#after that I think I only have winter soldier bears to make? maybe one more bucky

[tj-crochets]

Hey y’all! If you ever find a charity that is going to do an auction as a fundraiser, and that auction is online and is willing to let me mail the winners their prizes instead of requiring them to pick up the prizes at a specific location, let me know? I really want to donate more things for charity auctions, but my best fundraising items would be fandom related* and those will do much better in an online auction than an in-person one *I already do the Marvel Trumps Hate auction every year, but I have so much non-Marvel stuff I want to make! Pokemon, Studio Ghibli, Momo and Appa from Avatar...there are so many options to choose from

[alligator-teeth]

*coughs* maybe some crumbs of dragon albedo?

Crumbs? Anon, for you, you’re getting the whole goddamn pie.

Princeps Cretaceus Chapter: Savior Amist the Snow

Pairing: Dragon Albedo x Human

WARNING: This story contain soft, safe, sfw vore. If this makes you uncomfortable, please do not read this story.

Word Count: 2100

Summary: After getting lost in one of Dragonspine's infamous blizzards, you come into contact with one of the mountain's many legends, who decides you help you in a very unorthodox way.

The blizzard is an unrelenting force of pure fury that casts the cruel landscape of Dragonspine in a wasteland of white. Snow blocks your vision, and the wind whips your hair askew, screaming like the ghosts of lost adventurers who came before you. They’re warning you to turn back; yet how can you, now that the path you’ve taken has been swallowed up by the storm? Ice clings to your clothing, weighing you down as you continue trekking forward, forcing your legs to take steps you can no longer feel. The snow is up to your knees. You don’t even know how you still have the will to keep moving anymore.

  Like many before you, Dragonspine is severely underestimated, despite its colossal size and intimidating reputation. The mountain towers over Monstadt like a lone soldier protecting its most precious treasures within. You grew up on the tales told to you by your mother and father, of an eternal winter that never goes away, brought forth by forces too ancient for even Barbatos to remember. The mountain has never left your mind; it stays stubbornly put on the edge of your imagination with fortitude no human can possess. You’ve dreamt of climbing it and exploring the ruins scattered among the snow. You want to see what the famous landmark hides.

  The adventures at the Angel’s Share laugh at you. “You can’t conquer Dragonspine,” they say. “She’ll eat you alive. No one makes it to the peak and lives to tell the tale. If the frostbite and hypothermia don’t get you, the hilichurls and whopperflowers will. And if they don’t manage to catch you…the final thing you’ll face is the dragon.”

  You never wish to conquer. You simply want to discover. Hilichurls and other monsters don’t scare you. You aren’t a newcomer to adventuring, and you’ve done your fair share of exploring the wilds of Monstadt. You know how to defend yourself, even without a Vision. And as for the stories about the dragon who terrorizes the mountain’s peaks…well, it’s exactly what people say it to be: a story. Dragons don’t exist anymore, and any sightings of this mysterious beast are repeatedly proven to be false. Dangerous as it is, Dragonspine is simply nothing more than a mountain. It is a mountain you will climb.

  It took you three days to make it to where you are now. You thought you were ready. Nothing could have prepared you for just how brutal the climate truly is.

  You start to move your right foot forward, but it suddenly gives out. You can’t feel yourself faceplant into the snow. You can barely find the energy to lift your head up. Everything feels strangely light, like balloons have been attached to your arms and legs and are now slowly lifting you into the air. Your teeth stopped chattering long ago. You suddenly realize how nice it would feel to fall asleep, right here where you are.

  This is it, you manage to think. This is how I die. Yet you really can’t find it within yourself to care. You knew what you were getting into. What does it matter? You’re tired. Just so tired. Your eyelids droop shut on their own accord, and your head slumps back into the snow.

  Deep beneath the packed layers of your freshly fallen grave, you feel a faint vibration. Followed by another. And another. Gradually getting closer…or is it farther away? You can’t tell. Part of you thinks you should be concerned. What if it’s a bear? Or a clan of hilichurls? Are you really this close to having a peaceful death, only to have that stripped away from you by being eaten alive?

  Warm air snorts down on your back. You hear what sounds to be a very surprised noise from above.

  Lazily lifting your head again, you peer upwards and meet the gaze of the massive dragon looking right down at you.

  The creature blinks its sky blue eyes. It looks…a bit shocked to see you lying out here. For a moment, the two of you simply stare at each other.

  “Hello,” the dragon says. Its voice is male, surprisingly soft and smooth, with a slight accent that sends shivers down your spine.

  You open your mouth to respond, but find you cannot move your tongue. All that comes out is a low, shaky whimper.

  The dragon’s ears droop a little. Moving his head closer, he sniffs you deeply. You can see freckles of gold scattered across his snout. White scales that blend in with the blizzard sparkle like the purest crystals from Liyue’s Chasm. You catch a glimpse of an aureate diamond centered in between the beast’s clavicles. It’s an angel, you think. An angel from Celestia itself.

  “You are freezing,” the dragon murmurs. “I cannot pick up your scent.” He leans back. “Your case of hypothermia is rapidly becoming extreme. At this rate, it is only a matter of time before you die.”

  Well, he doesn’t have to tell you that. You’re pretty sure you know when you are close to dying or not.

  “I don’t understand why you humans insist on venturing into these sorts of temperatures. Your bodies simply cannot handle it. So small and fragile you’re kind is…” He sighs. “You especially. I will have to take you in.”

  Take me in? you wonder. What the hell does he mean by that?

  The dragon continues to ramble on. “While I do not enjoy resorting to such…uncomfortable methods of rescue, I feel there is no other way. Listen to me, little one. You must remain as still as possible, alright? If you fight, you will do more harm to yourself. Just…trust me.” He arches his neck downwards again and carefully noses you out of the snow. The movement upsets your failing body, and you whine. He shushes you with a reassuring coo. “Hush. I know this is not ideal. But it will be over soon. I will get you warm. You will be much more comfortable where you are going than out here.”

  You still have absolutely no idea what he is talking about…until the dragon opens his mouth wide. You find yourself peering up into a pair of jaws lined with serrated teeth that make the canines of a polar bear look blunt. He hovers his head directly over you and dips his tongue underneath your torso. Vertigo lurches through you when the dexterous muscle lifts you up into the dragon’s waiting maw. Raising his head up, you slide a bit onto the tongue’s center. What little light manages to pierce through the blizzard is shut out when the great beast closes his mouth shut.

  For the first time since you started this doomed expedition, you feel fear. It begins as a tiny pebble sitting in the center of your gut. Then it becomes a stone, taking up space. That stone grows quickly, forming a boulder, heavy, oppressing, snaking its tendrils through your veins and lighting them on fire. Your heart quickens with dread. The dragon lathers you in saliva, tasting you, preparing you for the journey you are about to take. Behind you, his throat pulses, quivering anticipatingly for its newest victim. You are going to be swallowed. The dragon is going to eat you alive.

  You begin to squirm, feebly pushing the tongue away. “N-No,” you choke out. “Stop.” You don’t want this. This isn’t how you wish to die. “Please. Don’t…Don’t kill me.”

  The dragon pauses. You think you can hear a heavy exhale whoosh from his nose. Then, he purrs and gives you a squeeze with his tongue. It’s not harsh, not painful. Rather, you almost get the idea he is trying to offer you comfort. Why such an imposing predator would want to comfort its prey is beyond your understanding.

  The beast tilts his head back; the tongue loosens and frees you from its grasp. You stiffly slide backwards, still too cold to properly resist. Your legs catch in the ring of muscle at the edge of his throat. A might gulp echoes around you, and with no problem, you are sucked in with no time to even fathom what comes next.

  You are terrified. As the tight muscles of the dragon’s esophagus constrict and force you down, down, down, you can hardly find the room to think or even breathe. Your consciousness is utterly consumed by the beast you are now within. Squelching gulps ring in your ears. A mighty heart thumps with excited vigor, overtaking your own. You feel like you are melting into him, becoming part of him, losing any sense of self because of how overwhelming all of this is.

  You are small. You are scared.

  After what feels like hours later, just as you think you might completely lose your mind, you slowly slide into an open space. You plop onto a squishy floor that jiggles a little when you land. The dragon’s stomach growls happily, welcoming you with an instinctive hug. Warm, wet flesh embraces you, smothering you with its affection from all angles. You cannot see anything, but you can feel. The beast is all around you. You are in his belly for good.

  “There we go,” the dragon says. His voice is soft, yet it comes from everywhere. “I knew you would make it safely. How are you doing in there, little one? Feeling warm?”

  You don’t respond. The heat of his body has successfully fought off the numbness. Feeling is gradually returning to your limbs. With feeling, though, comes trembling. Trembling from the cold…and the fear.

  The dragon’s belly squeezes you again. He’s getting a feel for you, figuring out where you are. “Little one?” he calls, sounding worried. “You are shaking.”

  Tears leak from your eyes. You shove the stomach walls away, heart rate elevating dramatically. No. Nonono. This can’t be happening. You can’t just…just disappear like this. There is no way Celestia has doomed you to be a dragon’s lunch.

  “...Ah. I see. You are afraid.” The dragon sighs. “There is no need for panic, now. You are safe. I have done quite a lot of research into the practice of…well, consuming organisms alive, little one, and my experiments have provided me with multiple conclusions which have told me that digestion is only triggered if I wish for it. I am currently not in the practice of ruthlessly killing any humans I come across, and you don’t take to be very appetizing, being as you are half-frozen with much of your flavor hidden-”

  “You…aren’t helping,” you interrupt, holding your head in your hands.

  “...Noted. My point is, you are safe. If I wanted you dead, I simply would have ignored you and left you to be lost in the blizzard. But I don’t want that. And I know you don’t want it, either. My body will provide you with the necessary warmth to return to a stable condition. Once we are back in my lab, I will let you out and nurse you back to full health. It may take a few days, but I can promise you will make a full recovery. Just please…trust me to protect you.”

  You curl up a little and ease yourself into the stomach floor, choosing to ignore the implications of this massive creature having a lab for the sake of your own sanity. The dragon flexes his abdomen and hugs you for a third time. More soft, gentle rumbles reverberate around you, soothing your petrified soul. Your heart beats in tandem with the beast, and it…eases you.

  “Am I really safe in here?” you timidly squeak.

  “Yes,” he replies. “I swear it. You will be okay.”

  “...What’s your name?”

  He doesn’t seem to have expected you to ask that. When he answers, his voice is tender. “I am Albedo. What is your name, little one?”

  “Y/N.”

  “Y/N.” Albedo hums. “A beautiful name. It certainly suits you. Y/N, please do not be afraid of me. From here on, I will keep you safe. Rest. There is nothing to fear from my belly. It will provide you with all the comfort you need.”

  You nestle into the warmth. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness now, and you find you can just barely make out the grooves of the stomach’s walls. Reaching out, you gingerly run your fingers over the floor. The belly shivers and murmurs, cuddling you. You feel strangely calm once Albedo begins moving, his gait easing you into a comfortable rhythm.

  “You are safe,” he whispers once more. And now, you find yourself believing him.

[pixelgirlsworld]

Luthor’s Soldier (Jason Todd x Reader)

Joy’s notes: hellooo my loves, welcome to my first one shot on this account, actually first work ever on this account. I’ll be fixing my blog and navigation soon, so sorry if everything looks a little wonky atm, hope you enjoy this!

Pairing: Jason Todd x Female Reader! Titans!verse, angst, fluff, possible grammar and writing errors, trauma, detailed descriptions of trauma, inspired by the winter soldier concept, no collision of DC and Marvel universes.

WC: 7.1k words, oneshot

“He’s quiet. I should’ve gone with them, maybe the mission would’ve gone smoother” Dick said, staring at the ground, kicking at nothing in particular.

“You can’t blame yourself for a mission that never went through in the first place. Tim and Jason always put saving civilians first, stop stressing, we’ll try again in a few days.” Bruce responded, putting his hand on Dick’s shoulder.

Jason was in the far corner of the bat cave, messing with his guns, fingers swiping over the blood that stained his chest holster. Touching it gave him flashbacks, made him think back to that morning.

“Jason! The girl!” Tim shouted, shoving off a goon that tried to overpower him.

Jason whipped around, eyes darting, searching for the girl in a blue sweatshirt that was in trouble. He saw her, in the alley, struggling against a large man who attempted to subdue her. Jason quickly jumped down from the rooftop, kicking down the attacker and knocking him out in one swift motion. He turned to the girl, wanting to make sure she hadn’t suffered any injuries, but he froze in his tracks. She was almost the spitting image of you. She stared at him, wide-eyed. He wanted to flinch, to touch her, to cringe back, to hug her, to ask if she was okay, hell anything. He wanted to do anything, but he couldn’t.

“Jason!” Tim shouted, watching as six more goons had shown up, three of them in front of him.

Jason heard Tim, but not really. His voice was muffled, the sound of loud, messy footsteps racing towards them becoming white noise. A ringing in his ear started. He couldn’t react when the world went blurry, the girl was getting attacked in front of him, rough hands were gripping his jacket. Only when a harsh blow landed to the side of his face did he manage to somewhat come back to Earth, but not in time to save the girl. The girl in the blue sweatshirt. The girl who looked like you.

Tim jumped down from the rooftop, slightly battered and bruised from fighting. He fought off the last men who kept attacking Jason, running to his brother in worry.

“Jason. Jason! Jason, talk to me, what happened? Are you okay?” Tim grabbed him by the shoulders.

Jason was out of it, quite obviously. Tim dragged him out of the alley, calling out to Dick on their comms. Jason kept looking back, looking at the girl in the blue sweatshirt, now dead and it was all his fault. Just like last time. Just like how you were his fault. He looked down and saw her blood that had splattered on his chest holster. The deep red tinting the dark brown leather.

“Jason.” Dick said.

Jason looked up, startled that he’d been pulled out of his thoughts.

“It’s unlike you to get in your head while on a mission. What happened out there?” Dick pried, sitting across Jason with his hands folded in his lap.

Jason could only shake his head; how could he defend himself? Was he supposed to say that he saw someone who looked like you and froze? That he let her die because he couldn’t keep it together? He knew that having this conversation with Dick would only end in an argument, nasty, with harsh words that neither party would mean to say. Dick stood up after waiting a few moments, walking to the tunnel of the bat cave, where Tim waited for him. In the distance, Jason could hear Tim explaining the situation, but he tuned it out, knowing that listening would cause him to have another flashback, and that weight was just something he couldn’t bear any more of at the moment.

Later that night, Jason took one of Bruce’s jets to RC-14, RC referring to a remote center which held the most dangerous objects that Bruce had ever encountered as a result of his endeavors on the field as Batman. Jason was checked and scanned, his handprint on the door opening to a lab. He entered, the steel structure making him feel claustrophobic. He stepped closer to the center of the room, holding onto the railing in front of him. He looked down through the glass window, seeing doctors and scientists in white coats, surrounding a girl on a lab table.

You, still as beautiful as ever, your hair much longer since the last time he’d seen you, your body much thinner, your face much paler. The doctors were connecting more wires to the sides of your head, the scientists were putting something on the metal that was your left arm and right leg. He assumes they’re trying to figure out if the metal was coating your actual skin, or if they were just your limbs now. He smiled a bit to himself, he knows exactly what you would say if you were awake, with all those people surrounding you. ‘Ah, what the fuck! There’s too many people near me, guys I feel crowded, can everyone move a bit?’

Alas, as much as he could imagine it, you were not going to wake up while still on the gas that the scientists had manufactured specifically to keep you asleep. He wonders again, for the nth time, if you’ll ever wake up, and if you’ll even wake up to be the girl he had fallen in love with when he was just 18 years old.

He still remembers the day you were taken from him, how it was all his fault, how it should’ve been him. Lex Luthor was determined to get his hands on Red Hood, he wanted to test his latest experiments on Jason, whom he thought would be the perfect test subject as a result of coming out of the pit. You two were on a date, celebrating your 2 year anniversary. You were inside a fancy restaurant, golden walls, with some fancy name Jason couldn’t pronounce, but he loved the way you laughed when he tried. The waiter was just about to bring your food over, but the sound of metal plates hitting the ground caused you and Jason to be on your feet quickly. Jason’s eyes scanned the restaurant, seeing many of Luthor’s men circling the restaurant and knocking out many of the customers.

“I don’t see him here boss!” One of them shouted.

“He’ll be there, he was seen scouting the area earlier.” Luthor’s voice was heard over the earpieces of his men.

Shit. Jason had been in his costume to scout the area earlier that day, he wanted to make sure no bad guys were around to ruin your perfect date together. He wanted your anniversary to be perfect. You didn’t miss a beat when he gave you that look, taking his helmet out from your purse and tossing it over to him. He was ready to fight them as Red Hood if it meant you and the rest of the people in the restaurant could make it out safely. You called to Dick over comms while Jason did his best to fight off anyone who tried to make their way to you two.

In almost no time, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were all in the restaurant, fighting with Jason. They had never seen so many of Luthor’s men in one place before.

“There’s too many of them boss!” One of the goons shouted, three of them attacking Bruce.

“Grab the girl.” Luthor said.

You were hiding near the table, although Jason insisted that you trained with him a few times, you were nowhere near combat ready. Luthor’s men made a play to overpower Jason, Dick, Tim, and Bruce to make sure they wouldn’t realize that their new plan was to kidnap you. Jason was being held by six men at once, feeling their weights crush him, he felt as though he might crack under the pressure. That was, until he heard you scream.

“Jason!” You reached for him, your red dress being torn and grabbed at by multiple men

He instantly broke free and fought though many men to get to you, you kept calling out to him but more and more men barricaded him from you. Bruce, Tim, and Dick were also being pulled away, Luthor had really exhausted his resources trying to capture Jason.

“(Y/N)! I’ll find you, I swear, if it’s the last thing I do!” Jason screamed, so loud he felt his throat tighten up.

He could only watch as the men dragged you out of the restaurant, he’d never forget the fear in your eyes.

Jason and his family did indeed try to find you. Jason exhausted every day and night for months tracking Luthor’s men, following small leads, interrogating men, all of them leading to nothing. He remembers when Dick called out to him on comms, his voice was chilling, almost frightened.

“Jason. Get down to the bridge, now.”

He was quick on his feet, he’d only heard Dick use such a voice in dire situations. He made his way to the bridge, only to see Dick, Bruce, and Tim all standing, frozen. Their jaws might as well have been dropped too with how wide their eyes were. He questioned them, hearing the distinct fighting noises from below them, but seeing that his family had not been in on the action. Dick could only point towards the bridge below them, the action almost comic.

Jason scoffed a bit, thinking that their foe on the bridge would prove to be no big deal, that his family had just been overreacting. Jason follows his finger which directs his line of sight to a girl on the bridge, her left arm completely made out of metal. She was fighting a policeman on the bridge, clearly winning with ease. He immediately recognized you, he was already quick on his feet to run to you, but not before Bruce put his arm out on his chest to stop him.

“She’s been fighting off the Gotham PD since she broke one of the streetlights and swung it into a car.” Bruce said.

“What? Was anyone hurt?” Jason asked, his voice full of concern, his eyes clouded in disbelief.

You? Break a streetlight? Injure people? Hit a car? You could barely throw a punch. You would never hurt anyone.

“Thankfully, no. I was able to get to the car before it swerved off the bridge, Gotham PD tried to bring her in but she was quick to put up a fight.” Dick said, his eyes still fixed onto you.

“You have to let me try to talk to her.” Jason said, he knew that if anyone could get you to come to your senses, it’d be him.

Bruce and Dick exchanged a look, knowing they had already tried but Jason would have a much higher chance than they ever did. Bruce nodded, giving Jason the green light to jump down from the bridge and make his way to you.

“(Y/N)! God, I thought I’d lost you.” He called out, still making his way closer to you.

You knocked out the policeman you had been fighting, turning your attention to him. Your eyes glared into him, it was as if you hadn’t recognized him at all.

“(Y/N)? Honey, you’ve gotta come home. If you stop now, we can help you fix it, we’ll make it better, Batman will work something out with the PD, but you need to stop and come back home with me so we can do that, okay?” Jason said, noticing your demeanor.

You disregarded his words as he walked up to you. Jason put a hand up to try and touch your face but you were quicker, grabbing his wrist and twisting it back. He parried your movements until you both were gripping each others arms.

“What are you doing? (Y/N), stop!” Jason didn’t want to fight you, he couldn’t bear the thought of doing such a thing.

You ignored him, but he managed to pull you close while continuing to dodge your movements.

“I. Don’t. Know. Who. That. Is. And I don’t. Know who you are.” Your voice was almost robotic, free of emotion.

As soon as you broke free of Jason’s hold, the rest of the team had jumped down from the bridge, ready to use force to bring you in. Jason pleaded to Bruce not to harm you, but it was quite clear you would harm them. As Bruce denied his request and said they would try their best, Jason bit his tongue, he knew you weren’t going to stop. He didn’t know what Luthor did to you but he would damn well find out once they were able to bring you in.

Dick was the first to go after you, with you parrying his movements effortlessly. One by one they went after you, Jason being last, obviously. It hurt him to see his family land a few blows on you once a while, way more than yours on them. It hurt him to have to fight with you, to have to inflict any pain on you. Jason tried to pull his punches, but one miscalculation led to him punching you in the nose, your head flinched back and you looked back at him with blood dripping from your nostril.

“Baby, I did not mean that, I am so, so sorry.” He started, immediately softening to reach for you again.

“(Y/N). Come in. Fall back. That’s an order.” Luthor spoke on your comms.

You listened and took one last look at the team, at Jason. For a second he could’ve sworn that you recognized him, but you turned and disappeared, quick as the wind.

“Are you liking my new toy, Hood?” Luthor teased over the phone.

Jason fought the urge to scream, scrunching his fist against the table. Luthor had been sending you on multiple missions to destroy parts of the city. Each time, you were too quick for the team to catch up to you.

“Cut the act Luthor. What did you do the girl?” Bruce said, his voice hard.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Batman? Aren’t you the clever one, I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Cut the bullshit.” Jason sneered.

“Getting a little irritated, are we, Hood? I’ll admit, going for your girlfriend wasn’t my first choice, but she is quite stylish, isn’t she? Don’t worry, all in due time fellas, for now, you’re busy.” He laughed.

A red dot beeped on the map that was on the console of the batcave. Luthor’s low chuckle could be heard as the team ran off to see what had been happening at the location of the marker.

There you stood, slamming various objects into the windows of a bank, causing a complete ruckus. It must’ve been your third attack just in that week. The shattering glass left you unfazed, Luthor’s men circled around you to wreak havoc on the inside of the bank. Jason leapt from the top of the building, landing on his feet at the entrance of the bank; or least, what had been left of it. The rest of the team had followed shortly, nervousness rising in their veins as they took in the damage of the bank. They wondered if you had killed anyone. If you would really go that far.

Jason found you, your metal arm slamming a wooden table in half, you were angry with one of Luthor’s men, ordering him to do something. You were obviously fuming, and it made Jason nervous. He couldn’t let you hurt anyone. The team stealthily made their way closer to you, waiting for all of Luthor’s men to leave your side. Dick, as per usual, went in on you first. You put up a fight, parrying his movements almost as perfectly as you had the last time. They knew you wouldn’t be able to take all of them at once, so they quickly overpowered you. It took all four of them to subdue you, with Jason having the last hit on you. As Jason put pressure onto your shoulder, you looked at him, eyes wide.

“J-Jason?” You said weakly.

He could’ve melted at that moment. He could’ve frozen, he could’ve fallen for you all over again.

Could’ve.

“Jason!” Bruce shouted.

He lands a blow into the right side of your face, hard enough of knock you out. Dick carried you out of the building over his shoulder. Jason had lagged, looking at his hand, unclenching his fist and feeling like a monster had taken over his body because never would he have imagined having to hurt you on purpose.

You were laid out on a table in the batcave, large steel cuffs holding down all of your limbs. You were still knocked out, sporting a purple bruise that had blossomed over your cheek. Jason could barely look at you, unsure if he could handle whatever was going to happen.

“Rachel, I know you’re not exactly comfortable with this but we need to know what happened to her, she’s been missing for 8 months.” Dick pleaded, following Rachel into the cave.

“You know this could hurt her, right? What if you don’t like the truth? What if I don’t?” Rachel basically threatened, knowing her emotions could cause her powers to take down the entire building.

“That won’t happen, we need to know so we can save her. The (Y/N) we know wasn’t even capable of hitting someone, but we saw her in full combat.” Dick pleaded again.

Jason watched quietly as Rachel sighed in defeat, walking over to where you rested. She looked up at Jason as if to ask ‘are you sure about this?’ But he could only give her a slight nod. She proceeded to put her hands on either side of your head, letting her magic allow her to see into your memories. Everyone watched as Rachel’s blackened purple magic surrounded the area. Suddenly, Rachel started screaming, her hands shaking.

“She’s resisting me, I can’t do it!”

“Yes you can. Talk to her, the real her.” Dick exclaimed.

Rachel frantically called out to you, asking if you remembered her, remembered when you had first met. You were laughing at something Jason had said and dropped your ice cream but she had used her powers to keep it from hitting the floor. Jason smiled hearing Rachel retell the story, boy would you have let him hear it to the end of his days if it was his fault that your favorite strawberry Nutella ice cream covered in sugar had fallen to the floor, even though he thought it was disgusting.

Rachel calmed down, her eyes turning red as she opened them. She gasped periodically for a few minutes before pulling back, wincing at the strain she felt from having exhausted her powers.

“Are you okay? Tell us what you saw.” Tim said, rushing over to hold her arms up for stability.

Rachel looked to everyone’s longing faces in horror and shock. Jason worried, his chest tightened so much he thought he might explode at that very moment. Rachel explained what had happened to you in the last 8 months. Lex Luthor had kidnapped you, and injected you with multiple serums as a result of not being able to capture Red Hood. He thought you would’ve died from the agony, as normal human blood shouldn’t have been able to take the effects of the serums, but Luthor was itching for a test subject and settled for you. When you had passed the first few trials of the serums, you began to change, and Luthor was able to control you just with a few commanding words. You were complete with enhanced abilities such as a super-memory, which was how you were able to fight off Dick, Bruce, and Tim so well, Luthor had you watch videos of them in combat. You were battered, fought against, weaponized, trained, and brainwashed.

“But why are her arm and leg covered in metal?” Bruce questioned.

“I don’t know, I didn’t see that part.” Rachel looked down at the ground, disappointed.

“Brainwashed? She doesn’t…remember us? Remember me?” Jason asked, studying your face for anything he could find.

“I don’t think so. She remembers bits and pieces but Luthor injected her with more serum every time her conscience would surface.”

“Oh God, if that serum did this to just her, imagine how much he can do with it if he keeps making it.” Dick said, running his hands through his hair frustratedly.

“(Y/N) has the last of it in her blood, Luthor needed her alive to test her blood to perfect the formula. Without her, he can’t make a perfected formula.” Rachel said, hopeful.

Bruce explained that you would have to be kept safe and away from the world in order for the team to take down Luthor’s entire serum operation, all while they also searched for a way to cure you.

Months later, though they had taken down Luthor and his scientists, they still could not find a cure, Rachel came in daily to keep you in a constant dreaming state, you laid on the table, sound asleep, although Jason couldn’t talk to you directly, he still talked to you on most days, talked about everything you had missed in the last year, his 21st birthday, Tim breaking his ankle, Bruce buying Dick a really small, ugly car. He knew you probably couldn’t hear him, but on the off chance that you could, he wanted to make sure you felt like you hadn’t missed a thing. Every time they had tried to talk to you while you were awake, you would only try to break free, nearly breaking the cuffs and your limbs just to try and destroy the place.

Bruce came in one day, Tim, Dick, Jason, and Rachel all in the room. Rachel had her hands near your head, stabilizing you as Bruce spoke. He said he had a temporary solution to you having the serum in your body. It wasn’t a good solution but he managed to develop a gas to keep you under while he worked on an anti-serum that would slowly bring you back and help you regain your body.

“How is that a solution at all? Have you tested the gas? We don’t even need it, we have Rachel!” Jason yelled.

“It’s a solution because Rachel is exhausting her powers everyday, it’s affecting her in the field, and her power constantly going into (Y/N)’s mind is causing her memories to drive further and further away. Do you really want her to end up waking up with no recollection of you at all?” Dick drove into Jason like a screwdriver, immediately regretting his choice of words.

Jason was silent for a long moment, shaking his head as tears stung in his eyes.

“How long?”

“I can’t answer that.” Bruce said.

“How. Long.” Jason repeated.

“I. Can’t. Answer that! It could be months, it could be years, it could be forever!” Bruce shouted.

The team watched as the young son and his father exchanged harsh words at loud volumes. Eventually Jason agreed, it took him a long time to accept the fact that you’d really be gone, possibly forever, and at a remote facility just so you couldn’t hurt many people if you did wake up. He remembers the day they used the gas on you, you were awake in a tube-like container, and he spoke to you as the gas entered the chamber.

“Hey baby, so, you’re going to go to sleep for a while, but we’re going to work day and night to cure you, and you’ll be good as new, even better, alright? You just rest up, I promise when you get back, I’ll tell you all about it. I swear.” He forced a smile, seeing you panic as the gas caused your eyes to shut.

He broke down into tears once you were under, Dick and Rachel hugging him tightly as the young man gripped on the railing in front of him, slamming his fists down onto the console. He would just have to believe in you, and that Bruce would develop an anti-serum that would wake you up eventually.

That was 3 years ago. Jason was 24 now, a bit taller, voice slightly deeper, he looked grown up but still felt like the same kid Bruce picked off the streets. He stared at you, you were beautiful now. You were beautiful then. You’re still as beautiful as the day he lost you. He knows you’ll still be beautiful on the day that you find him.

“Figured I’d find you here.” Dick’s voice came through.

Jason looked over his shoulder, seeing his brother slowly walk up to be next to him.

“I take it Tim told you everything?” Jason scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dick only smiled and looked at the ground, easily forgiving his younger brother. Hell, if it had been him, he would’ve frozen up too.

“They’ve been injecting her with multiple forms of the anti-serum, the wires are to see how her brain reacts to them, and if they’re helping her regain her consciousness. They’re getting closer Jay, don’t worry.” Dick said, sounding hopeful.

Jason had a hard time believing him, people always said that to him, that you’d be fine, that you’ll be back soon. Not that he had given up on you and seeing you again, he knew you were strong, but he also knew you wouldn’t want him to stop living his life, to stop seeing the world. He tried to live everyday for you, most days he wondered what you’d order at new shops that opened up in Gotham, how long you and Rachel would’ve stayed up playing new video games, how much whining Dick would have to do to get you to train with him. He even made friends with the nice old lady who opened a coffee shop around the corner, Mrs. Bennett. But above all, he wondered what it would be like to be in your arms again, and have you in his. He misses watching you sleep, kissing your head and dragging his hands mindlessly up and down your back.

He gets so lost in his reverie he doesn’t realize Dick is pulling at his shirt and calling out to him.

“Oh my god, Jason, look. Jason!”

There you were, on the table, eyes opening, squinting at the bright lights that shone on you.

“Fuck, that is bright, can you guys turn that down?”

Gasps could be heard from all the scientists around you, all of them crowding up to you, pulling the wires at your head, adjusting the cuffs around your wrist, drawing needles into your skin.

Jason had never moved so quickly in his life, he ran down to the lab entrance, Dick following him suit, trying his best to stop his younger brother. Jason pounded on the door, calling out to you through the soundproof glass.

“Dick, man, you’ve gotta open this lab, I need to see her, I need to.” Jason turned around, practically begging.

“I can’t, we need to let them run some tests, just because she’s awake doesn’t mean we’re in the clear.” Dick explained, overwhelmed, looking at you as you studied the room you were in.

You were obviously confused by your surroundings, but Dick could not let Jason see you if you hadn’t been completely analyzed yet. It took a while to convince Jason to give it a rest, go back to the tower with him and wait for Bruce’s updates.

Jason bounced his knee up and down, anxious. It had been days. Days since he saw you wake up. Days since Dick told him Bruce would come back with news about you. What if you had gone back to sleep? What if you didn’t remember him? What if you went berserk and destroyed the lab? What if you died? What if-

“Jason.” Dick called out.

He stood up immediately, running over to where he was called. Everyone was gathered near Bruce, anxiously waiting for the man to speak.

“She’s stable,” everyone sighed, letting out a breath they didn’t know they held. “All the tests were run, her blood, some memory tests, her strength, her control over her body. She’s completely fine, but some trace of the enhanced abilities the serum Luthor gave her is still there, and we are unsure how much or how little she remembers, if that memory will come back over time, and how it’ll affect her.”

“Where is she?” Rachel asked.

Almost as if on cue, you walked into the batcave, the metal no longer on your limbs. Your steps were delicate, your hair way outgrown, your black boots heavy on your feet. All eyes were on you as you came in, jaws slack in disbelief. Tim even stood in slight alarm that you were going to try and kill all of them.

Jason ran to you, hugging you in a bone-crushing deathgrip and lifting you off the ground. You giggled a bit, holding onto him as he put you down quickly to put his hands on either side of your face to get a good look at you.

“Hey handsome,” God, your voice, he’d almost forgotten what you sounded like. “You look good.”

“I’ve been way better.” He responded.

He kissed you, hard and sweet, forgetting about everyone in the room, melting into the touch you returned. When Dick cleared his throat, Jason parted from you, apologizing quietly while still looking at you and running his hands over your face and hair. He shed a few tears but wiped them away quickly as to not look weak in front of everyone. He had kept it together for so long. He let go of you so you could hug everyone, greeting them with a small smile on your face.

“So, (Y/N), what powers do you have now?” Rachel asked.

“I, um. I can still fight, I remember all my combat training, I still have super-memory, and super strength.” You said, unsure of what else you may still have.

The giddy looks built up on Tim and Dick’s faces, so excited to be able to train with you, and add you to the team, even if that was wishful thinking or them moving way too fast. Everyone’s faces were lit up as they took your presence in, you felt appreciated, albeit still confused from not remembering much, you only knew that you had caused some serious damage as Luthor’s soldier.

The team gathered around the console, the projector showing footage of you wrecking the bank and throwing entire cars across the street. You winced as you heard the screams of people. You caused their pain, their suffering. Jason watched from behind the projector as your eyes began to glass over, he stood up.

“Okay, I think that’s enough.” He said, walking up to you and wrapping his entire frame around you.

He wishes he could shield you from it all. Although you don’t remember any of it for now, it didn’t change the fact that you had done it. You both knew that. He rubbed his hand up and down your back, you could practically feel the stress off of everyone in the room.

“How are we supposed to fix this?” You blurted.

“(Y/N)-“

“No, Jason. Really, how are we supposed to fix this?,” You pulled away from him. “I don’t remember doing any of this, I don’t remember anything past being grabbed at that dinner, yet somehow, I can fight like you guys, I hurt so many people, I destroyed entire buildings with my own hands, how are we supposed to fix this?” You rambled, voice getting quieter towards the end.

“I’ve set up with the Gotham PD to obtain all footage of the attacks, if you wanted to go back to your normal life, by changing your hair and the fact that you don’t have metal limbs anymore, you could get away with it. But if you wanted to use your abilities to help people, to be on this team, then other measures need to be taken.” Bruce offered.

You were left speechless, how could Bruce want you to be part of the team after everything? Could you really do something like that? You didn’t even recall any of the attacks, it felt like you were a stranger in your own body.

“I-I, um. I-I need some time, if that’s okay. I-I j-just need to think.” You managed to get out.

Bruce and the others comforted you, telling you to take all the time you need while they make preparations and continue shielding any knowledge of your actions as Luthor’s soldier. Jason took your hand and led you to his room in the manor, it was emptier than it had been before, much cleaner too. You walked in and sat on the bed while Jason stood at the door, eyes on the floor as if he couldn’t believe his eyes if he looked at you.

“It’s…clean. Which means you don’t really spend much time in here.” You laughed airily.

“I guess I just couldn’t really be alone after what happened, needed to be outside as much as possible.” He said, honestly.

His honesty had you taken aback, it was unlike Jason to be so…straightforward, and honest with his feelings. I suppose things change, especially when you’ve been gone for 4 years.

“So, 24, huh?” You asked, trying to lighten up the mood.

“24.”

“What’s 24 like?”

“Like 20, 21, 22, and 23, but just 24.” He said, putting his finger to his chin as if he were thinking.

You giggled a bit, and he closed the door to walk over to you, wanting to hug you and feel you as if he’d lose you all over again tomorrow. He laid down and you moved to lay on his chest, feeling the anxiety wash away with each stroke of his hands on your back. He was calming, soothing, just as he’d always been. You take a good look at his face while he’s holding you, he almost looked the same as that night you were taken. The bags under his eyes more prominent, the crows feet at his eyes deepened slightly.

“Do I look different?” He asked, noticing how you observed his features.

“A bit, but it’s not a bad thing, handsome. After all, I haven’t seen you in a few years. What about me?” You asked.

“Still beautiful,” He mused. “I like your hair.”

“You always like my hair.”

“I think I just always like you.”

You spent a long time talking, you weren’t sure where you began, but you ended with talking about Mrs. Bennett, the nice old lady who owns the coffee shop down the street. He spent a good chunk of his time swinging by as Jason Todd, buying coffee and pastries from the old woman while she sat with him and listened to his stories about you.

“You gushed over me to an 80 year old woman?”

“She’s 65, and yes. She makes a mean chocolate chip cookie, how am I supposed to say no to that?” Jason responded, as if it was obvious.

You laughed. And he missed it. He wished he could freeze this moment with you, forget the entire outside world existed because his entire world was right in front of him. You questioned if he had ever found someone else while you were under. Even if you didn’t admit it, a tinge of jealousy swirled in your chest. You knew it was somewhat unreasonable though, you were literally asleep for years. You didn’t want him to feel obligated to stay with you after all this time. You decided to keep quiet, now really wasn’t the time to discuss that.

There was an alarm that sounded over the speakers throughout the entire house. Jason was on his feet in an instant, fear overtaking him. He asked you to stay put, safe in the manor with Alfred. You couldn’t help but feel benched, even if you hadn’t exactly accepted Bruce’s offer to join the team. It was probably best you don’t go with them, you didn’t want to distract Jason any more than you already had.

Jason’s desk had been littered with pictures from over the years, him smiling in birthday photos, him at the lab with Dick and Bruce, him half asleep with Tim startling him awake. He had lived his life without you here, and that thought made your heart clench, so happy that your lover had such good memories. You’d laid down in Jason’s bed, falling fast asleep after the alarms stopped, clutching a picture of the entire team together in your hands, the family you’d missed so much.

Jason returned hours later, the Joker made a play to open up Arkham Asylum, but it proved to be a hoax when the team had arrived. Jason made his way up the stairs to his room, in full surprise to see that you weren’t there.

“Alfred, do you know where (Y/N) is?”

“I assumed she was in your room, Master Todd, she never left.”

Jason’s head whipped back around to scan his room, now noticing that the window was open. He pulls out his communicator to call out to everyone, letting them know you had escaped. But why would you leave? You were just fine when he had left, maybe you got worried about him and left to see if you could find him? He knew you wouldn’t have just left for no reason.

The team scoured the streets of Gotham, the dead of the knight leaving no trace of shadows, the flickering streetlights causing an uneasy, eerie feeling.

“Look out!” Rachel gasped.

Dick ducked on instinct, a car flying over his head and crashing into a wall near him. Jason ran in the direction from which it came from, seeing you stumble around the street, pushing things out of your way and throwing your arms in every direction. The team tried to call out to you but as they approached you, they noticed you had been completely asleep.

“Is she…sleep walking?” Rachel asked, almost incredulously.

“More like sleep fighting.” Gar snickered.

“Easily and completely not the time, Gar.”

The green haired boy shrugged and transformed, running to subdue you, but you easily flung your arm out, colliding with him and sending him backwards. Dick snapped his staff in half, ready to fight you. Rachel opened her arms to let her shadow flow from her body. Jason stuck his arm out and shook his head. He ran up to you and parried your movements, eventually pulling you to his chest and grabbing a hold of your face. You were muttering, mumbling, fighting something in your own head.

“You’re safe, honey. I’ve brought you home, you found me. We are home, you’re safe. He will never get to you again, I promise.” He whispered into your ear, clutching you so closely to his chest so that you couldn’t break free, try as you might.

He kept whispering words of comfort, of your safety, of how you were his family. Eventually you stopped mumbling, and woke up confused, rubbing your eyes.

“Jason? God, where are we? My arms are killing me.” You said, rubbing your arms.

You looked around and saw the team staring at you.

“You kinda, sorta, definitely slept walked your way into the city and started destroying shit.” Gar said.

Rachel nudged him with her elbow and he gave her a ‘what-did-I-do’ look. You panicked, dropping to knees, you thought you were fighting, you saw Luthor in your dream, he chanted the words to put you under his command again, you thought you were fighting to see Jason again.

“Oh god.”

You were silent for a long time when the team brought you back home. You sat silently on Jason’s bed while he walked around, changing, cleaning up, distracting himself. He finally sat down next to you when he heard your weight shift.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.

“Okay.”

You told him about the dream, more like nightmare that you had when you had fallen asleep. Luthor had you in his grasp again, chanting the words that would put you under his command. He prodded that you would never see the team again, never see Jason again, and this time he’d inject enough serum for you to not even remember your own name. It had felt so real, and you assume it must’ve triggered something in your body that made you sleep walk.

You cried as you told him. You worried for yourself, for the team; you questioned if you were a danger to yourself, to him, to his family, your family. He held you tightly, listening and thinking to himself, wondering if there was anything he could do to make your life easier, to take all your pain away. You feel sudden fear of how Bruce will react, no way he’ll let you stay with Jason with you sleep walking.

“I think I should sleep in one of the suit capsules in the cave tonight.”

“No, what the hell, no. That’s not happening.” Jason immediately retorted.

“Jason, listen, what happened tonight was lucky. Do you get that? It was lucky. I could’ve hurt someone, I could’ve killed someone, I could’ve- what if you- what if I-“ You lost your words, unable to fathom the possibility of you injuring Jason let alone killing him.

“Okay. Okay. I’ll stay with you.”

You both walked down to the cave, Jason told Bruce you were on your way and that this would be your solution until they were able to run more tests on the remnants of the serum in your blood. You gave Jason a quick kiss before stepping into an empty suit capsule, the air pockets at the top making it breathable, but still small. Jason held his breath when he saw you step into it, flashbacks of having to watch the gas put you to sleep coming back to him. His breathing got faster, his heartbeat raced quicker. No. No. Keep it together. Keep it together.

“You know, handsome, it’d be rude not to stare when your favorite person ever is literally on display.” You teased.

“Right, because it’s not like I stare all the time anyway.” He laughed.

You were both clearly masking your fear for what was to come, and maybe it would be distrastrous, but for now, Jason had you back, and that was more than enough for him.

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

Nobody really cares anymore (and the irony is that I actually like Civil War pretty well in general) but when I think about the quality of the writing that they offered us for Bucky Barnes, I still get just like. Actively angry.

Here's the setup: Steve is a hero, through and through. This plot requires him to do something that The Powers That Be deem a crime, but we're going to agree with Steve that it has to be done regardless. We need to see his actions not as a betrayal of his heroism, but the fulfillment of it. That's like, the fuckin plot of this Captain America movie: the world's evaluation of what a hero does is flawed, but Steve's isn't, he's Trustworthy (and therefore justified in placing his own moral judgments quite literally above the law). Is it a good idea to tell that story? Idk, very possibly not, but we're doing it! They picked the plot, not me, here we go!

The crime the writers have chosen to stake Steve's character on is that he's going to meddle in an international manhunt for a terrorist. It's against the law, so check. And eventually we learn that Bucky is innocent of this crime, so retroactively Steve's actions feel justified, but crucially at the time he acts, Steve doesn't know that. He's not acting to exonerate Bucky, or even to help him escape; he's interfering explicitly because he thinks law enforcement won't (probably can't, likely won't even try to) take Bucky alive. Steve fully expects Bucky to go to prison forever, he just has this one hope: if he breaks the law, fucks up the op, and gets there first, Bucky might not have to die.

Now, I think that's pretty good, on paper. It's a big swing that Steve takes, even knowing all eyes are already on him as a potential threat due to his unwillingness to sign the Sokovia Accords, and he does it for this incredibly small, incredibly subjective human experience: he just can't bear to see this murderer who used to be his friend gunned down like a dog. After all the help he's failed to give Bucky, he wants to save him from this one final brutality. Good stuff! Works beautifully with the overall theme of Steve's essential humanity and his ability to leverage it in the face of cruelty.

But what the movie obviously really wants isn't to frame this crime as Steve's emotions getting the best of him, because if that's what he's doing, then Tony is effectively right and the Sokovia Accords are fundamentally just -- nobody, not even Steve Freaking Rogers, can be trusted not to do crimes for selfish human reasons. That's what you would need oversight and punishment for. If Steve is just committing a crime because it's good for his friend, then the intractable moral struggle of the movie is solved and Steve is an asshole for insisting that the Accords can only interfere with his ability to act when it's "necessary." It's a Captain America movie, and the writers don't want to do that. So Steve has to be somehow correct to make this call completely on his own, even before he knows that Bucky isn't a terrorist. That's a writing problem!

The only way to solve this is to somehow convince the audience that it's even more wrong for Bucky to die. They have the groundwork laid -- the Winter Soldier is a killer but Bucky isn't, so if the Winter Soldier committed this crime, maybe it's still morally correct to save Bucky's life. And that of course is the angle the movie takes -- for all this to work, we have to believe that there's a Bucky, that he's not the reason any of this has happened, and that he doesn't deserve to pay for what the Winter Soldier is guilty of.

All of this is to say that the existence and nature of Bucky Barnes as a human character is vitally important to this movie. He has to be a person we hope and believe still exists, that we hope and believe is still separate from the Winter Soldier programming, and that we find worth all the massive physical and moral risks Steve takes on his behalf. All of this is to say, nothing matters more to this movie than establishing Bucky's character. It's literally the entire fucking ballgame, story wise and thematically.

And they do a criminally fucking terrible job of that. It's just. It's so bad, you guys. They build in a scene where Bucky has to prove he's himself to Steve -- THE WHOLE POINT, IT'S THE POINT OF THE MOVIE -- and what do they come up with? He knows Steve's mom's name, and a non-specific anecdote about Depression-Era shoe life hacks. Steve's like, oh, nobody could just know that, but 1) of course they could, the first is probably on Steve's Wikipedia page and the second could easily be a lucky guess, and B) this is the movie's One Big Chance to show us some particularity of who Bucky is, who he and Steve were together, why this has all been worth it and will still be worth what's coming up. Whatever Bucky says in this moment should break the audience, it should be so tender or distinctive or brave or poignant or thoughtful or something that we, in that moment, see the person that Steve would do anything for, and we get it. But the writers can't think of shit. They come up with Steve's mom's name.

And it's not an isolated problem. There's another moment right before the fight when they can connect over a shared memory, and again, the writers totally fail to come up with a memory that means something or conveys something or demonstrates something. They went to a carnival and Bucky like, blew all their money on a girl or whatever. But that's an irrelevant story! Bucky isn't being presented as a hothead or someone who never thinks about the future, that's not something the writers are trying to impress on us. None of this happened because Bucky is a fool for love or a hedonist who'd rather have a great night at the carnival than plan for the trip home. I guess those are character traits, but they're not tied to anything in any of the three movies we've seen him in! The story means nothing, at a climactic moment where everything hangs on the question of what Bucky is going to do in this conflict, the question of what kind of person he is.

Everything about Bucky's characterization is slapdash and superficial like that. He likes Steve. He likes fun, I guess. He's a good soldier but didn't really want to be a soldier the way Steve did. He likes Steve. His family seems to like Steve, too. Like, are you fucking kidding me with this? This is Net Zero Information. They are just simply not interested in Bucky being a distinctive person. I as the audience am just supposed to note that Steve likes him and transfer those emotions to my own hard-drive. He's a sexy lamp, and I'm not even attracted to him. He's just there for Steve to have an arc about, and I think it's criminal that over three films and god knows how many writers, nobody bothered to make him worth my emotional investment. He's got like 15 lines across the whole trilogy and they're mostly variations on "I'm Steve's good friend Bucky." I'm sure he is Steve's good friend Bucky, but that has fuckall to do with me! I'm supposed to feel things, I bought tickets to these movies!

It's lazy. It's sloppy. It's corner-cutting and at what these movies cost to make, I don't think they should be cutting corners, it's disrespectful. That shit would never fly in fanfiction.

Anyway I actually like Civil War. I just have to breathe into a paper bag and focus on Spider-Man when I get too exercised about this in particular.

[peterjakes]

Theon x Sansa - 'we unraveled a long time ago'

The Long Night is over. Sansa Stark is Lady of Winterfell. But she eagerly awaits news of Theon Greyjoy. Theon, who volunteered to protect Bran at the Godswood. Theon, who was moments away from death when he was saved. Theon, who could wake up at any moment.  

I actually enjoyed writing this one and it became longer than I thought but I think it works?

I wanted to explore what would have happened had theon lived after ep3 and explore the dynamic between theon and sansa.

Somehow this became very Sansa pov-centric, but I’m not entirely mad at that. I think it would be interesting to explore both Sansa and Theon povs, but we’ll see how it goes!

the title is taken from daisy jones and the six bc I'm currently obsessed.

realised the timeline is kinda off but lets just blame d&d for that. I can't remember too much from s8 and haven't rewatched it since it aired - currently on s7 for my rewatch so we can just ignore that :) 

Thank you for reading x

also posted on ao3; https://archiveofourown.org/works/45844339/chapters/115377547

Sansa was sitting by herself in the Great Hall. It seemed so empty now, when only a few weeks ago it was filled with such celebration. The Wildings were gone, the warriors, the soldiers. Jon and Arya, they were gone too. Now, it was just Sansa, at least for now. She needed this time for some peace, she needed time to think. She wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted to think about, or even needed to, but there was a sense that this was what she needed to do.  

The Long Night was over, some form of normality had started to grow in Winterfell again. The dead had been mourned; the bodies buried, and Winter had settled.  

No matter who came to give council to the Lady of Winterfell, there was only one person she wanted to see. She had visited his room twice since the battle ended, but he lay as still as he would if he was dead. But he was not dead. Theon Greyjoy was alive. He had been saved. Somehow, after everything that had happened, he had made it. Sansa hadn’t seen the scars or destruction the Night King had brought onto Theon, but she knew Maester Wolkan had worked hard to make sure he stayed alive. Sansa only knew of how his body lay by the Godswood in the snow. How for a moment, he was almost taken along with the rest of the dead. How his own blood surrounded and engulfed him. But he had lived. Sansa hadn’t had to bury and mourn the one person she couldn’t bear to.  

The first time Sansa had visited his chambers, Maester Wolkan had suggested against it. Though he had cleaned him up, it was unlikely Theon would wake up any time soon. It was true that Theon seemed as if he was sleeping, a peaceful dream that he would soon wake up from. That, much to Sansa’s dismay, did not happen. The scars on his face were far less bloody than Sansa expected, though she imagined the damage was worse further down below. The Hero of the Godswood was what they called Theon. She wondered how he would take it. Not well, she assumed. Theon never saw himself as a hero, even after everything he had done for Sansa. And what he made up for. Sitting by his bedside for the first time, it felt a little awkward for Sansa. The only time they had ever been this close was after escaping Ramsey; Sansa had taken Theon’s hand and hadn’t let go until she was forced to, she found solace in his embrace, his touch. But now things were different. It was true that Sansa had needed Theon more than ever. And maybe she still needed him now. She needed him to wake up. Needed him to reassure her that everything was alright, that he was here, alive, and well. Theon was alive, but Sansa wasn’t so sure if he was well. If he would ever be well. There was a possibility that Theon wouldn’t wake up, no matter how much Sansa didn’t want to believe or think that.  

Sansa had also never been in Theon’s chambers before. This was his childhood bedroom, the one he had grown up in and the one he had hated. Sansa never saw this room growing up, she never saw it when she arrived back at Winterfell as Ramsey’s bride and knew Theon never occupied it. Ramsey wouldn’t allow it. It was relatively bare; any sign of Theon had been washed away. This could have been anyone’s room. It could have been Robb’s. Jon’s. Bran’s. A stranger would have no clue. But it belonged to Theon, and it would do until he awoke.  

Sansa wasn’t entirely sure what she should be doing. It was true she wanted to be in Theon’s company, to be by his side and to make sure he was safe, to be there if he was to wake up. But that wasn’t happening. There were things to be done, plans to be made. But Sansa didn’t want to be doing any of that. It would only be a distraction. She could speak to him, but what would she say? There were so many things Sansa could say to Theon but forming the words and allowing them to escape her was trickier than expected. So instead, Sansa sat and watched. She sat and read, sometimes out loud, hoping to stir something up inside Theon. She watched the snow fall outside the window. She watched the raven's fly pass. And she watched Theon, looking as peaceful as he could be. She waited. Waited for him. And she would continue to wait until she could no longer.

The second time was far easier for Sansa. The scars had started to heal, Maester Wolkan had worked his magic. Sansa could hear Theon’s breathing more clearly now; it was calmer and not so ragged. She wondered what his dreams were filled with, if he was even dreaming at all. Knowing it was unlikely that Theon could hear her, she told him about Winterfell. About the Long Night. About the people they had lost. About the people they had saved. She spoke about how things had changed, for her, for her family and for Westeros. It was likely that she would have to repeat all of this if Theon awoke. No. When he awoke. But with him unconscious, Sansa allowed herself to be that little more vulnerable. There were things she would never dare say with him awake. Things she could barely admit to herself.  

Thinking back to when she walked into the Great Hall and found Theon standing there, pledging his alliance and his life for Winterfell, for her, it did something to Sansa. At the time, she wasn’t quite sure what that was. All she knew was that Theon had come home, he’d come back. And before she could stop herself, the two were embracing, as they had before, but it felt different this time. The feel of Theon’s tight curls on her soft cheeks, the warmth of his touch, the chill of his breath on Sansa’s skin. Sansa didn’t want to let Theon go, not now he’d come back for Winterfell, for her. It was all a little overwhelming. But Sansa had time to think, and those thoughts always led back to Theon.  

And before The Long Night, when she didn’t want to spend it with anyone else, but him. They sat together, huddled over steaming drinks. Quick glances and soft smiles filled their time together. Sansa felt like she was a young girl again, dreaming of a life with the Prince of Pyke. It was nice to have just a moment of normality with Theon. He told her what had happened since they had gone their separate ways. He gave his opinions on Jon and the Dragon Queen. The shame he felt for deserting his sister and saving himself. In turn, Sansa spoke about her time since being back home. How odd being Lady of Winterfell felt, stepping into her mother’s shoes. Being reunited with her siblings but knowing it could never be as it was.  

And then their time together was over. The Night King was approaching. The time for talking was over. Sansa was required to make her way to the crypt, Theon to the Godswood. She didn’t want to say goodbye, it was the last thing she wanted to do. But she knew she couldn’t stay out in the open. And Theon had a job to do. It was guilt, regret, that had told him to volunteer. Told him he must protect Bran. Sansa could see that; she knew why he spoke out. And Theon had completed his mission. He had protected Bran, held the Night King off long enough. Finally, Theon had made up for what he had done to the Starks, to Winterfell, to the North. Sansa hadn’t held him to that since he saved her from Ramsey, but she understood it didn’t matter how anyone else felt. Only Theon. Only he could control that now.

There was a part of Sansa that thought she could sense Theon feeling the same, not wanting to part. But they both had a duty, a part to play and they couldn’t ignore that. The two went their separate ways, with Sansa having no idea if she would see Theon again. If she would see him alive. If he would ever wake up. But Sansa didn’t want to think like that, she couldn’t, she wouldn’t let herself.  

So, as it happened, Sansa only managed to visit Theon twice. It was Maester Wolkan who had interrupted her thought. Rather appreciatively, Sansa greeted the Maester with one of her small smiles. Her thoughts had been filled with Theon, and she needed a break. There was only so much she could do, so much she could think and feel. There were things she knew she would eventually need to face, but they could wait. For what Maester Wolkan had to say was far more important.  

“Lady Stark.”  

“Yes?”

“Theon Greyjoy. He’s awake.” Maester Wolkan had barely finished his sentence when Sansa rose from her chair. It took almost everything for her not to sprint up to where Theon lay. She managed to compose herself whilst following the Maester to the dimmed corridor and was left alone to enter the room.

Sansa lightly tapped her fingers on the door to the bedchambers. She didn’t wait for an answer, knowing she would be entering regardless. But she forced herself to stay back, not wanting to intrude but her curiosity took the better of her.  

“Lady Sansa.” Theon croaked, watching Sansa as she entered and closed the door. She allowed her fingers to linger on the doorknob before turning around. Theon had started to move, as if he wanted to sit up, but quickly stopped himself, feeling the force of his injuries.  

Theon did not look his best. Though Sansa had seen him since being returned from the Godswood, seeing him awake was a completely different sensation. The scar on his face had almost disappeared, but that didn’t seem to help his appearance. Those full, healthy cheeks Sansa had seen when Theon returned to Winterfell only a few weeks ago had been replaced by something sunken and sullen. It was true that Theon hadn’t eaten since the Godswood, he hadn’t done anything since then. It reminded Sansa of the Theon she was faced with in Ramsey’s kennels, something so strange and foreign. A slight stubble had grown since Sansa last saw him, but if anything, that added to his appearance, and Sansa wasn’t ashamed to admit that. Bloodied bandages were covering his forearms, and Sansa had made a mental note to ask the Maester to replace them. But regardless of all of that, regardless of how terrible Theon may have looked or even felt in that moment, he was awake, he was alive. Theon eyes were looking right into Sansa’s, they were looking with a softness that Sansa hadn’t noticed before. They were looking at Sansa, as if nothing else existed at that moment.  

“You don’t have to call me that.”

“Yes, I do.” Lady Sansa. Not Sansa, why did that feel so foreign? Why, from Theon’s lips, did that feel so wrong? That kind of formality was not something Sansa enjoyed. She wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted, what she had expected. But it wasn’t that. Theon knew Sansa. Sansa knew Theon. But Lady Sansa? Lady of Winterfell? Sansa was not sure Theon knew them.  

“You never used to. You didn’t call Robb a lord.”

“Well, he wasn’t. Not until...” Theon’s eyes glazed over, as if he was reliving a memory. Sansa didn’t want to relive that memory. Joffrey gleefully speaking to the crowd. The crowd shouting. Her father’s face as he realised his fate. Sansa herself being held back. The noise, all the noise, was unbearable.  

“No, that’s true. How are you feeling?”  

“Like death.” Yes, Sansa thought he would. He could have only been awake mere minutes before he was greeted by Sansa. On her last visit, she had informed Maester Wolkan she would be told the moment he awoke. This was important. She had to be one of the first faces Theon saw. She wondered if this was what he wanted, wondered who he wanted to greet him. Would he be unhappy being disturbed? Would he have rather be left to his own devices before being questioned? Or maybe Theon would have asked to see Sansa. Maybe he would have made a special request. Or perhaps that was just a fantasy of Sansa. One that never even existed.  

“Yes, Maester Wolkan said you were moments away from death.”

“What stopped me?”

“I wonder.” What had stopped Theon? What had stopped Theon from letting go, from accepting he would die in the Godswood. Their last conversation before the battle, Sansa could tell that was unravelling through Theon’s mind. He was preparing to die, to sacrifice himself for Bran, for Winterfell, for the North. So why hadn’t he? What had brought him back?

Sansa moved herself closer to the bed, wanting to close the space between the two. She pulled a lone stool out to sit by Theon’s bedside, and placed her hand on the bedsheet, only inches away from Theon’s. This was a deliberate choice.  

“Thank you, Theon.” Sansa had realised she hadn’t thanked Theon, at least not properly. She was sure he knew how grateful she was, how grateful they all were. He had paid in full for the things he had done. There was no need to feel any regret, remorse, or guilt. There was no point to it. Or that was what Sansa wanted, even if it wasn’t true. She understood it was hard, that it would take time. But they couldn’t be angry forever. And Theon couldn’t feel sorry forever.  

“What for?” Theon had moved his head to face Sansa, his eyes watching her closely. Sansa wondered how he could ask such a question, how he could believe she shouldn’t be thankful, shouldn’t be grateful for what he had done.  

“For everything. For me, for Bran. You didn’t have to volunteer, but you did.”

“I did, to make things right.” There was no point arguing this. This was something Theon had always thought, this was something Theon was always going to do. No matter what Sansa said, no matter how many times Sansa tried to make him understand. Sansa understood the battle Theon had with himself daily, more so now than ever. When Jon spoke to him at Dragonstone, when Jon told him he forgave for what he could, told him he was both a Stark and a Greyjoy, even that couldn’t change his mind. Sansa knew this. She tried to understand. She never saw Theon as anything else but part of them all. Growing up, Theon was always there. He was cocky, arrogant and sometimes a little rude. But Sansa thought he would always stand by Robb’s side. They all did. Perhaps that was what made the betrayal so hard. But that was in the past. The Starks that could forgive him, had. But maybe that still wasn’t enough. Even after swearing to protect Bran, Theon still felt guilt and regret. He hadn’t died for Bran, hadn’t died for Winterfell. But Sansa didn’t want that, she wouldn’t let it happen.  

“Things are right, they are.” Emphasising her point, Sansa’s eyes seemed to trail away from Theon’s and down to where his injuries lay. She knew roughly whereabouts Theon was stabbed, but looking at him now, it wasn’t obviously clear. “Where did they get you?” Her curiosity had gotten the better of her, but there was no going back now.  

“Just here,” Theon gestured towards his chest and abdomen, groaning ever so slightly as he did. “It’s not a pretty sight.” It was as if he knew what Sansa wanted. She wasn’t entirely sure she actually wanted to see the injuries, but there was a part of her that was interested.  

“I’m sure I’ve seen worse.” Sansa wasn’t entirely sure that was true. Yes, she had seen many things, many things she wished she had not. The flayed would often plague her mind, as would the horrors she had seen in King’s Landing. But perhaps that wasn’t the same.

“Sansa.” A sternness appeared from Theon, one Sansa hadn’t heard before, or at least not recently. He looked more serious now, and there it was. Theon was still protecting Sansa, even after everything. Even when she didn’t need protection. It was as if he couldn’t help himself, as if the vow he had made to protect Winterfell included her too. Of course, it did.  

“Theon.” Sansa couldn’t help but look directly at Theon now, trying to get some sense of what he was thinking. He had used her name, not her title this time. It felt different, different in a way Sansa wasn’t quite sure of.  

Theon’s eyes avoided Sansa, staring directly down to the edge of the bed he lay within. “What’s happened? What have I missed?”

“Your uncle, Euron, he’s dead. Gone.” Sansa blurted out. This was the first thing that came to mind. They’d received word that Ironborn Kingslayer was dead, ironically killed by another Kingslayer. How poetic. This would be good for Theon, that was one of Sansa’s first thoughts when she had heard the news. His sister could go on to rule the Iron Islands with no competition. But what that would mean for Theon, Sansa was not so sure. Or maybe she was but didn’t like the answer.  

“Who-”

“Jaime Lannister.”

Theon nodded but said nothing else about this revelation. His eyebrows furrowed for a moment, as if he was thinking hard. But they soon softened, accepting that his uncle was dead, and he would not be coming back. What this meant for Theon, Sansa was not sure. His sister was the rightful ruler of The Iron Islands, with no one contesting it. This meant Theon could go home, if he wanted. Sansa could admit that this would not be ideal. Not only for her own selfish reasons, but looking at Theon in his current state, she couldn’t imagine how much that would help.  

“The dragon Queen too. And Cersei. King’s Landing...” They were all gone. So much destruction in such a short space of time. Sansa hadn’t seen King’s Landing, but Arya... Her younger sister was there, she saw it all. She travelled back to Winterfell covered in blood, covered in dust and harboring some awful visions of what had happened there. Sansa almost couldn’t quite believe it. She never expected it to end well for anyone. The fight for the Throne was never going to be pretty, but the Starks had never cared about that. Her father had involved himself in those politics and he had lost his head. This was never their fight.  

“Maester Wolkan mentioned bits and pieces, but...I wasn’t very present. I think I kept drifting in and out of sleep. Some things are blurred, others seem like a dream. I’m not sure what happened and what didn’t. It was almost like before.” Sansa knew what Theon had meant by ‘before’. Ramsey. The two hadn’t spoken about it, not since Theon had arrived back at Winterfell. No sooner had Theon pledged to fight for Winterfell than it was time for the battle. They only had a moment or so alone, together. The subject of Ramsey hadn’t come up, and Sansa didn’t want to bring it up. That was all in the past. Ramsey was gone. But Theon, Theon was here. Theon had come back, he’d come back to the place that held so many memories, awful memories. Just as Sansa had. And Theon had come back for Winterfell, for Sansa. He said so himself. To fight for Winterfell. If you’ll have me. Those were his words.  

“I believe you were given a sleeping draught, while they...stitched you up.” Sansa didn’t know the ins and outs of what they had done to save Theon, but clearly it had worked, and she was grateful for that. She would be eternally grateful, more than anyone would know, more than she would allow anyone to know.  

“Probably for the best.” Theon winced as he moved himself, trying to get more comfortable. Sansa couldn’t imagine any movement would be particularly useful. Her eyes darted around Theon, watching as he became breathless. It wasn’t very pleasant seeing Theon like this. It was different to before. The Theon she had seen under Ramsey’s control was not here. That Theon was gone. The Theon she had grown up watching following Robb, telling jokes and practicing archery was not here either. This Theon was different, this Theon was new. But the strong, fresh-faced Theon that had come home to Sansa was now weak, tired and restless. She didn’t like to see him this way, in pain and almost confused.

“Yes.” Sansa agreed, unsure where the conversation would go. She almost felt nervous, which was an odd sensation. The two occupants in the room had known each other a long time. They had endured so much together. And yet Sansa was feeling ways she didn’t quite understand.  

“Have you heard word from Yara?” Yara, his sister. Of course, he wanted to know about his sister. Sansa felt almost stupid for not realising this. Her thoughts and feelings about Theon had been selfish. Even if Theon had come to fight for Winterfell, his loyalties still lied with her and the Ironborn. They always would. Sansa wondered if his loyalties were still split between his family and the North.  

“A raven was sent after the battle. After...”

“After what?”

“They thought you were dead. Everyone. It wasn’t until they started to move the bodies that they noticed. If we hadn’t...” Sansa shook her head, pulling her hands away from the bed and onto her lap. Her eyes diverted from Theon’s gaze and to where her fingers lay. If they hadn’t, if they couldn’t have saved Theon in time...It was something Sansa didn’t want to think about.  

“The gods have been merciful again.”

“I don’t think it was the gods.” It wasn’t the gods who had saved Theon. It wasn’t the gods who had protected Bran. It wasn’t the gods who had killed the Night King. The gods played no part in any of what had happened.  

“I didn’t think I would see her again. I gave her my word to be by her side but...” The words seemed to escape Theon. Perhaps it was still too much. Perhaps there were things Theon could not speak of, even to Sansa. The guilt was clear, even now, after everything Theon had done. Sansa imagined he would hold onto that guilt for a long while.  

“You will, she will come. You’re her brother, whatever has happened.” Theon sighed, trying to move again. Sansa’s hand found its way to Theon’s forearm, placing it there ever so slightly. She hadn’t expected Theon to flinch at her touch, but she supposed it made sense. She wasn’t even sure why she had done it, why she had touched him. But what else could she do? How else could she help? She wanted the pain to stop, but she was powerless in that. She wanted to show Theon she was here and was would always be there, as she wanted him to be for her. But perhaps that was asking too much, too soon.

“It hurts?” Sansa realised as soon as the words had escaped her mouth that it was a relatively stupid question. She couldn’t imagine the pain, but sometimes the physical pain was not even half as bad as the mental pain. Sansa hadn’t much experience with physical pain, but mental pain, she knew about that only too well. Pain that stayed with you, even when the sun had disappeared, and the world was asleep. The kind of pain that would haunt you in your dreams and not leave until you woke up screaming.  

“Terribly.” Theon mused, and Sansa could sense a flicker of sarcasm in his voice. At least Theon wasn’t completely emotionless, though being stabbed in the chest could do that to a person. She was glad that hadn’t happened. That there were still parts of Theon left.  

“Well, they almost got you in the heart. It’s bound to ache a bit.”

“Only a bit?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve learnt many things, but my knowledge about a knife to the chest is relatively limited.” Theon smiled at Sansa; a smile Sansa didn’t think she would see again. It was small and almost accidental, but it was a smile. She was glad it was her who made Theon smile. The first real smile she had seen in a long while. There was a part of Sansa that never wanted to leave this room, wanting to stay sitting with Theon for all eternity. There were things she wanted to say to him, wanted to tell him. But her throat seemed to tighten, her lips became dry and her mind blank. Would Theon even want to hear those things? Would he want to listen? Sansa was still unsure what those things were. But perhaps they would have to wait.  

“I should let you rest. I’m sorry for pushing my way in.” Sansa returned Theon’s smile and started to rise from the stool she had been occupying. Brushing herself down, trying to rid of the non-existent dust from her dress, Sansa could feel Theon’s eyes on her. If he wanted her to stay, he hadn’t made it known and that told Sansa everything she needed to know in that moment.  

“Don’t be sorry, Lady Sansa. Thank you.” There it was again, Lady Sansa. There was a part of Sansa that was irritated by this, but she wasn’t entirely sure why. It was as if Theon was forcing the niceties, the formalities between them. She wasn’t going to call him Lord Theon, that just sounded strange. But he had called her Sansa. This was what confused her. The forcefulness of her title.

Trying to get rid of these thoughts, Sansa nodded towards Theon and made her way out, making sure to not turn back as she did. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Sansa had wanted to stay for longer, like she had on her last visit to the bedchambers but couldn’t bring herself to do it. She could sense Theon was tired. He had only just woken up after all, and he needed space. Sansa needed to give that to him. It all seemed a little overwhelming, seeing Theon lie there so battered and bruised. Sansa wasn’t entirely sure what she had expected, but it was not that. And how was she expected to act? She wasn’t just Ned Stark’s daughter now. She wasn’t Ramsey or Tyrion’s wife. She wasn’t Jon’s sister. She was Lady Stark, she had so much on her shoulders. There were certain ways of doing things, as her mother so often told her growing up. But being in Theon’s presence, seeing him there, seeing him alive...She needed some time alone, some more time. She needed time to think.  

She was not given time to think however, as Brienne managed to corner her in the courtyard. Sansa wasn’t particularly angry about this. She liked spending time with Brienne and had found herself asking for her counsel more often in the past few days.  

“M’lady.” The knight nodded, gesturing towards the edge of the courtyard for the two to walk together.  

Sansa followed, though her eyes darted back to the path she had taken, the path that had led her away from Theon. “Brienne. Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” Brienne answered rather abruptly, avoiding Sansa’s eye. Clearly, everything was not alright, though Sansa didn’t pry. She didn’t feel it was her place, though she wished Brienne would confine in her. “How is he?”

“Fine, I think. As good as he could be. He’s alive, that’s what’s important. He didn’t leave us...” Sansa hadn’t realised how sharp those last words were. This was a habit of hers, appearing colder than she had intended. Maybe it wasn’t always an accident, particularly when it came to her siblings. But Sansa would never want to do that to Brienne, not after everything she had done. The look on Brienne’s face in that moment and in certain moments before allowed Sansa to understand. She understood what the so-called Kingslayer meant to Brienne. It was odd, really. How someone so difficult and so distance could be connected. Sansa’s thoughts drifted to Theon once again, maybe Brienne and Sansa were more similar than she thought. Both Theon and Jamie Lannister had done terrible things; they had been constantly reminded of those terrible things but had paid the price. Jaime more than Theon.  

“I didn’t mean-”

“M’lady, please, I know.” Brienne seemingly forced herself to give Sansa a smile, indicating that she wasn’t angry and understood. The knight had battled with her feelings for Ser Jaime ever since they first met. It was the longest and hardest battle she had ever endured. But the battle was over. It was over the moment he left her for King’s Landing. “I’m glad for you.”

Sansa wasn’t so sure why Brienne was glad. She was Lady of Winterfell; she had survived the Long Night and so had her family. But this was already known. Theon...he had lived, and of course, Sansa was happy, she was almost gleeful. But Sansa was sure she was relatively skilled at hiding her feelings. This was something she had learned to do. But maybe Brienne knew her better than she thought. Brienne understood this battle Sansa was having with herself.  

“I’m not sure what to do.” Exasperated, Sansa was realising how tired she was feeling. The past few weeks had taken it out of her. And it was true, she didn’t know what to do. Not about Theon, not about Winterfell, not about anything. She felt almost powerless, as if any decision she would make wouldn’t help.  

“Maester Wolkan has it under control.” Brienne nodded, trying to reassure Sansa, though she imagined it wouldn’t be much use. “I wanted to ask, for a favor?”

“Brienne, you don’t have to ask me. Whatever you need...”

“Not for me, for Pod. I ask that, if the time comes, you allow him to offer his services to you.”

“And what about you? You’re not leaving?” Sansa stopped in her tracks. She wasn’t sure whether she would be able to manage someone else leaving her. She had gotten used to Brienne’s company, and she enjoyed it. They had all suffered, that was true, but surely that was all the more reason to stay together.

“I would never leave you m’lady. But...”

“You offered to protect me, Brienne. And you have done so far more than I could have ever imagined.” This was true, Brienne had made sure Sansa had got to The Wall safely. She had travelled to her uncle, The Blackfish. She had stayed in Winterfell with her. She had fought the dead. Sansa couldn’t think of anyone more loyal.  

“Your mother...” Brienne sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. It was clear she still harbored some guilty feelings. Still felt some responsibility for what happened to Sansa’s mother.  

“You kept your promise. But I can’t hold you to that, now. Things have changed.” Sansa didn’t want to keep Brienne away from what she wanted. She couldn’t do that, not to someone who had protected Sansa do loyally. Not to someone who had exceeded her oath and more. “I won’t pretend I don’t want you to leave, but I understand.” It felt selfish keeping Brienne here, and Sansa didn’t want to do that.  

“I feel badly, m’lady.”

“Please, don’t. We should all do what we must, what we want. I’m only realising that now. So many chances have been lost...”

“You have a second chance, Lady Sansa, a lot more than most. You need to take it.”  

Sansa wasn’t entirely sure what Brienne had meant by that. But she was sure in time she would find out.  

[staytruetonorthch]

08.24.23

Honorable Mentions

Three posts simply were not enough for last week, but alas, I am only one person and my attention span is only so long (ADHD kicks my ass on the daily, but we soldier on through the obsessive minutes of productivity and the hours long spells of procrastination). That’s all to say, I’d love to rapid fire through a few thoughts before tomorrow’s drops because it’s going to be a doozy this week. Jaguar II, Yours Truly Deluxe, Miley, and if I’m feeling generous, I might even give Aubrey a listen. Let’s hop in >>>

Better Things – Aespa: I personally like this sound on Aespa. It fits their voices well; they shine the most when they can flex their vocal technique. It’s clean and the video reflects the brightness. Now, does it suffer from the SM Ent. trademark tone shift and break*? Absolutely. But as per usual, once you get past the first listen and you expect it, it’s not as jarring, [*I’ll go into more depth about this in a different post but iykyk]

HOT TO GO! – Chappell Roan: This blurb is more of an excuse to celebrate the fact that an album is finally coming for the Pink Pony Club. For all of the girls, gays, and theys, if you’re not on Chappell, don’t walk, RUN. After a string of clever, charming, and just damn catchy singles, she’s finally announced her debut album. HTG! Is just as fun and poppy as the rest boasting a chant along chorus that is impossible not to join in. This is a win for people who a) are hot, b) love pink, and c) are kind of annoying, but did I mention the hot part? Go listen. 

Rainy Days – V: I’ve touched on this a little, but I’m just so charmed by V as an artist. I think there’s a clear vision here and it’s a little melancholy, but so warm it feels like the sadness is immediately being nursed by the most comforting hug. Some solo stans are upset about the general reception or lack thereof, but I think we’ve got to look at a few key factors here– Taehyung is doing the promo he wants. He’s mentioned that the company would do more, but he just wants to take the simple route, which I believe is indicative of the genre. Point blank period, R&B does not get the same reception as Pop songs. It’s just the nature of the beast. As I’ve mentioned, some songs are formulated to be radio smashes and they absolutely kill because that’s what they’re designed to do. V is making the music he wants knowing that there’s going to be a muted response and he’s cultivating a space for that. You either rock with it, or you don’t. I for one cannot wait to be cozy listening to this album in the fall. Which brings me to my one grievance: this is not the music to release (even pre-release) in Summer. Pumpkin spice lattes aren’t even available yet, and we’re looking for rainy days. In Min Hee Jin  we trust (I know a lot of people have issues with her, and I probably will never go out of my way to speak about NwJns because some of them are minors and I do not wish to engage minors, but you cannot deny that she curated a great second mini album for them that will transition from Summer to Fall seamlessly) and I know this album is going to be very well produced and he doesn’t necessarily have a ton of say in when he is able to release for various reasons, but I do wish the winter bear was able to reclaim his season. 

New Dance– XG: This one is kind of cheating timeline wise, but I don’t have a ton of thoughts. The song is a well produced homage to the early 2000s hip hop we all (hopefully) know and love. The easy acoustic rhythm and well handled rap verses are easy listening at its finest. I wish this was the follow-up to ‘Grl Gang’ instead of ‘TGIF’ so that it could’ve been released a little earlier in the Summer (I guess I’m not getting over this season thing, but I really think it makes the difference.) There’s a lot of potential here, maybe even another 2000s legend collab could’ve happened earlier in the Summer. Tap Nelly to give you a verse a la ‘Ride With Me’ which this song clearly calls back to. It works for XG to draw on nostalgia to draw in their audience.  Once you’ve got the eyes, experiment on the album which isn’t coming for a while yet. 

Now for the real rapid fire>>>

Unreal Unearth – Hozier: When the woodland fairy king comes a callin’, I answer. There are some bangers on this one. 

AR - EP – Addison Rae: I only listened to the Charli XCX feature because of course, but I’m a little intrigued to listen to it? From what I can tell, the gays have claimed Ms. Addison, which I’m not fully sold on, but I can’t say the marketing isn’t there. Might listen for science. 

[TBR] Snow Angel – Renee Rapp: I like her as a person, therefore I need to give this the time of day before I listen to Addison. I’m always going to favor queer representation over a cosign. 

So much music, so little time, but I’m so enamored with the machine. Until tomorrow x

[angstymdzsthoughts]

hello!! i love this blog and i had this thought a few months ago so pls bear with me. have u watched doctor strange 2?? there's this thing called dreamwalking, it's a forbidden technique that allows the caster to possess their alternatives selves, like, if you are you in this dimension, you can possess you from any other dimensions. now, imagine after wwx death, lwj find some book in the library with instructions to dreamwalking, at first he doesn't really care but, after some time, he starts longing for wwx more and more, until he decides to use it. now, he can go to any dimension where his wei ying is alive. but he can't stay, nor can he go definitely. he resingns himself to only look at wwx from a distance, never getting close so not to let the lwj hes possessing know anything. but he gets greedy and stays more and more, specifically on this one dimension very close to his, where he is just a teenager and wwx is a student in cloud recess, he relishes in the little acts, like watching wwx copy rules, seeing his little pranks, watching as the man he loved so much and last saw as a shadow of himself smiled and laughed, innocent to the suffering the future holds. he longs to hold this wwx and never let him go, so he stays. he slowly changes their relationship, getting closer and closer to his love, it couldn't be better. (this is getting long im sorry)

the thing is, while he thinks no one notices the difference, two people do. the first one, himself. while lwj goes around pretending to be 16 again, there's a lwj that cannot move inside of him(lets kindly call him lwj2), lwj2 can only watch as an imposter takes control of his life and the only person who knows is himself. he even got to take back control once, when lwj was too tired and lost control, because of that now he sleeps jailed inside the jingshi, with a talisman he does not recognize (wwx made it in the war, maybe), he can only sleep, and when he wakes up, lwj takes control again.

the other person is wwx, who was actually really happy that lwj wanted to be his friend, until he saw the possessives looks the other gave him and realized maybe he doesn't need this friend so much.

this can go a lot of ways, maybe lwj finds a way to physically cross dimensions, maybe lwj2 frees himself and find wwx for help, maybe no one notices as lwj slowly kills lwj2 inside himself.

thank you for the attention and sorry for the kong ask, i got carried away. thanks <3

I actually did see dr strange 2 because my nephew wanted to see it for his birthday. It's the first marvel film I've seen since the winter soldier and I was a little bit lost with the references to other movies lol.

I really like the idea of LWJ finding out that dreams are glimpses of your alternative self. I can see him jumping around universes looking for one where he and WWX are living a happy life together. He keeps visiting the one where they are teenagers and eventually decides to make his own happy life with WWX.

[hansensgirl]

i’m in the water.

summary. | He’s in the wind, and you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.

warnings. | non/dubcon, smut, angst, protectiveness, kidnapping (implied), stockholm syndrome, obsessiveness, death/violence, dark themes, DDLG undertones, creampie kink, choking, piss kink (both pee), degradation, pet play undertones, p in v sex, Master kink, dacryphilia, crawling, slapping, hair pulling, face fucking, boot riding, orgasm denial, spitting, gagging, manhandling, praise, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.5k

pairings. | Dark!Winter Soldier x Naive!Reader.

a/n. | please heed the warnings! i hope you enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (and i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. they’re both very hydrated! this takes place in the 90’s! thank you so much @asadmarveltrashbag and @mypoisonedvine for proof reading for me ilysm!!

From the day you were born, you always felt as though your legs are broken. Always needing crutches throughout your life to hold you up, always needing support. But you never really had these crutches, so you'd always drag your hands against the brick walls to support yourself. Vulnerable, breaking away at the edges, falling down. Nothing kind ever came, and it stays the same for a while.

So maybe that’s why you lean into his icy cold touch. So abrasive and yet so caring. His aspects are juxtaposed to each other, just like in those Magritte paintings your art teacher would show you. She was always a kind lady, but you don’t care enough about her to wonder where she is in life now. She was kind to you, though, so you hope that she isn’t suffering like you are.

Your goosebumps raise for the fifth time in this painfully slow hour.

“Are you cold, кролик?” he asks even though he knows the answer. You hum. You always do. Your voice doesn’t raise in an affirmation. It stays flat; he knows what that means. “Thinking again?” he gruffly presses, squeezes your bare arms. The thin, grey shirt with torn sleeves does nothing to protect your body. But why do you ask for protection against the man who has done everything for you?

“Why… Why do people believe that grey is a boring colour?” you ask him, looking around the dark cell that surrounds you. Soldat grunts, not knowing what to say. “I think it’s quite beautiful. All colours have different shades, yes, but there’s something about grey. Each shade comes with a different emotion. Don’t you think so?” you ask him, looking down to your lap.

A carrot toy sits there. It’s filled with cotton balls from the medical room, by his request. “Yes…” He bites the tip of his tongue, not sure what to say because the Soldat only has a few emotions and a few words. “Why can’t we get a different wall colour?” you question him, turning around to face the man.

“It’s not allowed,” he reminds you. You feel like you’re experiencing déjà-vu, but then again, the days have blurred together so well that you can’t tell if the tape is being put on rewind already. You have to assume that your celluloid scenes are fading away along with your sanity. It’s torn at the seams. Threads hanging that just need to be ripped or cut out.

“Beige would look lovely…” you point out solemnly. The Soldat doesn’t know what shade of beige you’re thinking of, but he believes it would be beautiful nonetheless. “I… have a mission,” he tells you after a while. You hum in that same monotonous tone again, so he squeezes your arm even tighter. “When, Master?” you curiously ask, only now taking in his words.

“Tonight. Approximately at twenty-one hours,” he informs you in that mechanic voice of his that you hate. It makes you feel more trapped and vulnerable, even though there’s quite literally a chip in the back of your neck. “How long?” you ask him softly, a frown already beginning to display itself on your face.

He doesn’t like it when you frown. He prefers the lines that your smile provides over the lines your frown forces. That innocent glint in your eyes shines a bit, flickering like a dull light on the verge of completely blowing. Though it’s not much, it’s still something. And when it goes away, his entire being is filled with darkness.

You’re the light of his life, the fire of his loins.

“Not sure. Extraction of information. Senators and mayors…” He begins to ramble, and you shake your head. “Sorry, кролик,” he apologizes as he notices how uncomfortable you’re starting to get. You hum again. He wonders if you were a bird in your past life, perhaps a hummingbird, to be more exact. Or maybe even a swan or a dove because you’re just as beautiful as they are, if not more.

“You know how to behave, right? Потому что ты мой хороший маленький кролик?” he asks, and you don’t understand the second question, but you understand the former. “I know, Master,” you breathe, an airy ending to your words. “You’ll be good, кролик?” he questions one more time, and you lazily nod. You’re tired. Your body moves at a drowsy pace, and you don’t like it.

You don’t want to sleep, though. Scared that if you shut your eyes for too long, the monsters will come back, and Soldat won’t be able to save you. He always saves you. You’re his damsel, constantly in distress, locked away in a gilded cage. But he tells you it’s not a gilded cage. It’s not a run-down cell built in the fifties. It’s your home, even though you haven’t known what home is like for a while.

“I’ll always be good for you, Master. Please don’t leave for long. I get lonely easily,” you express in small bits of sadness and distress. “I know, кролик, я знаю,” Soldat says as he hugs you closer. You tilt your head backwards and let it lull on his shoulder. “I’ll be back as soon as possible,” he promises, and you know it’s not true because he never fulfills it. “But my carrot can’t keep me company for all those hours… Please stay? Please?” you plead with tears welling in your eyes.

“Я могу составить ей хорошую компанию,” the soldier standing outside the cell mutters under his breath, earning a few snickers from his coworkers. I can keep her in good company, is what he said. And it’s truly unfortunate that the guards have forgotten that the Soldat — the Asset — has super-hearing. Their laughter dies down into sighs, and Winter’s chest begins to heave.

He puffs up like the big bad wolf he is, and he tosses you to the side like a rag doll. You watch him as he strides his way over to the guards. Each step carries the weight of the Winter Soldier, the one who’s ready to kill whoever is in his sight. Except for you. His bionic hand reaches through the metal bars that separate him from the outside world.

He wraps his fingers around the guard’s neck, and he squeezes his throat tightly. As Winter crushes the guard’s windpipe, you watch him behind slightly squinted eyelids. Tears blur your eyesight, and you remember that time when you were holding off the tears so well, you couldn't see the HYDRA van driving ahead of you.

Maybe if you could control your emotions a little better, you wouldn’t be here.

But then again, where would you be without the Soldat? Miserable, stuck in the worst parts of town without anyone. Having to drag your hands across those brick walls, again and again. Surviving on your own, teetering on the edge of death. Just like these men at the hands of the Soldat.

The crunching of bones and the screams of men are all blocked out for you. You focus on Soldat’s arm whirring in the most satisfying harmony you’ve heard in the past two years. Other than the orchestra you both have managed to make almost every day. But you still cup your hands over your ears.

Winter pulls a knife from the guard’s limp body. That very same knife ends up inside his heart, stopping it from pumping. The guards begin shooting at Winter, but he easily shields himself with the metal arm. It goes silent, but you keep your hands over your ears. Muffled talking steps in place of the silence, and you look up to see members of HYDRA staring at your Winter and you.

“Солдат, Что ты натворил?” One of the head agents asks. You believe his name is Vasily Karpov because that is what Winter has told you. “The… The guard said something about my кролик. He’s not supposed to,” Winter explains, looking to the ground. Karpov mutters a chain of curse words under his breath that you’re not too happy about. One of the other agents asks him to speak up, and he snaps.

“Just get him to the armoury! We need to prep him,” he shouts before stalking away from the scene. They all stick around a few more seconds before scurrying off like little mice. The dead bodies still lay on the floor, but nobody seems to really care. What’s happened has happened, and there’s no changing it.

“Привести с собой солдата!” A rough voice blasts through the intercoms, and suddenly, more guards show up at your cell. You curl up into a ball and rest your forehead against your knees. You can’t bear to watch them take him away. You wait until the cell door swings shut, and then men stomp away. But even then, you cannot look up.

Bring the Soldat.

He wears that mask of his. The last time you saw it, it was caked with dirt and blood. You can hear his hard breathing behind it, almost sounding as though he’s just run a marathon. He sits in the edge of the cot — the left corner, to be exact — and he watches you. The Soldat states as you look down at the array of snacks he’s provided you with.

“Kролик,” Winter gruffly calls, and you turn around. You hum and your voice raises at the end. You haven’t done that in a while, so it startles him a bit. “Which one?” he asks, stretching his neck out just a bit to see what snack you’ve chosen. “N… Not sure,” you shyly whisper, ducking your head down in fear.

“Green one,” he says after a while, and you place your hand on it. “I don’t know what it is?” you confusingly say. The Russian text on it confuses you, so you hand it to Winter. “ Sour Patch Kids…” Winter reads out loud, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. “Oh, I like those!” you eagerly cheer, sitting up on your knees. You turn around and reach your hand out for him to give them to you.

They’ve wiped him. You know it, and you hate it. They’ve taken all emotion away from him, and now he’s just an empty shell of a man. His softness from just a few hours ago has now gone away, and you don’t know what to expect of himself. But then again, you never do.

Hesitatingly, he hands it over. “Don’t eat now. Sugar will keep you up,” he warns, and you nod. Your father would say the same thing when you were younger. The only difference is that your father had more love in his voice than Winter ever will. “We need to go over the rules,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You hum again, and he continues. “Do you remember your rules?” Winter asks, and you hum once more.

“Кролик,” he growls, and you look up. “Do you need me to repeat the rules?” Winter questions and you shake your head in objection. He doesn’t listen, though, because he knows you don’t remember them. You never seem to remember the big, important parts of the puzzle. Only the small corner pieces that don’t really matter. “I’ll tell you them anyway, and you’re going to listen to every word I say. Understood, кролик?” he raises his eyebrow, not leaving any room for protesting.

You gulp thickly and nod. “Don’t make any noises, don’t touch yourself, don’t talk to the guards, don’t let anyone touch you, don’t hurt yourself and don’t even think of escaping,” he lists, and the last one makes tears sting your eyes. “I won’t escape. ‘S not like I can even do anything in here,” you whisper under your breath, and he stands up. Metal fingers grip your chin tightly, and Winter slowly kneels down in front of you.

You’re watched like a pet. You always have been. Not even a pet, more like a possession. Seen as an object with no feelings and no emotions. As though you don’t have a heart that pumps crimson blood and lungs that expand with each breath you take. “Don’t ever speak like that again. I can easily stitch those pretty lips of yours shut, кролик,” he threatens, and you feel your tears beginning to leak.

No, no, no, no, no. Not now.

He laughs. He fucking laughs, and you want to cry even more because you need him. You need your support, but he doesn’t want to give it to you. You should’ve just kept your mouth shut. “You’re so fucking… precious. Especially when you shed those tears of yours,” he tells you with a hidden smile behind his mask. He squeezes your jaw even tighter, and you whimper out a small ‘thank you, Master’ to him.

“I wasn’t finished listing the rules, so keep your fly shut,” Winter sneers, and you nod your head slowly. “When I get back, which will be in around three hours, you have to finish drinking all those bottles of water,” he stays, snapping his fingers to grab your attention. Your eyes follow those very same fingers as they point at the four bottles of water sitting by the bed.

You never noticed them until just now. “Oh, and you can’t go to the bathroom until I say so,” he adds with a slight humorous chuckle to his voice. Your eyeballs nearly fall out of their sockets. “Don’t worry, кролик, I’ll be back so quickly, it’ll feel like a few minutes,” he promises, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you. It reminds you of when you were young, and your parents would take you to the beach.

Your parents would build sandcastles with you until they got tired. You would beg your father to piggyback you into the sea, and he would do exactly that. Your mother would carry her disposable camera with her just to take photos that would end up in the green photo album from the thrift store.

And when you got a bit older, you’d go by yourself—older in the sense that you have to start paying the bus fare of $3. You’d head to the beach after dinner and before your parents came home from work. The sky would either be a dark, dark grey or a lovely mix of pastels. The water would wash beneath your feet, pulling and loosening clumps of sand.

Taking it away the same manner Winter took your innocence.

“And remember, if you break any of these rules, I’ll know. And the outcome won’t be as pretty as your face or that pussy of yours, кролик,” Soldat warns, and you nod your head. “Yes, Master,” you shyly say to him. You want to look down at the concrete flooring so badly, but his iron-clad grip on you doesn’t loosen until a minute after your words. He looks down at you, and you look away. His strong gaze is just as powerful as the summer sun that would beat down on your skin.

“Прощай, кролик.”

You never realized how thirsty you were until just now. You’ve finished all four bottles in the span of two hours, and now you’re counting down the minutes until Soldat arrives. There are no guards standing outside your cell, so you’re all alone. Not even your intrusive thoughts have visited, and you wonder if the water was spiked.

You were never that good at telling time. It would always take you a few seconds to find the minute hand and the hour hand. But the digital clock that is on the wall across from your cell is quite helpful. It even has seconds on it, too. So you count down out loud, trying to ignore the full feeling in your stomach.

Stomping echoes down the hallways, and you don’t know if he’s close by or meters away from you. You never could tell. Russian words fall off the agents’ tongues, and sometimes you wish you could understand them. Maybe then you wouldn’t feel like such an outsider even though you’re trapped in their home. “Ты свободен, солдат,” one of the agents say, and you can hear Winter grunt.

You’re free to go, Soldat.

His big, heavy feet stomp down the hallway. The sounds bounce off the greyish-green walls, stained with different things such as blood and dirt. You can hear his metal arm whirring, and your heart jumps with fear. You’re not scared of him; you’re scared of what he’s capable of.

Oh, who are you kidding? You’re terrified of him.

The guards open up the cell door, and you look up, locking eyes with his. They’re dark and empty as they usually are. “Кролик,” he growls, and you whimper. You run up to him and hug him, feeling the water slosh inside of you. You slow your breathing down the same way your elementary school nurse told you to when you were younger and try your hardest not to throw up.

“Missed me, hm?” Winter questions and you nod meekly. Though you didn’t want to admit it two years ago, you do now. “Missed you lots, Master,” you tell him. The leather is cold against your warm skin. If you focus just a bit more, you could feel the creases of the fabric as well. But you’re too busy with him, so you ignore it. “W- Was the mission good, Master?” you nervously ask him, only out of curiosity and nothing more.

“As always. Were you good, кролик?” Soldat questions in return, rightfully so. You nod eagerly and fiddle with your fingers behind his back. He acts like he can’t feel it, just for you not to stop hugging him. “Good girl… You seem like you want something. Out with it,” he orders, and you gulp in fear.

“I… I was wondering if I could go to the bathroom,” you meekly tell Winter, looking down to the ground. His boots are shiny and polished. Cleaner than anything you’ve seen before, and it’s confusing. He usually comes in covered with dirt, sweat, tears and blood. “You need to go to the bathroom, кролик?” he asks as if he didn’t hear you beforehand.

You shyly nod and unwrap your arms from around his broad torso. You wonder if he left the mission unscathed or not. Winter chuckles. It’s breathy, airy, sly and dark. “Aw, кролик, you’re adorable, the cutest кролик of them all. It’s too bad I’m not going to let you,” he sneers in that faux fantasy tone of his. You furrow your eyebrows and so desperately want to beg him, but it’s out of line, and he never asked, so you stay quiet.

Winter grabs your hand and drags you to the cot, reminding you of the way you’d pull your parents to the shore so they can play in the water with you. They’d both laugh before your father would tackle you in the water, and your mother would push him down in retaliation. You’d always resubmerge from the water with a smile on your face and laughter bellowing throughout the beach.

You miss those times.

You let him guide you to the bed you wish wasn’t yours. “What did you do while I was gone, кролик?” Soldat questions, sitting down on the canvas of the bed. You’re placed on his lap, almost as though he’s forcing you to reclaim a throne you need. And it’s true; you need him. His hands fall to your waist, and Winter holds you in place. “I drank all the water as you asked, and I just sat here, Master,” you recount to him, leaving out the parts of the past three hours he doesn’t need to know.

He hums in the same manner as you. “That’s all?” he questions, and you slowly nod your head. “Good, I’d hate to have to punish you this late in the night,” he says, pinching the skin on your torso. You don’t whimper because you’re used to it. He calls it affection, and so do you. Winter’s hands move from your sides to the front of your stomach, caressing you with a bit of pressure being put on your bladder.

You whimper and try to play it off with a cough, but you know deep down he doesn’t buy it. Soldat continues to run his hand against your stomach the same way you’d run across the shore. Slow, wary, yet with care from the ground beneath you. You like to think of the simpler, more happier times. You know if Winter pushes a little harder, you may not be able to control yourself any longer.

The pressure in your bladder grows every few seconds, so you squirm around in his lap. Your weight shifts from his left thigh to his right thigh, over and over, and he knows exactly what’s wrong. “Кролик… Are you feeling all tingly?” he asks you. You nod your head, but you take in his words. Meanings and implications are always lost with you. They fly over your head the same way birds do, and you only see them with someone's direction.

“N- No, Master, I just have to pee really badly…” you clarify to him, and he nods his head in understanding. You smile as a spark of hope lights inside of your heart. “I don’t think you do, кролик, I already told you,” he assures, and you sigh. “I- I know, Master, I’m sorry,” you apologize and drop your head down. “I think you’re having those tingles, кролик, is your little cunt wet?” Soldat questions even though you don’t have to answer.

His hand travels between your legs and to your pussy, cupping it tightly. You whimper and involuntarily grind against his hand. “You’re absolutely soaked, кролик! Were you thinking of me?” he interrogates, and you just go with it. “Y- Yes, Master, was thinking of you all the time,” you whisper to him. He squeezes your cunt tighter and purrs in your ear. “Then why didn’t you tell me beforehand, кролик?” Winter presses, and you feel fear pump through your veins.

“I- I knew you were tired from the mission, so I didn’t want to bother you, Master. I’m sorry, please forgive me!” you plead, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. Your heart sinks to your stomach with each sound he makes, and you want death to take you right here, right now. The Soldat pushes you to the ground, and you fall with a loud ‘thud!’. Your knees hit the concrete hard, and you can feel your old scars open up a bit.

One was from a poor fall at the beach. Your father carried you home, and your mother tried to soothe you. You were only six at the time, but it felt like your world was ending.

Winter’s metal hand grabs your hair and tugs on your locks painfully. You bite back a pained moan as he yanks your head back. It’s not the first time he has nearly given you whiplash. He changes moods faster than anyone you’ve ever met. The Soldat walks around you, and you follow him with your eyes. “It’s okay, кролик. I’m not mad at you. I’m gonna treat you so well; you’re gonna love me even more,” he promises with a dark glint in his eyes.

He wedges his boot between your legs and underneath your cunt. “Get comfy, шлюха,” he orders. You shift yourself a bit, trying to alleviate any aches you feel, but it seems as though he wants you to be uncomfortable. Your pussy rests on his foot, and you wonder what he’s up to. His hand tilts your head to look up at him. You want to look away, just like when you’d look at the bright sun on a hot summer day. It was always too much to look at, but the sight was so captivating you couldn’t turn away.

“You said you wanted to go pee, right, маленькая потаскушка?” he questions, and you confusingly nod. “Then go ahead, do it,” he orders. You gasp, quite loudly, in fact. The reaction doesn’t please your Master, so he yanks on your hair a little tighter. “What’s wrong, сука? I thought that’s what you needed?” he interrogates, and you nod. “Yes, Master, but not like this,” you reason, and he growls. “I give you protection, I give you food, I give you my cum, I give you everything you need. What’s wrong now? Don’t you love me?” Winter asks.

Your heart quite literally breaks in two.

“I do, Master! I love you so much!” you promise, feeling those stupid tears of yours starting to well up. “Then why aren’t you listening to me, you dumb baby? Hm?” he presses, and panic begins to rise in your chest. The tears stream down your face the same way the waves would engulf you at the age of 7. “It’s just uncomfortable, Master, that’s all…” you reason with him. “Well, I don’t care. You’re gonna do it anyway, okay? I thought you were a good bunny for me…” Winter trails off as if he’s lost all hope and cause.

It makes you want to cry even harder.

Sniffling, you wipe your tears and try not to give up. “I am your good bunny, Master. Please don’t make me do this. I don’t want to!” you beg once again, and he grows weary of your patheticness. Winter bends down, and his flesh hand goes to the front of your flimsy shirt. Thin cotton rips away easily, with barely any strength coming from his behalf. The grey cloth is in two pieces, and he pushes them off your shoulders.

Your nipples harden as soon as the cool air brushes against them. Winter’s hand leaves your head, and you feel alone without his touch. “Seems like you forgot your place, кролик… You don’t get what you want; you get what you deserve. And what you deserve is to be put in your place,” he tells you, and your bones rattle with fear. The sound of a belt clinking and a zipping being pulled down grabs your attention, and you hold back a hearty sigh.

The Soldat stares you down as he throws his belt to the side just like he did you a few hours ago. “I can’t believe you, honestly. Думая, что ты так выше меня, пытаясь помешать мне делать то, что я хочу. After this, you’re going to regret ever talking back to me like that ever again,” he rants under his breath like the mad man he is. Your tears have dried up, but your bottom lip starts to wobble again. He huffs, tired of seeing you cry.

Winter halts his movements and goes to remove his mask, the one thing that’s been hiding that sinister smirk of his. The dark, matte material is clutched between the tips of his cut-up, bruised fingers. He carefully places the mask on your face, covering your mouth and nose. The action shuts you up, just like how he wants. You look up at him without blinking your tears away. You let them fall and soak the mask, staining it with your waterworks.

The Soldat pulls his big, thick cock out of his tactical pants. His cock is as hard as a rock, blooding pumping down to it, and his veins throb on the side of his shaft. Beads of precum drip down from his tip, rolling down his cock. He’s a raging red, desperate to be inside of you. His metal head returns to your head, and he brings you higher up in your knees. Your neck cranes at such a painful angle that the ache in your knees is ignored.

“You better fucking look at me while I teach you your lesson, шлюха,” he warns, and you listen to him easily. Through your haze of pained tears, you manage to look into his eyes. You’re not sure what he wants to do and what he’s going to do. You never do. The Soldat is unpredictable, and even in your two years of knowing him, you’ll never understand how the gears in his mind turn.

“Not so dumb after all, huh,” he chuckles before shaking his head. Winter sighs and smiles down at you. “One last chance, шлюха,” he tells you in a sing-song voice. You don’t say anything, and the Soldat clicks his tongue. Suddenly, instead of the delicious precum, he would usually make you lap up like a kitten, clear streams of warmth hit your chest. You gasp behind the mask, but it comes out as muffled nonsense to him.

“Stop!” you cry out to him, but your words are once again muffled. His pee soaks your chest as he relieves himself from the pressure in his bladder. Your hands bat at his stiff thighs, hitting them just so that he can stop humiliating you and treating you like you’re all but human. Winter growls, and his metal arm drops your head, and he slaps your hands away. His pee covers your tits and drips down your skin, staining you with disgust and humiliation.

The streams soon stop, and you’re sobbing even louder now. “Oh shut it, this isn’t even as bad of a punishment. I’m going easy on you, шлюха, I could easily do worse,” Soldat growls as the slightly tinted liquid drips from the tip and onto the ground. Your chest stutters with sobs, and you can barely breathe. You’re covered and coated like a freshly bought canvas, and Winter’s just ruined you. Almost in the same manner that you’d destroy your father’s canvas with your cheap, dollar store paint.

Winter bends down and grabs what was once your shirt and is now just a piece of cloth. Kind of like how your mother would give you any leftover scraps of fabric to make something for you. She’d never let anything go to waste. He uses it to wipe the drops of urine that still drip from his cock, and then he throws it at you like you mean nothing to him. You let it fall to the ground because there’s no possible way a piece of cloth that was once on your back can fix your honour.

But who are you kidding? You lost your honour the moment you gave into the Soldat, just like you always do.

You stretch your arms out to him, silently pleading for comfort from him. But he shakes his head with a sly smile on his face. “Aw, you want your Master to help you out, мой питомец?” Winter questions, and you eagerly nod your head. His metal hand goes to remove the mask, but he stops as soon as he touches it. “Say please,” he orders with faux sympathy in his voice. “Please, Master,” you beg to him, and he smiles.

Winter places his hand back on the mask and yanks it off of your face. The sides scratch your cheeks a bit, but that’s not what matters. “T- Thank you, Master. I love you so much,” you tell him before struggling to put a smile on your face. At the end of the day, no matter how brutal he is with you, you’ll always love him. ...Right? “You’re welcome, кролик,” he says as he throws the mask to where his belt lies.

Your cheeks are sticky and stained with tears, much like your chest. Winter’s flesh hand cups your left cheeky lightly, and he’s back to being the gentleman who has killed for you on numerous occasions. He wipes away the wetness on your cheek as his other hand goes to his cock, grabbing the base of it. “Say ‘ah,’ моя маленькая шлюшка,” he orders before you can even register his signature Cheshire smirk.

His cock is shoved inside your mouth without any warning. He always does that. No heads up, no preparation, nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Winter wiggles his foot that’s underneath your cunt, and the sudden friction is startling. He calls you bunny because of this reason. You can get off on anything, and you’re always needy for him. “I can see how wet you are, шлюха. You’re soaking my boot with that little pussy of yours,” he coos.

You don’t realize how wet you are until he points it out. You’re absolutely soaking, and you’re not sure why. But for the utmost incomprehensible reason ever, you don’t care.

His cock slides down your throat until your nose nuzzles against his pubic bone. His balls touch your chin, and your saliva coats his cock thickly. Your throat and side of your kissable mouth both hurt horribly, but you ignore the pain just for him. “You’re my good little bunny, right?” he questions, and you nod while his cock rests on your tongue. “And good little bunnies like you always listen to their Masters, right?” Winter asks, and you nod again.

He smiles. His hand on your cheeks moves to the back of your head slowly, returning to its newfound home. “I bet you want to come, don’t you, кролик?” he interrogates, and he’s not wrong. You really do want to come, and you’re a bit ashamed of it. “Master will let you come, don’t worry. I’m gonna let you have cummies, кролик,” he promises, and you happily giggle around his cock.

“Go on, hump my boot like the little bunny you are,” he pushes, and your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets. You want to protest so badly, but the memories of what he just did to you freshly flood your mind like the memories from when you were younger. “Are you that stupid that I have to explain how to get yourself off? Or are you just not listening to me, кролик?” he asks in a tone that reminds you of subdued thunder.

You shake your hand and try to move your hips around a bit. Your soaking wet pussy grinds against the leather of Winter’s shoe, and your clit throbs at the feeling. Winter’s cock slides out of your mouth until the fat tip of it is all that’s left, and then he quickly shoves it back in. Your loud gags and his moans fill the room like music. Your loss of oxygen makes you see stars, and you can recall how much your father loved to paint the midnight skies until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

Your old toothbrushes would serve as the home of the clouds of dust that the stars would be born from. His fingers would be covered in white paint that would fall off in the water and swirl down the sink. His black t-shirts would have white freckles on them, and your mother would always suggest for him to turn the cloth into a galaxy. He’d always tell her one day, and you’d always remind him of that day whenever you’d catch him painting.

“Fuck, you always do look even prettier with my cock in your mouth, кролик,” he swears, and you smile around his cock. Oh, well, you at least try to smile. You continue to rub yourself against his boot as he uses your throat as he pleases. Your hole drools with want, and your slick gives his shoe a shine that is unmatched by any other substance. The burning, fiery feeling on your clit spreads to your abdomen, and you can feel yourself being brought closer to the edge.

You’re moaning around his thick cock, sending sinful vibrations throughout him. “Fuck, are you gonna come, кролик?” he questions as he feels you hug his leg. You nod around his cock, and he begins to push your head back and forth of his cock, matching your desperate movements. He uses you like a fleshlight, and you’re used to it. “Well, too fucking bad, шлюха, you’re not allowed to come,” he spits, and your hips freeze in place.

“I didn’t say stop, did I? No, I didn’t, continue, шлюха,” he sneers, and you listen to the Soldat. You’re not sure how you’re going to stave off your orgasm, but you’ll do anything for him. You slowly begin to grind your hips back and forth on his boot again, trying to slow your breathing down, and Winter fucks your face sloppily. “Fuck, you want my cum, don’t you, кролик?” he questions, and you squeeze his leg tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out abruptly and pinches the base, staving off his release only for a few seconds. “I said, don’t you want my cum, шлюха?” he asks once again, and you nod. Saliva coats your mouth, and you can barely catch your breath. “I- I really want your cum, Master, please! Please give me your cum,” you plead to him with a ditzy look in your eyes. You wiggle your hips side to side just to give off the impression that you’re getting yourself off.

But you can’t fool the fooler. Nobody can.

“I’m going to give you all my cum, шлюха, and you’re going to take it all like a good girl,” he moans as he shoves his cock back into your mouth. Winter shoves himself deep inside your throat until you can’t take any more of his length. You swallow around his cock, and he moans loudly, swearing in Russian. The words roll off his tongue skillfully, and you feel yourself getting even wetter.

He grabs your head even tighter and bobs your skull up and down his cock a few more times before finally hitting his release. His balls tighten up, and a deep, throaty moan leaves his mouth in the best way ever. Hot, sticky ropes spurt down your throat before you can even register the way he throws his head back. Winter’s long hair spills on the sides of his head as his cum spills down your throat. You have no choice but to swallow, but it’s not like you want to spit his seed out anyways.

Winter lets out a deep moan that goes straight to your core, and his hand pats your head in a praising manner. “Good girl, such a good fucking girl,” he praises as he slowly pulls his sensitive cock out of your mouth. Your cunt flutters with sensitivity, and you want to come so badly, but you just can’t. The Soldat takes a few steps back, slipping his foot away from your aching pussy. You let out a whimper, and he smiles.

“I’m not done with you, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and your heart flutters. You’ve managed to ignore the building pressure in your bladder, but now it seems to come back stronger. “C- Can I go pee first, Master?” you politely ask him, still on your knees. Even that ache has returned, but it’s the least important thing as of now. He ignores your question as he works on the numerous straps on his battle uniform.

Skillful fingers take off the leather vest he wears, revealing a bulletproof protectant that saves him from certain dangers. “Get on the bed, кролик,” Winter orders as he continues to strip himself. You begin to stand up on your wobbly, scarred legs, but he tuts. “Uh uh, not like that,” he interjects, walking back to you. He pushes you back onto the floor, and you fall with a sob. “On your knees, because that’s what you deserve. Nothing more, шлюха,” he sneers, and you sniffle.

You slowly crawl to the bed. Each time your knees touch the ground, you burn up with both arousal and humiliation. And it’s not like the action is making your need to go to the bathroom any better. The abrupt movement makes the liquid slosh inside you, and you want to burst out in tears, begging Winter to just let you relieve yourself. Your hands have slight scars from your nails, and it reminds you of when your father would encourage you to do the monkey bars.

You’d always try to swing yourself to the end with all your might. But you never could do it. You’d fall down to the ground and leave the park wailing. The scars and blisters on your hand would make your parents so upset, but that never stopped you from wanting to go back and try again. Eventually, you got too old to try, and it would always upset you. Maybe one day you’ll be able to try again— one day.

You hear zippers unzipping and velcro cracking behind you as you get on the bed. The coolness of the sheets is so refreshing against your hot skin. It soothes you for a few seconds, but it eventually loses its worth. You turn around and face him with a sort of dumbfounded look on your face. He fucking loves it; Winter always does. He’s naked, fully naked, and even his signature tactical boots have been discarded.

If you squint, you could see the way your wetness shines on his boot. “Good girl, such as good little bunny,” he praises, and you can feel yourself get flustered. Winter climbs onto the bed, staring you dead in the eyes. He kneels in front of you with a wicked smirk, and he brings his flesh hand up to your throat. You let out a gasp as he squeezes your neck tightly before he leans in closer to you.

The Soldat’s face is just a mere few centimetres away from yours. You can feel each breath that he takes against your skin. His hard cock rests against your sticky chest, and he’s still hard as fuck. “Open your mouth, кролик,” he orders, and you instantly do so. You wait for his cock to be stuffed in your mouth once again, but it never comes. You watch as he puckers his lips up before spitting right by your mouth.

You choke in surprise as his saliva slowly drips into your mouth, landing on your sore tongue. You whimper at the feeling, and Winter has a proud smile on his face. He pulls his head away from yours, in the same manner your father would whenever he’d finish one of his masterpieces. “Swallow it all, кролик, I know you want to,” he orders in a sing-song voice.

You follow his demand obediently. You can’t lie; the sheer act of him spitting in your mouth and forcing you to swallow it makes you even wetter. You’d take anything he gives you. “You’re such a good girl, you know that right?” he questions, and your chest heaves. Winter’s cock twitches against you, and you so desperately want him inside you. But there’s nothing you want more than to go relieve yourself.

His metal hand comes up to your face, and you think he’s going to lovingly hold you. You absolutely adore it when he strokes your cheeks. The Soldat’s thumb touches the soft yet slightly sweaty skin of your face and moves back and forth. Chills run down your spine, and you smile into his touch. He suddenly pulls his hand away, and he strikes you roughly. You let out a cry as your skin stings and prickles from the hit.

He does it again and again until your tears soak his hand. Your cheek is practically numb from the pain. You can feel his cock leaking with cum, and you know that he’s going to fuck you, just like you want him to. “Did you forget your manners?” Winter harshly questions, and you quickly shake your head. “T- Thank you, Master,” you whisper to him, and he smiles.

“Master… Can I please go to the bathroom? Please, it hurts,” you beg to him, but he just shakes his head. “P- Please, Master? I’ll be a good girl, I promise!” you plead to him as your tears run down your face even quicker. He ignores your cries for relief, and he instead slams you onto the bed. Your mind is a mess as he combs on top of you, and the aches you have only get stronger.

The hand that was slapping some sense into you finds a new home on your stomach, right above your swollen bladder. He pushes down on your stomach slightly, and you kick your legs. “Shh, none of that, no, stop it,” he shushes, and you try your hardest to not let go right there and then. “Master knows what you need, okay? And right now, you need my cock, маленький кролик,” he tells you, and you sob.

The hand on your throat moves to his cock, and he grabs his thick base. The veins on the side throb with need, and in one thrust, he bottoms out inside you. You barely have the time to register what’s just happened. The painful stretch of his cock radiates throughout your core, and you dig your nails into the scarred skin of your palms. His tip nudges against your g-spot, and you coat his cock with your wetness.

Winter is buried inside you to the hilt, filling you up to the brim. His swollen, heavy balls rest against your ass, and you both try to get used to the connection. The painful stretch dulls down to an exquisite pleasure, and Winter loves the way your tight cunt gets used to his thick cock. He’s splitting you in two, but he simply does not care. His hand returns back to your throat, and this time, he squeezes the sides of your neck even tighter.

Winter pulls his cock out until his fat tip is the only thing resting inside of your pussy. He slams back into you roughly, and you let out a cry. Your jaw falls slack as the Soldat begins to fuck into your relentlessly. His balls slap against your ass, and your loud, short-lived moans fill the cell that you’ve grown to love. “Fucking hell, кролик, your pussy feels so good,” he growls, slamming into you even harder.

Your tits bounce with every movement he makes. The pleasure sears through your body as Winter hammers against your poor g-spot with each thrust he makes. “Master, please, I need to go really badly,” you beg to him as he continues to fuck you. He shakes his head in objection before pushing down on your stomach even harder. You let out a wail and try to squirm away, but you only worsen things for yourself.

“No, you don’t, кролик. The only thing you need is my cock,” the Soldat tells you, and you upsettingly toss your head back. “No, Master, please, I don’t wanna make a mess,” you reason with him, but he just doesn't seem to want to listen. “I know that, кролик, but you need to listen to me, okay? You don’t need to go; you just need me,” he growls lowly, and you can feel him pushing harder on your bladder.

“No- Wait, Master, please stop pushing on me,” you implore to him as a moan follows your words. Your silky, wet cunt hugs his cock as the tingly feeling in your bladder becomes stronger. You want to cross your legs and stop it from growing, but you can’t. Pressure builds up in your core, and you’re not sure if you’re going to come or if you’re going to make a mess and humiliate yourself.

“Let go, мой тупой ребенок, I know you want to so badly. You can make a mess, do it,” Winter urges, and you shake your head. “No, Master, please stop it,” you cry to him, but he only fucks you harder. One specific thrust hits your cervix, and you yell out in pain before even realizing what’s happened. Warmth trickles down your thighs and onto his cock. You let out a wail as humiliation blossoms from your soul.

Though there’s nobody else watching, you’re still embarrassed. And that wicked smirk on Winter’s face does nothing to help you out. The sound of it makes your back sweat, and you want the ground to open up and take you home. Your urine wets the sheets beneath you, and your tears wet your face. “God, look at you. You finally got what you wanted, and here you are, crying like a fucking brat. You’re so ungrateful. Do you even deserve my cum?” he questions with disgust on his tongue.

You struggle to nod, but you do it anyway. The last thing you need is to have your Master upset with you. “‘M sorry, Master, please forgive me,” you plead to him. You continue to relieve yourself, and he continues to fuck you despite the mess you’re making in his shaft. “Такой грязный, глупый малыш. Ты такой жалкий, ты же знаешь это, да?” he questions even though you only know one simple word of Russian. You moan loudly as you slowly stop making a mess and begin to feel your orgasm building up.

“Aw, are you gonna come, кролик?” Winter asks you in a condescending tone, one that makes you even wetter. The lewd sounds that come from your pussy as just as humiliating as what you’ve just done, but you don’t care. You’re too busy getting fucked stupid. “Fuck, I can’t wait to fill this pussy up with my cum; watch it leak out of you. You always do look prettier when you’re filled up with my cum,” he moans as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Master, ‘m gonna c- come,” you whimper to him, laying in your own piss. “Go ahead, шлюха, come on my cock. You already made a mess on me twice, might as well do it for the third time,” Winter growls, moving the hand that lays on your stomach. He grabs your hips roughly and pulls you closer towards his cock. Hot flames lick at your abdomen as you hit your climax, seeing stars in your vision.

Your reality is warped as you can barely make out the look on Winter’s face. Darkness takes over your vision in the same manner as the clouds would take over the skies on those hot summer days. They would hide the pretty sun for a few minutes, and then they’d leave eventually. Your pussy clamps down on his cock tightly as you coat him with your juices, making him moan.

You wail loudly as you clench around him, making him groan. “Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” he asks without waiting for an answer. You nod as he fucks you through your orgasm, not even caring about how overstimulated you are. His cock slips in and out of you with ease and his thrusts begin to grow sloppy. “Tell me how much you want my cum,” he demands, fucking you even slower.

“I- I want your cum really badly, Master. I need it so badly; please fill me up with your cum!” you politely beg to you as you come down from your much-needed high. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up so nicely, кролик, you’re gonna beg me to fuck you again,” Winter husks as his balls tighten up. A string of Russian words leave his mouth, and you have to assume that it’s all foul language.

Warm, white ropes of cum paint your walls as he pushes deep inside your cunt while coming. Winter’s blue eyes squeeze shut, and you both moan at the feeling. He fills you up just like he promised, and you bite down on your lips. Everything has dried, and you feel disgusted, so you try to focus on the way his cum pumps inside you. His cock stays inside you, but he doesn’t soften at all, and you know what that means. Winter falls on top of your sticky chest with a sigh, and tears sting your eyes.

Though he says you need him, you wonder if that’s really true.

[bloodycassian]

Reader x Cassian - Hellish Prompt: Reader is an assassin/spy that was caught and azriel has spent months torturing her for information and can’t get anything out of her and cassian eventually goes to see who this assassin/spy is and the mating bond snaps and cassian beats the $hitt out of az bc of the mating bond instincts and rhys has to intervene and break up the fight (i was thinking this could switch between azriel’s POV at the start and then switch to cassian's POV)

AN- this was SO fun to make. Please more requests like this!! I love the idea of unexpected mates!

TW -blood/ blades.  

Drip, drip, drip. Copper smell filled the small room. Blood leaked down the drain in the floor. You wheezed a laugh bitterly and spat on the ground at his feet. Azriel's rage simmered calmly under his dark shadows. They coiled, ready to strike. Wanting to strike. The sound of your feeble laughs was practically the only sound Azriel had gotten from you for the first week of torture.  The second week was worse, even for him. Truth teller revealed nothing when he gouged into your skin from the bottom up. Truthfully, he was impressed beyond measure. But that didnt mean that he could stop the job at hand. He had to know, and wished he didnt have to do this kind of thing to get the information from you. "Listen..." He sighed, cleaning his blade. He was always nervous whenever he had a back turned to an enemy, no matter how well they were restrained. But he trusted his shadows enough to tell him if something was wrong.  "If you just.. Cooperate and tell me where the Queens are, we can let you go. No trouble, just releasing you back to Rask." He tried to keep his tone neutral, but he was nearing an exhaustion point. Torture every day for two weeks had its toll not only on the victim, but the dealer as well. His shadows seemed to be growing restless too, waiting for a chance to strike.  He watched your reaction from the corner of his eye. Noted the way your head hanging loosely seemed to gain a bit more strength before you spoke. "Losing your touch, Spymaster?" You revealed a row of bloody teeth to him, and grunted when the chains at your wrists stung the magic that weakly attempted to help you.  Azriel could have sighed. He could have laughed and bled you dry. Have a healer come and patch you up enough to keep you alive. The idea was tempting, but he didn't like having anyone besides his brothers see him in this mode of darkness. He could have brought Rhys down to attempt to break into your mind again. After the first attempt and Rhys' reaction to being blocked, he wasn't eager for that again. So he sighed, and brought out the potions laced with Faebane.  + He was convinced you weren't a normal Fae. After months of his best torture methods he was a wreck. "She just-" He tried to hide his frustration, but his brothers knew him best. Cassian smirked by the fire, warming his wings. Rhys seemed a bit more concerned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Azriel had never been one to spend a long time on torture. Rhys saw the frustration flowing from him after every session with the stubborn Fae in the dungeon cell.  "I dont know what to do anymore. She's the only one to have never broken." He ran a hand though his hair. His shadows seemed weak, exhausted like him.  Rhys considered for a moment, looking between his two brothers. Cassian seemed to be enjoying Azriel's frustration. Maybe a bit too much. Rhys sipped his wine then, with a look of innocence, "Maybe we will have Cassian end it. Perhaps seeing the Lord of Death in front of her will knock something loose."  Cassian's stare whipped to him, a silent plea on his face. "We should leave it to our expert Rhys-" Azriel laughed, cold and bitter. "The expert hasn't got a damn thing out of her. We either kill her or send her back to Rask with all the information she's collected about us. With nothing in return." Shame lined his features. The sense of failure to his high lord was a heavy weight to bear. "Cas...I expect you down there tomorrow afternoon. It will be her last chance." Rhys' no nonsense tone shut down Cassian's retort. His jaw locked with distaste. He hated the cramped cells below the house of wind. Hated the way going underground made his wings feel like they needed to stretch. The worst was when that stale air was laced with the rotting smell of dead mice or old blood. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it.  "Come on Cas, dont you want to see the only one that's outlasted me?" Az asked with a mock grin. He couldn't give the same smile back. Turmoil spilled inside him at the thought of going so far below the mountain.  + Cassian took a long time to go to bed that night. His restlessness about the next day made him wake up over and over, never having more than an hour of peace before being waken up.  Azriel held up a mug of tea to him the next morning. "You look like shit." He handed his brother the mug with a small smile. Cassian glared at him, but took it anyway. He went to the balcony, his heavy wings needing to feel the fresh air. It was like taking a bath after being covered in grime. He sighed in relief, letting the late morning sun graze his body. The cold wind from Illyria was beginning to come in for the winter, and the familiar smell ignited something in him. He felt a draw, but shoved it to the back of his mind. He knew what he had to be this day. "Why the hell do we have to keep them so far down again?" Cassian complained. Around and around and around. Down deeper and deeper into the pit of the mountain that the house above was carved out of. Cassian felt like his lungs were collapsing the further they went. He tried not to let his nerves show, but he knew Az's shadows would pick up on it anyway.  "Remember when you broke your arm chasing down that Attor?" Azriel could have laughed at that memory, but the story surrounding it made the experience soured. More shame on top of the guilt already there.  Cassian hummed in approval, welcoming the distraction the memory brought. He tried not to focus on how each turn of the staircase got darker and darker. How the air seemed to compress around him. He locked his eyes on the scar on one of Az's wings. "And we spent a week fixing the top story of that apothecary?" He asked, keeping his voice steady.  "Yes. Dont you remember how the Attor got out?" Cassian shook his head, and Azriel huffed a laugh. "I left the door open for just a second to get a new knife and..." He shook his head, part in anger and regret, part in shame. "It had escaped before I turned around. I dont know how it happened, to this day."  Cassian stared at the back of the shadowmaster's head. The dark ripples around him seemed to spike. "It happens Az, you can't be perfect."  "It's not perfection, its basic thought. After that we moved all enemies to the lower dungeons. No matter the threat. Rhys even put wards on the arches." He ran a hand over the walls, his fingers catching a few of the grooves that linked each spelled archway to the other.  Cassian left the conversation at that. At least his brother wasn't brooding as much as before. The dim lights began to come into view, and his heart began hammering. Adrenaline singing through his veins. His polished siphons glowed, reflecting red off the dark stone ceiling. He had polished all his black armor the night before, when he couldn't sleep. Something poked, prodded at him all night. Keeping him awake. He figured he may as well make use out of it.  "She's not going to talk to you unless you show..weakness first." Azriel said in a low voice. Cassian nodded, reaching the end of the stairwell with him.  Cassian couldn't see the dark figure in the cell, but he felt the presence nonetheless. The dark draw that you demanded. He wondered how Azriel had dealt with that pull this whole time. The tantalizing draw to you. He shook his head, pushed the hair out of his face and nodded to Azriel.  He opened the door, then began his ritual. At the start of every session he would toss a bucket of water over your body, then a bucket of salt. It made the wounds that handn't healed fully scream in pain. You jolted at the suddenness of it this time. "Good morning, shadowsinger." You ground out, voice rough with strain. Cassian watched in awe at his brother.  Cassian was never one for torture. There was a reason Azriel was appointed to this position. Watching the calm cruelness of him was jarring, but Cassian kept his face straight. He stood behind you, watching the flimsy attempts to pull at the shackles holding your arms up. Lacerations dotted each arm, some light pink scars. Some were still scabbing over. A chill ran down his spine.  "You have a guest today, would you like to see him?" Azriel's voice was cool, calm. Like he was speaking orders to a group of soldiers. He began slicing new lines into your arms, moving up to your neck. He had left your ears in tact, as a last resort if you refused to speak to Cassian. The pull Cassian felt was overwhelming. He walked a bit too quickly around you, plastered on a wicked smile for show, then crouched down. The smile faded when he finally saw your face. Your dripping hair was a horror on its own. Plastered to the skeletal cheekbones, and pale eyes. Those eyes were brighter than anything he'd ever seen. A field of flowers down the slope of Illyrian mountains. His world shifted, drawing the breath from him. "Mine." His mind seemed to roar with that alone, but in a thousand different variations. "Lover, friend, partner, mine mine mine. Mate. My mate." His lips quivered with the realization. With the way his heart soared, and the way he moved without realizing it. He choked a gasp, and fell forward on his knees before you. He saw the same astonishment in your reaction. Azriel dropped his sword, confusion and concern alert on his features. "Cas wh-" Before he could finish, before his shadows could detect that Cassian had even moved, his brother was on top of him. Cassian's knuckles stung with every punch. A new kind of rage flared inside him. It made his muscles yearn for violence. Made his teeth crave the flesh of those that so much as looked at you wrong. There was no mercy for Azriel, it was as if he was an enemy on the battlefield. Cassian held nothing back. You hung limply from the chains that bound you. Crunch after crunch sounded from Azriel. He eventually managed to push Cassian off of him. Then they locked together in battle again. Clashes of armor against armor were deafening. The snarls they ripped at each other were loud enough to make you cringe. Your heart squeezed at the sounds of Cassian's breath. At the scent of blood spilling. You pulled feebly at the chains, your mind roaring to protect him.  Your mate. You tried to watch the battle, but the weakness in your body refused to let you turn more than a few inches. They were panting, Cassian fighting with a ferocity Azriel had never seen. His eyes flared with rage, like he was possessed. "Cas-" Azriel grunted, shoving his brother backwards. His back hit yours, pushing you down and digging those stone cuffs into your wrists. You hissed in pain. Cassian roared and lunged at his brother again, and again.  The darkness that boomed outside the cell was jarring. The stone ceiling shuddered, small rocks and dirt falling from it. Cassian did not stop. He didn't hesitate, coming at Azriel with punch after punch. His fist crushed the wall behind where Az's head had been. 

"Enough." The high lord's cool command was enough to make you still your weak attempts at looking at the two. Cassian's chest heaved as he tried lifting his arm to punch Az again. Pure fury in his heart was enough to make him disobey Rhysand's order.

  Then Rhys' talons gripped him. Freezing his mind, stilling him. Rhys' face shifted to surprise at what he glimpsed at there. "Oh.." He breathed. Azriel panted, backing away from his brother, out of the cell. He locked the cell and wiped the blood from himself, his wings hanging limply behind him. "What- the hell." He panted, nursing his arm. Cassian's eyes locked to your small frame. How your muscles quivered, how your arms shook with the effort of holding yourself up. He felt Rhys' claws recede slowly from his mind, releasing each part of him one by one. He rushed to you.  He picked up Azriel's sword and with a clean, masterful swipe, broke the enchanted stone that bound you. The weak sigh that came from you was heartbreaking. His eyes pricked with tears, and he caught you before you could fall to the floor into the puddle of dried blood. He didnt notice, or care that it was there. He sat there with you, cradled you and shook with you. 

"Cassian... She's.. Cassian's mate." Rhys said slowly, astonished. He didn't take his eyes from his brother in the cell. Azriel froze in place. For a moment, the dungeon was completely still. Totally silent, as if the world waited for what was to come next.

Azriel turned on a heel and left, trudging up the stairs. Rhys dared not touch his mind. "Cassian...." He spoke, trying to get his brother's attention. He did not glance at Rhys, just curled around your body more. Protecting, nesting almost. Rhys knew the feeling too well from the weeks after he and Feyre's bond snapped into place.  "We will check in tomorrow. Be safe, brother." Rhys spoke to Cassian's mind. It was nothing but an ocean of rushing thoughts. Cassian could have bared his teeth, could have tried to fight his brother through the bars of the cell. Hell, he could have probably broken through those bars with the primal strength flowing through him with the rush from the bond. 

But he didn't. He stayed, his warm body pressed against yours. Those siphons glowing against your skin like a fire. He stroked your hair soothingly, his tears like rainfall on your body, through your bloodstained clothes. He didn't remember falling asleep there, but it was the most restful, peaceful night he'd ever had in his existence. 

[tinyyoungblood]

hi!! adore your work love. could you maybe do smth where stark!reader has to get her wisdom teeth out but HATES the dentist so she brings her boyf peter and her dad w her?? and then when they get home the avengers are all waiting with like comical amounts of flowers and stuffed animals and then reader says some funny shiii and thor thinks she’s like dying lol. idk if that made sense but i’m getting my wisdom teeth out soon and i’m scared😭 thank u so so much love u babe

pairing: peter parker x stark!reader

a/n: tysm lovely :,) i rushed through this like my life depended on it, but i hope i’m not too late. either way, i hope you’re okay! it’s frightening but those bad boys gotta go because we don’t need that kind of energy in our lives. enjoy x

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

wisdom teeth? more like wisdoom

y/n has to get her wisdom teeth removed and it’s the singular most dreadful thing she’s ever had to do, which says a lot because her dad is tony richling stark

doing dreadful things she doesn’t want to do but still somehow end up doing just because she can is a personality trait at this point

no one really makes a big deal out of it since ~death~ is part of their job description, but y/n is terrified

and when a stark is terrified the only thing that will keep them one step from insanity is researching the hell out of it

that information will be info dumped into every conversation for the next few weeks leading up to the appointment

“y/n you need anything from the store?” "no thanks, did you know the side effects of getting your wisdom teeth out include ✨sudden death or blood clots✨ tho” “……..i have a coupon?”

the day of the appointment, peter comes along and literally doesn’t let go of y/n’s hand. he keeps touching her to let her know that he’s there and it’s so. adorable

he would rest his hand on her knee, gently stroke her back while holding her, or just play with her hair

happy drops them off and he’s too Cool™ for emotions but he knows y/n’s a wreck, so he just fist bumps her with a single nod and she almost breaks down bc it’s really affectionate

y/n is sitting in the dentist chair and genuinely nothing is happening yet, but she’s squeezing peter’s hand like it’s a sponge

peter might have a high pain tolerance but he’s in pain pain and he prays that his hand won’t just explode on him

the dentist notices how peter tries to keep it together and chuckles

“you okay there, son?” “yea it’s fine, had a better time when a building fell on me tho haha” “pardon?” “oh i mean i didn’t have a good time, i just had a better time”

because y/n is running Anxious Town™, the dentist gives her a sedative to help her relax 

plus, an injection of local anaesthetic to numb the tooth and surrounding area

she doesn’t feel anything and it’s GREAT

the procedure is quicker than expected and now the real fun begins

she tries to walk but she falls down so peter scoops her up bridal style and happy stays glued at her side

y/n doesn’t mind although she literally doesn’t recognise them and they’re practically strangers to her

but girly sees an opportunity and tries to flirt with peter bc why wouldn’t she

“you’re pretty” *blushes* “why thanks” “you should let your girlfriend know” “i should let her know i’m pretty?” “so you do have a gf? :(” “yea it’s you” “:)”

they stop for gas and peter goes in to get some water for y/n, and in her infinite wisdom, she decides it’s burger time

her mouth is completely numb and she’s practically leaving a trail of drool behind her, but she’d kill for a burger right now

so she wobbles around aimlessly for an hour on some random parking lot as if the ground might just magically open up like a rabbit hole and lead her to five guys

she’s going places. not back to the car. definitely not five guys. they’re closed. but places

peter finally finds her and he’s drenched from head to toe in sweat. he doEsn’T wAnt tO tALk abOut iT tho so she lets him take her to subway instead

normally, she would know that peter’s usual subway order is bread-lettuce-jalapeño

but in her drugged-up state, it had simply slipped her mind so now she’s staring at him like he’d just murdered someone right in front of her

“that- that’s your order?? no meat or anything just bread, lettuce, and a little spice?”

meanwhile at the compound, sam and steve are ordering everyone around bc they want to decorate this place before y/n gets home to surprise her

they take it very seriously too. they’ve watched like one HGTV show and said it’s our time

they finally get home and tony gives y/n a big hug, asking her what took so long

happy tells him that she was keen on getting burgers bc apparently someone has taught her that stressful times call for ~cheeseburgers~

he proceeds to look at tony with a pointed look

tony just shrugs and goes “she was a problem child. we don’t mention her dark past”

she’s swaying on the spot and keeps grinning like a fool and thor just stares at her weirdly before elbowing bruce and whispering loudly,

“what’s wrong with her? is she dying? should i start collecting leaves, i know this remedy—"

no one can tell if y/n is just happy to see the newly decorated home or if she’s just delighted to see everyone but then she goes around hugging the entire team

she doesn’t even acknowledge the sky-high pile of teddy bears and flowers everywhere bc she’s just squeezing everybody

y/n is so high, she just starts to spill all of her feelings about everyone and they’re already so overwhelmed by the hug chain they can’t take this too

“wanda i just want you to know that you’re like my big sister and you’re always taking care of me and i know you and vision are just going to make such good parents one day”

“bucky you absolute PRICK, you FIEND, you’re the best chess player ever and that’ll never change and i wouldn’t be good without you, i hate to say it but you deserve happiness even after you made me lose five times in a row yesterday”

“dad, you’re so strong and smart, even though we’re like never on the same page, you’re always along for the ride, i want to be like you when i grow up, i swear i’m gonna try to be as good to the avengers as you were to us” “aww- wait makes you think i'll be the first to die“

“nat you’re such a bitch about your protein shakes but you’re my best friend and i wouldn’t have it any other way, you can try out as many make up looks on me as you want”

“bruce, brucey, i would live with you in your lab for the rest of my days if i had to, whenever you ask me to hand you stuff i feel useful and important”

“laura’s way out of your league clint i have no idea how the fuck you got her but don’t lose her and i want to be your next child’s godmother”

“steve…we’re your family now. we’re always gonna be your family now. okay?”

“loki you’re not fooling anyone with your attitude, we all know you’re part of the family, you were just misunderstood and messed up bc of your dad–FUCK him by the way–but i realised everyone deserves as many chances as they need because of you”

“sam i would genuinely kill anyone who wronged you, even if they cut you in line at the grocery store, i would knife them no hesitation”

“thor, you poor golden retriever have been through so much, on my way here i made a wish on an eyelash for you bc you deserve better, your postcards always make my day, love you”

she mumbles something to peter that no one else can hear but he blushes and chokes back a sob

y/n orders hot soup and bucky brings it to her but before he even has time to react peter drops everything and ZOOMS across the room in .3 seconds

he barrels into bucky so hard they both go flying, but peter just smoothly rolls out of it and onto his feet like some kind of super ninja

“DUDE WHAT THE HELL” “😠 y/n is not supposed to drink hot liquids 😠”

all of this happens in mere seconds but sam has filmed it all and now slow mo clips go viral online of some mysterious kid knocking over the winter soldier

y/n’s a little in and out after that, but when she fully regains consciousness, she’s on a pile of blankets, surrounded by the team on the floor <3

* * *

let me know if this is actually comforting lmao stay hydrated pals

hc masterlist

[forever-rogue]

if you’re still taking requests for Bucky, can you do one from this quote if it sparks any inspiration: ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’

A/N: please, this is so soft 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped soft lips as Bucky laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. There was almost no sound in the room besides the rhythmic ticking of the aging clock on the wall, combined with the sounds wafting in from the open window, and the almost non-existent humming of his vibranium appendage. He reached his hand up to his chest to ground himself by touching the dog tags that had been his for way too many years now. A temporary moment of panic set into his bones when he realized there was nothing there, but revelation quickly dawned on him as he remembered that they were currently with you. The last he’d seen them, you were wearing them, the metallic silver tags safely nestled under the soft fabric of your t-shirt.

When he’d given them to you, a sign of his desire to call you his, among other things, he never actually expected that you’d wear them. The first time he’d spied you wearing them, along a casual outfit consisting of jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers, he’d almost short circuited. There was something about comforting knowing they were safe and sound in your possession now. They were yours now too - just like he was.

A gentle tugging lifted the corners of his mouth into the semblance of a smile. How foreign it still felt sometimes, the gentle feeling of blossoming happiness and knowing he was loved. Loved. What a strange and odd concept that was. He couldn’t remember the last another soul had told him they loved him besides in the most platonic sense. But the first time you’d whispered those words to him, so effortlessly, so easily, I love you, his whole world came to a screeching halt and he was sent into a wild spiral that left him speechless. Bucky hadn’t reciprocated your words then; but it wasn’t long after that he did. It had been a half shout, half declaration as you just grinned at him, pulling him against your lips and only letting him go when you were both breathless and dizzy.

He relaxed at the thought, settling against the pillow as he reminded himself to swim in happy memories, rather than drown in the ghosts of the past.

His phone vibrated against the glass top of the coffee table as it startled him out of his stupor, causing him to almost roll off the couch in surprise. He scrambled to grab the phone, and relaxed when he saw your name on the screen. Straightening himself up, he cleared his throat before answering, “hi sweetheart.”

“Bucky!” your excited voice on the other end of the line made his heart relax as he just imagined you bouncing around your small floral shop, making sure everything was perfect, “it’s about time you answered, old man. I’ve called you like three times! Did I disturb your afternoon nap, Barnes?”

“Hey, watch who you’re calling an old man,” he snorted as he stood up and stretched, surprised by how easily you were able to read him, “I got decades on you, kid, respect your elders.”

“Respect me when I’m right,” you grinned as he laughed lightly. How easily everything seemed to flow between the two of you; he’d never thought he could have anything like this again. Even once he’d left Wakanda and life slowly went back to a semblance of normality after the Blip, he still had a hard time trusting people; perhaps, more than anything else, he didn’t trust himself.

While he knew he was himself again, Bucky, and not the Winter Soldier, he still was never quite convinced that he wouldn’t ever go back. For so long he had been nothing but a killer, it was hard to believe that he could ever be fully himself again. So he’d closed himself off, steeled himself, despite the constant reassurance from the people around him that it was okay to let others in. He couldn’t trust himself - after so long...how could he? How was he just supposed to be able to pick the pieces and just be James again?

But he was learning, over time, slowly, bit by bit, that it was okay to let people in, okay to feel, and be okay and also not be okay. Sure, some days were hard, but the good days were good. And they were getting to become more and more frequent.

“Bucky? Hello?” you called his name from the other line, trying to get him to snap back into attention, “James? James Buchanan Barnes?”

“S-sorry,” his voice was soft and gentle for a moment, “I...yeah.”

“Yeah,” you teased softly, “zoning out again huh, my love? I know how you get. What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

“Nothing much,” he admitted, shrugging to himself despite the fact that you weren’t able to see him, “when are you off?”

“Whenever I want to be,” you reminded him, “I’m the boss now, remember? Why do you ask? Got some grand plans for us?”

“Nah,” he confessed, “just want to come and see you. Is it okay if I stop in? I’d come and bring you some flowers...but that would seem a little...on the nose.”

“Ahh, look at you,” he could practically hear you grinning, “very clever, aren’t you? Come and see me - it’s been slow so I might as well close up when you get here. Maybe we can go for a walk and get dinner?”

“Sounds great,” he agreed softly, “see you soon.”

“See you soon, Bucky.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

While you waited for Bucky to arrive, a brilliant idea popped into your head. You quickly grabbed a vase and started to gather some of the flowers that reminded you of him. It wasn’t long before you had a variety of them, neatly arranged and topped off with a bow, ready and waiting for him. He walked into your small shop, ready to announce himself but quickly found that he didn’t have to.You were perched up on the counter, swinging your legs back and forth as you tilted your head to the side and studied him with a small smile. He was dressed casually today, sporting a dark blue henley and a pair of well fitting jeans. His arm, intricate and beautifully designed golden and black vibranium, wasn’t on full display, nor was it completely hidden. Progress; a step in the right direction, albeit small. He’d get there when he’d get there and if that took another five years or fifty, you planned on being there for him.

“Hi James,” you popped off the counter and met him halfway, letting him wrap you up and envelope you in his warm, tight grasp. His arms, his body, was your favorite place to be. You never felt more safe and secure than when you were wrapped up in him, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” he chuckled as you just nodded, pouting lightly as he couldn’t help but kiss you softly, “it’s only been a few hours since we’ve seen each other.”

“I know,” you ran a hand through his dark hair, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t miss you, does it?”

“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed as you took his hand and pulled him over to the counter. Bucky dramatically rolled his eyes as he trailed after you. Your hand looked so small in his hand; delicate skin contrasted against harsh callouses as you gave him a squeeze of reassurance. Whatever hesitation or tension was left in his body seeped, replaced by a feeling of saccharine bliss, “what are you up to?”

“You always think I’m up to something,” standing in front of the flowers, you paused, studying his features before reaching up to tenderly cradle his face in your hands. Bucky, resilient and strong, turned into a puddle of mush and practical whimpers as you traced a delicate fingertip across his features, “perhaps this time you’re right.”

“Tell me then,” he turned his face, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm as you used your free hand to reach behind you and push the vase to your side so he could see the ornate display. Blue eyes narrowed, highlighting the wary crease in his brow before they widened, softening all the way through. His hand slinked down to your waist, a light squeeze followed as he shuffled to the side and studied the flowers. Bright yellows and oranges, brilliant crimsons and pinks, and mellow pastels were suddenly under his intense scrutiny as he took in the sight of the blossoms, “w-what are these?”

“And here I was, thinking you were smart,” standing behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, delicately and slowly at first so you wouldn’t startle him. His frame stiffened for a mere moment before he relaxed, the weight of your head on his back a welcome burden he was happy to bear, “these are called flowers.”

“Very funny,” you could feel the laugh vibrate through his chest as a hand, one colder and more metallic than normal, but still all him, settled on your own. Pressing a line of soft kisses to his shoulders, you listened to the steady beating of his heart, “what’s the occasion?”

“There is none,” you insisted, “I just thought you would enjoy them. Look at the colors and blossoms, they all reminded me of you. So brilliant and warm and bright and lovely - just like you, Bucky.”

A few beats of silence met your ears as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, a million thoughts swirling around his mind. Before you could speak or say anything else, he turned around in your arms so he was facing you. He gestured between you and the flowers for a few moments, finding himself at a loss for words, “me?”

“Yes,” you promised him, “for you. Do you like them?”

“I love them,” he reassured you, an easy warmth settling over you, “back in the day I would have been doing this for you…”

‘You’ve gotten me flowers plenty of times,” you laughed, a sound that had easily become his favorite thing in almost no time, “besides, you deserve some nice things too.”

“I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s a new one,” you teased as he jokingly groaned, “ I jest! I’ve noticed you’ve been a little more quiet and stoic lately...I didn’t even know that was possible for you. What’s been on your mind, my love?”

“There’s this quote that came into mind...I heard it somewhere, but I can’t remember from what or who,” he mused as he rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, “it’s something along the lines of ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’ I feel like...I can do that with you - like I can be myself and you’re not judging me, even though you know who I am.”

“Bucky - James - I know who you are,” it was surprising you didn’t melt into a puddle then and there, melting into nothingness at his feet. You leaned in, looking at his eyes for a few moments before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. You broke apart slowly, reluctantly before resting your forehead against his, “I know exactly you who are. And I love you for it - a good man, friend, partner, and so many other things. You are good, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or thinks. Fuck them - the people that know you know who you really are.”

“Even after…”

“Even after everything that’s happened,” you promised, “you are safe with me. I’m not going to suddenly turn my back on you and walk away. I love you, Bucky. You have me, now and forever, and I’ve got you, always. That’s not going to change. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you could feel him smiling against your lips as he breathed you in and let you overwhelm his senses, “I know that.”

“Good,” you smiled as you reached for his hand, “let’s go to get dinner. I’m starving.”

“Don’t you need to close up?”

“Nah,” you winked at him, “I closed up as soon as we got off the phone earlier so we would have interruptions. C’mon Buck, I’m going to take you for a night on the town! What do you say?”

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed, “there’s just one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“This,” he pulled you into his arms and kissed you deeply as your body melded into his, “I love you too.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[moongoddessmox]

What's Your Name? Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: 18+, smut, brief mentions of Hydra torture, angst?

Word Count: 4,000

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Black!Reader

Summary: The Winter Soldier may not remember his name, but he can't help but protect you from Hydra. Now that you're on the run with him, you can't deny the feelings that grow.

A/N: This sat for way too long being unfinished, smh. But here we are! I decided to say the reader is black because I am black, and I struggle with envisioning myself in reader inserts even without any description. I'm trying to unlearn a lot of shit from being underrepresented, and while I don't describe anything about the reader, I want y'all to know this is a black person and that all my stories are black people. Even if I don't say it. (That will be changing) As always, it is crossposted on mox-writes for notification purposes! Please reblog and comment! <3

Masterlist | Mox-Writes

You almost tripped into the motel room as the tall, bulky man with you practically tossed you inside. Fumbling toward the bed, you got your bearings by sitting on the mattress with a bounce. You watched his every move. He stood straight; he was emotionless and quiet as he shut the door and locked it, eyeing the surroundings from the window to make sure you weren't followed.

You weren't sure why he saved you, and honestly, neither was he. But when he brought you to the Hydra base and they started testing on you like they'd done with him, something ignited in him and he broke you out, killing anyone in his path. He hadn't said a word to you, only glared as if to see if you were okay–or it could've been with hatred, you couldn't tell.

That was seven days ago. You had been traveling with him to God knows where, tossed into rooms and being watched while you slept. There was one moment where he softened up, and strictly because he was injured. Hydra had found you two days in and had shot him square in the gut. After he managed to get you to safety, he attempted to patch up his wound himself but was doing a pretty lax job of it. You offered to help after seeing how haphazard his patchwork was, and after he gave you a steely glare of death, had actually allowed you to stitch it.

He still never spoke, just loomed and watched. And admittedly, you watched him too. He was a gorgeous man, his long dark hair and blue eyes were mesmerizing; the way he’d tuck loose strands behind his ear only for it to fall forward again with a glimmer of annoyance in his eye. He'd grown more scruff on your journey and you found it almost irresistible. Almost because he was the man that got you into this whole dangerous situation to begin with. However, you couldn't help but have growing feelings for him after he repeatedly saved you and brought you food. And it wasn’t like he was mean, though any little act of kindness was enough for you, your bar for men was practically in hell.

You didn't even know his name, only that Hydra called him Soldier, or rather, Soldat. You'd ask him, trying to engage him in some type of conversation, but he never budged. He never said a word, not even an affirming glint in his eye as you tried to guess his name. Paul? Jack? John? Demitri? Xavier? You tried the most to least common names you could think of, every day a new set of names would pop into your head and you'd try again. It was like talking to a brick wall. You'd flick through the channels of the crappy motel TV and ask, "is it Chuck? No, you don't look like a Chuck, maybe Dean? Sam? Nothing? Maybe you don't have a name, maybe you were born and they just called you Boy Number 11," you'd shrug and change the channel again.

As he took off his gun from around his body, he slid down the wall into his usual sitting position. He faced the door, gun in his lap and eyes trained on you. You sighed, knowing the routine all too well. You'd take a nap while he kept watch and would be woken up in four hours to be on the move again, in silence.

"Ya know, you could at least say good night, it's only polite," you shrugged, folding back the blanket and inspecting it for any stains or bugs. You didn't look at him, you knew he wasn't going to respond but you talked anyway.

“Don’t you get tired? I mean, you look exhausted, no offense,” you glanced at him, seeing his eyes shift from the door to you for a second then back to their previous spot. “Right, so you should at least take a nap. There’s plenty of space on the bed, I don’t mind sharing. Hell, I’ll even take the floor.” He didn’t move, not risking another look at you again.

Something about you made him feel different, like a memory that he couldn’t quite recall. It bothered him. He was trained to kill, to complete the mission, and report back to Hydra. But when he saw you in that chair being shocked, a strange feeling came over him, it was like he wasn’t who he thought he was but he just couldn’t remember anything other than what he was told. The longer you were together, the more he felt like that like there was something missing, some piece to a puzzle he couldn’t figure out. You were humanizing him and he didn’t realize he needed it.

You kicked off your shoes and took off your jacket, laying it on the smoke-stained chair that was pushed in against a table. You looked down at yourself, your clothes were dirty and bloody, covered in mud, dust, and god-knows-what. You were desperate for a shower and a clean set of clothes, but seeing as you were on the run, you didn’t exactly have a change of clothes to get into. Alas, you decided that this mysterious soldier would just have to put up with your attempt at getting clean, even if that meant staying in the motel for a few hours longer than usual.

“Look, I need to bathe and I don’t want to put on the same dirty clothes, so I gotta at least rinse them in the tub. Which means we have to wait for them to dry, just letting you know.” You gestured with your hands, giving a small shrug and heading toward the bathroom. The soldier didn’t protest, but you heard him breathe a lengthy sigh; at least it was a reaction.

You came out of the bathroom in just a towel. You scrubbed your clothes as best you could with a little bit of hand soap, rinsing them in the tub, and hanging them to dry on the shower rod. You walked past him, still sitting on the floor with his eyes trained on the entrance. You held the towel in place so that it didn’t fall, although you weren’t totally against the idea of him seeing you in the nude, he was pretty cute.

You sat on the bed, tucking yourself under the blanket and letting the towel rest beneath you, uncovering most of your figure. Your body ached, it longed for the comfort of a soft bed, something cozy and clean, something familiar. You felt a little better after your shower, and it was enough for you to drift off to sleep, saying an unrequited goodnight to your rescuer.

Two hours later, you woke up shivering. The crisp air of winter seeped through the poorly sealed window and door of the motel. You pulled the blanket up to your chin, trying to snuggle deeper into the bed for warmth that wouldn’t arrive. You looked over at the man on the floor; he was still awake and watching the door, it didn’t appear that he had moved much. He looked cold, his cheeks and nose were flushed pink, and you swore you could see the goosebumps on his neck.

“Ya know, you’re allowed to get in the bed, you look cold and there’s plenty of space up here,” you pulled the blanket to expose the empty side of the mattress, inviting him in. He only glanced at you, not saying a word–not that you expected him to. You sighed and let your head rest against the pillow.

“Or, you could come over here and warm me up. If you’re going to drag me around the country, you could at least do that,” you shrugged, turning over to face the other wall. You tried to wrap the blanket around you, curling up into a ball and closing your eyes. Unexpectedly, the bed dipped and you felt him sit with his back against the headboard. You perked up and turned over, seeing him sit with one leg extended and the other pulled up with his foot flat against the mattress.

You didn’t say anything, just smiled and pressed your body against his extended leg. He was cold like you thought, but the embrace of another body quickly warmed the both of you up. You gently put the blanket over his leg and he tensed up, flashing his cold blue eyes to your movements and grabbing your wrist. His grip was tight, the way you’d grab an enemy to stop an attack. His face was full of alarm and confusion.

“Relax, it’s okay, I just want you to be warm too,” he hesitated, it looked as if he was processing the moment, taking in what was happening and trying to analyze it in every possible way. Finally, he relaxed just a little and let you cover him but stayed in his position, still quiet. He held his gun against his chest, the long rifle an intimidating sight above your head. You hadn’t been this close to him the entire time you were on the run–even when you were patching up his wound, he kept you at arm's length. He was large and muscular, the dark clothes he wore hugging him perfectly. His left arm was metal and you could see your reflection in the silver.

You rested your head on his hip, slinging your arm over his thigh and gripping the blanket to trap the warmth. He looked down at you getting comfortable, he didn’t know how to register the newfound closeness; something was stirring in him that he couldn’t describe. His face remained flush but this time it wasn’t because of the cold, he was blushing.

After a couple minutes, you couldn’t get the weapon out of your mind. You tried to ignore it but the looming presence kept you from getting back to sleep. You looked up at the gun, uncomfortable with a loaded weapon being in bed with you. As your eyes trailed the length of the gun to his face, you saw him glance at you.

“I know you’re being protective and everything, and I appreciate that, don’t get me wrong. But the gun is kinda scary, Mystery Man,” you pulled your eyebrows together, waiting for him to say something or move the gun away. You saw a small hint of embarrassment? In his eyes and after a moment, he placed the gun on the bedside table. The corner of your mouth twitched, holding back a smile as you nestled back into him with a “thanks”. He rested his flesh hand on the handle of the knife that sat in a holster on his thigh, ready to extract and throw it if need be.

Despite his unsettling feelings over saving you, he didn’t want to scare you. It was a strange feeling for him, normally he wouldn’t care, normally anyone who had no purpose to him would be dead, but he wanted you to be safe. Especially the longer you were together. Your guessing game of his name went unanswered because he wasn’t even sure what his name was, every one that you said didn’t feel right, although the J’s and B’s felt a little closer, but it wasn’t quite there. All he knew was that he had a strange sense to protect you.

The new warmth and absence of the gun weren’t enough for you to fall back asleep. His closeness was drawing new feelings from your body that you tried to stifle to no avail. You wondered if he felt it too; you could tell he was getting gentler with you, some would say he even cared about you. You didn’t know how long it had been, if ever, since someone treated him well–especially sexually.

The arousal that filled your body as it was pressed against his couldn’t be ignored any longer. You chanced a glance at him, seeing his eyes look heavy as he watched the door. He looked so tired, you just wanted him to relax and get some sleep. Maybe I can help him sleep, you thought to yourself, flicking your eyes to the belt of his pants. You bit your bottom lip, playing out the scenario in your head and wondering if it was a good idea. You decided to try, slowly inching your fingers closer to his inner thigh. He looked down at the movement, feeling your hand slip across his body until it was pressed between his thick legs.

His eyes were wide, suddenly wide awake and surprised by what was happening, unsure how to react. He didn’t expect you to feel that way about him and he didn’t expect himself to feel it either, all he could do was watch as you trailed your fingertips up the zipper of his pants. You could feel him twitch under your touch, his pants getting tighter as he grew beneath them. You looked up at him to see him watching intently. The room was dark, the only light came from the moon through the blinds and cast a shadow over his face. Only his eyes were lit and they were filled with a confused lust.

“Is this okay?” you asked as you fiddled with his belt, watching for any sign that you should stop. He was nervous, uncertainty running through his mind as he battled with himself over the feeling. He wanted it, yes, but he had been so deprived of any kind of love that it felt out of place for him. He didn’t speak, only clenched his jaw and softly nodded yes, deciding to take a chance on the feelings that were rising in his body. You smiled, eyes glinting with adoration and kindness, taking it slow so you didn’t make him uncomfortable. You undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and slipped your hand into his boxer briefs. He was already hard and aching for relief. He was long and thick, a veiny shaft met your eager hand and twitched under your touch.

You curled your fingers around him, the tightness of his boxers pressing you harder against his member, making it hard to stroke him properly. The tease alone almost brought him to orgasm. It had been years since he felt any pleasure, just going from war to war and never having a moment’s peace.

“Can I take them off?” you removed your hand and gently tugged on his pants, asking for permission to reveal him fully. He nodded again. You wished you could hear his voice, to hear your name roll of his tongue as he fucked you, but he remained silent. He lifted his hips from the bed as you slipped off his pants, exposing just how big he was. Your eyes widened at the sight, swallowing hard as you imagined him fucking you.

As you crawled up his legs under the blanket, it opened enough for him to see your naked body. He watched you with lustful eyes, seeing your perfect frame come up his body. You stopped when your hips were lined up with his and sat down, his cock pressed against your throbbing wetness. He parted his lips and breathed deeply, the anticipation almost killing him. You watched his face, you could see him twisting inside, waiting to feel you around him. You pressed your hands against his chest, his leather vest still hugging his body, and leaned forward until your lips were almost touching his.

“You’re so gorgeous,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. His eyes softened. No one had ever complimented him like that before, it was odd for him to hear the words. He moved his hands to your hips, the moonlight gracing your bare body like a chiaroscuro painting.

“I wish I knew your name, I want to moan it in your ear as you fill me up,” you whispered low, grazing your lips across his cheek to his ear. He furrowed his brows, pained that he couldn’t tell you, he wanted to hear it fall from your lips but he just couldn’t remember. You rolled your hips, sliding your clit across his shaft slowly, coating him in your wetness. His grip on your hips tightened, lust taking over his body and sending tingles across his skin. You moaned softly, closing your eyes and pressing your cheek against his as you lifted your hips and lined up his tip to your entrance.

“Fuck me,” a name flashed in your head, like a sign from the universe, an instinct that slipped out of your mouth in the next second, “fuck me, James.” You looked in his eyes, realization washing over them, like a flood of memories being replayed in a montage.

“Bucky.” He spoke finally. His voice was low and guttural, it immediately sent goosebumps down your spine and twisted your stomach in knots. “James Bucky Barnes.” one of his hands went to your cheek, pressing your face down to his as his lips meshed with yours. You moaned against him, newfound confidence came over him and he panted into your mouth. You pushed your hips down against his body, sliding his thick cock into your vagina, feeling him stretch you out so perfectly, so deliciously that you gasped out your next moan.

Bucky, Bucky, it was so perfect. A name that finally fit. He was overcome by his emotions of simply remembering his name, it beckoned a gentle dominance in him and he took control. Bucky’s metal hand guided your hips back and forth, rocking you gently on his cock, slipping in and out ever so slightly to get you comfortable. You moaned against his wet lips, tongues clashing together and tasting every inch of the other’s mouth.

“Oh, Bucky,” you moaned in between kisses. His chest heaved as he heard his name, the intensity of his lust growing by the second. “Your cock feels so good,” you slid one hand down his chest, holding yourself steady as you slid further from his cock then back down. Bucky groaned, the cold air chilling the wetness on his thick member before being encased in your warmth again.

Bucky’s rough hands gripped your back, pressing you tight against his chest before rolling over and pinning you to the mattress. His long hair fell around his face and curtained yours underneath him. You could barely see his eyes until you tucked the right side of his hair behind his ear, exposing his skin to the moonlight. You looked at him in awe. He truly was gorgeous, the most handsome man you’d ever seen. Your hand stayed on his face and you stroked his cheek with your thumb. Bucky looked at you for a moment, taking in your beauty. He felt warm, comfortable, and stable when he was with you. Like he was meant for more than being the winter soldier.

After a moment, he brought his lips back down to yours in a soft kiss. A gentleness he didn’t know he was capable of. Your hands moved to the back of his head, holding his hair in place as his kisses became more ravenous. He kissed and sucked on your lips, moving down your jaw to your neck. Bucky was still inside you, his cock throbbing in your wet warmth, begging to be stroked again. He began thrusting his hips, his eyes capturing yours as he slid slowly out, pounding back in with a quick and hard thrust. You gasped at the movement, it knocked the wind from your lungs each time and he groaned into your neck.

You wrapped your legs around his waist to open yourself up more, allowing him unrestrained access to fuck you deeper. Bucky sped up, wet slapping filling the cold air as he grunted through each thrust. Your moans got louder, falling on his ears like sweet music, his name trembling out from your lips between moans and curses.

“B-Bucky, you feel so good, f-fuck, you fuck me so good,” your walls were clenching as he melted into your words. The affirmations only made him hornier. His teeth pulled your skin roughly enough to leave behind marks, a symbol of his pleasure that you would wear confidently. It only took a few more thrusts for him to feel the knot in his stomach tighten, his metal hand cupping your cheek and other hand on your thigh as he gave you his last rough thrusts, spilling his warm load into your dripping pussy.

The sound he made was feral, a loud gritted grunt that turned into a little guttural battlecry. You immediately felt your own orgasm snap in your stomach, spilling out onto his veiny cock as he rode out the rest of his high. Your legs were trembling around his body, becoming too weak to stay wrapped, and eventually fell to the mattress. Bucky stayed inside you for a moment while he caught his breath, panting into your skin as he settled back down to earth. After a moment, he rolled off your body and sat on the edge of the bed. You looked at his back, waiting to see what he would do next. Would he stay in bed with you? Go back to his spot on the floor?

Bucky stood from the bed without a word, walking around it and heading to the bathroom. You furrowed your brows, was he really just going to discard you like that? Not even say a word to you? You curled up under the blanket, suppressing a sob that wanted to break out. After a second, Bucky came out with a warm, wet rag and stood beside the bed. Oh.

“Can I?” he spoke softly, motioning toward your messy thighs. You blushed, heat burning your cheeks at the thought of him cleaning you up.

“Sure, yeah,” despite having just exposed yourself to him, you couldn’t help the blush that tingled under your skin as he cleaned up the mess the two of you made, wiping gently down your thighs where your orgasm sprayed further than you thought. Once you were clean, he took the rag back to the bathroom and turned on the shower. No more than 3 minutes later, he came back out, towel around his waist, damp hair messily framing his face, and glistening chest on full display. He climbed back into bed next to you and timidly glanced over, a shyness in his eyes as he wasn’t sure if you’d want to lay on him.

You took the initiative to turn on your side and lay your arm across his body, he smelled nice. Granted, it was the cheapest motel soap imaginable, but it was better than the week-long sweat from before. You weren’t even bothered by it though, the pure lust you felt for him had taken a hold of your body and you didn’t care about his dirty vest or unbathed body.

Bucky was gentle as he wrapped his arm around your back, hugging you closer to him and letting his guard down just a bit. He still had his weapons in reach, but with you on his side, he felt a type of security he’d never felt before. You made him feel whole, special, and human.

“Uh, thanks,” he spoke softly. You looked up at him with confusion, unsure what he could possibly be thanking you for.

“For what?” he looked down at you, blue eyes boring into yours like he found his purpose in life. He couldn’t describe the feeling that had his heart clenched tight, it was new and frightening. He wasn’t sure how to navigate it, he felt fear for the lack of control he had over it. Over love.

“For making me remember.” Your face softened, tears almost welling up in your eyes. You shoved your head back down to his chest, snuggling in deep and tightening your hold on him. You were glad he saved you from Hydra because now you saved him.

[midnightswithdearkatytspb]

VelvetCardiganBucky’s Recommendations 2021: Week 12 & 13 | March 14th – March 27th

Welcome to weeks 12 & 13 of my recommendations, if you would like to be featured on a future list, I follow the hashtag #VelvetCardiganBucky, message me, tag me in your future works, or reblog this post and link to your story, one-shot, Masterlist, writing challenge, etc.

Be aware some if not most stories and writers on this list are meant to be consumed by an audience of those 18+. My blog is also an 18+ blog.

✨Page breaks are made @firefly-graphics✨

«Last Week

Week 14»

My Masterlist

My Fic Rec List of Mafia/Mob Bucky/Sebastian & Steve/Chris/Andy

Stuff I Posted This Week:

Steve + Bey = 4Ever » Steve Rogers and Bey carved places in each other’s hearts, that no one else could ever replace.

I Hear A Symphony » Bucky Barnes x Mutant!Reader — Reader plays an important song to her for Bucky.

—Formerly The Winter Soldier » “I’m no longer the winter soldier, my name is James Bucky Barnes & you're part of my effort to make amends.”

Lee Bodecker

(Mini) Series:

*Give In by @not-a-great-writer » soft!dark!Lee Bodecker x shy!Reader — She didn’t think she was anything special. So when the intimidating Sheriff takes an interest in her, she can’t help but feel a little unsettled. Her boring life is about to get a little interesting. | This story has to be one of my all time series I’ve ever read, and I know I will weep when it’s over. The chapters are decently sized, you have angst, fluff and smut. I couldn’t ask for more, it’s simply a masterpiece.

Deadbeat Pt. 9 by @the-witty-pen-name » Lee Bodecker x F!Reader — You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room. | Cole thank you for feeding my current Lee Bodecker obsession after I watched The Devil All The Time, for the time. This story is good and I love soft!Lee, and one where no one dies. At least I hope no one dies...

SamBucky

One-Shots:

Loving You Is Cherry Pie by @river-soul » Sam Wilson x Reader x Bucky Barnes — When Sam Wilson, one of your regulars at the cafe finally asks you out, you’re ecstatic until he tells you he wants his friend to join. When you meet Bucky, you decide it might be worth your while after all. [Allusions to stalking, exhibitionism and explicit sex, 18+] | There is just not enough SamBuck stories out there and we have @river-soul to thank for feeding our love for the boys and giving us some good smut, especially to tide us over till Friday.

Nothing Good Happens After 2 AM by @callmeluna » Sam Wilson x Reader x Bucky Barnes — You are admittedly a handful when you’ve had a few drinks in you. Luckily, your partners Sam and Bucky are more than up for the challenge… maybe. | If you are looking for something to make you laugh, might I suggest reading this? The whole time as I read this I couldn’t get the huge smile off my face, it was that good.

Bucky Barnes

Drabbles:

Matching by @heli0s-writes » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Reader and Bucky are “matchy matchy,” with their belly button rings. | This is adorable as well as very funny.

One-Shots:

Smooth Criminal by @bestofbucky » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Based on a dream @velvetcardiganbucky had. You’re parents told you to never give rides to strangers, but when you notice Bucky Barnes trying to break into your car, you know some strangers aren’t so bad. | Jenny did my dream justice! I honestly couldn’t have asked for anything better.

Don’t Over Do It by @whisperlullaby » Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your boyfriend is an asshole. Bucky reminds you that you are perfect the way you are. | I can’t describe this anyway other than perfect, that I wish I had a Bucky like this there for me. Trust me you’ll love the ending.

Coming Home to You by @angrythingstarlight » Biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your Biker boyfriend is finally home and he’s going to show you how much he missed you. With every inch he has. And you’re going to remember how much he loves you. | It’s not very often you read something that has an alternate ending and when you do you find yourself loving both endings. Both endings are hot, the smut is great, again who couldn’t love Biker!Bucky?

Won’t Let You Go by @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay » Mob!Bucky Barnes x OFC!Kori — Kori met Bucky in one of his clubs, out to get shit-faced with a couple of friends to forget about her worries and maybe take home a guy to further rid herself of her numerous frustrations. Little did she know that the one-night stand with Bucky would turn into so much more than that. | Thank you so much for entering my writing challenge, it means so much. This one-shot is so good, it hit me right the feels and left me falling in love with Kori and Bucky.

Show Me How To Ride by @angrythingstarlight » Beefy Biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader — You’ve been keeping a secret from your biker boyfriend. He is going to get the information out of you one way or the other. | It’s hot and it makes you realize just how much you realize just how much you love Biker!Bucky.

Bubble Baths by @floatingpetals » Bucky Barnes x Reader (Modern AU) — Even your boyfriend Bucky, needs to wind down at the end of a stressful with a bubble bath, but he doesn’t want to do it alone. | Okay, so my summary of this sucks but let me just say this is fluffy and smutty all at once. I wish I had Bucky to take a bubbly bath with.

Bad Boy!Bucky Barnes x Shy!Reader by @gagmebucky — in which there’s nowhere to sit and bucky offers his lap—then, subsequently, his cock. (bad boy!bucky x shy!reader, dirty talk, exhibitionism and voyeurism, cockwarming, unprotected sex.) | *chugs water* yeah is it a little hot in here? I probably would have failed class if Bucky had been in my class along with Steve, I wouldn’t have known who to stare at, forget learning the material.

**Greater Good by @fuel-joy » Bucky Barnes x Reader — There is a cure for the zombie outbreak but is it worth the cost. | Grab your tissues, because you are going to need them. Thanks darling for entering my writing challenge and making me feel so many feels with this one.

(Mini) Series:

A Tender Heart ♥️ Pt. 2 by @river-soul » Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader — You’ve been sweet on Bucky since you started working at the compound six months ago. Normally quiet and mild mannered, an unexpired fight with a coworker brings Bucky into your orbit. [A/B/O dynamics, brief mention of bullying and fluff] | If anyone can pull at your heartstrings it’s @river-soul making the beginning of this series look so promising and I can’t wait to see where it goes.

Run To You 🪙 Pt. 10 🪙 Pt. 11 🪙 Pt. 12 by @bestofbucky » Mob!Bucky Barnes x Bodyguard!Reader — Mob boss Bucky Barnes hires you to be his bodyguard. | Jenny left me at the edge of my seat, making this such an amazing story, I always look forward to her updates, and so sad that there is only 1 chapter left.

Better than Working sequel to This by @angrythingstarlight » Beefy Biker!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Beefy Biker Bucky shows you all the benefits of working from home. In fact what he has for you is so much better than work. | Sometimes you just need to read something hot to lift your spirits, let this do that.

Stucky

One-Shots:

*Tell Me What You Want by @angrythingstarlight » Mafia!Steve Rogers x Reader; Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Reader — Your mob boyfriend, is none other than Steve Rogers and he is willing to get you whatever you wanted, all you have to do is ask. And be careful what you ask for because he’s going to give it to you over and over again. | This is so hot that I highly recommend not reading this anywhere out in public. The smut in this is just *chefs kiss*

(Mini) Series:

Miracle Pt. 2 🥀 Pt. 1 by @heavenhatesme » Soft!Dark!Bucky Barnes x Reader; Soft!Dark!Steve Rogers x Reader — When infertility threatens mankind with extinction and there hasn’t been a baby for almost 18 years, what happens when two certain super soldiers fall for the same woman and accidentally impregnate her? | It’s not tagged as dark, sorry to the writer I tagged it that please forgive me? But I just want to tell everyone heed the tags. I do look forward to reading what happens next. The smut in this is great!

Invisible Ink by @navybrat817 » Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader; Bucky Barnes x Reader x Steve Rogers — The owners of the Howling Commandos Tattoo Parlor want to make you their best girl. | I love the idea of tattoo’d Bucky and Steve, but that's because I have a weakness for tattoo’s. So this series is just right up my alley, and the start of it is so good that I know it’s good to be a great one!

Steve Rogers

Drabbles:

Chocolate Milk & Dino Nuggets by @nony-bear » Steve Rogers x Reader — Daddy Steve helps make his little girl feel better after a long week. DDLG THEMES | Had me wishing I had a Steve to make me Dino nuggets after a long day at work. It’s precious folks.

Prompt 4K Drabble Challenge by @sweeterthanthis » Steve Rogers x Reader — “Show me how deep you can take it.” | You’re going to need an ice cold bath after this one.

One-Shots:

A Cruel Tide by @writerwrites » Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader — A lost hero thinks she needs saving, but this divorcée’s needs were different, fleeting, and then full of attachment. Can they overcome the burdens on their shoulders and keep their word? | Sometimes you want to wrap the reader and Steve in a blanket and protect them while enjoying the smut. This gave me that and more.

Untitled Request by @navybrat817 » Steve Rogers x Reader — Sending Steve a naughty photo while he’s in a meeting leads to punishment that will remind you to never do it again, right? | Hi, I’m just going to drench myself in ice cold water. ✌🏻

(Mini) Series:

*Control Pt. 3 🔐 Pt. 1 🔐 Pt. 2 by @river-soul » dark!Steve Rogers x Reader — When a probationary agent asks you out on a date you learn Steve’s intentions for you have evolved. He doesn’t take kindly to someone touching what’s his. [Noncon, physical violence (biting), grooming behavior and explicit sex, 18+] | Definitely one of my favorite series to read on Tumblr so far, you know it’s dark, and the smut is great. I always look forward to the updates on this one.

*Lipstick and Crayons 🖍 Ch. 4 by @oneoftheprettynerds » Dark Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve can’t ever repay you for what you did. After meeting you, Steve believes his broken family is the missing piece in the puzzle of your own wrecked one. Indebting the crime lord to you has been the biggest mistake of your life, cause now you can’t get rid of him, no matter what. Loyalty and favours go a long way in the mob. | This story always gets my heart a racing and leaves you with questions as to what is going to happen next. I truly love it and Soft!Dad while being Angry!Mob boss Steve all at the same time, this story just has it all for me.

This Is My Unbecoming by @river-soul » Werewolf!Steve Rogers x Witch!Reader — When the Hydra pack graduates from turning humans to swell their ranks to kidnapping and murdering witches to consolidate power, Steve knows he needs to strike. He makes a deal with a powerful coven leader for a witch of his own in exchange for destroying the rogue pack. [Magical realism, biting, blood, slightly dubious consent and explicit sex, 18+] | Okay this is so good and I would like to thank the teenage mind of @river-soul for creating this! Like seriously thank you. I look forward to reading more!

It’s been a long, long time ☕️ Ch.1 by @mostly-marvel-musings » Steve Rogers x Reader — Steve Rogers – a man who has lost too much finds himself blending into the crowd in attempts to forget his past but revisits familiar places and spends days sketching his heart out. A rainy evening leads him to find shelter in your coffee shop. Is having meaningful conversations over endless cups of coffee with a stranger the key to unlocking a heart that’s lost the will to love? | The prologue tore my heart out, it truly did but the first chapter just puts the pieces back together. I really love this and I’m honestly looking forward to reading what happens next. I can’t thank you enough for entering my writing challenge!

*Not A Team Part: 1 by @shedobewritingalittle » Steve Rogers x Reader — The Reader tries to live a normal life, but her memories won’t leave her alone. Rhodey comes to visit the reader with a proposition. | There aren't a lot of stories out there that have walk on parts with Rhodey in it and I didn’t know how much I missed out on having him in stories till I read this. This was just so well written and the characterization of Rhodey was perfect, how Peyton got the emotions written across, it’s perfect. Read this and have some tissues on hand. I will always love it.

Andy Barber

One-Shots:

Closing Arguments by @river-soul » Andy Barber x Reader — Andy and you are going out for the first time since your daughter’s birth. Anxious about leaving her behind Andy does his best to make you feel better. [Fluff with explicit sex (f recieving), 18+] | So fluffy and sweet!

Keep the Heat by @ozarkthedog » Andy Barber x Reader — Andy fucks you in the coat. | Semi-Short and the smut is oh so good.

(Mini) Series:

Homebound 🏡 Ch. 1 by @fuel-joy » Dark!Andy Barber x Reader — You witness your neighbor kill his wife. You try to gather evidence all from the comfort of your home. | Prepare to be at the edge of your seat with this one, it’s just that good.

One Night by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor » Dark!Andy Barber x Reader — One night changes your entire life. | This is dark and exciting, with tons of angst in it. I love a real good dark!Andy fic and this is it.

Chris Evans

One-Shots:

Mirrors by @cherrychris » Chris Evans x Reader — “wanna know what i see? me owning you and this sweet little pussy” | Sometimes you read things that just blow your mind and this was one of those things.

*Work Party by @harrylovex » Chris Evans x Reader — you get drunk at a work party and chris looks after you… | This is really adorable and probably one of my favorite fluffy Chris Evans one-shots I’ve ever read.

Misc.

One-Shots:

An Act of Kindness by @stargazingfangirl18 » Jake Jensen x Female!Reader — A simple act of kindness seals your fate. | I would like to simply start of by saying that this was my first Jake Jensen fanfiction in years, or maybe my first one, and all I could was where have I been hiding from him? So good and glad I read this and so will you!

*Come Back Safe by @celestialbarnes » Sam Wilson x Reader — based on tfatws, you find out sam’s leaving for a mission, afraid to lose the man you love, you confront him, and he promises you to come back. | So fluffy you’ll want to cuddle it under a blanket fort and wish under a thousand starry night skies for it to come true.

(Mini) Series:

Fiery Friends Pt. 3 🔥 Pt. 4 by @wanderinglunarnights » Johnny Storm x OFC!Sophia Jones — Johnny invites his best friend Sophia to stay with him in his penthouse during quarantine. | I really like this story, because I find myself mentally rooting for Sophia and Johnny, also going you go girl. Looking forward to what is next for this duo.

Ensnared Pt. 2 🔗 Pt. 1 by @stargazingfangirl18 » Ransom Drysdale x Female!Reader; minor Robert Pronge (Mr. Freezy) x Reader — Robert preps you for the handoff to the smooth talking stranger who bought you, but before he lets you go, he wants to have a little fun first. | So good and hot. Honestly I look forward to hopefully finding out what happens between the reader and Ransom.

Made With Love by @ayybtch » Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader + Friends to Lovers — Wanda is an excellent cook but a terrible baker. A rough day leads her to the bakery in the Avengers compound where she meets you, the lead baker. After a dismal attempt at making chocolate chip cookies, you volunteer to help Wanda learn how to bake. Your friendship grows stronger with each successful recipe until the two of you stumble into something even sweeter than baked goods. | This story will constantly have you smiling, sure it’s only 3 chapters so far, but I started off reading it in a bad mood but by the 3rd chapter I was just so sappy and happy. I can’t wait for more!

Without Me by CuttingMyFingersOff » Legolas x OFC!Braigeth — Braigeth was an elf who has nothing but memories of Legolas to help her survive being imprisoned in the walls of Orthanc. That is, until she is able to escape and reunite with him. | I’ve been invested in this since my friend came forward to me with the idea for this story and now that it’s being written, I couldn’t be more excited to read it. I need more Lord of the Rings in my life if I’m being honest.

Forever and Ever More by @syntheticavenger » Dark Alpha!Ransom Drysdale x Omega!Reader — Ransom Drysdale may be Boston’s most eligible Alpha but he has his eyes set on you. With his inheritance hanging in the balance, he won’t take no for an answer, whether you like him or not. | Prepared to go on a Hawaiian EMOTIONAL roller coaster with this story, there are so many times in this story you find yourself picking your jaw up off the floor. I’ve linked you to chapter 9, which has all the previous chapters, listed.

Is A Shout Out To My...

@bluemusickid in celebration of 700 followers is hosting a Holi Celebration Writing Challenge, that is due April 30th, but extension can be given. Any Marvel or MCU characters can be used in addition to Chris Evans and his characters. The theme is Holi and its colors, for better explanation visit the link provided.

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[southern-god1]

Can I become a action figure of myself for a bored master? So whenever he is bored he can play with me or use my plastic body to pleasure himself? Maybe with a southern flag instead of story company logo branded into me?

You wake up in the middle of the night, hearing footsteps in your living room. Approaching cautiously after calling 9-1-1, you are baffled to see a massive titan of a man standing in your living room, eating what appears to be milk and cookies. He stood at least 7 feet tall, had a huge thick brown beard, and a massive gut. A huge red bag was swung over his shoulder. Who was this man and how had he broken into your house?!? As you stood, utterly flabbergasted, he looked down as though having only just noticed you. He smirked down at you, and boomed in a deep voice, a Southern accent booming out.

“Ho ho ho, what have we here? A puny little Yankee?”

You stared uncomprehendingly, thinking perhaps this was some bizarre fever dream. You were startled out of this by a huge, room-shaking BBUUURRPP, the loud burp bringing you back to the here and now. As you coughed, the huge daddy bear smirked.

“You’ve been a bad little Yankee this year! You made a joke about how ya wished Florida would sink and “drown all the hillbilly’s”, and joked about how every Southerner is a “cousin-fucker” a few weeks ago! Well fuck you Yankee, your on my naughty list! Time to make you into something better.”

The colossal Santa snapped his fingers and smirked down at you, and you shivered: it felt as cold as a New England winter for some reason! Your skin was freezing, and as you rubbed your arms, you noticed your flesh was rapidly becoming cold, hard. You couldn’t move your arms any more, and they straightened and then stiffened. The enormous daddy bear seemed to grow even bigger as you shrank, diminishing to a fraction of your height.

Your body stiffened, no longer capable of moving independently, your arms and legs stiffening, nearly tipping you over from the sudden lack of mobility. Your hair became a dark black, your eyes becoming hard plastic blue eyes, your ability to see diminishing as your eyes become locked in, unable to move.

Your clothing began to change as well, becoming a stiff, itchy fabric made of a dark blue material, as a hat of the same material formed on your head. The enormous Santa stud grabbed you and smirked down at your puny body, using a beefy finger to rub where your crotch should be, immediately turning you on despite your fear, and frustrating you because you no longer had a cock! Continuing to rub for a few more moments, Santa grinned and set you back down as a plastic and cardboard box began to form around you, complete with accessories.

You were now just a Union soldier action figure, to be given to a Southerner to use and abuse, and, being a toy representation of a Yankee, probably break or destroy eventually, either accidentally after years of rough play, or on purpose.

With a smirk, the Southern Santa stuffed you in his bag of other TFed toys and vanished, ready to give you to a new owner.

—

Because you wanted to be used and abused, I figured I’d turn ya into a Union toy rather than a Confederate one. More likely to end up broken that way.

[michaelmilligan]

May It Be

A Midam medieval/fantasy AU

Read on AO3

Adam woke up during the night, warm and with a light headache from the stuffy air in the tent. Maybe he should have sought more shade during the day, but it was a little late for such musings now. So he just climbed out of the bed, careful not to disturb Michael. After changing into some more outdoor-appropriate clothes, he left the tent, nodding to the soldiers on guard. Gadreel nodded back.

He didn't envy them. Well, the night watch might not have been so bad, at least compared to standing in the sun for hours on end during the day. But they still had to wear their armours and their swords, and Adam was already working up a sweat just walking down towards the lake front in his simple tunic.

Well, that was life, he supposed. They were simple soldiers, and he was the King's husband.

Adam was pretty sure that whatever his mother had envisaged for him, back before she passed and King John took him in, this wasn't it. He wondered sometimes what she would say to him if they could meet again. Would she be impressed with where he was now? Would she be worried about him?

Perhaps both.

Three years ago, he had been worried himself. He had barely met Michael before the marriage was agreed on, but he had also known that it was pretty much the only way to keep the fragile peace between their kingdoms. After all, King John had been a stubborn and prideful guy, but he would have thought twice about attacking someone who was technically his family.

King Dean, newly crowned a year ago, seemed to have less qualms about such things. At this point he'd threatened war so often Adam was frankly surprised Michael hadn't snapped and sent his own troops yet. Adam might have done it in his place.

Now they were on their way to another round of negotiations. Michael thought that bringing Adam this time would somehow help settle Dean's mind, but Adam wasn't convinced it would do anything.

Well, at least coming along meant that Michael wasn't off without him for weeks on end again. It did mean that Adam had to bear this stupid kingdom's heat again, though.

Where he grew up, it didn't get this warm. And in the kingdom of Angels, the temperature was always moderate. There was a variance of only about 30 degrees Fahrenheit between the highest temperatures in the summer and lowest temperatures in the winter, a far cry from the heat waves of this kingdom or the freezing winters of Adam's birthplace. It was comfortable, really, even though Adam did miss the snow sometimes.

Having arrived at the lake, Adam knelt down to drink and wash his face. The water was refreshing, if not especially cold, and so he stuck his hands back in to the wrists. If he could have just slept out here, or in the water... But, well. He needed to get back to the tent, back to Michael. Sleeping without him had become quite a pain at this point, and not only because Adam was constantly worried every time he was away. It was simply nicer to lie next to his husbands than to have the big bed in the palace to himself.

“So you're Prince Adam, huh,” a voice behind him suddenly said, making him jump.

Adam must have been lost in his thoughts, because he hadn't heard any footsteps at all.

“Who the hells-” he asked, turning around only to find an unarmed man behind him. He had his hands in the pockets of his utilitarian pants, seeming so unassuming that Adam might have walked by him in the streets and not have noticed him at all.

“No worries. I'm not an assassin in the night or anything.” The stranger's smile was slightly sharp. “Your brothers sent me.”

“My-” Adam glared at him. Who the hells did this man think he was, to sneak up on Adam and then talk about his family? He would have challenged him on it, but the man was standing between him and the camp, and just because he wasn't openly flouting a weapon didn't mean he didn't carry one. “What do you want?”

“To get you out of here. Like I said, Sam and Dean send their regards.”

Frowning, Adam took a step to the side, hoping to circle the man. If he was not using any titles for Sam and Dean, he was either brave, stupid, or very close to them. Since Adam had never seen him before, he would have gambled on one of the first two options. Then again, he hadn't seen or communicated with his brothers in three years.

A lot could happen in that time.

A lot had happened in that time, at least to him. For one, he'd grown, if he dared say so himself. From a naïve little boy who barely knew anything and was only technically a Prince to a King's husband who actually got consulted on matters not only of the Palace, but also of the State.

“Did they tell you I wanted out? My brothers.” That was rich. Really, really rich.

“Who wouldn't want out?” The guy grimaced as if at a particularly unpleasant memory, stepping closer. There wasn't much light, but Adam thought he'd seen his face somewhere before. He couldn't quite place him though... “Now hurry, we need to go before someone sees us!”

Adam stopped where he'd tried to circle him before. “You know there'll likely be war if I leave. Historically, stealing a King's spouse has rarely gone over very well.”

“There'll be war anyway. The only question is where you'll be when it starts.” The guy held out his hand.

So his brother's mind was set, then. Good to know. Adam took a step back, just as Michael came out of a shadow behind the guy and held a sword to his throat.

“Don't move,” Michael said, the steel in his voice harder than that in his hand. Adam had no doubt he'd take the guy's head off at the slightest twitch.

“Long time no see,” the guy said, oddly calm, “brother.”

Michael froze, and Adam stopped breathing for a moment. Brother... Then it hit him where he'd seen the guy's face before: On a family portrait in their rooms, the one tucked into the back of a closet...

“Gabriel?” Michael said, bewildered. “What-”

“Bet you thought you'd seen the last of my ugly face, huh?” Prince Gabriel's face twitched with a sour smile.

Michael stayed still for a moment, the grip on his sword wobbly. Then he tensed his muscles again. “I can't actually see your face right now,” he said, dead-pan. “What are you doing here?”

“Apparently my brothers sent him,” Adam butted in. While he wanted nothing more than for Michael to have a happy reunion with his brother, he also wouldn't just let him get by with trying to kidnap him.

“You're with the Winchesters?” Michael asked, confused.

“Eh. I'm on my own side, mostly. But yeah, I promised Sam- sorry, Prince Sam and King Dean that I'd get their brother back to them.” Prince Gabriel shifted, turning just a little bit towards Michael, still mindful of the blade near his head.

“Cute. One could almost think they care about me,” Adam said dryly.

Prince Gabriel sighed. “They're sorry they couldn't help you back then, kid. They'll make up for it now.”

“Oh, they couldn't help me, huh. Who says I wanted their help? Who says I want it now? You just said they're going to start a war anyway! Why would I want anything to do with them?!”

“It's not like they want a war! But some people-” Prince Gabriel turned further towards his brother. “-don't exactly leave them a choice.”

Michael opened his mouth, but Adam was faster. “Oh, bullshit!”

Prince Gabriel peered back at him. “Beg your pardon?”

“I said bullshit! They have every choice. The demands we make are completely reasonable, they're just too proud to compromise at all.”

“You?” Prince Gabriel sounded amused. “You mean Michael.”

“Him and all his advisors.” Which Adam was officially a part of – advisor on foreign affairs. Granted, the position hadn't existed before he'd taken it, but Michael had wanted him in the room when decisions were made. And the slot of advisor on health and alchemy was already taken by Raphael.

So, since he was from another kingdom and had lived part of his life in yet another kingdom, the title had seemed fitting.

“Dean said the demands are completely out of proportion,” Prince Gabriel countered, sounding annoyed. To be fair, Michael still had that sword up.

“Did you see it? Our list of demands?” Michael asked, far calmer now than before, though there was still fire behind his eyes.

“No.” Prince Gabriel shifted again, this time only in awkwardness. “Pretty sure Dean threw it into the fireplace before even Sam could see it.”

Adam sighed. “Yeah, that sounds like him. He just sees the word 'demands' and sees red. Probably didn't even read it.” Emboldened by the fact that Prince Gabriel had come to take him, not to kill him, he took a step towards him. “And whatever he told you about me, don't let him fool you. He doesn't care about me, not any more than he would about a stretch of dirt if it fell into the hands of the enemies. He's just angry that I'm here and that it would make him look bad if he attacked us.”

“That's not true,” Prince Gabriel said softly.

“What do you know?!” Adam didn't really know his sudden anger stemmed from, but it overcame him in a wave of acid and bitterness in his stomach. “I lived in that palace for almost eight years. Eight years! And do you have any idea how often Dean, or even Sam, so much as talked to me in that time? Huh? I'll tell you: A handful of times. If even! They don't care about me, and frankly, I couldn't care less about them! So sorry, but that whole spiel he probably gave you about how we're blood, about how you don't leave your family behind? He can take that and shove it up his royal ass!”

Michael raised an eyebrow at him, looking somewhere between startled and amused. Truth be told, Adam was a little embarrassed at his own outburst, but he didn't regret it. Everything he'd said was true.

“You're just angry at him because he couldn't help you back then, but-” Prince Gabriel started, but this time it was Michael who interrupted him.

“You should leave,” he said coldly. “And Adam stays here.”

“Keeping this kid prisoner isn't going to help you with-”

Michael's hand twitched, pressing the blade against Prince Gabriel's throat. “You already took a brother from me,” he hissed, “you're not taking my husband as well.”

“Oh, don't you dare!” Using a dagger that hadn't been in his hand a second ago, Prince Gabriel pried the sword off him to whirl around on his brother. “You're the one who pushed me out! After everything, after Luci-”

“Be quiet!”

They glared at each other for a moment. There were footsteps, the bustle of armour as soldiers drew near, probably alarmed by the yelling.

“Go,” Michael said, his face a stone mask. “Tell King Dean that is he wants to talk to my husband, he should write a letter or come to visit us. Not send a thief in the night.”

Prince Gabriel huffed, and for a split-second Adam thought he would stay, but then he quickly slinked away into the darkness. Only when he was out of sight did Adam take a breath of relief.

“Your majesties!” One of the approaching soldiers held up a lantern while the others spread out to search the lake front. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Michael said, eyes locking with Adam, who nodded. “Just a critter in the night.”

“It startled me,” Adam supplied, the perfect picture of bashful innocence. “You should have seen it though, it was almost the size of a man! Very frightening.” He gestured so exaggeratedly that the corners of Michael's mouth twitched upwards.

“Well, the deadly beast-” Michael shared a meaningful look with some of the soldiers “-has been scared away, and we should be safe to go back to bed.”

“My brave hero,” Adam said, fluttering his eyelashes, and saw Gadreel frown at them.

But he wouldn't question them. Certainly not in front of the other soldiers.

“Good night, your majesties,” Gadreel just said, with a slight bow.

They nodded at him and walked back up to the camp arm in arm, but in silence. Michael seemed thoughtful, almost melancholy.

Well, he had just seen his brother again for the first time in several years. Officially, Prince Gabriel was missing, but Adam knew from Michael that he'd simply run away at some point. The realization that his brother was now essentially working with the enemy must be a real blow to Michael. Adam wanted to say something to cheer him up, but he couldn't think of anything that wouldn't sound condescending or was a downright lie.

So they stayed silent on their way. Only when they were in the tent and Adam was changing into his night shirt again did Michael speak again.

“You stayed,” he said, sitting on the bed with his back to Adam. He had made no move yet to change his clothes, or even take off his shoes. “I wasn't sure you would, given the choice.”

Adam dropped what he was doing and sat down on the other side of the bed. “Why wouldn't I?” he asked softly, getting his legs onto the bed and shifting closer to Michael.

“Why would you?” came the flat reply.

When Adam gingerly touched his back, Michael tensed, then let out a deep breath.

“What I told Prince Gabriel is true. I don't care about Sam or Dean, and if they do somehow care about me, they have a funny way of showing that. Not that it matters.”

“And is your life here that much better?” Finally, Michael turned around to him, but he wasn't looking him in the eyes. “You didn't choose this. Your father and I arranged for the marriage, and you never even got a say.”

Slowly, Adam cupped his cheek, giving him time to pull away as he leaned in to press their lips together. Michael's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, then remained half-hooded. “I'm choosing it every day that we're together,” Adam told him. “Every night that I spend in your bed. Every morning that I wake up in your arms.”

There was something searching in Michael's gaze for a moment. “Why? Why choose me?”

Adam hummed. “And here I thought you'd ask about the mornings you wake up in my arms,” he teased, and kissed him again. Then he laid his head on Michael's shoulder, his hands sliding over the vast plains of Michael's back. After a moment of contemplation, Adam spoke again: “Look. I don't know what happened with your brothers. I don't know who was at fault or if any of you were at fault. Really, I don't know anything. Except how you treat me. What I know is that you're a good man.”

Michael made a disapproving sound and shifted on the bed, but Adam held him close by laying a hand on his neck.

“You are. At least to me. You like to hide the fact that you care, but I still know. You're not much for sweet words, but your actions speak loudly. You're a sweet man, and you spoil me rotten.”

Scoffing, Michael put his hand in Adam's hair, tangled his fingers in it. “Now I know you're talking nonsense.”

Adam clicked his tongue. “Need I remind you of the one hundred funnel cakes?”

Michael scoffed again. “That wasn't-”

“Or the new funds you added to the library's budget? Or how about the Wild Petunias that mysteriously appeared in the Green Houses after I mentioned I missed seeing them? Did you think I wouldn't notice? That I would take this all for coincidences?”

Michael sighed. “Those are small things.”

“Are they, really, when the joy they bring me is so great? But alright, then, what about my place as your advisor? The fact that I'm not just another stretch of land you annexed, not just another compromise you made for peace?”

In his father's palace, he hadn't even been that. He'd been the bastard son, the one they had all mostly tried to forget existed, including the servants.

He'd been nothing.

Now, with Michael, he was something. Someone.

He was valued.

“It's only logical. Your experience with the customs and cultures of different kingdoms-”

“Isn't unique. Many people have been to many more places than I have,” Adam argued.

For a moment, Michael was silent. “Well, I trust you more than them.”

Adam kissed him again. “You asked why I choose you. It's because you choose me. Because everything you do, whether you intend it or not, is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me. And – no, don't contradict me.” Adam put a finger over Michael's mouth as he opened it to speak. “You know I'm no good at talking about this either, so let me speak before I dissolve in utter embarrassment. Now, you may tell me it's not that important, that your actions aren't worth noticing, but they are. They are to me. And I... I care for you. You must know that.”

Michael pulled Adam against himself. “I care for you too,” he whispered into his hair.

“I'd hoped so.” Adam pressed a smile-shaped kiss to his chin. “This would have become rather awkward if you didn't.”

Michael just held him tightly.

[study-coffee-chicago]

Seasons of Med: Season 5 & Seasons of PD: Season 7: Necrotizing Fasciitis Scare (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

Your age: 18

Jay's age: 32

Will's age: 34

"I am going to get you to understand football at this game come hell or high water," Jay told you as you said that you really didn't understand anything about football while Kevin tried to hook up the tv. Kelly threw Jay the football and Jay caught it.

"Hell or high water, huh?" you asked. "Did you just turn southern? Isn't that a southern phrase?"

"I can say whatever I want, thank you were much. Now catch." He threw you the football and you caught it easily.

"Kelly, I can't promise this is gonna be a good throw, so be ready to move," you told him as you threw the football to him. He had to jump to the left and jump high to catch it.

"Y/N, you suck at this," he laughed.

"I know."

"Jay, teach your sister how to throw a football, will you?"

He threw the ball back to Jay.

All of you were currently at Soldier Field to watch the Bears' game on a Friday afternoon. Will was originally going to go with Jay and you were going to study for your biology class, even though it was summer. You had decided to take a summer biology class so then you wouldn't have to deal with it during the fall and winter semesters when you'd be drowning in homework with other classes...and you figured you could do this one in the summer because you had heard horror stories of how hard this specific professor at CCU was. Luckily for you, Will was a doctor and could help you understand those damn diagrams that always gave you trouble.

Anyway, Will was going to come, but he got put on the schedule last minute, so Jay dragged you here even though you didn't know the slightest bit about football. Hell, you didn't even have any Bears gear to wear! Jay had given you one of his hats to wear with the promise that he'd get it back.

"Y/N!" Hailey yelled to you. "Wanna run to Mama Garcia's food truck with me?"

"Yes!" you exclaimed.

"Hailey," Jay whined. "I was just about to teach her how to throw a football."

"Halstead, if she doesn't know yet, I'm sure you can wait a few minutes. Now, I need my Spanish-speaking Halstead to come with me."

You had taken AP Spanish last year and had gotten a good enough grade on the AP exam to give you twelve college credits. This was partly thanks to Mama Garcia. You had been studying in her restaurant one night when you asked her a question about a tense. She explained it and then said that if you ever wanted to practice speaking Spanish and make some money at the same time, that you could work or her under the table. You took her up on that offer and your Spanish improved immensely.

Once you got up to the window of the food truck, you ordered a big batch of tamales in Spanish and then translated how much it was to Hailey. Then, you and Hailey went back to Jay and the rest of all your brother's first responder friends.

Kelly was yelling at Stella, Hailey, and you not to break into the tamales before the burgers were done, but you all didn't listen and each grabbed one out of the box.

You were in the middle of eating yours when you heard a scream.

You went towards the scream along with Jay, Natalie, and Kelly, but Jay made sure you stayed behind him. But, this didn't block your entire view, though.

You looked down at this man's leg. It was red and it looked like there was a giant gash on his shin with puss, blood, and flesh coming out. Things were moving underneath the skin. He was seizing and he kept saying BRT.

It was all too much. You took the Bears hat off.

"Y/N, I need you to get away from this. Whatever this guy has, I don't want you to--"

Jay didn't even finish his sentence before you vomited into that he had let you use, using it as a makeshift bowl for your puke.

He gently grabbed your arm and pulled you to the side after you finished emptying that tamale you had started eating into his hat.

"You done? You good?" Jay asked.

You coughed and then wiped your mouth. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry about your hat. I just- I don't like blood and that was nasty."

"I know. I think everyone's going to Med, so we'll run to the bathroom so we can throw away my hat now and you can rinse out your mouth. I think I have gum in my truck."

"Okay. Be glad I had the smart idea to puke into that hat, though. Or else it probably would've gone on you."

"Yeah, but I lost a nice hat in the process," Jay said as he rolled his eyes and you two made your way towards the bathrooms.

***

"It's necrotizing fasciitis," Will said. Everyone looked at him with a blank expression.

"Flesh-eating bacteria," you supplied.

"Wow, where'd you learn that, Short Stack?" Will asked.

"Can you not call me that? I'm eighteen! And, I learned it by watching Untold Stories of the ER."

"Junior doctor on our hands I think, Jay. And, you're still shorter than me and Jay so I can call you that, thank you very much."

"After her puking just at the sight of that, yeah, no way she's becoming a doctor," Jay said. "Anyway, the victim?"

"Right, sorry. Your victim had necrotizing fasciitis, more commonly known as, as Y/N said, flesh-eating bacteria. And, don't worry, it's not contagious. Only about four in a million people get it each year," Will explained.

"So, how do you get nec..." Kelly trailed off, not knowing the correct pronunciation.

"Necrotizing fasciitis. It enters through a break in the skin and just destroys the tissue under the epidermis. It--"

"The epidermis is the first layer of the skin," you said, reciting something you had learned in your biology class.

"Yes, it's the first layer of skin. But, as I was saying, it would really help us treat this guy if we knew who he was," Will finished after your interruption.

"I can't open a case file without a crime," Jay started, "but I'll see if I can run prints and check traffic cam footage. Maybe make out some sort of ID."

After a few minutes, everyone's panic had died down and you and Kelly were sitting down next to each other. He was trying to explain football to you even though you really couldn't care less. Meanwhile, Jay was about to make a phone call when Will motioned him over.

"Yeah?" Jay asked.

"You or Y/N have any contact with the victim? And, if you did, do you or her have any breaks in the skin?" Will asked, clearly worried about his younger siblings.

"No, we didn't have any contact. Just had Y/N puke in my hat I let her borrow," Jay answered.

"Okay, good. But, as I said, necrotizing fasciitis is rare, so you two should be fine. I gotta get back, but call if you find out anything on the victim."

"Will do. Remember to wear your gloves." Will rolled his eyes. "What? You just said it enters through breaks in the skin."

"You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

"One of my many talents."

***

"Hey, I'm leaving," Jay told you around noon the next day, poking his head into your bedroom while you stared at your lab lectures, trying to remember all the diagrams and pictures you'd need to help you identify body parts on your next lab practical.

"Okay, I'm going to the lab around 2:00 to study. That way I can actually see that stuff as I'll see it on the lab practical," you told him, not even looking up from your notes.

"Okay, be safe." He picked up Beary, who was leaning up against a pillow next to you, in a graduation gown and cap outfit. "Beary, can you make sure she takes breaks?" Then, his voice changed into his baby voice, what he always pretended was Beary's voice. "Oh, yes, Jay. I'll make sure she takes breaks while you're gone."

You laughed and reached out and took Beary from him. "Get outta here, you goon."

"Love you, too!" Jay called as he left your room.

You fixed Beary's cap and set him down, remembering when you got the outfit for him as you stared at diagrams.

"You ready, graduate?" Jay asked as he knocked on your door.

"Jay, I swear to God if you call me graduate one more time..." you said as you opened the door.

"You'll what?" he taunted.

"You know what, I don't know, but you won't like it. Are my bobbi pins noticeable?" you asked, referring to the bobbi pins you had pinned down to keep your blue graduation cap in place.

"Nope. You're good. Ready?"

"Ready."

You walked into the kitchen, to be met with Will. And behind him on the kitchen table was a vase of blue and white flowers, which were your school colors, and Beary leaning up against said flowers, wearing a blue graduation cap and gown. Just like you.

You laughed. "I cannot believe you guys."

"Hey," Will started, "Beary got a little backpack on your first day of kindergarten. Only fair that he gets a cap and gown on your graduation."

"Did you use the gift card from Mom?" you asked, referring to the one you had found in the letters to each of you that Will had found when you were cleaning out your dad's house after he died.

"We did," Jay confirmed. "Now, I need you to hold Beary in one hand and hold this picture." He handed you a photo of you with your little backpack on and Beary with his that your mom had taken of you on the front porch on your first day of kindergarten, right before Jay had surprised you by coming home from deployment early.

"Why do I need both?" you asked curiously.

"I saw this thing on Pinterest--"

"Wait!" Will exclaimed. "You have a Pinterest?"

"No," Jay scoffed. "But Hailey does. And she sent me a picture of something she thought you should do for your graduation pictures. You hold up a picture of you on your first day of school when you were little while you're wearing your cap and gown and then I take a picture of you. Since Beary was in that picture, I thought he could be in this one, too."

You grabbed Beary and allowed him to take the pictures. Now it was time to tell the news to your mom and dad.

***

"You won't believe what Will and Jay decided they just needed to get me," you said as you stood in front of your parents' headstone with Beary hidden behind your back. Will and Jay were over by a big tree talking amongst themselves so you could have some privacy. You pulled Beary from behind your back. "They got me a cap and gown for him because they said it was only fair because Beary got a backpack on my first day of school. And, since it's my last day of school, he should get a cap and gown, too.

"Also, which one of you called Will and Jay graduate all day on the day of their graduation? Because Jay won't stop calling me that and it's kinda getting on my nerves. Pretty sure it was you, Mom."

You sighed. "I wish you guys were here. Jay told me all about how you made him a special breakfast when he graduated and then went out for lunch before the actual graduation because the senior all-nighter was after. I don't know where we're going for our senior all-nighter, but I hope it's not boring. I've heard that a few years ago, some kids said theirs was super boring. I really don't want that. But, I'm glad that I could convince Will and Jay not to be chaperones for whatever my senior all-nighter is. I love them and all, but they can be a bit too overprotective at times.

"God, you guys should be here. Dad, I know you weren't the best, but you were trying. And, I'm sure if Mom was here, she'd make sure you behaved, because Mom would say it was a big day and that you couldn't be arguing with Jay." You laughed. "I can only imagine what it would look like with Jay on one side of you, Mom, and Dad on the other and you scolding both of them for fighting. Then, they'd both probably sit back and cross their arms. And, because of this, you'd probably say that I'm your favorite child."

"Alright," Jay laughed as he and Will made their way back to you. "I think it's time to go. We don't want to miss your graduation."

"You know none of us really care about the ceremony, right?" you asked, blinking back tears so that you wouldn't mess up your makeup.

"We know. It's mostly for the parents...or in your case, brothers," Will said.

You pulled out four flowers, two blue and two white, which you had taken from the bouquet that Will had placed on the kitchen table back at home, from the pockets in your dress underneath your graduation gown. "Give me one more minute."

You placed two flowers, one of each color, on top of your Mom's name and your Dad's name on the headstone. "I thought you two should have some, too. They're my school colors." You wiped your eyes as you felt a few tears prick them. "Remember to clap for me from heaven when I walk across that stage, okay?"

You took a deep shaky breath and turned back around. Will wrapped an arm around you as the three of you walked back to Jay's truck. Beary hung from your hand. In three hours, you'll have graduated high school.

You were taken out of your thoughts by your phone ringing. It was the coffee shop you worked at. And, no, it was not the one in your apartment building. But, Jay and other members of Intelligence did sometimes come in there to pick up coffee for them and the rest of the unit. This was only because they knew they'd get the friends and family discount since you worked there. But, they usually tipped you well, so you didn't mind.

Your manager asked you to come into work because someone couldn't come in. As much as you needed to study for your biology lab practical, you needed money for college more. And, you could always go to the lab tomorrow to practice for your lab practical. You also had Will. What good was having a doctor in the family if not to help you with your science homework? So, you decided to pick up the extra shift making coffee.

***

"Voight," Hank Voight said as he answered his phone.

"Hank, it's Wallace Boden. I need you to come down to the CCU science lab right now."

"Why?"

"Because Severide just told me that the victim at Soldier Field yesterday kept chanting BRT. This place is owned by BRT Labs. And, there was a fire set."

"You're thinking arson? You know we don't investigate that, Wallace."

"I know. Office of Fire Investigation is already on it."

"But, you think that the victim yesterday and the fire today could be connected?" Voight asked.

"I think it's highly possible. All I ask is that you come down here, maybe take a look inside, do some interviews, stuff you normally would do."

"Alright. I'll grab Halstead and Upton and we'll head down there."

"Thank you."

Voight hung up his phone and turned to his team, all of whom were knee-deep in paperwork after taking off yesterday to see the Bears game...which they didn't even get to see in the end. "Chief Boden needs some of us down at the CCU lab. There could be a connection--"

"Did you say the CCU lab?" Jay asked, standing up from his chair.

"Yes, Halstead, Upton, you're with me. The rest of you, stay here. We'll let you know if we need you or you need to look up information here." Voight looked to Jay who looked like he'd seen a ghost. "Halstead, we're going."

"Y/N's at the lab."

"It's Saturday," Hailey pointed out. "There's no classes on Saturdays."

"She said she was going there to study for a test. Oh, God. What if--"

"Jay," Hailey said as she walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "You just need to call or text her on the way there. She'll be okay. C'mon, let's go."

"Atwater, come with me," Voight said. "Just in case Jay's gotta go."

***

You finally took your fifteen-minute break after being swamped for a good half hour straight. Who knew so many people wanted coffee at four in the afternoon? The first thing you saw were seven missed calls and texts in all caps. They were all from Jay.

"What the hell?" you muttered as you pressed Jay's contact and brought your phone to your ear. He picked up on the first ring. "Why are you--"

"Where are you? The firefighters said they haven't seen you come out yet," he rushed out.

"I'm at work. What firefighters? What are you talking about, Jay?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows together.

"You're at work?" Jay asked. "I thought you were going to school to study?"

"I was. But, then my manager called me in. Why? What happened?"

Jay felt so much relief wash over him that he almost fell over in the grass on the CCU campus. "There was a fire in the lab."

"What? Are my friends okay? Did anyone die?" you rushed out. They weren't totally your friends, more your classmates, but you figured that was the easiest thing to call them.

"As far as I know, there weren't any fatalities."

You breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay, okay, good."

"Just do me a favor: next time your plans change, text me."

"I can't promise I can remember that."

"Figures. But, I gotta go. Stay safe."

***

"Son of a bitch!" Jay yelled and threw his phone on the couch just as you entered your apartment after finishing your closing shift at the coffee shop.

"What?" you asked as you shut the door and then set your keys down and took off your hat.

"Hailey's in quarantine," he told you. "And it's all my fault."

"What? It's your fault? How'd it even happen? Why are people being quarantined?"

"Turns out that necro thing isn't as rare as Will told us."

"Jay, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Uh, there were a bunch of people at an apartment building who got the disease, so Will and others are there looking for a thing that somebody says they saw spraying the building. Could've been this exterminator person was trying to poison people in the building," Jay told you. "And now everyone in the building is quarantined at Med."

"And Hailey was in the apartment building...?" you asked, not knowing what this had to do with Hailey.

"I had her go to a house to talk to someone who was in the lab the same time as the victim. She, uh, the girl Hailey was talking to, fell over and she had the infection and Hailey touched her.

"Hailey had a hangnail or something—at least, that's the info that Will got from Natalie, and Will passed it on to me—so now she's in quarantine at Med. If I wouldn't have told her to go check out the lead, then maybe she wouldn't be in quarantine right now."

"Jay," you started, "you can't blame yourself. If it wasn't Hailey, it would've been you. Then you'd be quarantining at Med right now. And if it wasn't you or Hailey, it would've been someone else from Intelligence and then they'd be in quarantine right now."

"How did you get so mature?"

"Trauma."

Jay's expression immediately changed. "What? Y/N, if you need someone to talk to, I can get you that."

You laughed. "Jay, chill. It's a psych major joke...even though I know I really shouldn't be joking about trauma no matter what."

"Okay, good. Do you want to watch a movie?"

"I mean, I guess. What are we watching? And, I'm gonna make popcorn, too."

"Okay. We can watch anything but Contagion," Jay told you.

"What's Contagion?"

"It's about this virus that breaks out all over a city...much like what's happening now."

"Oooh, now I want to watch it."

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

***

"Hello?" you said into the phone the next afternoon when Mama Garcia called you. Jay was out working the case, Will was trying to find a cure for this bacterial strain, and Hailey was out of quarantine because she was cleared by Natalie. So, Jay wasn't blaming himself anymore.

You quickly spoke Spanish with Mama Garcia and she asked if you could come in because they got a huge catering order last minute and she needed someone to man the cash register while she helped in the back making the order. You agreed and made your way to Mama Garcia's.

***

You were busy working the cash register and speaking Spanish with the friendly customers when you started hearing yelling outside, something about MS-13. You excused yourself and made your way to the back where Mama Garcia was working on tamales.

"They're saying something about MS-13 out there," you told her in Spanish.

"I'm going to need you to say that in English, chica," she told you. "I think you said it wrong because you just mentioned MS-13," she said as she wiped her hands on her apron.

"No, they're saying crazy stuff," you began. "They're chanting that you're part of MS-13. You can't hear it?"

"It's loud back here. Maybe I'll hear it if I go to the front."

She came to the front with you where some customers were leaving the building through the side entrance to get away from the mob. There weren't any customers left in the little restaurant anymore.

"Dios mio," she whispered.

There had to have been at least two dozen or more people outside all yelling and saying that she was to blame for the bacteria. Some even held signs. Some had guns or sharp objects.

You pulled out your phone. "I'm calling--"

You stopped when you heard a crash. You barely had time to register what was happening as the Molotov cocktail flew through the window and shattered everywhere, lighting the place on fire and sending shards of glass everywhere, some ending up lodged in your leg as you screamed in fear and pain.

***

The men and women of Firehouse 51 got a call of a public disturbance at Mama Garcia's. As they pulled up, they saw the Molotov cocktail fly right through the front window towards you and Mama Garcia. Casey started barking out orders and everyone sprang into action.

You were inside and the smoke was getting thicker. Whatever they made this out of actually worked. You pulled your shirt up to your nose and mouth to try and stop inhaling it, but it didn't work very well.

You had been in front of Mama Garcia at the time it was thrown through the window, so you took most of the glass shards. This caused you so much pain that it was hard for you to move through the kitchen and to the door to get out.

"Fire department! Call out!" you heard Stella yell as you kept trying to walk toward the back door.

"Here!" you yelled.

"Fire department! Call out!"

"Back here! Help! Help!"

You heard heavy footsteps coming toward you and then you saw a firefighter and you felt a hand wrap around you.

"Hang on. You're gonna get out of here." Stella. "Casey," she said into her radio. "I need some help in here. Female victim, trouble walking, in the back in what looks like the kitchen."

"Copy. Coming in, Kidd."

About thirty seconds later you were picked up and told to close your eyes. You did, and it was only when you finally got outside, did Truck 81 realize who they had rescued.

***

Will was currently working in the lab trying to find an antidote to this terrible outbreak. But, something about Dr. Seldon was suspicious. He wasn't a detective like his younger brother,  but he still trusted his gut.

Dr. Seldon hadn't noticed that Will was still in the lab when he started pouring chemicals into the samples. Now Will knew something was most definitely wrong.

"What are you doing?" he asked loudly, startling Dr. Seldon.

"Oh, these are contaminated samples," he answered easily like he had rehearsed what he was going to say.

Will pointed directly at him. "No. You know what? You need to stay right here."

Then, Seldon threw a punch and Will caught it easily. But, then Seldon hit him again in the stomach. In the split second that Will was doubled over, Seldon picked up a microscope and cold-cocked Will right over the head, causing him to fall to the ground as everything went black and he clutched his bleeding head.

***

Hailey was now back in the bullpen after being quarantined because she got checked out and everything was fine. She had to tell Jay to stop apologizing and that it wasn't his fault he had gotten into that mess.

"That's a blue hat, right before 2:00," Ruzek said as he looked at the security footage.

"Wait, I know this guy," Jay started. "He works at the CCU lab." His eyes widened as he realized what was going on. "He's with Will. We gotta go now!"

As Jay was sprinting out of the bullpen, his phone started ringing.

"Man, your phone!" Adam yelled.

"Just let it go to voice-mail!" Jay yelled as he ran down the stairs, not knowing that it was Casey calling him to let him know that they had pulled you out of a fire and you were currently being treated at Med.

***

You rubbed your eyes as you woke up a few hours later. You didn't know if it was the meds the nurse gave you to knock you out so she could pull the shards of glass out of your body or if it was from a combination of smoke inhalation and tiredness. Whatever the reason, you were awake now.

You turned to see your brothers and were very confused to see that Will was holding an ice pack to his head and Jay looked like he had gotten new stitches in his forearm.

"The hell--" You roughly cleared your throat. "The hell happened to you two?"

"We found the guy," Jay told you. "But, not before he cold-cocked Will over the head with a microscope."

"Who was he?" you asked.

"A professor at CCU. Dr. Seldon."

"I've heard of him. I think he only teaches graduate classes though, so I'd never end up being in one of his classes anyway. I'm assuming he's not teaching anymore?"

"Not a chance in hell," Jay confirmed. "If he wants to teach, he can teach all the other prisoners at Stateville."

"What happened to your arm?"

"Oh, you know him," Will began. "He's always putting other people's safety in front of his own like the idiot he is." Jay thought about smacking his older brother upside the head but decided against it only because he had just been hit in the head. "He decided that he'd rather be infected with the bacteria instead of the people in a conference room where Seldon was. So, he cut himself."

"You what? Do you have the bacteria?" you asked as your eyes widened in fear.

"No, I don't. Hailey shot in there to distract him and then I disarmed him. Will came in with the antidote anyway, but luckily we didn't need to use it."

"If Hailey got paid overtime every time she saved your ass, she'd never have to work again."

"Tell me about it," Jay agreed.

"Now, what happened to you?" Will asked. "Casey told us you were at Mama Garcia's?"

"Yeah, she called and asked me to run the front since she needed to be in the back to help work on a catering order. I went in and an hour later, there were all these protesters outside calling her a member of MS-13 and saying she started the outbreak."

"How?" Jay wondered. "Mama Garcia's like the sweetest lady alive."

"I don't know. Because people online are crazy? And then someone threw a flaming bottle of something through the window."

"And that's how the glass got in your leg?" Will asked. You nodded. "Well, the good news is that Maggie told me the damage was artificial. The reason you passed out was because of smoke inhalation. They gave you some oxygen and you're good to go once you're ready."

"Then why don't I have one of those nose thingies in?" you asked.

"A nasal cannula?" Will chuckled. You nodded. "It's because you slept long enough with it on that your oxygen is back up. And, the paramedics gave you oxygen, too. That's why you don't need it. Your levels are back to normal."

"Oh. Okay."

"You want your discharge paperwork?" Will asked.

"Yeah, Jay's gotta fill it out."

"Nope. You are not a minor anymore. So, you get to fill out your own paperwork."

You groaned as he handed you the clipboard with the paperwork on it. Now you knew why both Jay and Will hated paperwork so much. There was so much even for one little thing!

"You know, I think since you've achieved frequent flyer status at Med," Will began, "that Beary needs a hospital gown, too."

"No! Don't you dare!"

"Just write it down and give it to her for Christmas," Jay joked. But honestly, when it came to that bear and presents, you never knew if either of them was joking or not.

Everything seemed back to normal at that moment: Jay and Will joking about your Build-A-Bear, you and Jay constantly being in the hospital for whatever reason and life. Life was back to normal after this crazy weekend that had everyone in Chicago on edge and you couldn't be happier.

A/N: Idk how I feel about this one. There was so much going on in that crossover, that it was hard for me to figure out what I wanted to focus on...so, it turned into a shorter imagine. Anyway, thank you guys so, so much for reading! I also start my new job tomorrow, so updates might be a little less frequent (one or two a week, depending on how long the imagines are and how much I have to work). Anyway, please like/reblog and comment and tell me what you think! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

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