#That's where this fic came from - but then it changed again into the fandom this fic is

[sysig]

I got about 700 words into my Notes app and then decided, yeah actually I should probably write this down somewhere for realsies

[five-bi-five-mind]

Could you please make a fic of Wanda and reader. Vision kisses Wanda even though they are broken up. Reader punches Vision and Wanda proves to reader she only loves the reader. Smut at the end bd happy ending please

I'm Yours Too

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!Reader

Words: 9.5k+

Genre: Angst & Smut

Summary: Vision doesn't take the sight of you on his ex girlfriend's arm very well. What was supposed to be a night of Wanda proudly showing off her lovely girlfriend turned into a night that almost broke the both of you. But Wanda isn't one to let you get away so easily.

Warnings: Toxic!Wanda, jealous!Wanda, possessive!Wanda, alcohol use, mentions of cheating but not really (it's a misunderstanding), top!Wanda, bottom!Reader, fingering, strap on use (all r receiving), magic strap, also cum strap with a tiny bit of a breeding kink...

A/N: This doesn't 100% follow your prompt, anon, but it's pretty darn close! Also ha... don't know what came over me with the smut oops. I just really love writing toxic Wanda railing reader I guess....

Agreeing to go to this party was a big mistake. At least that’s what you were beginning to believe as the minutes ticked by and you were still sitting alone at the bar, two and a half drinks down when you thought you’d only have one. But then again, you also thought your girlfriend wouldn’t ditch you for so long to go god knows where. 

Crowds weren’t your thing either and Wanda knew that. So when she got invited to Tony’s extravagant party she knew she would have to do some convincing. Luckily for her, she also knew exactly how to get you to agree. Right now, as you sat nervously in a sea of party goers, downing your third drink, you were really regretting how easily you folded.

Your fingers tapped on the bar counter as you considered ordering a fourth since Wanda was still nowhere in sight. The alcohol would calm your nerves hopefully, but the rational side of your brain told you to slow it down. You weren’t drunk, but you definitely weren’t sober either. It might be best to keep yourself as level as you can be while teetering that line between tipsy and drunk. At least until you find Wanda.

It didn’t help that, not only had Wanda ditched you, but the moment you two got there she was preoccupied with whoever was blowing up her phone. You assumed that was why she told you she needed a moment and made her way through the crowd without you. What also added to your frustration was that you couldn’t find a single soul you knew. Natasha had graciously thought to text you to tell you she would be there but was running late. At this point, between waiting for your girlfriend and waiting for your best friend for what you think is about thirty minutes, your patience was wearing thin. 

You decided to give it just five more minutes. If you didn’t see Wanda return to your side or Natasha to swoop in and rescue you, then you’d go hunt down your girlfriend. The only thing was now you couldn’t decide if you wanted to drag her back to the bar and then freely let yourself get drunk with her watchful eye on you as you let go of your anxiety or drag her ass back home and into the comfort and safety of your very cozy bed. You were leaning towards the second option.

No matter how many times you checked your phone, it didn’t change the fact that you had no new notifications. Not from Wanda, not from Nat, not from a single person you thought might be at that party. No, the only notification you got was the warning that your phone battery hit 10%. With a heavy sigh, you decided that was the sign to go find someone you knew. Preferably your missing girlfriend, who you were now quite frustrated with.

Pushing yourself off the bar, your eyes set their sights on the exit to the main hall of the party. You’d scour the entire place if you needed to so you could find your girlfriend and hopefully convince her to get the hell out of here. You’d already been scanning the crowd in the main part of the event and you’d definitely caught at least a glimpse of her red hair through the crowd, but alas she was nowhere insight.

With gusto, you pushed through the crowd until you reached the exit of the crowded room and was just met with a few scattered groups of people here and there in the halls leading up to the main event space. You took a deep breath, you might not have been outside necessarily, but at least you were away from all the excitement and the reduced noise was refreshing to you. Quickly, but still carefully as you scanned your surroundings, you made your way through the rest of the building. Still no Wanda. You were getting farther and farther away from the party and deeper and deeper into the more secluded parts of the convention center. Tony really picked a maze to rent out, you thought as you chose random halls to turn and search through.

All the while, you were checking your phone. You had sent more than a few texts to Wanda, each conveying a little more of your frustration than the last. None of those messages went answered, let alone read. What was worse was there was still no sign of Nat. She promised to text you the moment she arrived and you at least trusted her to keep her word, so you knew you at least wouldn’t run into her in these halls. 

After a few more turns, you realized the sound of the party’s booming music was now nothing more than a dull hum. You were probably on the complete opposite side of the building. Your hopes in finding Wanda were starting to diminish and for a second you seriously contemplated just calling a car to take you home. But as if by some miracle you finally heard her voice echo down the hall. 

Your pace picked up as you followed the sound of her voice. Finally, you could get the hell out of this place. Being left at the party for so long had already made you ready to leave, but having to search through an unfamiliar place for so long meant you weren’t going to budge on that decision. Wanda was going to take you home and there wasn’t going to be any argument about it. 

“Wanda, where did you go?” You said as you caught a glimpse of her when rounding the corner of the hall. “I’ve been looking all over for-“ You cut yourself off when she was fully in view. Only she wasn’t alone. Stopping dead in your tracks the scene before you felt like a gut punch. There she was, Wanda, the woman you love, wrapped in the arms of the man she used to be with. Your world felt like it shattered in two seconds.

Neither heard you, but Vision was the first to see you. He pulled from Wanda’s lips to lock eyes with you. His face was devoid of any emotion when he took in your shocked expression. As if he didn’t realize he was taking away the one person you love most in this world. As if what you caught him doing was nothing to him.  

Wanda’s reaction was the exact opposite of Visions when their kiss broke, but you didn’t notice. Your eyes locked on the man who was currently all over your girlfriend. You couldn’t begin to look at Wanda, but if you did you would’ve noticed the way her body was absolutely ridged in Vision’s embrace. The moment Wanda realized Vision had pulled away, her hands pressed hard to his chest and she gave a powerful shove. His arms fell from her, but when he didn’t even acknowledge her fuming in front of him, she turned to see where he was staring off to. 

And then her heart stopped. The anger Wanda showed towards Vision immediately transformed into concern as her eyes locked onto your face. Wanda knew what this looked like, and it wasn’t good. 

Wanda didn’t have to read your mind to understand exactly what you thought this whole ordeal was, she could see it written all over your face. The problem is, it really wasn’t what it looked like. 

Wanda had been getting bombarded with messages from Vision from the very minute she arrived with you at Tony’s party. He caught a glimpse of her with you on his arm and it sparked something in him to decide tonight was a night to make a stand. After messages flooded in, Wanda’s mood was souring when she was really hoping to enjoy this night and show you off to everyone as hers and hers alone. Only, she couldn’t do that when she was getting increasingly pissed off with Vision and she was growing concerned he’d make a scene. So, she gave in and abandoned you at the bar to go have what was supposed to be a brief chat. She knew you’d be frustrated by this, but she had hoped she’d be back quick enough to make it up to you. Wanda was incredibly wrong. 

Vision and Wanda argued back and forth for well over half an hour. Wanda was clearly standing her ground, but unfortunately so was Vision. When Wanda felt more and more buzzes from her phone as the arguing went on she knew when she returned to your side you’d be pretty angry with her and then there went her evening of parading her girlfriend around proudly for the world to see. So, since the argument with Vision was getting nowhere Wanda tried to cut him off and just walk away. But “tried” is the key word here, because before she knew it he caught her off guard.

Vision was never one to make bold moves. When Wanda was with him, he was always incredibly predictable. It was part of the reason they didn’t work. He was just… boring. There was no spark. But tonight, Vision was a little less predictable than Wanda expected. Before she could turn she found herself pulled back and into his chest and within a blink suddenly she found his cold lips pressed to hers. Immediately, she wanted to retch. The feeling of anyone touching her in any kind of way felt wrong to her, when she found you she knew you were the one she’d been searching for. To even think about being with anyone other than you in any sort of intimate way made her skin crawl, so to have Vision’s lips pressed against hers felt like the most unnatural thing in the world. It made her want to rip his lips off, if she was being totally honest. 

Admittedly, it took her a moment to get over the shock of his bold, but incredibly uncalled for actions, but when she did register exactly what was happening that was when the rage set in. That was also, unfortunately, a moment after you saw the scene as it unfolded. 

So now, here all three of you were. Vision still oblivious to the rage he caused in Wanda. Wanda was looking at you with a mixture of panic and sympathy, knowing exactly what you must be thinking right now. And then there was you, still just standing there utterly frozen.  

Your eyes finally drifted over to where Wanda stood and the look she was giving you made your stomach painfully turn. Wanda’s eyes were glued to you and all you could see in them was extreme guilt. Did she feel guilty she got caught? Did she feel guilty she just witnessed your heart break in front of her? Whatever that guilt was, it suddenly turned your shock into pure anger.  

Your mouth opened and closed, trying to find the right words to respond to the shit show in front of you, but then you realized there were none. You wanted to scream and curse and, honestly, knock Vision’s lights out if you even thought that was possible. However, you knew none of that was productive and you also knew if you started screaming you’d also start crying and you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of that. You didn’t want to break yet, not in front of Wanda and especially not in front of Vision.

So, you start to turn around. Your current plan: cut and run. This place is so much of a fucking maze, you were sure you could lose Wanda while you waited for a car to come. 

Except, you should’ve known Wanda was faster than you, so when you started to speed walk away she left Vision in the dust to follow right on your heel.

“Wait, fuck, just wait!” Wanda yelled from behind you. You shook your head, there was no way you wanted to hear her out. Your blood was boiling and you could already tell you were two seconds away from losing your cool. You just had to get a fucking car and then you could lose it in the comfort of your own home. “Come on, where are you even going?” 

“Away from you,” You said over your shoulder. It was a miracle you were even able to dodge bumping into anyone as you were struggling to escape Wanda and call an Uber at the same time. There were a lot of factors that were making it way too difficult for you to escape a determined Wanda who was aggressively following you. One of the factors was that your hands were shaking so badly you could barely type what you needed to type in order to pick the right destination to get home and another factor was that your phone somehow ended up going from 10% to 1% in the time it took for you to find Wanda in the first place. Right before you were about to hit the button in the app to order your escape car, your screen went black and you stopped in your tracks. 

“Fuck!” You howled, half tempted to throw your phone across the hall. 

“Let me take you home,” Wanda stopped right behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “We can talk.”

You jerked away from her touch as if it burned and when you spun around, seeing that look of guilt again pissed you off even further. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“(Y/N), just come on, let's go to the car.” Wanda’s voice was level, calm even. She was doing her best to be patient and understanding, because she knew what you must be thinking. She would’ve been furious too if the positions were switched. However, the more calm she sounded the more you thought she was being condescending, even if there was no indication of that in her tone. You were just too hurt and angry to really pay attention to much else at the moment. 

“I’ll find another way,” You spat. “I don’t want to be near you right now. I can’t even fucking look at you.”

That hit a nerve. For a split second you saw frustration towards you flash on Wanda’s features, but then in a blink it was gone and her composure came back. Wanda didn’t want to spend the night screaming at each other, she was going to at least try to avoid that. If she could calm you down she could explain and start making it up to you, but your behavior was quickly testing her. 

“(Y/N), stop it.” Wanda’s voice was more firm as she spoke. “Let’s just go. How are you going to even get home without me? Your phone is dead. What’s your plan?”

“I’ll take her.” The two of you turned to follow the voice and to your relief there came Nat from the other end of the hall.  

Natasha had some great fucking timing. You didn’t want to be near Wanda for another second and now finally your best friend was there to save the day. You didn’t even know how she found you in this place, but you were too thankful to even question it. 

“Come on,” Nat extended a hand towards you. “I’ll take you home.” She nodded at you encouragingly, soft eyes meeting yours. She didn’t know what this was about, but she didn’t need much context to know that somehow Wanda majorly fucked up. Nat knew it was only a matter of time before that happened. She saw how territorial Wanda was with you and for some reason, Nat never trusted it. So, unfortunately for Wanda, Nat became almost as fiercely protective of you as she was. 

“Okay,” You let out a shaky sigh of relief. “Okay, yeah.” You took her hand and that’s when Wanda’s patience was really wearing thin. 

“I can take her home,” Wanda stepped in front of Nat quickly before she could pull you away. “We,” Wanda turned her eyes to look at you, “Need to seriously talk.” 

“She said she didn’t want to, Wanda.” Nat answered for you. The glare she gave Wanda would make anyone else cower in fear, but directed towards Wanda it only angered her more. “I’m taking her home.” 

“And what then?” Wanda challenged. Nat knew exactly what Wanda was implying. As much as you told Nat you reassured Wanda that the thing between you two was platonic, Nat knew Wanda refused to believe you. 

“I’m just dropping her off.” Nat didn’t miss a beat, refusing to back down from Wanda’s attempts to intimidate her.

“Sure you are,” Wanda scoffed. 

“Wanda!” You interrupted. This was ridiculously and you just wanted to go home. Right now really isn't the time to deal with a fight between the two people who care about you most, or at least who you thought did. “You’re not one to talk and I’m leaving right now.”  With that you tugged on Nat’s hand and began to walk in any direction that didn’t lead to Wanda. You’d find your way out of this place somehow, hopefully, but right way or not you didn’t want to look at your girlfriend any longer. “Don’t follow us!” You ordered behind you as you dragged Nat with you.

Wanda stood there and watched you walk away. She wasn’t going to follow you, she already had a better plan. She was going to beat you home. After all, she did have a key to your place. Was it the best plan to corner you and get you to talk? No, Wanda thought this would definitely be a night full of yelling and arguing now, but she didn’t really give a fuck. She wasn’t going to leave Natasha alone with you while you were in this state. No matter what, Wanda just didn’t quite trust Nat with you. Whether Nat realized it herself or not, Wanda knew there was more to her feelings. She watched the way Natasha looked at you, she didn’t need to read her mind to know what her intentions were. 

So as soon as the two of you were out of sight, Wanda rushed to her car. She was going to make sure she got there first. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The car ride with Natasha was silent, but you were incredibly thankful for that. You just sat with your eyes glued to the window. The passing scenery not even registering to you, all you saw was that scene of Vision kissing Wanda replaying over and over again. Natasha didn’t question what happened, she knew if you wanted to talk you would. Instead, she just drove, her eyes flicking over to you every once in a while to make sure you were okay. 

When you both pulled up to your place, you asked Nat if you could sit in the car for a little bit, not quite ready to walk into your empty home and break down. 

“What happened?” Nat tentatively asked, breaking the silence after a few minutes of you just sitting and staring at your front door. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” She quickly added, trying her best not to push you into doing or saying anything you didn’t want to.

“She kissed Vis.” Your voice was barely a whisper, your hands balling into fists on your lap. Natasha just stared at you for a moment. If she already wasn’t pissed with the scene she witnessed at Tony’s party, now she was furious. 

“Whatever you need,” Nat offered, “I’m here.” She knew from your tone you didn’t want to give much more information, so she didn’t press. She just offered you what space she could and waited patiently as you both sat in silence for a few more minutes. 

After some time went by, you finally nodded  to yourself and started to get out of the car. Nat insisted on walking you in. You didn’t protest much, you understood she was concerned about you. Natasha’s intention was just to give you a moment to collect yourself once you sat at home and give you the opportunity to talk more, cry, whatever you needed. She figured you could tell her then if you wanted her to leave or not, but if you wanted her to stay she’d be the shoulder you needed to cry on. 

So she followed you in, but what neither of you noticed was the familiar car parked on the other side of the street .

“I thought she was just going to drop you off.” You heard the voice in the dark the minute you and Nat walked in the door. It startled the hell out of you, but Nat just seemed unphased. She was somewhat expecting this behavior from Wanda. Natasha had hoped you two would make it time, so she could protect you while you did what you needed to heal from whatever pain Wanda caused. Obviously, that wasn’t going to be how the rest of tonight played out. 

Reaching over, you flipped the lights on only to see Wanda sitting on the couch, arms folded over her chest and clear irritation written all over her face. You expected Wanda to chase after you, but you didn’t expect her to let herself into your place or to even beat you to it. Right now, you were really regretting giving her a key. 

“How did you get here before us?” Was the only thing you could think to say as you stared at the one person you really didn’t want to be looking at right now.

“I should be asking you why it took you so long.” Wanda said, clearly still annoyed by Natasha’s presence. Meanwhile, Nat was just standing beside you, her arms folded just like Wanda’s, with a matching annoyed expression on her face. “What were you two doing in the car for so long?” You didn’t miss what Wanda was insinuating and you didn’t like it one bit. 

“We were talking.” Natasha answered for you. “I was comforting her.” Wanda’s lips twitched at that and you knew Nat just hit a nerve. You bit your lip to stop the taunting smirk you wanted to give Wanda. Anything that pissed Wanda off felt a little like a small victory. She was jealous? Good, you thought, now she had the smallest taste of how you were feeling. 

“I’m sure you were,” Wanda gave a tight lipped smile. “But we need to talk so I suggest you leave now.”

“I’m not leaving until she asks me to.” You looked at Nat in awe as she held her ground, not even phased by the brewing rage that showed in Wanda’s eyes. She stood by you, unwavering in her resolve. “I think it’s you who should leave.”

“Oh do you?” Wanda scoffed. “I’m not leaving. She’s my girlfriend, or have you both forgotten?” 

“I think you’re the one that forgot that, Wanda.” You finally speak, fists clenching as you stand practically shaking. How dare she try to be territorial after she did what she did? You weren’t going to stand for this or for the way she was treating Nat. “And I agree with Nat. You should go.”

Wanda’s eyes left Nat’s for a moment and when they reached you, you could almost see them soften. She could tell you were hurting, could tell you were confused. All she wanted to do was clear the air, reassure you that what you saw was a misunderstanding that she doesn’t and would never want Vision in the way she wanted you. If she could just talk to you without Natasha’s frustrating presence then everything would be okay, she was sure of it. It would take some convincing, but you’d understand. She’d make you understand. 

But then, Nat placed her hand on your waist and something inside Wanda snapped. You saw her eyes zero in on the contact Natasha made with you and you didn’t miss the way her eye practically twitched as anger began to rise yet again. “I’m not leaving.” Wanda held her ground. She was sure as hell not going to let you be alone, vulnerable and hurting with someone like Natasha to come prey on your current state. Wanda wasn’t a fool, she could practically picture what would happen. “Not until we talk. Alone.” 

You looked from Wanda to Nat. On the one hand, you really wanted your closest friend to stay by your side, on the other hand you could imagine things would get ugly if Nat were to stay. It was clear, Wanda really wasn’t going to leave until you two talked. Either way, you imagined things would get ugly, but at least you could save yourself a little bit from even more embarrassment by having Natasha avoid the total blow up that you knew was bound to happen.

“It’s okay, Nat.” You heard yourself say before you could really register your decision. “I’ll be okay, why don’t you head home?”

Nat’s jaw clenched as she glared at Wanda for a moment before looking back at you. “Are you sure?” You felt her hand squeeze your waist gently where it rested and all you saw in your friend’s eyes was concern. “I don’t have to-”

“She said she wanted you to head home.” Wanda cut her off, stalking towards the two of you. 

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Nat spit, not even bothering to look over at Wanda as she came closer. “I can stay,” she reassured you.

You shook your head. Wanda was two seconds away from making this even worse than it already was. You weren’t entirely sure what Wanda would do to Nat, and you knew Nat could hold her own, but you also didn’t necessarily want to test any of that. “It’s okay, really.” You placed your hand over the hand Nat still had resting on your shoulder. “If anything happens,” You said in a hushed voice. “I’ll call you.”

“Please do,” Natasha urged. She looked back between you and where Wanda stood. Thankfully Wanda stopped just a few feet from you both, seemingly satisfied for now that Natasha was agreeing to leave. She felt triumphant that clearly, even when upset with her, you knew to choose her in situations like this. If she wasn’t still so concerned with getting through to you, she would be gloating at the fact that you chose her. Of course, she had no doubt that you wouldn’t. You were hers and she knew that you knew that. Then again, she also thought you would never believe so easily that she would just willingly touch and be touched by another, not when you two were so clearly in love. But then, here you both were. 

You gave Natasha one more nod of reassurance and Nat just looked back at you, hesitant to take her eyes off you for even a second, but the tap of Wanda’s foot told her if she didn’t leave things would escalate even further fast. So, with great hesitation, she turned from you, giving you one last concerned look before heading out the door and closing it behind her. 

It was silent for a moment. Your eyes were glued to the door Natasha had just walked out of and Wanda’s were glued to you. Neither of you knew how to start, but you knew if you started you’d just dig in. You were hurting and two seconds away from starting an all out war with Wanda, but you also knew that wouldn’t be productive. If you were being honest, the only thing you wanted to do now that Nat was gone was crawl into bed and sob your eyes out. 

“(Y/N), it wasn’t what it looked like.” Wanda finally broke the silence, taking another step towards you. 

You just scoffed and walked past her to the bedroom, making sure to not-so-gently brush her shoulder as you passed. If you two were going to have this fight you needed a minute. At least you wanted to change out of your party clothes. “That’s a cliche,” You said over your shoulder as you walked into the bedroom. Wanda just stood there stunned for a moment, not used to getting the cold treatment from you. It was quickly beginning to irritate her. 

Turning on her heels, Wanda was right behind you in a matter of moments, following you straight into the bedroom. “It wasn’t,” Wanda insisted, watching as you walked into your closet and began to pull out different clothes.

“I’ve heard this all before,” You called from the closet as you dug for more comfortable clothes. “I know this story. I was just stupid to think…” You stopped and shook your head before gathering your clothes. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to hear it, Wanda. I honestly still want you to leave.” 

“Just let me explain,” Wanda sighed, sitting herself down on your bed while she waited for you to come back out of the closet. With clothes in your hand, your eyebrow quirked as you saw her get comfortable. Something about the image of Wanda in your room, on your bed, after you saw what you saw was making you feel more bitter. It made you think back to the kiss you witnessed and made you wonder how many times Wanda was in his bed since being with you. 

“Get up and turn around.” You commanded as you stood right outside of your closet. 

“What?” Wanda eyed you curiously. “Why?”

“I’m going to change.”

“I’ve seen you naked before,” Wanda deadpanned.

Yes, she certainly has, but the idea of her seeing you like that now made your stomach churn. Being vulnerable like that with her was a privilege you gave to her when you thought she was only being that intimate with you. Now, though, everything has changed. “I don’t care.” Your tone was harsh. “Get Up. Turn Around.”

Wanda stared you down for a moment. You just stared back with exasperation and Wanda realized you wouldn’t budge on this. With a loud and dramatic huff, she got up from where she sat herself on your bed and turned as you began to pull off your party clothes and slip into something more comfortable.

It didn’t sit right with Wanda that you had her turn around. It was one little crack in her hopeful plan to convince you. It was a sign that you were slipping from her and the thought of that sent anxiety creeping up her spine. She tried to tell herself it was just your way of punishing her for the scene you saw. Once you understood it would be okay, she told herself. It had to be okay. 

“You can turn around now.” You said and immediately Wanda jumped at the opportunity to look at you again. She hoped that if you saw the sincerity in her eyes you’d be convinced faster that she wasn’t cheating on you, but when she saw you look at her with nothing but an aloof expression, she was worried it wouldn’t be so easy. Not only that, but she was already struggling to keep her composure with your stubborn attitude. 

“Can we talk now?” Wanda was trying so hard to be gentle about this. She knew she had already lost her cool a few times tonight, especially with Natasha, and that wasn’t going to win her any points but she still really just needed you to hear what happened. 

“Talk.” You muttered, standing in front of Wanda with your arms crossed, trying to appear as closed off from her as possible. Wanda felt that crack in her hopes and composure once more, but she shook it off for a second and took the opportunity you were giving her. 

“Vision kissed me.” Wanda started. “I didn’t kiss him.”

You just rolled your eyes at that. One thing you knew for sure if you were to even consider believing Wanda was that you were going to need more explanation than that to make this all okay. Even then how stupid did Wanda take you for? Vision might have kissed her, but she wasn’t the one to pull back either.

“Mhm, and that still makes it okay how?” 

“I didn’t kiss him!” Wanda exclaimed in frustration. “It wasn’t me who did that!”

“Yeah, but you didn’t stop him either did you?” Wanda’s patience wasn’t the only one’s who was running up. You already didn’t want to hear her excuses tonight and she was doing a horrible job at convincing you of tonight’s fiasco being about anything other than selfish actions by two people to hurt you. 

“I was shocked,” Wanda sighed, knowing that she was sounding less convincing by the second, but still she wasn’t going to let this go. She wasn’t about to lose you. “He caught me off guard and it took me a minute to react. Didn’t you see me shove him away? Didn’t you see how angry I was?”

“Yeah, you only did that after you both realized I got there.” You scoffed. 

“No,” Wanda shook her head adamantly. “No, I didn’t know you were there.” 

“Sure.” You really weren’t buying any of this. Even if it was true that she wasn’t expecting the kiss, that she didn’t want it, there was something still nagging at you. “Why did you even leave me to go see him in the first place?”

“I just wanted a nice night,” Wanda offered. “He wanted to talk, so I agreed and thought after we could get on with our evening.”

“You left me alone for over thirty fucking minutes, Wanda!” All of these excuses Wanda was giving you felt like it was belittling the hurt you felt. You knew you hadn’t really let her talk long but you were already tired of hearing all of it. You were tired of this conversation and you were about done. “Why didn’t you even think to tell me it was him you were going to meet? Do you know how suspicious that looks?”

“I know, I know!” Wanda pleaded. “But there’s nothing going on between us. You have to believe me.”

“How?” You sneered. “How am I supposed to believe you? Obviously, there’s something going on. Otherwise he wouldn’t have kissed you.” 

“(Y/N), there’s not and you know it. You’re just too angry to listen to reason.” Wanda took a step closer to you, trying her best to get through to you with as much patience as she could muster after this trying evening. “You just need to calm down and-”

“Don’t.” You seethed. “Don’t tell me what I need to do. What you need to do, Wanda, is leave. Now. I’m done talking for the night.” That was it, you had it for one evening. Wanda accusing your emotions of skewing your perspective may have been right but it wasn’t what you wanted to hear right now. You didn’t really want to hear anything, you didn’t even want to talk tonight but here you were. On your part, you thought you heard her out way more than she deserved for the night. Especially when you felt like you made it clear you didn’t have much interest in doing this tonight in the first place. 

“I’m not leaving.” Wanda held her ground in front of you. You two just stayed there for a moment, staring. Your expression challenging her to back down, hers daring you to push her further. Your fists clenched and unclenched as you tried to figure out your next move and then it dawned on you. If she wasn’t going to leave you were. And since you were beyond hurt and angry, you knew you leaving her there alone to soak in the mess she made was perfect punishment for the pain she caused you. 

Without a word you turned and started rushing around the room, gathering a few things you’d need for an overnight stay elsewhere. Wanda constantly questioned you as she watched you scurry around the room, but she didn’t stop you just yet. She had hope you’d stop and come to your senses before you got too far. All you did was dodge her questions and keep on moving. You hadn’t exactly figured out where you’d go for the night, but if she wasn’t going to leave you weren’t going to stay and you were pretty sure you’d figure out where to go once you actually got out away from Wanda. With clothes stuffed in your arms and your keys in hand, you thought the only good thing about this situation was the anger and shock had sobered you up very quickly. You had a few drinks at the party, but that isn't affecting you as much anymore. The one thing that might affect your driving was the threat of tears that might spill once you were completely alone. It was a risk worth taking, you told yourself, because one more moment next to Wanda and you were going to break down in front of her. That was still something you wanted to avoid. 

You reached the door, your hands still full as you struggled to turn the knob and open it. In two quick strides Wanda was right behind you, her hand reaching in front of you to slam the door shut the minute you had it barely cracked. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?” She hissed through clenched teeth. Obviously, you hadn’t come to your senses in time so she realized she had to step in and stop you before you did something reckless. 

“If you’re not going to leave, then I guess I will.” You turned slowly, trying to glare Wanda down and not show any sort of reaction to the anger burning in her eyes.

“Where will you go then, huh? To Nat’s?” Wanda practically spit Natasha’s name out her mouth as she spoke. “What so Vision kisses me and now you’re going to go fuck your buddy?”

Your eyes widened in shock at that. “What are you even talking about, Wanda?” You had always known Wanda was a jealous person and she was definitely not subtle about her disdain for Natasha, but you didn’t actually think she’d accuse you of that. Then again, you also didn’t think she’d cheat on you with Vision, but here you two were. “There’s nothing between me and Nat, but you’d think that wouldn’t you? Paranoid about us? Makes sense, if you’re seeing Vision behind my back of course you’d be worried I’d be doing the same thing with someone else.”

“I told you,” Wanda said through gritted teeth. “Vision kissed me. I am not with him.”

“Why didn’t you pull back? Why were you in his arms? It didn’t look like that!” You asked again, daring her to give you a better answer. Actually no, you didn’t want to give her another opportunity for a shitty excuse, you just really wanted to leave. It was just hard to actually do that when Wanda still had a firm hand on the door, keeping it shut as she cornered you between her arms. “Well, Wanda, you can go be with Vision. I don’t care! I don’t care who you fuck and you don’t have any right to care if I go out and fuck Natasha.” Not like you would, but at this point you just wanted her to feel the hurt you were feeling. “I’m leaving.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Wanda’s voice wasn’t a yell anymore. It was low, dangerous, and threatening. You did manage to hurt her, but even worse, you managed to make her absolutely rage too. Wanda’s hands left the door and quickly went to either side of your waist, her nails digging into your skin through your shirt as she not so gently pushed you against the door. “Do I need to remind you that you’re mine?”

Your jaw clenched, your anger has already obviously gotten the better of you, but now it’s gotten the better of Wanda too. She got angry, sure, but she was always careful around you. She had good control of it, at least usually. She knew that if she went off around you it could scare you, and that was the last thing she wanted. So she reined it in for you, but now you were threatening to go be with someone else? She couldn’t have that. All of this started because of Vision and Wanda silently made a promise to herself to take care of him at a later date, but right now she needed you to understand just how badly you fucked up now. And as you watched Wanda seeth in front of you, you were beginning to regret those words.

“Wanda, you don’t just get to own me and go fuck around with Vision.”

“For the last fucking time I am not!” Wanda’s words echoed throughout the room. Her eyes swirled with red magic and you knew that was a sign that Wanda was very quickly losing any ounce of control she had left. The red in her eyes burned like fire as she stared you down. You felt her fingers dig harder into your skin as she held you and you could tell she was trembling at this point too. She was beyond control now as she had you pinned to the door. “And I do own you,” Wanda hissed before pressing herself fully to you.

You grunted at the feeling of her pressing you impossibly close to the door. Your hands went up to her shoulders to shove at them, to try to get her to back off, but it was like she didn’t even notice. Which, that would make sense considering you knew Wanda was much stronger than you. Wanda leaned in so close to you that you felt her breath ghost your lips and in any other moment you would’ve been weak at the knees, but with the way the look in her eyes was completely unhinged, her close proximity only made you gulp. 

 “I have never,” she put as much emphasis on each word as she spoke, “been with Vision since I met you.” Wanda was speaking in a whisper now, but you didn’t miss the way her lips twitched in anger. You also didn’t miss the way you felt Wanda pin you more with her body than her hands and then you realized it was her way of being able to move them freely without the risk of you running.

One of her hands moved up until she was gripping your chin while the other started to snake down your body. With her hold on you, you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to, but that wasn’t your main concern. Your main concern was the feeling of Wanda popping the button of your pants open. “Wanda…” This time all the anger left your voice and the only emotion it had in it was fear. This wasn’t something you wanted to happen with Wanda. She was always loving and gentle with you. You weren’t used to this side of her. Wanda had talked to you about the darker sides of her, but you never imagined you would see it full force, but now here you were. And you were honestly a little bit to blame. You pushed her buttons, you wanted to hurt her and hurt her you did. It should’ve been obvious that Wanda’s response to hurt wouldn’t be the best. 

“You’re mine, (Y/N),” Wanda whispered before turning your chin with her hand, letting your neck be exposed to her. “But don’t worry… I’m yours too.” WIth that you felt Wanda’s teeth sink into your neck and the hands that were once trying to push her away grabbed fist fulls of her shirt. 

“Wanda!” You tried to sound firm but your voice quivered as you spoke, obviously affected by the way Wanda’s teeth dragged down your skin, even if you didn’t want to be right now. You knew, you should probably try harder, but it was also Wanda and her touch always broke your resolve. Except, you were still hurting and not sure how much you believed Wanda even if she said she was yours, even if she said she wasn’t with Vision. You wanted to believe her, which might be why you weren’t exactly trying that hard to protest her touch, but then you felt her hand begin to slip into your panties and you knew you had to shut it down. 

“Wanda, I don’t want this,” your voice was quiet, but firm. And that’s all it took for Wanda to utterly freeze. You both were breathing hard for a moment, Wanda’s body still pinning you to the door as you both stood there. As much as Wanda wanted to prove her point, stake her claim on you, she would never do it against your will. She lost herself and suddenly her blood ran cold as she took in just how badly she lost control. The thought of you being with someone else, that made her blood boil, but you not wanting to be hers anymore? That made her terrified. 

You were the bright light in her life that she was missing for so long. You were someone Wanda was waiting for and she never even knew it. She had tried with Vision, had tried to make things work, but try as she might there was always something missing. That is, until you smiled at her, your eyes filled with nothing but innocent admiration for her. It took just one smile from you and suddenly Wanda’s whole world lit up. The thought of not having that anymore was unfathomable to her. You were the source of her happiness, the air she breathed, all Wanda knew since the moment she met you was, well, you. She couldn’t lose you, but she’d be damned if she ever actually hurt you. And fuck she came so close…

Wanda’s hands immediately moved, but they didn’t let go of you. This time they found their way back to your waist and her head moved back to look you in the eye again. Immediately, you knew you got through to her, but you also knew she was two seconds from breaking too. “I was not with Vision.” Wanda said this more firmly. No more anger in her voice, but still it was filled with utter conviction. “I wasn’t. I’m sorry that I… That I almost- but I wasn’t. I was not with Vision.”

“Okay,” you nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.” 

“I’m yours, I couldn’t be anyone else’s.” In that moment you really believed her. After all the anger had passed you could finally see it. Just as you couldn’t have fathomed Wanda doing something like that before you saw what you saw, she couldn’t fathom doing something like that to you either. “I. Am. Yours.” 

“I know,” You whispered, your hands finally relaxing on her shoulders. “I believe you.”

Wanda sighed for a moment, but you could tell she was still waiting for something. She still had a tight grip on you and she wasn’t going to be letting go any time soon, but you knew it was out of fear this time and not anger. There were words she wanted to hear, but she had already pushed too much, already made a huge mess of things. The way she almost took what you weren’t willing to give, she couldn’t overstep again or she knew it wouldn’t end well for the both of you, if there still was something between the both of you. 

“I’m yours too.” Wanda’s eyes searched yours as you spoke. She wanted to make sure this wasn’t said out of fear, especially considering how she was acting just moments ago, she wouldn’t be surprised if you were lying to protect yourself. But you weren’t, she could see it in your eyes. You looked sad, yes, but you weren’t scared when you said those words. Wanda didn’t need to read your mind to know that, not that she ever would. She might have lost control, but she would never violate you like that or in any other way, despite how close she had come. She still stopped when you said no, she still resisted the urge to read your thoughts when you were pushing back so hard. 

Wanda took a deep breath. “I can’t lose you,” she said, her voice quiet as she spoke. Her head pressed against yours, unable to look into your eyes as she tried to get out her one request. “Please, don’t go to Natasha’s tonight.”

“I won’t,” You whispered, your hand reaching up to cup her cheek. “I’ll stay, okay?”

Wanda didn’t say anything, you just felt her nod before her lips pressed gently against yours. This kiss was filled with emotion, filled with love and longing. You knew she was trying to show you she wouldn’t hurt you again in the kiss, but you also knew she was struggling to hold back her need to confirm you were really hers. Your hands moved and wove into her hair and you pulled her body closer to yours yet again. You were still trapped between Wanda and the door, but this time you didn’t mind. The hands that had already popped the buttons of your pants open were still at your waist, but as the kiss deepened you felt them begin to drift back to where they once were. Only this time, you were more than happy to let Wanda’s hands roam. 

“I’m so sorry I hurt you,” Wanda whispered against your lips. 

“It’s okay,” You said between kisses. “It’s okay.” Your grip on her hair was tighter as the kiss shared between you two grew more desperate. There was an unspoken understanding of what Wanda needed and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need it too. She needed to prove to you that you belonged to hers, and you needed her to touch you in a way you knew was only reserved for you.

Wanda’s hands slid straight into your panties and with the way she was kissing you and even the way her teeth marked your neck before, you were already wet for her. When Wanda’s fingers brushed against your clit to collect your wetness, she immediately felt that surge of pride and possession she got from touching you. She knew only she could have this part of you, only she could make you feel this way and touch you in this way. That fact alone had Wanda eager to take all you’d give. 

Wanda’s lips moved to your neck once again and when you felt her teeth drag along your skin you couldn’t stop the quiet whine that left your lips. You were driving Wanda crazy and she already had so much possessive energy she needed to pour into you, so she didn’t waste any time. Without much warning, you feel Wanda slide her fingers down between your folds before two of them dipedp into you. 

Your hands clench impossibly tighter into her hair and she didn’t hesitate to start a steady rhythm. It doesn’t take long for moans to fall from your lips and Wanda thinks they are music to her ears. She’s drunk off your reactions and off the way you clench around her fingers when she hits the spot she knows you love. All of this feels so much more intense after the night you two had, after Wanda almost lost you and after you thought Wanda wasn’t yours. Now you both know, there’s no one who could take you two away from each other. Wanda was yours and by some miracle you were still hers. Not Natasha’s, not anyone’s, only Wanda’s. 

The thought of that spurred Wanda’s movements more, pumping her fingers harder into you. Your hands left her hair to steady yourself on her shoulders, your nails digging into her skin. It was getting difficult for you to stand up straight, what with the way Wanda was pressing her hips into yours with every pump of her fingers and how your pants and panties had both somehow fallen down your legs enough to give Wanda more ease in fucking you.

If Wanda was drunk off your reactions, you were absolutely lost in her touch. The way her fingers felt inside you, the way her tongue felt on your skin. You didn’t even mind that in the morning your neck would be covered with visible marks, the sting of her teeth sinking into your neck too tantalizing to care about much else in the moment. You felt that tight pull in the pit of your stomach that indicated you were fast approaching the edge, but Wanda wasn’t quite done yet. 

“I want to feel you cum around my cock,” Wanda growled against your neck, her fingers pulling out without warning. 

You were already too lost in your own pleasure to really realize anything she was saying but the minute you lost contact your confusion overtook you. “Wanda what? What do you- Fuck!” Wanda didn’t waste any time, magicking her pants away and a strap between her legs. It took her two seconds to line it up with your entrance and replace her fingers with it. 

The back of your head hit the door the moment you felt her sheath it inside you. Eyes rolling to the back of your head as she ground herself into you to get herself as deep as possible. And then she hoisted up one of your legs, hooking it over her waist so her cock could go ever deeper inside you. The whole time, her iron grip and unwavering strength held you steady as she just pressed herself into you, enjoying the feeling of reaching deeper than she ever had before, deeper than you think you’ve ever taken anyone before. Wanda did that for a moment, enjoying the way your walls squeezed her cock. But then it wasn’t enough and with a growl she pulled out and started fucking you with abandon. You two had tried using a strap-on before, but this was definitely a new one. Wanda couldn’t help the pride she felt at your ease in taking all of her despite the size and the aggression in the way she was pumping herself inside you.

You didn’t think she’s ever fucked you like this. No, you knew this was new. She was always gentle, always making sure her touch was controlled and loving. This wasn’t the same, her touch was more possessive than it ever had been, all consuming. You had hit a nerve, you had threatened to not be hers, and now she needed to prove to you that you belonged to her, heart, mind, and especially body. 

The sounds of your hips hitting the door with each time Wanda pushed her own into yours sounded all throughout the room. With each moment Wanda pushed into you she let out a groan and you understood that her magic somehow allowed her to feel everything she was doing. Her nails dug into the thigh that was hooked to her waist and her other flew to your throat, pressing down just enough to drive you wild but not enough to bring fear. 

You, for the most part, were just trying to take Wanda’s cock in the best way you could, moaning her name, chanting fuck when she began to speed up. It was all overwhelming in the best way and you knew Wanda could feel your thighs shake as she drew you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, you feel good.” Wanda grunted in your ear as she continued to pump her cock into you. “So fucking good. Fuck fuck!” Wanda’s pace became erratic and the hand that was pressed to your throat flexed as she avoided temptation to press down harder. 

All you could do was moan as your hands grabbed at Wanda to keep yourself upright. You could tell by the force of Wanda’s hips pushing into yours that you’d have bruises, but you couldn’t begin to care with how good it felt to have Wanda’s cock buried in you. 

“I’m going to cum,” Wanda groaned. “Fuck, I want to fill you with my cum.” Wanda’s cock slammed into you and you could tell by her trembling body that she was incredibly close. “I’m going to cum inside you.” 

As Wanda kept fucking herself inside you came out of your haze just slightly to question what she meant. Curious if it was something said at the heat of the moment or something Wanda actually meant. “Wanda what do you mean- oh fuck.” And suddenly you got your answer. Wanda cried out and you felt hot spurts of Wanda’s cum fill you from the inside. As her faux cock still moved inside you, you felt her continue to fuck her cum deeper inside you and the sensation was too much for you to take, you yourself falling apart on her cock just seconds after. 

Wanda slumped forward, her forehead pressed to yours as you both tried to catch your breath. You felt her cum drip down your thigh when Wanda finally let your leg fall from her waist, but you weren’t recovered enough to move from the door and clean yourself up yet.

“You’re mine,” Wanda whispered before pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “Don’t ever forget that.”

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[1800-fight-me]

Hiiiiiiii. :)

First I love love love your fics.

You’re awesome.

Secondly you have a fic called duty and honor or something like that, where Aemond goes to war and his little wife is pregnant.

In it Aegon makes comments to her that she doesn’t like. I was wondering if you would write a continuation fic where now Aemond is back he over hears his brother and becomes all protective knowing this has been happening all the time he was away as well.

Just love protective pissed off In love Aemond and the way you write him, makes a girl swoon :) 🌹

Of Retribution & Desire

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature) (as always - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Violence, reader is a couple weeks postpartum, Aemond being protective

Word count: About 1.3k

Synopsis: Your husband defends your honor and protects you from the hateful words of his brother.

Author’s note: This ask is from the summer of last year lmao my bad,,, I've been going through it lately but hopefully this fic was worth the wait and still makes you swoon! Thanks for the love and support! Hopefully this is also the start of me being more involved in writing and the fandom again! This is part three of my first ever Aemond fic!!

Part one - Of Duty and Honor

Part two - Of War and Longing

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

“It certainly appears to be true that childbirth takes away a woman’s beauty,” Aegon practically sneered at you as he looked up and down your body. 

It was merely two weeks after you gave birth to Aemond’s daughter and your emotions were all over the place. 

His words filled you with such anger and self consciousness that your body could not hold in the emotions. 

Most embarrassingly, your eyes filled with tears. You were aghast at your reaction. Though Aegon often frustrated you, you certainly did not care enough about his opinion on your appearance for his words to cut so deep. 

Though if you were honest with yourself, you were already uncomfortable with your appearance today and wished you could have avoided today’s gathering. Though Aemond had assured you that you looked lovely, it was obvious to you, despite your lady’s maid’s best efforts, that you were exhausted. You felt uncomfortable in your own skin, your body went through massive changes and had not had the time and chance to adjust back. 

So there, in front of Aegon and the rest of your in-laws, you began to cry. 

Damn these uncontrollable emotions that came on so strongly after giving birth. 

You wanted to run and hide, and turned to do just that when Aemond walked in the room. 

His brow knitted in concern and his footsteps quickened as soon as he saw you. 

He was at your side and pulled you into his larger frame as he looked down at you. 

“What is wrong?” He asked, his voice tight. His gaze was on you before his eye darted around the room scanning it for danger or anything that could have caused your distraught state. 

You pursed your lips, afraid to speak for fear of more embarrassing tears flowing. 

“Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice dark with the promise of violence.

You really didn’t want to be the cause of another fight between him and his brother. 

“Aegon was being vile,” Heleana spoke up. 

You looked back at her in surprise that she would speak up, stand up for you. 

Aemond looked over your head at his brother and his eye narrowed. 

“What did you say to my wife,” he practically growled. 

Aegon visibly blanched and as quick as that your mood changed. You held back a smile. You were eager to see Aegon finally receive consequences for all the horrible things he’d said to you throughout your pregnancy when Aemond was off winning his war. 

“N-nothing,” he said and you scoffed and rolled your eyes. 

Aemond glanced down at you. He could’ve asked you but it was clear he wanted to make his brother sweat, make him admit to hurting you. 

He glared at Aegon who chose to glare back. 

Alicent let out a long suffering sigh and explained to Aemond what had been said. 

“That’s not the only thing he’s said too, right?” Heleana asked, her voice sweet and innocent. It amused you that she continued to push the issue, trying to get her husband in trouble. 

A horrible thought clanged through you that every vile comment he’d made to you, at least you had Aemond’s protection. Maybe it was worse for her. And maybe getting Aemond to punish Aegon for how he treated you was a safe way for her to get retribution as well. 

So you met her eyes, took a deep breath, set your jaw, and turned back to your husband. You told him every awful thing you could remember that Aegon said to you those eight months that Aemond was gone. 

You ignored Aegon, looking only at your husband as you spoke. 

As you finished, the tension in the room was thick, and it became so quiet, quiet enough that you could hear Aegon take a step back. 

Aemond took a deep calming breath, gently brushed you aside, then lunged towards his brother. 

“Aemond!” Alicent yelled in protest. 

“Aemond,” you murmured, a weak attempt to dissuade him, your heart not truly in it as you protested along with her. 

You took another step back, your body still weak from giving birth, not having any interest in getting involved in a physical fight, and watched as your husband punched his brother in the face to defend your honor. 

He looked like an avenging angel, you thought, as his white hair flew around, his upper lip curled into a snarl, and the look in his eye promised pain. 

You wondered at it, the smooth grace with which he attacked, it caused your heart to pound, and you knew it was not from fear. 

He really only got two good hits in before the King’s Guards intervened and pulled him away. But it was glorious to behold. 

His assault was so quick and vicious, Aegon didn’t even have a chance to fight back. 

Alicent was distraught, but Heleana sidled up beside you and gave you a small smile which you returned. 

The fact of the matter was, you were incredibly turned on. Uncomfortably turned on as you watched Aemond be violent to defend your honor. 

You were ready to drag him to your rooms and make another baby, but then your aching body reminded you that you were in no shape to do any such thing. 

Aemond yanked himself out of the grip of one of the guards and strode to you. 

He tilted your face up with a finger beneath your chin so your gaze would meet his own that was filled with fire. And smirked at the desire in your eyes. 

He pressed a brief but firm kiss to your wanting lips, you heard Aegon yelling something but ignored him completely. 

You slipped your hand into Aemond’s, his knuckles a little bloody, and tugged on him slightly, leading him out and away from the chaos. 

As you exited the room you gripped his tunic, and he backed you against the wall. 

He placed his hands against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in, and with the heat - the fire - between the two of you, there was nothing you could do but rise up on your tiptoes and press your lips to his. 

And these past weeks with your daughter, the nine months before that as you carried her, had been amazing, one of the most joyful experiences of your life. But, you were not only her mother, you were also Aemond’s wife. 

And he reminded you of that, reminded you that you are his wife and he desires you, as he kissed you back, kissed you hard, kissed you in a way that made your toes curl. 

This was not the sweet, short, gentle way he had kissed you since she was born, no. This was your dragon filling you with his fire again. 

His lips moved against yours, opening you up so his tongue could sweep against your own. 

His hand left the wall to grip your waist, and self consciousness at your changed body flared up, but was soon smothered by his desire as he pushed his body closer to yours, pushed you further against the wall, pressed against him completely. 

He groaned into your mouth and you nipped at his bottom lip in response. Finally, your body sang, like you were shaken awake by the heat. 

You whimpered against his lips, and his tongue danced with yours in response. 

Your body throbbed with desire… and then pain that reminded you that although your spirit felt ready to be joined with your husband in carnal desire again, your body certainly was not. 

You pulled back, your breathing hard, and he smiled softly as he beheld you. His hand grazed up from your waist, slowly and gently, until he cupped your cheek. 

“I can’t-“ you tried to explain, but he shook his head, understanding in his gaze.

“I know,” he murmured. 

He kissed you again, this time gentle and slow, filled with care and affection rather than heat and desire. 

He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours. 

“I love you,” you said sweetly. 

He chuckled and said, “I love you too, little wife. Let’s go hold our daughter before that look in your eyes convinces me to fill you with another.” 

You giggled and took his hand and allowed your prince, your defender, your husband to lead you to your daughter. 

[gffa]

I haven't read any STEVE/BUCKY FIC in the last five years or so (Endgame really burned me hard), BUT I can at least offer what I read up to that point! Most of my recs are from around when Captain America: The Winter Soldier first came out (some from before, so there's a few speculation fics) and then I was ready semi-regularly up through Inifinity War, so these may be a bit dated but also the fandom had some ABSOLUTE BANGER fics from that era! I mostly read from about 2014 to 2019 and I can't say how well many of these held up, but I know my tastes haven't changed that much, so there should hopefully be something for anyone interested here! Anyway, I think I'm finally Not As Mad As I Once Was enough to read fic again/celebrate the 10th anniversary of TWS, but also let's be clear. I will forever hold a grudge about what Marvel did with Steve and Bucky post-TWS, that was bullshit from start to finish. ESPECIALLY the finish, oh my god okay so I'm still Actually That Mad and-- NO, OKAY, HAVE SOME FIC RECS BEFORE I MELT DOWN AGAIN.

CAPTAIN AMERICA FIC RECS YOU'LL FIND HERE:

STEVE/BUCKY SHIP FICS

STEVE/BUCKY - PRE-THE WINTER SOLDIER SPECULATION

STEVE/BUCKY - POST-THE WINTER SOLDIER

STEVE/BUCKY - POST-INFINITY WAR

STEVE & BUCKY-CENTRIC FICS (WITH A LITTLE OF EVERYONE ELSE, TOO)

STEVE&BUCKY&CAST - POST-THE WINTER SOLDIER

CAPTAIN AMERICA: STEVE/BUCKY FIC RECS: ✦ Brooklyn, Brooklyn, Take Me In by victoria_p (musesfool), steve rogers/bucky barnes + natasha romanoff, reunion fic, 4.1k Bucky finds himself, and then he finds Steve. ✦ you got blood on your hands (and i know it’s mine) by nighimpossible, steve rogers/bucky barnes + natasha romanoff + brief mention of sam wilson/natasha romanoff, suicidal ideation, 2.9k Bucky refuses to see Steve after his deprogramming. ✦ take all you can carry by havisham, steve/bucky & cast, 2.4k    Bucky Barnes reassembles himself to a reasonable degree and makes romantic overtures to one Steve Rogers. It’s happened before and will happen again. ✦ I’d Know That Face Anywhere by Shay081793, steve/bucky, NSFW, divergent timeline, 2.7k The 107th never got captured. Instead, Bucky Barnes is in the audience when that clown "Captain America" performs to rally the troops, and holy shit, that clown is Steve Rogers. ✦ and we are finally home by springsoldier (ladydaredevil), sam & bucky + steve/bucky + implied sam/natasha + implied bucky/natasha, 7.3k The Winter Soldier shows up in Sam's kitchen, one morning. He deals with it. (Natasha helps. Steve would, if they let him.) ✦ Capture the Flag by Shiny_n_new, steve/bucky + sam, dark au, 9.4k wip Bucky has always been willing to do Captain America’s dirty work. This was no different. Sometimes, the day isn’t won by high ideals or bravery or compassion. Sometimes, it’s won by monsters. ✦ Memories are Made of This by eleveninches, steve/bucky & natasha & sam, 13.2k Nearly a year after turning himself into SHIELD and the Avengers, Bucky struggles to find himself in the 21st century. Unfortunately, no one told him about the aliens.

✦ but hey, you’re all right by beardsley, steve/bucky + other marvel characters, 5.5k Yes, this is the story where the Winter Soldier is a Russian mail-order bride. Everything goes about as well as you’d expect. ✦ I Left Myself in 1943 (Who the hell is Bucky?) by originalblue, steve/bucky + sam + natasha + other marvel characters, 21k You have a mission, but your mind is being split in two, and there's a man on the bridge, and you know him. You don't know why, but you know him. ✦ sam deserves better than these assholes by lazulisong, steve/bucky + sam + natasha + other marvel characters, 18k IM SORRY BUT SAM WILSON STARING IN BAFFLED WONDER AT STEVE AND BUCKY AND HOW WEIRD THEY ARE ABOUT EACH OTHER ✦ broken pieces (the rough edges remix) by legete, steve/bucky, 2.1k It’s wrong, he knows it’s wrong, but sometimes Bucky prefers the nightmares that actually happened. ✦ Talk Dirty to Me by PeetaPan, steve/bucky, NSFW, wall sex, 2.5k Steve spends months tracking Bucky down, and when he eventually find him, it’s in a nightclub in Europe. ✦ the body adrift by Febricant, steve/bucky + sam, mildy nsfw, 4.2k Steve has no drawings of Bucky from before. Those are all gone, destroyed in the war or by his own hand; it wouldn’t do for anyone to see how easily the details came from memory, how often Bucky was in his thoughts. ✦ Tony Stark and the Illegal Cross-Country Road Trip from Hell by ActionAddiction, steve/bucky + tony + sam + clint + natasha + fury, 21.8k wip A stir-crazy genius, a secretly sentimental assassin, two soldiers lost in time, and an undercover archer without an identity zigzag across the continental United States in Fury’s stolen van. Or: How Bucky Met Steve (Again)

✦ Didn’t know I was lonely till I saw your face by gunboots, steve/bucky + bucky/natasha + sam + bruce + tony + xavier, 2.9k There are words on paper, actors in movies, and a grand story that fills a whole corner of a museum defined by history. There are words, there are pictures, there are movies, but they’re limited, fragmented. They can’t do justice to the sniper that Captain America trusted, the man that grew into a boy in the streets of Brooklyn with his best friend at his side. The man that could be James Buchanan Barnes leaves a legacy that is barely defined. The man that Steve Rogers says he is. ✦ the inaccuracy of historical wartime dramas by Mici (noharlembeat), steve/bucky + sam + natasha, 3k (or: Steve has feelings, and shouldn’t ever watch television) ✦ The Shape I’m In by radialarch, steve/bucky, 2.6k [AU where Bucky never fell.] They win the war. Steve and Bucky come home and deal with their feelings. ✦ дорогой by smilebackwards, steve/bucky + other marvel characters, canon divergence, 1.8k “Are you goddamn kidding me?” Fury asks when Steve shows up to the rendezvous point in Fredericksberg with the Winter Soldier. ✦ have you ever thought just maybe by Desdemon, steve/bucky + tony/pepper + other marvel characters, humor, 4.4k “JARVIS,” Tony called thoughtfully. “Yes, sir?” “Those young people are in love,” he said. ✦ Use Your Damn Words by wilddragonflying, steve/bucky, NSFW, omegaverse, 4.2k There’s murmuring, indistinct voices, all around him; all he catches, at first, are the occasional words. “—mated.” “—no difference—“ “—make him forget—“ That’s when Bucky starts fighting. ✦ It’s an Adequate Life, Bucky Barnes by what_alchemy, steve/bucky, it’s a wonderful life fusion, 10.2k This is a world without Bucky Barnes.

✦ and it starts just where the light exists by caughtinanocean, steve/bucky, mildly nsfw, 3.4k In which Bucky can’t admit the things he needs, but Steve knows them anyway, and Steve and Bucky are definitely a couple, even if they don’t know it. ✦ tango till they’re sore by sciencemyfiction, steve/bucky, nsfw, 4k Four shorts about Steve and Bucky, and romance, and sex, and dominance, and grief, and forgiveness. ✦ Permission by derekstilinski, steve/bucky + other marvel characters, 2.5k After Bucky’s captured by SHIELD, they put him in a holding cell, and strip him of everything but his clothes. He’s dirty, damaged, and Steve can’t just watch him like that, protocol or not. ✦ Milkshakes & Penguin Suits by TheLocket, steve/bucky, fluff, 2.9k At the latest Stark party, Steve and Bucky share a milkshake — and spend the evening together. ✦ Practical Mathematics by Grey_Bard, steve/bucky + steve/peggy + steve/peggy/bucky + tony, 1.7k After a hard shift saving the world, Stark - in his infinite wisdom - has decided to bond with Steve by talking about his favorite subject. Well, third favorite, after building things and smart-mouthing people. Steve is pretty sure none of his experiences really count. Tony is starting to wonder what Steve’s definition of “is” is. ✦ how happy must be angels thus employed by lanyon , steve/bucky + clint/coulson, mildly nsfw, humor, 2k It begins entirely accidentally. Clint walks in on Bucky and Steve in a compromising position and then Bucky escalates by tapping a private line between Clint and Phil. Also known as The One With The Cock-Blocking Competition (and it’s all fun and games until Phil and Steve find out.) ✦ Fate by grumpyowls, steve/bucky + peggy, 2.1k Bucky finds a drawing and it turns out to mean something more than he thought.

✦ One More Time by DevBasaa, steve/bucky, pre-serum, ~1k Steve’s clueless and Bucky’s not yet ready to acknowledge these feelings. But that doesn’t stop him from having them. Set before Bucky ships out, but after Steve receives his A1. ✦ Bucky and Bear by fromgoodbones, steve/bucky, fluffy, ~1k Steve gets Bucky a cat. ✦ Size Isn’t A Problem by bondboy68, steve/bucky, NSFW, 1.8k It’s the first time Bucky has seen Steve naked in some seventy-odd years, and things have definitely changed.

STEVE/BUCKY - PRE-THE WINTER SOLDIER SPECULATION:

✦ devil’s gonna follow me (wherever I go) by Lyaka, steve/bucky & natasha & cast, the winter soldier speculation, 63k The man who used to be Bucky Barnes lined up his shot. His finger twitched, only once, very precisely. Help me, the bullet sang. Ninety-eight floors below him, the bullet glanced off a vibranium shield with a musical ping. And Steve Rogers looked up. ✦ And it felt like a kiss by orphan_account, steve /bucky & natasha & sam, the winter soldier spoilers, ~1k We can’t stop feeling Winter Soldier feelings. And neither can Bucky or Steve. ✦ testament by paxlux, steve/bucky + other marvel characters, the winter soldier speculation fic, 10.6k His memory runs backwards in crooked bright flashes, hard as the noise flare of an assault rifle. ✦ persistence of memory by hollimichele, steve/bucky/natasha, NSFW, the winter soldier speculation, 11.5k It’s a nondescript sort of a Wednesday morning when the Winter Soldier walks into SHIELD headquarters, bold as brass, and announces his intention to surrender. ✦ To Be Modified As Necessary by ignipes, steve/bucky & bucky/natasha & clint/natasha & thor/jane & avengers, the winter soldier speculation, 5.9k They only need ten rules to ensure (relatively) peaceful cohabitation. ✦ lights at two dollars a strand by legete, steve/bucky + tony, the winter soldier speculation, 1.4k They don’t mean to decorate for Christmas. It just sorta…happens.

STEVE/BUCKY - POST-THE WINTER SOLDIER: ✦ Out of the Dead Land by orphan_account, steve/bucky + sam + natasha + nick fury + other marvel characters, nsfw in one scene at the end, 62.7k Someone is building machines that look and act like people. Meanwhile, the Winter Soldier tries to be Bucky Barnes. ✦ this is a back alley by saintsideways, steve/bucky & natasha & sam, the winter soldier spoilers, 14.2k Here is the only thing you know: the body remembers. ✦ your blue-eyed boys by Feather (lalaietha), steve/bucky & cast, 123.3k Steve has no plan. Not because he hadn't tried to make one. He'd tried to make lots of plans. Plan, adapt, plan again, tried to think of every contingency. [post-Winter Soldier recovery fic] ✦ The man on the bridge by boopboop, steve/bucky & tony/pepper & clint/natasha & cast, 107.5k Steve Rogers turning up at Tony's door with an amnesiac assassin - who may or may not have some of Tony's personally designed hardware attached where his arm should be - well that's just far too interesting to turn away, even if Tony is trying to avoid all things S.H.I.E.L.D these days. ✦ Soft Spot for the Hell Raisin’ Boy by ifeelbetter, sam & bucky + steve/bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, (some) humor, 1.9k The Winter Soldier takes an interest in Sam Wilson. Bucky Barnes wants to tell him how to be Steve Rogers’s best friend. ✦ Reconstruction Site by EmilianaDarling, steve/bucky + sam, the winter soldier spoilers, 7.6k He is the Winter Soldier. He is James Buchanan Barnes. He’s not one and he’s not the other, and he’s not sure if that makes him anything worth saving. In which the Winter Soldier leads Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson on a wild goose chase through Eastern Europe so that he can learn more about the man who actually thinks he can be saved.

✦ hold me tight by hollimichele, bucky/steve + sam + natasha, nsfw, the winter soldier spoilers, 11.1k In the old days, before the war, Steve got cold at night. That was all it was, at first. ✦ A Bullet in the Barrel (of your best guy’s gun) by lc2l, steve/bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, canon divergence (sort of), violence, 6k You return to the concrete hole in the ground where the mission is not dead and not in the sewers and is looking at you. “Bucky,” says Rogers, Steve (deceased). ✦ Sleeperhold by Argyle, steve/bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, 3.2k He’s hardwired to disappear. ✦ lost my fear of falling by ftmsteverogers, steve/bucky + natasha + sam, 1.8k “It’s been two weeks,” Natasha says, pressing a coffee cup into Steve’s hand. “How long are we going to do this?” Steve watches the steam curl into question marks above his cup. “I know he’s still in there,” he says, and that’s that. ✦ but the fires are coming by stitchingatthecircuitboard, steve/bucky + bucky & natasha, the winter soldier spoilers, 4k He does not remember, except that is better than being made to forget, again, and again, and again. He does not go to Brooklyn. ✦ we did not make ourselves by M_Leigh, steve/bucky + sam + natasha + tony, the winter soldier spoilers, 25.1k It is like steel, the determination inside of you that tells you you will achieve this, that you will find him. Nothing will stop you. You are two sides of the same coin, you and he: he cannot escape you forever. Bucky runs. Steve follows. ✦ measured my life in cooking lessons by FoxGlade, steve/bucky + clint + avengers, fluff, the winter soldier spoilers, 4k He knocks on Clint’s door, sharp and loud, and half a minute later Clint is standing there in boxers and a baggy Army Rangers shirt. “Morning,” Steve says shortly, before Clint can say anything. “You up to teaching me how to make those French toasts? I think I need to talk.” Clint yawns and stretches. Something in his back makes a loud cracking sound and Steve winces. “Yeah, I’m up,” he mumbles, then squints. “This is going to be a long cooking lesson, isn’t it?” “I found Bucky sitting outside the tower on the street when I went out for a jog and he remembered me but I’m pretty sure that’s all he remembers.” Clint just waves a hand and heads for the kitchen, Steve shuffling in his wake.

✦ and we are finally home by lastembers, sam & bucky + steve/bucky + sam/natasha, 7.3k The Winter Soldier shows up in Sam’s kitchen, one morning. He deals with it. (Natasha helps. Steve would, if they let him.) ✦ Circling Back by chaya, steve/bucky + sam + natasha + tony, the winter soldier spoilers, 59.6k Steve looks for Bucky, Bucky finds Steve, Steve tries desperately to put Bucky back together. Bucky tries desperately to let him. ✦ your favorite ghost by augustbird, steve/bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, 21k It’s harder than Steve ever expected to bring Bucky home. ✦ Green-Eyed Monster by storiesfortravellers, steve/bucky + steve & tony + steve & sam + bucky & natasha, humor, 1.9k The Winter Soldier has joined the team and is slowly recovering, but he goes into a jealous rage whenever he sees that Steve is close friends with Tony, Sam, or Natasha. Past Steve/Bucky. ✦ Castor and Pollux by StringTheori, howard stark & steve + steve/bucky, mild the winter soldier spoilers, 2.9k A fic where Howard is emotionally constipated, a terrible human being, catches someone doing something, and brushes off friendships because he can. ✦ Find My Way by Brenda, steve/bucky + oc pov, the winter soldier spoilers, 4.6k Well, someone had to write the post-Winter Soldier fic where Bucky gets a decent meal and some homemade apple pie, right?

✦ Parallel Constructions by freshbakedlady, steve/bucky + sam + natasha, the winter soldier spoilers, 13.6k In the absence of orders, the man wearing the face of Bucky Barnes must figure out who he will be. The answer, mostly, is “somebody Steve Rogers can love.” Nothing so easy should ever take this much work. ✦ five people bucky barnes never was. by rhllors, steve/bucky + bucky/natasha, the winter soldier spoilers, 1.9k Five lives that never came to pass. ✦ no heart to recall by KiaraSayre, steve/bucky & sam & natasha & tony, the winter soldier spoilers, 15.3k He’s been in Steve Rogers’s company for less than twenty-four hours and he’s already losing sight of his mission. ✦ Bring Us Back a Souvenir by newredshoes, steve/bucky & sam & bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, 1.5k Even with all his hair hacked off, he doesn’t look like a Bucky, Sam thinks. Maybe as some sort of stupid joke, like naming your most vicious dog Sweetpea. Steve’s told him the stories, and he’s seen the old newsreels; he knows what this Barnes guy used to be like. But it’s not like knowing what to look for is going to magically make some spark rise to the top. This isn’t an excavation. ✦ i will be your ground by misprinting, steve/bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, 4.7k A character study. The subject: Bucky’s hair. (Also, a Bucky comes in from the cold fic.) ✦ Debts by vestigialwords, steve/bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, ~1k Steve’s life is a collection of debts, and the balance does not work out in his favor. ✦ Five times Steve kissed Bucky by paragon, steve/bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, 16.5k (+ once, finally, it was the other way around) ✦ Run Until the Road Runs Out by ignipes, steve/bucky + sam & bucky + natasha, the winter soldier spoilers, 5.2k Sam’s along for this ride because he’s not about to let Steve Rogers go it alone, but Steve’s not the only one who needs a friend.

✦ And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence, are more to me by ifeelbetter, steve/bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, 4.4k The Captain woke quickly and tested the chain before he saw the Soldier. All the tension in his body evaporated once he met the Soldier’s eyes and he slumped downward, back up against the wall. “Oh, thank god,” he said. He repeated it twice, quiet. Like a secret. ✦ Your Mind Rings by Amberly, steve/bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, 1.2k You aren’t Bucky. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore, either, but you’re not Bucky ✦ tabula rasa by dance_at_bougival, steve/bucky + natasha + sam, the winter soldier spoilers, 10.3k Bucky Barnes screamed himself hoarse on that table and screamed falling off that train. He screamed when they programmed him and screamed and screamed until he isn’t Bucky Barnes anymore, not really. He is still screaming, a trapped rat running around a labyrinthine machine, clawing at the doors and running into dead ends. He has been screaming for seventy years. ✦ The Age’s Most Uncertain Hour by dewinter, steve/bucky + peggy, the winter soldier spoilers, 1.8k Five times the Winter Soldier remembered (and then forgot). ✦ The Steven G. Rogers Guide to What You Missed the Last Few Years by what_alchemy, steve/bucky, humor, 5.1k Steve’s got the hang of this 21st century thing. ✦ All the First Times by Vera (Vera_DragonMuse), steve/bucky + other marvel characters, the winter soldier spoilers, 9.6k Bucky starts over and finds new ways to survive. ✦ Me Against Your Memory (It’s a Two-Step Recovery Process) by thisiswhatthewatergaveme, steve/bucky + steve & natasha + steve & sam + natasha & sam, the winter soldier spoilers, 56.5k wip The Soldier needs answers. It’s the only mission he has left. And the mission is all he has.

✦ Make It Up as We Go Along by hannahrhen, steve/bucky + natasha + sam, mildly nsfw, the winter soldier spoilers, 1.6k Steve’s a terrible liar when he opens his mouth. ✦ What’s in a name by Ark, steve/bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, 3.4k Steve doesn’t resist. He is dipped back: a dance. “Bucky,” says Steve. The severely serene surface does not stir. “You will answer the questions I ask.” The Soldier’s voice is Bucky’s but the accent is all wrong. His face is Bucky’s, perfect, and all wrong. ✦ Drawn From Life by littlerhymes, steve/bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, 2.5k “I remember,” Bucky says, but that’s not entirely true. Set after The Winter Soldier.

STEVE/BUCKY - POST-INFINITY WAR: ✦ Coming Back by Emotionallyunstabl, entire cast (some steve/bucky), infinity war spoilers, 1.9k    Fixing Avengers: Infinity War. ✦ How ya been, Buck? by dvorahbee, steve/bucky, NSFW, infinity war spoilers, 2.3k    A fix-it for Bucky and Steve’s reunion because I wasn’t too happy with that half-assed reunion we had. ✦ hold some dirt with those hands by magdaliny, steve/bucky & cast, infinity war spoilers, 3k    It had sent him to his knees. ✦ To Never Have Loved At All by hitlikehammers, steve/bucky & cast, infinity war spoilers, 2.8k    Steve will say they had work to do, and a universe to put to rights. They had people to find and hearts to unbreak. They had a mission. There was no time for any of them to mourn. Steve, as it turns out, says a lot of things that are mostly bullshit.

CAPTAIN AMERICA: STEVE&BUCKY GEN FIC RECS: ✦ This, You Protect by owlet, steve & bucky & everyone else, humor, 64.3k The mission resets abruptly, from objective: kill to objective: protect ✦ By Choice or By Habit by Sholio, steve & bucky & natasha & clint & tony, 6.4k He is useful. He holds onto that. He is useful and a useful tool will not be thrown away. (For illumynare’s request: How about something with Bucky realizing the Avengers actually think of him as a person? And off I went to the utterly shameless h/c place.) ✦ 5 (+1) Times Bucky Was Already a Supersoldier by chaya, steve & bucky, 1k Erskine made it plain for Steve - the serum makes you stronger, faster, harder to kill, and it amplifies your existing qualities. Barnes, though, didn’t get any such heads up. ✦ Thaw by danveresque, steve & bucky & sam & natasha, 7.5k The Winter Soldier tries to find Bucky Barnes. ✦ Brothers In Arms by copperbadge, steve & bucky & sam & sam & tony & pepper & clint + background tony/pepper, 11.4k Bucky Barnes gets a tune-up, a new pet, and a home. ✦ You Know How I Feel, aka, The Adventures of Bucky and Muffy the Dinosaur by ifeelbetter, bucky & avengers, fluff, 4.5k Bucky saved a tiny dinosaur and took her home to Avengers Tower and on the way remembered how to laugh and sleep in soft beds. ✦ Strawberries in Wintertime by Sholio, steve & bucky & sam & natasha & sharon, 3.2k Or, how Sam’s apartment turns into a hangout for superheroes, spies, and rogue assassins. ✦ This Lonely Hour Before Daybreak by cheesethesecond, steve & bucky + sam + natasha, 2.9k Steve knew there would be good days and bad days. That’s how this sort of thing worked. Except sometimes, the bad days go like this.

✦ Almond, Clavicle, Orchid by kvikindi, steve & bucky & sam & natasha, 4.5k You say, “I don’t know what I am.” “It’s okay not to know,” Steve tells you. His face is very careful. But you know. You know that it’s not okay. ✦ you can’t fly on dinosaurs, bucky by scorpionbythesea, steve & bucky & clint, humor, 1.2k Based off the tumblr post by embracingthemadness and the tag that followed: steve and bucky making up random stories from their past and convincing the other avengers that it actually happened (◡‿◡✿) #there’s no way you guys fought nazi dinosaurs ✦ Fly on the Wings of Love by Omnicat, steve & bucky & sam & natasha & tony & clint + some background pairings, domesticity, 13.2k The Wings: Bucky just wants to show his appreciation for everything Sam has done for Steve. Of course, Tony Stark’s middle name is ‘needlessly difficult’. The Love: Bucky tries to set Natasha up with Sam. He’s a bit late for that party, but he managed to find Steve’s shield and replace Sam’s wings: he’ll come up with something for her. ✦ Swap by sparkles_stars, steve & bucky + avengers, body swap, 1.2k Steve and Bucky switch bodies. Nothing of substance happens from that moment on. ✦ Escape by Sholio, steve & bucky, 2.4k Missing scene for Captain America: The First Avenger – freeing the prisoners was just the start of getting away. ✦ think of it as personality dialysis by KiaraSayre, bucky & darcy, humor, 1.4k “I strangled someone with a shoelace once,” Barnes says. “Does that count as expressing myself through clothes?” “Uh, no.”

✦ Name, Rank, and Serial Number by forthegreatergood, steve & bucky + other marvel characters, 1.5k A Nazi peeling off his skin and declaring himself beyond human doesn’t even get a rise out of him anymore, but Bucky doesn’t think he could stand it if Steve ripped off his face, too. ✦ The Dawn of That Last Great Day by ignipes, steve & bucky + avengers + minor pairing references, the winter soldier speculation fic, 13.8k The Winter Soldier has a mission: kill Captain America. ✦ All The Leaves Are Brown (And the sky is gray) by AvocadoLove, bucky & tony + some tony/pepper + very mildly implied steve/bucky, 17.4k The Winter Soldier's mission is nearly complete. Howard and Maria Stark are dead, leaving him to dispatch their four-year-old child. One quick twist of the neck is all it will take, but the Soldier finds he cannot do it. So instead of killing Tony Stark, the Winter Soldier takes him away to raise as his own.

CAPTAIN AMERICA: STEVE&BUCKY&CAST - POST-THE WINTER SOLDIER: ✦ so this is how it is by sciencemyfiction, steve & bucky & sam, the winter soldier spoilers, ptsd, 29.1k Following the events of the Winter Soldier film, Steve and Sam finally find Bucky, and work to get back to a good place. ✦ On Your Left by TravelingRoses, steve & bucky & natasha & sam & tony thor & fury peggy, the winter soldier spoilers, 12.9k Five times someone told Steve to give up looking for Bucky and two times someone didn’t. Alternately, five times someone smacked Steve on the head and said “Don’t do the thing” and he continued doing the thing and two times he listened so he could keep doing the thing. ✦ and i have fought (in flesh and blood) by ChristinasInferno, steve & bucky, the winter soldier spoilers, 1.1k “He is Bucky Barnes and his best friend is Steve Rogers, and Steve Rogers is Captain America.” Bucky, post-Winter Soldier. ✦ The Care and Feeding of Traumatized Ex-Assassins by Sholio, steve & bucky + natasha + sam, the winter soldier spoilers, 6.6k Steve starts to notice someone’s been in his apartment while he’s not there. Set after Winter Soldier; spoilers. ✦ Glass of Milk by Lauralot, bucky & avengers, the winter soldier spoilers, 6.6k In which in the Winter Soldier is in the care of the Avengers. He has yet to regain his memories, but he has developed a fondness for dairy products.

[fazedlight]

What's Wrong with 5B?

(aka: how It’s a Super Life ruined everything)

The premiere of season 5 was simple. Kara fucked up, felt deeply sorry for it, and revealed her secret to Lena (driven solely by her guilt) after far too long of gaslighting her. Unfortunately, it was a bit too late, Lena was already (rightfully) pissed and about to exact a(n outsized) revenge about it. Easy peasy.

We see Kara struggle with it a little. She gives Lena the superwatch, looking super guilty the whole time. She brings Lena international treats, talks to Alex about how she’s nervous about interacting with Lena. But she seems to have underestimated the damage she’s caused - and Lena is going through a major disillusionment. 

Both of which are mostly in character from my perspective. But with the caveat that, I knew the basic summary of the Rift before I watched the show. So those were moments the characters were already building to in my head. (I know some people think that Kara’s reaction in season 3 was out of character, or that Lena’s reaction in 5A was out of character, and those are valid opinions that are worth exploring! If I watched the show unfold live, maybe I’d be in that camp too.)

We then see Lena’s betrayal and Kara scrambling to pull Lena back from the edge into an anti-villain arc. The Crisis happens, Kara visits Lena, and Lena calls Kara out - “What did you think would happen when you came here? That you'd tell me everything in a fit of selflessness, even if it meant that I knew how you betrayed me, and then I'd just keel over and forgive you?” Kara still knows she did something wrong, and vows to never do it again.

Aaaaand then It’s A Super Life (beloved/beloathed) happens.

I really liked the episode the first time I saw it. I was a supercorp shipper who hadn’t read a single fic. And on its face, I mean, they dedicated the entire 100th episode to the relationship between Kara and Lena and trying to repair it. It failed, sure, but they'd make up eventually (again, I was spoiled).

But that episode was really about absolving Kara. It was a bizarre conclusion. Kara no longer had fault, because any reality they tried out would’ve failed. … which makes no damn sense. Even if no reality could work (I’m skeptical), Kara didn’t know that at the time she made her decisions. She still has fault for the harm she knew she was causing (even if it happened to work out better than the alternatives she didn’t know about).

I think this is a narrative shift. This isn’t just about the in-universe “Kara believes she’s absolved”. This is a writer's ploy to change the narrative and make the audience think that Kara didn’t have fault. Writing this as a character flaw might’ve worked, maybe, if they had Kara reexamine her assumptions later. But as a narrative? … the shift fell completely flat.

The rift was canceled at this point. Suddenly it was no longer the story of two people’s flaws interplaying in the worst possible way. Suddenly it was: Kara is right, Lena is wrong, let us never speak of it again.

It makes everything that comes after really grating. The end of 5x19 (where Kara goes “maybe I’m ready to forgive you now” and shakes Lena’s hand) feels completely empty, because there’s no acknowledgement from Kara that she fucked up - a fact she fully understood at the beginning and middle of the season! It bleeds into season 6, where we never see Lena hash things out with the superfriends or with Kara post-return. It makes the finale (Lena’s “You made me a better person”) fall flat. At this point multiple people in the fandom have pointed out that it’s Melissa’s acting that is Kara’s saving grace (though even that has limitations, as many of us felt with Sadie). But Kara as a character really suffers - and with it, her relationship with Lena, and Lena's arc - because the writers did not make a convincing argument for their shift. 

The hero’s always right, I guess? The main character can’t have major flaws? (I hope someday we learned what instructions they were getting in the writing room 😂)

For my own sanity, I have a whole slew of conversations(/arguments) in my head that I place into season 6 to fix some of this (as well as making Mxy a liar who was trying to make his friend feel better, rather than those other timelines being real). But while they’re canon-compliant… they aren’t canon. What we needed was something on screen to make the relationship shine again, to have Kara revisit why her rationale absolving her in the 100th episode didn’t follow at all, and have Lena work through her issues with Kara and the rest of the superfriends. But we didn’t get that.

Which means everything post-100th will always feel wrong to me.

[dem-obscure-imagines]

Nice to Meet You

Jaime Reyes x Reader

Fandom: DCEU

Summary: You and Jaime have been kicking ass together for years, but you’ve never seen his face before. Hell, you don’t even know his name. That changes one night when he shows up on your doorstep, injured.

Notes: So I had a dream last night that I was in a Miraculous Ladybug situation with Jaime, so have this fic hahaha. Also I have never seen Miraculous so…idek where it came from.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries

Word Count: 1.3k

Reader is: Female, Apollo’s champion

Being a superhero and a normal person with a normal-ish life was not for the faint of heart. You spent your days working in the local history museum, your afternoons getting whatever sleep you could, and your nights sitting by the police scanner, waiting for news of some rogue giant robot or guy with a freeze gun. As it was, you were in no position to expose your identity. Not even to your partner.

Your mission partner, that was, the Blue Beetle.

You’d been fighting crime with him for the past three years, a few times every week. It had started as an accident. He’d show up to the same crime scenes you did, helping evacuate people out of burning buildings, stopping rampaging mutants from the questionable labs popping up around town, redirecting a plane with a broken propeller. It was admirable. He was admirable.

You’d never seen his face. You didn’t even know his first name. You knew his power came from the scarab in his back, an alien symbiote that was bonded to his body. It talked to him sometimes, like a computer, analyzing things. It also served as body armor and a built in artillery of weapons.

The scarab saved his ass a lot, basically. And yours, too. You couldn’t count the amount of times he’d saved you from blows you’d never seen coming.

Which is why you were so surprised to hear a knock on your door, Beetle’s voice on the other side of it sounding…worried.

“Suncatcher? Are you home? I…I…I need some help!”

You were surprised to hear it at all, actually. You didn’t think he knew where you lived.

Also, you weren’t in costume, just in a cropped tee and some sweats, hair pulled back and face bare. Not that your mask covered a lot of your face, but it gave you anonymity. Or at least, you thought it did.

You pushed the thoughts aside when you heard him knock again, preparing for the very real possibility that someone had cloned his voice and was using your public-ish friendship against you.

You lit your fist with power and crept towards the door of your townhouse, peering through the peephole to find…nothing. You pulled the door open slowly and looked around. Sitting on the cement outside your door was a guy with luscious black curls, and, more importantly, a giant gaping wound on his stomach.

“S-Suncatcher?” He asked, meeting your eyes, tears brimming in his own.

“Oh my God.” You dropped to your knees, looking over him. “What happened?”

“Y-you’re…?”

“It’s me. It’s me. I’m here.”

“I didn’t know where else to go…” He confessed.

“It’s okay, hey, can you stand? Where’s Khaji?”

“Offline.” He groaned as you helped him off the ground. It was clear he’d lost a lot of blood. You closed the door behind the two of you and locked it, lowering him onto the couch.

“How long have you been out there?” You asked, assessing the injury.

“Not long.” He assured you, moving to support the wound.

You took a breath, grounding yourself before tapping deeper into your powers, sunlight lit in your palms, creeping up your arms. “Alright Blue, I need to get in there.”

“Jaime. My name is Jaime.” He told you, pain etched across his handsome features. “Nice to finally meet you, sunshine. Wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” You replied, too preoccupied to offer your name in return. You gently lifted the fabric from his battered torso, revealing the wound. It was pretty bad, but it wouldn’t be for long. Using the power from your patron, you extended your hand, your glowing sunlight working to close the wound with warmth and precision.

Jaime watched, his eyes wide. He stared at you as you set to work. It tingled, the spot in his abdomen, where he’d been stabbed repeatedly by a guy with a glowing green sword. But it didn’t hurt anymore. And less than a minute later, it wasn’t there at all, completely smoothed over without so much as a scar.

You turned your attention to his face, where there was a cut across his nose, a purpled bruise on his chin.

If Khaji was online, he was sure she’d tell him about his increased heartrate due to your proximity, that focused look in your eye as you soothed his pain away. But she wasn’t. That was a problem he’d have to solve later.

The glow in your palms dimmed and you met his eyes, looking relieved. “Any other injuries I should know about?”

“Nah, I think that about covers it.” He replied, still staring at you. Maybe he’d never stop. “How did you…?”

“My patron, Apollo. The god of…well, lots of stuff, but healing is one of them. I’ll leave him an offering later.” You explained. “He’s pretty chill, as far as deities go. Met him when I got my job at the museum and, well, the rest is history.”

“That’s really cool.” He said, sitting up without trouble. “I didn’t know that.”

“I guess it never came up.” You shrugged. “My name is (Y/N), by the way. Would have introduced myself earlier if I wasn’t so busy trying to prevent you from bleeding out in my apartment.”

“Thanks for that, by the way.”

You smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

He took in your face, seeing most of it for the first time. He smiled, eyes soft and sparkling, voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re really pretty, (Y/N).”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Jaime.” You looked him over, taking him in for the first time. Warm brown eyes, a handsome face, fluffy black curls, toned build. “Can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this under that suit of yours.”

He laughed, sheepish. “We should have done this sooner.”

“Way sooner.” You agreed. “Not the fatal wound part, of course, but…we could have gotten coffee or something.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” He murmured, leaning closer. “If I’m moving too fast, stop me.”

“You’re not.” You replied, a hand cupping his face as you pressed your lips to his. He melted at the contact, arm settling around your waist and tugging you closer to him. “I’ve been waiting to do this for…so long.”

He rested his forehead against yours. “That makes two of us.”

***

At the museum, a few weeks later, you sat at the guide desk in the center of the lobby, typing away on your laptop, researching an ancient relic Apollo was interested in, a necklace he’d gifted to the Oracle of Delphi that had gotten into the wrong hands.

Someone cleared their throat. You looked up to find Jaime there, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Is this where I find the pretty tour guide? If she’s not too busy, that is.”

“Jaime!” You leapt to your feet, walking around the edge of the desk and straight into his arms.

“Hey, sunshine. Thought I’d come brighten up your day.”

“My day has been brightened.” You assured him, pressing a long kiss to his soft lips.

“Khaji, not now.” He murmured, cheeks burning red.

“Hi, Khaji.” You whispered.

He chuckled. “She says hi.”

“This must be Jaime. I’m (Y/N)’s coworker, Jess.” Your favorite coworker introduced. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too. Is it alright if I steal her for a bit? I’m excited to finally see the place.”

“Oh, of course. You two have fun. I’ll put those in water for you.” Jess said, taking the flowers with a careful hand and a knowing smile.

Jaime took your hand and you led him proudly through your workplace. You loved getting to know the real him, without a mask in the way. Finally, your two lives had combined into one and you couldn’t be happier.

[phantomrose96]

I feel like it takes A Lot to collectively traumatize a fandom as fond of vivisection as the Danny Phantom fandom, but damn that'd do it. Fantastic fic!!!

Also I *love* the detail of the news report in the background of the breakfast scene. At first I was like "oh cool they're talking about PTSD, which he definitely seems to be developing" then I read it again and I was like "oh *fuck* they're talking *about Danny*" which is *chef's kiss* superb

(Prometheus)

Achievement unlocked! Danny gets to be an easter egg in his own story!!

I'm a fan of the trope (I guess it's a trope) of the secret-identity character who just has to listen powerlessly while the talking heads on the tv muse about what's happened to them. Doesn't matter if the broadcast is sympathetic or damning. Either way it hits for me.

When I was first piecing that scene together, I was intending to have Danny, Jack, and Jazz pay attention to the broadcast when it became obvious the reporters were talking about Phantom. It would be the vehicle to communicate to the audience that Phantom is slipping and Danny's definitely grappling with PTSD at this point.

But when I thought about it more, I wasn't actually in love with it as the delivery vehicle. Yeah I like the trope but it felt a little too much of just "I'm saying story details at the reader and using the newscaster as a mouth for that." It felt contrived in a way I don't like.

And what would everyone's reaction be? There wasn't a meaningful place to bring it. Like sure maybe Jack could scoff and say something like "Ghosts don't have complex feelings" or something else dismissive, but that wasn't constructive to the narrative I was building. What Jack thinks about Phantom isn't important to this kind of story. I could have Jazz maybe try to talk to Danny, but there's no way to do that with Jack in the room, and Jazz wouldn't need the newscasters for this anyway. It's her own baby brother, she'd have seen this before any tv host. And there's nothing important for Danny to gain from this. Other than maybe knowing his slipping is visible, but he knows.

So I came to a much better conclusion: ignore the news cast.

It does not need to be a contrived narrative device. It does not need to steer the scene. It does not need to misdirect me into unimportant conversations.

They ignore it. And THAT is so much more thematically potent to what is happening. Danny fighting through his denial. Danny shutting his friends out. The elephant in the room is ON THE TV and no one is even allowed to address it.

Tv host saying "Phantom has PTSD" isn't the vehicle I need for this "communicate to the reader Danny has PTSD" scene. THAT is much better done with Jack, and with his invention, and with the chekov's gun he's been dismantling and remantling the whole fic. It's done with Jack pointing a weapon at Danny - a thing which has occurred a THOUSAND times before - but it's different NOW, because of the trauma Danny is not coping with.

To be cliche, it's the show-don't-tell answer here. (And to be fair, there are PLENTY of places where "tell" is an entirely acceptable route and is often a necessary part of maintaining narrative velocity.) But in this case, the chill Fenton family breakfast atmosphere (tv ignored) snapping cold in the instant Jack draws the weapon on Danny is what the scene needed. The snap-change to Jack and Jazz's attitudes as they notice Danny's reaction. The "this isn't normal anymore" to a morning that was perfectly normal until this moment. And, only after that moment, revealing to the reader that Danny is crying.

The news cast gets to serve its best purpose as environmental storytelling. Confirming to the reader that this is bad enough to be impacting Phantom's ability to fight, to supplement the narrative which (coming from Danny's POV) is trying to not admit how bad it is. ("Super healing is cool!")

It gets to serve its purpose by being completely ignored. Until it's too late.

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

hello there! before i begin, allow me to express how much i love your work! i've only recently come across the KoH fandom, and your writing has kept me, say, well provided for with all the reader x king baldwin fics and headcanons HEHE. so yes, thank you for the work that you do. <3333 as for my request, it was inspired by a song (the dream academy's version of "please, please, please let me get what i want", with the original by the smiths). i was thinking that it's mainly from king baldwin's perspective, wherein he's already in acceptance of his fate due to his leprosy. so that consumes most of his thoughts, only driven by his responsibility as king to keep moving. but he's not actually living, if you catch my drift. like, he has this "if death takes me now, i'll let it" sort of mentality. but then he meets reader (i'll leave as to how they met and eventually got closer up to you ^^) and his entire world changes drastically. met with this sudden change (and the newfound will to live) which begins to conflict with his time quickly running up, he prays fervently one night, begging that he will be given a second chance, to be able to spend the rest of his life with reader (hence, the song ^^). i was thinking that this is primarily angst, but if fluff will be added to it, that would be a wonderful addition too ^^

i hope this was comprehensible enough. again, thank you so much! i'd love to see how you'll interpret this in your writing! i simply can't wait ><

♧ Please Let Me Get What I Want - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Sheedle!! Thank you so much for this beautiful request, along with your constant love and support. Your words really mean the world to me 🫶. I hope this is what you had in mind for the fic! As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

PS: THE IMAGE I USED FOR THIS FIC IS MF PERFECT CAN WE APPRICIATE THAT FOR A MINNUTE

TW: Leprosy

As the sun began to peak above the horizon line in the distance, the streets came alive, signifying a new day in Jerusalem.

The sunlight crept across the stone floor of the royal chambers until it reached the large, plush bed where the king of Jerusalem slept soundly. Baldwin’s eyes blinked open at the feeling of warmth on his face.

For just a moment, he was at peace. His body didn't hurt and he felt no pain. But this moment did not last long as the dull ache began to spread around his body once again.

Baldwin groaned and turned over onto his back as he came awake slowly. He stared blankly up at the ceiling. The same ceiling he had stared at so many times before.

Sleep was the only escape now. The only time he didn't feel weak or tired was when he lay in bed after a long day, finally getting some time to himself.

But in actual fact, he didn't want time to himself. What Baldwin wanted more than anything was a wife. But not just a wife, a companion.

He often thought about this and had come to the conclusion that it would never happen. No woman in the kingdom would agree to marry a leper. Certainly not any sane woman at least.

Someone who he could share his deepest, innermost thoughts with.

Someone who could show him love.

Someone who he could love in return.

As he lay in bed once again awaiting the arrival of the physicians to clean his wounds, Baldwin let this thought consume him once again.

He often pretended he had a wife. Not obviously though, just subtle little things that gave the illusion of a woman's comfort.

Baldwin turned his head to the pile of pillows that lay on the other side of his double bed and sighed. Every night, he would stack the decorative pillows that adorned his bed for aesthetic purposes beside him and lay on his side, just right so it felt like somebody was holding him.

If he closed his eyes and imagined hard enough, he could pretend to feel the warmth of another right next to him. 

At this point, Baldwin awaited death and when it came he would welcome it with open arms. It wasn't just the illness that plagued him, but terrible loneliness as well.

He felt as if the last few years of his life were nothing more than wasted potential and with so much time alone to think, he couldn't escape these thoughts. As the physicians filed into the room and began to work gently on his frail body, the thoughts remained.

It wasn't until Baldwin was informed about the arrival of princess y/n and her family that the horrible thoughts of death left his mind. His interest sparked at the mention of her name and the name of her father, who had gone down in history for winning many battles in his youth.

Their family would be staying at the castle as they searched for a husband for the young princess y/n. She was the same age as Baldwin and was known for her gentle kindness and beauty.

That was all he knew of her.

Deep down in his heart, the young king secretly wished that he would be the one to marry her. But he knew that was simply impossible.

Possible technically, yes. But would she want to? Absolutely not. In his mind at least. 

And when he layed eyes on her for the first time, it was clear he never had a chance. She wasn't just beautiful, she was a work of art. Truly stunning in every possible way.

Her hair, her eyes, her lips. She was perfect, she was gorgeous, and she was… staring right at him? With a small smile and rosy cheeks.

Her bright eyes twinkled in the sun when she looked his way, causing him to blush behind the mask. He simply couldn't tear his gaze away from her and it seemed that she couldn't do the same.

After dinner, Baldwin was just leaving the physicians quarters to retire to his chambers for the night when he was startled by y/n standing right behind a corner.

Noticing him jump, y/n chuckled. “I'm so sorry your majesty, it's only me” she said, her voice soothing as she placed a delicate hand on his arm.

The touch made Baldwin’s heart race even faster than it already was.

“Oh it-it's quite alright princess. I'm just a little on edge is all. Long day” he tried desperately to steady his heart, especially when she blinked slowly and looked into his eyes with what appeared to be adoration. But it couldn't be, right?

The two got to talking as Baldwin offered to escort her to her chambers for the night which she gladly took him up on the offer.

They spoke of her marriage and how she hoped to finally find a husband as she had been so lonely. In turn, Baldwin spoke of his own misfortune in finding a partner.

“I don't know why no one has asked to marry you princess. You're wonderful” Baldwin told her as they reached her door. Y/n chuckled, blush spreading across her cheeks.

“You're too kind my lord. I could say the same about you, you know. I mean, look at you! You're a beautiful young man” she said, her voice gentle and kind.

Baldwin felt surreal.

Nobody had ever said something like that to him before. Not since the disease had ravished his body at least.

Sensing his bashfulness, y/n smiled and placed a hand on his masked cheek.

“You need not be so hard on yourself Baldwin. From what I have heard, you are a strong leader and a brave one too. My father holds much respect for you and I do too. But after this interaction, I hold much more than respect for you and I hope we can speak more tomorrow” the princess said with a smile.

Baldwin took her hand in his, holding it to his chest.

“I would love that more than you will ever know, princess”.

The two said their goodnights and retired to their chambers, each with a warm feeling of anticipation for what the next day would bring.

But the young king couldn't sleep. His mind was flooded with different scenarios.

Maybe she did want to marry him? But if she did, their marriage would be short and surely childless. Wouldn't that put her off being wed to him if she were to spend half of her life as a widow?

That night Baldwin prayed and prayed to God on his knees for a second chance. For a second chance at life, to be wed to y/n, to live a normal life with her.

He begged until he couldn't think anymore. Staggering over to his bed, Baldwin fell into a deep sleep. Morning came in no time.

--------------------

The following morning, Baldwin awoke as usual. But something was different.

He felt happy, he felt excited and looked forward to the day ahead.

He got out of his bed on his own and dressed himself before the physicians arrived, who were shocked to see him so mobile without immense pain so early in the day.

Y/n was much the same.

Since first laying eyes on the young king, her heart belonged to him. Before seeing Baldwin for the first time, the idea of marriage disgusted her. She didn't want to end up like her friends, forced into a relationship with a man far older than her who controlled her every move.

But after seeing and speaking to him, the idea of marriage seemed amazing. He was so kind and sweet but he seemed so sad.

She wanted more than anything to be the one who would make him happy. She knew of his leprosy as many did but that didn't bother her in the slightest. All she saw was a kind and gentle soul in need of love.

When y/n arrived at Baldwin’s chambers, he was overjoyed to see her. They spent the entire day together, talking and laughing, walking around the courtyard and playing chess. 

By evening, neither wanted the day to end. Neither wanted to leave each other's side at all for that matter.

But one good thing happened that evening and that was Baldwin requesting her hand in marriage (with the blessing of her father of course). Y/n grinned with delight and accepted without hesitation.

As the two spoke together on the couch in Baldwin’s chambers, the sun sank below the horizon leaving the kingdom in peaceful darkness.

Baldwin had removed his mask, revealing his bandaged face to her.

Much to his delight, y/n did nothing but compliment him and stare lovingly into his eyes for the whole evening.

As time went on, the young king felt himself growing more and more tired. His eyes struggled to remain open, but he didn't want his soon to be wife to leave.

He wanted her by his side, forever.

Y/n noticed this and smiled at the sleepy expression he wore while she spoke.

“You should get some rest, your highness” she said softly, placing a hand on his thigh.

“But I don't want you to leave,” he replied, his voice suddenly small. Her heart broke for him. So many years feeling alone and unlovable.

Y/n thought for a moment, “I have an idea!” she spoke after a second.

Baldwin looked up at her with curiosity.

“Why don't you get into bed and I will hold you until you fall asleep, then I will leave. Then we have no risk of being accused of adultery!”

A large grin spread across Baldwin's face, it was the cutest thing she had ever seen. “That would be perfect!” he exclaimed.

Baldwin got changed and climbed into bed, laying down on his usual side of the bed. But this time, he tossed the decorative pillows to the floor.

Y/n climbed into the bed beside him, “just get comfortable and I will hold you” she told him, her voice filled with love.

Baldwin nodded and turned on his side away from her, snuggling into the covers with a smile. Y/n waited a moment, then wrapped her arms around him from behind, pulling him closer so his back was pressed against her chest and her head was resting slightly above his, his blonde curls tickled her nose making her giggle with happiness.

“This is everything I have ever wanted,” the young king whispered, his voice gentle and sleepy.

“Likewise, my love. Just rest now, I will just be in my chambers when you wake” y/n replied, pressing a kiss to the back of his head.

Baldwin nodded and yawned, burying himself further into her arms. The young king was fast asleep in no time, lulled into rest by her warmth.

The single sound of a soft snore broke the silence. The quiet sound of rest told the princess that it was time to leave. As much as she didnt want to, she had to.

Unwrapping her arms carefully so as to not wake him, y/n stood and went to leave. But she couldn't, not yet.

Walking over to Baldwin’s side of the bed, she smiled down at his sleeping form.

Y/n bent down and kissed his forehead lightly.

“I can't wait until every night can be like this my darling. Rest well” she whispered before turning to leave.

Retreating into the night with anticipation for what the next day would bring.

[dorotheataylor]

Back to December

Pairing- Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

Summary- You broke up with him because you thought he deserved someone better than you. But here you stand, outside his door, apologising for that night, after realising you loved him too much to let him go. Based on Back to December (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift.

Warnings- angstttt but fluff at the end, hurt/comfort, no curses!au, swearing (maybe), slight ooc suguru (hes called clumsy hehe), probably my english lol.

Word count- 2.3k (excluding lyrics)

A/N- atp yall just know how much big of a swiftie I am lol. So here’s a new fic based on another taylor song haha. And from now on I will write for JJK fandom too coz i’m obsessed lmao. Let me know if you find any mistakes coz this isn’t proofread and hope y’all enjoy.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You knocked three times on the door of the house you knew all too well as you picked your nails.

Will he want to see you? Will he shout at you? Will he tell you to get lost? Whatever he does, you knew you deserved it.

You stood outside his door impatiently, nerves getting the best of you while you waited for him to open the door. You could hear things falling down from behind it.

You couldn’t help but chuckle. He was always the clumsy one. One of his things which you missed too much. Your eyes fell on thought of this. Oh how much you wished for a change in your mind back then.

You heard the lock of the door being undone and you started to freak out from inside. Was it a good idea to come here? Maybe. You were about to find out.

“Sorry for the delay. I was caught up-” You heard his voice quiet down when he saw you. God how much you missed his voice. You could listen to his voice every second of the day if possible.

You’ve been good, busier than ever

"Y/N," he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper as he took in your presence on his doorstep, as if he was making sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

The way he said your name, ached your heart. Because it wasn’t filled with love or warmth as before, instead it was more like recognising a stranger.

You took a deep breath before speaking, “long time no see, Suguru.” You smiled slightly.

He couldn’t believe it. He never thought he’d ever see you again after that unfaithful night. The wishes he made to see you every night before he went to bed actually came true. He could actually hear your voice after whole six months. He felt like he was about to cry.

Your guard is up and I know why

All he wanted to do at this moment was to take you in his arms and never let you go again. But he knew he couldn’t. What if you were here to make things even more awful than they already were? He couldn’t handle another heartbreak. So he stood his ground and decided to talk to you in a civil way.

“Come inside. It’ll start s-snowing soon.” He said, mentally cursing himself for stammering as he stepped aside to let you in.

“Thank you.” You muttered before entering his house. The familiar feeling came back to you. The aura and memories of his house, where you had spent countless nights together crashed into your mind like ocean waves. It was overwhelming and you did your best not to burst into tears.

“I’ll bring you something to drink. You can make yourself comfortable till then.” You heard him speak as he quickly walked into the kitchen.

Because the last time you saw me

Is still burned in the back of your mind

You knew he was doing his best to avoid a more than casual conversation with you. Because the last time you had talked, things turned bitter.

You gave me roses and I left them there to die

You still remembered that day like the back of your hand. He had showed up at your house with roses to surprise you and take you out on a surprise date. And you, being a stupid person, ruined it all.

“Here. I didn’t have anything else except for hot chocolate plus I know how much you love it.” He said handing you the cup filled with hot chocolate, his voice becoming a soft mutter at the last part.

‘He still remembers my likes and dislikes.’ You thought as you smiled softly at him and took the cup, your hands brushing a little. Your cheeks immediately turn red as you tried to hide them, while Suguru thanked the gods that his red cheeks won’t be obvious because it’s winter.

I’d go back to December, turn around and make it all right

But you knew him. You were slightly relieved you still had some effects on him like before. How much you regretted leaving him like that. If only you could go back time and make things right.

You took a sip of your hot chocolate before speaking, “thanks for the hot chocolate, Suguru.”

Geto thought he’d just die right now. The way you said his name, it made him want to forget everything that happened and just hold you into his arms, never letting you go again. But he knew he couldn’t do that.

After some long moments of silence, you decided to break it and said, “how have you been, Suguru?”

“I’ve been- good.” He said with a pause in between. He was lying, but he didn’t want you to know his mental state ever since you had left. “What about you?”

You couldn’t repeat his answer for this question, because you knew it was far from the truth. You couldn’t quite recall the last time you slept peacefully. Maybe it was when you were in Suguru’s arms, safe and loved.

Staying up playing back myself leaving

Your mind replayed memories of that unfaithful night, as if trying to torture you for what you had done. It had started to hurt physically. How much you just wanted apologise and hold him into your arms. But you knew you had lost that right. Why? Because of your stupid insecurities.

You had been in a few relationships in the past apart from Geto. And you were always called out for every little thing you did. Whether it was from the way you ate, or the way you talked, they’d make sure to remind you that you weren’t enough and weird, until they all left you alone. This lead you to believe the same, that you were the problem.

That was until you met Suguru. He was everything you could ask in a man. He was charming, a true gentleman, kind and caring boyfriend who never failed to remind you how much you mean to him.

And I think about Summer, all the beautiful times

You often daydreamed about all your memories from your relationship, from sneaking out at night to late night car drives, from celebrating each other’s birthdays to forgetting plans you’d made with your other friends. Your relationship with him was something you read in books about.

You still remembered the day when you realised that he was the guy you were going to marry someday. You had overheard him talking to Gojo about you. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop but when he mentioned your name, your ears had perked up. And the way be kept on talking about how amazing you were and how much he loved you, you knew he was the one for you.

Then the cold came, the dark days when fear crept right into my mind

But of course you had to ruin it all. The ‘what if’ thoughts came back to you. The thought of losing him because you weren’t good enough for him, scared you. You had told him about your past relationships, and he always reminded you that you are more than enough for him and he loves you with all of his heart.

Fuck your stupid negativity. You tried to believe him, you really did. But your mind wouldn’t let you. So it lead you to the one thing which you knew you were going to regret for the rest of your life. You let him go. And you hated yourself for it.

You gave me all your love and all I gave you was goodbye

You still remembered the way his face had immediately fallen the moment you spoke those words. He had tried to reason with you, but you wouldn’t listen. And you had slammed the door shut on his face.

Geto didn’t stop bombarding your phone with countless texts and missed calls for days. But you didn’t reply to any of them. Until one day he stopped. Maybe he realised that he was just wasting time being after you. Maybe he realised that you were the problem after all.

It turns out freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

Wishing I’d realised what I had when you were mine

You thought you had did the right thing but turns out, you didn’t. You had only made things worse for both of you. Because you know what they say, you only realise the value of something when its gone. And it turns out that you had loved him too much. You couldn’t let him go. Because you had realised that he was too precious for you to let go and you couldn’t survive without him.

So here you were, six months later, on his couch, drinking hot chocolate. You slowly came out of your thoughts and said the only thing which came into your mind, “I’m sorry.”

To say Geto was surprised was an understanding. He expected anything but an apology from you tonight. Blame him for being conscious and hurt. He didn’t say anything, giving the cue to continue.

“I’m so sorry, Suguru.” You started, trying your best not to sob, “I know this is probably the last thing you expect from me and won’t believe me but I mean it. I’m really sorry. I’m such a fucked up person, who always makes things worse, ruins perfectly going on lives of people, who always lives in self-doubts.”

“Y/N, I-”, Geto started to say something but you cut him off before he could say it.

“Please let me finish.” Geto nodded in response.

I miss your tan skin, your sweet smile, so good to me so right

And how you held me in your arms that September night, the first time you ever saw me cry

“I miss everything about you, about us. I miss how every morning you didn’t fail to wish me ‘good morning’, I miss how you never forgot to check up on me, I miss how you always found a way to make me feel special. I miss how you always held me close to you whenever I didn’t feel like myself. And most of all, I miss the way you used to love me.” You said, tears now falling uncontrollably from your eyes but you don’t care, determined to make things right.

I’d go back in time and change it but I can’t

So you continued, “thing is that I love you, Suguru Geto. And I love you too much to let you go. I made a stupid move by letting you go when all I wanted to do was hold you into my arms. And I hate myself for it. These past six months, I’ve been terrible. There’s not been a single day where I have not wished for myself to be somehow able to go back in time and make things right, stop myself from leaving. But I know I can’t.” You took a deep breath.

So if the chain is on your door I understand

“I know my actions are not something to be easily forgiven, but I promise to do anything to win your trust and love back. I’m willing to change. I’m willing to make things up with you. I swear that if you take me back again, I will love you right and never let you go. Because I have realised my life is nothing if you’re not in it. Please take me back, Suguru. I promise to prove myself worthy of your love.” You couldn’t speak anything after this, sobs continuously escaping your mouth.

Geto stood there, tears in his eyes as well, contemplating what to say. Your apology had caught him off guard, but he knew you had meant every word. He knew that his life was incomplete without you too.

But this is me swallowing my pride

You didn’t hear him speak for a good few minutes, so you take his silence as rejection. Of course he would reject you. You had hurt him, why would he want to get back with someone like you. You let out a shaky breath as a sigh, disappointment for you escaping through it as you stood up.

Standing in front of you saying I’m sorry for that night

You attempted to smile through your tears. If this was going to be the last time you see him, might as well say goodbye with a smile.

“I got your answer, Suguru. Thank you for giving me best moments of my life. Maybe I didn’t get to have you back, but at least I can live on with your memories. Maybe I-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence as you felt a pair of all too familiar lips on yours, shutting you up.

It turns our freedom ain’t nothing but missing you

You widened your eyes from surprise but immediately shut them as you kissed back, your hands reaching to hug his neck, bringing him closer to you. Suguru wrapped his one arm around your waist and other made its way in your nape, holding you just like he always used to.

Both of you could taste salty tears as you kissed, but weren’t sure who’s they were. All that mattered in that moment was the two of you. You poured all of your love, apprehensions, bottled up feelings for him, regrets into this kiss. He kissed you with same passion. As if your lips were the only thing he needed to survive.

Few moments later, Geto pulled away, foreheads still attached to yours, as he looked into your eyes. “Y/N, in these six months, you made me realise that the only thing which can complete me whole is you. Not getting to tell you these was tearing me apart. I thought I had lost you for good, but then you showed up at my door and all those feelings I had for you doubled. I love all of you, Y/N and I always will. And I’m willing to give us another chance, just promise me that you will talk to me next time you have those negative thoughts.”

Your heart melted hearing his words as you nodded, “I promise.”

Suguru ran his hand through your hair as he spoke again, “and I-I’ll need some time to completely forgive you. I hope you understand that. I’m just scared that you’ll leave me again.”

You quickly shook your head, “I mean it this time, Suguru. I’d never even dream of leaving you. I just got you back. And it’s okay. Take your time. I’m willing to wait for you, even if it is for an eternity.”

Suguru smiled at your words and pulled you into his chest as he swayed you slowly, holding you tightly close to him, and you finally felt complete again. You kissed his neck as you returned his gesture, silently promising him and yourself to never give up on him and let him go ever again.

I’d go back to December all the time

________________________________________

Ahhh I loved writing angst sm but it always breaks my heart if it doesn’t end with fluff. Anyways hope y’all liked this and if you want, you can send in request for JJK characters too!

(I might’ve gotten a little carried away at the end but i think it was worth it lmao)

[her-satanic-wiles]

Dawn Chorus - VIII

Dracopia x Fallen Angel!Reader

When you question the Almighty for a third time, you find yourself on the run and escaping a horde of wrathful angels ready to punish you for your insolence. Whose garden should you fall into than Cardinal Copia’s? And he has more nefarious plans for you.

Masterlist ⛧ Commissioned by anonymous ⛧ Series Masterlist

Words: 8.2k.

Reading Time: 33 min.

Warnings: Catholic guilt, cum swap, cunnilingus, divine voyeurism?, fellatio, finger sucking, free use fantasy, frottage, masturbation, pillow humping, praise kink, references to non-con, references to rape kink, references to somnophilia, self slut shaming, semi-public masturbation, this may be the horniest thing I’ve ever written

Taglist: @da-rulah @teenage-birt-dag @akayuki56 @dopey-fandom-girl @ravensbars @copiaspet622 @onlyhereforghost @ultrahalloweengirl @ad-astra-per-aspera-1976 @dolceterzo @whitepawfics @howlingco @sirianisrock @amaridelphi @katiegvf

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this fic is quite dark, I'm choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my decision. Thank you.

You spent more time in your cage since the wine cellar, actively not wanting to leave. For the first time since he put you in there, you felt safer behind bars than you felt outside of them. The Cardinal - or Copia (you weren’t sure what you should call him after… that) - went straight to his bed and fell asleep, not bothering to lock you in. As far as he was concerned, you weren’t a danger, nor had you misbehaved. You put yourself in there of your own volition, and you could remove yourself as you pleased.

Waking up the next evening, he was still conservative and modest about exposing himself to you as he got dressed for the night ahead, as though the night before had never happened, changing in the bathroom and leaving you to your thoughts in his room. He came back in, adorned in a different cassock from last night (a black one), and picked up his biretta from the dresser.

He cleared his throat, “Last night,” he began, not looking at you at all, “you regret it, right?” He didn’t wait for your answer. “Let’s just pretend it never happened, okay?”

You nodded, which he could see out the corner of his eye. He nodded too, put his biretta on, then turned to leave before hesitating at the door. “I won’t lock you in today, Angel,” he continued, “Your halo is still locked away, and you’ll have a ghoul to guard you, so go wherever you like.”

“Th-thank you.” You said, your voice gravelly from your sleep.

The Cardinal nodded and then left, making sure the front door clicked behind him. You heard him addressing one of the ghouls that stood guard at his front door and then the corridor fell silent, indicating that he’d gone for good. You were now free to wander around.

You wanted to leave - to take those books back to the library and pick new ones. But you couldn’t bring yourself to face anyone. You were sure they’d be able to see your transgressions on your face, that they’d know simply by looking at you that the Cardinal had sullied you and your good name and pure body the night before, while you both were drunk no less. Numerous sins were committed last night, and you weren’t sure you’d ever get the forgiveness you once craved, especially now.

You wandered into the Cardinal’s bathroom and turned the taps, remembering how to work the tub since the Cardinal taught you the first time. You hadn’t used this tub often, on account of your wings getting in the way, but your time in there had been most relaxing the last time, you felt like you needed to use it again.

Upon removing your robes, you let them drop to the floor where you stood, the fabric easily sliding off your body and pooling at your feet. Bubbles grew and popped in the water as it gathered in the centre, and filled up to perfection, making the room smell like eucalyptus and mint, immediately calming your mind and shushing all the doubts and worries that had plagued you for God knew how long.

You sunk into the warm water and your body relaxed instantly. You could practically feel the sin washing off of you from last night’s escapades, bubbles gathering around your skin and hiding your body as though they were protecting you from further violation, welcome or otherwise. You were able to quash most of your thoughts, bury them in a box and file them away in your mind, never to be looked at again. You sighed and relaxed further back, allowing your head to lull against the porcelain. If you weren’t already awake, you’d have no problem falling asleep in here.

“Given a body and not shown how to use it.”

Your eyes snapped open as you heard the Cardinal’s voice, clear as though he were standing right beside you despite you being alone in the room. The sound of his voice made your heart race, a sharp reminder of what had happened between you only the night before. You felt guilt enveloping you, threatening to drown you in its oppressive grip. The shame soaked into every part of your being and clung to you like a second skin. You were powerless to overcome it.

“You never touched yourself, have you?”

The quiet of the moment was broken by the eerie repetition of his words, which lingered in your thoughts. You couldn’t help but feel as if you had betrayed the very essence of your celestial nature, as if you had failed in some fundamental way.

“Virgins are so easy to please. So quick to cum.”

You dipped further into the water, as though trying to drown out the voice in your head that was claiming you. However, the marks left by your brief mistake and the stains of your indiscretion would not go away with any amount of water.

Your acts threatened to smother you under their crushing weight, bearing down on you like a heavy burden. You had deviated from the straight and narrow, giving in to want and temptation in a moment of weakness. And now you were left to consider the implications of your choices as you sat in the peaceful solitude of the bathtub.

Though guilt and regret weighed heavily on your mind, there was a part of you that couldn’t shake the pure pleasure that had flowed through your veins during your meetings with the Cardinal. There was an irresistible thrill in the restricted, a forbidden pleasure that sent shivers down your spine and ignited your body with desire, even with all the weight of your transgressions.

You had given in to the seductive pull of passion with every touch and caress, losing yourself in the intense ecstasy of the moment. You felt the Cardinal’s hands on your flesh, his lips on your body, kindling a fierce fire inside of you that would eventually consume you.

The sensation of his touch remained on your skin as you lay in the bath, a lingering reminder of the pleasure you had experienced together. You knew it was a sinful pleasure and you shouldn’t have indulged in it, but you couldn’t help but feel so satisfied after those delicious moments.

“The beauty of this form is that you can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.”

You bit your lip as you remembered how he felt, thick and heavy against your centre, rutting against you violently as he took his pleasures from your body. As you lost yourself in the memory, you noticed you were reacting in a similar way to last night; your heart rate rising, pulse quickening, the blood pumping through your veins much faster than before, your nipples now standing erect and sensitive as your breasts heaved with the rise and fall of your exerted breathing, the warm water running over the peaks and somehow stimulating them.

That was all bad enough, but your clit had begun tingling, too, exactly how it had when the Cardinal was teaching you about your body. His phantom thumb rolled over the nerves and had your hips bucking upwards, legs involuntarily spreading and waiting for someone to come and relieve your suffering.

“You can give yourself pleasure whenever you want.”

You can.

You shouldn’t.

Your mind telling you “no” didn’t stop your hand from trailing down your body, running over one of your nipples and making you hiss out in pleasure. Your mind telling you “no” couldn’t possibly stop your fingers from curling around your mound, allowing your middle finger to land where you needed it most. Just the mere connection of the pad of your finger sent a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins, making you gasp at the contact.

You remembered how the Cardinal moved his thumb to get you to cry out, and so, you copied his actions, swirling your middle finger in tight circles to replicate the feeling. And, oh. It felt exquisite. Not quite as divine as the Cardinal’s gloves melting into your flesh as they had done, but even still, it was good enough to steal noises from your throat; making your eyes shut to allow you to just feel. Little, breathy “ah”’s falling from your lips as the water sloshed around your thrusting hips, squirming beneath your own touch as you had his.

You applied more pressure and began moving your finger a little faster, crying out at the feeling. Your mind showed you the Cardinal’s face, reddened beneath his white skin as he rut against you, sweat pooling on his brow and that animalistic look in his eyes that made you feel so small and helpless beneath him, despite your impressive strength. With the fluttering of your hole around nothing, you were reminded of the way that the tip of his being kept catching on it, and how you couldn’t ignore the way your stomach flipped. He told you he wanted to bury himself deep inside you, feel you from a different point. You saw the disappointment in his eyes that reflected the emotion in your heart as he promised not to break that boundary you’d set in the moment.

But you wanted him to. God, you wanted him to take you there and then, spear you on himself and force you to sin with him…

Your eyes snapped open and you pulled your hand away. He could be watching right now - the Almighty, whom you’d so quickly and happily forsaken twice now in less than twelve hours. The water poured off your body as you stood, and climbed out of the porcelain tub, catching a glimpse of your flushed and lust-filled skin as you exited and entered dry land. You wrapped a towel around yourself, not bothering to pick up your robe as you trudged through the apartments and into the Cardinal’s bedroom.

“You think your god is watching one of his angels get - fuck! - ruined by a son of Satan?”

You shook your head, and slammed the heels of your palms against your temple, trying to rid yourself of his words - despite the excitement bubbling in your stomach at the notion.

What good could your God do now? You may have forsaken Him, but didn’t He do that to you first? So what if He watched? So what if He knew that you’d sinned? That you touched yourself just once to a memory of your own transgressions? Just one more time… one more orgasm wouldn’t hurt as you were already in so much trouble. You could go to confession after, tell a priest your sins and be reassured that He would forgive you now that you owned up to your mistake.

Just once more.

You walked over to the Cardinal’s bed and ran your hand over the soft, smooth velvet, the red darkening under your touch as you stroked it gently. A wave of contradictory feelings passed through you as your fingers traced over the Cardinal’s rich bedspread. Shame mixed with longing, guilt with desire, and the sensations swirled around you, threatening to overwhelm you.

The Cardinal’s words lingered in your thoughts, a sneaky voice that aroused deep-seated fears and desires that you were unable to ignore. You were drawn irreversibly towards the forbidden temptation of indulging in pleasure and giving in to the sinful desires that had been reawakened within you.

You allowed the towel to fall from your body, and climbed upon the bed, letting the velvet to engulf your naked flesh as you stretched out atop it. You’d spent many hours in this bed, sleeping, modest, covered. You’d never had the opportunity to truly feel it beneath your skin and how luxurious it felt. Sinning in style.

You reached for the Cardinal’s pillow with trembling hands, grazing the plush material with your fingers as you imagined him by your side. The recollection of his touch and his passionately whispered words caused you to feel a deep ache, and stoked a fire that burned with extreme intensity.

You brought that pillow to your face, smelling the scent of his cologne and skin imprinted on the fabric, remembering that scent mixed with his sweat. You were practically intoxicated again, overcome with hunger and desperation.

But a voice of reason whispered cautions in the back of your mind, even as you yearned to lose yourself in the heat of passion once more. You were aware of the repercussions of giving in to temptation, of the cost of breaking your word and giving in to the thoughts of forbidden desires.

You lay on your back, spreading and flattening your white wings out comfortably, not taking into account the stark contrast of the blood red beneath you, and the purity of your body. You kept clutch on that pillow as you let your hand travel down your navel and pick up where you left off, this time the sensitivity from your first escapade heightening your experience, and making you call out louder than before.

You rocked against your hand, giving yourself over to the pleasure coursing through your body, toes curling into the mattress as you worked yourself to completion. It felt so good. Clearing your mind of all wrongdoing to focus on the sensation, your hand working faster and faster.

Hitting that spot.

Right there!

Yes!

“Fuck!”

Your own voice echoed the Cardinal’s from last night, the profanities that tumbled from his mouth in the throes of passion infected you, and somehow made your touch feel just a little better. Just a few more circles into your flesh and you came undone, your back arching off the bed and your whole body shutting down as your orgasm washed over you, nothing moving except your finger as it worked over your clit continuously to draw out that feeling for as long as possible.

Your breathing was laboured when your orgasm finally subsided, and you crumpled onto the bed in a blissful heap. Disbelief clouded your mind for a second, unable to fathom how you’d lived for so long and not experienced such a feeling - and how it took a son of Satan to show you the light. But that was that. You’d never do it again. You made a promise to yourself there and then as you righted the Cardinal’s bed, cleaned the towel away, and dressed yourself in your robes again. Except, this time, your nipples were still sensitive and rubbed against the fabric, keeping your pleasure at the forefront of your mind.

The Cardinal and you set into a dance for the following week, as you both were avoiding each other as much as possible. He wouldn’t look at you, just dress and leave, and you’d be left to your own devices. You didn’t have the strength to leave the apartment, nor did you want to. Despite your promise to yourself, the second the Cardinal had closed the door, you removed your robes, climbed onto his bed and touched yourself, damn near addicted to the feeling.

You grappled with the act again, trying to convince yourself that you shouldn’t dig yourself into a deeper hole, that no matter how much confessing you did, one day you’d cross the line and be entirely unforgivable. Yet, it didn’t stop your body yearning to be touched, to be savoured, to give you the most pleasure while it could, because it couldn’t stop wanting. And so, despite the internal conflict and war zone that was occurring in your mind, you climbed onto his bed and gave yourself over, yet again, to pleasure.

Your hands were getting used to your touches by the middle of the week, allowing you to just go by muscle memory as you played with yourself. Sometimes, your mind would show you images of the Cardinal in the wine cellar, replay the whole scene frame by frame until you came at the thoughts. But sometimes, sometimes your brain would insert new scenes, new wants and wishes for you to think about every time you saw the Cardinal’s face. How you’d remember the victorious few in Canaan celebrate their wins and insert both yourself and the Cardinal into their places.

You imagined the Cardinal pressing you against a wall, burying himself inside you as he took you from behind, his hands pinching your nipples just as he told you to do in the wine cellar.

You imagined him slipping inside you in the wine cellar, giving into his own desires and not caring a peep about your own - using your body as the Lord did, except your pleasure came as a side effect.

You’d bury your face into his sheets and inhale his scent, clutching onto his pillow as you did the first time when you took yourself to his bed. But that action would end up opening a whole new door for you. The way that your body had sat meant the pillow grazed against your nipple every single time you squirmed, and even though it felt great, you got a better idea.

You pushed that pillow down your body with both hands, and wrapped your thighs around it keeping the edge of the pillow pressed against your folds. At first, you moved the pillow against your body, but your arms grew tired too quickly, and your hips ended up taking over, grinding them against the plushness.

You switched positions, for the first time getting off your back and onto your knees, stroking yourself with the pillow beneath you - and it felt better than before. Would the Cardinal allow you to do this to him? Would he lie beneath you as you took what you wanted from him, like the whores of Babylon did for their clients?

You bit your lip at the thought - the Cardinal treating you like his own, personal whore. How he’d take you over and over again, and make you serve him like you served your God. Why did you want this? Why did you want to get on your knees for this man? And why was his title falling from your lips as you fucked yourself against the very pillow he slept on?

You brought yourself over the edge twice in that way, the first time not keeping you satiated long enough to last the rest of the day.

Each day that passed made you more desperate than the first, guilt gnawing away at you as you’d violate yourself over and over again, but being unable to stop it from happening. Even the Cardinal breathing as he slept had you needing to rush into the living room, hike your robes up to your thighs, straddle the arm of the couch and work yourself to completion, hand over your mouth to muffle your needy sounds.

You realised in that moment that you didn’t truly face restrictions anymore, and it both thrilled and frightened you.

*

Guilt gnawed away at Copia, too, except for him it wasn’t because of divine intervention or other such ridiculousness. For him it was mixed in with sadness that you, the very object of his desires, just didn’t want him in the same way. You’d consented in the wine cellar, and Hell, you really enjoyed yourself, that much he knew to be true. But Copia felt the oppressive weight of sadness bearing down on his shoulders, suffocating him with its firm hold. The disappointment that was eating away at him, the bitter taste of rejection that lingered on his tongue like a poisonous pill, was something he was unable to get rid of.

Despite the intoxicating passion you two had shared in the wine cellar, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of unease that persisted in the back of his mind. He was aware that you had given your consent to that passionate encounter, but something in your eyes afterwards, a glimmer of doubt or hesitation, left him feeling empty and hollow inside.

For the briefest moment, he allowed himself to think that you wanted him as much as he did. But now that evening had broken through the illusion, all that remained was the harsh, cold reality of his unfulfilled desire.

Memories of that fateful night in the wine cellar replayed themselves in Copia’s head like a scratched record, every detail seared into his memory with agonising clarity. No matter how hard he tried, the vivid images that danced behind his closed eyelids and haunted him like ghosts from the past wouldn’t go away.

His ears echoed of your wanton moans, how they oozed with pleasure you’d never felt before that sent a wave of goosebumps up and down his body, hardening his cock at the thought.

With the room filled with the gentle glow of candles and the flickering flames creating long shadows on the walls, he was sitting by himself at his desk. His work was left undisturbed as he was preoccupied with thoughts of your euphoric presence, your gentle touch, and your passionately whispered words.

He couldn’t forget the way your body jiggled, the way you were so innocent and supple. The frantic beating of your heart as you practically hung off his dick. Lucifer - he needed it. He needed you.

Copia sighed heavily as he ran a hand through his messy hair, longing and frustration fighting inside of him like rivals. His thoughts were constantly focused on you, your image ingrained in his memory like a brand, making it difficult for him to concentrate or focus on the task at present.

Fucking his hand at his desk wasn’t his finest moment, but it was a necessary evil in the grand scheme of things. He remembered how good your mouth felt around his thumb, and ended up cumming all over his papers at the thought of you swallowing every drop he gave you - whether it poured down your throat or into your womb, it made no difference to him.

On top of his already troubled mind, Copia felt the weight of Sister Imperator’s scrutiny bearing down on him. Her persistent threats to interfere with your interrogating and even take over the Satanic Church did nothing but increase his nervousness and erode his faith in his own abilities.

Sister Imperator was not someone to be taken lightly, and her disappointment with his performance only made him feel more insecure. He tried so hard to keep up a front of competence and poise, but he couldn’t get rid of the sense that he wasn’t doing enough to fulfill his responsibilities as your carer and as the leader of the Church.

Every threat he received from Sister Imperator was like a knife to his pride, a constant reminder of his flaws and shortcomings. He was aware that he had to perform better in order to take back control of the situation and establish that he was suitable for his position in the Church hierarchy. However, despite his best efforts, he was unable to shake off the doubt that hung over him like a ten-tonne weight.

Copia could not deny the noticeable change in your demeanour since that evening. He was deeply struck by the subtle avoidance in your movements and the way your cheeks flushed whenever your eyes met his. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret deep in his chest, knowing he had embarrassed and made you uncomfortable.

He couldn’t help but notice your attempts to stay away from him and felt a little sorry for you. He had thought that the closeness you two had would strengthen your bond, but it appeared to have pushed a wedge between you. He wanted to be there for you, to help you overcome the growing gap between you, but he was afraid to invade your personal space because he knew you needed time to process what had happened between you.

He did, however, get a sneaking suspicion that you were no longer as innocent as you made out to be. He tucked himself into bed one morning and lay his head on the pillow, eager for a day of sleep when he smelled something different about his room.

The smell on his pillow was familiar, and it made his heart skip a beat. He stopped, trying to figure out the source of the scent that was now filling the room with his enhanced senses. The scent was subtle and seductive, stirring something deep inside of him.

He took a deep breath and the aroma surrounded him, enveloping him in a blanket of desire and warmth. And suddenly, he realised what was going on. It was your smell, distinctive and unmistakable, but with a distinct twist as it seeped into the pillow’s material. That same smell had lingered on his hand after the wine cellar, your cunt tormenting him from the leather of his glove for days after. He couldn’t bring himself to wash it away, instead choosing to let it linger until it naturally faded.

You’d been touching yourself, he was sure of it.

Copia felt a shiver run down his spine as a flicker of longing ignited within him at the realisation. He recalled the warmth of your body against his, the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips, and the softness of it against his lips. Strong and all-consuming, the memory flooded his mind, making him feel both regret and desire at the same time.

The memory urged his hand down his pyjama pants with his stained pillow pressed to his nose, inhaling you and making himself cum quietly so as not to wake you.

Yet moments before his orgasm hit, he heard you leave the room, and didn’t return. When he woke up that evening, he found you passed out on the sofa, cheeks flushed and thighs exposed beneath your skirts that had lifted in your sleep. He bent down and could smell you on the arm of the sofa, and instantly he felt his cock stiffen once again. You were so tempting, just lying there after humping the furniture like a dog in heat, sweet on the eye yet sinful in the mind. He could have just slid into you there and then and had his way with you, but instead he took to fucking his hand in the shower once again.

His suspicions were finally confirmed the very next night, returning home a little earlier than normal to find you in a precarious position.

Your back was to the door, and you couldn’t hear him enter over the sound of your own moans as you rubbed yourself on the arm of his desk chair, entirely without clothes. Your wings hung loosely behind you, shifting as your hips moved back and forth on the upholstered section of the arm, little thrusts that had you gasping and whining, sounding delightful each time.

And you had no idea he was there, just losing yourself in the pleasure, clit dragging along the fabric and, as he got closer, both hands on both nipples, pinching and pulling to add to the sensation. Your movements were so fluid, it was painfully obvious how experienced you were now - no longer the pure angel he’d defiled in the cellar. A small part of him was angry that he hadn’t been involved in this whole process, that he hadn’t got to witness your journey with self-pleasure and diving deeper and deeper into corruption of your own free will. The other part of him recognised that you were feral because of him and his cock, and how desperate you were to recreate that.

Fuck - your scent filled the entire room to the point where it smelled like sex and had his cock chubbing up beneath his cassock. If you let him, he’d bend you over his desk and fuck you until you passed out - probably wouldn’t even stop then.

He waited; bade his time until he could watch you cum again, the muscles in your back spasming as you finally tipped over the edge. The way your body froze and your breath hitched was delightful, and had sent shivers down his spine and blood rushing to his core making him fully hard and gagging for you. He could fantasise about the dark as much as he wanted, but there was nothing that made him more unhinged than watching his partner cum. Nothing made him more possessed than the way the body looked as it orgasmed, how it sounded and tasted.

Your blood was so much sweeter now, he could smell it pumping through your veins much faster than usual. Obviously, he knew that blood was sweeter after an orgasm, but even so, yours was a calling. He was a bee to honey. He wanted a taste of you so badly.

In the throes of your passion, you couldn’t hear him approach. You could hear the beating of your own heart and the sound of your breaths rising and falling with the exertion.

“Having fun without me, I see,” he whispered into your ear.

You jumped out of your skin, screaming when you saw him in your peripheral vision, falling onto the seat of the chair with your right leg still hanging over the arm, your left keeping you upright with your foot planted on the floor. He had a smug grin on his face, his mouth lifting up on its right corner and that same dark look in his eyes that he had before. His left hand was on the back of the antique chair as he leaned on it, staring down at you with those eyes that told you he was hungry. Your right hand was also on the back of the chair to hold you upright, while the other rested on the desk as you were pushed to sit in between the wooden arms sideways, looking up at him with wide, doe eyes that made him groan. One of your wings had fallen, and was resting largely on the floor. The other had been pinned against you and the upholstery.

It didn’t escape you how close his fingers were to yours, nor that you were still completely naked and bearing the weight of his gaze. The way your body had fallen and steadied itself had left your core wide open, spread out and glistening in the warm light of the room and so cold from the air teasing it as your sensitivity began to set in.

He put his right hand on top of yours on the desk and leaned over your body, effectively trapping you where you fell and hovering above you. His weight wasn’t entirely put onto your hand, meaning you could move it if you wanted to. But the shock had rendered you immobile - well, the shock and the look in his eyes.

“If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask,” he said, voice low and gruff like it was down in the wine cellar.

He was hardly touching you, barely near you, yet you felt as though he was suffocating you completely. You were hot, the strength of his gaze warming a flush on your cheeks and ensnaring you in his trap while you remained breathless and helpless. And needy.

He was offering himself to you on a golden platter, praying that you’d say yes. Waiting for that word to fall from your mouth.

He taunted you further, “Did you think I didn’t know? Did you think I couldn’t smell you everywhere? Was there a piece of furniture that you didn’t drag this needy little cunt all over, hm? Even my pillow couldn’t escape your horny little rampage.”

Your eyes kept moving from his eyes to his lips, watching his mouth form words underneath his moustache, and thinking about how it would feel elsewhere.

“Will you ask for it, angel?” he asked, his tone more decisive. “Or will you tell me to walk away?”

He watched your eyes as they moved around his face, and could practically hear the cogs turning in your mind. You were seriously considering it. It amused him.

Without warning, you launched yourself upwards, pulling your hand out from underneath his and wrapping your arms around his neck to keep you steady. Your lips crashed onto his, a desperate, inexperienced kiss that was all teeth and tongue, but totally conveyed your ferality and your need to be ravaged. All shame flew out the window when you pressed your naked body against his cassock, feeling his hardness pressed against you but dampened by the fabric.

He grunted at the action, but immediately flew into his response. His hands came to your waist and clutched onto you, holding you steady and relieving the pressure from his neck as he held you upright. You whimpered between the smack of your lips together as his tongue entered your mouth, less bloody than before but still so breathtaking. You wanted him to take everything from you now, Almighty be damned. So far from the angel you were since you came here, now you were eagerly spreading your legs for a vampyre no less. Who had you become? And why were you fine with it?

The Cardinal pulled and pushed at your body, manoeuvring you to sit upon his desk with your legs spread and waiting for him. All the while, his mouth never left yours until he had got you where he wanted you. Those lips of his then began their journey down your body, stopping at your neck where he paid particularly close attention to the pulse point, then travelled down over your breasts, to lick and suck at your nipple. He then copied the movement to the second one, just to hear you cry out for him again. Then to your stomach, and finally landing on your mound, pulling the chair up and taking a seat.

“Wh-what are you doing?” You asked, breathlessly.

“You liked my fingers last time - you’ll like my mouth today.” He responded, simply.

“No but… you can’t.”

He looked up at you. “Oh, sweet, innocent angel. I promise you I can. And I will.”

“But-”

“Relax.”

He let out a growl upon seeing you; your glistening, tight heat exposed to him, ready and waiting for his tongue to ravish you like the heathen he was. He teased you by planting a kiss… or several… on your thighs, making you want in a way you never imagined possible.

His finger moved up and down your folds, once or twice catching on your clit, making you a shiver and a gasp from excitement and sensitivity. His eyes fluttered shut with delight as those fingers that had collected your slick slipped into his mouth. The exact same flavour from all those nights ago when he licked his gloves clean of you. The very same taste that tormented him upon smelling you fucking yourself on his furniture.

He kissed you exactly where you wanted him. His tongue came out, laving over your clit exactly as his fingers had, swirling and dancing over your flesh and making you cry out for him. Your back arched off the desk entirely as your body moved instinctively, hands flying to his hair and digits locking around his mouse-brown strands. The Cardinal rushed in, his tongue swirling roughly around your sensitive clit and intermittently sucking at it to elicit those heavenly noises from your lips. Hips rocking back and forth as they had done every night and day this passed week or so, chasing your pleasure and riding his tongue, like you were used to doing with everything else.

The first time he locked his lips around your clit and sucked, you screamed. Not just an outcry or a moan, a genuine scream of surprise that made the Cardinal chuckle between your legs. Your fingers tightened in his hair as you jumped, only to feel his hands push you back into the original position you were in.

His lips moved, consistently hitting the right spots and making you clench around nothing while his moustache scratched against your labia. All the while, gasps and groans were falling from your mouth, but he wanted more. He pulled away and replaced his lips with his fingers, buttery soft gloves touching you once more.

“You have to tell me,” he began, licking his lips clean of you, “you have to tell me how it feels.”

“Mmm!”

“No, angel, use those words you learned so prettily. Does it feel good?”

“Y-yes!”

“Do I make you feel good?”

“Yessssss - oh!”

“Did you like my mouth?”

“S-so mu-uh! Much!”

He laughed. You really had no idea what he wanted you to do. His laugh wasn’t malicious - he certainly wasn’t making fun of your naivete. You were just so sweet - so innocent, even after everything you’d done this week.

“Which did you like more, angel? My fingers or my mouth?”

“Oh! Mouth! I l-like your mouth!”

“You want me to use it again?”

“Yes!”

“Beg me to. Tell me how much you want my mouth.”

His movements on your clit got faster and added more pressure, scrambling your brain. You were trying to find sentences to formulate, but nothing was coming out. “I…” you began, feeling overwhelmed. “I-” You tried to think of something, anything, but your mind was too focussed on the pleasure it wouldn’t work. You took a breath, and whined, “Please.”

Copia would have just laughed. If you weren’t you, he would have degraded you, told you to try harder, that you obviously didn’t want it hard enough. But your please was so desperate, so innocent like you might cry, for once it was the only thing he needed. He’d teach you how to use your words properly before the next time - for now, he’d oblige, because there wasn’t a way that he couldn’t.

He dove straight back into your core face-first, vigorously sucking and licking at your wetness and putting his index finger inside of you, making you cry out once more. He curled that finger upwards, and kept repeating that motion over and over again until your body felt like jelly.

Now, you were moaning, but in between your whines, whimpers and screams, was the occasional peppered “Good”, “So good” and “Yes!” until eventually a combination of his lips and his fingers had you tipping over the edge, and cumming around him, leaking out more and more until you were entirely spent, hole clenching around him as you peaked.

With one final kiss to your clit, he pulled back, looking up at your reddened and exhausted face with pride. He stood up and nestled himself in between your open legs, running his lips and tongue over your bare skin, up your neck before capturing you in a kiss. You could taste yourself on his mouth, and feel his hardness pressed up against your centre.

You broke away. “Are you…” You began. “I mean, do you - will you…?”

The Cardinal laughed at you, your awkwardness over the subject, your innocence even now not allowing you to finish any of your sentences. “Fuck you?” He asked harshly, just to see your reaction.

You nodded.

“Do you want me to?” He asked.

“Yes, but -”

“Then, no. I won’t.”

“What?”

“If you have to say but then you don’t want to. But what I just did for you,” he brought his index finger and thumb to your lips and pinched the bottom one in between them, “would you like to do for me?”

“I can do that?”

He smiled, eyes trained on your lips. “Of course. If I taught you, would you? Would you use your mouth for me?”

You hesitated for a moment, not because you weren’t intrigued or because you didn’t want to. Mostly it was because you didn’t know how, or what such an act even looked like. But still, you nodded and said, “Yes.”

He turned the chair to face adjacent to the desk and took several steps back, bringing his gloved hands to his cassock and removing the garment completely. He ordered, draping his robes over the back of the loveseat. His gloves were the next to go, being draped on top of his cassock. He was left in his undergarments: sweatpants and a t-shirt. The sweatpants left nothing to the imagination, showing the outline of his hardened length beneath the lightweight fabric. He settled onto the desk chair and looked into your eyes. “On your knees, angel.”

You did as he asked, remembering this position from what felt like months ago now. How he was drunk in his room, holding your halo in his hand and putting his thumb in your mouth, relishing in the feel of it. You saw the same look in his eyes, only this time it had heat pooling again in your… what did he call it? Cunt? There.

He reached down and picked up your hand. “If it’s too much at any point,” he began, moving that hand to his thigh, “tap on me two times. Show me you can do it.”

You did, tapping on his clothed thigh as he requested despite you not understanding why it was requested of you. He didn’t need to do that.

“Good girl.” He dipped into the waistband of his sweatpants and fished his cock out, and looked at your eyes widen. The Cardinal was big. You knew he was because you’d felt him on you before, but it was a whole different experience seeing him. He didn’t let you the first night you spent together. Not only was the Cardinal long, he was quite girthy, and you wondered how that would feel going in your mouth. You couldn’t take your eyes off him.

“Now,” he continued, “open that mouth for me.”

You did as you were asked, and watched him sit forward. The thumb that he had in your mouth before came back up to your lips and ran over them softly, before he placed it inside.

“Close your mouth around it.”

You did.

“I want you to suck my thumb. Get it nice and wet.”

When you started to suck, you heard him groan. It was quiet and deep, similar to the noise he made when he first got pleasure from you down in the wine cellar. He muttered a, “Cazzo,” which you understood to be “fuck”, and watched him become enraptured by your lips enclosed around his digit.

“I want you to do this when my cock is in your mouth, angel. You think you’re ready?”

You nodded and felt him pull his finger from your mouth.

He widened his legs, inviting you to sit closer, and lifted himself with his hand at the base to make it easier for you. “Tease me a little,” he told you. “Run your tongue up and down me.”

He was doing his best to not overwhelm you, keep you as comfortable as possible. Sucking dick wasn’t a big deal, he knew that, but to someone who’d never done it before it could be a little intimidating. He’d know. He remembered the first time he’d done it and how the person had guided him through it, showing him what they wanted from him and making sure they both took their time. He was so eager to please back then, he did too much too quickly and while his partner had a good time, Copia felt like he fucked it up entirely. The same went for the first pussy he ate, too.

Your mouth opened enough to let your tongue slide out, and he hissed when you made contact. You licked a broad stripe from the base up to the tip, and felt a flutter in your stomach when you heard the groan he made. So, you did it again. This time adding more pressure and earning yourself another hiss.

“A little more spit, angel,” he told you.

You gathered your saliva on your tongue and repeated the action before.

“Oh, that’s it. Take the tip in, now.”

You did one final lick before fluidly taking his tip into your mouth, sucking on the very tip of his cock gently. You didn’t know where to look at first, and so you just looked ahead at his soft tummy, but when you looked up at his face, you realised you were missing out on his expressions: the dark eyes trained on you, the way his top row of teeth bit down on his lower lip, the redness creeping up his cheeks. In that moment, you understood that seeing him enjoying it was the reason why people did this for others. Watching their reactions to your actions was the pleasure that you’d get from an act like this. And you’d do this more often if this was the response.

“Looking up at me so innocently,” he commented when you made eye contact. You’d known for a while it was your corruption that turned him on the most; sullying an angel to get revenge on a Lord he hated, to drive her closer to Hell opposed to the Heaven she came from. Perhaps you’d be lying if you said you didn’t share that feeling. Disobeying the Almighty had given you a newfound thrill - feelings you never had before.

You moved down him a little, taking the initiative first and putting the whole head in your mouth and sucked just a little harder. The Cardinal hissed and his hand flew to your hair instinctively, just how yours did to his hair when he did this to you. This wasn’t a purposeful move, this was just his body reacting to the pleasure, trying to keep you there. Once he knew what he was doing he pulled his hand away.

“S-sorry,” he grumbled.

You pulled off him with a pop. “Does it feel good?” you asked.

“So good, angel!”

You nodded and went right back to it.

“Mm, angel. Move your - fuck - head back and fo-orth, up and d-down.” When you did as he asked, he tipped his head back over the chair. “Oh merda, just like that!”

Every time you moved your head forward, you took a little bit more of him into your mouth, gaining more confidence with each of these reactions. More expletives in Italian fell from his mouth, words you didn’t care to try and translate. He tried his hardest not to buck his hips, not to fuck up into your mouth and overwhelm you too quickly, but it was feeling too good and sometimes he couldn’t help himself, shifting his hips upwards and sliding just a little more into your mouth.

“I won’t be this g-gentle with you in the future, angel- ah!” he told you. “One day, I’m gonna bury - mmm - m-myself in that tight, little throat of yours and make you cry. Cazzo! Been thinking about… about it for so long.” He let out a shaky breath. “Take a little bit more in, if you can.”

You did.

“Oh - Sathanas! Harder. S-suck harder. Gonna cu-um down that throat.”

With every instruction you followed, you watched him melt into the upholstery. His hand moved back to your hair and helped move your head at the pace he wanted, while trying his hardest not to put too much pressure on you and choke you. He wanted you to discover that on your own… or at least, later on with his help at your request.

The Cardinal was practically putty in your hands, breathlessly wrapped around your little finger as you continued to work this magic over him. He could control you with your halo, maybe you could control him with this.

He would have you take breaks, especially when you started taking more of him into your mouth, giving your throat a rest and teaching you how to touch him with your hand - another thing he really liked. He wanted a firm grip, a little rough, fast. And it was that, your hands working the base of his cock and your mouth sucking on the head that sent him over the edge.

He’d tried to warn you, tried to push you off him so he wouldn’t cum directly into your mouth for the first time, but neither of you tried hard enough, or moved quick enough to stop it from happening. And so, his cum landed on your tongue, the faint taste of iron taking you off guard for a moment. He kept his hands on your head, holding you in place while he finished in your mouth, only letting go when he was done with you.

When you popped off him, you held your hand beneath your face to catch any of him that would spill. You didn’t know what to do with it, not until the Cardinal knelt down in front of you and captured you in a kiss, using his tongue to remove as much of his cum from your mouth as he could. Some of it spilled down your chins and onto your bodies, his t-shirt becoming damp at his own cum. He swallowed the rest, as did you after seeing him do it, and let him help you up off your sore knees.

The Cardinal led you to the bathroom where you both cleaned your mouths, before you both dressed, the Cardinal in a new shirt and you back into your same robes.

“Rest up,” the Cardinal told you, putting his robes back on, “take a bath if you need to. I have to get back to work. But I fully intend on seeing you tonight.”

You simply nodded in response, and watched him leave again.

When you lay on his bed, for the first time in a long time, your instinct was to close your eyes and fall into a light sleep.

Prev./Next

[aziraphales-library]

Hello lovelies! Do you have any fics in which Aziraphale just breaks or snaps and Crowley is there to help deal with the fallout?

Also, thank you for all the work you do for the fandom, I love coming on here every couple days and finding a new fic.

Hi! You can check our #aziraphale's trauma, #protective crowley, #mental health, #emotional hurt/comfort, and #bamf aziraphale for fics to enjoy. Now, breaks and snaps have different connotations, I feel. So here are a couple where Aziraphale breaks down and struggles, and a couple where he snaps and gets angry. Mind the tags on some of these!...

The consequences of averting the apocalypse by Whovian_holmes (G)

Aziraphale hasn't been feeling himself since the whole business with Armageddon, and he can't hold it back any longer.

Flaming Like Anything by Sunglasses_In_The_Bentley (NR)

Aziraphale misses Crowley terribly. Heaven is a miserable place to be and all this talk about the Second Coming is making Aziraphale nervous. Can he stand the pressure? And what will happen when he snaps?

Fear Not by EdosianOrchids901 (E)

When Aziraphale is attacked by a group of humans, he struggles against his desire to harm them. Finally, he snaps and unleashes righteous fury. Can Crowley help him find his way back?

The Angels Don't Fly Down Here, Prove Yourself and RISE by VariantLoki (M)

A rush of all different emotions flooded into Aziraphale’s head, swirling together violently like a hurricane in the middle of the ocean. He sank to the floor, shutting his eyes and clenching his fists together so much that his nails were digging into his palms. His body started to shake, and he could feel the tears beginning to form. He sat there like that for who knows how long, trembling in what he could only assume was a panic attack. Emotions continued to clash within him. Fear, Despair, Guilt, Pain, and countless other extremes all fought inside his mind until one came out victorious in their war and took over. Rage.

Appendange by midnightdragons (T)

“It is unangelic to act the way humans do, Aziraphale. Did the Lord not craft you to be an angel?" When coming back from a meeting in Hell, Crowley runs into Aziraphale, who is returning from a respective meeting with Heaven. However, the demon soon realizes that something is very, very wrong, as Aziraphale is acting less like an ethereal being, and more like an innocent child whose parent had screamed in their face for no reason at all.

a moment's silence by viperinz (T)

Crowley rubs a hand down his face, sighing. “Then you know that you shouldn’t have done that.” “It was the only choice I had. If you got smitten—” Aziraphale swallows, feeling his back throb in pain. “You would have died right where you stood. I could not allow that.” Crowley’s mouth turns into a thin line, his fury radiating through the room. “So, what? It was better if it was you rather than me that took the hit?” “Yes!” Aziraphale exclaims, sitting up in bed. He winces as his back protests the movement, but he needs Crowley to understand. “You deserve better than what I was able to ever give you, and you need to help Muriel and the Messiah. If I ceased to exist, nothing would change the outcome of stopping all of this.” “No, you don’t get to say that.” Crowley walks up to the bed. “If you think I’ll ever stand to lose you again, then you’re bloody wrong. The outcome would be different because I wouldn’t have you, you daft thing.”

After everything is said and done, Aziraphale has to learn to adjust to life on Earth after seven years of being in Heaven. Luckily, Crowley is there to help him heal, and to give him the love that he feels he's lost.

- Mod D

[oonajaeadira]

Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 1: Spring

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: eventually Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Mostly just Ellie being a swear mouth. There’s a lamb birthing. Fluff…this fic is sloooooow.

Summary: Joel and Ellie return to Jackson and you introduce them to the sheep.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

Here it is, y’all. Not much happens. It’s just life in Jackson. There’s more Ellie here than Joel, but that’s because I figure Joel wouldn’t even turn his head toward someone if Ellie didn’t love her first. I’m just setting the stage for healing, for giving Ellie and Joel a nice home and good things. Nothing happens. Life is slower and softer here. Welcome to the Roost.

You were there when Tommy Miller was ushered–bloodied and busted–by the patrol through the gates of Jackson. The hard steel of Maria’s eyes through the slit between her hat and kerchief found you in the crowd and told you with a glance, I know what I’m doing. Meet me at home.

“Yeah, he’s one of them,” you’d confirmed to her later that afternoon as one of the Roostlings tended to his split lip and eyebrow in her living room. “I say we leave him to the coyotes.”

You’d trusted them once upon a time, the Fireflies. But your experiences with them were a deep education in morals and humanity. What you’ve come to believe is that everyone has an equal right to life and compassion and protection. And you might not have found that in yourself if the Fireflies hadn’t come through your papa’s ranch touting that sentiment but living up to a totally different set of rules, one where everyone had an equal expendability for the greater good of the survival of the species.

Fuck the species. If humans were meant to die out, then they would. Nothing is permanent. Not civilization or any one species, not even the mountains that surround your town–even the wind and rain would take them someday. All you can do is be good to those here and now, nurture what you have, and mourn what you lose with a little humility and gratefulness that you got to enjoy it in the first place. There’s already enough suffering. Why add to it? Or prolong it? Just let us all wane with kindness and compassion. Spend our days eating good food and caring for sheep, wildflowers swaying in the sunshiney breeze and stars twinkling at night–

“You go somewhere, Meadowlark?” Tommy teases as he passes you a plate of honey-glazed carrots, bean salad, and egg souffle, breaking you out of your reverie. You’ve come to prefer his tamales, but Maria wanted to use up some of last year’s supplies, so this Sunday’s family meal is harvest plate.

“I was just thinking about the day you came to Jackson.”

Leaning back in the wooden dining room chair, dark eyes glinting in the candlelight, his smug little smile is insufferable. “You wanted my hide on a fence.”

“Stretched and tanned. Could have been useful for patching boots at least.”

“What was it changed your mind again? Oh yeah. Weatherproofing the storehouse, building out your Roost, constructing a working loom–”

“It was the cornbread. And maybe the tamales.” Keeping a deadpan glare between you while stabbing a carrot and taking a bite, you point your fork at your best friend. “And you’re good to my girl here.”

Maria chuckles through a mouthful, shaking her head down at her plate like a mother trying not to let two warring siblings know how amusing they are. “I regret everything. And nothing.” The same dark eyes that glinted with reservation on Tommy’s first day hold back none of her big, tough heart as they seek him out now. “But speaking of mending shoes…you reminded me. Tommy’s brother came by while you were at the Roost.”

Your fork, halfway to your mouth, drifts back down to the plate. “Joel? Here? How’d he find you?”

Tommy answers carefully, chewing slowly, thoughtfully. “He didn’t, really. Patrol found him. Him and a teenager. They were looking for the Fireflies because…the girl belongs to them or something. Used my last known location and headed out west.”

“From Boston? On foot? And he survived?”

“All the stories I’ve told you about him and that’s what surprises you?”

Tommy’d been an open book from day one, answering Maria’s questions about his background, the QZs he’d lived in, why he felt the need to leave the Fireflies. As they’d grown closer and he joined in your family dinners, there were stories traded from the beforetimes, about his construction business with his brother, how his niece’s death changed them both, the things they’d done to good people just to survive. He held nothing back and owned up to his mistakes. Although he often blamed Joel for actions he willingly took part in. Still, admitted that he used his army training to teach Joel to shoot and unwittingly turned him into a killing machine.

But even so, he missed him. You could see that. Tommy missed his big brother. Wished it could be different, that he could have changed him, brought Joel back from his numbness before it was too late. Best he could do was run away from his regret, swing the other way and try to even out all his wrongs…but then found out that the Fireflies weren’t the answer to any of it. And despite all Tommy had admitted to doing, it was this ability to forgive, to take some fraction of responsibility, and to shelter his light through the darkness that Maria took a shine to.

You involuntarily glance toward the living room, toward the mantle where there’s a polaroid of a ruggedly handsome thirty-five year old man and a girl in fluffy brown pigtails. “Shit, Tommy. You think he’ll head back here?”

“Said he was counting on it.”

There’s a somber silence at the table as everything comes to a halt. Maria’s not exactly chilly, just… reserved. Ah. They’ve already been talking about it.

“Should I be congratulating you on a family reunion or….?”

The sudden winter of their discontent warms to a spring as your old friend goes back to her plate. “Well, it’s yet to be determined. Of course he’s welcome here, but not if he brings trouble.”

“He’s not going to bring trouble, sweetheart. You should have seen him that night we talked. He’s got demons chasing him, but he’s tired of running. He needs good people. We’re good people.”

“Unless he finds those Fireflies and they take him in first,” you interject. “Seems to me they’re just like everyone else, and a man who’s that good at mindless, morally-gray protection is a valuable asset.”

That sets him laughing, breaking the tension, throwing you unexpectedly off-guard after you’d just darkly insulted his kin. “Joel? Join the Fireflies? Not a chance in heaven, hell, or all the shit between! He’ll be back. He’s an asshole, but he’s my brother and I know him. He’ll be back. You’ll see.”

________

The day after coming back from your next shift at the Roost, you find yourself ass to the mud on the street outside the Jackson stables. Two bodies–yours, and that of a larger child–rounding a corner in colliding trajectories. You’d been fiddling with the buttons on your walkie, not watching where you were going, your boots taking you home the way they’ve done for years.

But she’d been moving fast–not running, but walking with that speed that teenagers are only capable of when they’re stomping off in a probable fit of angry hormones.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” she curses, diving for your wayward walkie and the batteries that spit out all over the ground as you get yourself up and your ass dusted off. “Here,” she says, clumsily dumping a cluster of plastic and tech into your hands. “I hope I didn’t break it. Are you like one of the marshals here or something?”

A quick rummage through the jumble in your hands shows no damage and you start pumping the batteries back in, casting a glance around for the compartment cover. “Not quite.” Seeing what you need a few feet away on the ground, you nod at it. “Would you mind getting that cover, miss…er… You know, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here.”

“Ellie.” She watches with interest as you clip the walkie back together and push the activation switch. “I’ve never seen one that small.”

“It’s actually an old kid’s toy. Meadowlark to Whippoorwill,” you mumble into the walkie, your lips nearly touching the plastic speaker, “just had a butterfingers. Testing the walkie.”

“What’s a butterfingers? Are those like code names?” Ellie asks.

Her eyes–black and sparkling–hold your own, a tense moment for both of you as you both hope for different reasons that the machine still works. “Something like that.”

“Whippoorwill here,” comes the voice through the can. “I hear you. Actually need a favor. Send a change of clothes through patrol tomorrow. The big one finally popped and she was a gusher.”

“Damn! I missed it by one damn day? Shit. One or two?”

“Three!”

“Uuuugh. Well that’s just fuckin’ fantastic. Glad you were there to catch ‘em, Whip. This is gonna be a good year. I think Hank’s on the round over there tomorrow. I’ll go pawing through your closet and send some things along.” Starting off in the direction of your friend’s house, you wave back at your new acquaintance. “See ya, Ellie. Nice to meet you. Take it slow around those corners, ‘hear?”

_____

The run-in wouldn’t have been memorable but for the next night when you show up at Maria and Tommy’s place for family dinner, carrying a warm basket of muffins, happy and singing to yourself as you dance in through the door…and come to a stop when four pairs of dark eyes turn to you from the dining room.

Guests? At family dinner? A man and–“Hey there…Ellie, right? Fancy meeting you here…”

The girl smiles from her seat at the table, waving with a hand covered by the sleeve of her raglan top. “Hi.”

“Oh. You know each other,” Maria says, lifting the basket out of your hands. “Then you must have met–”

No. You haven’t met him. But he stands up from the table, wiping a hand on his jeans and extending it to receive yours. Manners. Polite. That’s unexpected knowing the little that you know. His hair is gray now and he’s a bit softer around the middle, more gravity in the cheeks. His ample shoulders have taken weight over the years–literal and emotional.

No, you haven’t met him. But you know him. You’d know those eyes anywhere; studied them in an old polaroid on the mantle just over there. Soft but strong. A good person from another lifetime who was scarred deeply by this one. Someone who cut his soul right down to the quick in order to keep others alive. Those eyes may be a bit more haunted now, but they’re still just as keen.

You never stopped to think that you might someday meet them in person.

“Hi. You must be Joel.” _____

It’s the girls at the table that notice your interest. If left unchecked, your eyes wander across and start to examine the gorilla grip on the fork, the protective hunch over the plate, the beard that’s been newly trimmed and hair recently shaped up (by Maria, no doubt), the scars across the knuckles…temple…nose…

The man’s been through hell and back since the polaroid.

Ellie though…is unscathed, unmarred.

Protected.

And observant. She finally smirks the third time she catches you staring.

Maria’s knee bumps yours to reign you in. He’s not a threat, her eyes say.

This isn’t the time to correct her assumptions, so you put all your focus on your plate or whomever is speaking, whatever isn’t Joel Miller.

“Tomorrow’s work is barrier wall on zone two,” Tommy chews both his words and his venison at the same time. “Once we’ve got that fortified, internal barrier can come down and we can incorporate it as a new section, start safely upgrading the housing there. It’s got a school facility. Be nice to restore that for its intended use instead of using the old record store.”

“Sounds good, count me in,” Joel grunts once he’s politely swallowed his mouthful. “Just put a hammer in my hand and point me at a wall.”

“Just like the good days, eh, brother?”

“Sure.”

“I could swing a hammer” Ellie pipes up.

“You can go to school.”

She scowls darkly at Joel. “Your face can go to school.”

“Ellie–”

“Whippoorwill to Meadowlark.” The walkie on your hip crackles to life and you swallow quickly as all forks stop and all eyes swing to you.

“Meadowlark here. I hear you.”

“Wanted to let you know that all three lambs are hale and made it through the night. Mom’s a little restless, but they’re all safe in the enclosure and I’m doing a sit-in.”

“Thanks for the update. Good to know. You’re in the lead.”

“I know, but Chickadee comes in next week and I bet she takes it. Anyway. Thanks for the clothes and the book, I knew I forgot something. I’ll leave you be unless there’s any change.”

“I’m giving the walkie to Chickadee tomorrow, so you’ll have to egg her on.”

“You know I will. Whippoorwill out.”

Once the radio goes silent, there’s a mix of reactions around the table; pleasant surprise from Maria and Tommy, Joel on guard, his eyes flicking between you and the others waiting to know what it all means, and Ellie’s head twisting around, trying to catch up.

“Three?” Maria trills. “You didn’t tell me there were three new lambs!”

“Yeah. Just missed them. Whip got to do the honors–”

“The big one popped! She was a gusher!” Ellie smiles as the table turns to her. “You were talking about sheep pooping out babies?”

“Ellie, manners. People are eating.” Her guardian glares at her before checking in sheepishly with Maria.

“It’s fine,” you make her excuse. “Ellie head us over the walkies yesterday and–”

“So what’s with the code names?”

The girl is practically vibrating out of her chair with curiosity.

This time it’s your turn to be scrutinized by the newcomers; two pairs of brown eyes hungry for answers.

So you explain while you pick at your dinner.

“There’s a wide acreage outside the settlement walls, on the west patrol loop. We have a good herd of sheep out there. Can’t raise ‘em all in town, there’s not enough room or grazing, although if the winter’s bad, we’ll bring ‘em in to some barns over at the old ranch house.

“But there’s four of us shepherds, each one taking a week at a time out there. Doesn’t require much. Sheep do the hard work of eating and sleeping and rearing their lambs. We do the shearing and milking, send back daily gallons with the patrols–that’ll be the cheese on your salad there. But mostly just make sure they’re healthy and taken care of. Scare off wolves and coyotes if they come sniffing.”

“You go out there alone?” She asks, wide-eyed.

“Sure. It’s pretty secure and the patrols check the fences every day. The Roost is added security for us, since it’s elevated.”

“What’s the Roost?”

“Ah, it’s kind of a fancy treehouse?”

“Thanks to me, I’ll add,” Tommy pipes up. “When I got here, it was nothing more than a shack on a platform. This one here had a target on my back until the day she had four stout walls and a pretty little porch. Won her over pretty quick.”

“Stick built?” Joel asks, shoving a fingerling potato in his mouth.

“Yeah. Reinforced. A-frame. Even pulled windows out of a lodge.”

“Smart.”

Ellie obviously has no time for Construction Corner with the Millers. “You don’t get scared?”

There’s something about her eager wonder that grabs your attention, pulls you in tight, makes you want to answer whatever question she’s got. “There’s nothing to be scared of. I mean, not for us anyway. All of us Roostlings grew up around here. We know the sounds of the animals at night, know they’re more scared of us than we are of them. We’ve seen infected out in the wilds, sure, know what to listen for, but we also know how to defend ourselves if the barriers don’t hold…and they always hold.

“But mostly, it’s relaxing. Quiet. Slow. Time to think. There’s nothing better than a night suspended in the treetops, with the sheep below and the moon and the stars above….”

Joel has stopped chewing, a wistfulness showing from underneath his gruff mask. There’s something thrilling about catching his attention.

A goofy smile cracks Ellie’s face and she giggles, reaches out to punch him on the arm. “Did you hear that? Sheep and stars. It’s everything you dreamed of, buddy!”

“I didn’t mean…” he winces at her brute force and shoots a guarded look at you. “I think I’ll leave the sheep to the shepherds. You said you grew up here?”

It’s the first thing he’s really said to you unprompted and now that you have an excuse to look him in the eye, it’s actually hard to do. “Ah, yeah. Family sheep ranch down in…well, down-river. Not far. Maria too.”

“Spent a lot of time at that ranch growing up,” she smiles. “You and your sister were bad influences.”

“Is that why you up and left us for the big city?”

Maria laughs. “Had to get out before I spent my whole life here. Whoops.”

Joel reins the conversation back. “So you haven’t spent any time in the QZs?”

“No. Holed up at the ranch with…with some folks,” you say as Maria looks away. “Then Jackson was starting up and it was safer here, so I brought in my flock.”

“Hmm,” he grunts, reading your expression, catching the slight omission in your speech. Recognizing survivor’s talk.

You hold his gaze for a few seconds, wondering what your answer is worth to him. You’ve heard of the quarantine zones, knew how rough and miserable they could be. Tommy and Maria both had their stories and you count yourself lucky for never having been unfortunate enough to have to scrabble for existence in one of them. Would have languished and suffocated. Wouldn’t have been able to breathe without the big sky, or sleep without the mountains keeping watch…

Does he think you naive? Or that–wrongly–you’ve had it easy? Does your answer tip the scales in his opinion for the worse?

And what about him? Has the QZ made him dangerous? Hard? Dishonest? Tommy always said he was an asshole…

“Can I see it?” Ellie interjects. “The Roost. Can I go out there with you?”

The question is surprising in more ways than one; most noticeably in its boldness and by your shock in a kid getting so excited about sheep. “Uh, yeah, sure. I mean, that’s why there’s a bunk bed. We bring folks out there all the time. But you have to be willing to work while you’re out there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Joel grumbles with a tight jaw, stabbing a potato with his fork.

Maria had explained to you the circumstances of Joel carting the girl across the country. To get her that far unscathed? To get her to the Fireflies… He must not have found them or he would have come back alone. Maybe they were dead.

Not that that would be a bad thing.

The girl is smart. Better off here.

But it seems no amount of time can take the father out of the man and he’s fallen into the role for her pretty hard, his jaw twitching as he balances between politeness and worry.

“It’s completely safe, brother. Walled in. Patrolled. In communication, as you’ve witnessed. And the Roostlings are all pretty skilled with a shotgun. She’ll be fine. Might do her some good.”

“Come on, Joooooooel. It’s sheeeeeeeep. In a treehouuuuuu-suh.”

He takes his time chewing. Keeps his eyes on his plate.

“We’ll see.”

“Well,” you smile, winking at the girl across from you, “I just got off my shift, so you’ve got three weeks to warm up to the idea before I go back.”

“Do I get a codename?” She wiggles in her seat, grinning hard at Joel, goading him.

“Sure. I don’t know. You’re pretty spikey. How about Thistle?”

“What?” This dismays her and gets a choke–and then a chuckle–out of Joel. “Why can’t I have a bird name?”

“Because you’re not a Roostling. You have to earn your wings.”

This sets her jaw in a challenge. “Oh. I’ll earn it. I’ll earn it so hard you don’t even know. Bring it on. Take me to the fluffy bastards.”

“Ellie, dammit!”

_____

“So, he’s, uh….” you hand a dish to Maria so she can dry.

“Less than personable?” She finishes, keeping her voice down so as not to be heard by the brothers chatting on the back porch.

“Got some adjusting to do if he’s gonna fit in here, I was going to say.”

“He makes you nervous though. I can tell.”

“No. Not…like that…I just…” It’s best to avoid her keen eye, but catch her surprise out of the corner of yours. “It’s just–”

“My oldest friend in this god-forsaken world,” she declares, throwing the dishtowel on the counter and settling hands on hips. “You are telling me that? That is the man that is turning your head?”

“No. That’s not…He’s…” a growl of frustration follows, trying to scare your thoughts into cohesive order as you scrub glaze out of a pan. “It doesn’t happen that often, you know? Someone from the past showing up and there’s all this…change. I mean, he’s not really from our history, but you’ve had that picture of him and his daughter sitting out and there’s this face from the past just…looming. Like, there was this man who lived and worked construction and then the worst day happened and his child was killed and the person he was just got…replaced with that guy. It’s…I’m just morbidly fascinated by what twenty years in a post-hell society can do to someone. I mean…that smile in the polaroid…he was so warm and healthy…”

It isn’t until this moment that you realize what Maria begins to surmise. The pan and washcloth are abandoned.

“So you’ve had a crush on a man from the past all this time, making your castles in the sand. And you’re disappointed that he showed up and was that.”

She generously and lovingly gives you the time to think.

“Maybe. I don’t know. He’s still good looking, so you have to give me a little slack there. But I don’t know him. Didn’t know him. It’s just an interesting thing, you know? A little fantasy of the beforetimes? One that didn’t really line up way I imagined it?”

Maria begins to laugh kindly and quietly. Then a little less kindly and a lot less quietly. “Oh shit, that man came here for sanctuary and didn’t know he walked into a full-on trap.”

“Hey!”

“No. No. That’s not fair and I’m sorry,” she concedes, taming her laughter somewhat unsuccessfully. “Just go easy on him, okay? He’s Tommy’s brother.”

“Well, then that’s as good a reason as any for me to stay on my side of the creek bed. And, to be fair, those other guys? They came after me first. I have no interest in men that have no interest in me. So it looks like he’s safe.”

“For now,” she smirks. “But. If Tommy keeps me up at night complaining that you’ve busted a bottle over his brother’s head–”

“That was one time! And that guy was a fucking jerk!”--now you’re both laughing–”Which, I guess, yeah, if Joel’s as much an asshole as Tommy says, then maybe I should play it safe and apologize to y’all in advance!”

Thank goodness you have each other to lean on, or you’d both be rolling on the floor in a cackling mess. _____

It only takes a fistful of days and as many shy nods in passing around town for a knock to come at your door one evening.

“Well…hey there….Mr. Miller. What can I do for you this evening?”

The generated streetlights don’t come all the way down your block, and he blinks in the candlelight coming from your open door, his jaw gaping slightly before sealing shut, blocking any words that want to come.

Stepping back, you let the door open wider for him. “I was just putting a snack together. You wanna come in?”

“No, I..don’t…”

You’ve seen this look before from folks new to Jackson. From folks who’ve had to keep what they have to survive. Folks who lived among others who would never offer up anything for free without the expectation of payback and therefore have forgotten–or perhaps never experienced–the simple joy of receiving hospitality.

“You don’t want to come in? Or you don’t want to eat my cooking? Because I’d be offended by either.”

Walking away from the open door has the desired effect and he finds his way to the front room sofa in view of the kitchen on his own.

It allows you to watch him check off the boxes as you put together a tray. Telltale sign of the long-hauler as he scans the rooms for exits and places where a threat could be hiding. Check. Then the sign of the QZoner as he studies his surroundings, taking in a home that’s lived in but not damaged by twenty years of decay or depression. Check.

That finally leaves him open to be vulnerable, and you watch to see if he’ll allow himself to be at ease.

The way his fingers curl and uncurl on his knees, how he looks away when you catch his eye.

You wonder if he’ll ever really sink in. Having family here will help.

“You drink, Joel Miller?”

“Depends,” he answers vaguely, but nods with certainty.

Your offering is simple, rye crackers on a plate, a disk of sheep’s milk cheese with a knife in it, two tumblers, and a bottle of sunshine.

“You all are sure generous with your whiskey around here,” he comments as you pour him a full glass.

“Not whiskey. Cider.”

He frowns. “Cider? You make this?”

“I’m not that talented,” you wave your hand over the cheese and crackers. “As you can see, this is what I consider cooking. Like most things here, I traded for it. There’s an orchard a ride out. Gone wild. It gets harvested once a year and there’s a cider press in town. Couple of ladies spend a good month canning and bottling.”

“Seems like the women run the show around here,” he says, impressed, taking a sip and then staring hard at the glass. “Holy shit.” You’re not sure at first if that’s a good or bad expression until he goes in for another drink.

“That make you nervous? Ladies brewing up the good stuff?” You only laugh at his impression of a deer in the headlights. “I suppose if you’ve spent enough time around Maria, it’s easy to think that. It’s just a very empowered place for everyone. Everyone’s got something to contribute that gives them some pride and gets them some respect. And I guess, in that way, you don’t have to worry about Ellie here. I can tell she’s gonna find her place and do just fine.”

“That’s actually what I came by for,” he says, distracted by the cider. “You know how long it’s been since I’ve had a drink of something that doesn’t burn?”

“It’s sweet, yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s been a minute since I had anything sweet.”

You let that hang, watch him examine the amber liquid…or, rather, a memory swirling in its depths.

Twenty years of a broken heart can’t be good for a person.

“You came to talk about Ellie?”

It takes him a second to realize you’re addressing him, but he only nods, and finishes the glass. When you pick up the bottle to pour him another, he quietly stops you with a gesture and the tiniest shake of the head. No. “You ever have raiders come by your Roost?”

“We’ve seen raiders in the area. They’ve attacked the town border before. Always small groups. Hungry. They don’t have the numbers or the ammo round these parts.”

“But what about out there in the open?”

Crossing your arms and leaning back in your seat, you let him know he’s being assessed, let it sink in that he might be over-protective and has the right to be scared but doesn’t need to be. Realize he may never grow out of his defensive conditioning.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Joel Miller. There’s always a chance. But I don’t know if there are any words I can say that would magically put you at ease. There’s one thing I can see though, you care a lot about that girl. I reckon you’re here tonight because she’s bugged you about going out there. And you hate disappointing her, so here you are. But you’re also afraid of letting her out of your sight.”

He doesn’t look at you. Just rolls his glass between his wide palms.

Ducking forward, you do your best to get your smile in his eyeline. “Since I can’t convince you with words, I’ll do it with evidence. Ride out there with me tomorrow and see for yourself.”

“I don’t…that’s not what…”

“Hey. Good parents want their kids to be safe. I know the type.” It was meant to put him at ease, but you realize a bit too late that your words were poorly chosen. It’s difficult to read his emotion; there may be a few going on at once. 

Most of them break your heart. 

An apology would only make it worse. “Tomorrow morning. Stables. Dawn.”

________

He doesn’t like to talk much, Joel Miller. Knows his way around a horse like a true Texan should, completely at ease with a shotgun strapped to his back, but doesn’t seem to want to spoil the silence. Or perhaps he’s just always on guard. That’s okay. You like the sounds of the morning. The crunch of the woodland floor, the sweep of the wind in the leaves. The birds have been up for hours already, their voices warmed up and singing clear. It’s still chilly at daybreak this time of year and steam rises from the horses’ noses, mixing with the fog of the dew evaporating in the rising sun.

After a good half-hour ride through dappled forest light at a leisurely pace, you take up the walkie that you’ve borrowed from Chickadee.

“Meadowlark to Whippoorwill.”

Seconds and trees roll by as you wait for your answer. No hurry.

“Whippoorwill here. You taking another shift? You’re a day early.”

“Nope. Just giving a new resident a tour and letting you know we’re coming in at the north passage. Put some clothes on and don’t shoot us.”

“I make no promises.”

“Don’t ever change, Whip.”

As you come to a ravine and dismount, Joel finally pipes up. “Put some clothes on?”

“Yeah,” you explain, leading the horse down the steep incline, “Whip’s a nudist. Don’t ever show up at her house unannounced if you aren’t ready for a lot of skin.” When he doesn’t know what to say, you smile over your shoulder. “Just fucking with you. Although, there is a stream to the south we all like to skinny dip in come summer.” Another baffled look from him, and another sly smile from you.

He’s distracted by this to the point that he actually flinches when the barrier appears before him. “The hell?” he exclaims, examining a hedge of vines growing up over a twelve-foot tall wall of stone. “You don’t even notice this from the top.”

“Nope. That’s the point. Doesn’t look like a wall from up there, just looks like a hedge from down here. Most people don’t want to make the effort to climb down but if they do, they just assume they have to find another way.”

“This is the meadow perimeter?”

“Well, this gate anyway. A lot of it is woven steel gage and cliffs that only goats can manage. Most of it is natural barrier or camouflage like this so you wouldn’t even know there’s anything being protected.”

“Huh. Clever.”

“Welcome to Jackson Meadow, home of the Roost.”

After displacing and replacing some facing shrubs, you’re able to coax the horses through a narrow tunnel and up a gentle rise that eventually opens out into a sweeping field in a valley under the face of the butte.

It’s still early enough that the wildflowers are just slivers of purples and yellows behind their bud casings, but they spread far and wide across the green expanse, broken only by the random white-gray lumps of grazing sheep. The sun is just beginning to break over the surrounding mountains to the east, but once it spills over, it will only make the spring colors of the valley more vivid than any surviving photograph, more picturesque than any oil on canvas…probably. It’s been decades since you’ve seen a landscape painting, so what the hell do you know.

Able to ride side by side now, you make another study of your companion. And there’s a war going on inside him. You can tell he’s taken by the raw beauty of the meadow, but twenty years of looking over his shoulder makes him nervous in wide open spaces and his eyes won’t stop moving between the grasses and the treeline, constantly appreciating, constantly scanning.

“Relax, Mr. Miller. Enjoy the view. You’re in good hands. See that patch of trees up there?” You nod to a wooded area near the center of the expanse. “Roost is in there. I guarantee you Whip has eyes on us and everything in this valley right now.” Raising a hand over your head with three fingers raised, you use the other hand to point to them.

The walkie smacks on and Whippoorwill’s steady drawl comes out. “Three.”

You wave. Smile at Joel. “See?”

He relaxes in the saddle and a quiet, ponderous minute goes by before he works up the bother to ask whatever’s tumbling around in that head of his. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“What.”

“Mr. Miller. I’m no mister. It’s just Joel.”

Things are slow in Jackson, people take their time. As you do with your answer. “Maybe it’s my way of keeping a distance, Joel Miller. You seem like the kind of man that likes people to keep their distance so he can get a good read and make sure it’s safe to approach.”

Twisting with a frown, he scans you as if he’s never really looked before, maybe a little annoyed that you have his number.

You dismount your chestnut mare some distance before reaching the trees, leave the reins to the saddle and let her be, walking over to the nearest duo of sheep–a mother and baby. The ewe bleats at you out of habit, but knows you’re no real harm. She watches her lamb though, chewing when she remembers to.

This lamb is still very young and you’re not sure if it will remember. There’s a bounce to the left, and then two to the right, and then each leg steps carefully as he haltingly makes his way forward. You’re able to scoop him up and turn him over in your arms like a baby, instantly quelling him, and his legs hilariously splay.

“What’d you do to it?” Joel, having followed suit and let his horse graze, walks up and there’s the tiniest smile as he gazes down at the creature in your arms.

“Nothing, that’s just what they do when you turn ‘em over. Here.” You don’t even tell him to put his arms out or ask if he wants to hold the lamb, you simply get close enough and the man’s instincts kick in. All you have to do is hand him off.

Joel’s surprised at first, flinches a bit when the lamb wiggles in his arms–the tiniest protest to being transferred to an unfamiliar nanny. But then both of them calm and you have to stifle a laugh as the two of them just…stare at each other. The lamb in his lamby wonder, and Joel like a new, star-struck dad.

Going about your business, you begin checking the creature’s general health, pushing at the belly, checking the mouth. “This one was born on my last watch, so he’s only about ten days old.”

“Really,” Joel sighs, totally enchanted, not even realizing that he’s instinctually bouncing the lamb a bit. The father in him showing its face again.

“Yep. And,” you indicate the mother, now watching a bit more closely since there’s an unfamiliar human involved, “I birthed that one too. And probably most of her whole line for the last twenty years or more. All of them were as little as this one, and all of them survived. And if the Roost can raise flocks and flocks of dumb little sheep, we can certainly take care of one smart little girl.”

When he scans you this time, it’s clear you’ve given him reasoning that resonates.

He allows you to lift the lamb from his arms, watching thoughtfully as the little thing springs away past its mother and tumbles into some lupines head first. After it recovers and bounces a little more, you bring Joel’s attention to the trees a few hundred meters to the south.

“You can just catch the Roost there, see? The A-frame sticks up above the treetops. And that’ll be Willa at the porch railing.”

He squints. “How do you get up?”

“Retractable ladder. Tommy rigged it for us. You gotta be in it to win it. You’re either up it or fuck it. Ergo, if the ladder’s up, you don’t get in.”

“Huh. How do you get supplies up? Pulley?”

“Yup.”

“Huh.”

It’s a quiet ride back to Jackson, and you do your best not to look over your shoulder to gauge his reaction, like Orpheus leading Euridice out of Hades trying not to lose a tenuous chance for Ellie to spread her wings. It’s not every day a young person wants to learn the shepherding gig. Most of them want to stay in town near their friends, or are too afraid of the world to venture out. Ellie though, she’s been in the world. Observant. Eager to learn. Fearless.

The sheep could use someone like her.

You could too.

It’s when he’s busy unsaddling his horse in the stables that he clears his throat, and you let the curry brush lighter over your horse’s coat so you can hear him think out loud.

“Yeah that works,” he mumbles. “Think it might be good for her.”

Poking your face over your mare’s shoulder and waiting to catch his eye, you release the hounds of smiletown. “You’re right. And probably good for you too, Joel Miller.”

____

“Whoa, coooooool!!!” Ellie says for the fourth time on the ride from Jackson as she spies the Roost through the trees.

Over the past few family dinners, Ellie asked a million questions about this week–how to stay warm, where to bathe, if the sheep bite–anything and everything, even if it was common sense.

And with every answer she’d listen, enrapt, her eyes flicking to Joel now and then. It became obvious to you–although maybe not to the others–that she was asking not so much for her own good, but to calm Joel, signal that she was thinking ahead and covering all the bases, that even if she already knew the answers it might calm him to hear them too.

A little overkill. But the concern they showed for each other while trying not to be sappy about it was endearing you to both of them.

And perhaps Joel was calmed; maybe not so much by the answers you gave, but the way you gave them--calmly, indulgently, and with just a little bit of sass to show you could keep up with Ellie’s tongue and put her in a figurative headlock when she got too cocky. You caught Joel smiling down into his plate a few times. And at you a few more.

He’s got a good smile. It comes out more often now.

A duffel bag lands on the ground at the base of the Roost’s tree and your horses jump a little. Then there’s a cheerful trill from above, “I’ll be right down! Just packing up the wool!”

“No rush, Goldie! We’ll go water the horses while we wait.”

Ellie follows your lead you as you dismount to pull the packs off the horses–bulky with a week’s weight of food, water, and clothes–before climbing back into the saddle and heading off to the south.

“There’s a creek up here flows right down from the Tetons. Purest, cleanest water you’ll ever see.”

“Can you drink it?”

“Absolutely. You, me, the sheep, it’s for all of us. We humans boil it first, of course.”

Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “Seems a waste. I mean, if it’s coming down from the mountains it’s really cold right? We hardly ever had cold water in the QZ. It’s so good when it’s cold.”

“You’ll be singing a different tune when you have to bathe in it.” Her face falls and you can’t help but laugh, hauling yourself out of the saddle and guiding the beast through the pebbled creekbed. “Believe me, come summer, you’ll be plenty happy with how cold it is.”

Once the horses are watered it’s a leisurely stroll back to the Roost, handing the reins over to a tall, veritable Viking of a woman, stong-boned and willowy all at the same time, the long golden braid spilling down her back and curls springing out from the sides of her face giving her the appearance that she’s wearing a lazy albino scorpion on her head. Her blue flannel matches her eyes and clashes with her sunburned cheeks.

“Ellie, this is Goldfinch, our junior Roostling.”

The woman takes Ellie’s small hand in her long, sturdy fingers. “Maybe not so junior if you pull yourself up on board.”

“Goldie started with us about ten years back when she was around your age.”

“Ten years ago?” Ellie asks. “There hasn’t been any new shepherds since then?”

The Rootling shares a concerned look with you before you answer, “Well, there have been, but not all of them stuck.” And you put the question to rest by helping Goldie pack up your horse. “Shit, this is a lot of wool. How many did you do?”

“About twelve?” She answers. “I’m only taking ten worth. Left the rest for you.”

“Damn, you must have been bored. Ellie, can you hand me that duffel? Thanks.”

As Ellie brings the bag to you, she’s also scanning the thatch of forest where the Roost stands. “So she’s taking the horses? She doesn’t have her own?”

“Horses are a sign of civilization,” Goldie offers. “Especially if they’re on a picket line. And we like to keep it not so obvious that we’re out here. We’d have to keep them on picket or they’d just wander off back toward the gate an s hang out there wanting to go home and give away that location.”

“Besides,” you explain, “won’t need ‘em until we go back to Jackson. Safest place to be in the whole pasture is the Roost with the ladder up and a loaded shotgun nearby, not trying to saddle up to ride off. If there’s trouble, we can hold out the time it takes for a posse to come down from town.”

“Is there ever trouble?” Ellie wonders, just slightly concerned.

“Never yet,” you wink.

Finally there’s the ceremonial clink of the walkies, acknowledging that the leaving Roostling is taking hers home and the new occupant has one with a completely restored battery. “Patrol, this is Meadowlark taking over for Goldfinch.”

A few quiet seconds. A pinecone drops nearby.

Then a man’s voice from the speaker. “Meadowlark, this is patrol, we read you. We’ll be hitting east gate around noon today. Anything you need?”

“Nope, we just landed. By ‘we’ I mean me and a learner. New girl, Ellie Williams. Callsign Thistle.”

“Copy. Welcome to the Roost, Thistle.”

Ellie beams, then blinks as you hold the walkie to her face, and you nod her a nod of encouragement.

“Thanks…patrol. Uh…Thistle over and out.”

“Good job, kid,” Goldie says, hoisting a leg over the horse and taking the reins of Ellie’s mare from you. “Have a good week, you two. May your days be filled with storms.”

Once she’s out of earshot, Ellie turns to you. “Storms?”

You strap a pack over each shoulder and start climbing the ladder. “We’re in friendly competition with each other to have the most lambs born on our watch and shear the most sheep. If it rains it can be miserable work at best and impossible at worst and we’re less likely to make good numbers. So it’s an affectionate curse.”

“Oh. Seems cruel to the sheep.”

“What do you mean?”

Shouldering a smaller pack, Ellie starts climbing behind you. “Wishing for storms when they have to be out in it.”

“Eh, they’re happy as clams when it rains. They’ve got wool sweaters already.”

“I’ve never worn a wool sweater.”

Reaching the top, you wait for her to crest so you can see the look on her face when she does. “Then you’re in for a treat. It takes a lot to waterlog wool. Rolls right off. You’ll see. You’ll love it. And that’s not even mentioning the socks!”

“What does happy as a clam mean–” she begins, but stops abruptly as her face comes to the top of the ladder, her mouth opening in awe, rounding in concert with her eyes. “Whoa! Holy shit!!!”

The Roost as a whole isn’t all that large and can be crossed in half a dozen steps. Roughly a seven meter square platform, it holds a one-room cabin with a balcony running along the north and east sides. The windowed, A-frame peak looks out to the north pasture and the roof slopes just out and above the east balcony to shade it in a cascade of knotty pine. Windows wrap all but the west side, the interior wall of which has a simple built-in double cabinet bed with a single bunk running across its head above.

It’s this cabinet bed that draws Ellie inside, and you watch her slowly take in the rest of the cabin, with its rustic table and chairs–Goldie left a couple Indian Painbrush in a mug of water in the sun–the windowed corner with the soft, plush, patchwork pillow chair and a basket full of wool roving, the opposite corner with its woodstove upon a harlequin tilework patch of floor and the spare array of cooking tools on spiraled iron hooks in the knotted wood walls.

The honey dark timber stretches overhead to a peak, from which hangs dried strands of vegetables and herbs, higher up a set of snowshoes, a number of straps and ropes–a butcher’s hook among them, the one arguably ominous tool, meant to make dragging a bloated carcass easier…although it is rarely needed anymore.

Even though the Roost has become your home away from home, the fresh smell off the boards and the dust motes dancing in the sun make you pause and smile every time.

It’s just comfortable enough for two people, a generous hideaway for one, and your favorite place in the whole world. There’d been more than one occasion where you thought about asking Tommy to build you its replica in Jackson, but it would be a shame to ruin its uniqueness…and, of course, there were higher priorities in town.

“Is that where you sleep?” Ellie points at the cabinet bed.

“Yep. Or you, if you want. There’s a bunk. I’ll take whichever you don’t want.”

Bouncing over to the side of the cabinet with the recessed ladder, she climbs, pats the mattress, and frowns. “Why’s it all lumpy?”

“It’s filled with fleece. Same down here. It doesn’t feel lumpy when you sleep on it. Feels like a cloud hugging you. How’s the view up there?”

Ellie pets the bunk mattress another second or two, considering it, before turning out with a smile, “It’s–” but the smile fades when she sees beyond the four meter peak of the cabin and out through the windows for the first time.

Turning to face outward--to see though her eyes–-the sun is breaking fully over the butte, filling the valley like a warm, golden bath, serving up a green to the eye that exists nowhere else in the world. It never gets old and is beautiful from every angle, especially this view from the treetops, birds-eye.

Wordlessly she descends the bunk ladder behind you and wanders out to the balcony, resting her forearms against it, staring out at the vista, and you let her have it while you unpack the bags, situate the supplies, assess the woodpile, toss a set of fresh sheets on each bed.

Once finished with the settle in, you join Ellie where she’s drifted to the other side of the balcony, looking out at the north pasture where the sheep like it best.

After a moment she asks quietly, “What was this place before?”

“This land?” you specify, and she nods. “It was just this. A valley meadow. Native land.”

“It’s hardly touched out here. No broken buildings. No bomb craters.”

“Nope. This place was never really that urban. Even with all those people, some wild places remained. Some were actually sanctioned by the government as untouchable natural places, just to let the animals live and the trees grow. It was for everyone to enjoy.”

“National parks.”

“Yeah, that’s right. This was part of a park like that. But Jackson wasn’t densely populated. Didn’t spread as fast out here. We were low priority. No bombs. So many of us lived on our own land that when the governments came to round any of us up, we’d take up arms and hold our ground. It’s what my sister and I did when they came at our ranch. I think after a while military just left the area thinking if we all got infected it could only spread so far before it just finished off the population and had nowhere left to go.”

“Did it?”

“Oh it came, but it didn’t take everyone. It wandered in later, like everything does out here. Cordyceps are like a fashion. It spread in the urban areas first and made its way out here eons later. But there were fewer people in a lot larger space…and a lot more guns. It was easy to stamp out.”

Ellie’s not like most of the other kids in town who nod at your ancient stories of the olden times. To them, this is the world as it is and how it will be and stories of how it used to be are less than monumental, just a passing curiosity for aimless evenings around a fire. But Ellie’s attention reaches beyond the meadow, beyond the mountains, beyond what she can see. It stretches out in time and tries to divine the past and what might have been; she tries to calculate what exactly was lost and in what ways it’s actually better. A life she could have had versus the one that’s brought her here to this balcony in the morning sun.

A far off bleat becomes a signal for the reverie to break, and you bump your shoulder against hers.

“C’mon. I’ll show you how we do the rounds.”

_____

After a few days, Ellie is doing the morning rounds on her own, reporting in when she notices an ewe in a lay, keeping an eye out for cast sheep–“You see a sheep on its back, do whatever you can to right it, you’ve got about twenty-four hours until they die there of bloat and stupidity,”--and generally letting them all get to know her.

“You’ll need to take your time. Let the lambs come to you or the mammas get emotional about it. Treat ‘em light and gentle for a while. If the ewe sees no need to watch you anymore that means she trusts you and you can pet and pick up the little ones if they let you. But they start cryin’, best to put ‘em down and let ‘em run. Never chase them. You chase them and never let them come to you, they’ll run when you need to get to them most. Take ‘em some apple or carrot and they’ll be your friend forever. Squash and pumpkin are good too. Sometimes I’ll bring out a pocketful of oats. Don’t tell the stablemasters in town; they’d have my ass.”

By mid-week if you couldn’t find Ellie, all you’d need to do was climb up to the Roost and survey the green meadow for the contrast of her red tshirt and you’d spy her sprawled out in the grasses surrounded by a clutch of lambs and ewes. The girl was a sucker for animals.

Shearing went by faster with someone there to hold hooves and legs or just keep the lambs within sight so any ewe under the shear wasn’t kicking to check on her baby. It might have been Ellie’s least favorite part except for the evening time task of carding wool (“Boring”) and drop spinning (“Impossible”).

“Motherfucker,” she whispers, singing a song of hatred at the breaking threads on her spindle, throwing her hands out and taking a dramatic fall backward onto the wool rug she’s sitting on.

“Patience, young grasshopper. It’s not a fast skill; it can take years to learn to spin consistently,” you laugh in the warm glow of the lantern, your spindle wizzing as your yarn pulls at an even gauge, “and all you have out here is time. You’ll get it.”

“Grasshopper? Have I graduated from Thistle?”

“Nope, sorry. Old joke, before your time.”

Abandoning her work and rolling over to her belly, Ellie kicks her stockinged feet lazily in the air and pulls at the fibers in the rug. “There’s only one more day left and there haven’t been any new lambs.”

“Season’s slowing down some. They’ll be fewer and further between.”

“Don’t you wanna win?”

“Win at numbers? Not if it means the health of the sheep. They’ll birth when they birth. Besides, nobody’s beating Willa this year. Those triplets made that a certainty.”

“Whippoorwill’s name is Willa. Chickadee’s name is Addie.”

“Yup.”

“So everyone turned their name into the closest sounding bird except you.”

“Nah. We’re just not real clever with the names is all. Goldie’s name is Pam. We just call her Goldfinch because she’s a blond. Probably wouldn’t even have callsigns but that it makes it easier to hear over the walkie.”

“So what about yours then? Why Meadowlark?”

You smile. “Larks are songbirds. I like to sing when I’m out here. I’ve been caught at it so many times, I don’t even hide it anymore.” You belt a made-up melody loudly out through the open window into the night, “Isn’t tha-a-at ri-ight you wooly ba-a-a-asta-a-a-ards!”

A sleepy sheep calls back in irritation.

“You’re a weird lady.”

“You’re a weird lady.”

Ellie laughs begrudgingly, sits up with a grunt and starts picking at her thread again, squinching her mouth at the lumps. “So if I become a Roostling, I don’t get to pick my own bird?”

“I’m sure we could make an exception. Why? You got one in mind? Because left to us you’d probably be a red-bELLIEd something-or-other.”

“Ha ha. Fine. I don’t know much about birds. Mostly just pigeons in Boston.”

“Well fuck if I’m gonna call you Pigeon.”

The night’s starting to chill down a little and she hugs her knees into her chest, setting her chin on them in thought. It’s about time to close up the window and put a few logs in the stove, but Ellie’s attention wanders up and out among the stars.

You have so many questions. Were all the kids in Boston as stubborn and wild and foul-mouthed as her? Where were her parents? Dead, most likely, but how did she survive them? How did she meet Joel? Did she smuggle run with him? She’s a fair shot with a shotgun, but not practiced. Did he get her here all by himself? That takes a lot of luck and skill. He must care about her a lot to bring her with him all this way, to keep her safe….

“So it was just you and Joel out there for a long time, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“I bet you’re happy to finally have somewhere warm to sleep. Traveling during the winter would have been rough. Good thing it was a milder one this time around.”

She gives a pathetic shrug. “I dunno. I liked it. Just us under the stars. We looked out for each other.”

“Well, you have a lot of folks who will look out for the both of you now. And if you need someone to look after, well, these sheep could really use you.”

Unexpectedly, she laughs, something you’ve said keeps her in the giggles for a while. “One night we were camping and I asked Joel where he wanted to go most in the world and he said he wanted to settle down and farm sheep. This is kind of his dream. But then he said that he wanted to be a musician. Maybe he should be the one out here with you to watch sheep and sing.”

“Maybe. Does he have a tolerable voice? The sheep are picky, as you’ve heard.”

“I don’t know, he wouldn’t sing for me,” she squishes her cheek into her knee, giving you a shit-eating grin and a teasing sing song. “But I bet he’d sing for you if you asked him.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you smile and wink, trying to hide your chagrin under a swirling cape of nonchalance. “I can be very persuasive. But...I don’t think Tess would like that so much.”

“How do you know about Tess?”

“Tommy has his tales. They were quite a little family unit for a while. I’m actually surprised she didn’t show up here with you two.”

This sobers her, turns her attention back out to the stars, halting her response. “She would have…. but she didn’t make it.”

A chilly breeze sweeps through the window, and you’re not quite sure if it’s the drop in the air or your heart that makes you shiver.

Tess didn’t make it. In the world as it is, that means one thing. You wonder what happened. How. If it was horrific–of course it was, you can see it in Ellie’s hardened eyes that it was–and how much it affects her or doesn’t. It’s so difficult to tell with kids these days. In the end though, it hardly matters how. In all the myriad of ways it could have happened, it would have ended the same.

You wonder if Tommy knows.

You suddenly feel ashamed of that selfish little spark of hope it sparks in you.

But while what you know about Joel Miller could fill a book, what you don’t know about him could fill a library.

And you’ve had enough time pass through you to know that a lot of patience and a little observation can go a long way towards preventing disaster.

Thoughts for another time.

“What about you, kid, hmm? What was your answer? In all the world, where would you go?”

But you’d already guessed, seen the longing in her face every night this week and see it now as she looks out the window at the silent silver satellite in the sky.

_____

“Ow, dammit! Just keep a good hold on her back legs so she stops kicking me!”

The lamb is breach and you’re halfway up to your elbow in sheep, trying to push at the little one’s one back haunch to clear the way for the other leg. Ellie, wide-eyed and trembling with excitement keeps letting the ewe’s leg slip and you’d be laughing if the hooves didn’t pack such a punch.

You must have seen a thousand sheep born and assisted in a high percentage of those in your lifetime, but this one manages to give you a new rush. It’s the morning you’ll be heading back to Jackson and you were afraid you’d go all week without Ellie getting to experience a birth. Here it is, and she’s just as thrilled as you’d hoped and all you have to do is make sure both the lamb and the ewe make it through.

It doesn’t take much–a little push, a little twist, a little pull, a little gasp from Ellie–you’re able to get both back hooves in your hand and the little one comes sliding out in a gloopy mess onto the grass. Your favorite flannel is caked with blood and you’ll have to go straight to the launders with it on arrival back in town…

…but it’s all worth it when the baby bleats the tiniest baa and Ellie giggles and clutches her cheeks.

“Holy shit! That was awesome! It’s so tiny! Can I name it? Like Snowball or something?”

The footfalls making their way through the meadow proceed Willa’s answer, “You don’t have to do that. The earth and the sky and the wind will name her themselves.”

Leaning back to acknowledge not only your friend and her arrival, but also a broad form following her clad in denim and gristle.

“Brought you a friend,” Willa smirks for the girl’s benefit, tilting her head in Joel’s direction.

“Joel!!! Look!!!” Ellie’s grin is so full she can’t even close her jaw, gaping like a kid who just saw her first Christmas tree.

Another tiny bleat escapes the lamb as its mother begins to lick it clean and Joel’s eyes nearly disappear behind cheeks and crinkles. “Hey there, babygirl. You have a good time?”

“Fuck YES.”

Willa extends a hand to help Ellie up and Joel does the same for you, taking care to keep your dripping forearm at a good distance.

“She did real good out here; you’d be proud,” you praise the girl, squelching her grin with a big, wet, slap on the back. “I’d love to have her again.”

“Aw, maaaaaaan!” Ellie reels in disgust as you dig your palm into her shoulder, really getting the juices in there.

“You just earned your keep, kid.”

This snaps her head around. “Really? Do I get a bird name now?”

“Yup. And I think I know what’ll suit you just fine.” In a short second of mountain time, the wind picks up just a little, lifting the brown curls around her face and the sun comes up behind her over the bluff, kissing her pink cheeks as you lean down and look her straight in the eye.

“Welcome to the Roostlings, Starling.”

____

You let them ride ahead of you, allow the father-daughter team to catch each other up on the week’s news, watch adoringly as Ellie chatters on about the lambs and how they tumble and bounce and how cold the water is and how the Roost creaks and sways a bit when it’s windy, which sheep were her favorite and how much she hates spinning wool.

Next time you’ll have to teach her how to knit, you think. She’ll probably take to that a little better.

And when he’s not giving her his glowing attention, Joel’s only report is that he started work in the new section of town, nothing exciting except the house was blessedly quiet for a whole week thank god.

She still has stories to tell Maria and Tommy at family dinner, repeating again some of the highlights you overheard her tell Joel, and new ones she just remembered. Your friends smile and listen, bewitched, time enough to give her an ear and delighted with the novelty of an excited young person at their table.

“Looks like you have yourself a new recruit,” Maria laughs. “What did you settle on for a callsign?”

Ellie tips her head back, answering through a mouthful of potatoes, “Starling!” and slaps a hand over her mouth when a chunk goes flying.

“Ellie, dammit, talk OR chew, not AND.”

Maria ignores Joel’s curse at her dinner table to ask you, “What prompted that?”

You chew and swallow, pointedly showing off the patience that the girl couldn’t muster, a blatant tease. “Seemed a good choice. Kid’s a sucker for the stars.” You match Ellie’s smile before you sweetly add, “And, y’know. Because starlings are loud and annoying as hell.”

That earns you a bird of another kind.

_____

Tommy cuts a good silhouette against the coming twilight as he lines himself up to the peg and explains for his adopted niece how to score a ringer in an after-dinner game of horseshoes. He demonstrates the looseness of the grip, the swing of the iron, and Ellie soaks it up like a sponge, eager to learn.

He’s a good teacher. He taught Maria…who is currently beating his ass. But Maria is good at whatever she does regardless, always has been.

You concluded long ago that it’s not your game. Branded it a Texas thing and took up your spot on the back porch swing with a bottle of cider, kicking off your boots and putting your woolen-socked feet up on the railing to enjoy the setting sun reflecting off the mountain face.

There’s a cheer as Ellie tosses and the shoe lands with a loud clang.

The porch door opens when Joel returns with a bottle for himself. But instead of rejoining the game, he wanders over to sit next to you on the swing, upsetting it enough to pull your feet from their perch.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Pull up a seat, Joel Miller.”

Several lazy minutes pass, a sweet, comfortable silence filled with the occasional sip from a bottle and an exchanged smile as you push at the porch a little, encouraging the swing to do its thing. And he lets his knees go soft, keeps his feet on the ground but aids in a little gentle rocking.

“Thank you,” he says, finally, tipping his head toward his ward as she scores yet again, “for taking her out there. She hasn’t shut up about it since.”

“Yeah? What’d she have to say?”

“Went on about the lambs, complained about how cold the water was. Said she was tired because she liked getting up early in the morning to see the sunrise but liked being in the trees at night and wanted to stay up to listen to the night birds. Said you liked to sing when you work and the fact that she didn’t complain about it–and from what I heard the night we met you–makes me think you’re not too bad at it. Not too fond of your cooking, though.”

That earns a snort from you. “Well I don’t blame her there; I warned y’all. I wouldn’t say she’s the most obedient kid, but she sure is smart, and really capable and brave. That girl eats the world with the spoon she’s so hungry to know all the things all the time. And strong–she swings an axe better than me. Got a mouth on her–”

“Sorry about that–”

“--and is beautifully, brutally honest, and pretty fucking hilarious. She’s really special.”

“Yeah. Yeah she is.” Something like pride melts his shoulders as he watches Ellie joke around with Tommy, and then slowly evolves into gratitude as he turns to you, to someone who can see her like he does. “Funny, that’s what she said about you.”

There’s a pull to share in that pride and gratitude, to lean in and let yourself bask in the glow of the compliment.

But a wall goes up when you reveal, as kindly as you can, “She told me Tess didn’t make it.” As his eyes grow stony and deny you the pleasure of their focus, you chase after his attention by turning your body toward him on the swing, bringing a knee up and placing a hand on his forearm, gently urging him to stay here with you. “Hey. She didn’t tell me what happened and I don’t need to know and you don’t have to talk about it. But I do need to ask you one thing. That man out there might be your brother, but he’s my friend. And Tess might have been your lady, but she was still family to him. She was important to him. And he’s important to me. And I need to ask you if he knows.”

The arm under your finger tenses as his fingers grip the cider bottle and you move to let go–to let him know you’re not forcing him–but a hand claps down over yours. It’s now his turn to urge you to stay, to give him a minute, to let him bust through whatever is starting to well up in him so he can swallow and tell you, “He knows.” Another quiet minute as he stares out at his family on the back lawn, his jaw working to bring the air in and keep the tension out. “He knows. Thank you…thank you for… taking care of him too.”

His fingers flutter a little, scarred knuckles contracting and loosening like he’s fighting the instinctual urge to hang onto something. So you set your bottle on the porch railing and gently lift his away too, slip out of this awkward hold and instead shift his hand between both of yours, giving it warmth, giving it permission to hold onto you like it wants to.

“They’re my family, which means you are now too. As long as you plan to leave off your wandering and let us keep you safe and cared for, that’s thanks enough, Joel Miller.”

“Quit that,” he grumbles, clasping your hand in case you interpret his words as an ask for release, needing a stolen moment of secret comfort in the deepening twilight. “Joel’s enough. You sound like my mother.”

“Okay,” you compromise, trying to tame your eager heart, silently explain to it that there’s nothing here but the time to do things right. “Okay, Joel.” You smile. “Joel Joel Cinnamon Roll.”

“Shit,” he cringes, shakes his head slowly, stifling a laugh. “Now you really sound like my mother. That’s what she used to call me, how did you-- Tommy.”

“Yup.”

“I hate you both.”

“No you don’t.”

Ellie scores another ringer and Joel smiles. “No, I don’t.”

________

NEXT: SUMMER

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

[jessybarnes]

Patience

Title: Patience

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only! Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2,934

Tags: SMUT, angst, fluff, cockwarming, submissive Bucky, handcuffs, drinking, flirting, pet names, maybe slight degradation if you squint, slight dom/sub, masturbation, fingering (female receiving), clit play, permission to cum, edging, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, begging, crying, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and I think that's it.

Written For: @buckybarnesbingo, @sebastianstanbingo, and @anyfandomangstbingo

Square(s) Filled: Y1 - Kink: Cockwarming for Bucky Barnes Bingo // G5 - Submissive!Bucky Barnes for Sebastian Stan Bingo // G2 - Handcuffs for Any Fandom Angst Bingo

Dedicated To: @buckyalpine - I love you, bby ❤️ I really hope you like this 🥺 It's a thank you for all of the amazing content you've put out for us.

Beta(s): Just Grammarly

A/N: I'm so sorry this is bad... I've been so busy these last couple of weeks with Thanksgiving and yesterday was my stepdaughter's birthday and today is my daughter's so I've had basically no time to write. I really hope this isn't terrible, but I'm so sorry if it is. Also, have I already used the below GIF before for one of my fics? Yes. Am I using it again? Yes. Will I probably use it for a future fic? Also, yes. 🤷🏽‍♀️

You sip your drink as you watch Bucky from the bar. Currently, he's smiling at something Steve said, his flesh hand patting the blonde super soldier on the back while his metal one holds his glass of Asgardian mead.

You're not one for parties, but you know it means a lot to Bucky that you're here with him. He's finally rid of the Winter Soldier, the assassin side of him that he's battled to overcome for years, and in true Stark fashion, he threw your boyfriend a party.

It feels like everyone Tony has ever talked to is here, and crowds make you anxious, so the bar is where you'll be until Bucky's ready to go.

Natasha refills your glass and smiles at you warmly, "he's come a long way."

You swirl the amber liquid around a bit before taking a healthy drink.

"He has. I'm so grateful to Wakanda and the Dora Milaje for helping him. It took a while, but we're finally here."

She nods and pours herself a shot, "it's been a long time coming."

"Speaking of coming, I feel like everyone and their mother came to this thing. I don't even know half the people here..."

Nat snorts, "it's Tony, what did you expect?"

"Touché."

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you and you feel yourself starting to unwind.

Finally.

You finish your second drink and motion for Natasha to refill it again. She sets the bottle down and glances over your shoulder shaking her head.

"Looks like one of the secretaries has taken a liking to Barnes."

Well, so much for being able to relax.

You turn in your seat and watch as a pretty blonde touches his arm softly, batting her eyes at him like a giddy schoolgirl.

Bucky doesn't reciprocate, but he doesn't shoo her away either. He looks up at you momentarily and bites his lip before smiling at the girl in front of him. You know he's not really interested in her. He'd never cheat on you. It still doesn't change the fact that he's deliberately flirting with her in front of you though.

Your fingernail taps on the side of your glass as you grow more and more irritated. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and trails her index finger down the front of his shirt.

You grip the glass so hard that your knuckles turn white.

"I'll pay you later, Natasha," you down the rest of your whiskey and slam the glass down on the bar top. "Right now I've got something to take care of."

You push through the crowd and tap the blonde on her shoulder. She whips around and gives you a pointed look, "can I help you?"

"Yeah," you raise an eyebrow, "you can help me by stopping yourself from eye fucking my boyfriend."

Her eyes go wide as she looks from you to Bucky. He shrugs and she huffs before walking away.

You glare up at him and he takes your hand, "oh, come on doll. I was just teasing you."

"Don't doll me, James. You know I don't like seeing you giving someone else that kind of attention."

His free hand wraps around your waist and pulls you into him, "come on, baby. Don't be like that."

Steve chuckles, "I don't know, man. That girl was looking at you like you put the stars in the sky, and it's not like you pushed her away when she touched your chest."

"Who's side are you on, pal?" Bucky narrows his eyes at his best friend.

You've had enough. This party, that girl, Bucky's attitude, all of it, and it stirs a possessiveness inside of you that you haven't felt in a long time.

"It's time to go."

Bucky's eyes go wide, "go? But the party just star-"

"I said it's time to go."

Steve whistles as you drag Bucky toward the elevators, "good luck!"

Once you get him back to your shared bedroom, you shut and flick the lock.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., please tell anyone who comes to our door that we aren't taking visitors."

"Yes, Miss Y/L/N."

Bucky leans against the wall and looks down at you softly, "I swear I didn't mean to upset-"

"Well, you did. Take your clothes off and lay on the bed."

"Y/N, please just let me properly apologize to you."

Your hands move to your hips and you give him a stern look. To anyone who isn't familiar with your relationship, it would be quite comical seeing your tall, muscular, super-soldier boyfriend being so submissive to you. You know he needs this though, to be able to let go and give himself completely to someone he knows won't hurt him. And who are you to deny him that? Especially since you love the rush of taking control sometimes.

"Don't make me ask you again, James."

Bucky bites his lip as he stands up straight. He pulls the red henley he's wearing over his head, and you watch the movement of his well-defined muscles with hooded eyes. He undoes the button on his jeans and slides them and his boxers down to his ankles before stepping out of them.

"I really am sorry, baby"

"I know you are." You gesture behind him, "I've changed my mind. Sit with your back against the headboard."

He turns to walk over to the bed and you groan at the unimpeded view of his ass. Fucking hell, he's perfect.

He settles on the comforter and looks at you with curious, blue eyes. You don't say anything to him as you walk into the closet. Moments later you return with two pairs of silver handcuffs dangling from your fingertips and you watch his cock twitch in interest.

"Y/N, I don't see how this is a punishment," he drawls.

You smirk and cuff each of his hands to the small metal hoops that jut out from the side of the headboard. These were no ordinary handcuffs either, they were made with raw vibrainium which means he can't get out of them easily.

"Trust me," you step back and reach behind you to pull the zipper on the back of your dress, "you'll see."

Bucky watches as the little black dress falls to the floor and pools around your feet, his eyes darkening with want.

"God, you're so damn gorgeous, baby."

You smirk, "and it's too bad you won't get to touch me." You smooth your hands over your soft skin, your fingertips barely catching your nipples making you gasp. "I was really looking forward to those big, strong hands all over me, Buck."

He groans and watches you take off your bra and panties, "come on, pretty girl. Please let me touch you...please?"

You climb on the bed and straddle his chest, his cock beginning to leak in anticipation of your touch. You ignore the urge to and slide two of your fingers between your soaked folds instead.

"Mmm, you should have thought of that before ... fuck ... before you flirted with that secretary.

He watches you circle your clit slowly, his eyes nearly black now as he tugs harder at the cuffs.

"Baby... fuck, baby please!"

"Shit, I'm so wet for you, Bucky...feels so good..."

You bring your glistening fingers to your lips and close your mouth around them, licking them clean of your arousal. Bucky whines and raises his hips in frustration.

"Let me have a taste, please baby? Please! I'm so sorry for even looking at her... God, please...need you so bad..."

You tilt your head to the side and look down at him. His eyes are desperate and you almost give in and undo the handcuffs.

Almost.

"Aww, do you need a taste? Do you want me to sit on your face, baby boy?"

Your tone is teetering the line of sincere and condescending, and it makes another bead of precum spill from the head of his cock. Your words alone are making him fall apart. You've never been this dominant with him and he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it.

"...please."

It's merely a whisper, but you hear him nonetheless and decide to take a little mercy on him.

"Lay on your back for me, baby."

Bucky scoots down, his arms suspended slightly upward and out to the side as he lays flat. You move so your legs are on either side of his head and hover your dripping pussy over his lips.

"Since you love using that pretty mouth to tease and flirt so much, why don't you put it to good use and make me cum. Maybe if you do a good job I'll let you fuck me."

Bucky licks his lips, "I'll make you feel real good, doll. Please... just please let me taste you..."

You lower yourself down to his mouth and he immediately begins ravishing you. His tongue skillfully slides between your folds, alternating from your hole to your clit making you moan.

He's always been so good at this. Taking you apart over and over again until you're a shaking, quivering mess. But this? The way he's delving his tongue into your dripping cunt, devouring you as if he needs you to survive, it's another side of him you've never seen before and it's one of the hottest things you've ever experienced with him.

"Fuck... yeah, baby just like that."

Bucky groans and moves back to your clit, sucking it and flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His untouched cock is leaking profusely now. He's determined, desperate to feel you cum, desperate to make you fall over the edge and taste you.

It isn't long until the familiar coil begins to ignite and your legs start to shake from the amount of pleasure your boyfriend is bringing you. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling it as your hips rock against his mouth.

"Oh, Bucky! Don't stop, baby! Don't you fucking stop... oh, my god...fuck, you're gonna make me cum!"

He moves his tongue faster, tugging at the cuffs and wishing he could grip your luscious thighs.

Your eyes flutter closed and you throw your head back as your orgasm shoots through you like a bolt of lightning. Bucky doesn't stop, and you let him work you through your high until it becomes too much. Finally, you climb off of him and lay on the bed at his side, moving your fingertips up and down his thigh slowly while he breathes heavily.

"Did such a good job for me, baby. You made me cum so hard."

Bucky turns to look at you, "does that mean I can fuck you now?"

You bite your lip and just barely graze his thick shaft.

"Oh, sweetheart, you didn't think it would be this easy, did you? You thought giving me one orgasm would warrant forgiveness for deliberately flirting with someone else in front of me?"

Bucky gasps and whines from your touch, his cock twitching in need.

"Doll, p-please...," his eyes shine with tears and his fists clench and unclench, "I'll never do it again, I promise! Please I...I need you so bad...so bad, baby..."

You kiss his lips and shush him, before carefully straddling his hips. His eyes are wide and needy as he looks up at you, and your heart thuds hard against your ribcage. He's so fucking beautiful like this. All spread out for you. Needy and begging for your touch.

Bucky is so good at being in control when you need him to, but at times like this, he's the prettiest submissive you've ever seen.

"Sit back up for me, honey. I'm going to give you a reward, okay?"

He nods and scoots back up so his back is against the headboard again. He watches as you rise on your knees and reach behind you. His eyes roll back into his head as you wrap your fingers around his cock, and you immediately pull them away.

"Ah, ah, ah...keep those eyes on me, baby."

Bucky nods and you curl your fingers around him again before lining him up with your entrance. You're so wet that you don't even need him to prep you.

Ever so slowly, you sink down on his thick, hard cock. Bucky's so worked up that you can feel him throbbing as you take him to the hilt.

"You're so fucking big, baby. Mmm, you fill me up so well. Does this feel good, sweetheart?"

He shudders and resists the urge to raise his hips so he'll go deeper, "so good...feels so good."

"Is this what you wanted, honey?"

Bucky swallows thickly and lets out a shaky breath.

"Wanna...wanna feel you ride me. Please...please just wanna cum for you."

You cradle his face in your hand and brush the pad of your thumb over his stubble, "only good boys get what they ask for, baby. Besides, I love feeling you just like this. So deep inside me, the head of your pretty cock kissing my cervix, you make me feel so full."

Bucky whimpers and you lean forward to kiss him again, your mouth moving against his slow and sweet.

He kisses you fiercely and you reciprocate with just as much fervor. Bucky could stay like this forever, just drowning in the way you feel around him, in your touch, and your taste.

You pull away and smooth your thumb over his bottom lip, "if I uncuff one of your hands, are you going to be good for me?"

The thought of being able to touch you makes his eyes fill with tears as he nods enthusiastically.

"If you can be a good boy for me I'll ride you, baby."

You reach for the handcuff keys on the bedside table and uncuff his metal hand.

"Rub my clit, baby boy. Make me cum around your cock."

Bucky reaches down to where the two of you are joined and touches the cool metal of his thumb to your bundle of nerves. You gasp at the contrast of temperatures as he begins making tight circles.

"Fuck, Bucky..."

You rock your hips slightly back and forth, cupping your breasts as hot sparks of arousal shoot through you. A low rumble sounds in Bucky’s chest when he feels you clench around his cock, and he has to force himself not to cum.

"God, baby...can feel you squeezing me. Wanna watch you come undone with my cock buried inside of you. Please, princess? Please come for me..."

The way he's begging for you, the feeling of the smooth metal of his gold and black thumb moving over your clit, and how fucking good it feels to have his thick cock stretch you open sends you falling over the edge for a second time. His name tumbles past your lips over and over and spots dance in your vision as you cum hard for him.

You're both panting when you finally open your eyes again. Bucky's shaking, his eyes are still wide and shining as he silently begs for release and you finally, finally give in to him and plant your palms on his chest.

"You've been such a good boy for me, honey. I'm gonna ride this beautiful cock and I want you to tell me how good it feels, but you can't close your eyes. I want you to look at me when you cum."

You know he's not going to last long. Not when you've worked him up this much, so you don't bother starting slow. You move up and down at a steady pace, listening to his needy, desperate moans.

His metal hand grips your hip and helps to guide you as you start to go faster, and you can feel how close he is, his cock throbbing inside of you as his lips part in a silent scream.

"Oh, my god, babydoll... feels so good... m'so close! Gonna cum so hard for you, pretty girl. Please! Please am I allowed to cum? Can't hold it anymore...s'too much...feels too good... please ... please!"

You brush away his tears and lean down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

"Fill me up, baby boy. Come on, let go for me. Show me, sweetheart."

Bucky slams you down on his cock and holds you in place as he groans loudly into your neck. His orgasm crashing into him like a tsunami as he nearly sobs in ecstasy.

You pepper kisses all over his face and shush him as he shakes in your arms, sweet nothings falling from your lips as he comes down from his high. Eventually, you move to get up, but he whines and pulls you closer to him.

"I need to uncuff your other hand, honey."

"But I wanna stay inside you...please? Just wanna feel close to you."

Your eyes soften and you free his flesh hand, rubbing his wrist gently.

"We can stay like this as long as you need to, Buck. I'm not going anywhere."

He moves so you're both on your sides and slides his softening cock back inside of you gently. He sighs happily and buries his face in your neck.

"Love you, princess... love you so much," he whispers sleepily.

You kiss his forehead and rub his back tenderly, "I love you too, baby. Close those pretty eyes and sleep for me, okay? I'll be here when you wake up."

It isn't long until you feel his breathing even out, and you continue to hold him close as sleep begins to take you too.

You're happy and safe inside the embrace of the love of your life.

You're home.

Tagging: @buckyalpine @madashatters18 @sarahrogersevans @chrisevansdaughter @nerdygingermoose88 @brandyywar

[bad268]

Hii I was the one who requested the kimi x figure skater reader and I loved it so much! Thanks for writing it. If it's okay I'd like to request another kimi fic, I have a few ideas but just pick smth if you want haha I'm not picky.

1. Set in the same universe as the first figure skater one, except this time it's reader trying to teach kimi to skate

2. Same as 1. Except its kimi and reader going karting (or just a general reader haha doesn't have to be figure skater)

3. Literally anything where kimi is comforting a reader with bad period cramps (in person, over the phone idc tbh haha)

Thanks so much in advance, I'd really love to read more of kimi since there's so little on him :) (specifically by you cos I love your writing style)

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Figure Skater! Reader)

Go for the Gold Universe

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I literally love you <3 this is 1 and 2, 3 will be out June 29 <3)

Warnings: Aged up Kimi

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1433

Summary: Kimi and the reader teach each other their strengths.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Being back on the ice was a little bit of a change. It felt like you were relearning to skate all over again. You weren’t attempting any turns or jumps yet. You were simply getting used to being back on the ice. Your physical therapist thought it would be a good idea to strengthen your legs again by putting a brace on you and sending you off. Kimi was there too just in case you fell or something happened. 

You were just lacing up your skates when your trainer came over to help with the knee brace.

“We’re just gonna skate around,” They said as they tightened the straps around your legs. “Absolutely no jumps. Just focus on going straight and alternating pressure on both legs. Maybe at the end, I’ll let you do a camel spin on your non-injured leg.”

“Are you gonna be on the ice with me?” You asked, bending your knee and testing it out as you stood up. You made it to the opening of the rink before staying at the wall and looking back at your trainer. 

“No, but I think you’ll like who’s going out with you more,” They responded as they grabbed their iPad and stood at the wall. You looked at them confused before you saw Kimi sitting on the bench. Your face lit up as you ran as fast as you could back over to the bench.

“You’re going out with me?” You asked excitedly as you grabbed his hand away from his skates. “I didn’t even know you could skate!”

“I can’t,” He said simply as he struggled to tie the skates again. “You’ll teach me right?”

“Of course I will,” You replied as you took over lacing his skates. He had made them too loose, so you relaced them. He did not need to get injured. Not on your watch.

“Good, I know how much you love your jumps and fancy moves, so we thought distracting you with teaching me would make you focus on something else,” Kimi explained while you finished off the laces.

“You’re geniuses,” You laughed as you helped him stand up, making sure to grip his forearms when he started wobbling. “Come on, one step at a time.”

“I thought it was bad to walk on the blades,” Kimi said off-handily as he walked with you to the opening for the rink. 

“No, it’s not good to walk on them. It’ll dull the blades,” You explained as you stepped onto the ice. You leaned down to pull off the skate guards as you stepped each foot onto the ice. You left Kimi to lean against the wall as you showed him your guards. “These protect the blades. They make it so we can walk to and from the bench without dulling the blades, and they make for safe storage. You would hate to reach into your bag and slice your hand because your blades were out in the open.”

“You make a good point,” He chuckled as he pulled his guards off and followed you onto the ice, almost falling immediately. “I was not expecting it to be so slippery.”

“It’s ice, what did you expect?” You chuckled as you tightened your hold on him, moving your hands from his forearms to around his waist. “Just lock your ankles and we’ll take baby steps.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Kimi sighed with an eye roll. “I deserve to be compensated for my pain.”

“How about this,” You started as you began skating backward, pulling him along with you, “I teach you to skate, and you can teach me to drive, race car or street car. It’ll be fun and bring us closer.”

“I’m not planning to throw you in my Prema car,” Kimi pressed as he eyed you wearily as you came up to the edge of the rink and started to turn them. “But if you make me fall, I won’t hesitate to take you on a hot lap!”

“Maybe if your legs stopped shaking, we’d be fine,” You teased as you slowed down for the turn. No matter how much you slowed, Kimi wobbled and started frantically trying to stay upright. You, just as frantically, tried to grab his arms to help him stay upright. “If you keep doing that, you’re gonna-”

You knew this was going to happen. Just as you grab onto Kimi’s forearms enough to help stabilize him, he falls backward, flat on the ice with a smack. You didn’t know whether to laugh or ask if he was okay, but as soon as you met his eye, you burt out laughing. 

“Just for that, you’re driving my Prema car,” He scowled with no real heat behind it.

“Okay,” You chuckled lightly as you met his eyes again, “If I crash your car, oh well, right?”

“I clearly did not think this through,” Kimi mumbled to himself before switching his attention back to you. “Wait, are you okay? Is your knee okay? I didn’t mean to pull you down with me! I swear-”

“Kimi,” You interrupted gently as you kissed his cheek, “I’m fine. It’s a little fall, and it’s not like we did anything to strain my leg.” You gently pushed yourself back up, helping Kimi stand up as well. “How about we take a break? Hot chocolate sounds good to me.”

A couple of months later, you’re physical therapy for your knee was completed, and you were cleared to go karting. It took a little bit of convincing your coach, but eventually, you and Kimi convinced them. It was only fair since they made Kimi get on the ice with you. 

“Can you help me?” You asked, struggling to fasten the helmet straps. Kimi let you use one of his older helmets since this was your first time, and to be honest, he thought it was cute. It was similar to how some people feel when they see their significant others in their clothes, but this was Kimi’s personalized helmet. It was more meaningful. 

He chuckled as he walked up to you, and quickly fasted the helmet tightly to your head. He double and triple-checked to make sure it fit you right. Safety was his number one priority. He gently tapped the top of the helmet before opening the visor for you.

“You know the basics, right?” Kimi asked as he led you over to the karts. They were pretty simple ones, just to get you comfortable with driving before throwing you off the deep end.

“Right pedal, gas, left is the brakes, and left left is the clutch,” You sighed with an eye roll and a smirk as you sat down in the kart. 

“Good enough,” He chuckled as he leaned down to be at eye level with you. “I’ll be right behind you. If you feel scared or you want to stop, we can switch to a double-seater, and go from there. I’ll be the only other one on track with you, and trust me, you’ll hear me before you see me.”

“That’s just because the karts are loud,” You chuckled lightly as you test out turning the wheel. “Is it supposed to be this tight?”

“Yes, there’s no power steering in karts. These are just basic chassis,” Kimi explained. “It’s a lot easier when your wheels are moving.”

“Okay, anything else I should know before we go out?” You asked, masking your fear.

“If you crash, which I don't think you will, but if you do, brace for it and take your hands off the wheel. I have a feeling you’re not planning on going fast enough to hit a wall, but if it happens, take your hands off first and put your hands here,” Kimi explained before pausing to grab your hands and cross them against your chest, putting your hands on their opposing shoulders. “This will brace you the best in these kinds of karts. Are you ready?”

“Ready to beat your ass? Absolutely,” You said with a cocky smile. You knew what you were getting into, but you also knew that you needed to be a little (a lot) confident in yourself to do good. Especially when you’re racing against a Formula 1 driver. 

“YOu think you’re gonna beat me?” Kimi chuckled lowly as he got into his own kart beside you.

“Oh please,” You dismissed, “Anything you can do, I can do better.”

“No, you can’t.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Okay, we’ll see about that,” Kimi challenged as you both pulled your karts forward as the stewards said so. “May the best driver win.”

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[chibsandchill]

A blood red setting sun

Fandom: HOTD (House of the Dragon) 

Pairing: Aemond x GN!Dragonrider!Reader (reader’s house is not specified)

Warnings: Death, toxic relationships, Aemond needs therapy (like a lot), sui§ide, Dark!Unhinged!Aemond, bad language, blood and gore (described), unreliable narrator (Aemond), grammatical and spelling errors. This is a dark fic

Summary: Rhaenyra changed her mind and sent you instead of Daemon to guard Harrenhall, and a battle between you and Aemond one-eye ensues far above the Gods Eye. Inspired by Love crime by Siouxsie and the Hannigram cliff scene. 

Masterlist

:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:

Alys clung to his back, her breath warm on the side of his neck. It made his skin crawl, 

he loved it. 

That feeling of wrong that washed over him every time they touched. The disgust that sprung down his spine when he joined himself with her. How his breath caught in his throat when she kissed him, when she pressed herself against him, 

the instinct to flee. 

It was familiar, 

unlike with you, 

when everything felt right. 

Aemond shifted forward in the saddle once he spotted the charred ruins. Alys moved closer, her rounded belly pressing against him to the point of discomfort. Disgust rolled in his stomach at the thought that she carried his bastard. He tugged her closer still, chasing the feeling, and yet, despite his efforts it ebbed away, just like it always did. He chased and chased like a dog with a bone, 

but even that would abandon him. 

Aemond scoffed and pushed her arm away. He would push her away, off his dragon were it not for the fact that he was addicted to her. She was a witch, 

his Alys. 

His. 

It rushed through him again, the loathing. It set his nerves on fire, his chest aching and heart screaming in protest, 

oh how he loved it. 

“There, my Prince.” Alys whispered in his ear. It made his skin crawl. Oh, how he loathed her touch. 

But true indeed, there you were. Waiting for him by the ruins and the great old tree. Your dragon stared them down when he ordered Vhagar to land. No respect, no… fear, either of you, he thought, for both dragon and rider neither flinched nor moved away when he landed his Queen of Dragons recklessly close. 

“Kinslayer!” You named him. “You came at last.”

He helped Alys down from Vhagar. Her touch chased away the delight he felt at hearing your voice again. “I hear you’ve been seeking us.” 

“Only you.” 

“Hm.” A smirk grew on his face. “I rarely leave my Lady’s side.”

You frown at the sight of the witch’s belly. “Clearly. I see Aegon’s lesson stuck after all. Tell me, Lady,” you turned to Alys, “did he cry as he spilled himself inside you?”

Your fire excited him. He found he didn’t even mind that it was his past you used to tear at the frayed edges of his wounded heart. It was you he had cried to that day Aegon had taken him to the brothel. He had cried as the old whore forced him to his peak, 

a whore who looked like Alys. 

Perhaps that’s why he chose her. So he can relive it time and time again. So that when he dreams he can hide in your arms again, where you press him to you to the point of pain. It grounded him, 

unlike now, 

Aemond felt untethered, like a kite who’s string had been cut and was left to waste away in the wind. 

His witch stood tall. Perhaps a bit too tall. Rigid. “Hardly.”

“Ah,” you lean back against the tree, “you’re upset about the gift I left you, witch.”

Alys tensed and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Aemond wanted to look at your hands but he refused to tear his eye from yours. Were they bloodied with Alys’ bastards? Or had you scrubbed and scrubbed until your hands bled. Were your arms marred with tiny scratches as they fought back? 

How did it taste? 

How did it feel to have your soul tainted with their blood? 

Could you still taste the iron on your tongue as he did? 

You were the same, 

tainted, 

doomed. 

You had left them all in a pile. Poor Alys could barely recognize them, much less identify what pieces belonged to which of her children. She had cried that night as he took her. He had licked the tears from her face and her misery warmed him. 

He wanted to thank you for it, 

for the high. 

Could you do it again? 

“I had thought murdering children was Daemon’s brand of cruelty.” 

“As did I, kinslayer.” You worried your lip between your teeth, face a perfect mask of indifference. “I do believe the saying to be ‘an eye for an eye’, not ‘an eye for a life’. Let’s not forget about sweet Lucerys,” you pouted and stepped closer. “He was Rhaenyra’s favorite, you know. Was it worth it?”

Always, he wanted to say. 

Aemond the One-eyed kinslayer with a heart as black as the night he slayed his nephew. 

“No.” 

“Liar.”

Perhaps a little. 

“And how is the whore of dragonstone, hm? I hear they heard her screams all the way to Dorne.” Aemond placed Alys in front of him, pressing himself against her. “And her daughter? A sign from the gods. My sister is more beast than woman. It is not so surprising then to find our uncle rutting into her so.” 

“You think I am here for her?” You laughed. 

Aemond bristled at the sound. He stood before you, a warrior, bloodied and proven, 

and you laugh. 

“No, Aemond,” his trousers tightened despite Alys pressing back against him, “I am here for you. It is time we end this. It is time we see who will win this deadly game. Say goodbye to your whore.”

Alys twisted in his arms with outrage, but Aemond said nothing. He wanted to disobey, if only to see what you would say, 

what you would do to her, 

to him. 

Would you tear the bastard from his arms? He tightened his arms around Alys. Would you? Could you see it in his eyes? The desire? 

Take her, he urged you in his mind. 

Take her. Take her. Take her. Take her. 

Take me. 

In his dreams you called him ‘yours’. 

Eager to chase it all away, Aemond forced Alys around and pressed his lips against her hard and fast without an ounce of kindness. They were already bruised from last night and she twisted in his hold to get away, 

but he wouldn’t let her. 

She saw much in the fire, his Alys. Surely she saw into his very core and knew the beast that waited there, ready to devour all that tries to take what belongs to another, 

what belongs to you. 

Piece by piece Aemond fed Alys to it. 

Who did you feed to your beast, Aemond wondered, or had you left it starving until he returned? Did you wait for him like you swore? He refused to believe you had. He did not. So you did not. What if you had? If he touched you would the beast take him? Would it turn against him? 

He wanted to try.

If you consumed him, 

he would be glad. 

You had lain with another. You must have. Or else… He refused to believe you had not, refused to believe that you had not betrayed him for that meant that it all was for nothing. 

He could see it in your eyes. You taunted him with it. A piece of you had been given to another. It must have been. It had been. He could see it. He saw the lack of it. You lacked it. You could not give it to him. It was gone. Gone. Gone. Gone. 

Just like you. 

Where did you go? 

He tore his face away from Alys and pushed her out of the way. 

There. 

You were mounting your dragon. 

The die had been cast, it seemed. Now to see who would survive this dance of theirs. 

Aemond clambered up the chains to Vhagar’s saddle. 

“Kinslayer!” You interrupted him as he was about to fasten the chains around him. He looked up, and there you were. Upside down in your saddle. He scowled. “Don’t bother with the chains. This won’t take long.”

“Soves!” Aemond barked at Vhagar, who grumbled and growled in protest at his tone, but the she-dragon obeyed. 

Your dragon was smaller and swifter than the old she-dragon, and quickly the pair of you disappeared in the clouds above. Because of her size Vhagar was much slower and had taken to ascending in ever widening circles, forcing them out over the vast lake. The waters of Gods eye shimmered like molten copper under the setting sun. It was rather peaceful, Aemond thought. 

And then, 

your dragon emerged from the clouds from his blindside. Teeth like swords wrapped around Vhagar’s throat and talons ripped and ripped at her soft underbelly. Vhagar twisted in your dragon’s hold, tearing herself further at his teeth in her desperation to be free. 

“Vhagar!” He shouted in horror. 

Her roars of pain echoed across the land. She turned and turned, lashed out with her tail, her claws. 

“Dracarys!” Aemond commanded her. “Dracarys!” 

Fire spouted from her maw, so bright that it looked like the clouds themselves caught on fire. 

Your dragon let go so that he could get a better grip but Vhagar banked to the side and the two dragons grappled at each other. Talons tore at hide until blood rained down on the fishermen below. 

And yet, through it all, you remained quiet. Such was your bond with your dragon. It needed no words. 

Vhagar’s claws caught on the soft underbelly of your dragon, and her teeth on his wing, but the she-dragon was dying. Her great wings slowed down, her fire a mere ember glowing in her throat. Your dragon bit at Vhagar again with renewed vigor, undeterred by her talons cutting straight through entrails. 

“Oh, kinslayer!” Your voice echoed in the wind. 

He looked up and only managed to draw his dagger as you leaped from your dragon. You slammed into him and your sword through him. Aemond gasped and sputtered. You were touching him. 

Skin against skin. 

Your face against his. 

Blood coated your teeth. 

You had never looked more beautiful. 

He barely noticed Vhagar’s dying shrieks, or that the three of you began plummeting towards the water. 

The feeling of her, 

it rushed through his veins, 

burned up his skin. 

Your chest heaved, but you smiled at him. You smiled and pressed yourself closer to him. Would you impale yourself on your own sword to get closer? Bleed into him as he bleeds into you. For what was this but you killing yourself? You and he were the same. 

Then you gasped, and Aemond was broken from his trance. 

You were still falling, 

falling together. 

But his dagger? You had fallen straight onto it. Red gushed out onto his hand. Horror filled his chest. He brought his hand up to his face. He wanted to cover his eyes and pray, pray, pray until he woke up in his bed and this was all a bad dream. 

He hardly felt his own pain over the pain in his heart. The beast rattled at the bars of the cage, breaking his ribs to crawl out of her chest and be reunited with you. 

Aemond’s eyes flew open at your touch. Calm acceptance waited for him in your eyes. He knew then that you also knew that this would never end in any other way. You were never meant to survive the war, for what was there to live for if not the other. You were always meant to burn together, 

die together.

Happiness. You were happy, 

happy with him. 

He could see the water now. It would be your grave. But you would be together. He wondered if you knew what would happen when you decided to jump from your dragon. Had you seen his dagger? Was this your design all along? To die together at each other’s hands? 

The one piece of you that you could give to no other. It was his. 

His. His. His. His. He was yours. 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

You brought his blood coated hand to his mouth, and without looking away he licked at the wetness there. You pressed it harder against him and he licked and licked until it was gone and his face was stained with you. You. You. You.

You threw yourself against him again, your lips pressed against his. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. But it was perfect. He chased your lips as you pulled away. You had never looked as beautiful as you did then, lips smeared with blood and wide-shot pupils. 

You clutched at his tunic, to bring him closer or push him away? Aemond didn’t know. You pulled and then you pushed. 

And then, 

blackness. 

Aemond looked up. 

A blood red setting sun. 

Water filled his lungs. He didn’t feel cold and it was okay, 

because he had you in his arms, 

and now you would never be apart. 

[theresthesnitch]

It's about community, y'all.

I’ve found myself recently in a fandom interaction that has left me feeling very uncomfortable, and I want to talk about it. 

I will not be sharing usernames or fic names, so please do not publicly mention who they are if you figure out who this is. 

About a month ago, I was messaged by an account that doesn’t follow me, asking me to read their friend’s fic. The initial message was very flattering–their friend was a big fan of my work, and it would be so nice for them to get a comment from me on it. Honestly, it was such a sweet message, and I said I was busy right then, but I’d make time to read it.

When I opened the fic, it was a username that I didn’t recognize. Which is not terribly surprising, but I do recognize and notice regular commenters and people who regularly interact with me on Tumblr. (Which, by the way, is a good thing. These people all have a special place in my heart, and I love seeing their interactions.) This person also had no other fics published to AO3, and no bookmarks on their account. 

 I am an email hoarder, which means that every comment, kudo, and tumblr follow I get an email notification for is still stored in my email. I searched my inbox for the writer’s username, and nothing came up. I don’t mean nothing significant, I mean not one single comment, kudos, or follow from the account. I searched the account who messaged me, and got the same result. No one single comment, kudo, or follow. 

The thing that may not be immediately obvious from the outside is that many writers connect with each other as well. We share fic recs, snippets, and plot bunnies. We also talk about comments that we love, fans that we enjoy seeing in our notes, and significant interactions. 

Which is to say that the first thing I did was drop this fic with an explanation of what happened into the “fic recs” channel of our discord. Immediately, I find out that this is not a unique situation. Many of the writers in that discord were also approached, either by the actual writer or a friend, and asked to read it. 

I messaged the account again and asked if their friend was operating under a new username because I didn’t recognize them. Which is valid and I know people change their usernames sometimes. The friend responded that they did, but that the friend wouldn’t like them sharing it. I looked into the tumblr that messaged me then, and the account had been set up one singular day before they messaged me, with nothing more than a few art reblogs on their blog. 

At this point, I’m getting a really weird feeling from this, and I decide to just not respond anymore. I’m not going to call them out, but I’m also not going to engage. 

Yesterday, the “friend’s” account sent me another message, asking if I’d read it and telling me again that they can give their friend’s old account name if I really want it. They also mention that their friend read through and commented on a bunch of my older fics–which they did. Between May 24 and June 1, they left 17 comments on some of the very first fics I ever wrote and published. However, the way she tells me this feels very much like a quid pro quo - I commented, now where’s yours? 

I jumped back into the discords of some of my mutuals, and asked about this again. It turns out that all of us have gotten a weird vibe from them, and that this all feels like such a manipulative, creepy way to ask for exposure on your fic. 

And, because I’m me and needed more information, I went back to their fic and looked through the comments and bookmarks. 

There’s an ongoing discussion in many writer’s circles about interactions being lower, particularly comments, which you’ve probably seen crop up around Tumblr as well. While I don’t want to rehash this discussion here, the basic consensus is that most established writers are seeing fewer comments than ever, even when there’s a significant number of kudos. 

This fic has a not insignificant number of kudos, but a surprisingly large amount of comments and bookmarks, comparatively. Enough that just seeing the stats shocked me. I looked through the comments and saw lots of well known fandom writers, as well as some otherwise blank accounts. It strikes me as very odd–especially from a new, blank account and for a one shot without chapters to build up an audience. 

I jumped back in the discord and asked my mutuals about this again. Several people described really weird interactions with this individual. I heard stories about this person being really flattering when they initially reached out, vaguely complimenting the writer, then completely ghosting after the writer comments on their fics. 

I’ve debated for a bit about whether to post on this or not. The entire interaction has left such a bad taste in my mouth. I’ve no doubt that the writer and their friend are the same person, and I suspect some of their comments are fabricated as well. It’s elaborate, to a weird degree, and I feel so uncomfortable by it. 

The thing is, I love talking to people who have read my work. I love getting sent a fic rec. I read so little at this point just due to life and limited time that basically everything I read is something a mutual wrote or something recommended to me. I also really love the “it would mean so much to me if you read this” message, but only if it’s genuine. I have read first fics of new writers who sent me their own work, with their name attached, and asked me to. 

Fandom writing is a community, and that works best when we have a little give and take. But when you’re out there manipulating interactions, building up fake flattery to only not follow through, that breaks down our community. It’s unfortunate, manipulative, and honestly, a bit creepy. 

I don’t know if they just thought we (the writing community) wouldn’t notice, but we did. I’ve talked to other writers about this, and if any of my mutuals had a similar experience, I’d love to hear about it. 

To my “friend” who wrote this fic, I know you’re proud of your fic, but you’re not doing yourself any favors with this behavior. I will not be reading it. I also will not be responding to you or “your friend” any further. I wish you luck, and I hope you find what you’re looking for.