seen from China
seen from China
seen from Germany
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Ukraine
seen from Türkiye
seen from China
seen from Japan
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Costa Rica
seen from China
seen from China
seen from China
The absolute WORST part of writing a fic is at the end where they've made up/kissed/admitted their feelings but you still have to write a handful of satisfying paragraphs of denouement instead of just throwing down a smoke bomb and running away.
@merthurmicrofic | water | 50 words
Arthur wakes cradled by the low rushing of the sea; by Merlin’s fingers splayed across his chest, over his heartbeat. Protective, he thinks, but can’t remember why.
“Merlin?”
“You’re fine,” Merlin says quietly. “It wasn’t poison.”
His lips taste of salt, but Arthur can’t tell if it’s ocean or tears.
WIP Weekend!
Thanks for the tag, @diaryofatrekker ♥️
Based on @suraks-sweet-tits' post (here).
“What do you mean, you want to add sorcery to the tournament this year?” Merlin said, blinking across the table at the king. “You can’t do that. People might get hurt.” “People get hurt every year, Merlin,” Arthur said, dismissing this objection with a gesture. “It’s a fight to the death, not a ladies’ sewing circle. And I would’ve thought you’d agree that sorcerers have as much right to compete as anyone.” “But it wouldn’t be fair,” Merlin said. “You know the knights wouldn’t stand a chance against magic.” “Yes, they would,” Arthur disagreed. “I seem to recall having beaten a sorcerer or two myself easily enough.” Then his eyes narrowed. “Didn’t I?” Sheepishly, Merlin rubbed the back of his head. “Well, actually…” The resulting shouting match could be heard from one end of the castle to the other. It had concluded only when, after considerable insults and accusations on both sides, Arthur had pulled off his leather glove and flung it down at Merlin’s feet. “Fine,” he said. “Let’s settle this properly.” To his credit, Merlin had done his best to get out of it. He said it was stupid, that Arthur had nothing to prove to anyone, least of all to him, and that the Knights’ Code didn’t apply to warlocks anyway. Then, when that didn’t work, he said plainly, “I don’t want to hurt you, Arthur!” “And you won’t,” Arthur said, smugly, and honestly, Leon was impressed that Merlin was able to keep from hexing the man there and then. “Come on, Merlin. I thought you were meant to be the most powerful sorcerer in all of Camelot.” “I am the most powerful sorcerer in all of Camelot,” Merlin retorted, folding his arms as Arthur pushed back his chair. “Which is why I have better things to do than to fight my own husband in a duel.”
no-pressure tagging @groundbreakingdot872, @nebulastars, @julia-with-luv and @chiralcuckoo :)
Summary:
It's the first birthday In-ho spends with Gi-hun. Despite the complicated relationship In-ho has with birthdays, Gi-hun seems very determined to make it a good one.
Special fic for In-ho's birthday! Happy birthday, In-ho!
Bucky having a thing for his ass is really no news.
Though the guy probably thought he was being subtle, Sam noticed the way Bucky looked at him ever since the days spent together in Delacroix. And honestly, Sam suspects the ogling started way before then, he was just trying to brush it off as casual looks.
That’s why when Bucky finally corners him in the kitchen while the kids and Sarah are sleeping upstairs, to finally confess he’s been pining for him all along, Sam is mostly amused but not really surprised.
“Why does it seem like you knew all along?” Bucky asks with a husky voice while pinning Sam against the wall, leaving wide-mouthed kisses all along his throat and jaw.
Sam shivers at the touch and smirks at him. He shrugs. “Just a feeling.”
Bucky tightens his hands around his middle and stops there, but when Sam meets his eyes he finds tentativeness in them. “Go on,” he exhorts. “Touch it. I know you want to.”
The invitation leaves Bucky startled and blushing.
Sam chuckles lightly, delighted by his embarrassment, before kissing his lips softly. “You think I haven’t noticed you checking my ass? You need to work on your subtlety, Barnes.”
Bucky’s cheeks grow even redder as he stutters with pouty lips. “I wasn’t checking it.”
To make a point, Sam attempts to draw away, but Bucky’s hands immediately land on his ass to pull him back against his chest. Sam arches an eyebrow at that.
“I’m just a man, Wilson. Sue me.”
With things growing steadier between them, Sam finds out that Bucky seems to be obsessed with a more lot of things other than his ass. He loves to snuggle with his face buried in Sam’s chest, he loves to trace the veins on Sam’s lean hands, loves Sam’s strong biceps, loves Sam’s thighs, and he especially loves to make use of the latter in many, many unspeakable ways.
Still, Bucky tends to get quite shy when they’re not in bed, and Sam makes fun of it one day when they’re all curled up on the couch.
Sam’s resting with his head on Bucky’s chest, almost flat on his stomach, and although Bucky’s hand is firm on his back, Sam knows he’s holding himself back from getting lower.
Sam looks up at him and rolls his eyes. “Come on, you got me in any kind of position and you’re still acting like this?”
“I’m a gentleman, Sam, I don’t go ‘round feeling people’s body like that.”
“People’s,” Sam remarks flatly.
Bucky chuckles. “My boyfriend’s?”
“Better.” Sam shifts a little on Bucky’s chest. “Okay, whatever,” he mumbles at last, his eyes back on the tv.
Bucky stays silent for a while, to the point Sam has almost forgot what they were talking about when he finally speaks again. “You seriously wouldn’t mind?”
“Mh?” Sam asks absently, his eyes trained on the screen.
“Me touching your ass.”
Bucky’s flat tone has him jolting up with wide eyes. He can’t help but laugh at Bucky’s confused face. “Jesus, Buck. I appreciate the whole consent thing, but you don’t need to ask.”
Bucky pretends to get offended but soon enough they’re kissing and thinking about way more things than a clap on his ass.
I.
Therefore when it first happens, Sam’s startled to say the least. It’s late in the morning, and he comes stumbling into the kitchen yawning and wearing nothing but a pair of briefs on.
They’ve been together for a couple of months now. At first, Bucky still pretended to pack his things at the end of the weekend and head back to New York, but soon enough he starts spending weeks at Sam’s place, and he ends up moving in without actually stating that out loud. So now they’re living together, and it feels like there was never a time where they didn’t.
Bucky’s already up that morning, flipping terrible looking pancakes. He tries, but he always ends up burning the most of them. Sam eats the burnt pancakes anyway, because when you have a super soldier boyfriend who cooks for you shirtless, who’s really complaining?
“Hey, Buck,” he greets getting to the counter.
Bucky turns to look at him and beams. “Good morning, sunshine.”
It’s still a pleasant feeling finding Bucky around, seeing him at ease and giving him those heart eyes that Sam knows he’s the reason for.
He leans in and leaves a quick kiss on Bucky’s upward lips, and when Sam draws away, Bucky keeps staring at him a moment longer. He makes a cocky smile that soon turns into an horrified expression. “Shit,” Bucky mumbles as he flips the pan.
Smoke hovers over the stove, and Bucky tries to save whatever’s left of the pancakes.
“I really don’t understand why you insist on baking. Leave the cooking to those who can do it,” Sam remarks with a chuckle. He rolls his eyes and gets to the fridge.
“I know how to cook,” comes Bucky’s whining voice. “You’re distracting.”
Sam doesn’t rise to the bait, still his heart flips at Bucky’s observation and his head gets fuzzy. He opens the door to the fridge and stares at the shelves for a moment. They really need to buy groceries, the empty shelves look sad and almost mocking. He’s about to grab a juice box when a hand squeezing his ass makes him jump in surprise.
“Sorry, buddy, need to take something,” Bucky says taking a peek inside the fridge as well.
Sam turns to look at him with wide eyes. “What the fuck?” he almost screeches. He stares at Bucky, the ghost of his grip still on his lower back.
In response, Bucky makes a confused but proud face at once. “You okay?”
They stare at each other for a moment, then Bucky’s smug smile falls and he starts worrying his lip. “You said I didn’t need to ask-“
Sam cuts him off with a sudden kiss, to which Bucky reacts with enthusiasm. They end up fucking on the kitchen counter and this time the burnt pancakes are not entirely to blame on Bucky.
READ THE REST ON AO3
Based on this post by @amunzai
Ruined On The Sofa ── .✦ 3k .ᐟ.ᐟ
A 18+ Xavier one-shot .ᐟ.ᐟ
A sequel to 'Claimed On The Countertop' .ᐟ.ᐟ
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/67437631 .ᐟ.ᐟ
WRITEBLR INTRO
hi, i’m SNOW. she/her. infp. twenties. welcome to my little library corner. masterlist.
