I used to be able to, so I unfortunately had to cut out half the fics on this list, so there IS a part two to this one, but no ask I can add it to, so if you'd like to see MORE Sherlock POV Angst, let me know!! <3

As usual, please add your own fics if you have any!

POV SHERLOCK 3rd PERSON Pt. 3: ANGST / ANGSTY FLUFF or BAMF FICS Pt.1

See also:

POV Sherlock 1st & 2nd Person

POV Sherlock 3rd Person Pt. 1: Fluff

POV Sherlock 3rd Person Pt 2: Hurt/Comfort & Whump

Speechless by jeansmarco (K, 562 w., 1 Ch. || Friendship) – John asks Sherlock to be his best man and Sherlock is speechless.

Illuminating Worlds and Wastes Alike by Poedhamerons (G, 775 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Watching Over John, Pining Sherlock) – There is a space of time between Sherlock dying and having to pluck apart the spider's web. Sherlock spends it the only way he knows how. Part 1 of Stars

Burn Burn by Jenn1984 (K+, 925 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG, Angst, Worried / Panicked / Possessive Sherlock) – A week after the events of "The Great Game", Sherlock returns to 221B Baker Street to find it empty.

His by I'm Nova (T, 1,042 w., 1 Ch. || Humour, Hurt/Comfort, Manipulation, Possessive Sherlock) – Sherlock doesn't share what he's fond of.

Sherlock's Mind Palace by Valkyrie Of The Dead (K+, 1,091 w., 1 Ch. || Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Deaths, Self Reflection) – Sherlock needs to change his mind-palace once again. He had hoped he wouldn't, he had thought he wouldn't, because they were invincible, weren't they?

Sherlock's soldier!John Kink is Getting Out of Hand by wendymarlowe (E, 1,247 w., 1 Ch. || Secret Crush, Military Kink, Masturbation) – Sherlock's got a secret kink. And a secret box where he hides his pictures of John in uniform. And a very, very secret crush on his flatmate.

Untouchable by greengrapegaze (T, 1,368 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-S3, UST/URT, Oblivious John, Lonely Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Emotional Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Pining Sherlock) – “He never would. Petty, childish, immature-bitter. Jealous. She had all that he wanted. All he could never have.” Part 1 of Steps to a Bittersweet Symphony

Angel by MrsNoggin(T, 1,513 w., 1 Ch. || Winglock, Friendship, Chromoesthesia, Drugging) – John is an angel. That can be the only explanation. A response to the challenging request for a realistic wingfic one-shot.

Conciliatory Coffee (It's All Fine) by dget (K+, 1,635 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Post-TRF Reunion) – "He can feel John's shuddering breaths in his own lungs, feel John's heart beating behind his own sternum." Because John Watson is a doctor, and Sherlock Holmes is a detective, and neither really knows how to be anything else. A post-Reichenbach reunion oneshot. Can be read as Johnlock.

Upon This Throne by ifonlynotnever (T, 1,773 w., 1 Ch. || Pre-TRF, Angst, Romance, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Introspection, Imagery, Pining Sherlock, Drug Use, Passage of Time) – Inside Sherlock's mind is a Palace. Inside the Palace are many rooms. Within the largest room is the Throne. Upon the Throne sits the King.

One in Ten Thousand by Blind Author (K+, 1,856 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TGG, Friendship / Pre-Slash, Discussions of Violence, Worried then Curious Sherlock, Scars/John’s Bullet Wound, Medical Anomalies) – John seems to have unusual mobility for a shoulder wound…

Take My Hand, Knot Your Fingers Through Mine by patster223 (K+, 2,003 w., 1 Ch. || Hurt / Comfort, Friendship, Whump, Pining Sherlock) - "I know this is an inconvenience for you, but I would really rather you were awake right now, John." John is unconscious, and Sherlock decides to talk to him anyway. Sherlock/John pre-slash.

Duvet (green) by Mazarin221b (G, 2,021 w. || Post-THoB, Mind Palace, Revelations, First Kiss) – Sherlock recalibrates and restructures his mind palace so it looks like 221b. What he chooses to put in John's room is a bit of a surprise, and a revelation.

Crisis Averted by Spartangal22 (T, 2,188 w., 1 Ch. || HLV Fic, Missing Scene After Confronting Mary, Canon Compliant, Sherlock Whump / Mary Shot Sherlock, Family / Friendship, Hospitalization, Sherlock POV, Holmes Brothers) – Lying in the hospital, Sherlock receives some surprising visitors, and manages to deal with two problems he's been having lately. A missing scene from HLV about a formal introduction that was never made and a visit that was never shown.

glimpses through a closing window by radialarch (T, 2,430 w., 1 Ch. || Hiatus / Post TRF, Vlogging, Pining Sherlock, Angst, BG John/Mary) – John starts a domestic vlog. Sherlock watches it on stolen phones, over flickering wi-fi, and aches.

It's a Dummy by Johnnlocked (Krullenbol2602) (T, 2,574 w., 3 Ch. || HLV-Remix, Major Character Injury, H/C, Love Confessions, Mary is Not Nice, 3G Moment) – What if Mary had taken the shot?

It's After That Hurts by jonnyluvssherlock (T, 2,791 w., 1 Ch. || City of Angels AU || Fantasy, Fallen Angel Sherlock, Soldier John, Friends to Lovers, Permanently Incomplete Fic) – Sherlock's an angel stuck as a guardian to danger addict John Watson. Everything is fine until he gets too involved. Now he has to make the choice, eternity alone or one life time with a man who may or may not love him.

All in a Day by chappysmom (K+, 2,920 w., 1 Ch. || Kidnapping, Sherlock POV, Humour, Light Angst, BAMF John) – Oddly enough, it seemed like this time, Sherlock had been kidnapped for no other reason than to pressure John. In other words, this had nothing to do with him. Really, this on top of the blow to the head was enough to make him dizzy.

Measuring Damage With the Fujita Scale by teahigh (T, 3,548 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss / Time, Vacation / Holidays, Friends to Lovers, Bed-Sharing, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Angsty Fluff, Scars, Awkward Talks) – John goes back into town, into the storm, and Sherlock realises he forgot to say, “I just want to be alone with you.”

Nineteen Seconds of Falling by EmmyAngua (T, 3,739 w., 1 Ch. || Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Falling in Love) – Sherlock spends exactly nineteen seconds zoned out after John asks him to be best man. He retreats to his mind palace in the desperate hope of figuring out what he wants, unfortunately for him his mind palace is full of people who keep trying to give him advice.

In the cherry blossom's shade by Eliane (M, 3,934 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, First Time / Kiss, Sleeping Together, Pining / Obsessive Sherlock, Minor Char. Death) – This isn’t new. Sherlock has already done this – has gone through cities, and dingy hotels, and sleepless nights but it was different before. John wasn’t there before. They’re in this together.

Obsession, Appassionato by shinychimera, Yeomanrand (E, 4,249 w., 1 Ch. || Possessive Sherlock, First Time, Jealous Sherlock, Music / Sherlock’s Violin, Present Tense, Frottage) – John is late, and he hasn’t called, and Sherlock works himself into a state. Part 1 of Love and Ysaye

The Sum of His Parts by CommonNonsense (T, 4,311 w., 1 Ch. || Body Worship, Pining, First Time) – There are eleven major organ systems in the human body. Sherlock knows about all of them to some degree, but none fascinate him as much as the ones that make up John Watson.

What John Doesn't Know (Won't Hurt Him) by blueink3 (NR [T], 4,392 w., 1 Ch, || S3 Fix It, Pining Sherlock, Snippets of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Scars, Fluff and Angst, Five and One, Hopeful Ending, POV Sherlock) – Five people who see Sherlock's scars before John Watson. But Sherlock's secrets were never something he could keep from his blogger for long.

Stranded by BeautifulFiction (T, 5,798 w., 1 Ch. || First Kiss, Communication / Relationship Discussion, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, BAMF John, Doctor John, Case Fic, Drinking, Huddling For Warmth, Friends to More) – When stranded on a derelict barge at high tide, John and Sherlock reconsider their friendship.

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

The Strait of Juan de Fuca by mightypog (T, 6,400 w., 1 Ch. || Vacation, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Canada, Post-TRF, Love Confessions, Angst With Happy Ending) – Sherlock is back and all seems forgiven, but something is missing between him and John. Their friendship initially appears intact, but Sherlock doesn't understand why John seems to be slipping away. Finally, in terror, he tries to reconnect with John by taking him to the one place that seems to inspire any emotional interest in John any more: the Canadian wilderness. While there, Sherlock faces his greatest fear.

Bridges by sussexbound (M, 6,602 w., 1 Ch || Post-TLD / S4 Fix It, Love Confessions, Mending Relationships, Moving Back In, Pining Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Past Abuse, Shaving) – The silence between them is deafening, interrupted only by the hum of the traffic outside, and the soft click-clunk of the plastic cups Rosie is playing with on the floor beside them. It is the first time they have been alone together, since Sherlock’s birthday. It’s only been two days, but it feels huge, important, like there is a precarious bridge stretched out before them both that they need to at least attempt to traverse.

A Friend Indeed by Sanru (K+, 8,190 w., 1 Ch. || Missing John, Friendship, Drama, Introspection, Possessive Sherlock, Worried Sherlock) – Something has gone terribly wrong with a supposedly simple case. John Watson is missing. While the search for him is proving to be fruitless, it has made Sherlock realize that having an emotional attachment to someone may have its disadvantages but he liked being able to call John his friend. Now if only he could find out what happened to him...

On the Losing Side by missselene (E, 8,210 w., 1 Ch. || Anal / Oral, First Kiss / Time, Angst, Misunderstandings, Mild Dub Con / Drunk John) – After Mary's death, John moves back into Baker Street, but is still upset at the loss of his wife and child. Eventually, he and Sherlock stumble into a sort of relationship, but it's more physical than anything and they don't talk about it. They especially don't talk during sex. If they are going to have sex, Sherlock notices the signs hours beforehand, and he prepares carefully. The lights are off, they're under the covers, he prepares himself using lots of lube so he can make it feel as much like a woman as he can, and he doesn't let himself make any noise so that, if John wishes, he can pretend that he's still with Mary.

My Life for His by QuinnAnderson (E, 8,816 w., 1 Ch. || Guardian/Protector, Greek Mythology || Growing Up, Sex, Religious Themes, Suicide, Minor Character Death) – It began when Sherlock was eight, and he attempted to climb all the way up to the highest branch in the old willow tree in his back garden. He'd thought he was still small enough that it could support him, but the second he'd grabbed hold of it to pull himself up, the branch snapped, and down he went, plummeting a solid twenty metres. The odd thing was, he never actually hit the ground.

The Five Stages of Mourning, Plus One by SunnyRea (T, 10,557 w., 1 Ch. || MCD, Pining / Grieving Sherlock, URT, Heavy Angst, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Drug Use, Graphic Death, Depression, Unhappy Ending) – Sherlock did not want this, did not want another stalemate with John in the middle, a gun in Jim's hand. This cannot have happened without a sign. There has to be something he missed anything which said today is the day I kill for real.

White Blank Page by SarahCat1717 (M, 11,936 w., 7 Ch. || Post-TRF, Clever John, Reunion Fic, Pining Sherlock, Letters, Fantasies) – Post-fall, Sherlock is off eliminating Moriarty's crime web. He finds he misses John. He can't divulge that he still lives, but he placates his need to communicate with John and still feel a connection with him by sending him blank letters. But over time, this writing exercise lends itself to Sherlock exploring his feelings for his friend. What will happen when Sherlock returns to London and the man he has been "writing" to regularly for the past two years? NOT S3 compliant. Mary who?

I Need You To See Me by Mssmithlove (E, 12,625 w., 1 Ch. || Angst, Amnesia, Soldier!John) – After going back to war, John is yet again invalided home, this time with a broken ankle and a chunk of his memory missing, unable to recall the last five years he's spent being Sherlock Holmes' partner and husband. Part 9 of Happiness Awaits

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

Wonderful, Etcetera. by Anonymous (T, 16,955 w., 3 Ch. || Wonderful Life AU || Alternate Timelines, Brotherhood, Homophobia, Suicidal Ideations, Mentions of Drug Use, Friendship, Different TRF, Sherlock’s Past, Victor Trevor is Past Boyfriend, Depression, Hallucination, Love Confessions, Christmas, First Kiss) – Sherlock thinks everyone would be better off if he had never existed, including and especially himself. When he finds himself in a world in which his wish has been granted, he begins to think perhaps even he could be wrong – but it takes an unlikely chaperone to make him not only observe, but understand.

A Life Well-Lived by Kate_Lear (E, 20,121 w., 1 Ch. || Original Male Character, Sherlock Woos John, Jealous Sherlock, Reluctant Bi-John, Past Abuse, Insecure John, Reassuring / Caring Sherlock, Protective Sherlock, Understanding Sherlock) – John got scared off men by an abusive past relationship. Sherlock has to try and woo him while not scaring him off with protective possessive rage.

Sonatina in G Minor by SilentAuror (E, 22,574 w., 1 Ch. || Post S3, Case Fic, POV Sherlock, Angst, UST, Sherlock’s Violin, Romance) – John has come back to Baker Street, but Sherlock doesn't understand the strange tension between them, even after he begins teaching John to play the violin at John's request.

Among the Secret Things by Kate_Lear (E, 26,073 w., 14 Ch. || Angst, Drama, Amnesia) – Sherlock would be the last person to describe himself as given to flights of fancy, but at the look on Lestrade’s face he could swear that something inside him curls up and dies. Part 1 of Among the Secret Things

The Kissing Disease by cottonballz_of_death (E, 30,856 w., 15 Ch. || Sick Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Case Fic, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Jealous Sherlock, Body Image Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional H/C, POV Sherlock, Oral / Anal, Thong, Frottage) – John brings home a boyfriend, shocking Sherlock, who long ago gave up hope that his straight flatmate would ever take a romantic interest in him. In a bid to reconnect with John, he tries to infect himself with a "harmless" virus. Neither of them is prepared for the emotional fallout that results.

A Promise Made to Be Broken by PlantsAreNeat (E, 37,018 w., 7 Ch. || Fake Relationship, Pining, Slow Burn, RST, Eventual Relationship, Primarily POV Sherlock) – A young John makes an ‘if we’re still single at 40, we’ll get together’ pledge to a woman who ends up all wrong for him. She keeps reminding him of the promise, and won’t let go of it. John asks Sherlock to pose as his boyfriend at a family wedding, so as to dash her hopes permanently. Sherlock, who has at last acknowledged his feelings for John, reluctantly agrees despite knowing how painful it will be to ‘have’ John, but not keep him.

Set in Stone by SilentAuror (E, 39,309 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Wedding, Therapy, Fluff and Angst) – Sherlock and John are back from Ravine Valley and planning their wedding. However, as they move past the trial of the human traffickers, Sherlock can't help but wonder if he's imagining that John is becoming a little distant. Surely he isn't getting cold feet about the wedding... Part 2 of The Ravine Valley series

In the Still of the Night by SilentAuror (E, 42,234 w., 1 Ch. || S4 Fix It / Post-S4, Sherlock POV, Angst, Drama, Romance, Virgin Sherlock, Awkwardness, Misunderstandings / Miscommunications, Case Fic, Travelling, Pining) – As locals on the Northeastern coast begin to report UFO sightings, life at Baker Street becomes significantly awkward as John brings up his desire for more than friendship and Sherlock refuses him. They embark on the investigation from the confines of the tiny cottage Mycroft has rented for them, attempting to navigate both the clues of the case as well as their own inability to communicate...

Albion and the Woodsman by Glenmore (NR [E], 54,437 w., 50 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post S3, Parentlock, Pining Sherlock, Angst, Family, Drug Use, Depression, Sherlock POV, Light Humour, Reconnecting, Declarations of Love) – Sherlock and John are devastated after Mary Morstan makes her final moves. Sherlock relapses at the crack house, John walks around the world … and a lot happens in between. Parentlock, in the good way.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Uphill by scullyseviltwin (E, 84,945 w., 18 Ch. || Olympics AU || Sherlock POV, Skier!Sherlock / Medic!John, Rivalry, 2014 Olympics, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is striving for gold in this, his fourth and final Olympics as a downhill Alpine racer.

Kintsukuroi by sussexbound (E, 91,823 w., 20 Ch. || S4 Compliant / Post-TLD, Grief / Mourning, PTSD, Internalized Homophobia, Therapy, Past Abuse, Alcohol Abuse, Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Anxiety, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Suicidal Ideation, Masturbation, Minor Character Death, Sexting, Frottage, Inexperienced Sherlock, Rimming / Anal / BJ’s, Emotional Turmoil, Finding Each Other) – “I love you.” Sherlock sees the words hit John with almost physical force. He reels back a little, jaw twitching and eyes filling. “I love you,” he repeats, a little softer, a little more gentle, as earnest as he possibly can. Because they’ve been teetering on the brink of this thing for years, and it had become painfully obvious over the last few months that they were at a tipping point. This had to happen. Now it has. Now they can see where they end up. The tears in John’s eyes spill over, and he wipes at them angrily. “Do you even know what that means?”

The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w., 23 Ch. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) –Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school's Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

The Wedding Garments by cwb (E, 105,390 w., 36 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Alternate Future AU || Alternate First Meeting, Dating / Arranged Marriages, Romance, First Kiss/Time, Heavy Petting, Cuddles, POV Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn / Falling in Love / Dev. Rel., Nervous/Anxious Sherlock, Jealous/Cranky Sherlock, Hiking, Vacation Homes / Honeymoon, Sherlock’s Family, Horny John/Sherlock, Patient John, Massages, Hand Jobs, Assassination Plots, Oral Sex, Case Fic, Emotional Love Making, Bath Time Fun) – This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

Breakable by MissDavis (E, 117,627 w., 34 Ch. || Established Relationship, Major Character Injury, Fluff/Angst, Depression, Paralysis/Disabilities, Hurt/Comfort, POV Sherlock, Mental Health Issues, Drug Use, Happy-ish Ending) – After John is seriously injured, Sherlock struggles to figure out how to help him, keep himself sane, and maybe, just maybe, get their life back to the way it's supposed to be. Part 1 of Breakable Not Broken

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #angst fics #sherlock pov fics #bamf sherlock #pining sherlock #my fic recs #long post

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viciouskoalakaur · 3 months

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Mack: Tator tots please

Waitress: Ranch, BBQ, Honey Mustard?

Mack: Yes

Waitress: Got it

#shalu shout #bamf broads #mad duck #tator tots

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sheep-and-lykos · 7 months

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Jesse McCree - NSFW Alphabet Day 12: Kinks (Day 1 of 2)

It’s no surprise that the cowboy with the shiny leather belt adorned with the big belt buckle that he polished more than his armor had a spanking kink. It was something you were able to pick up on outside of the bedroom with how much Jesse loved to swat at your behind.

Even if you were just walking past him in the hallway or squeezing into the bathroom behind him to shower, his hands would always be trying to swat at your ass. It was like a game at first, Jesse was adamant on catching you off guard to grab and spank your ass to get a rise out of you.

It translated well into the bedroom, Jesse loving nothing more than spanking and being spanked.

His favorite, obviously, was his BAMF belt. He had other belts to select from, but BAMF held a special place in his heart - and it’s also the thickest and stings more when it’s cracked against skin. He’s picked up quite a bit of different tools along the way and you both now have a secret little stash of whips, switches and crops you both love to use on each other whenever the time comes.

Oh, how sweet it felt to be on the other side. You eyed Jesse who was kneeling on the floor, the short wooden cane twirled around your fingers as you stepped around him. Jesse was panting, broad chest heaving as his eyes followed you from behind his shaggy hair.

“Have you learned your lesson yet, Jesse?” you cooed.

Your brows pinched together in false innocence, your lips curling into a cheshire smile, almost as if you were trying to lull him in a false sense of security. You heard the handcuffs clinking behind him as he rolled his shoulders back, his eyes narrowing at you as if he were challenging you.

“I don’ think I have,” your lover cocked a brow.

The cane whistled through the air before it cracked against his ass cheek like a firecracker. Jesse hissed and groaned, hunching over for a second before he straightened himself up. A fire was lit ablaze in his eyes, he was looking at you dangerously.

How far could you push Jesse before he broke?

You knew he could easily get himself out of those rinky-dink handcuffs. What was holding him back?

“Wrong answer, cowboy,” you hummed as you brought the cane back to your hand. You patted it against your palm a few times, walking somewhere behind him just out of the corner of his blind spots. “How long can you last like this?”

“Not long if ya keep up yer teasin’,” he growled. He snatched at the handcuffs, the cheap sex toy nearly broke from the jostling which sent an exhilarating thrill down your spine. “Yer gon’ regret this, ya know.”

“Am I?”

You brought the cane down, cracking it against his flank and causing the cowboy to groan loudly, nearly crumbling forward once again.

Before you could bring the cane back to your palm, Jesse had snapped part the handcuffs and stood up, catching you completely off guard as he towered above you panting like a wild animal.

#jesse mccree #mccree x reader #mccree #cole cassidy #cassidy x reader #overwatch imagines

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spacemagicandlaserswords · 9 months

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The Clone Wars 4.08 ‘The General’ Reaction Take 2

“A shrewd and temperamental leader” That’s putting it mildly

There’s so many death screams of clones in these episodes, it’s just heartbreaking.

Jeez Kix, did you have to jab the hypo that hard into the poor dude's neck? Or at least I’m assuming that’s Kix.

Fives and Rex fighting and shooting next to each other again. I love the way the kama’s fan out behind their legs. And that is a very fine shot of Rex’s very fine thighs again.

Krell just fucking rolling over a dead clone with his foot. Fucker. Do something! Don’t just wander around in the background while the clones do all the work.

There’s a lot of military tropes in the music, which makes sense.

“I dunno. Could be fun.” omg Hardcase now is not the time

Jesse, baby, please, what are you doing? You need that brain cell.

“Yeah, but General Skywalker is usually leading his men up in the front, not bringing up the rear like General Krell.” Fives again saying what everything is thinking.

The clones' accents are all over the shop again. Various different clones have all had moments of sounding Aussie, Kiwi, British and American at some point. I’m really not sure what accent they’re supposed to sound like they have at this point. In the scene where all the clones making very valid points about Krell’s tactics, Tup sounds almost British. Rex also has hints of British (that ‘air base’ sounded like a posh officer from WWII or similar). Jesse starts out sounding American (‘yah know, I’) and then suddenly veers into very broad Aussie (‘crazy before’) before finishing in … vague Antipodean? Fives definitely sounds American (the ‘a’ in ‘capital’ was definitely a broad American ‘ah’). Still not sure what Hardcase is. Chaotic probably. Dogma sounds British, also almost like a posh officer, with hints of Kiwi. Rex also has hints of Kiwi now too and Fives sounded very Aussie there. It’s also really interesting that Rex’s voice changes between talking to the Jedi and talking to fellow clones, which also makes sense. The difference is more noticeable here when it’s between dealing with Krell and talking to his men.

This hushed convo between Rex and Fives has some beautiful close up detail. You can really tell from Rex’s voice just how upset he is.

Boys, why are you crawling on the floor? What is this spider clone nonsense?

Does anyone know what the detail on the front of Fives’ bucket is? I vaguely recall reading somewhere that it’s Mandalorian inspired but I’m not entirely sure that was legit.

Oh great, a centipede tank. Just what we needed.

Yas, more Star Wars universe swearing

“We need rocket launchers” Hardcase is going to be very happy about that

Mayday? *sobs*

Rex standing there all sassy with his hands on his hips

Cackling at the clones trying to lure the centipede tanks towards them. That is not subtle boys. Though I suppose it wasn’t supposed to be. Still funny though.

Rex being an absolute BAMF. First being all ice cold under pressure waiting for the right moment to blow the detonators as the centipede tanks bear down on them. Then getting thrown through the air by the subsequent explosion that he just created. Cool guys don’t look at explosions etc etc.

“No juice left in him either.” *blam blam* Rex getting all the one liners and action hero moments.

I clocked this the first time but didn’t remember it in my first reaction post. Those flying Umbaran creatures looked like they were going to eat a dead clone, kind of like space vultures, and it’s Kix that runs up and shoots them to make sure they don’t. His “Still hungry? Chew on that!” is full of rage and shows just how pissed off he is. You can see him linger after, looking at the fallen clone, and Rex has to tell him “Hey, Kix, leave it.” It’s a very brief moment but you really get a sense of just how strongly and deeply Kix cares.

Also, Rex just casually blasts the last creature out of the sky like it's nothing. Sir, you’re showing off again.

“We’ve got a problem.” That’s an understatement

Fives little head shake when Rex asks him if he has any ideas :(

This is a fucking massacre

Omg that wounded clone was shot right in front of Kix as he was treating him. Fuck. I think there were what looked like 2 other medics also with him but I can’t quite tell.

"You sound like General Krell." The way Rex stops, you can tell that line from Kix hurt. That entire exchange between Rex and Kix was heartbreaking. They both sound so upset and angry and they’re both just trying to do the best with what they can and it’s still not enough and it’s all awful.

Why is Appo being treated like a piece of furniture to hold the holo of Rex?

“Or you will be relieved of duty.” Well at least that line is going to come back and bite Krell in the arse later on. Especially as Rex delivers in a much more badass manner.

The next 4 gifs are by @kamino-coruscant from their great gifset of this entire exchange. I usually try to use the tumblr gif search, despite it being a completely useless dumpster fire, but tumblr is refusing to cooperate and is doing weird stuff today so hopefully I've credited this as best as possible.

Hardcase: So anyway, I started blasting

Lol Fives did you really need to slide down that hill

Hardcase has ADHD confirmed. Or at least as close to confirmed in canon that we’re ever going to get. It’s not as nuanced yet obvious as the quote from Tech but I’m glad there’s more neurodivergent clones.

Fives: *minecraft villager noise*

That’s a pretty fucken big sensor wall

Oh hello close up shot of Fives’ hands

Naw, Hardcase grumbling to himself

That was a pretty damn impressive shot. Hardcase just took out the weird Umbaran creature with a single shot using a grappling hook. A grappling hook. Not a blaster. A grappling hook.

“Wow. I never actually thought that would work.” That’s not reassuring Fives!

Ok, who gave Rex a rocket launcher

Jesus H Christ that clone just got crushed by the giant tank foot

“Start pushing buttons.” STILL CACKLING

Well at least we now know what it would be like if Fives and Hardcase ever went on a roller coaster

Hardcase is having the time of his life, hanging upside down shooting enemies

Omg I am loving Fives maniacal laughter

Ahahahaha they are both loving this

Gif by @kamino-coruscant from this post

Kix screaming and shooting uncontrollably is another of those small moments that show just how affected he is by all this. You can see how much all of this has worn down on him as the episode progresses and it’s a really interesting and subtle way of showing how awful this whole situation is that even the most gentle of men, and a medic, has been pushed to his limits. Kind of like Kix represents the heart of the 501st and Torrent. Insert your own reference here to that quote about a wise man fearing the anger of a gentle man and all that.

That moment, where there’s plenty of shaky cam and you hear Rex sigh/pant/gasp for breath and shoot the rocket launcher at the tank again only for it to still be standing. You really get the sense of just how dire everything is there.

Oh that is a definitely a ‘the cavalry have arrived moment’. What a fanfare.

Was Rex surrounded by 3 tanks?!

I don’t know what it is but that shot where Fives says “Clear out, captain.” just feels really poignant for some reason. Like there’s more than just Fives and Hardcase arriving to save the day. It’s also Fives saving Rex and everything that he means to and has done for Fives (and Echo *sobs*). It’s past midnight and I’m probably reading too much into this but it just felt like a moment.

“The big guns have arrived, sir!” Hardcase sounds so happy that he’s found a bigger gun

Hardcase having the absolute time of his life there

That’s the second time Rex has eaten dirt after an explosion in this episode. Insert 2 nickles reference here.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

“Alright, let’s bring ‘em home.” I adore Fives. I just adore him so much.

“Impressive.” If that was so impressive, then WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TRY TO EXECUTE THEM FOR DOING THE EXACT SAME THING?! This fuck face needs to meet with an open air lock immediately. I didn’t think it was possible for me to hate a character this much but oh boy do I ever now.

Fire burning in yellow eyes? That’s not subtle at all.

“Despite Hardcase’s flying” Wow, savage much Rex?

“Luck has smiled on you today, Captain.” ah fuck off

Oh, his clenched fist. Oh.

Badass group shot to finish! From left to right: I can’t tell who the four clones on the left are. Fives and Rex in the middle. Then Jesse and Hardcase (with the biggest gun he could possibly find), followed by Kix and Dogma. Kix has the big triangle on his chest plate and the diagonal thick blue stripe around his thicc right thigh. Dogma has the downwards pointing blue V on his chest plate. Oooh, that means they’re visual opposites of each other. Interesting. I’ve also just realised that Fives is very blue and grey. There’s very little white on his armour. Though that may be the lighting because I’ve just googled his armour and there is actually more white on it than it looks. I do like his stripy patterned kama.

Lmao I just rewatched the start of this scene at the end and when Hardcase takes his helmet off he shakes his head like he’s shaking out his hair. Hardcase, you have no hair. You’re bald. Babe, what are you doing?

Cackling at the side eye Hardcase gives Jesse when he says he looked a little green when he came out of that fighter.

Still adoring Jesse every time he appears. There’s a gentleness to him under everything and he just seems really sweet.

Oh these boys have my heart. I’ve completely fallen for all of them. Everything for the clones.

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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 10 months

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Hi!! So I’ve been reabsorbed buy the Sterek fandom again very recently. I’ve been in the fandom during the show but now I’m here again I don’t don’t even know how. And what I’m asking for is… can I get the good stuff?? Im just looking for the best fics in the fandom the magnum opus. I love magic stiles in all shapes and forms, emissary, void, spark you name it, and of course BAMF Stiles. But that’s not a requirement I just wanna read some good stuff thats gonna make me fall in love with sterek again.

Thank you 😊

(Btw I’m sorry if this is a confusing ask)

Hey! Welcome back. Probably the best place to look for such a broad ask is the tag page. If you have something more specific in mind feel free to send another ask.

#teen wolf #admin post #tag page

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the-pen-pot · 8 months

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Fandom Creator's Self-Rec Game!

Choose five favourites from your own creations (and tell me why, if you like!), then pass on to at least five other people. I'd love to hear what you're proudest of.

Tagged by the wonderful @zaharya (whose post I have now bookmarked for later reading!)

Five of my own favourites, hmmmm. All right. Four of these are super long (all 200k+) , but the first one is relatively short for me, at somewhere around 15,000 words, for people looking for lighter reads! 😁 All are complete except Hiraeth.

Deliquesce (Merlin - Merthur - 15k)

The creatures stepped forward, long, narrow muzzles agape. The sun did not deter them, merely setting their subtle scales agleam. Thick saliva dripped from their jaws, smattering on the ground, yet they did not lunge forward to strike. Instead, they waited, their gaze unblinking as they stared. At first, Arthur thought they watched the knights, but when he shifted his stance, their eyes did not follow him, Instead, it was someone behind him who held them captivated. Merlin. ----- A chance encounter with a monster in the woods makes Arthur realise just how powerful Merlin's magic is, and the lengths he would go to in order to keep him safe.

This was meant to be a ficlet and got away from me. I particularly loved the ideas in this one, also BAMF Merlin ftw every single time! Written from Arthur's POV with some Merthury goodness towards the end.

Sorcerer's Bane (Merlin - Merthur - 264k)

Arthur gave Merlin his cloak thinking only of the warmth it would offer in a snowstorm. He never thought his manservant may be mistaken for him and snatched by bandits. Nor did he expect his dashing rescue of Merlin to turn his world so utterly on his head. Because the bandits hadn't kidnapped a prince. They'd snatched a sorcerer, and now captivity is the least of anyone's problems. A golden age awaits, but can they claim it together, or are they doomed to fail?

My first big Merthur fic, and the one where I healed from all the psychic damage done by the finale. This was my plotty, happily ever after fic, and I love it with all my heart!

Hiraeth (Merlin - Merthur - Work In Progress - 214k so far)

A hand grasped his arm, sending a brief thrill down Merlin's nerves as he was forced around to face the person behind him. Armour gleamed in the firelight: supple chainmail glinted, and the solid iron of a pauldron curved lovingly over one broad shoulder. The length of a sword blade separated them. The point hovered, steady and sure, over Merlin's heart, braced to run him through, but he did not care about any of that. He was too busy drinking in the sight of the man before him. He could never forget him, no matter how many centuries had passed. 'Arthur?' When Merlin ultimately fails in his destiny, the fading remnants of magic that linger in the modern world fling him not just back in time, but sideways as well. He ends up in a Camelot where all his friends are alive, well and aware of his magic. He ends up in a Camelot where his alternate self died almost a year ago. Can he, Arthur and their friends still forge the golden age he was once promised, or will grief and suspicion tear them apart?

Couldn't not mention my angsty, plotty wip. This fic is five billions miles outside my comfort zone. I'm currently in the "I have bitten off more than I can chew freak-out" stage of writing it and I'm still having so much fun. This fic owns my soul. Maybe one day it will release me, but I doubt it.

The Gilded Cage (Sherlock - Johnlock - 326K )

In a world where Omegas are the property of the elite Alphas, locked away and treasured by those wealthy enough to buy them, John never questioned his flatmate's secondary gender. Sherlock Holmes was an Alpha through-and through. Wasn't he? A chance discovery turns the world on its head, and John is left grappling to come to terms with Sherlock's past as events conspire to threaten their future.

The Johnlock omegaverse that nearly killed me, and the longest thing I have written (so far). I had such fun exploring potential gender dynamics and imagining how this world could be, while doing my best to keep the characters strong and true to themselves. An oldie, but according to most readers, a goody. Mixed POV

Riven Crown (The Hobbit - Bagginshield - 254k )

‘We may have won the battle, but I fear the war with winter is just beginning.’ The aftermath of war is no laughing matter. Those who died must be honoured, those who are wounded must be healed, and those who remain need food and clothing, peace and sanctuary. With Thorin's life hanging in the balance, it is up to Bilbo and the rest of the Company to rule the rag-tag remnants of Erebor in his place. Then there is the matter of the gold... Can Bilbo save both king and kingdom, or is Erebor destined to fall deeper into ruin?

My battle of the Five Armies fix it, political intrigue, everybody lives/nobody dies effort to make the the Peter Jackson movies hurt less. I think I succeeded. A much loved favourite, because my style feels like it's particularly suited to fantasy 😁

Tagging (with no pressure and apologies if any of you are not writers!) @the-reading-lemon @writingfanficsfan @cbk1000 @ajpendragon and @mojoflower (as well as anyone else who sees this and fancies it!

#Merthur #Johnlock #Bagginshield #Fic Ask

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legitimatesatanspawn · 6 months

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What if Beren and Luthien were genderbent?

Ooh, that's an interesting question.

Now, forewarning: this is just a bunch of theories and personal thoughts on the matter so don't take this as canon. It is rooted in what we do know of the families involved and a bit in how social structures work in the setting, but in this case it is completely me talking out of hand about this.

Names. This is a big thing to me because I love names and this will help me keep the idea separate from canon. Luthien is Quenyan for "flower-daughter" so let's go with one of the Quenyan suffixes for males… Luthion sounds good if a bit too on the nose. Another option for flower are Lot/Loth from Ninquelótë, Númellótë, and Vingilot. So Lótëmon? Now Beren was named after his maternal grandfather, but since I don't know his grandmother's name we'll go up the tree for his great-grandmother Adanel. I'm guessing his mother Emeldir got naming rights to go with Beren instead of him getting named after Bregor. Admittedly Lotemon and Adanel might not roll off as easily as Luthien and Beren but they work for this post.

Brief Discussion of Upbringing: Beren and Luthien Beren, or Adanel now as this will be easier. While Artanis (or Galadriel as we know her) is the biggest Noldorian female who stands out in my memory with the next one being Nerdanel who was the wife of Feanor who deserves her own loredump post, the laws of succession in Numenor which in turn are basically spread to the civilizations of Man to varying degrees in the known lands of Middle Earth are cribbed off of those of the Noldor. Which is why I'm bringing two Noldor elves up here. Basically titles go paternally to the nearest male descendant although in the case of a female eldest child she still receives family heirlooms as her birthright. (Doesn't make up for it but whatever.) Although I do remember there being a case where there were several older daughters onto whom one of the Numenorian kings tried to pass the title to but their grandmother spooked them like some grammas tend to do, so they refused and the title went to their younger brother. Now here's the fun bit: Beren's mother (much like Luthien's Melian) Emeldir is a BAMF. Her name and her title both basically were "the man-hearted woman". So Emeldir without doubt kicked ass, lived to at least 50 going by the events surrounding Dagor Bragollach (the Battle of Sudden Flame), and I like to think she raised Beren to understand important stuff like consent and a refusal being just that. So while I think that "Adanel" would be treated just as Beren would, she wouldn't get exactly the same equal treatment. But given her mother, her father would likely try anyway. So Beren's life as a woman would be largely unchanged. Luthien, or as she'll be here "Lótëmon", is still the only child of Thingol and Melian. Still half-maia, still likely beautiful and fairer beyond everything. Still probably has a thing for tall, broad shouldered, and golden-brown half-feral people spotted in the forest. Maybe a little more leeway when it comes to things and hopefully not kidnapped (which would mean no Huan) but considering he'll still be Beautiful and how beauty is often coveted in the setting… I suspect that "Lotemon" will also live largely the same life.

Quest and Future Rather than demanding the Silmaril as the brideprice, perhaps it is instead just a proof of strength or resoluteness or something. Again, Thingol would've probably thought Beren/"Adanel" would actually be able to do it but the sheer balls to go through with it and return with that damn bold claim of it being indeed still in hand when they return… The knockoff effects for the future will be different though. Luthien and Beren's story was fairly unusual and set the stage for an elf choosing a mortal, and a mortal pursing something dangerous in the name of love. A man may be viewed as brave in some societies/civilizations by their fellow men while a woman instead deemed foolish for the same actions which is disgusting but there it is. A woman using beauty to bewitch her enemies would be 'sexy' while a man doing the same would be different and perhaps seen as underhanded. Although it would be one of the goodside counterparts to Sauron's wiles and paint the idea that cleverness such as that is not always in service of selfish cruelty. It's possible that instead of singing of Luthien's beauty they'd be singing of "Lotemon" and his cunning. There's also some slightly different implications of the mortal woman dying and waiting for her love who when he joins her has to fight for the right for them to stay together in death or in life. This also means that Thingol taking in Turin would have a few more connotations of replacing his lost son instead of caring for a second child who is different from his daughter. So maybe Turin would be even more eager to run out to fight since he doesn't want to be seen as a pale shadow to "Lotemon".

TLDR Different names, slightly different upbringings, somewhat different after effects, but since the Song is a thing and the Silmarils are still a big big thing with the characters then the story would likely stay largely the same.

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