#Falconer cycles

[kjudgemental]

New piece on Peter Lorre up on TFM now, go check it out and support independent writing.

[gijoe-forever]

[pantoranqira]

"Anakin/Obi Wan/Yoda/Padmé/Shmi is the most tragic character in Star Wars" you are WRONG actually. L3-37 HOWEVER.....

[awritersbro]

If I had a nickel for every time I had a wolfboy OC named Peter Andy Wolf I'd have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, and it's a pity that I've only been able to use that name twice.

[rioagatha]

I thought of this too because like, Sofia’s childhood kinda does parallel with Gia’s now; the way how Sofia saw her mom getting hanged and Gia not knowing her parents passed away.

Like you mentioned earlier, an older Gia would begin to wonder and try to figure out what happened to her parents. Then perhaps, she could be caught snooping around like how Sofia was in that flashback, then something happens to Gia.

Knowing that Sofia wants power and control over Gotham, I would assume she could possibly take the path on maintaining that status. Who knows if Sofia could reluctantly throw Gia under the boss if she finds out too much

I love Sofia and I want her to get everything ever; but I feel like with leaving Gia alive, she might accidently have created a cycle, and if she were to break it, then she'd lose everything.

Sofia killed Gia's parents, and I assume intends to lie about it, claim the gas leak was some sort of unfortunate accident. And while Gia might accept this now, as she's too young to know otherwise, as years go by and Gia gets older, she might start to look back and question things; why did Sofia lead them out to the Greenhouse the exact night there was that gas leak? Why'd it happen that exact night Gia had to leave the room when Sofia wanted to confront the family about something? She might begin to wonder, and this has a striking resemblance to how Sofia began to wonder and remember things from her mother's supposed suicide. Just as Sofia began to question her father's involvement in her mother's death, Gia might begin to question Sofia's involvement in her parent's deaths.

And that kind of questioning would be dangerous for Sofia; it could cause the power she'd gained to crumble apart if the truth were to come out. So if she can't put a stop to Gia's suspicious, she has a choice to make; will she allow her power to come to ruin, or will she be forced to silence Gia, just as her father had silenced her.

[nahla-art]

Took me over a month but I finally finished working on this comic based on a scene from The Penguin And The Peacock!

original text under cut

Oswald quickly found himself overwhelmed with the party and once he found an opening he slipped away to the back alley for a smoke. 

He admired the cane as he smoked, and took peace in the chill Gotham air and the quiet that surrounded it. There was a certain sense of emptiness that hung heavy in the air, and he let it settle over his shoulder. He may have been a king, but Gotham was a god, and he bent to her commands.

“ Long and elegant, she settles comfortably between your hands. You share a kiss, and she leaves your lips ashen-cold. You chase her for a second, knowing that she’d drop poison into your chest.” A voice spoke up somewhere close, and Oswald felt air stolen from his chest. 

He turned around sharply and spoke softly, “ A cigarette.” 

Edward Nygma stood at the end of the alley in a bright green suit. His presence overwhelmed the city. As The Riddler’s heavy footfalls shrunk the distance between them, Oswald made out more of his physique. Wild unkempt hair shone under the blue iceberg lights, and purple bruises dotted his cheekbone. Oswald wanted to reach out and touch his cheek. He wanted Edward to hiss at the contact but lean into his palm regardless. Every cell in his being called out to him, and all he could do was hold onto his cane so he wouldn’t fall over.

“ You’re out,” Edward said, close but not close enough.

Oswald swallowed, pushing the cigarette into the wall, afraid he’d burn his fingers, “ I’m out.” 

Edward didn’t look at him, not really, “ You had a fun stay.” 

“ I managed,” Oswald said, slight irritation building under his skin,  “ You’ve had a busy schedule.” 

“ I made my presence known as The Riddler, as you made yours as The Penguin.” 

Oswald said nothing, not really sure what to say. His mind screeched.

Edward opened up his palm, angling his head at the cane. Oswald wordlessly handed it over, mind getting stuck on the slight brush of their fingers.

Edward whistled, hands tracing the dents and the scratches, “ The late Don Falcone kept it in his manor, did you know that? “ 

“ I didn’t,” Oswald said, words small and breath too shallow. 

“ You took your revenge from him, and from Sofia, Etchison, Dent, and Ogilvy,” Edward said, hands on the cane, “ Even the landlord that insulted your mother once suffered for her sin,” 

Something felt off. Something felt cold. Oswald couldn’t look at him. 

“ You’re a funny one, Mr Cobblepot,” Edward said, looming over him, “ You cast judgment. You carry out punishment. For your mother’s death, you burned Gotham to the ground.  You blamed Don Falcone, you blamed Sofia, you blamed the city but you didn’t think to blame yourself— Oomf!”

Oswald pushed Edward to the wall. His whole body shook with the act, and he clenched his teeth as his eyes and Edward’s finally met.

He never knew brown could look so cold.

He held Edward’s collar and glared at him, “ I’m not sure what game you’re playing, Riddler, but you’re crossing the line there.” 

Edward smiled, empty, “ Now? Now I’ve crossed a line? After all I’ve done to you? “ Edward’d thumb traced the scar stretching under Oswald’s right eye, and the latter flinched, “ I hurt you, Penguin, I took away the kingdom you built with your blood and sweat. I turned your friends against you. I caged you in the deepest cycle in hell.” 

Oswald’s mind reeled in mixed confusion and anger. He pushed His fist against Edward’s chest. The other man’s hand fell to his shoulder and down to his coat. Oswald didn’t stop him, because despite it all he trusted him. Edward’s hand slipped into his inside pocket and swiftly pulled out Oswald’s pocket knife. With a click, he opened it and placed the handle into Oswald’s palm while the blade’s tip touched Edward’s abdomen.

It was only then that Oswald stopped him. He let go of Edward’s shirt and held his wrist instead to stop whatever this was. Edward’s other hand clasped over his. They held hands, warm in the coldness of it all, even with the blade settled between them.

“ You burned half of Dent’s face. You took Sofia’s family. You destroyed Ogilvy— Everyone who hurt you met their punishment” Edward said softly, pulling the blade towards him. It wouldn’t be enough to spill his guts, but Oswald couldn’t help but imagine all the blood and gore.

“ Almost everyone,” Edward was close enough, his breath felt warm, “ Almost. ”

“I—“ Oswald stammered, as his hand shook. He could kill him. He could kill Edward, “ What are you—“ 

“ Do it.” Edward said firmly, hands gripping Oswald’s with hurtful tightness, “ Oswald. ” 

Oswald breathed, in and out, “ You want me to— You want me to kill you?” 

Edward didn’t answer, or move. It felt like the very air turned to ice.

Oswald tried to pull his hand away, but Edward’s hold was firm. Now that the anger in his chest subsided and was replaced with worry, Oswald noticed how much Edward shook against him. He breathed heavily, and his stomach expanded against Oswald’s knuckles.

“ Edward?” Oswald asked softly. Edward lowered his eyes, biting his lips as he held onto Oswald, “ Eddie. What— what are you doing?” 

“ You have to kill me.” Edward said, broken, “ Please, Oswald. I can’t—”

“ I—”

“ Is this my punishment?” Edward asked, voice small, “ For you to not spare a glance?”

“ I don’t understand what you’re saying—“ 

Edward took a deep breath, hands shaking, “ It’s driving me nuts! I’m not sure what you’re going to do. How you’re going to … Punish me. Maybe this is it— You’re tormenting me with my own mind, but I want it to end. I want to stop thinking. For the sake of our friendship, be kind to me.” 

“ Edward I’m not punishing you,” Oswald said shakily, taking advantage of Edward’s small moment of weakness to step away, “ I’m not— there is no punishment for you. “

Edward blinked, “ What are you— This doesn’t make any sense. You have to punish me.”

“ but I don’t want to.”

“ Why?” Edward pulled him in again, bringing the knife to his throat, “ Stop this. Please I’m— I don’t. Oswald please .”  

“ I love you.” Oswald said softly, “ It’s- that’s why. I love you. You’re forgiven.” 

” You’re lying.”

“ I’m not.” 

“ This is cruel,” Edward’s breath hitched, “ You’re—“ 

“ I loved you for long,” Oswald titled his hand, the one holding the knife, so he could wipe Edward’s tears without hurting him, “ I loved you even before we met.” 

“ How is that possible?” 

“ I was born with a hole in my heart that fits your measurements. I longed for you before I could breathe.” 

“ Stop— Stop it.” Edward gritted his teeth, “ You can’t lie to me.”

“ I’m not lying.” 

“ Then prove it.” 

Oswald took a moment to settle his nerves and look at Edward. His nose grew red and runny whenever he cried. His eyes were wide and swollen. There were hints of crow's feet at their corners. He couldn’t fathom how someone so divine could believe himself unlovable. He couldn’t fathom how he dared to plant that belief into him.

“ I thought you were charming the day we met.” He said softly, smiling at the memory.

“ You called me funny.”  Edward sniffled.

“ and I meant it,” Oswald said firmly,  “ No one made me laugh as much as you did. When you worked at the Gazette, you made the crosswords and wrote the trivia section. I was slow, but I tried to solve every puzzle, and I laughed at every pun you hid in the text. I remember the title of every article you wrote there.

Edward stammered, “ That’s a lie. No one liked those. No one could—-“

“ Trains. Parakeets. Beach balls. Strawberries.” Oswald listed in a whisper, a shared secret, “ Cotton, Trains again, Security systems. Lock picks. Lungs. Circles. Trains. You’ve written about trains 15 times. I found it endearing.” 

“ You’re just —“ Edward said, running out of breath, “ You’re just listing words. You- you memorized that just to convince me.” 

“ Why would I want to convince you? ” 

“ To punish me? To use me? ” 

“ I’m not pushing you!” Oswald groaned. He noticed the pocket knife between them and he wanted it gone. He threw it to the side and stepped back. He needed to breathe. 

“ I don’t want to manipulate you, or use you—I don’t want to do any of that.” 

“ You—“ Edward tugged at his hair, stepping towards him, “ What are you doing?” 

“ You insisted that I offer reasoning, and it is here.” Oswald huffed, throwing up his hands in frustration, “Edward Nygma, I don’t know what you’re trying to do. Why did you send that riddle to my hospital room?”

“ What are you talking about?” Edward frowned in genuine confusion.

“ I know that you sent the lawyers. I don’t know why you’re pretending that you don’t care, but I know it was you who sent them.”

“ How could you—“ 

“ You left a riddle!” Oswald said, “ In a green envelope! Even an idiot would know who it was.”

Edward looked small in a second, and his voice was even smaller as he said, “ I left a riddle?”

Oswald felt himself quiet down, “ You didn’t know?” 

Edward shook his head frantically. He scratched the inside of his wrist roughly, and Oswald wanted to stop him, but he was worried that anything he’d do would hurt him further.

“ You drive me insane, do you know that?” The alleyway was narrow. Edward was in front of him in an instant, hands clenched by his side,” You break me apart.” 

“ You asked me, Edward,” Oswald said shakily, backing away, “ You asked me to prove it to you.”  

Edward groaned loudly and pushed him to the wall. He held Oswald’s collar, and his knuckles brushed Oswald’s neck.

“ Threads.” Oswald fumbled, needing him to come closer “ Orange trees. Batteries—“ 

“ You delve between my bones, Oswald,” Edward’s voice grew low and quiet, “ You keep wrecking me from the inside and I—“ 

Oswald took in a deep shaky breath, “ S-Skeletons, signals, telephones, trains again. Really, Edward, what is your deal with trains—”

In a split second, the impossible distance between them was shrunk to nothing. Edward’s lips met his with overwhelming starvation. Oswald’s stomach flipped as he pushed against him to match him. A hand dug into Edward’s side while the other held the back of his neck. Edward huffed and Oswald repositioned their heads for a better angle, to drive them deeper into the avalanche.

“ Textbooks. The Amazon forest. Pyramids, frogs.” 

Oswald continued his list whenever they paused for breath. Each kiss grew more rough and desperate, and when Edward whimpered against him and shivered all over, they grew softer and slower. Soon enough, Oswald found himself in a broken heap on the floor, holding Edward tightly and kissing his head as the latter sobbed into his chest. Oswald rubbed Edward’s back as he bit his lips to cage his own mourning.

“ I’m—” Edward’s voice broke off, “ You’re cruel, Oswald.”

“ I’m sorry—“ Oswald said, pulling away to hold Edward’s face in his hand, “ I’m sorry— I— I broke you. Didn’t I? You’re broken. ” 

Edward sniffed, his chest shuddered. 

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Oaths

My first Bruce Wayne fic! I kind of pictured this taking place in his early years as Batman. ~1k words

When Bruce Wayne watches his parents die at eight years old, he vows to never let someone die in front of him again. It's a useless vow, one he fails time and time again to keep.

Yet, he makes the same vow over and over. With every eye that loses its light in front of him, he swears to be better, stronger, faster, so he never fails anyone who needs ever again.

Bruce carries each loss on his shoulders. He repeats the list of names to himself in the quiet moments, in the darkness that lingers as he races from crime to crime.

Some names are strangers. Some are friends. But the heaviest ones to bear are always his family's.

If he had just been more, more than himself, more than just a man, maybe he'd be able to fall into a restful sleep for once. But Bruce Wayne is not more. He is a human among gods. A mortal surrounded by death and power and chaos.

So he throws himself into being better. Trains himself until his muscles and bones fail him. Throws every dime he's ever had into the newest technology.

His life would be nothing but an endless cycle of training, fighting, lavish parties, and lies, if not for you.

You. His childhood friend. The third musketeer to him and Harvey. The person who treats him like he never left Gotham.

You never ask questions. Never push him for more than he can give. Always seem to be willing to drop your plans in favor of him.

It's almost intoxicating, but he does his best to stuff his feelings down, to pretend that the sight of you dressed to the nines for one of his charity galas doesn't make his mouth go dry and his head spin.

(He doesn't think he can be blamed for not being a model playboy, philanthropist when you're occupying all his attention)

There's something about the way you smile, the way the room seems to focus on your very existence, that has him unable to cut you from his life. It's a weakness. One Batman cannot have. But it's one Bruce Wayne certainly does.

He skips meetings at Wayne Tower for you. (Not that he wanted to go anyway) He cuts back on what little sleep he gets just to see you for brunch.

He invites you as his guest to various events. (Sure, it's under the guise of publicity, driven by the fact that you're one of Gotham's shiniest stars, but you both know he prefers your company over anyone else)

What Bruce does not compromise on, though, is his nights. His days are for you, but his nights are for Gotham. He vows you will never be caught in the crossfire of his double life. This is the line, a barrier between him and The Bat. One he cannot and will not let you cross.

That barrier crumbles to dust when your name is listed among the hostages at your favorite club. His heart is his throat as he tears over Gothams rooftops, his focus entirely on getting to you.

It's not a vow on his lips, but a prayer. A prayer that you won't be a casualty in a territory war he caused by taking out Falcone just last week.

He feels stupid. Inexperienced. He knew the fallout would be difficult to manage, but never considered it would risk your life. He should have told you to stay home, should have given you a panic button, anything to keep you safe.

But he didn't. Didn't even have a plan for it. So, he has to save you. Has to make at least one vow true. Has to stop you from being a victim of his crusade.

He's efficient, when he cuts the power to the club, plunging it into darkness. He's brutal, more brutal than he's ever been when he takes out each hired hand like they're simple training dummies.

He breaks guns over heads, uses his untested, electrified batarangs. He drives himself to the limits to ensure every person's attention is entirely focused on him, and not the vulnerable hostages– on you.

He sends a message with each bone he breaks, each punch that knocks the air from their lungs, every kick that sends them flying into the wall.

It's a message they don't understand, but one that's clear as day to him, The Bat and Bruce Wayne are inexplicably linked, and at the center of it is you.

You. He nearly crashes at the sight of you, once the goons are left moaning and curled on the floor.

You're safe, a little worse for wear, hair mused, and clothes rumpled, but you're alive, and none of his scans pick up any major bleeding or life threats. He doesn't quite know what to do with the awed, mystified look in your eyes, but you're coherent, and that's what he cares about.

It's a bad idea, but Batman personally escorts the hostages (namely you) to the police and paramedics waiting outside. (And if he steps on a few fingers along the way, no one says a word about it)

He can't help himself, even as his better judgment tells him to leave, to take care of the other violence sure to be happening around the city. But it's you. His– his something.

He will not name it. He will not dare delude himself into more.

So he lingers in the shadows. Stays poised on the balls of his feet when you're finally allowed to leave the scene. He selfishly follows you every step of the way until you're safe in your own home. Only then does he let you out of his sight.

The line between Batman and Bruce Wayne only blurs more, when he shows up at your door in the morning with coffee and breakfast, claiming to have heard about the situation from the news.

He decides it hardly matters what is fact or not, because you hug him, express how grateful you are to see him.

The smile on your face makes him engrave another vow onto his soul, one he intends to keep. Bruce Wayne will cross lines to protect you. He will blur what is Batman and what is him to keep you safe. And you will never, ever know it.

[pells-beautiful-wife]

Period head canons 🩸🤕

law, pell, penguin, sanji, doflamingo, robin, zoro

How one piece characters treat you on your period

If you want other characters I am happy to write for a bunch more I'm just doing my favourites rn <3

AN, I'm on my period rn and oh lord I am not having a good time 😢 really need some head canons rn

(happy new year)

Trafalgar Law

Sfw

~ knows your cycle off by heart

~ prepares for everything, the mood swings, if you get cramps, extra pads/tampons/menstrual cups in every bathroom, if you can name it he's got it

~ would still expect you to do some work unless your cramps are bad, although even if they aren't it would be less work then usual

~ has every pain relief method under the sun and some that aren't, he's got special teas, heat pads, ice packs, pain medication, a list of exercises, everything

nsfw

~ would still have sex during your period but only as pain relief

~ it's also not spontaneous, it's usually in the shower because he does not want to clean cum and blood off the floor/bed

~ does not go down on you even if he kinda wants to just a little, he will definitely finger you tho and let's you suck him off but won't fuck you on his dick, he doesn't wanna hurt you (unless you like it, if you do he's got you pressed against the glass wall of the shower pounding you so hard you feel like your gonna split open)

~ might ask you for something in return every now and then but avoids asking when your on your period

Pell the falcon

sfw

~ cuddles you a lot and definitely gives you massages

~ takes time off work to look after you if your having a really shitty day and definitely doesn't expect you to do any work

~ makes you tea and always refills hot water bottles, will also have ice packs in the freezer though, and definitely takes you out on a date at some point, unless you don't feel like it, in that case he gets dressed up nice and cooks you your favourite meal

~ expect princess treatment and you will not be disappointed

Nsfw

~ absolutely would not ask for it, this man rarely does, but he definitely quadruple checks with you if you ask him for it

~ goes slower than usual, definitely checking if your okay regularly

~ nothing kinky or outrages, keeps it simple and cleans up afterwards, he doesn't mind if you make a mess he just makes sure your not bloodying anything expensive

~ wouldn't go down on you but would finger you and would make love with you (he's gentle and sweet this ain't sex it's worship) he wouldn't let you give him head though

Penguin

sfw

~ very sweet

~ he doesn't have much period knowledge but if you ask him for something he does everything he can to get it for you

~ definitely showers you with kisses and affection and probably gets made fun of by Shachi

~ he's the kinda of guy to fall for the internet prank where you ask him for something completely made up and he believes you and tries very hard to find it only to be told it doesn't exist

Nsfw

~ he's okay with whatever your okay with although won't go down on you that's his main thing he won't do, he also refuses to hurt you even if you like it

~ would ask for it but only if he was pretty horny if not he's fine with taking care of himself

~ loves it when you give him head, in fact he might prefer it to almost anything else (other then you sitting on his face but that's for a different set of head canons)

Black leg Sanji

sfw

~ princess treatment

~ won't let you lift a finger

~ he'll make anything you request, no matter the hour or the difficulty

~ knows a lot about periods but not everything and is a little clueless when it comes to flow but knows a lot of foods to make you feel better

nsfw

~ anything to please you, literally anything

~ very wary about sex though, he doesn't want to hurt you, he probably does it anyway and doesn't regret it

~ although he is super not sure if you ask him to eat you out, he will and although it's not his favourite thing he'll do it if you ask

~ he also won't ask for this but please suck him off he craves it

Donquixote doflamingo

sfw

~ acts like he doesn't give a shit

~ convinces himself he doesn't give a shit

~ but if you mention you need anything he will at first tell you womp womp but a servant will appear at you door with exactly what you need as soon as he leaves

~ will deny he does this but he is a lot sweeter to you and gives you small gifts

Nsfw

~ oh you though he wasn't gonna fuck you cause your on your period yeah sorry honey no

~ acts like there isn't blood pouring out of you onto the sheets...

until he sees it embarrasses you then he will absolutely tease you about it, just completely degrade you

~ fucks you like usual rough and doesn't stop till your sobbing

~ we all know this man doesn't believe in aftercare but on your period he will stay for a little while longer maybe caress your hair for a second and instead of the rushed toothy sloppy kiss he usually gives you when he leaves he'll kiss you softly on the cheek and say "sleep well mi amor" but he'll say it so softly you'll question if you even heard it

Nico Robin

sfw

~ reads stories to you whilst you cuddle and she massages your abdomen

~ definitely makes you tea

~ brings you small gifts and trinkets she thought you'd like

~ do not hide emotions from her she can read you like a ponglyph and definitely lets you cry into her if your upset over nothing she doesn't judge

Nsfw

~ absolutely destroys you on her fingers

~ 50/50 on going down on you depends on her mood (we all now robin is a little freak let's be real)

~ does expect you to do her afterwards tho unless your really crampy

Roronoa Zoro

sfw

~ naps with you all the time but it doubles when your on your period

~ keeps you close at all times he is super protective and if you are the slightest bit in pain he is going straight to Nami and robin for help

~ he knows almost nothing about periods and it definitely bothers him, it makes him feel bad that he can't help you on your period so you can be sure after your first period when your together he will be researching afterwards

Nsfw

~ definitely eats you out, doesn't give a flying fuck that there is blood dripping out of you and down his face, in fact he likes it better that way, not that he'll tell you that

~ probably won't use his dick tho because he notices how overly sensitive you are down there and he is girthy,

~ he will be more gentle with you but he makes up for it once you stopped you period and fucks you harder than usual

[al-luviec]

cont...

still haven't moved on from zane in this episode (aka I hit tag limit again and am unhappy about it)

[rkiveinmarvel]

vsego dva prizraka - james bucky barnes des. barnes never trusted you, not once. but upon a different life, he would. notes. angst/comfort, enemies-to-lovers, mention of violence, curse words, idiots-in-love, sharon carter is a meanie here, trauma, torturing and avengers! shenanigans

hello! it's my bucky fic! part ii of upon a different life is here! thank you for supporting it, means a lot! anyway, here's part ii, uh--sharon carter is higkey unlikeable here so, i'm sorry! enjoy loving bucky!

(part i) (part ii) | w.c: 7.8k (got carried away, mb)

As you trace the track of living the endless cycle of you and the White Wolf stumbling in this much different life, James Barnes slowly learns fragments and side of you that were covered during the time in HYDRA’s grasp, don’t get him wrong, part of him still navigating in living and breathing around you but somehow, he doesn’t mind learning more about you, he somehow find himself tangled in your webs: in which he rationalized that maybe the words of HYDRA never left his head or maybe, just maybe, he felt a sense of familiarity with you, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that in the corners of the Avengers compound, someone understands him.

You, on the other hand, slowly make amends to the people you caused trouble when you were still HYDRA’s living leverage: some of them thanked you for apologizing while some did not take any apologies from you. Despite the hardship of earning people’s forgiveness, a part of you was grateful that the bed was even warmer than before, people actually smiled at you, talked to you, and you built the idea that the world isn’t always red and bruised. 

For another, you finally see the Sergeant that fell off the train in 1945, how his life is ultimately different to the one you previously known, how his attention is relatively closed-knitted with books rather than guns and knives, how his grumpy old gaze was just him being confused, and how his metal arm is for carrying Banner’s stuff rather than a weapon to be used. It is refreshing to see things in a different light, but there’s still a present guilt on how you stole these simple things from the Sergeant, a lingering disgust within you was still present. How you wish HYDRA didn’t use him; how you wished you didn’t use him–despite his given acknowledgement of forgiveness: a terrible little you burns the edge of your mind. Yet, as you meet his eyes while sparring, in missions, in the kitchen, and at night, it keeps you grounded that what you have now is a chance to prove yourself—that you’re more than just HYDRA’s stupid toy.

After a few months of the events of you and Bucky sharing a moment in Brooklyn, you two find each other’s presence more grounding, call it sharing a trauma or trauma-bonding but what is certain, the each of you became each other’s compass in wandering the softer edge of the world.

The mission was executed properly and Tony Stark, being the man he is, decided to throw a party at the compound: with close friends, workers, family, and the Avengers–as the people went through the party, you stayed at the bar and challenged drinks with Yelena and Sam.

Sam and Yelena are on their fifth drink as their visions start to betray them. It was a stupid challenge, really, but it was amusing to join. As you drank your fifth drink, you winced at the bitterness and warmth coursing through your throat. “You two okay…?” You asked, basically indicating that you are still in the right state of mind, body, and soul.

“Absolutely…” Yelena uttered but her words were shaky and unstable as Sam just nodded and tried to sit up straight. In another point of view, it seems like you poisoned the two, but in this challenge: pride was on the line. “You know, you two should take a rest…” 

The Falcon immediately protested his dislike at the idea of taking a rest, but before he could argue, he fell off his chair, causing Yelena to fall as well. “Told you…” You uttered under your breath. As Rhodes and Wanda helped the two go back to their room, you were left alone in the bar as a familiar metal arm tapped the table.

“You finally decided to show up.” Bucky nods and sits on the stool. “I heard that Sam fell flat on his face, so I had to see it.” You shook your head and nodded. “Anything I can get you?” Bucky decided whiskey on the rocks, as he was just taking a sip every now and then.

You asked the White Wolf why he wasn't joining Steve and Thor sharing drinks at the other side of the room, his eyes looking over the God of Thunder and Steve as he just looks back at his drink. “Just not feeling like talking to other people, everyone’s here is so different from the 40s.” You nodded as you sip your drink as well.

“Well, I’m not from the 40s, so, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you replied as you watched the people having fun. “But I guess, I do get where you’re coming from. I mean, people are actually…talking, not ordering me around.” You chuckled unsure, yet Bucky knew what you meant. 

As you sighed, you looked over at him. “How’s your trip with Peter? I heard the kid practically dragged you around Queens for his project.” A small sigh and smile left James’ lips. “Parker was talking a lot, he introduced me in the corners of Queens, it was nice. But I still choose—.” you continue his words.

“Brooklyn.” You both said in unison, as he nodded. After a while, you two just watch the party in the bar. In the scene of soft music and chattering noises, it was quiet on your side. As if there was another world being built there–a look of adoration of the people around the room is present in the eyes of two former people of HYDRA, call it a look of longing or even hoping; in the back of Bucky’s mind he remembered the days where he dance with girls in the 1940s while you wonder if being in a party means being happy in people’s company.

Bucky was about to say something when he saw people dancing on the dance floor. Despite the uplifting mood, some people swayed to the music, calmly, not out of rhythm but still a form of slow dancing. His eyes darted to you as he saw how intrigued and focused you are in the people dancing.

“First time seeing people dancing?” He asked, as you spared him a look and you nodded. “Would it be weird if I said yes?” Bucky shook his head a ‘no’. He knew what you went through as he took a sip and said: “It’s not weird. But, it’s surprising..”

“Why is it surprising?”

“Well, when you and Natasha went to the ball for an undercover mission, didn’t you two dance with people to blend in…?”

“Oh, the mission in Budapest.” You nodded. “I didn’t dance that night, not once in my life, I think…” He glanced at you, as you asked if he danced. The Sergeant had this nostalgic look in his eyes, as if he tried to remember the soft hands he held as he danced in the 40s. With a last sip of his drink, he had a smug look on his face. “1943. Her name was Connie.” You listened intently. 

He shared the Stark Expo, the memories he has as he danced with Connie before the war. As he grabbed a beer at a nearby table, to his surprise, you’re actually listening to him: He also told how he gave Steve a date that time, a double date, as he mentioned. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe the ambiance, but Bucky couldn’t stop talking to you—especially, when you’re looking at him as if he’s the only person in the world. Listening to him as if the music isn’t filling your ears.

He should not let the soft smile appear, yet he loves this. He loved being listened to. Despite, his demeanor and adjusting behavior around you; getting used with you, he let it slip—he hoped it was the alcohol, god, he hoped it was—he smiled at you, not an awkward one nor a smug one, it is a smile reserved for the times he felt at ease: the smile he had when he stayed at Sam’s hometown, the smile he had when he saw the flying car in Stark Expo, the smile he had when he was saved by Steve, and a smile that made his ears warm when he was dancing with Connie in 1943.

You smiled back, the Sergeant looked so handsome. A pretty man. In the moment, you two are like teenagers down the block or somewhat two strangers finally see each other eye-to-eye. As James ignored the warmth in his cheeks—pretending it was from the alcohol—he breaks the smile. As you question: “Was it nice…?”

Moments like this, James realized that you two are not far from each other; he got to experience becoming a human, before mess happened. While you lived in the mess, not knowing what it means to be a human—he pity you sometimes, he often wonders if you’re just making this up, waiting for a moment so, you can fuck him up but moments like this, he somehow recalls you had this look of ingenuity, as if you have no clue: how to live. 

And he knew, for he also had the same look in his eyes. So, he nods and looks at the people sharing a slow dance. “It felt nice..” As you sip your drink, the Sergeant wants to ask you something, yet a bitter voice in his head holds those words back. In that he settled with that answer, as he drank the beer while you watched the people dance. A simple breath left you: “I’ll figure it out how it feels..” 

If things were different, the bitter voice in his head would have not bothered him—but for now, he settled with whatever he had with you, as he left it at that.

You walked in the compound and smelled the spices in the kitchen, with a book in your hand—you saw Vision and Wanda cooking. Since the Redhead A.I has heightened senses, he welcomed and invited you. You felt like a trash third wheel, but as Wanda gave you a smile and offered what they cooked, it was more than welcoming. 

A look from the outside was watching the three of you, or perhaps, you. The blue eyes watched you, as if he was analyzing how different you look: you looked at ease, your shoulders aren’t tense; you looked so…calm. “Are you going to run or are we gonna be staring at them until it gets weird?” Sam eyed the Sergeant as he glared back.

“Shut up, I’m almost done with my lap.” He grunted, going back to the stupid running bet with Sam. As Sam catched up with the grumpy old-man, Sam snickered. “That cyborg brain of yours is functioning in a new gear.” The Falcon teased, to which Bucky ignored–but he couldn’t help but wonder why he felt different around you: it was wrong, at least, that’s what he tells himself—he firmly believes, it was nothing but a mere heat of the moment perhaps, a little assurance for the trauma that you two share.

It was a normal day, to say so at least, the rest were doing their own things—enjoying the uneventful day, when afternoon arrived, some found themselves seeking to shut-eye: but not the former secret service of HYDRA and White Wolf.

“How about George Owell’s books?” You asked the Sergeant who was reading a book as he sat on the library’s couch. He raised his head and looked up at you at the loft of the library. “Haven’t read it but Dr. Strange said it’s a good one.” you nodded as you continued to scan the books in the library of the compound.

After a few hours of Bucky reading, he realized you’re not back in the seat where you promised to sit after you find the right book for you—that was an hour ago. He placed the book, The Hobbit, on the table as he called out your name. Your lack of response was a little jitter in his head, it’s unusual, or maybe it is usual, but he couldn’t help but check on you. As he climbed on the loft, he found you, reading a book on the floor.

He was bewildered as he saw you, reading a book on the floor as he sighed and sat next to you. “You finished your book?” You asked as he just shook his head; he didn’t say anything, letting you read in silence. In that moment, maybe, he was reading it all wrong—not the book, but you: he longs to be near you, whether he admits it or not, he stole glances as you read the book.

He should still hate you, you stole everything from him. But, his heartbeat quickens when you two share a soft moment, his ears ring when he does something that makes you laugh, his hands shake when you don’t respond to his comms when you two are on a mission, he doesn’t get it. He should still hate you, but he can’t help it—maybe, he’ll get it, once you do too.

As you read thoroughly, you felt a head on your shoulder. Typically, you would push it away, but as you heard even breathing as a relaxed state, you let it be. You didn’t move an inch, as you let the Sergeant sleep on your shoulder. It’s not the first time you served as a pillow to your new home, it was mostly Wanda or Yelena; sometimes Thor, when he wants to annoy you—but this felt new and raw. Your heart pounds louder, god, you hoped that the White Wolf won’t hear it. 

It was scary to feel this, the loud banging on your chest, the tensed shoulder you had, yet as you looked over your shoulder, you saw his closed eyes and relaxed eyebrows—your memory drifted to the time you hear his screams when HYDRA removes his memory, you tensed as you remember how he bear the pain as you just watch across the room, and you remembered how the his furrowed eyebrows in the cryo-sleeping machine. The guilt was seething pain in your neck, it tasted bitter, but for once, you ignored the bitter taste in your lips, you found a better position, as you lean back, Barnes fell further in your shoulder as head touched the side of your neck.

You smiled softly—the one you gave Barnes at the party, the one you gave Barnes as you apologized; the smile you gave Bucky at the diner, a few months ago. With a heavy feeling, you leaned in his head as you rested your cheek.

You are damn sure, this will result into stiff neck, back pain, or even cramps—but just this once, you’ll bear it, just this once you’ll let your back and muscle scream, and just this once you let James Buchanan Barnes sleep, with a relaxed eyebrows in the warm presence of the library.

It wasn’t long when you feel sleepy too, it was an afternoon hit afterall, but a part of you wishes to stay awake, you want this to last, yet, you found yourself closing your eyes, relaxing in the library. You knew you’ll figure it out one day, whether it’s right or wrong to long for this, you’ll figure it out how to pour your heart to the person who has a broken heart because of you—you’ll figure it out, you know it—you just hope, Bucky will figure it out too.

Everything was doing fine with you and Bucky; the entire team felt it too—the sudden change, the loosen tension, and the given knowing look. You and Bucky did too but the trip to the destination wasn't an easy one, most of the time, Bucky steps on things he was not sure he can step on, other times you bit off things more than you can chew. Stark and Steve saw what was going on, the three steps forward yet four times back. 

But little things keep you on arms length with the Sergeant: it’s not easy to look past with what you’ve done to him after all; it’s not easy for James to just forget everything that was stolen from him—for another, a part of you was new to this, the unknown butterflies when the Sergeant would do something as he glance at you, the red ears but not from the cold but when you hear James laugh, and the fast-paced beat: it was new to you, you know this feeling, you’ve read it in books: one to many times already but feeling it was another level, one you cannot help yourself but deny.

A bitter taste fell out of your mouth as you listened to the comms as you sneak in inside a control system for a mission, you could hear it—in the comms how Stark, Barnes, Romanoff, and Carter were blending in naturally in the crowd: it was a common hideout, to be honest, a terrorist stealing vibranium and having the operation under a bar-party casino, what a common hideout, it wouldn’t bother you; in reality, it should not bother you—you were HYDRA’s weapon once, undercover and sneak in mission is nothing but a piece of cake.

That would be the case, if you don’t feel a conflicting emotion in your chest—god, you hear it, the little chuckles the fell out of Carter’s mouth as you heard Bucky’s line on the end, he sound so out of character, out of touch, way different as he interacts with you. Cursing under your breath, you entered the camera room.

Without warning to the team, you successfully put the camera in your control, protecting Wanda, Sam, and Rogers from the security’s grasp. In that, you heard Tony’s chuckle.

“There you go, Secret Service, everyone..” He compliments you as he continues his comms. “Told you, you’re fit for the role—I’m great at role assigning after all.” In some cases, you would thank him —but your mind brushes things as Romanoff’s response to the comms was blurry as you recall the planning earlier.

“It’s set in Europe.” Sharon Carter's voice informed the team, as you, Yelena, and Natasha were preparing the things for the mission. As the information was given by Stark and Carter, you waited for further instruction—thus, leading to assigning roles. It wouldn’t matter actually, you were a spy, this would be a piece of cake: but then again, you bit off on something you can’t chew.

“Carter and Barnes, you two will be the undercover Mr. and Mrs. Williams, when we get control of the camera systems, that’s when Rogers, Wilson, and Wanda can come in. That leads to Yelena for going in the vault as me and Ms. Romanoff along with Williams taking charge of what’s in the casino.” Stark looked at Natasha and Rogers for confirmation, they both nodded. 

But you scanned the fake invitations made by Stark for him and Natasha; for Barnes and Carter: The Williams—a new feeling burns within you, but you carry on—for all you see, was Barnes already talking to Carter after the planning—moments like that: you find another reason why you should deny the wanted warmth spreading in your cheek when you talk to Sergeant.

“Hey, secret service, talk to me–” Stark’s pull you out of your trance, you immediately replied. “Yeah? I’m here..” Stark chuckled, as he informed to prepare for a change in plans. 

“Copy that.” A sigh left your mouth and a familiar voice—a softer one than what you once heard in HYDRA’s—”Everything okay, сахарный тростник?” 

Everything okay, sugarcane? In different circumstances, that would have the cheesiest smile out of you, how a stupid toy turned into sugarcane. But things are different, way different—everything was out of touch, instead a monotone left your lips. “Everything’s fine, soldier.” 

“You were not responding for a minute, you sure?”

In his words, you knew Steve wasn’t joking when he shared that Barnes have girls lining up for him in the 40s, knowing damn well, if you existed that time—you would too but as you listen to him, you notice the subtle different tone he uses with Carter, way different when it comes to you, it stings but you already foreseen this: it’s never gonna work, you stole everything from him for fucks sake. It will never work out. Bucky will never figure it out.

Before you could respond, a security breach alarm was ringing the entire place, it was from Yelena’s position—the things happened too fast, you immediately went to Yelena for back-up, which you two gladly got out. Everything was a mess, as far as you can remember, you and Yelena took some enemies, it was an odd pairing as Stark teased in the comms but as you fight, a lingering and gnawing feeling broods in your chest, it wasn’t the fight nor the team’s safety.

It was you, you’re worried about you and the damn stupid butterflies in your stomach. Your mind drifts that even in this different life, you still can’t have what you want to have—unprofessional, sloppy, neglectful, and hideous: as you heard a gunshot and a seething pain in your abdomen, so much for HYDRA’s favored leverage. 

As you felt the pain, the adrenaline coursing to your body made you fight more of the enemies, but the ringing in your ear never left, maybe it was the anxiety or maybe it was the comms, or maybe it was Yelena begging the team to go back to quinjet because you’ve been shot—it would be tolerable, the pain would be tolerable until in the comms you heard a pleading, longing, a lost voice.

“Has anyone seen Carter?” It was Bucky, god, he sound so worried, so distress, that made you wince even the bullet’s pain was nothing, this was much worse, you stumbled your walk as you throw the comms away, luckily Yelena was with you, after a moment, the Falcon and Iron Man carried you and Yelena back to the quinjet, as a limping Sharon Carter and getting assisted by Bucky met your view as Sam made you sit.

Wanda immediately used her ability to heal you but you pushed her hand away. “I’m okay, Wanda. I can take it—look over Sharon and Yelena, yeah?” You smiled at her but as she was about to protest, Steve nudged her shoulder as Steve sat next to you. “My bad, Captain..” You gave Rogers a smile, a masked one—god, you’re in so much pain.

“...You okay?” Stark snickered as Steve sent him a glare. “Rogers, I am fine. You should see the other guy—” but before you can continue, Natasha cut you off.

“You were distracted out there. You were not responding for a minute; you got shot. Want to tell us, what happened?” There she is, the Black Widow, you play with air in your mouth as you look at Steve and glance at Barnes talking to Sharon as Wanda heals her injury. Normally, Natasha would tease you about it but as she notices the subtle glance. She waited for your answer.

“Was not used in that set-up, I guess.” Natasha gave a look to you, call it pity, sadness, but as you stood up, watching as the fabric that Yelena tied in your abdomen was pooling red, you used Steve's shoulders to lift yourself up. “Sorry, was distracted, it won't happen again.” 

Steve was about to guide you but you shrugged him off as you walked in the little bathroom in quinjet. Not-knowing an emotion filled eyes was longing behind your back—how a pair of cerulean colored eyes is watching behind you. The jet was quiet, not because of the tight tension, but a worried one. So, Yelena carried the mood: reminding everyone that the mission is a success, but it wasn’t for Bucky, you were bleeding; he wasn’t there—for him, the mission would rather fail than to see you wincing in every step you make.

You removed your clothes as you removed the cloth that Yelena used to stop the bleeding, you eyed the injury as you knew this was a bit worse than you expect it, with running water, you cleaned it—scrambling the medicine cabinet behind the mirror, applying gauze—-you can ask Banner or Maximoff to look on it, for now, this’ll do.

Few weeks back in the compound, it felt like the time didn’t move. You were pissing off at HYDRA wishing they inserted the serum at you too—so, the healing process would be much faster than you bed-rotting in your room—but you guess, that was better; with Yelena being the closest things you have in sister–she told you everything. Especially the blonde woman hanging out with the terminator. 

She tells stories about them as she sometimes passes out in your room—you love Yelena, there’s no doubt, you thanked her every time she and Natasha would look at you as if you live with them. In the middle of the night, you got out of your bed as you fixed Yelena’s blanket next to you—-your light footsteps left your room, as you went to the kitchen. 

You wanted to make tea, but the heating pain from your abdomen, your movements were slow—it would take—“Sam would’ve ran sixteen laps and your tea is not even close to done.” Of course, the Captain’s voice. He was in his night outfit as you chuckled and nodded. “A little hand, then?” you asked the old man. 

That night, Steve Rogers made you tea as you watched and sat on the counter. “I can feel you staring at me…” Rogers uttered as you shook your head. “I never got to thank you…” You added as he placed a fresh tea on the counter as he also has one too. 

As you sip, a smile left your face—you liked the tea he made. “Peggy taught me in the 40s.” You nodded as he told you how Peggy taught him—before you knew Steve, you thought he just got lucky being Captain America, but with him sitting and studying your look: he’s also a human being that falled in the wrong path of time. With that, you looked at him.

“Does it get easier?” You asked him, it was a broad question. But, somehow, all the speeches he made for the team had the same weight when said: “I lived on ice for 70 years, it’ll eventually get harder.” Not the answer you wanted, but somehow, you knew.

“....but you have us. Eventually, it’ll be okay, not easy, but okay.” He sip his tea as he pulls the picture of Peggy in the compass he carries. 

“You must’ve really liked her…” You added–as he nodded, acting shyly—as he tells his story, but not the one written in the museum, somehow, the longing feeling in your chest was bigger, how he talks about Bucky, is so different from the Bucky you know, it was painful—but at this point, you mirrored Rogers, not missing how his eyes shimmered when he thought of Peggy. With a cup of tea on your hand, you figured it out: you absolutely, without a doubt:

You love James Buchanan Barnes.

Your heart clenches as you settle with the realization—“I’ve seen how you look at Bucky..” Cases like this, you would wanna talk to Natasha first, but, knowing Steve would not let it go, you continued—it’s your way to thank him for the tea, afterall.

“I do, I felt that, months ago—realized it, now. I saw how you talk about Peggy yet I think about how I talked about him.” You chuckled. “Guess his 40s charm never left, but, who would take me—why would I bother with this? I hurt him, stole everything from him and now we're a bunch of agents and icons, there’s no room for that—especially ... .especially with me.” Steve listened intently.

“Pepper and Tony would say otherwise.” You raise your head and meet his gaze. “Barton and his wife would not agree too. Parker and MJ would argue with you about it. Wanda and Vision would explain themselves to you—” You laughed, as you get his point.

“It’s not the same, Rogers—I hurt him. A million times, stole who he is, used what he is—how would he take me?” A bitter chuckle left your lips as cleared your throat, you stood up not wanting to talk more. “Thanks for the tea…” As you closed the door in your room, Steve sighed as he looked at the man standing in the dark corner of the room. 

“You heard her…” Steve got the cups and placed them on the sink, as the man in the corner stepped out. “How would you take her..?” Steve quotes your question. The man lingered his blue eyes in the door of your room. 

“All of her.” 

 It’s true, Barnes should still hate you—but, all at once, next to you, he feels like a child. Like, all the things he felt was damaged within him, felt undamaged—felt like you seen him in his bullshit: the 40s one, the Sergeant one, the Winter Soldier one, the White Wolf one, the James—the Bucky: you take them all, so, he would be a fool not to take all of you too.

Maybe, in the height of it all, 40s Bucky would never forgive you but—in his heart, a growing hope—thanking the stars, the pain, the stitches, the loss—for all of that: he thanked that he was still alive in hope for this love.

Steve nodded and looked at his friend— “Talk to her, Buck.” Bucky nodded, not saying anything but feeling everything—with a soft look at Steve, he realized that he got it—he understood it, that in your shoulder at the library: everything felt right: you hurted him, that is true, god, he hated you.

But in the dreaded past, meeting you, knowing you was the tattooed dream etched in his mind, that inside of the Sergeant, White Wolf, grumpy old man: was his inner child, wishing to spend the rest of his days until the time lets—god, he loves you.

The next day, alarms were all over the compound, you walked out of your room—seeing Tony and Steve in their suits; a missing cerulean eyes. “Where’s Bucky?” Sam immediately went to you, as he tried to push your back into your room.

“You’re still injured, let them handle–this–” You pushed his arm. “Don’t bullshit me, Sam—I am fine, where’s Barnes?” you repeated but as Sam was about to say something, Stark was at your room’s door. “Power Broker got him—” Without a word, you grabbed your stuff and changed your clothes to the uniform Stark made for you.

“Hey, hey, what do you think you’re doing?” Sam’s voice was louder as Tony did his best to stop you too. “Secret Service, listen to me, you’re still injured—you have to stay–”

“Stay?! I will not stay here, Stark, Bucky is—he’s not here—I’m not gonna stand here and hope you guys get him back! What if Zola found him! What if—” Stark cut you off. “We’ll bring him back—your Barnes.” In that you calm down, as you nodded and sat on your bed. As Stark left your room, Sam looked over at you.

“Sam?” 

“Yeah?”

“...I’m gonna follow them..” With that you clutched your bed sheets and begged to all the heavens of the universe to bring him back. Your love back.

James Barnes was sitting in a familiar chair, a chair that reminded him of his past, reminded him of all the blood—it’s happening again, he’s gonna lose all his memories again, he wanted to fight the doctors surrounding him but the drugs in his system were blurring everything. 

His metal hand was strapped as well as his chest and feet—he felt helpless. “Ah, you’re awake.” A voice, Sharon—she visited Bucky’s room last night, for whatever reason, Bucky thought Sharon needed help but as he turned his back, all he felt was the cold floor and woke up with the doctors all over the place with him tied up on the chair.

“Sharon, what the hell is wrong with you?” His voice is bitter, in pain, god, it’s all coming back— “Wrong with me? I am this, солдат.” Soldier. It is different when you say it, that’s the first thing Bucky noticed. “And I am selling you to the market. You are a great deal, Winter Soldier.” 

Of course, Bucky would be used again—the machine starts to produce a sound—a distinct familiar sound, is it always gonna end up like this? But in his throat, he can only plead—he felt like a kid, not the same kid that wishes for you, the kid that was begging to be freed, it felt so weird, familiar, painful, to be back here.

As the machine covers his left eye as he grunts in pain—he thinks of you. He wished he memorized you, he wished he knew how to make your tea, he wished he would remember your words, he wished he was back in the shore again as you ask for forgiveness as he eats the sugarcane, how he wished he was eating at the diner with the jukebox again; how he wished he took you to a dance. 

Then, it was nothing. 

“Солдат?” Sharon called out a name—Soldier?

Against the dark room, a soldier spoke: “Я готов ответить.”  The Winter Soldier was ready to comply.

“Tell me, it’s not you on the comms, Secret Service.” As Stark and Rogers rush inside the building, which was supposed to be a duo-mission, they hear a crackling noise on their comms. “That would be so boring if it wasn’t, right, Stark?” You chuckled, before Rogers can even argue about it—Stark already did.

“You stubborn–You just had your stitches! We’ll handle this! Stay put in your location–you—” But you cut him off.

“Even if you have stitches, Stark! If Potts is there—you’ll do it too, so, let me help…” Stark and Steve sighed, they knew they couldn’t stop you. After Stark sorting you out, you get on the other side of the building while the other two lurk on the other side. It was a dark building, as you successfully sneak in: you immediately scan the area.

The dark room makes you think of HYDRA years ago: it was triggering, your skin feels cold—if you’re feeling like this, what more to Bucky. You need to find him fast, but the pulsing in your head, also doesn’t help, maybe it was the anxiety or maybe when Sam tried to stop you earlier.

“I told you, I won’t let you!” Sam groaned as he blocked your path, for a thousand times. “Sam, please, Cap and Stark need us! They need me, we have to help them!” You fought him, but you knew he was holding back because of your stitches. 

“Work with me, Sam, please..” You pleaded but he got you in a headlock, as you calmed down. He loosened when you tapped his hand. “Please….It’s James. I don’t want him to go through that again, it’s the only way—only thing I can do, Sam—” 

Sam cared about Bucky and you knew that, at this moment, Sam hates that he cares about you too. “Fine, but—” You smiled at him— “I won’t tell Steve.” In that Sam just nodded and let you go. 

Never in your life, thought you would let your feet touch the casket for a man—a man whose heart and past are all broken because of you. You never thought you would see the day why people fought lively in the war because they have someone to go home to, you never thought you would see the day where all can be damned—just not you and Barnes.

The other side of the building is thoroughly occupied by fights: Stark and Rogers are really pushing through—while you see a laboratory, you immediately sneak inside. As Stark updated their situation of being occupied in a fight, you entered the lab. You finally saw Bucky, in the same chair, the first time you saw him. You were angry, pissed, and everything is being in the last line of your moral defense. 

“Oh, Bucky..” you immediately went to the buttons and let the machine let James go, but he remained seated. “Barnes, we have to go—come on–” You checked his face if he was injured, or even concussed, but all you met was a familiar eye, an unwanted one, the one would burn in your guilt—In his dilated eyes, the Winter Soldier is back. It’s not Barnes, not Bucky—HYDRA’s favorite: the one that killed people without blinking. With such hope, you pulled him up but to no avail, Carter’s voice broke through.

“Soldier, attack.”

The Winter Soldier immediately slapped you away, causing you to hit the wall—if it wasn’t for Tony and Shuri’s invention in your suit—you would’ve died but you met the Winter Soldier’s eyes again, this time—you stood at the same spot of his victims before, you knew what they meant: for the first time, you were scared. As Stark had scanned the area from his location, he asked you to stand down and wait for them—but the comms he was giving was meeting the cold floor.

You look at the Winter Soldier. “You really wanna do this, Sharon?” Sharon snickered as she cockily revealed her plan selling the Winter Soldier to the underground. “You’re nothing like Peggy, not a bunch.” Sharon scrunched her nose.

“Because Peggy never stepped up—she could have all this and yet she stayed at the stupid camp. But me, after the government go up against me, I finally find the purpose—”

“What? Like a criminal dealer?” Despite you tensing up, to fight against the Winter Soldier up—you snarked up a reply to Sharon. “That’s lame, you know, if I were you, I would go bi—”

“Shut up! Like you know better, you better stop pretending to be one of them because…you are just like me.” You stared at her; back at the brooding Winter Soldier. “Or not. Soldier…kill.” In that The Winter Soldier immediately attacked you.

For a while, you were able to keep up with his fighting style, you were once a HYDRA after all but a lingering warm feeling scattered in your chest: you can keep up with him because you spar together, you catch up with his speed. Despite the Winter Soldier’s attacking skills, you didn’t fight back, you just put yourself in defense and you tried to whisper words that would trigger his memory. You hoped Steve would arrive and pull the Soldier out of trance, as the Soldier pinned you to the wall, you finally attacked back—you kicked him as he stepped away.

“Soldat, ты меня бесишь.” The soldier grunted, he knew what you meant—he was pissing you off. In that his attack became more aggressive; You tried to recall all the memories, even the one Steve told you but none of them reached the Soldier. He kept punching and kicking you, until his hand hit your stitches, you fell on the ground as you clutch yourself in pain—the soldier reached for the gun, with the last strength you kicked the gun away. 

It fell on the floor as you grabbed it and aimed it at the Soldier. “Stay back, Soldier.” Yet, for the first time, your hand shakes holding a gun. Without abandon, the Soldier still charged, pushing you down to the floor—with an intention to kill,he grabbed a knife but instead of you pulling the trigger, you felt the knife getting deeper in your shoulder, the Winter Soldier twisted the knife, but he flinched when he heard you:

“Full circles…” You winced. “I am really sorry, Bucky…” Suddenly, the Soldier heard the shore, the sweet taste was familiar on his lips, your swiss knife on his hand—Bucky. 

He pulled his hand away as he stared at you. “....Sugarcane..” In that a bitter chuckle left your mouth as you nod. “Barnes..” You felt yourself tear up as you reached his cheek and caressed it. “You’re back…finally, you’re back..” Bucky was tense, he knew what he did but the way you looked at him, melted his inside. He was about to say his apology but a loud explosion occurred. He used his body to shield you as he carried you to the side.

He saw the blood in your suit, as you slowly got dizzy. “Hey, hey, don’t you dare. Sweets, come on–”Bucky tapped your cheek as he saw in the explosion was Stark and Steve, Steve threw his shield to Bucky as Bucky catched it he warned: “Steve! We gotta go, she lost a lot of blood.” Even Tony felt Bucky’s panic. 

“The quinjet is up north the mountain.” Steve said as he and Stark went to catch Sharon Carter. Bucky’s hand was dipping in your shoulder and waist as he carried you back to the quinjet, he kept checking if you were still breathing—he prayed, he was shaking in fear: he can’t lose you, especially not like this. His breathing was ragged as he reached the jet. He was hoping Wanda was there but all there were the buttons of the jet. 

He placed you on a chair as he grabbed the medical kit in a cabinet, he immediately sat on the floor and remove the suit—your stitches thorn and a bleeding shoulder, he was mad at himself, how did he even let it happen, he should not have hurt you, he should—

“Calm down, James…” He felt your hands on his cheek again, grounding him in his panic. He immediately shook his head. “No, no, I did this, I was—”

“You didn’t have a choice…” you smiled. “Besides, I think we’re fair now.” You joked but the giggle didn’t leave Bucky’s lips—-is he going to lose you too? His hand reached for your head as he ran his hand in your hair. “I should’ve asked you to dance with me, that night….” He whispered slowly.

As you nodded, relaxing in his touch. “I guess you owe me…”

“I do, I definitely do, sweets.”

Bucky was reading George Owell’s 1984—despite being a great book: it seemed a tale of HYDRA, he read intently in the library. After a while, he looked over the loft, recalling the memory when he fell asleep next to you. 

“Hey, sweets?” His voice called out, noticing the afternoon turned into night, knowing they drifted in the loft, next to each other. “Yes, Barnes?”

“We’ll read 1984 tomorrow?” He asked but neither of them moved, the proximity within them is warm, it’s home. With a chuckle, a reply left you: “If you’re up for it…”

After a while, he left the library with a longing look on his face as he carried the book, adoring the shared memory, longing for it, wishing he can experience it again—

— Suddenly, he met you carrying new bandages and band-aids. “Didn’t Banner tell you to stay on the bed?” He asked, immediately rushing to you.

“....Did he?” you asked, as you looked like a kid that stole a candy bar. “Well, Banner and Stark went out and my bandages are getting itchy so—I kinda, need to change them.” 

“Couldn’t Natasha or Yelena help you?” You nodded. “I can’t find them and they’re really itchy, Barnes.” You walked away from him as he held your shoulder. “Let’s change it then, sweets.”

Barnes made you sit on the sink of the bathroom as he changed the bandages in your abdomen, as you winced lightly. “This okay, sweets?” You nodded as he purely focused on the bandage. Later, reached another batch of bandages, as you see the guilt look in his face: as he changed the one in your shoulder. “Barnes…” You knew he wasn’t listening, he’s probably blaming himself in his head again.

“Bucky?” you called out, this time, he looked at you. As you reached for his metal arm, he pulled away but then you pulled it as you felt the metal texture. “I’m sorry…I hurted you.” He sighed as you held the wrist of his metal arm. “Guess we’re even—” He shook his head, not liking your humor.

“There could’ve been worse! I could’ve killed you—I could’ve lost you and it’s gonna be my fault–” In his panic, his right hand lightly hit your shoulder—but as he was about to say sorry again, you grabbed both of his cheeks. “We’re alright, Bucky. We’re okay…” You muttered, as you rested your forehead into his. 

“We’re okay.” You both muttered, as he calmed down, he continued to change your bandage on your shoulder, as his body heat was radiating into you. As he wrapped and cut the last bandage—you both stared at each other. His eyes were blue like you remembered, as his eyes linger in your eyes yet longer in your lips. 

Suddenly, it’s just him and you—above anything else, he kissed you. 

To which you smiled as you kiss him back, in the soft edge of the compound, it’s just him and you, his hand rested in your waist as you hold him in his shoulder—you kissed him as if you were memorizing him and he kissed you like he would want to keep your lips on a bottle so, he can get addicted and taste you anytime he wants. 

He pushed further as you pulled away and you chuckled. “I thought the 40s were supposed to bring them on date first…” Bucky eyes glistened with joy— “My bad, sweets, you looked like you wanted to kiss me.” 

As he kissed you lightly again, lingering a little longer—as he pulled away he tucked your hair in your ear. “I suppose I owe you a dance, sweets?” You smiled as you nodded, as you opened your arms for embrace as he indulged in your warmth. “Only if you change my bandages, until I get better?”

He nodded as he kissed your forehead: “You don’t have to ask me, sweets, I got you, always.”

“....You always call me that, after I said sorry to you…sweets, I’m not sweet, I’m a spy like Natasha and Yelen—”

“The sugarcane, sweets. The sugarcane, I still remember that was the only thing we ate that time—yet, even when I was mad at you, you still got me sugarcane, it was really…sweet of you.” He whispered as you laughed. “Steve wasn’t lying when you got your words.” 

He lightly kissed your injured shoulder and muttered a sorry to it. As you two hugged again, you can’t help but hum the song from the diner—playing in the jukebox: I’ve never been in love before—but as you smiled and relaxed at the sink—it felt different, it felt more human—warmest than ever been. 

Upon in a different side of life, you never knew it will turn out like this, watching stars with Barnes, holding hands, dancing in the rhythm, planning what’s for dinner with him;—despite the guilt brooding in each of your chest about what could’ve been in the past the future remains uncertain, as the old man said it will eventually be okay; maybe there was hate or maybe regret: but for a man who woke up 75 years later, he was finally certain as he decided that in each time he will fall in love..

— it's always going to be you.

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3 ₊˚⊹♡ taglist: @yesiamthatwierd, @bitchimasnake-sss, @cjand10, @jayflwr, @buckys-wintersoldier, @buck-buck-buckaroo, @the-winter-spider, @buckys-other-punkk, @mostlymarvelgirl, @winterslove1917. @winterfrosted, @the-winter-spider @nayala, @sluttylittlewaistenthusiast, @samthemarvelfan, @sinner-as-saint

:please message me if you do not wish to be tagged! <3

[spicychickencows]

It is honestly starting to bug the number of people I've seen referring to Cristin Milioti's performance in The Penguin as something along the lines of 'just playing a complete psycho' and how episode four changed all that because that isn't the performance at all and I think it is a disrcedit to the work Milioti is putting in on this character.

There is a lot more going on here (everyone in this show is great but Milioti as Sofia Falcone is the only one I consistly see people undertalking, I wonder why that is?) and it starts with how sad she looks so muc of the time.

The scene that really sells it for me is in episode two, when Sofia is talking to Carla and you get to see a glimpse at who she was before Arkham. That conversation was enough for me to predict The Hangman reveal that doesn't actually come until episode four. It's Sofia's turn when Carla flinches at her talking to her daughter. There is such a clear change a real differentiation between the Sofia who thinks she's found someone who will treat her normally and the Sofia who is realising just how much her family has turned against her.

Milioti is not playing 'just a psycho' until the big plot turns of episode four when suddenly she has depth she didn't have before. Milioti is playing someone desperate, so desperate, to be seen the way she was before Arkham. Episode four is when she admits that isn't going to happen and strikes out to make the most of who she has been forced to become.

And it annoys me a little bit because it suggest to me that a lot fo viewers have completely failed to recognise that the show is about cycles of abuse and the way that changes someone. Oz has been abused all his life, and now he's turning that around on Victor who is unfortunatly buying into it a little too much.

Sofia was put under some of the worst abuse anyone in this show has been and she knows why, and it should be obvious to any viewer thats paying attention. Sofia's abuse was laid on her because she is a woman and a lot of older and more powerful men didn't like how smart she was.

[amorphousbl0b]

Arcane does a fun thing with its narrative Darkest Hour.

Or: yet another post about how insanely smart this show is and how absolutely genius its writers are (and how jealous of them I am).

For the uninitiated, the Darkest Hour is the moment just before the climax in which the heroes are at their lowest point. When the Avengers are scattered and Loki opens the portal in NYC, when the Falcon has escaped the Death Star but lost Obi-Wan, when the Fire Nation is set to annihilate the Earth Kingdom, when Frodo fails to destroy the Ring at the Crack of Doom. The heroes must confront their flaws and change for the better for a happy ending.

Arcane’s darkest hour is, of course, in Act 3. One might place it at the very end of episode 9, and that’s certainly where the story is at its most hopeless. But I’d contend it starts as early as the end of episode 8 and carries on through the entirety of episode 9.

After all, that’s when Caitlyn and Vi have separated, lost all hope, and Cait is kidnapped by Jinx. Jinx’s mind is fully gone and throughout the episode everything falls apart around her. Silco is losing control of his chembarons and may well have lost his daughter, the thing most precious to him, and is only barely keeping his powerful façade in line. Zaun has realized how ridiculously outmatched they are in a war with Piltover and the revolutionary cause has become almost impossible. Viktor has manslaughtered his assistant and may never be cured. Jayce has manslaughtered a child and finally realizes how quickly he’s losing his morals. Mel and her mother are fully separating and she is struggling with her warlike destiny. Sevika gets the absolute snot beat out of her and limps to an empty office without a boss.

So yeah. Lot of personal Darkest Hours going on.

“But what’s the interesting thing?” I hear you ask in my ear. I don’t know why I hear you. Shut up. I’m writing. Are you even real?

Excuse me.

Arcane’s interesting twist on the Darkest Hour lies in part of the trope that I didn’t mention. That’s in the villain.

Most stories with a clear-cut villain have a plot structure something like this:

Whether things are going well for one side is inversely proportional to the other. During the Darkest Hour, when the hero is at their weakest, the villain is at their most dominant.

Wait… isn’t Silco the villain of Arcane? Not to be too blunt, but he’s having a shit time. Things are falling apart for him just as badly as for everyone else.

That's the trick. Caitlyn and Vi are suffering. Jinx is suffering. Silco is suffering. Jayce is suffering. Viktor is suffering. Zaun as a whole is suffering. There is only one party in the whole story that isn't suffering, that actually is benefitting from this horrid state of affairs...

EKKO AND HEIMERDINGER

Kidding. They're not really a part of this dance. A big part of Arcane's theming is that acting to help people without an agenda is simply more virtuous than fighting for any invariably-flawed nation that innately perpetuates the cycle of violence.

No, the side that is doing fine is the other that is conspicuously absent from my two prior lists. While the characters that make up its leadership are experiencing personal Darkest Hours, the organization itself is essentially on top of the world, having just scored a huge victory and getting set to bring the war to an end before it even begins. I mentioned how poor the situation for the Undercity looks, but not its counterpart.

Piltover.

Wasn't it so that Piltover started this whole mess? Didn't their oppression cause the revolt that orphaned Vi and Powder's parents? Isn't it their actions that drive Silco to ever greater extremes? Isn't it their normalized political backstabbing that causes Jayce to sacrifice his principles because that's the only way to get ahead? Isn't it their corrupt police force that lets Silco operate his drug empire with impunity?

Silco might look the part. He might be the most personally evil character, might be the one who causes the most misery for our main protagonists Vi and Powder.

But structurally, the shining city of Piltover, its political machine, and its Enforcers are the actual villains of Arcane.

[goregrinderrr]

MOMMY-

We Cannot Repeat This Cycle - 1

Pairing: Dark!Sofia Falcone x Reader

Warnings: Non-Con, Kidnapping, Thigh Riding, Choking, Kink, Begging, Face Slapping, Threats of Violence, Eventual Stockholm Syndrome.

Summary: Your father owes Sofia money and until she gets paid, she takes you. Unfortunately for you, Sofia takes a liking to you.

Request: Can you please write a fic expanding on the sofia kidnapping reader and getting attached blurb?

You groaned, opening your eyes to find darkness, causing you to panic. You weren’t sure what was going on, but as you tried to stand up, you couldn’t.

“Help!” You screamed out in hopes someone would hear you. “Help me!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, the lights were turned on, causing your eyes to water. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to wait until your eyes could get adjusted.

“You’re finally awake,” a familiar voice said. “Didn’t realize you’d take this long to wake up, but it’s whatever.”

You open your eyes, and when you realized it was the Sofia Falcone, you knew you were fucked. You knew your father owed her a lot of money, but you never thought you’d be the one she would take.

“Please let me go,” you whimpered as she got closer to you. “I… I’ll give you money; name your price, and I’ll give it to you.”

Sofia laughed at your pleas, shaking her head as she got closer to you. You were shaking in fear, unsure of what she was going to do to you. You had heard the stories about Sofia being the hangman, and although you would love to sit there and believe that the rumors weren’t true, as she had you tied to the chair, you were having a hard time.

“I don’t want your money, no.” Sofia laughed, getting uncomfortably close to you. “I think you know why you’re here, and I intend to get my money from your father.”

You shook your head. “He’ll never give you a dime, so you’re wasting your time. Let me pay it off, please.”

You bit your lip as you watched her think your plea over, and to your surprise, Sofia pulled away from you a bit. She walked out of the room, leaving you there all alone, and you wondered if maybe you made her angry more than she already was. You just wanted to help as well as have her let you go as soon as possible. If she hadn’t left the room, you were getting ready to promise that you wouldn’t tell anyone, and the two of you could forget about everything.

After an hour, Sofia returned to the room you were in. You looked at her, biting back a whine at the dress she had changed into. You couldn’t help but think of how good she looked, but when she got in front of you and lowered herself onto your thigh, you were confused.

“What—What are you doing?” You asked.

Sofia ignored your question, grinding down on your thigh hard. She grabbed you by your neck, squeezing hard as she fucked herself on your thigh. You squeezed your eyes shut, but Sofia slapped you across the face, causing your eyes to flutter open.

“You keep your eyes on me while I’m using you; do I make myself clear?” Sofia asked.

She put more pressure on your neck, closing her own eyes as she brought herself to the edge. You sat as still as you could, unsure of what Sofia would do if you tried to move but gasping when she let go of your neck. She continued to grind, pulling your shirt to the side and leaning in to bite your shoulder hard.

“M’gonna put you to such good use until that father of yours pays me my money back.” Sofia informed you, finally moving her mouth off you, “Fuck, you’re going to be such a good girl for me; I already know you will be.”

Sofia was talking to herself as she came, stilling herself as she caught her breath. She smiled at you, still sitting on your lap as if she were studying you—running her tongue against her bottom lip before she finally spoke up.

“I’m going to untie you so you can settle in better, but if you try anything, I’ll just kill ya. That cousin you’re close with will do if you can’t behave. Got it?”

Your eyes widened, nodding. “I got it.”

Sofia got off your lap and tapped your cheek twice before walking away to grab something to cut the rope. You just really hoped that your father would pay her back so you could go home, but knowing him it would be a surprise if he did.

[xxgothchatonxx]

That scene with Sofia and Gia was everything I wanted from that subplot.

We already knew that while her intentions were vastly different, Sofia was continuing the cycle of abuse her father put her through. As soon as she was asking Gia about what she saw, I thought "oh no, Sofia, your Falcone is showing!"

But here's why this is an example of good writing and not lazy, frustrating writing. It's intentional. This show, the entire Batman franchise, is all about cycles of abuse and trauma. As epic and badass as Sofia was when she took down her entire family and took over the crime family, she was still doing what Carmine did, just with a different mentality. She hurt Gia, and her actions will continue to hurt her. But Sofia realizes this and feels guilt over it. If she didn't, then her whole arc gets thrown out the window.

I'll repeat myself - a lesser quality show would not have had a scene like this. Or at least not have it end like it did. These character moments give this whole show that extra layer of drama and tragedy. We didn't 'need' to see Gia again because it doesn't have much to do with The Plot. But it's arguably the most important scene in the episode. Because of how it relates to Sofia's arc.

[readychilledwine]

Do you think each court has their own winged fae? I read Home to Me and can't stop thinking of it.

Absolutely

The Winged Fae of Prythian Headcanons

Warnings - references to wing sensitivity in all ways, long post, sad back stories

A/n - poll at the end for giggles

Dawn - The Peregryn

Similar to the Illyrians, Peregryns are a warrior breed of winged fae

Liz personally pictured hawk to falcon like wings

Their wings allow them to be agile and very fast due to how narrow they are in comparison to Illyrian wings

Their wings are sensitive like Illyrians, but due to the protection the feathers provide, you have to be a little rougher for the same reactions.

Their wings are considered very sacred.

If you were to court a Peregryn male, if they intend to marry you, they will pluck one of their feathers, causing them pain, and offer it to you. Mainly, females will weave that feather in their hair, carrying a piece of their husband at all times.

Peregryn females offer similar tokens to their loves. Males will turn them to writing quills, signing important documents as if their wife is right beside them.

Day - The Celestine

The Celestine are a thought to be an extinct race. They were hunted down by Amarantha's forces.

She did not stop until every last one she knew of was wiped from the court, a cold and calculated move she knew hurt Helion and his father

The Celestine got their name from their wings. Feathers of pure white that glitter gold in the Day Court sunlight. They were thought to be celestial bodies until one of the former Lords of Day finally approached one and realized they were fae

They were a breed of scholars, specifically studying the pegasus. Before Amarantha's attack, you would commonly see them flying with the majestic horses and handling their care.

There are a handful left that warded themselves with the remaining pegasi. The race is slowly rebuilding, but like all fae, pregnancy is rare.

Helion has kept them secret, finding them much to valuable to his court to risk someone getting the same idea.

The Celestine do not have wing sensitivity the way Illyrians and Peregryn do. Their feathers are rather thick.

They do still use their wings as a courting symbol. They will turn a few feather into a clip for their partner's hair. The clips are traditional gold with gems.

Night - The Illyrians

Arguably the most powerful of the Winged fae, the Illyrians reside in the mountains of the Night Court

They are a race of warriors with strong bat like wings.

Due to their wings being so exposed, they are highly sensitive. You could gently run the back of your finger along the ridge and bring a grown male to his knees.

Wings are not used for courting purposes to illyrians, but they are seen as sacred. To touch an illyrian's wings is a great privilege.

Female wings are typically larger than male wings. Hince why they are clipped during a female's first cycle. It makes them non functional and stops them from overshadowing the males.

Autumn - The Leaf Folk

The Leaf Folk race is truly extinct. The Autumn Lords hunted them down like it was a sport for their unique wings.

Their wings were seen as treasures to the people of Autumn due to them being so similar to the leaves of the forest, thus making them a desired object for mating presents and a sign of wealth

They were peaceful fae. Their sole purpose was maintaining the apple trees, ensuring each and every single one was perfect and producing ripe fruits.

Their wings make crinkling noises like autumn leaves as well, giving them camouflage and protection.

Little is known regarding their courting traditions, but it is known they rarely bred or married outside of their own kind

Beron had met one. A female. It was during his youth, before he had been fully corrupted by his father. He learned firsthand how sensitive their wings were.

Just a breath could make this fae putty.

Since the last female was found, her wings now splayed in the Autumn Court throne room long after her death, there's rot settling into the court.

It started in the orchard furthest from the Forest House and has slowly spread.

The last female had whispered something in a tongue no one understood. Centuries later, Eris discovered it was a curse. One that would end when the love of the last female met his death.

Summer - The Stormmakers

The pride of the summer court.

Rich deep grey wings that spark with lightning, the Stormmakers can change the weather with just a breath of magic.

Their wings blend perfectly into storm clouds, their favorite place to play.

Touching their wings is dangerous. They carry lightning in every feather. It can make for an exciting experience if you are into that type of play, though.

They typically do not feel the touch on their wings due to the numbness the constant sparking caused

They are a thriving race, and most are found in their small community they have carved out in a cave.

Courting is not a thing amoung this race. They marry young based on deals made by their parents to ensure a strong bloodline

Spring - Flower Folk

The flower folk are treasures to the Spring Court.

Their wings come in a variety of colors, shapes, and styles, but they are all consistently irredescent and translucent.

They are very peaceful and almost always unseen. Their magic allows them to change their sizes, and most choose to live in fae gardens and houses set up by children in Spring.

They work with pollinators to keep the flowers and fruits growing and producing.

Their wings break very easily due to how thin they are. They do not partake in wing play with just anyone for that reason.

These fae learned to communicate with bees, so it is very common to see them dancing, little pieces of sparkling fae dust coming off them as they do

These are the fae humans warn their children most about, the playful pixies who will lead them into dangerous fae traps.

These fae offer each other butterflies as a courting gift. To exchange a butterfly with them is to accept their offer of marriage due to how sacred they see their winged friends.

Winter - Ice Spirits

Rarely seen and very deadly

These fae have been known to freeze others for discovering their hide outs.

They were once believed to be myth, a nightmare mother's warned their faelings about.

One was dragged to Kallias's father by her hair, and that bond snapping led to one of winter's most well-kept secrets.

They want to be left alone. Do you know how hard it is to maintain winter over four courts?

Their wings look soft, but they are actually made of snow and ice. You can't melt them, though, don't worry.

They hold a soft spot of their Lord and Lady, always willing to take a load off his shoulders and rebuild broken ice dams.

Rhys once approached them asking for more snow fall in Velaris. Mistake. Huge. Mistake.

These fae are well known for their ice sports, but be prepared to watch from a distance

They tried to teach Kal how to ice skate once, he is too muscular to be graceful on the ice and had to instead settle for what they call "hockey." The High Lord has received a few black eyes during his time playing.

These fae also tend to only marry within their own kind.

They purpose with a snowflake they hand crafted. The more intricate the pattern, the longer your love took to craft it for you.

Their wings are always numbed due to how cold they are, but they absolutely love temperature play. Warmth is such a rare thing for them to feel, and it makes their wings very sensitive.

[dirty-fucking-pirate]

hanna barbera cartoons and looney tunes have me on a chokehold rn