#location: stark camp

[crimescrimson]

Ada Wong & Leon S. Kennedy: The History [ Resident Evil 4 (2023) ]

[natsaffection]

Im glad i’m not the only one who saw 4ngel1v’s ai pics!! It just brewed up another idea! I told you it would be soon.

Think about Gp Nat as a beefy bodyguard and reader is like a famous singer or actor🤷‍♀️. And they didn’t meet on great terms, but reader ends up hiring nat and whatever it was between them grew. But thing is that they couldn't distinguish their tension from hate. One thing that reader could distinguish though, was Nats jealousy. SO LIKE A YKYK ENEMIES TO LOVERS BUT RLLY SLOW PROCESS TO LOVERS n smuttyy🤭

“What’s with the attitude, you weren’t as grumpy earlier?”

“Loosen up a little, it’s fine to be a risky once in a while, Natasha”

“You’re giving me a handjob at YOUR premiere. We’re thinking of two different versions of risky.”

-💋

I'm not going anywhere. | N.R

Bodyguard!Natasha x Younger!Actress!Reader

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI! G!P Natasha, Age gap ( R is 22 and Nat is 32) Inappropriate behavior, so much teasing, kinda handjob, begging, rough sex, pet names, angst

Word Count: 9,5k

A/N: Okay, when this is posted I'll be driving 200 km/h on the highway for the next 36 hours. So I hope everything works out, because I don't have the chance to reply right now 🫶🏼🥸

Thank you my lovely anon, you served again 🌚 I really enjoyed writing this, even though I was very carried away

You were born and raised in a small, picturesque town in the heart of the countryside. Your parents, both teachers, instilled a love of learning and creativity in you from an early age. Your mother, an English teacher, often read you classic literature at bedtime, sparking a lifelong passion for storytelling. Your father, a drama teacher, introduced you to the world of theater and encouraged you to participate in school plays and local theater productions.

As a child, you were curious and imaginative, often inventing elaborate stories and characters in your head. You were very popular in your community for your kind heart and lively personality. Despite your small-town upbringing, you always dreamed of something bigger and longed for the excitement and opportunities that lay beyond the boundaries of your hometown.

At 16, your life took a decisive turn when you attended a summer acting camp. The camp was located in a bustling city, a stark contrast to your quiet hometown. There, you met aspiring actors, directors, and producers and for the first time, felt like you belonged. Your talent was quickly recognized by the camp leaders, who encouraged you to pursue a career in acting.

Upon returning home, you were more determined than ever to follow your dreams. You participated in every theater production you could to hone your craft and build a portfolio of diverse roles. Your parents, though initially concerned about the uncertainty of an acting career, wholeheartedly supported you and believed in your talent and dedication.

At 18, you moved to Los Angeles, the hub of the entertainment industry. The transition was daunting, you were a small-town girl in a sprawling, fast-paced city. You faced numerous rejections and challenges, working several part-time jobs to make ends meet while attending auditions and acting classes.

Your perseverance paid off when you landed a small role in an independent film. Though the role was minor, your performance caught the attention of a prominent casting director. Impressed by your natural talent and screen presence, the director recommended you for an audition for an upcoming blockbuster film from a major studio.

Nervous but excited, you gave your best at the audition. Weeks later, you received the life-changing news: you were cast in the lead role of the blockbuster film. The film was a huge success and catapulted you into the spotlight, making you an overnight sensation.

The sudden fame was overwhelming. You went from an anonymous aspiring actress to a celebrity constantly in the public eye. Paparazzi followed your every move, tabloids speculated about your private life, and fans demanded autographs and selfies everywhere you went. Although you were grateful for your success and the opportunities it brought, the lack of privacy and constant scrutiny were challenging.

Despite the challenges, you remained grounded, thanks to the support of your family and close friends. You continued to focus on your craft, taking on diverse roles to prove your versatility as an actress. You also used your platform to advocate for causes you believed in, earning you respect and admiration beyond your acting abilities

You are known for your down-to-earth personality and genuine kindness. You cherish your close circle of friends and often retreat to your hometown to escape the pressures of Hollywood and reconnect with your roots. Your parents remain your biggest supporters, proud of your achievements but always reminding you of the values they instilled in you.

In your free time, you enjoy reading, painting, and exploring new hobbies. You are a passionate traveler and find inspiration in the various cultures and stories you encounter. Despite your fame, you strive to lead a relatively normal life and appreciate the simple pleasures that keep you grounded.

4 years later.

The evening of the premiere was a whirlwind of flashing cameras, excited fans, and palpable excitement in the air. You, dressed in a stunning gown that perfectly captured your rising star status, had just finished a series of red carpet interviews. You felt a mix of excitement and nerves; this night was special not only because of the premiere of your new film but also because you were nominated for an award for another project. It could be the night you finally take home the coveted trophy.

As the event continued, you felt the familiar but inconvenient need to use the restroom. The premiere was in full swing, and you needed to be on stage soon. You made your way through the bustling crowd, your heels clicking on the polished marble floor of the grand theater.

Finally, you spotted the restroom sign and quickened your pace. But as you reached the door, you encountered an imposing figure: a tall, striking woman with piercing eyes and an aura of authority. Dressed in black, the woman stood guard in front of the restroom door, her stance rigid and alert.

"Excuse me, I need to use the restroom," you said, trying to maintain your polite demeanor despite the urgency of your situation.

The woman, whom you would later learn was Natasha Romanoff, did not move. "The restroom is occupied." Natasha replied sharply and unyieldingly. "Okay, surely there is a second stall..." you pleaded, glancing at the closed door behind Natasha.

Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly. "You'll wait.“ Your patience was running thin. You were a rising star and not used to being dismissed so abruptly. "Come on, I need to go, please. This is really important."

Natasha's expression remained unmoved, her voice cold and professional. "I don't care where you need to go. My instruction is to ensure no one enters until it's clear. Now step back."

Frustration boiled within you. You couldn't believe this woman didn't recognize you, given the number of posters and billboards plastered with your face. "Listen, I understand you have a job to do, but so do I. And if I can't use the restroom right now, there will be a disaster."

Natasha smiled and leaned in slightly, "Then you'll have to hold it, sweetheart."

You were taken aback by the dismissive tone. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could say anything, the door behind Natasha opened, and another actress emerged, thanking Natasha for her vigilance. The actress’s eyes widened when she saw you.

"Oh my God, Y/N! Congratulations on the nomination, I loved your performance in the last film.“ the women gushed, clearly impressed. You forced a smile, still simmering with frustration. "Thank you. I'd love to chat, but I really need to use the restroom." The women looked at Natasha with a mix of surprise and something different. "Did you talked to her?“

Natasha's gaze remained unwavering and ignoring the question of the Women. „The restroom is free now." she said, stepping aside without acknowledging the women’s comment. You didn't waste a second and hurried past Natasha with a grateful nod. Inside the restroom, you took a moment to breathe, still fuming from the encounter but also somehow fascinated by the unyielding bodyguard.

When you emerged a few minutes later, you felt much calmer. Natasha was still there, like a sentinel. You couldn't help but feel a sense of challenge. You weren't used to being treated like an ordinary person, and part of you found Natasha's attitude both infuriating and refreshing. Without a word, you walked past Natasha, not giving her a second glance. As you walked away, you heard Natasha call after you: "Next time, plan better."

Your cheeks flushed with anger. You clenched your fists and kept walking, refusing to give Natasha the satisfaction of a response. The audacity of this woman! You couldn't believe how rude and dismissive she had been.

The energy in the grand theater was electric. The audience buzzed with excitement as the prestigious awards ceremony reached its climax. You, still feeling the irritation from the encounter with Natasha, took a deep breath as you awaited the announcement of the award. The presenter, a well-known acting veteran, took the stage and held the envelope containing the winner's name. "And the award for Best Actress goes to..." He paused for dramatic effect, letting the suspense build. "Y/N L/N!"

The room erupted in applause and cheers. Your heart raced as you stood up, your initial frustration forgotten in the wave of exhilaration. You moved gracefully to the stage, your gown sparkling under the bright lights. As you accepted the trophy, you couldn't help but smile at the outpouring of admiration and support from your peers and fans.

With the trophy in hand, you took a moment to collect your thoughts before beginning your speech. "Wow, this is incredible. I can hardly believe I'm standing here holding this award. First, I want to thank the cast and crew who made this film possible. You are all amazing, and I couldn't have done this without you."

As you continued your speech, your eyes wandered over the crowd, taking in the sea of faces. Then you saw her. Natasha. Despite the distance, Natasha's piercing gaze was unmistakable. Your smile faltered for a brief moment, but you quickly recovered. Natasha watched you intently, a slight smile on her lips. When your eyes met, Natasha winked.

The gesture, small but significant, sent a wave of annoyance through you. You could feel your cheeks heat up, not from embarrassment, but from the irritating coolness of the woman who had previously dismissed you so rudely. You continued your speech, trying to ignore the irritation under your calm facade.

"...And finally, I want to thank my family and friends for their unwavering support. You believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself. This award belongs to you as much as it does to me. Thank you all." With a final wave, you stepped off the stage, your mind racing. The applause followed you, but your thoughts were fixated on Natasha. It was infuriating.

Backstage, you were surrounded by well-wishers and photographers, but your thoughts kept drifting back to Natasha. You couldn't shake the feeling that your paths would cross again in a significant way..

A few days after the awards ceremony, your agent called you with concerning news. "Y/N, we need to talk about your safety for your tour. There have been some..incidents." You frowned, recalling the increasing number of intrusive paparazzi and overly enthusiastic fans. "What kind of incidents?"

"Threatening letters, suspicious individuals trying to get close to you. It's getting serious, and we think it's time for you to consider a professional bodyguard." You sighed. The idea of having a bodyguard felt like a double-edged sword. You valued your privacy, but recent events had made you feel vulnerable. "Alright, who do you have in mind?"

Your agent hesitated for a moment. "There's someone highly recommended, but she has a... unique style. Natasha Romanoff.“ Your eyes widened. "You must be joking."

"No? She's one of the best in the field. Her methods are unconventional, but she gets results. Given the current situation, I think she's the right person for the job, plus she’s available now.“ Your mind raced back to the Gala night, the unyielding stance, the cold demeanor, and that infuriating wink. But if Natasha was as good as they said, it might be worth a try. Reluctantly, you agreed.

The next morning, Natasha arrived punctually at the agreed time at your residence. Dressed in her usual black, she looked every bit the seasoned professional. You opened the door, your expression a mix of annoyance and curiosity. "So, we meet again." Natasha nodded, her face impassive. "Hello, sweetheart. Patience today?"

You crossed your arms and stood firm. "Just so we're clear, I don't need you to treat me like a child. I can take care of myself." Natasha's lips twitched into a barely perceptible smile. "Noted. But my job is to protect you, even if you don't like my methods." You felt a flicker of the same irritation you had experienced at the Gala. This was going to be an interesting arrangement, to say the least.

A few weeks after the charity gala, you attended a book signing event for one of your favorite authors. The bookstore was packed with fans and media, all eager to catch a glimpse of the rising star. Natasha, as always, was nearby, scanning the crowd for potential threats.

As you chatted with fans and signed autographs, you felt a growing unease. One particular fan, a middle-aged man, lingered closer than seemed appropriate. His intense gaze and the way he approached you made you uncomfortable.

"Hello, can I take a photo with you?" the man asked, his voice overly eager. You forced a polite smile. "Of course," you said, posing for a quick photo. As you tried to move on to the next fan, the man grabbed your arm.

"Wait, you looked so good in the last movie... your style and all..." he said, tightening his grip. Your smile faded, and you tried to pull your arm back. "Please let go."

The man's grip only tightened, and he began reaching into his pocket. Before you could react, Natasha stepped in. She moved with lightning speed, prying the man's hand off your arm and positioning herself between you.

"Step back." Natasha ordered, her voice cold and commanding. The man looked startled but did not move. "I just wanted to give her something!"

Natasha remained unmoved. "I said step back. Now." The intensity in Natasha's eyes and the firmness of her voice finally got through to the man. He stepped back and disappeared into the crowd. Your heart was racing, but you felt a wave of gratitude toward Natasha. "Thank you.." you said, your voice shaking. Natasha nodded, her eyes still scanning the crowd. "Time to go."

At home, you couldn't shake off the day's events. You sat on the couch, replaying the encounter in your mind. Natasha stood nearby, her stance as rigid as ever. "Are you okay?" Natasha asked, her voice softer than usual You nodded. "Yes, just... a bit shaken." Natasha sat across from you, her expression unreadable. "You handled it well. But you need to be more aware of your surroundings. Fans can be unpredictable." You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and gratitude. "I know. I just didn't expect that."

"That's why I'm here," Natasha said, her tone firm but not unkind. "To expect the unexpected and keep you safe." You looked at Natasha, seeing her in a new light. Despite the rocky start, you realized how much you had come to rely on Natasha's presence. "I appreciate it.“

Natasha gave a crooked smile, a rare expression on her otherwise stoic face. "Just doing my job, princess." You rolled your eyes at the nickname but couldn't suppress a small smile. "You're impossible, you know that?" Natasha's smile widened. "And you're stubborn. I think we make a good team."

In the following weeks, your relationship developed further. There were still plenty of tensions and your share of arguments, but a mutual respect began to grow. Natasha's relentless professionalism and your determination to live your life on your own terms created a dynamic that was both challenging and oddly comforting.

One evening, as you were preparing for another public appearance and saw the crowds you had to move through, you stood closer to Natasha, her presence calming you. Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips forming a teasing smile. "Careful, princess, it almost looks like you actually like me." You laughed and shook your head. "Don't push it, Romanoff. But, since you're here..." Natasha's smile softened a bit. "Anytime."

Despite the nicknames and teasing, there was an unspoken understanding between you both and you couldn't deny Natasha's skills and dedication. Natasha, for all her toughness, began to see the determination and drive behind your fame and youth that had brought you to this point. Slowly, you began to understand each other and formed an uneasy alliance.

Next up was another film premiere, where you were the guest of honor. The tension between you was palpable again, fueled by your contrasting personalities and constant proximity.

While you were getting ready, you felt Natasha's eyes on you, checking every detail. "You know, you don't have to watch me like a hawk." you said, your tone sharper than intended. Natasha leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "It's my job to watch you."

"I can take care of myself." you snapped, turning fully to face her. Natasha's eyes narrowed. "Really? Because from where I stand, you've been pretty naive about the dangers around you."

You felt stung by the implication. "Naive? Just because I'm younger doesn't mean I'm clueless. I've worked hard to get here, and I don't need you undermining me." Natasha pushed off the doorframe and stepped closer. "And I don't need you questioning my every move. You hired me to protect you, and that's what I'm doing. If you don't like my methods, find someone else."

You glared at her, frustration boiling within you. "Maybe I will! I can't stand you treating me like a burden." Natasha's jaw clenched, her eyes flashing with anger. "You think I enjoy this? Looking after a spoiled little girl who doesn't appreciate what I do?"

The words hurt more than you cared to admit, and tears sprang to your eyes. "I'm definitely not spoiled! You don't know anything about me! And you know what? You are i-impossible, Natasha! I've had enough of your condescending attitude."

Natasha took a deep breath, clearly trying to rein in her temper. "Fine. Maybe I'm impossible. But at least I'm doing my job. You want to fire me? Go ahead. But don't come to me when everything falls apart."

You refused to let your tears fall. But Natasha saw them. "You're so arrogant... Do you even care about anything other than your job?" For a moment, Natasha's eyes softened, and you thought you saw a hint of regret, but it was gone in an instant. "I care about keeping you alive, even if you don't see it."

You turned away, struggling to compose yourself. "Just leave me alone for a moment." Natasha gave a curt nod and walked out, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You felt a mix of anger and guilt, knowing that despite everything, Natasha was right. The world you lived in was dangerous, and you needed someone like her to protect you.

Later that evening, you stood on the balcony of your hotel room, staring at the city lights. The day's events played over in your mind, and you felt a pang of guilt for the harsh words you'd thrown at Natasha. You heard the door open and turned to see Natasha, her expression unreadable. "Can I join you?" Natasha asked, her voice surprisingly gentle. You nodded, and Natasha stepped onto the balcony, leaning against the railing next to you.

"I'm sorry," you said after a moment of silence. "For what I said earlier. I didn't mean it." Natasha glanced at you, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have called you naive... and a little girl." You sighed and ran a hand through your hair. "It's just... this whole situation is new to me, okay? I'm not used to someone constantly having to watch over me."

"I know," Natasha said quietly. "And I'm not used to working with someone so... spirited as you. But I'm here to protect you, Y/N. Whether you like it or not." You couldn't help but laugh. "Spirited, huh? That's one way to put it." Natasha's smile widened. "You're tough, I'll give you that. But you need to trust me."

You nodded, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "I trust you. Even if you drive me crazy sometimes." Natasha chuckled. "The feeling is mutual, princess." You rolled your eyes at the nickname but couldn't suppress a smile. "Thank you, Natasha."

"Anytime," Natasha replied, her tone sincere. She looked at you, and before you could think too much about it, you turned and impulsively kissed Natasha on the lips. Natasha stiffened for a moment, then returned the kiss, her lips moving confidently against yours.

Your heart raced as you kissed Natasha, a surprising warmth flooding through you. As you pulled back slightly, you felt something firm press against your hip. Your eyes widened in surprise as you realized what it was. Natasha smirked, clearly noticing your reaction.

"Surprised?" Natasha asked, her voice deep and teasing. You nodded, still a bit stunned. "A little. I didn't see that coming.“ Natasha's smirk widened, a hint of pride in her eyes. "Well, I'm full of surprises."

You felt a blush creep over your cheeks, but you couldn't help but joke to cover your own nervousness. "Didn't know bodyguards got excited so easily." Natasha's eyes darkened with something more than just amusement. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "Only when it's worth it."

Your breath caught as Natasha's hand lightly traced over your back, sending shivers down your spine. Natasha's presence was overwhelming, and you felt your heart pounding in your chest. Natasha leaned over you slightly, her lips brushing your ear. "You're playing a dangerous game, princess," she murmured, her voice husky with desire.

Your cheeks burned, and you felt a wave of excitement that both thrilled and embarrassed you. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. Natasha straightened up, an amused glint in her eyes as she stepped back. "Get some rest," Natasha said, her voice returning to its usual calm tone. "You have a big day tomorrow."

With that, Natasha turned and walked back into the hotel room, leaving you standing on the balcony, your mind racing and your body buzzing with emotions. As you stood there, the cool night air brushing your skin, you knew that things between you and Natasha would never be the same again. When you lay down that night, replaying the memory of the kiss and Natasha's teasing words, you couldn't help but smile, your heart racing with excitement and curiosity about what the future would bring.

Your schedule had become a whirlwind of appearances, interviews, and fan interactions as you toured to promote your latest film. Everywhere you went, enthusiastic fans awaited you, clamoring for autographs and selfies. Natasha was always close by.

One afternoon, you were at a signing event in a busy city. The line of fans stretched around the block, and you took time with each person, chatting and taking photos. However, Natasha noticed a pattern: you were livelier and smiled brighter when interacting with your female fans. It was something you did unconsciously, but Natasha picked up on it.

During a break, Natasha couldn't resist commenting. "You really come alive around the ladies, don't you, princess?" she said, her tone teasing but with a hint of something else. You raised an eyebrow, noting the subtle undertone in Natasha's voice. "What's that supposed to mean?" Natasha shrugged, a smirking smile on her lips. "Just an observation. You seem to enjoy their company more."

You felt a spark of defiance. Remembering the balcony scene and Natasha's teasing nature, you decided to push it further. If Natasha wanted to tease you, you'd give her a taste of her own medicine. "Maybe I do," you said, your tone playful. "Is that a problem?" Natasha's eyes narrowed slightly, but she maintained her cool demeanor. "Not at all. Just interesting to watch."

You decided to take it up a notch. For the rest of the event, you made an extra effort to be even more attentive with your female fans. You laughed louder, leaned in closer for photos, and gave their conversations more attention. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Natasha watching, her jaw tensing slightly.

You found it immensely amusing. You liked seeing the usually unflappable Natasha show a bit of emotion, especially jealousy. It gave you a sense of power in your otherwise tense dynamic.

Later that evening, you returned to the hotel. You were in high spirits, still buoyed by the interactions of the day and the success of your plan to annoy Natasha. As you entered the hotel suite, Natasha finally spoke. "You really enjoyed today, didn't you?“ You turned to her, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "Oh, I did. It was a lot of fun. Especially to see how you lose your composure"

Natasha's eyes flashed with a mix of frustration and something deeper. "My composure? I have not lost my composure." You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a teasing whisper. "Sure looked like it to me." Natasha's gaze hardened, but there was no denying the hint of jealousy there. "Careful, Y/N."

You felt a thrill at the challenge in Natasha's voice. "Nope." Natasha stepped closer, the tension between you crackling like electricity. "You're testing my patience." You smiled, enjoying the power you held in this moment. "And what are you going to do about it?"

Natasha's eyes darkened with desire, and she stepped closer, her body only inches from yours. "Do you really want to know?" Your heart pounded in your chest, the air between you thick with tension. "Maybe I do.“ Natasha leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "Don't forget who you're playing with, princess. I don't give in easily."

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you refused to back down. "Good. Neither do I." Natasha's smile widened, and for a moment, you thought she would kiss you again. But when Natasha turned and walked away, you couldn't help but feel a mix of frustration and excitement. You had pushed Natasha's buttons and gotten a reaction, but you knew that this game you were playing was far from over.

In the following days, you continued to tease Natasha, finding new ways to provoke her jealousy. You found it incredibly amusing to see the normally composed bodyguard show signs of possessiveness. And despite the tension, there was an undeniable thrill in your interactions. Natasha seemed to enjoy the challenge as well. She never backed down and always met your provocations with her own brand of teasing and intensity. Your relationship was a constant back-and-forth, filled with playful banter and underlying desire.

The evening of the final premiere had arrived, and you were in your hotel suite, getting ready for the event. Your hair and makeup team were putting the finishing touches on your look, ensuring every detail was perfect. You wore a stunning dress that hugged your curves in all the right places, the shimmering fabric catching the light beautifully. You looked every bit the star you were, ready to captivate the crowd and cameras.

As you admired your reflection in the mirror, the door to your suite opened. Natasha walked in, looking as composed and confident as ever. She wore her usual black ensemble but had her jacket casually slung over her shoulder, and her blouse was unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hint of her toned chest. The sight made your heart skip a beat, and you hated yourself for finding Natasha so attractive.

Natasha's eyes scanned over you appreciatively, a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, don't you look like a million dollars tonight." You rolled your eyes and tried to hide your blush. "Thanks. You don't look too bad yourself."

Natasha chuckled and stepped closer. "You really know how to turn heads, princess. Try not to cause too many heart attacks out there." You felt a mix of irritation and something warmer, more exciting. "I'll do my best." you said, your tone half teasing, half serious. Natasha's smile widened. "Remember, I'm here to protect you. Can't have you distracting me too much." You laughed and shook your head. "I'll try not to be too much of a distraction."

Natasha's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before she nodded. "Good. Ready to go?" You took a deep breath and cast one last look in the mirror. "Ready."

The red carpet was a flurry of activity, with flashing cameras and cheering fans. You moved gracefully through the crowd, stopping for interviews and photos. Natasha was always nearby, her eyes scanning the surroundings for potential threats. Despite the busy environment, your mind was elsewhere. You had been thinking about the ongoing game with Natasha, the back-and-forth of your interactions, and the growing tension between you. Tonight, you decided, you would take it a step further.

As you entered the theater for the premiere, you could feel the electricity in the air. You excused yourself from the group of people you were with and moved to a quieter part of the lobby. Natasha followed you, her vigilant eyes missing nothing. "Everything okay?" Natasha asked, her tone professional but with a hint of curiosity. You turned to her, a playful glint in your eyes. "Oh, I just needed a moment. It's so hectic out there."

Natasha nodded, her stance relaxed but alert. "You should have thought of that before." You stepped closer, your hand lightly brushing Natasha's arm. "You weren't so grumpy earlier. What's with the attitude now?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but cautious. "I'm not grumpy. I'm just doing my job." You smiled, your hand sliding down to Natasha's waist, your fingers tracing the edge of her pants. “Loosen up a little, it’s fine to be a risky once in a while, Natasha.”

Natasha's eyes darkened with desire as she realized your intentions. "You're giving me a handjob at your premiere. We're thinking of two different versions of risk." You leaned in, your breath warm against Natasha's ear. "Maybe I like my version better." Your hand moved bolder, stroking over the bulge in Natasha's pants. Natasha gasped, but quickly placed her hand over yours to stop your movements. Her grip was firm, and a smirking smile played on her lips as she leaned closer, her voice a soft, seductive whisper.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" Natasha murmured, her breath hot against your ear. "If you keep this up, I'll have you on your knees, begging for more. I'll fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk straight for a week." Your heart raced at Natasha's words, a shiver running down your spine. You felt a mix of excitement and nervousness, your breath hitching.

Natasha stepped back slightly, her eyes meeting yours. "You have no idea what you're getting into, princess." You tried to regain your composure. "Then show me." Natasha's smile turned dangerous and seductive. "Not here. Not now."

Your heart raced, your mind buzzing with anticipation. You stepped back slightly, your eyes meeting Natasha's. "When then?" Natasha's smile was dangerous and seductive. "You'll see." You felt a thrill run through you. You had challenged Natasha, and now you were ready for whatever came next. As you returned to the premiere, the tension between you was palpable, an unspoken promise of things to come.

The premiere went smoothly, but your and Natasha's thoughts were elsewhere. The silent promise you had exchanged hung between you, intensifying every glance, every touch. As the event came to an end, you felt both excited and nervous about what would happen next. Natasha's presence, as always, was a calming force, but now it was charged with a new kind of tension.

As you finally returned to the hotel, you couldn't resist teasing Natasha one last time. "So, what's next, bodyguard? Do you still think I'm playing a dangerous game?" Natasha's eyes were dark with promise as she stepped closer. "Oh, princess, the game has only just begun." You felt a shiver of excitement. "Good. I wouldn't want it any other way."

You turned to head to your room, thinking you had the upper hand. But before you could take more than a few steps, Natasha grabbed your arm and effortlessly swung you over her shoulder. You gasped in surprise as Natasha carried you into the bedroom.

"Natasha! W-What are you doing!?" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of shock and excitement. Natasha didn't answer immediately. Instead, she gave you a quick, firm smack on your butt, making you gasp. "You wanted to play games, princess. Now it's my turn." Your heart raced as Natasha carried you into the bedroom and tossed you onto the bed. Natasha stood at the foot of the bed, removing her jacket and unbuttoning her blouse with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving yours.

"You've been teasing me all night," Natasha said, her voice deep and commanding. "Now it's time to show you what happens when you play with fire." You felt a wave of heat wash over you as you watched Natasha undress. You bit your lip, your breath catching in anticipation.

Natasha climbed onto the bed, her movements predatory and deliberate. She leaned over you, her hands pinning your wrists above your head as she kissed you deeply and possessively. You responded eagerly, your body arching into Natasha's. She broke the kiss, her lips brushing your ear. "You belong to me tonight, princess. And I'm going to make sure you remember it."

Your faces were only inches apart, and you could feel Natasha's breath on your skin. The tension between you crackled like electricity, a mix of anger and desire. Your teasing had always been a game to provoke Natasha, but now, faced with the intensity of Natasha's gaze, you realized how far you had pushed her.

"You drive me crazy, Y/N," Natasha whispered, her voice rough. "Now it's my turn." Your heart skipped a beat, your body trembling with anticipation. "Then don't hold back, please.." you replied, your voice barely more than a whisper. Natasha's smile widened, and she leaned in, her lips brushing your ear. "Oh, I don't plan to."

Natasha's lips crashed onto yours, the kiss fierce and demanding. You responded eagerly, your body arching into Natasha's, your skin tingling with the intensity of the moment. Natasha's hands moved purposefully, one sliding down your side, her fingertips tracing the hem of your dress before slipping underneath.

You gasped into the kiss as Natasha's fingers drew patterns on your skin, sending waves of pleasure through you. You had never experienced such a touch, so firm, so assured. It was as if Natasha knew exactly how to unravel you. "Natasha.." you breathed, your voice trembling with desire. "Please..." Natasha pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her gaze fierce and intense. "Oh, I like that. Please what?" she demanded, her tone commanding.

"Please... more.." you begged, your body aching for Natasha's touch. A satisfied smile spread across Natasha’s face as she obliged, her fingers finding their way to your most sensitive spots, drawing moans and gasps from you that filled the room. Your world narrowed to the sensation of Natasha's touch, your body responding with an intensity you had never known.

Natasha's hands moved expertly, teasing and pleasing you until you trembled with desire. Just as you thought you couldn't take anymore, Natasha pulled back slightly, her gaze dark and full of promise. "You're not ready for what's coming next," Natasha said, her voice deep and husky. She stood up, her movements intentionally slow, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

You watched with wide eyes as Natasha unbuckled her belt, your gaze following her every move. As Natasha's pants fell to the floor, you caught your breath. There, proud and ready, was Natasha's member. Natasha reached into her pocket and pulled out a condom, rolling it on with practiced ease.

"You were prepared," you teased, your voice breathless. "Did you know the night would end like this?" Natasha gave you a sly smile. "I had a feeling. And by the end of the night, you won't have that attitude anymore."

Your body responded to Natasha's words, a mix of excitement and anticipation coursing through you. Natasha climbed back onto the bed, positioning herself between your legs. She leaned in to capture your lips in another searing kiss, her hands roaming over your body, stoking the flames of desire even higher.

As Natasha slowly entered you, you gasped at the sensation, your body arching into hers. The feeling was unlike anything you had ever experienced, a perfect blend of pleasure and connection. Natasha moved with a careful rhythm, watching your reactions to ensure every movement brought you joy. "Do you like that?" Natasha whispered, her voice deep and rough. "Do you like feeling me inside you?"

"Y-Yes, oh God, yes.." you moaned, your hands clutching at Natasha's back, your nails digging into her skin as waves of pleasure washed over you. "Good," Natasha growled, increasing her pace slightly. "Because I'm not stopping until you've learned your lesson." Your breath grew heavy, your moans louder with each thrust. Natasha's lips found your neck, kissing you, making you tremble. Natasha's hand slipped between you, her fingers brushing over your clit in teasing, light touches.

"Natasha!" you gasped, your body jolting at the sudden rush of pleasure. "Please, stop..."

"Just a taste of your own medicine," Natasha murmured, her voice a husky whisper against your skin. She kept her slow, torturous rhythm, her fingers lightly dancing over your sensitive spot, driving you wild with desire. Your frustration mingled with your arousal, the teasing making you desperate. "Please, Natasha... I need more.." you begged, your voice trembling.

Natasha's smile deepened, savoring your pleading. "You need to learn that actions have consequences," she said, her pace increasing, each thrust deeper and harder. "Is this what you wanted, Y/N? To be dominated, made to beg?"

"Yes, yes!" you whimpered, your body arching, seeking more. "Please, Natasha, I need you..“ Seeing your desperation, Natasha finally relented. She increased her pace, her thrusts becoming rougher, harder. Her fingers pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing in perfect rhythm with her movements. "You feel so good," Natasha groaned, her own arousal evident in her voice. "So tight around me. You love being fucked like this, don't you?"

„God.." you cried, your body shaking with the intensity of your pleasure. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

"I'm not," Natasha promised, her voice rough with desire. She began slowly, her thrusts gentle and deliberate, giving you time to adjust to the new sensation. Each movement was measured, designed to build the pleasure slowly. Her fingers pressed firmly against your clit, rubbing in perfect rhythm with her movements. "You feel so good," Natasha groaned, her own arousal evident in her voice. "So tight around me. I told you how it would end."

"Oh God!" you cried, your body shaking with the intensity of your pleasure. "Don't stop, please don't stop..“ Natasha's breath came heavy, her movements becoming more urgent. "You're going to take everything I give you," she growled. "And you're going to love it." Natasha's eyes burned with a mix of desire and something deeper. "Turn around," she commanded, her voice rough. "I want to take you from behind."

You complied, your body trembling with anticipation. Natasha positioned herself behind you, her hands gripping your hips firmly. With one swift motion, Natasha entered you again, the new angle sending a fresh wave of pleasure through your body. "God, you feel so good," Natasha groaned, her pace rough and relentless. "Do you like this, Y/N? Do you like being fucked like this?"

"Yes, Natasha, y-yees.." you cried, your body pushing back against each thrust. "Harder, please, harder..“ Natasha's grunts filled the room, her movements becoming more powerful, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. "Fuck, what would your fans say if they saw you like this?" she growled.

Your world was a whirl of sensations, your body burning with pleasure. "Please, please, please!" you gasped, your voice breaking with need. "Please, I'm so close.."

Natasha's hands slid to your shoulders, pulling you back with each thrust, her pace unrelenting. "I want to see your face when you come," Natasha demanded, her voice rough. You turned, your eyes meeting Natasha's intense gaze. Natasha didn't break the connection, her thrusts deep and powerful, her eyes locked on yours. "You're so beautiful," Natasha murmured, her voice filled with raw emotion. "Come for me, Y/N. I want to see you come."

Your body obeyed, the intensity of Natasha's gaze and the power of her movements driving you over the edge. You called out Natasha's name, your body trembling with the force of your orgasm, your eyes never leaving Natasha's. She followed you, her own orgasm hitting her hard, her body tensing with the release. She held you close, your bodies entwined, the intensity of your connection overwhelming.

When it was over, Natasha collapsed beside you, both of you breathing heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. You looked up at Natasha, your eyes shining with gratitude and something deeper. "That was... incredible," you whispered, your voice shaking. Natasha smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "You're incredible," she replied softly, her touch now tender, filled with affection.

You snuggled into Natasha's embrace, feeling safe. You had challenged Natasha, teased her, but now you understood the depth of it and the passion that lay beneath your banter. It was a night you would indeed never forget.

The next morning, the sunlight filtered gently through the curtains of your hotel room, casting a warm glow across the bed. You stirred slowly, a pleasant ache in your muscles reminding you of the intense connection you had shared with Natasha the previous night. A contented smile spread across your face as you replayed the events in your mind. The way Natasha had made you feel cherished and desired was unlike anything you had experienced before.

As you stretched lazily, you noticed Natasha already up and moving around the room, her movements efficient and purposeful as she dressed in her black uniform. Still feeling the warmth of the night, you sat up and instinctively pulled the blanket around you.

Natasha caught sight of your movement and smirked. "You don't have to hide under the blanket, princess," she teased, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I've already seen everything." You felt a blush rise to your cheeks but managed a small smile. "Force of habit, I guess." Natasha chuckled softly and walked over to the bed, sitting down beside you. She reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from your face. "How are you feeling?"

You leaned into her touch, savoring the intimacy. "Good. Better than good, actually." Natasha's smile softened, and she pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. "Good. We've got a busy day ahead. Remember, it's the final interview for the film today." You nodded, the reality of the day settling in. "Right. The last interview." Natasha's eyes searched yours, a hint of concern flickering in them. "Are you ready for it?"

You sighed, feeling a pang of anxiety. "I think so. Just... nervous, I guess." Natasha squeezed your hand reassuringly. "You'll do great. And I'll be right there with you."

As Natasha continued getting ready, you reached for your phone on the nightstand. Unlocking it, you saw a barrage of notifications. Among the messages was one from a close friend, marked urgent. Curiosity piqued, you opened the message thread.

The message read: "Y/N, have you seen these articles? Be careful with Natasha Romanoff. She's got a reputation." Attached were several links to articles and gossip columns detailing Natasha's past relationships, her numerous one-night stands, and her professional life as a bodyguard. The headlines screamed warnings about her dangerous allure and the trail of broken hearts she had left behind.

Your heart sank as you scrolled through the articles, each one chipping away at the happiness you had felt just moments before. The friend’s message continued: "I just don't want to see you get hurt. She might be good at her job, but she's also known for not sticking around."

Natasha's teasing smile from this morning flashed in your mind: "You don't have to hide under the blanket, princess. I've already seen everything." What if you were just another conquest for her? The memory of her passionate words from last night seemed suddenly tainted "You belong to me tonight, princess. And I'm going to make sure you remember it."

Natasha noticed the shift in your expression and the way you had gone quiet, your eyes glued to your phone. "Y/N, is everything okay?" she asked, concern lacing her voice. You quickly locked your phone and forced a smile. "Yeah, just... some messages." But the seed of doubt had been planted. Despite your efforts to focus, the words from the articles lingered in your mind. Was last night just another notch on Natasha's belt?

As you got ready, Natasha left you alone for a moment to gather your thoughts. The anxiety gnawed at you, turning the warmth you had felt into a cold pit in your stomach.

The day passed in a blur of preparations and travel to the interview location. Your mind kept drifting back to the articles, the warnings, the doubt. By the time you arrived at the studio, the unease had settled deep within you.

When the time for the interview finally arrived, you found yourself sitting in a brightly lit studio, facing a well-known interviewer. The cameras rolled, and the interview began. You tried to concentrate, but your mind kept wandering, haunted by the headlines and Natasha's reputation. "So, Y/N, this film has been a huge success. How has the journey been for you?" You forced a smile, trying to gather your thoughts. "It's been incredible. The cast and crew were amazing, and I learned so much."

But even as you spoke, you couldn't shake the memory of Natasha's voice from last night"Do you like feeling me inside you?"

"Can you share any particularly memorable moments from the set?" You hesitated, your mind momentarily blank. "Uh, there were so many great moments. I think... the camaraderie we shared off-camera was really special."

Natasha's teasing smile from this morning flashed in your mind "You don't have to hide under the blanket, princess. I've already seen everything."

"What are your plans after this film? Any new projects in the pipeline?" You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you. "I'm exploring a few options, but nothing's set in stone yet."

Natasha's concern earlier replayed in your mind "Are you ready for it?" The interview continued, but your responses grew increasingly mechanical. Natasha, standing just off-camera, noticed the shift in your demeanor. Her brow furrowed with concern as she watched you, sensing something was wrong. She began to worry that she had overstepped last night, that perhaps she had pushed you too far.

When the interview finally concluded, you left the studio feeling drained and unsettled. Natasha was by your side immediately, her eyes filled with worry. "Y/N, what's wrong?" Natasha asked, her voice gentle yet urgent. "Did something happen during the interview?"

You shook your head, avoiding her gaze. "No, it's not that. I just... need some space right now." Natasha's heart clenched at your words. She followed you silently back to the hotel, the worry gnawing at her. Had she misread the signals? Had she taken things too far last night? The thought of having hurt you in any way made her feel sick.

Back in the hotel room, you sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor. Natasha hovered nearby, her concern evident "Y/N, please talk to me," Natasha said softly. "I can't help if I don't know what's wrong." You took a deep breath, feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm.. scared, Natasha..“

Natasha's heart ached at the vulnerability in your voice. She stepped closer, her hand gently cupping your cheek. "Scared of what? Talk to me, please." You finally met her gaze, the tears spilling over. "I'm scared that last night... that it was just a one-time thing for you. That you only wanted me for my body."

Natasha's eyes widened in shock, and she immediately knelt in front of you, taking your hands in hers. "W-What?“ You reluctantly lifted your gaze to hers, seeing the sincerity and depth of her feelings reflected in her eyes. "Last night was not just a one-time thing for me," Natasha said firmly. "I didn't just want you for your body. You mean so much more to me than that."

You searched her eyes, your voice trembling. "But what if... what if this changes things between us? What if it's just a fling?" Natasha shook her head, her grip on your hands gentle but steady. "It won't be. Because I care about you, Y/N. More than I've cared about anyone in a long time. Last night meant everything to me, and I don't want it to end there." Tears flowed freely now, and Natasha wiped them away with her thumbs, her gaze never leaving yours.

"But what about all these articles and rumors about you?" you asked, the fear and doubt still lingering in your voice. "They say you've had so many one-night stands and relationships that didn't last. How do I know I'm not just another one?" Natasha sighed deeply, her expression turning serious. "Do you remember the actress you met at the restroom at the Gala?" You nodded, recalling the striking woman who had seemed so authoritative.

"Her name is Jessica," Natasha continued. "We were in a relationship a few month ago. It was toxic and manipulative. When I finally managed to leave her, she was furious. She threatened to ruin my reputation if I ever left her." Natasha pulled out her phone and showed you a message thread. "Here, look at this." She scrolled to a particular message and handed you the phone. The message read:

"If you leave, I will destroy your life, your reputation, everything, Natasha. No one will ever trust you again."

You felt a chill run down your spine as you read the words. Natasha's voice was steady but filled with pain. "She's the one who started those rumors and spread the articles. I'm already taking legal action against her, but these things take time."

You looked up at Natasha, seeing the sincerity and anguish in her eyes. "I had no idea..." Natasha cupped your face gently. "I would never use you, Y/N. What we have is real, and I want to protect it. Protect you. Please believe me."

You searched her eyes, feeling the sincerity in her words. "But how can I be sure?" Natasha's grip on your hands tightened, her gaze unwavering. "Because I'm standing here, telling you this. I'm not going anywhere, Y/N. I want to be with you, not just for a night, but for as long as you'll have me."

You felt a flood of relief and emotion wash over you. "I want that too, Natasha. I just... I needed to know." Natasha pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close. "You don't have to be afraid. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere." You clung to her, feeling the warmth and strength of her presence. The fear and doubt that had plagued you melted away in the face of Natasha's unwavering support.

As the day continued, you felt a renewed sense of connection and understanding with Natasha. The bond between you had deepened, forged through honesty and vulnerability. With the whirlwind of your film promotion tour finally over, you felt a mix of relief and excitement as you arrived back at your home. For the first time in months, you had some well-deserved time off. Natasha, your steadfast bodyguard, was right by your side as you walked through the front door of your cozy house.

"Home sweet home.." you sighed, dropping your bags and stretching your arms. The familiar surroundings brought a sense of peace that you had missed during your hectic schedule.

Natasha smiled, leaning against the doorway. "It's nice to see you relax." You turned to her, a question lingering in your mind. "So, what happens now? Do you move on to another client with a tour or something?" Natasha raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. "Actually, I took some time off too."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Really? You took time off to stay here?" Natasha nodded, stepping closer. "Yes, I wanted to spend more time with you. I meant what I said a few days ago, Y/N."

A wave of warmth and happiness washed over you. "You really do care," you whispered, feeling your heart swell with affection. Natasha cupped your face gently, her eyes soft and sincere. "I care a lot, and I want to make the most of this time we have together."

The next few days were blissful. You and Natasha spent time just enjoying each other's company, something you hadn't been able to do during the tour. The bond between you grew stronger, built on trust and genuine affection. One lazy afternoon, as you lounged on the couch together, you started discussing potential vacation destinations. "We should go somewhere special," you suggested, scrolling through various travel websites on your laptop. "How about a trip to a secluded beach resort? Just the two of us."

Natasha leaned in, looking at the screen. "That sounds perfect." You found a beautiful resort that offered private bungalows by the ocean and various activities for couples. "This one looks amazing," you said excitedly. "Let me book it."

Before you could click the "book now" button, the doorbell rings, "Food is here!" You sprint over and meanwhile Natasha took the laptop and made the booking. When you come back with two pizza boxes, you pouted playfully. "Hey! I wanted to pay for it!“ Natasha chuckled, pulling you into her arms. "I know, but I wanted to do this for us." You gave her a mock glare. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Natasha silenced you with a gentle kiss, her lips soft and tender against yours. "Shush," she whispered against your lips. "Let me take care of you for once." You melted into her embrace, feeling the love and care she poured into every touch and kiss. "Okay," you murmured, a smile tugging at your lips. "I guess I can let you spoil me this time."

The anticipation of your upcoming trip added an extra layer of excitement to your days. You spent your time planning activities and daydreaming about the sun, sand, and sea. The more you got to know Natasha in this relaxed setting, the more you realized how deeply you felt for her. As the departure date for your vacation approached, you and Natasha packed your bags with a mix of excitement and eagerness. The thought of being in a beautiful, secluded place with her made your heart race.

Finally, the day arrived, and you both boarded the plane to your dream destination. The flight was smooth, filled with laughter and light conversations about the adventures you planned to have. Upon landing, you were greeted with warm ocean breezes and the sound of waves crashing on the shore.

Your bungalow was even more beautiful than the pictures, nestled right on the beach with a stunning view of the turquoise waters. As you stepped inside, you felt a sense of tranquility wash over you. "This is perfect," you sighed, looking out at the ocean from the large windows. Natasha wrapped her arms around you from behind, resting her chin on your shoulder. "It really is. I'm glad we're here together."

You turned in her arms, looking up at her with a smile. "Me too. Thank you for everything, Natasha." She leaned down and kissed you softly. "Anything for you, Princess." The days that followed were filled with pure bliss. You and Natasha spent your time exploring the beach, swimming in the crystal-clear waters, and enjoying romantic dinners under the stars. Each moment felt like a precious gift, strengthening the bond you shared.

[stellarbit]

Hiiii! I love your writing so much! Can you please do one with crosshair and his adorable general who’s super sweet but is super shy and easily frightened. Because of this crosshair is SUPER protective of her and every time someone teases him about it he completely denies his feelings for her. And of course, his general is totally oblivious to this.

Though I am slow at requests, I so appreciate what y'all send me. I hope you enjoy <3

Word Count: 1.9k Pairing: fem!reader x Crosshair No Warnings Summary: A little drabble of Crosshair basically being a grumpy shadow for ya in the best way.

Crosshair stuck the butt of his rifle in your path. "Not a chance," he stated flatly.

You were deep into a recon mission for the legion you both were aiding. As the Jedi General assigned to Clone Force 99, your task was to locate and rendezvous with the commanding General. The journey required traversing two kliks over a rugged ridge, and having Crosshair, with his keen sniper's eye, was indispensable. Just as you were gearing up to leap down to a lower vantage point, he intervened.

Gently pushing his rifle aside with two fingers, you questioned, "Why not?"

His gaze followed the trajectory of your intended jump. "Doesn't seem like your kind of jump," he remarked coolly. He’d gotten a glimpse of your fear of heights a few missions ago and had yet to let you live it down.

“I can handle it.” You challenged him.

“Sure you can.” Crosshair replied. He readjusted his rifle and pivoted away, signaling for you to follow without awaiting a reply. "Let's move."

Catching up, you prodded him, "Who's in command here, exactly?" Your tone was light, playful even. It was this easy going demeanor that had landed you with Clone Force 99; your leadership style didn't clash with the team's dynamic, as you knew when to lead and when to listen.

Crosshair snorted, but continued on in silence. He’d welcomed your being assigned to his squad. Despite not being fond of over the top accolades, he couldn’t deny he enjoyed the recognition. Even without the Force, he found you impressive. You were skilled and selfless, sometimes to your own detriment. 

Despite your clear nervousness, you never allowed fear to dominate. The entire squad had noticed your jumpiness, a stark contrast to your fearless command. Crosshair, with his sniper eyes, noted the small tells: the slight purse of your lips before diving into water, the held breath as you squeezed through narrow gaps. Your reaction to the sudden boom of cannons or the sharp crack of thunder was almost instinctual, a flinch that you could barely control.

Yet, for all your sensitivities, you never let them hinder the mission. You pressed on without complaint, earning not just Crosshair’s respect but his silent guardianship. He watched over you, often from a distance, ensuring that nothing would compromise your focus or safety.

That protectiveness went into high gear when you’d nearly slipped down a steep cliff. You’d caught yourself well enough and in doing so you clung to Crosshair immediately beside you. Even through his armor he could feel your trembling. It was only for a moment, you released him quickly enough, but Crosshair picked up on it all the same.

Once you scouted the ridge, you commed the commanding General and headed for the rendezvous spot. 

“He said he and his captain will meet us back at camp,” you relayed, checking the coordinates on your comm device before glancing at Crosshair. “We should make it back before they do.”

“Is that a challenge?” Crosshair asked, a scoff at the end.

You hummed playfully, “I didn’t realize that would be a challenge for you.”

Crosshair held his rifle close, positioning himself to sprint. “Don’t expect me to catch you if you trip.”

The suggestion sent a jolt through you—was it the fear or the thought of his arms catching you? There wasn’t time to ponder as Crosshair surged ahead. Show off, you mused silently, though the view of him leading the way was something you never complained about.

Before returning to camp, you had to make it down a steep incline - about 50 feet. Crosshair slid down the incline, as nimble as ever. At the bottom, he secured his rifle across his pack and shifted his weight onto one foot, signaling you to follow.

“Don’t worry,” He said, his teasing bordered on mocking. “When you fall, I’ll catch you.” Even with his helmet concealing his features, the slight tilt of his head suggested a smirk.

Without pausing to gauge the distance, you summoned the Force behind your movement and launched yourself down the incline. It was a controlled, forceful descent aimed directly at the sniper. His helmet jerked back slightly, caught off-guard by your bold maneuver, as he braced to intercept you. 

You could have eased the landing, but the opportunity to test Crosshair's assurance was far too tempting. True to his word, he caught you adeptly, his movements syncing perfectly with your descent. He pivoted, his arm securing around your legs while his other hand steadied at the small of your back, guiding you safely against him. Your waist nestled just below his chest, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders as you looked down at him with a smile.

A subtle motion caught your attention—the soft brush of his thumb across your back, almost imperceptible.

“Nice catch.” You whispered down to him. 

Crosshair’s helmet, angled up towards you, tilted subtly to the side—a silent question or perhaps contemplation. He made no move to lower you to the ground, his arms creating a gentle but firm cradle. You remained as motionless as possible, acutely aware of every point of contact. The warmth from where your bodies touched seemed to radiate, intensifying the sensations.

Under the fading light of dusk, shadows played across your faces, cloaking the flush that had started to climb up your neck. You hoped the dimness concealed your reaction, though part of you wondered if Crosshair, with his keen senses, could detect the change in your pulse or the slight tremor in your breath.

With a slight shift, Crosshair broke the silence in a dry tone, “Should we include you jumping into my arms in the debrief or was the little show just for me?” Even hidden behind his helmet, the slight tilt of his head suggested a smirk.

A flush of embarrassment warmed your cheeks as another thumb brushed the small of your back, the slow, deliberate motion sending a shiver through you. You arched involuntarily at the touch, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. Squirming slightly under his gaze, you managed to wiggle free from his loose embrace and found your footing on solid ground. Your hands lingered on his chest briefly, feeling his arms still encircling you.

Before he felt your hands trembling, you gave him a light pat on the chest. “Best keep it between us - wouldn’t want to have to explain your slow reflexes.” You were impressed by the steadiness in your voice.

Crosshair stepped back, feigning offense. “Slow reflexes? You launched yourself at me.” It wasn’t an accusatory statement, more of a reminder.

Backing away in the direction of camp, you wagged a finger between the two of you. “Between us it is.” At the rate you walked away you were practically fleeing the scene.

You ended up making it back before the other general. Crosshair joined his brother’s at the landing strip of the Marauder while you checked in with the Commander on duty.

As Crosshair approached he pulled his helmet off and slipped a toothpick between his lips. 

Hunter leaned against the wing of the shuttle and said, “Took you long enough.” The comment earned a sharp glance from Crosshair, his expression tightening just enough to convey his annoyance. Hunter had watched his brother pick at you and knew him enough to know Crosshair was fussing over you in his own way.

Tech's voice preceded him from the ship. “Right on time. The other general is arriving momentarily as well.” Descending the stairs, Tech barely lifted his eyes from his datapad. “We should be departing shortly.”

True to Tech's prediction, the Jedi General in command and his Clone Captain emerged through the underbrush soon after. While you engaged in a discussion with the General, the Clone Captain approached the rest of the Batch. 

He tilted his helmet respectfully. “Thanks for the support, troopers. They weren’t kidding when they said you were effective.”

Wrecker snorted, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, someone's gotta be good at their job around here.”

The Captain did a double take at the large clone, but only shook his helmet in response. Resting a hand on his hip, he glanced towards where his Jedi General was standing. With a chuckle, he mused aloud, “I wouldn��t mind being under her command.”

Tech audibly groaned, while Crosshair’s head snapped towards the Captain, his body language tense. “And why is that?” His voice was sharp, a clear edge underlying the question.

Hunter inhaled deeply, sensing the brewing storm. Wrecker, meanwhile, stood by grinning, evidently enjoying the unfolding drama.

Nonchalantly, the Captain gestured towards you, unaware of the undercurrents swirling around him. “Who wouldn’t want to get to look at her all the time?”

Crosshair’s helmet muffled his simmering as he pulled it over his head. Turning to face him directly, Crosshair tilted his head towards the Captain. “You’ll have to say that again.”

The Captain, caught off guard by the sniper’s intensity, scoffed dismissively, “Is that right?”

In a taunting, egging-on voice Crosshair said, “Either you say it to her.” Crosshair pointed to you then stepped closer, invading the Captain’s personal space, his posture menacing. “Or you say it to me.”

A dismissive chuckle came from the Captain and he said, “Fine.”

Meanwhile, you wrapped up with the General. “Anytime Master, we’re happy to have helped.” You were about to shake their hand when you noticed a commotion at the edge of your vision.

The next moment Crosshair rammed his helmet into the Captain’s with enough force to send the man on his ass. 

“Time to go,” you sighed, rushing towards the unfolding scene. A few regs were gathering by the time you made it through. 

Crosshair was poised to advance on the fallen Captain when you intervened. Slipping in front of him, you wrapped your arms around his armored torso, your presence an immediate barrier. His rage simmered down to a trembling restraint under your hold.

“Cross,” you said with a firm tone, but softened immediately when he pushed against you again. “Hey, hey, hey. Who’s jumping into whose arms now, huh?” Crosshair held the pressure a moment longer, his breath heavy against you, then growled softly and stepped back.

Realizing your hands were still at his sides, you snatched your hands back as if he was too hot to touch.

“Wise choice,” Crosshair sneered over your shoulder at the Captain, who was clumsily regaining his footing. His hand found its way to your waist, and with a hiss that betrayed a blend of annoyance and protective instinct, he murmured, “After you, General,” guiding you towards the Marauder’s ramp with an unexpected gentleness.

As you passed Hunter, his smirk broad and clearly entertained, Crosshair snapped, “Stow it.”

Your head swiveled between them, confusion knitting your brows. Once on the ship, you halted and pushed back against Crosshair’s guiding hand, spinning around to face him while trying to ignore how his touch lingered. “You just had to fight, didn’t you?” Despite your attempt at authority, your voice cracked, revealing your weak resolution.

Crosshair looked down, a soft chuckle escaping him. He gently turned you back around by the waist and nudged you deeper into the ship. “Your fault,” he crooned, his voice low and teasing.

Your heart skipped despite your frustration. You craned your neck to look up at him, demanding an explanation, “Tell me how.”

“I don’t think I will,” he replied, the hint of a smile still in his voice, leaving the words hanging between you like a challenge.

[chairofchaos]

When the Blood Burns

Blood (Part 1)

Burns (Part 2)

Pairing: Azriel x Eris

Summary: Azriel and Eris find themselves drawn together during the first war with Hybern. (Requested here)

Rating: Explicit (see warnings- I mean it. I can give details in DMs if you want specifics before reading)

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: violence, homophobia/homophobic violence (if you want details my DMs are open), graphic depictions of wounds and wound care with a very rudimentary understanding of the subject, alcohol use, and much less important than the others but still concerning: unedited.

A/N: Shoutout to @tsunami-of-tears for once again providing me with the perfect divider for this fic. Shoutout to @unanswered-stars forgiving me permission to do whatever I want with this request. And please know I tried to make it short. But now it's almost 10k so this is part 1 of 2. Maybe 3.

Their first meeting was unremarkable. Azriel, blinded with rage over Eris’ rejection of Mor and the ensuing pain it had caused his family, thought nothing of the young lord other than how callous he had been, and avoided him under the orders of his High Lord.

So the first time they had truly met was in a war tent five years and seven months into the war with Hybern. Eris stood with his elder brother behind Beron’s seat at the round table. Rhys and Azriel stood shoulder to shoulder behind Rhys’ father. When the High Lords had dismissed their advisors for a recess in planning, somehow only Eris and Azriel found themselves walking outside. 

They were silent. Azriel scanned the passing troops for any sign of Cassian. It had been three weeks since either he or Rhys had seen him, but there was a chance, stationed here near the western battle grounds, that they would encounter him. Still, even Azriel’s shadows hadn’t been able to locate his brother. 

The shadows' presence was thin. There were only so many he could task, only so many he could control. Only a fraction of his usual cloud of shades stayed with him. Still, they whispered to him. 

“The Autumn lord watches you,” they hissed. They seemed less concerned than intrigued. It wasn’t often people stared directly at him, and yet when Azriel turned his head, the lordling was staring, openly and with no concern.

“Can I help you?”

Eris shrugged evenly. His face was impassive, but he either didn’t know or didn’t care Azriel would notice the shuffle of his feet. “No.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “And yet, you have something you want to say.”

Eris’ lips pinched, his eyes darting to the tent entrance. “You have less shadows this time.”

“Yes.”

Eris waited, but Azriel was more patient and well aware that the Lord just wanted him to speak. Finally, Eris sighed. “Are you… well?”

Well? Azriel was… oh. He dared a glare. The lord was nosy. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“You have less shadows. That isn’t a symptom of something being wrong?”

“No. It’s a symptom of being at war.”

“Ah,” the lord breathed. “That’s… good.”

Azriel didn't bother to respond before he turned and walked back into the tent. Such an odd male.

Two months passed before they crossed paths again. Azriel had shadow-walked to take a message from his High Lord to the High Lord of Winter. Rhys had been sent away as well. There was little to lure him back, so he would take advantage of the distance between the two encampments to take a night away. It was already after dark. He could safely return in the morning with no one noticing.

Once he retrieved the paper with the instructions, he walked the encampment shrouded in shadows. Here, Winter and Autumn soldiers did not mingle. In fact, the road Azriel walked through the camp was so stark a dividing line he found himself all alone. Except…

“Oof!”

A figure had darted awkwardly from behind a Winter tent. They were looking over their shoulder, and had plowed straight into Azriel. 

Azriel snarled, wings flaring behind him to keep himself righted as the figure fell at his feet.

“Watch where you’re going,” he growled, stepping back. His hand instinctively rested on Truth Teller’s handle while he glared at the figure. The road was so dark he couldn’t even see the insignia on the soldier’s tunic.

“I- My apologies.” It took Azriel the time it took for the male to scramble to his feet to place the voice.

“Vanserra?”

“Shadowsinger,” was the response. It was curt in a way Eris’ attempts at conversation hadn’t been previously. Yet this time, Azriel’s shadows said nothing.

“You really should watch where you’re going.”

“I know,” Eris snapped.

“Snippy tonight, aren’t we?” He had been moving quickly, and yet was no longer rushing. It was odd enough for Azriel to order shadows to examine him. It was dark, so it was easy for them to go unnoticed. 

“Do I owe you courtesy?” was the bitter response.

“You crashed into me.” His shadows slithered about his ears, talking over one another.

“And I apologized.”

It was then that the shadows’ one-word report made sense. Blood. There was blood gushing from the male’s body. When he paused, Azriel could smell the metallic tang from Eris’ general direction, distinct from the days old blood scent of the camp around them. It was enough to send his shadows into a vague fury, as if they couldn’t decide whether this was something to be concerned about given who the male in question was. 

Eris waited, standing there in complete stillness. 

“You’re injured,” Azriel finally settled on. 

Eris snorted. “And? So is everyone.”

“It isn’t a war wound. This camp has not seen battle in over a week and that wound is fresh.”

“Does it matter?” Eris snapped. “I don’t know why you bother to bring it up at all.”

Azriel took a deep breath. “Because if you’re fighting next to my brother your injury could get him killed. I know you haven’t seen much battle, but from what I’ve heard your father is doing everything he can to keep you on the front lines to get you killed. I’d rather not give him the satisfaction if it means my brother dies.”

Autumn and Night court soldiers had been fighting alongside each other frequently. With Winter replacing Night Court forces in this camp, chances were dwindling, but it wasn’t a risk Azriel was willing to take.

Eris tried a new tactic: complete silence. Still, Azriel saw his silhouette cross his arms defensively. It was a bad move. His hands were pinned where they were, and he was already off balance. Azriel took the opportunity to reach a hand out and shove the male’s shoulder with a moderate amount of force.

Eris’ sharp intake of breath gave Azriel more pause than he expected. “I’ll tend your wound,” Azriel said gruffly. “I refuse to let you get killed over some stupid fight with a soldier from another court.”

Still, Eris didn’t move. 

“You can walk, can’t you? You were doing fine when you ran into me.”

“I’m fine,” Eris bit out. “Leave.”

Azriel snorted. Now he definitely wouldn’t leave the male alone. “No. You’re in more danger like that than you know.”

“And what would you know of it?” Eris all but hissed at him, arms uncrossing to clench against his sides. “You don’t scare me.”

“I should,” Azriel snapped back. “I should terrify you. I could have killed you about thirty different ways in the course of this conversation.”

“You’re not touching my– wound.” Eris’ voice broke. 

“You aren’t tending it yourself.”

“I’ll go to a healer.”

“No,” Azriel shook his head. “You won’t. Because if your father finds out he’ll use it to his advantage. Why does he hate you so much?”

“I can handle it myself,” Eris’ voice was losing all conviction and confidence. 

“No.”

“Leave.”

“I trust you know somewhere safe enough. I’ll get the supplies and meet you there. A shadow will tell me where you end up, or I can winnow us there.”

That seemed to give Eris pause. “I thought shadowsingers did something called shadow-walking.”

Azriel balked. It was rare anyone bothered to know the difference, let alone remark on it. He nodded, then remembered the male likely couldn’t see him. He cleared his throat before saying, “Yes.”

“Can we shadow-walk?” Now, the lord just sounded tired.

“Yes. Where are we going?”

“North of camp, there’s a glade.”

“It’s safe?”

“Yes.” Eris reached his right hand out.

Azriel gripped the male’s wrist roughly with his own right hand, binding their hands together with shadows who seemed all too eager. “Don’t let go,” he warned. 

“I won’t.”

A blink and a breath of complete darkness followed before they arrived in the clearing, which Azriel’s shadows had found quickly. A small fire was reduced near to ashes in the center of the glade, but it was more light than the road had held. Eris moved to drop Azriel’s hand, but the shadowsinger shook his head, motioning for the lord to stay silent and wait.

The shadows not binding them together scattered, darting around the trees at the outskirts and winding back to Azriel once they had cleared the area and confirmed its safety. “Safe. Safe. Safe,” was their chorus, one after the other. 

When Azriel was satisfied, he sent a third of them for supplies, tasking another third to unroll the lord’s bedroll, which they had found tucked in an oak, next to the fire. Dropping Eris’ hand, he crossed to a small pile of wood at the edge of the glade and collected half of it to bank the fire. Eris stayed where he was, watching silently. 

“Come sit,” Azriel ordered, pointing to the bedroll as he squatted to blow at the cinders and coals and encourage what little flame was left to grow, to light the new wood and give them more light and heat. Eris made no move to help him, so Azriel didn’t bother to ask. 

With the increasing light, Azriel could see the dark gleaming of what had to be blood down Eris’ thigh as he walked. There was a lot. The side of his leg was saturated to the top of his boot, while the wound seemed to originate near his hip bone. It had to be nasty for Eris to be bleeding that much. That explained why he hadn’t offered to help with the fire, or, better yet, to feed the fire himself with his power. Yet, he walked. 

That took strength. Azriel almost found it in himself to be impressed as the male lowered himself gracefully to the ground. 

His shadows had begun piling bandages and other important things by Azriel’s side. He sent one of them off in pursuit of a new pair of pants for the lord, who wouldn’t be wearing this pair again without an excellent laundress, and those who could keep secrets were in short supply in a war camp when information was money.

“Take your pants off,” Azriel commanded. Eris winced.

“I’m not sure I can.”

“I'll have to cut them off.”

Eris hesitated, his eyes darting to Truth Teller. “Be careful.”

How badly hurt was he, that he would allow Azriel to have a knife that close to his skin, to vital blood supply? 

As the light increased, so did Azriel’s concern that the male’s condition may not be as stable as he originally thought. His skin seemed to pale more and more with every flare of the fire. Sweat dripped from his brow, despite the chilly night around them. And he was obedient. Vanserras, in Azriel's admittedly limited experience, were never obedient. Certainly not to orders given from a Night Court grunt.

As if they sensed his growing concern, shadows dispatched to scan the male again. They returned with whispers of blood and wounds– multiple. Azriel nearly sighed. This was perhaps a bigger job than he anticipated. He sent shadows now to retrieve his own bedroll and bag. He’d be damned if the last thing anyone saw before the autumn lord died was the two of them together, and there was no real way to guarantee he hadn’t been seen with Eris on that road. Damn it all.

“How many wounds are there?” he asked, unsheathing Truth-Teller and setting the supplies beside Eris.

“Just the one.”

“Don’t lie to me. If you die, it’s my wings they’ll come after.”

Eris glanced over Azriel’s shoulder at the reddish membranes which were his constant companion, his pride and joy.

“Three.”

“Only three?”

“Only three,” Eris confirmed.

“Where?”

Eris gestured at his right shoulder, waved a hand over his injured leg, and then looked away.

“That’s two,” Azriel commented. “You’re going to need to take that tunic off, too, but let’s start with your leg.”

Eris laid back. Azriel reached into his boot to retrieve a flask and offer it up. “Whiskey. It’ll take the sting off.”

Eris grimaced, but took the flask anyways, draining what was left of the alcohol from it before handing it back. 

Azriel knelt at his side, the fire on Eris’ other side giving him light to work. Truth Teller made quick work of a cut through Eris’ pants from ankle to waist, and Azriel sheathed the blade quickly. When he removed the fabric a barrier which had begun to form to protect the wound would be removed, and he needed to know everything he could before that happened.

“What blade was used?”

Eris blinked at him slowly. He was fading, fast. “A dagger.”

“Was it poisoned?”

“No,” Eris shook his head with conviction.

“Was there anything special about the blade?”

“Standard Winter court issue,” he said. 

Azriel nodded. “Alright. This is going to hurt.”

Eris paused, looking at Azriel, then turning his head to the fire. Azriel barely heard the quiet “I know” which followed.

Azriel pulled the fabric of the male’s pants away from him and grimaced. Eris didn't even flinch. The cut went across the male’s hipbone nearly twelve inches to the outside of his upper thigh, getting deeper as if Eris had rolled into the knife to protect his midline.

“Tell me what happened,” Azriel ordered as his hands began to move. Damn it all, they were cold. And tired. He was so tired. But he couldn’t let Eris die. For some reason, he needed the male to live.

“No.” Eris countered with a fire he hadn’t shown all evening. It was the first anger Azriel had heard from the male, and it awoke something in him. He dumped three antiseptic potions across the wound. Eris barely moved, blinking up at the stars.

“You could die,” Azriel snarled, pressing bandages against the seeping wound. “Why? You are the son of a high lord. If it was a standard issue Winter court blade it likely wasn't anybody of your status. Why protect them?”

Eris bit his lower lip. Azriel pulled Truth Teller out to cut through what was left of the male’s pants and underwear and remove them. A long strip of fabric wound around the male’s waist, then around his upper thigh, to secure the padding of bandages against the long wound. When Azriel was certain the bands wouldn’t move, he tied them off in a quick knot and looked up at the lord’s face. 

His eyes were closed, his face turned slightly toward the fire. He looked slightly flushed, and yet entirely too pale. His breathing was shallow. He needed water. Food, too. He didn’t seem to be interested in answering any more questions. Maybe those things would loosen his lips.

First, the other wounds. The removal of all his clothing revealed a gash along his shoulder, about four inches long. It wasn’t deep, but it was angled, and the skin could be folded back away from the wound. Azriel stitched that one with quick stitches. He would have stitched the large one, but without any indication that it wouldn’t get infected, he was unsure about closing it with the sutures which would solidify by the time the horizon had light on it. An infection growing beneath the skin was much worse than a scar from skin knitting itself back together.

The last wound didn’t immediately present itself, so Azriel had nudged Eris until he grudgingly rolled onto his side.

His bare back was a maze of scars. Azriel was struck immediately by how well his hands blended with the mottled skin of Eris’ back, burns seemingly crisscrossed by the stripes of what had to have been made by a very long, thick whip. It turned his stomach to see just how broken the male’s back was. They weren’t that different in age, and Azriel had his fair share of scars. But this was a level of brutality Azriel hadn’t expected to find carved into the male’s skin. It was no doubt he hadn’t flinched at the stitches, or even the bandaging. He had to be intimately familiar with both.

One wound on his back, a long stripe across his shoulder blade, was red and struggling to close. Azriel stitched that closed, too, before throwing the bandages he had used to wipe the male’s blood away into the fire. Seeming to know it was over, Eris rolled back onto his back. He didn’t open his eyes, but his breathing seemed slightly steadier.

Azriel grabbed his bag from where the shadows had dumped it unceremoniously behind him and retrieved a tin of dried meat and crackers.

“Eat,” he ordered, setting the tin on Vanserra's stomach. “I’m getting us water.”

Eris cracked an eye open to stare at him. “Fine.”

Azriel ordered some shadows to scout ahead for water, and some to watch over the lordling, as he unrolled his own bedroll next to Eris. Better to have the fire lord between him and the fire, he told himself.

His shadows returned with a satisfactory report, so he went when he was certain Eris would eat more than a bite or two.

On his return, the container sat on his bedroll, half the food gone.

“You should eat more,” Azriel said, nudging it towards him. 

Eris shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“Drink, then,” he tried. Eris nodded, reaching a reluctant hand to grip the offered bottle.

He propped himself up on an elbow to drink, and swallowed until he finished the whole bottle with a gasp. “Thank you.”

Azriel nodded. He felt as though he hovered over the lord, but he found himself unsettled. “I’ll take the watch.”

Eris didn’t argue or say they didn’t need one. It would have been a lie neither of them would have accepted. He just nodded, dropping his head back and closing his eyes again.

Azriel didn’t bother to wake him through the rest of the night. When light began to peek over the horizon, Eris stirred on his own, sitting up with a groan and a stretch. 

“Thank you,” he said again. 

Azriel nodded. “I need to check your–”

“No,” Eris said abruptly, sitting. “Enough. I will go back to camp, and so should you.”

Azriel shook his head. “You can’t fight like this.”

Eris smirked up at him. “I’ve done it before.”

“You’re going to get yourself killed,” Azriel narrowed his eyes.

Eris shrugged, shuffling awkwardly until he was on his feet, even though he panted. “That’s fine.”

“I just spent last night putting you back together. If I hear you undo that work, I’ll kill you,” Azriel protested. Eris seemed to soften at that. “I think you should go.”

Azriel bristled even as his shadows obeyed his silent order to retrieve all his things. “Fine.”

“I’ll burn away any trace of you being here,” Eris assured him, waving a hand at his bedroll. It disappeared.

Azriel nodded. “Check those wounds this morning.”

Eris nodded. “I will.”

When Azriel had his bag and bedroll in hand, he shadow-walked away, Eris not sparing him more than a moment’s glance as he disappeared from view.

Their third meeting was much like the first. Outside a war tent, the Autumn court delegation lingered in hushed circles. Their forces had been hit hard in the last of Hybern’s offensives. No doubt they were reconsidering their participation in the ongoing war, if only to save the rest of their soldiers. Still, from the thick of the fray strode Eris Vanserra, his gait no less even than it had been the first times Azriel had seen him.

Azriel couldn’t help but watch him as he stood outside the tent. They had tightened the circle allowed in. The recent losses had been too stark to eliminate the possibility that someone on the council or one of their advisors was selling information or even was an agent of Hybern. It was no doubt that fact which kept the sons close, and everyone else at a very great distance. Still, Azriel could watch from here. Could keep an eye out for either of his brothers. 

Shadows told him nothing of them. Their names were not on the rolls. But here was Eris. Alive, breathing. He would have known if Eris had died. And Eris had not.

“Shadowsinger,” a curt acknowledgement. Azriel nodded firmly in return. No words could explain his relief, even to himself. Eris rolled his shoulders, his embroidered coat restricting his motions. Instead of walking past Azriel, the lord stopped at his side.

“Thank you,” Eris murmured. If Azriel hadn’t been attuned to the male's presence, he wouldn’t have heard it at all. It was dangerous to speak this openly. Eris had to know that. Surely, a High Lord’s son would know that speaking to the spymaster of another court was dangerous. Surely.

Azriel turned to walk away. He would not risk it, but Eris still tried. “Azriel.”

He spun to face Eris, schooling his face into an angry mask. “What?”

Eris’ eyes flashed with an answering anger, then cooled. “I saw your brother. The soldier.”

This was unexpected. Azriel’s eyes narrowed. How would Eris know he searched for his brothers?

As if anticipating the question, Eris stepped closer. “Your shadows, the ones who stayed, told me. I asked them how I could… repay you. They told me. He’s in the next camp over. Injured, but not badly. Ask for Madja.”

Shadows zipped away from Azriel faster than he could respond. He had left some of them with Eris that morning to ensure the male checked and cleaned his wounds.

Now, Eris watched them go, nodding once, then walking on past Azriel. Eris knew what it meant to see those shadows go out. It was all he had needed to see. 

Azriel may not be able to get away on his own, but he could send those shadows. They would find Cassian, who would recognize them and maybe even be able to get away for a day. 

More pressing was that the shadows had spoken to Eris. Had deemed him worthy of information about Azriel. That happened so rarely. Only when Azriel was truly in need of something, or on the rarest of occasions, when he was in true danger, would his shadows bother to try to communicate with anyone. Never before had they shared with someone as nonsensical as Eris Vanserra. He would ask them later why. He hoped they would tell him.

Someone was calling his name. It was the middle of the night, and his shadows were rousing him from sleep with a frantic energy. Months had passed since he had seen Cassian, or Rhys. He had only just gotten back from a scouting mission in Hybern that evening. The war still raged, still slowly marching them all toward death. 

But someone was calling his name. “Hurry,” his shadows urged him. “Fight.” 

The second prompt was enough to speed him. He rarely slept without weapons at hand, and he grabbed two Illyrian blades and strapped them to his back with the speed of a soldier who had been at war for over six years. 

Finally ready, he ordered his shadows to take him where they willed. Emerging from their total darkness into the moonless night with Truth Teller clenched in his hand, he found himself at the edge of that familiar glade. 

This time, it was anything but peaceful. Eris fought against three warriors dressed in dark clothes, their faces concealed by darkness. Azriel recognized the fighting style more than the clothing, and it was for good reason Eris didn’t bother to use his powers. 

In a split second, Azriel shadow-walked to be behind the Autumn court soldiers, disarming one with ease while Eris held his own against the second. Azriel’s blade slid into the side of the throat and was pulled through the front, removing the attacker’s ability to scream as his life faded to a bloody end. 

The third spun from Eris to Azriel. He opened his mouth, but behind him, Eris flicked a dagger from his waist, the blade glinting before Azriel saw the male’s head jerk forward. When he fell, the handle of the blade stuck at a perfect right angle from the base of the male’s skull.

As Azriel had drawn Eris’ attention, his moment’s glance to throw the blade had left his left side unguarded. The remaining autumn warrior took advantage of the opening, and launched himself at the lord. His hand closed around the lord’s throat, and Eris was knocked toward Azriel, but Azriel was faster than the other warrior had perhaps anticipated.

In the span of moments, Azriel had removed the male’s hand from Eris’ throat, disarmed him, and bound him hand and feet with a cord he kept coiled in his boot for moments like this. His shadows had been dispatched to guard the borders of the glade.

Eris rubbed his neck as he offered a wad of cloth to Azriel, who crouched beside the bound warrior. Azriel took the fabric and shoved it into his mouth until he was satisfied the male wouldn’t be able to remove it.

“You need to kill him,” Eris said quietly. 

“I know,” Azriel said. The male’s eyes settled on Azriel as if he had only just now recognized the winged warrior. He began to scream through the fabric. Azriel’s remaining shadows spun around the warrior, examining him.

“Why do you scream?” Eris asked, crouching beside Azriel. “You chose to attack me. Your death was predetermined.”

The male’s eyes flicked to Azriel, then back to Eris, then back to Azriel again as his screaming increased in volume.

Eris snorted. “You truly think the death he will give you is worse than the death I could?”

Azriel couldn’t help but watch the Lord of Autumn as Eris stood. 

“A word, Azriel.” Eris looked down his nose at the screaming soldier. Azriel stood. They walked some distance away before Eris paused and looked over his shoulder at their prisoner.

“We have to kill him,” Eris said. “He recognized you.”

“That’s not surprising,” Azriel said. “Why did they come after you in the first place?”

Eris sighed. “I did something I shouldn’t have, and got caught doing it. Whether my father sent them or they took it upon themselves, I don’t know.”

Azriel paused. “What, exactly, were you doing?” If Eris was spying for Hybern, if he had used Azriel somehow…

Eris sighed. “I slept with one of their brothers.”

Oh. Oh. Prythian was generally safe for males like Eris. And Azriel. But some families held old ways of thinking that would incense hatred beyond caring that Eris was the son of a High Lord. It was that which kept Azriel hiding. He lacked the protection offered to Eris. Currently, he lacked even the protection of his brothers. 

So Azriel just nodded. When Azriel didn’t say anything, Eris sighed.

“How did you come here?”

“My shadows sent me. They were concerned.”

“Have they been watching me?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel admitted. “Sometimes they follow their own whims.”

Eris nodded. “I can handle him.”

“Do you want to?” What was one more body on Azriel’s tally? He’d killed nearly thirty yesterday, getting away from the Hybern guard who had started asking too many of the right questions. What was one more, in the face of the river of blood which had flowed from his hands?

“Not really,” Eris sighed. 

“You sound weary,” Azriel dared. After six years he was more than used to the ebb and flow of fights and battles, yet his heart still pounded in his chest.

“I am.”

“I’ll do it. Stay here.”

Eris said nothing in return but bowed his head.

Azriel crossed back to the bound warrior, who had started trying to roll and scramble away from them with whatever faculty he retained. Azriel placed a booted heel against the man’s collarbone, his toes grounded to the earth as he stood above the male.

“I’m going to take out the gag. Then you’re going to tell me who sent you, and what they wanted. If you don’t, I’ll torture you. This is your one chance. Do you understand?”

The male nodded, eyes glinting with starlight and terror. Azriel bent to remove the gag, whispering, “Scream, and I’ll gag you with something much more unpleasant than this fabric.”

He ripped it from the male’s mouth, and to his credit, the male said nothing.

“Who sent you?”

“No one. We came with him,” the male tipped his head at one of the bodies. “His brother died, and when they found his body on the battlefield, that bastard’s scent was all over him.”

“Eris’?” Azriel questioned. 

The male nodded. “They were… intimate.” He said it with a snarl, as though Azriel would not know and was being deceived. 

“You wanted to kill him.”

“Yes. For that, yes. It’s not–”

“Enough,” Eris’ voice sounded behind Azriel.

Azriel glared at him. “If it’s enough, kill him yourself.”

Eris shrugged. “Fine.”

The male opened his mouth to start screaming again, but Eris flicked his slender fingers. Azriel stepped back quickly as a reddish glow started emanating from the male’s throat and smoke began to billow from his mouth. 

Eris was burning him. Burning him from the inside out. The light of life in the male’s eyes was steadily replaced by the glow of that slow burning fire until the male was nothing more than ash in the wind.

Eris turned to Azriel. “Thank you for coming.”

Azriel nodded. Why was he so hesitant to leave? The second the male was dead, he should have walked away. Dawn was nearing again. He would need to be back before the High Lord woke in case he had further questions after last night’s debrief. Six years and ten months of this. Azriel wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

“Thank you for finding Cassian for me.” 

Eris smiled at that, not even looking as he lit the other two bodies on fire. “You saved my life.”

“You gave me the chance to see him. It had been a long time. It means more than I think you realize.”

Eris shook his head. “I imagine if I had a brother I trusted I would do just about anything in my power to see him.”

Azriel chuckled at that. “No friends among family?”

Eris sighed ruefully. “I’m afraid not.”

“Me neither. Except–”

They finished the sentence together, “my mother.”

“If you didn’t send for me,” Azriel crossed his arms, “Why did you trust I wasn’t there with them?”

Eris tipped his head back to stare at the sky. “My father has railed against your… proclivities in sexual partners. How he knew, I have no idea. I’ve never even heard whispers of you from anywhere else. I knew, if my father was somehow right, your presence was either on orders or to help me. I was willing to bet you wouldn’t kill me for something we share.”

“Beron knows about me?”

“Somehow. I think he had someone tailing you for a time, after Mor.”

Azriel bristled. He had been careful at 19, but apparently not careful enough. It was likely the best explanation. “You have no idea? Truly?”

Eris shrugs. “I was young when he brought it up. The timing seems right. I never put much thought into it.”

“So you assumed I was safe because of that.”

“No,” Eris laughed, quietly, but unmistakably amused. “No, I mostly assumed you were safe because the last time you saved my life you told me not to undo all of your hard work.”

“What happened then?” Azriel was demanding. He felt as though he was truly seeing the Autumn Lord, seeing him open and unguarded for the first time. Maybe now he could get answers.

Eris seemed to be willing to indulge him. “A winter court soldier didn’t realize who I was until I was on my way out of his tent. He tried to kill me.”

“It seems to me like you’re sleeping with the wrong people,” Azriel commented. Eris finally turned to face him, levelling him with a molten stare Azriel found himself drawn into. “And who are the right people?”

“People who have as much to lose as you do.”

“Like you?” Eris challenged. 

Azriel shrugged. “Are you offering?”

Eris smirked, turning to face Azriel. Dawn was growing, and the red light of morning lighting the leaves around him gave him the appearance of a body of molten fire. “If you ever wish to take me to bed, Shadowsinger, show up. I have spells on the glade. It will let me know you’re here.”

Azriel laughed. “Chances are slim, Vanserra.”

“But not zero.” Eris raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms in a slightly mocking reflection of Azriel’s own stance. 

“No.” Azriel admitted. “Not zero.”

[ladystoneboobs]

westerosi ruling ladies/acknowledged heiresses outside of dorne, listed by region:

the north

lady jonelle cerwyn, lady of castle cerwyn after the murder of her younger brother, lord cley cerwyn, by ramsay snow. (cley did not long outlive their father, lord medger cerwyn, who died of his wounds as a pow at harrenhal, after fighting in roose bolton's host when tywin lannister defeated them on the green fork.) we first hear of lady jonelle when robb stark calls his banners and lord cerwyn means to bring his old maid daughter with him, and the next we hear of her is when asha greyjoy gets her letter from ramsay, co-signed by a lady cerwyn and lady dustin, among the other northern lords in the bolton camp. cerwyn men-at-arms and the cerwyn maester are noted with roose at wf, and presumably if their lady did go south with her father, she must have returned north in roose bolton's party.

lady barbrey ryswell dustin, widow of the late lord willam dustin, apparently the last of his line since no surviving male dustins are ever mentioned. the widow of barrowton rules in his place for the remainder of her lifetime, and (unlike poor lady hornwood) rules with power uncontested, as barrowton's closest neighbors are the ryswells, also her closest kin, father and brothers. however, without any children from the late lord dustin, unclear what would happen after lady barbrey dies.

lady lyessa flint, head of the branch of house flint of widow's watch. lady flint's son, robin flint, led their forces in robb stark's army and died with the king at the red wedding, but was not the head of house. lady flint is listed such in the appendices, and was said to be pregnant in acok, meaning she likely had a living husband at the time, but he goes unnamed as only her consort.

lady alys karstark, heir to her eldest brother harrion karstark of karhold (whose location and current status is unclear after being captured by the lannisters a 2nd time), following the deaths of their brothers in the battle of the whispering wood, and the execution of their father by king robb as a murderer and traitor. at jon snow's instigation she has taken sigorn, magnar of thenn, as her consort.

lady wynafryd manderly, elder granddaughter of lord wyman manderly, by his son and heir ser wylis. should be the next heir to white harbor after her father, unless her parents should produce a son.

lady maege mormont of bear island, the only ruling lady listed here to also have a daughter as her heir. first this was dacey mormont, but after her murder at the red wedding, the new heir is second daughter alysanne aka aly the she-bear. but since aly told asha greyjoy she had a son as well as a daughter back home, that means there likely won't be a 3rd ruling lady in a row, as the mormonts may have a history of women warriors, but there's no sign they don't still practice male-preference primogeniture when there is a son to inherit. where the mormonts do step out of northern convention, however, is the ruling ladies fucking whoever they want without feeling the need for a husband and still naming their fatherless children mormonts, not snows, a practice rhaenyra targaryen would surely envy.

lady eddara tallhart, an heiress and then nominal ruler of torrhen's square, before the age of 10, after her elder brother benfred was killed by theon greyjoy's ironmen and then their father ser helman was killed when roose bolton sent him into an ambush at duskendale. listed as still a captive inside her family's seat, besieged by dagmer cleftjaw again, in the adwd appendix.

the riverlands

lady barbara bracken, eldest daughter of lord jonos bracken of stone hedge, who has multiple daughters by two of his three different wives, but no surviving sons.

lady amarei frey lannister, married to lancel lannister at castle darry as a granddaughter of a previous lord darry, then left to rule on her own after lancel abandoned her and repudiated their unconsummated marriage

lady eleanor mooton, eldest daughter of lord william mooton of maidenpool, listed as his heir in adwd appendix, at the time of her marriage to dickon tarly. (meaning presumably his sons mentioned in acok died during the war.)

lady carellen smallwood, (likely?) heir to acorn hall as the only known surviving child of lord and lady smallwood, whose only known son died years before.

lady liane vance, eldest daughter of lord karyl vance of house vance of wayfarer's rest, listed as his heir in the affc appendix

lady shella whent, last of the line of the whents of harrenhal, disposessed by tywin lannister, and allegedly dead by the time of affc, according to littlefinger. text is somewhat inconsistent on whether she or her husband inherited harrenhal, just as it's unknown what happened to all their children if they were the same whents hosting the tourney at harrenhal years before, nor even how they were related to minisa whent tully, the late lady of riverrun.

the vale

chella, daughter of cheyk, clan chief of the black ears

lady anya waynwood, lady of ironoaks, an older lady with multiple sons and grandsons still ruling in her own name, a formidable power in the vale, perhaps second only to the main branch of house royce as chief bannermen of house arryn

the westerlands

cersei lannister, lady of casterly rock as well as queen regent, following her father, lord tywin lannister, being murdered by her younger brother tyrion, an attainted traitor and fugitive, with her twin brother, jaime, unable to inherit as a knight of the kingsguard

lady alysanne lefford, lady of the golden tooth after lord leo lefford drowned in the battle of the fords against edmure tully's army. (whether the previous lord was her father, brother, or even uncle or cousin is unknown, all we know of her is her entry in the affc/adwd appendices after lord lefford's death in asos)

the reach

lady alysanne bulwer, the lady of blackcrown as the only known child of the late lord jon bulwer, frequently referred to as lady bulwer. (lady fatherslastname not being a style otherwise used with a lord's unmarried daughters, lady housesurname usually referring to a lord's wife using her husband's name). there is an inconsistency with taena merryweather telling cersei that there was talk of megga tyrell being betrothed to lady bulwer's brother (which a nondornish heiress cannot have and is not listed in any appendix), but this is either a mistake by grrm or misunderstanding by taena unless she's referring to an unknown brother of alysanne bulwer's mother, the last lady bulwer. (i'm taking multiple mentions of her as lady bulwer in sansa's pov over any gossip from taena.)

lady arwyn oakheart, lady of old oak, a widow with multiple grown sons who commanded her own forces in renly baratheon's army, even if she did not mean to fight on the field.

the crownlands

lady ermesand hayford, the last of the hayford line, a babe ruling in name only, married to the squire tyrek lannister before she was weaned, a husband now missing since his disappearence during the riot in kl on the day of princess myrcella's departure

the ladies tanda, falyse and lollys stokeworth, three would-be rulers of castle stokeworth dispossessed by the schemes of queen cersei and ser bronn of the blackwater. lady tanda ruled for years with falyse as her heir and younger daughter lollys as the only heir to the barren falyse, until such time as lollys was wed to bronn and lady tanda took a griveous fall from a horse. bronn started calling himself lord stokeworth when tanda and falyse were still alive, chasing off falyse after her husband attempted to kill him at cersei's behest. falyse died painfully in qyburn's dungeons, while tanda was left to die at castle stokeworth, making lollys even more a ruler in name only than baby lady hayford, as her husband is inside the castle with men loyal only to him, not to any stokeworth lady.

the stormlands

lady brienne of tarth, heir to lord selwyn tarth the evenstar as his only surviving child

lady mary mertyns, listed as lady of the mistwood in the adwd appendix

you'll notice the iron islands is the only (nondornish) region missing here. ofc they did have a possible heiress to pyke and all the isles but then asha greyjoy was soundly rejected as such at the kingsmoot after balon's death. the lack of other present-tl ruling ladies/acknowledged heirs afab may be down to this being the smallest region, aside from the crownlands. however, there are no historical ruling ladies in their section of the world book either, iirc.

AND there is another case of a possible heiress, again meaning asha, wrt harlaw. her uncle lord rodrik harlaw tried to dissaude her from the kingsmoot by offering to name her heir to his castle, while allowing a cousin to inherit all his other titles and power over the whole island of harlaw. but shouldn't asha have already been in line for all the harlaw lands and titles, above all the harlaw cousins? her aunt gwynesse's complaint of being the true heir as rodrik's elder sister may not work outside of dorne, but even on the nondornish mainland, a lord's sister (and therefore their children, ie asha) still come before a lord's uncles and cousins. isn't that the whole point of alys karstark's plight, that her older cousin had to marry her to try to claim her birthright? so the harlaw line of succession should go rodrik>gwynesse>alannys>asha before any cousins come into it.

that this would not be the case and that asha is only presented with the option of being lady of ten towers by doing homage to a cousin as her overlord for the whole island of harlaw suggests imo that the islands are particularly resistant to a woman as head of house, with all male kin following her in place of a patriarch. women may serve as castle stewards and the right sort may prove themselves as captains (not common, but not too rare either) but ruling on land, ruling over male kin, and fellow captains is a different matter. perhaps not too surprising from a people whose religon sees rape of foreign women as a key and holy part of their way of life. an ironwoman may not disapprove of her men doing so, but cannot fully participate without the cock to forcibly spread seed across the world. how can a captain who cannot fully perform manhood as the drowned god proscribes for his captains be rock king over any island, let alone all of them? in this light, balon's choice of asha as heir is even more radical, though likely it came not from a view of equality between the sexes but from a feeling that his own daughter was the very much singular special exception, more a son than greendlandized theon.

[gazagfmboost]

Mahmoud Mousa (33), wife Hadeel (27) & two sons; Mohammed (3), & Adam (2)

Vetting: IG content going back to 2020 Personal IG Video #1 & Personal IG Video #2 Instagram: e7saswafa & e7s0s Fund Currency: € Euro

Mahmoud, age 33, & his beloved wife Hadeel, age 27, have reached out to me in hopes of having their story shared- after their home was destroyed & finding no safety in the displacement camps in the south of Gaza they've been trying to evacuate their two young children. I hope that you will please consider sparing any small sum to help 2 year old Adam & 3 year old Mohammed get across the rafah crossing to safety when it opens, if possible. "The daily struggle to find food, diapers and basic hygiene supplies has become an increasing challenge. We hesitated to ask for help, but the reality is stark: Rafah is no longer safe, and basic necessities are scarce. The emotional toll is immense, and reconstruction seems impossible. We had no choice but to ask for your help."

*Update- They're being displaced from khan younis, this is their 8th displacement :( This is absolutely unreasonable, Mahmoud has requested help with securing a tent to stay in when they find a new location to try to settle down, I invite you to please consider contributing any small ammount to his goal if at all possible or, to press the heart button & re-share to help this sweet family feel seen & heard during this terrifying conflict. Thank you very much for your time & care <3

Help the Mousa Family Get to Safety’ gofund.me/4151df0b

[space-mermaid-writing]

Fangs and Fur [NSFW IronStrange]

Summary: For their camping trip Tony takes Stephen to his lake cabin. Things get heated when Tony brings freshly hunted dinner home.

Tags: Vampire Stephen Strange, Werewolf Tony Stark, porn with plot, there’s some plot if you squint, porn with feelings, established relationship, Top Tony Stark, Bottom Stephen Strange, not vegan friendly, blood play, but not the way you think, they just eat a deer, smut, ass eating, rimming, anal fingering, anal sex, pure filth, I’m going to wash my eyes with soap now, thank you and good night

Author's note: Research told me Tony’s lake cabin is in Fairburn, Georgia. That doesn’t work with this story. So, I relocated it. This is 18+. Read at your own risk. Beta by @harpywritesfic <3

 Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Word count: 2.8k

Fangs and Fur

In the tranquil embrace of a secluded lake, a wolf emerged from the dense undergrowth; its amber eyes scanning the surroundings with a predatory intensity. Its brown and gray coat rippled with each movement as it loped along the water's edge.

Tony enjoyed spending time in the forest around the lake. The scenery was beautiful and secluded. And most importantly, it was private property.

Ever since their trip to Ural he had become... not paranoid, but it was close enough.

That was why he had taken Stephen here. The cabin was monitored by Jarvis and while there was no fence around the perimeter of the property, Tony had taken his own security measures.

The midwest, where his lake cabin was located, was in truth too warm and too sunny for any vampire during the summer, but Tony wouldn't take him into unknown territory again; even if the weather was more vampire friendly elsewhere.

His cabin had air-conditioning and the sunlight was blocked out during the day. The nights were actually doable for Stephen to step out at this time of the year.

They were still figuring out a sleep schedule that worked for both of them. Vampires didn’t have to sleep per se and since Tony installed UV filtering windows in every single building he owned, Stephen was often found up and awake during the day.

As long as he stayed indoors, he was fine.

The wolf's keen senses detected the faintest of sounds, his ears twitching as he caught the distant rustling of leaves. For a moment he went absolutely still; and he waited.

A young stag stepped into his view, looking for water. It must have been separated from its herd; either because it had been careless or because it was just misfortunate.

For a normal wolf it would have been too big of a prey even at its young age, but for the Were – especially a strong one like Tony – it was a welcomed challenge. Plus, Tony was always one for going slightly over the top; especially when he intended to impress his mate.

The werewolf stalked its prey silently, taking advantage of the fact that the wind was coming from the opposite direction. The human part of Tony’s brain shut off and he relied solely on his senses; he was just a wolf on a hunt.

He waited for the right moment. Then, with lightning speed, the wolf surged forward towards his prey. The buck, startled by the sudden movement, bolted away, its hooves pounding against the soft earth.

The wolf gave chase, his relentless pursuit echoing through the silent forest. As the buck drew closer to a stream that flowed from the lake, the wolf's instincts kicked in. He veered sharply to the right, cutting off its quarry's escape route. With a desperate leap, the buck attempted to clear the water, but the wolf was too quick. He lunged at the buck's hind legs, his razor-sharp teeth sinking into the flesh.

The buck collapsed. It struggled, trying to get to its feet. There was a brief scuffle, which was finally ended by the wolf's strong jaw with a final bite to the stag's throat.

The Were waited briefly to see if the stag would just do so much as twitch; yet it remained dead.

As the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the lake, the wolf dragged its prey back to the cabin, satisfied with the result of his hunt.

As soon as he stepped onto the front porch, Jarvis opened the door to Tony’s home. Home because of who he knew was waiting for him.

Tony dragged his prey straight into their shared bedroom, not minding the mess he was making along the way.

Stephen sat on the bed, legs crossed and his hands on his knees. He was meditating; the closest thing vampires had to sleeping. His mind had to be far away, since he didn't move despite Tony dropping the stag on the floor with a 'thunk'.

The sorcerer was just wearing a simple robe. The two of them had spent most of their time together in bed in the last days. And on the couch. And on the kitchen counter.

It was mostly Tony’s fault. Once in a while the Were felt this particular kind of restlessness. Like an itch at the back of his mind that took hold of his whole body.

Some people called it being in a rut, but society had put some stigma on that phrase. So people ceased to talk about it at all.

Tony climbed onto the bed, moving his snout into Stephen's face in demand for attention.

That got finally a reaction out of the vampire; he complained by letting out a grunt. Blinking, he buried his fingers into the soft fur.

“No dog drool in my face.”

Tony shifted back under the scarred fingers of his mate; each of his bones cracking roughly back into their place as if they had briefly forgotten they were part human.

He was left naked – clothes weren’t part of the shapeshifting.

Stephen noticed the blood on Tony's face. It wasn't unusual whenever the Were came back from hunting, but normally it wasn't as much - the scent of blood was way stronger than he was used to.

He didn't have much time to think about it though, because Tony claimed his mouth with a kiss. It was rough and sloppy. Stephen had the impression that Tony's brain hadn't quite switched over to human yet. The wolf was always a part of him; these past days it was just more evident.

Stephen licked the blood from Tony’s lips; then he continued on the chin, holding the Were’s face between his trembling hands.

Tony enjoyed the attention, yet his smile remained wolfish. He was hyper-focused on Stephen; he was still on a hunt.

“I brought you a snack,” Tony drawled, pulling away.

Stephen turned his head to look at the stag on the floor. Unimpressed by the mess, he raised an eyebrow. “You’ll never get those stains out of the carpet.”

“Really? I provide food, like the great mate that I am, and all you do is complain about unimportant stains?” Tony pushed the Vamp towards the edge of the bed. “I’m gonna call the carpet installer next week and rip it out. Now, drink.”

Stephen rolled his eyes, yet complied without another word. Graciously, he slid onto the carpet floor and eyed the animal closer, before they darted back to Tony. “This was a strong buck.”

Tony’s chest puffed up, recognizing the compliment. “It was.”

Only the best was good enough for Stephen. The Were continued to watch his every move, like the predator he was.

So was Stephen.

He lifted the buck's head and without breaking eye contact he sunk his teeth into its neck.

The blood was still warm and very sweet. Normally, a vampire needed humanoid blood to survive. But he had drunk from Tony yesterday; and the day before. They had to wait to repeat that or the Were would suffer from severe blood loss.

Animal blood was more like a dessert for vampires. Delicious, but Stephen couldn’t live solely on it. Plus, afterwards he always felt like he was drunk; or high on sugar. And while Tony found that fun to watch, it wasn’t advisable in Stephen’s line of work. So he usually avoided it unless he was on a getaway with Tony.

Stephen drank a decent amount from the stag, even though he wasn’t actually thirsty. Consuming blood of all kinds also had another side effect on vampires.

Tony pulled him back onto the bed and Stephen let go of the prey. He ended up under the Were.

They kissed again, this time more heated. Whenever he drank blood, his cheeks became rosy. It was fascinating to watch the color return to his skin.

Tony loved the ethereal beauty of his vampire mate. Especially under the silvery cloak of moonlight, when Stephen looked like a creature from another world.

But when he looked like this, when he almost looked alive, Tony had all the urge to wreck him.

His tongue traced lines over the vampire’s skin. “Here’s what I’m going to do,” he purred, his voice a few octaves lower. A shiver ran down Stephen’s spine. “I’ll mark you as mine. There won’t be an inch of your skin that won’t feel my touch.”

Jesus fucking Christ. Only Tony knew how to make his words wash over Stephen like he was putting every single promise to work.

The Vamp’s pupils were blown, the animal blood already taking effect. He dug his fingers into Tony’s soft hair, sharp nails dragging over the scalp.

He let the Were manhandle him, let him take the lead; like he knew Tony wanted.

The Were removed the belt of the robe Stephen was still wearing and pushed it off his shoulders. The vampire didn’t see where on the floor his clothes ended up. Strong arms turned him onto his stomach and he propped up onto his knees and elbows.

Tony stayed behind him. He stuck out his tongue and pressed it against Stephen’s hole, then down towards his balls. He repeated this process multiple times, until he heard a stifled moan. He loved it when Stephen moaned; it was one of his favorite sounds.

He pressed his tongue flat against his hole and wiggled it back and forth.

“F-fuck, Tony…”

The Were smiled, his tongue not stopping the work, circling his rim again before it pushed into the heated center.

Tony groaned in arousal, his dick aching to get inside his mate. But not yet. He wanted to play with his prey.

He readjusted his grip and pulled Stephen's cheeks even wider, pressing a wet kiss onto the opening.

A gasp escapes Stephen’s, morphing into a deep moan as Tony sank his tongue fully inside him. He shook with arousal, biting his lips to keep his noises down as the Were began thrusting his tongue in and out of his ass.

It didn’t take long until Stephen met each thrust eagerly. “More… Tony. I need you. I need more of you.”

Tony had the wherewithal to pull away the slightest amount. His eyes transfixed on the glistening hole and the unbroken string of spit connecting them.

“Patience, Steph,” he said – low and husky – as if he didn’t have trouble restraining himself from devouring his mate right here and now. “I will fuck you. When I’m satisfied with how open you are, I will fuck you until I come inside you, and you’ll take it like a good little vampire without coming before I do.”

Stephen dropped his head onto the pillow. “I think you’re overestimating my stamina,” he whispered. He had kept up with the Were's appetite over the last few days, but each time he had become a little more desperate for his mate. And the animal blood in his veins did the rest to keep him on edge too soon.

Somehow, Tony’s touch was soft over his hip bones.

“Maybe. But I don’t think I’m overestimating your determination,” he whispered, climbing up Stephen’s body like a predator.

And fuck, fuck, he’s right. Stephen would hold out for him, even if he had to do it by sheer will.

“Yeah,” the vampire rasps. He shifted under Tony’s weight. “Yeah. Fuck, I will.”

Tony smiled, beautiful and wicked at once. He dipped down to kiss Stephen’s shoulder, all fangs and teeth. At the same time he dipped his finger inside the vampire.

Stephen squirmed, throwing his head back. His mouth was open but he didn’t dare to let out more than a strained noise; too afraid to come undone.

Tony showed mercy and didn’t go for his prostate immediately. Instead he pumped his finger – one, two times, before he added a second one. Then he pulled his fingers out and watched the rim suckle onto them, as if trying to keep them inside.

The Vamp whined at the loss until Tony was kissing his back, kissing him all the way up to his neck. He stopped there. “Ready?”

Stephen shivered. He turned his head and met Tony’s eyes. And he nodded.

“Ready.”

They moaned in unison as Tony sunk into him. His shaft pulsed and throbbed inside him, the burn of accommodation making Stephen go cross eyed, despite the preparation beforehand.

Tony smiled breathlessly into his neck, grabbing Stephen’s waist and using a bruising grip to grind his cock into him with deep, slow thrusts.

The Vamp’s hole felt like heaven around him.

“You’re doing so good, so good for me,” he murmured lowly in Stephen’s ear. “Look at you. Beautiful.”

Stephen moaned when Tony picked up pace.

“Gorgeous.”

Tony smiled ferally and Stephen could feel the moment the Were in Tony took over. The gentle thrusting was over, replaced by more frantic buckling of hips and a wet squelching that was loud and dirty against their panted breaths.

Stephen shuddered as claws traced over his shoulder blades and dug into the skin, not quite breaking it but offering a sharp pressure.

As Tony bucked into him with enough force to almost move the bed, Stephen felt his own cock leaking. He hung his head low between his shoulders, his entire body trembling, aching, burning, all for Tony.

Stephen’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, knowing his release was near, but wanting so badly for Tony to come first. He opened his mouth to speak, but only a sharp gasp escaped him.

Tony set a rapid pace, fucking deep and hard. He felt his balls slap against the vampire with every thrust, heavy with lust.

It’s pure instinct. He was fucking into Stephen hard and holding him down, pinning him onto the mattress. And then he was coming.

Tony felt his orgasm rip through him; he saw stars, shooting his load deep inside the vampire. He didn’t stop thrusting all the while, only slowed down a bit as watched his dick disappearing into Stephen again and again.

“You’re going to come for me?” Tony murmured, his hands still holding Stephen’s hips. He dipped down to run the flat of his tongue over the small space that connected the vampire’s neck and shoulder.

His cock pressed Stephen's prostate the same time he sunk down his teeth in a mating bite. Despite not being a werewolf, the Vamp shuddered all over, crying out helplessly.

Tony’s mouth didn’t relent, sucking on the skin until it was reddened and shiny with spit. Until Stephen’s spine bent inwards and he unraveled completely.

His orgasm hit with a jarring force and completely overwhelmed him. Tony rode the high with him, slowly coming down from his own until both of them stilled, panting heavily.

Tony kissed the reddened skin, more gently this time. He eventually rolled off Stephen and lowered himself down to his side, watching him.

Stephen’s smile was wide and hazy. Tony’s heart was practically soaring out of his chest looking at the disheveled dark-haired vampire. Nobody else got to see him like this. He was always surrounded by an air of properness and perfection.

But now, he looked like any mortal man. His cheeks still blushed, his lips were swollen and hair was falling in his face. He looked beautiful like this and Tony’s heart filled with pride, knowing that he did this to the vampire.

Tony moved towards him and Stephen welcomed him in his arms. The Were nestled into Stephen's chest, inhaling his scent that was mixed with his own. It was perfect.

He probably oozed happy pheromones, pestering the air with it. He didn’t care. Nor did Stephen, who kissed the top of the Were’s head.

They enjoyed each other’s company, catching their breaths, until Stephen's voice broke the silence. “You okay there?”

Normally, Tony barely shut up for five minutes. So the question was justified.

“More than okay,” Tony chuckled, his voice hoarse from exertion. “Are you?”

“Absolutely.” Stephen lazily played with a lock of Tony’s hair.

Tony still inquired. “I wasn’t too rough?”

“You could never. I’m a vampire, remember?”

“Exactly: you’re not a werewolf. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”

Stephen let out an amused huff, touched by the concern. They had talked about it before; Tony would have to do a lot more to hurt Stephen – and vice versa. He didn’t want to start that argument though, instead he started massaging Tony’s head, down to his neck.

Tony let out a content sigh and snuggled closer to his mate. “You’re the best fucking thing that happened to me.”

Stephen still had enough blood in his veins to blush. And wasn’t it ironic that – after all the sex they had had over the past few days – it was this simple statement just now that made his face turn a soft pink; as if he was a bashful young boy.

Maybe it was because he knew Tony didn’t use these words light-hearted.

“I love you too,” Stephen whispered into Tony’s hair and he felt the Were’s lips turn into a smile against his chest.

Then Stephen pushed him into his back and leaned over him, his grin all teeth. “In fact, let me show you how much.”

Tony chuckled. “Fuck yeah!”

_________

Tony drags the stag through his cabin like he wants to decorate it like a children’s hospital (get it? Because of the trail of blood...)

[sonsofjustice]

status: open location: the kitchens at camp

wolfram was feeling strange. he'd heard murmurs of changes within the demigods, a stark loss of power, gaining new abilities that made little sense given their divinity. all wolfram had felt was, well, a little more irritable than usual. he chalked it up to the strange dream he had the other night bleeding into his conscious mind. no harm no foul.

it was rare that wolfram found himself in the kitchens, mostly preferring to cook and dry his meats over a wood fire, or in the comfort of his own space. all was going well until...

"fuck!"

and there goes a stove thrown clean through the doorway, crashing into the soft ground outside. in an instant, the rage has subsided, and his eyes go wide as saucers as he bears witness to the fruits of his destruction.

when did he become so quick to lose his temper?

[burningfudge]

Buckynat in the Ultimate Universe

The new Ultimate universe has been fantastic, and I'm thoroughly enjoying every single Ultimate comic right now, especially Ultimates and Ultimate Spider-Man, which are easily the best Marvel comics at the moment, in my opinion. But I was also thinking about how Bucky & Natasha could be introduced in this new universe.

So, for those who haven't read the original Ultimate comics, Bucky and Natasha have quite a...colorful background, especially Natasha. Bucky is an old ass man who is married to Gail Richards, Steve's former fiancée from the 40s, and had a huge family with her. Steve and Bucky were childhood friends as compared to Bucky being Steve's kid sidekick in 616. This is also where the MCU took inspiration from. Bucky was never the Winter Soldier because Ultimates released in 2002, three years before Bucky was reintroduced as the Winter Soldier in 616.

Natasha, on the other hand...god, where to begin. Much like her 616 counterpart, she was a part of the KGB and then eventually "defected" to SHIELD. However, she eventually turned out to be a traitor, helping invade America because she wanted to take down the country that "crippled and turned Mother Russia into a bankrupt nation of hookers and gangsters." Plus, she was engaged to Tony Stark, playing him the entire time. Additionally, she was also involved in murdering Hawkeye's family, causing Clint to eventually kill her in revenge for murdering his family. So...not great.

So where are Bucky and Natasha in the new Ultimate universe?

Not present.

It was revealed that Bucky is dead in Ultimate Invasion (2023), but I don't think that's true. Or maybe I'm just being delusional. But Jim Hammond, the original Human Torch, was also labeled as deceased but Steve brought him back to life. I know that's easier since Jim's an android, but still! And as shown in Ultimates #4, the rest of the FF are brutally dead, but I think Reed will bring them back, so why can't Bucky come back? And even if he does come back, I think he'll be the Winter Soldier like 616 and not a regular old man like 1610. Steve, unfortunately, has not mentioned him yet.

I believe Natasha's future will be far more optimistic, however. She was a large part of the original Ultimates team, which the MCU took inspiration from for the first Avengers movie. The OG Ultimates were Steve, Tony, Thor, Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Hank, and Janet. As of Ultimates (2024) #4, the new Ultimates team is Steve, Tony, Thor, Sif, Reed, Hank, Janet, America Chavez, and Lejori Joena Zakaria (She-Hulk), so that's pretty similar! Hawkeye will show up in the next issue, so it's only time until Black Widow shows up too.

But thematically, it's only natural for Natasha to arrive soon since much of Earth 6160 revolves around fascism, geopolitics, and the idea of reclaiming your future, which I think Natasha is perfect for because so much of her future was taken from her as a child. Plus, the Eurasian Republic (where Russia is located) is being ruled by the Rasputin siblings as part of the Maker's Council, so the irony of a Rasputin vs a Romanoff is just too funny for me to ignore, and Hickman and Camp will be aware of it as well. And since Natasha was still loyal to Russia in the OG Ultimate universe, I think it only makes sense if she wasn't in the new Ultimate universe. It's a nice contrast to Steve as well because he's Captain America, but America doesn't exist anymore. What does a soldier with no country fight for? Similarly, Russia doesn't exist either. They're both from countries that don't exist thanks to the Maker.

So much of Natasha's history has been tied to Russia and America, but now neither one of them is relevant, so where does she go from here? I'm assuming she'll still have her regular backstory with the Red Room/KGB and then defect, but I think it would be really interesting if she defects from the Eurasian Republic in this universe and eventually helps the Ultimates. The Ultimates are in sore need of a spy/agent, and Natasha's the best one.

Basically, I don't think Buckynat will be a thing in the new Ultimate universe :(

[use-your-telescope]

When Everything's Made to be Broken - Chapter 15: The Sky Turned Black

Summary: When a mission goes wrong, Theo helps Loki navigate the aftermath.  

Author's Notes: Hello hello - I’m back with another chapter (and an actual header image)! Thank you to everyone who shared thoughts/theories/reactions to the last two chapters - I loved reading everyone’s perspectives! Whether or not you commented though, if you’re reading this fic, I appreciate you for giving me/this story a moment of your time. <3

A million thank-yous to @sarahscribbles and @the-lady-amphitrite for giving this chapter a read through and giving feedback <3

Next Chapter will be posted Sunday, January 28th!

Also, If you'd like to be added to the tag list for this fic, let me know!

Content Warning: This chapter contains descriptions of a bombing/attack and the destruction that follows, medical whump, and some discussions about death. I recognize that with current events, the bombing and destruction stuff might be a bit tough for folks to read - if you’re in that camp, you can skip ahead to the third chunk of the story (after ‘but this time I admit I really felt I’d start to slip’). 

Word Count: 9,264

Read on AO3 | When Everything's Made to be Broken Masterlist Song: June - Florence + the Machine

The show was ending And I had started to crack Woke up in Chicago And the sky turned black You’re so high, you’re so high You had to be an angel And I’m so high, I’m so high I can see an angel

Unbeknownst to the general public, the Avengers (and the SHIELD agents that supported their work) went on hundreds of missions a year. Missions varied in location and purpose - Budapest for an assassination, Manitowoc for reconnaissance, Madripoor for hacking, London for retrieving highly valuable artifacts - but they always contributed to the overall safety of Midgard.

 As the Avengers were public figures, they often stuck to relatively short missions, or developed plans so any eagle-eyed observers, whether nefarious or benign, would not notice an extended absence. This was carefully calculated to ensure civilians would not panic about potential threats while ensuring the Avengers had intel to destroy any potential threats before they turned into reality.

As such, missions only made the news when something went horrifically awry.

Nothing about the day had been noteworthy. If anything, it was the epitome of a ‘typical’ day, at least for Loki. His morning consisted of reviewing a series of reports that Heimdall and Valkyrie sent him, detailing the economic impact of certain trade agreements that New Asgard would soon have the opportunity to renegotiate. He sparred with Barnes in the early afternoon, focusing on his dagger technique and sharing tips with the Winter Soldier. Afterward, he joined Dr. Banner in Stark’s lab to assist Banner with research on the physics of Seidr, remaining in the lab until shortly after dinner.  

Banner remained in the lab when Loki excused himself, unable to ignore his rumbling stomach. Loki returned to the residential quarters, casually waving at the assortment of Avengers in the living room and receiving a collection of greetings in return as he passed them on the way to the kitchen. 

In the midst of assembling a sandwich for a late dinner, the shrill voice of a reporter on the nearby television caught Loki’s attention.

“Breaking News: A bombing just outside Chicago has thrown the city into chaos–”

Chicago—

Thor was in Chicago.

Loki sprinted to the sitting room, abandoning an assortment of condiments and toppings on the counter in his rush to learn if his brother had been amidst those impacted.

He arrived to find Maximoff, Barnes, Wilson, Parker, and Belova glued to the television, eyes wide and mouths hanging slightly agape as rising flames and rubble flashed in front of them.

No one uttered a word; Hel, they barely offered Loki a wayward glance as he collapsed into an empty seat and struggled to ignore the festering unease gnawing at his chest as he too became entranced by the breaking news.

On the screen in front of them, a horrifying scene unfolded: innocent civilians, coated in ash, blood, and debris as they ran for their lives, crying out for loved ones. Individuals draped from head to toe in black firing weapons that did not look like anything the Avengers had seen before, beams of octarine light tearing through solid rock and steel like a hot knife through butter. The shrill wail of sirens clashed with the voice of the television reporter, solemn-faced as they recounted the details.

“—massacre — multiple casualties — suspected terrorist attack —“

Amidst the chaos, glimpses of the Avengers who had been sent into the field did little to quell anyone’s anxiety. Barely recognizable beneath shredded armor and the grit of war, they attempted to evacuate civilians while fighting back against the attackers.

At a brief sighting of a bloody, ragged Thor fighting off an adversary, Loki’s blood turned to ice. Of the many times Loki fought alongside Thor, he rarely, if ever his brother in such a haggard state from fighting, which elicited its own special sort of dread. What if this threat was too much for Thor to survive? 

Even after confirmations that the Avengers had prevailed and the attackers were no more, breaking news alerts flashed across the bottom of the screen with headlines that only increased in severity. Emergency rescue crews struggled to control the fires that came from the explosions, dragging unrecognizable bodies from smoke-filled shells of buildings. 

With shaking hands, Loki retrieved his mobile device from his pocket and dialed Thor’s telephone number.

“You’ve reached the voicemail—“

The damn thing didn’t even ring before the automated greeting began.

With a growl, Loki ended the call and threw his phone against the sofa cushion. 

It was foolish to worry; Thor was a God. He was a warrior. He survived far worse than a simple Midgardian bomb. Of course Thor wouldn’t answer his mobile phone; he was in the middle of being the hero that everyone expected him to be. 

And yet, with every minute that passed, with every flame that rose on the television screen, with every new death count, the coil of dread tightened in Loki’s chest. 

Loki buried his face in his hands, fighting to steady his breathing.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Belova attempted to reassure Loki, though her constant glances at her own mobile device, as if checking for a response from the elder widow, did not escape him. 

Any other plans for the evening had long been forgotten. Wilson and Barnes monitored government and SHIELD communication channels for updates on agents who were at the scene of the attack. Maximoff searched for additional news coverage on her laptop, while in the background survivors shakily recounted the moment that changed their lives forever. Belova and Parker took to social media to find first-hand accounts and updates from ground-level, announcing anything they found to be noteworthy.

In the midst of everything, Loki exchanged messages with Val and Heimdall. While early messages from Heimdall provided reassurance that he could still track Thor’s presence, that reassurance fell away with time; when Heimdall no longer felt Thor’s presence, the conversation changed to implementing the protocol for ruling in Thor’s unanticipated absence, incapacitation, or, though Loki prayed to the Norns it was not the case, Thor’s death.

Every once in a while, an Avenger appeared on-screen, providing at least some reassurance that perhaps circumstances were not as dire as initially thought. When the cameras focused on an area cordoned off for medical care providers to triage and transport victims, they caught sight of Theo. Though she appeared a bit weathered and her armor had torn in the fighting, Loki recognized the way she directed the staff around her from the many times he visited her while she worked. 

Rogers had appeared multiple times, often carrying victims from the rubble and comforting distraught bystanders, appearing equally haggard but still maintaining a steely resolve. Civilian-recorded video of the Vision and Stark lifting up massive sections of concrete to free trapped victims quickly took over social media, subsequently appearing on the news. 

At two separate points, a surge of hope stole Loki’s breath away as he thought he saw Thor, only for it to be a civilian. Belova experienced a similar sensation with potential sightings of Romanoff, though she seemed less concerned for the elder widow’s safety.

Nearly four hours after the news of the attack broke, an announcement blared through Avengers Tower, drowning out the doomsday scenario on television: “We need all available medics to report to the hangar immediately; we have a quinjet arriving in t-15 minutes with twelve level-1 trauma patients.” 

I hear your heart beating in your chest The world slows ‘til there’s nothing left And skyscrapers look on like great, unblinking giants In those heavy days in June When love became an act of defiance

In the moments leading up to the quinjet’s return, the tension in the hangar could have been cut with a knife. 

Through the hangar’s glass and steel door, the darkest of nights loomed. Not even the glow of lights from the city below could dispel the darkness, creating an expanse of endless obsidian sky that Loki recognized from his time in the void.

Inside the hangar, harsh fluorescent lights left nothing to the imagination, their light so bright and jarring against the black sky that Loki’s eyes burned. The stench of motor oil and gasoline filled the air, only amplifying the churning of Loki’s stomach. 

Multiple stretchers waited with teams of medics at their command. Someone Loki recognized as one of Theo’s colleagues spoke on the comms with the returning jets and with the infirmary staff, alternating between briefing the medics about the patients they would receive and preparing for the influx of injuries. Despite Loki’s best attempts to glean even the smallest of details that might inform him of his brother’s condition, other conversations and background noise drowned out the doctor’s voice. 

The Avengers who had not been sent to Chicago congregated in relatively close proximity, waiting with bated breath for any news of their peers. Banner, who had been in the lab until the announcement of the jet’s return, paced back and forth, glancing between the hangar entrance and the ground. Barnes stood at attention, arms crossed against his chest and fingers tapping against his vibranium bicep impatiently. 

Belova leaned against a metal wall, flipping her mobile phone in hand as if it were a dagger. Parker mirrored Belova’s stance, though he placed all of his weight upon one leg, restlessly bouncing the other at a frantic pace until Loki had to look away before he snapped at the spiderling. Maximoff and Wilson distanced themselves from the group, discussing something in hushed voices while glancing back and forth between the group and the hangar’s entrance.

A familiar voice rang out through the hangar’s intercoms, abruptly stopping all conversation. “Agent Romanoff to Air Control, we are five minutes out. Are we cleared to land?”

“Air control to Agent Romanoff,” the reply came through, “Hangar door is opening now.”

The mass of steel and glass which constituted the hangar door groaned as the mechanics which propelled its movement activated. As if weighed down by the heaviness of everyone’s attention, the door slid open at a pace which made a snail seem like an olympian sprinter. The scraping of metal wheels against metal tracks echoed through the hangar. 

All the while, everyone remained frozen in place; even Parker refrained from bouncing his leg. No one spoke. If it weren’t for Loki’s location, which placed the majority of the hangar’s occupants in his line of sight, he might think the hangar completely empty.

When the door finished opening, the medics sprang back to life, arranging themselves in preparation for the jet’s imminent arrival. 

“Agent Romanoff to Air Control - we are in final descent. T-one minute out.”

A wave of relief collided with a storm of fear at the first glimpse of steel and turbines. Loki’s heart rate careened out of control, the pounding in his ears drowning out all sound. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and tugged at the curls, desperate for news that his brother was alright while dreading the possibility that his brother was among those who needed immediate care. 

Though Romanoff landed the aircraft quickly, the exit ramp’s descent was anything but quick. The first teams of medics brought gurneys forward, but upon looking into the rear of the jet, stepped aside to clear a path. For what, Loki didn’t know, nor did he have time to inquire – the steel ramp touched down on the concrete floor, and the hangar roared into a frenzy of organized chaos. 

Theo leapt off the side of the ramp to stand beside the medics, ushering another pair of medics carrying a patient on some sort of stiff board down to the first team of medics. Like Theo, the patient could barely be recognized beneath dust, ash, and blood, though their unusually large stature made Loki’s heart stutter and his breath catch in his throat. A glimpse of blond sullied with dust, ash, and blood that matted itself in long locks did nothing to ease the festering dread that had settled into Loki’s stomach. 

While the medics transferred the individual onto the gurney, Loki crept closer, only to confirm his worst fear: Thor, unconscious and beaten within an inch of his life, laid before him, his fate at the mercy of mere Midgardians. 

No.

“What happened?” Loki rushed forward, pushing through the medics crowding the gurney so he could get a better look at Thor. Some sort of monitoring device flashed numbers upon a screen, while the medics relayed a series of data points that made no sense to the prince and only incensed him further. “What happened to my brother?”

One medic attempted to explain as they whisked Thor out of the hangar, but none of the words registered in Loki’s mind; all he could think about was the looming threat of losing Thor, the only brother he had. They hadn’t even reached the hangar’s exit when the shrill cry of an alarm interrupted and the collection of medics, along with the gurney, jolted to an abrupt stop.

“Dr. Amaris,” one medic shouted back towards the aircraft, “Thor’s coding!”

Not understanding what the medic meant, Loki turned to the monitor for answers.

No, Thor–

All Hel broke loose. 

“He’s bleeding out!”

Medics tore the remaining scraps of Thor’s armor off his body, shouting instructions at each other. 

“Start compressions!”

“What is happening?” Loki snarled. They ignored him, instead applying pressure to wounds and repeatedly pressing on Thor’s chest as they continued shouting commands among each other. “I demand you tell me what is happening!”

It was as if Loki was not even there; no one even acknowledged his presence. One medic glanced past Loki and towards the aircraft, calling out a series of terms that Allspeak could not translate. 

“Please–” Loki pleaded, desperate for any answer he could receive, “This is my brother—”

“Out of my way!”

The command boomed through the hangar, barely reaching Loki’s ears before someone shoved him aside and leapt onto the stretcher. They straddled Thor as if it were second nature,  seamlessly transitioning into pressing on his chest while barking orders at the individuals around them. 

Loki stumbled, caught off guard by the strength of the shove - never had a Midgardian managed to move him with such ease. The stretcher raced towards the infirmary before Loki could regain his footing, though he gave chase and quickly caught up to the entourage of medics surrounding his brother while they waited for the elevator. As he arrived, he realized just who happened to shove him aside as if it were child’s play: 

Theo. 

Black tendrils of smoke surrounded her blue-gloved hands and trailed up her forearms, forming runes that floated just above her skin. She continued to instruct the other medics, her focus razor-sharp as the runes moved down her arms and enveloped Thor.  

“What is wrong with my brother?” Loki demanded once more. His frustration at the lack of acknowledgement intertwined with his desperation and fear at the grievous state his brother returned in, fueling Loki’s ire until he teetered dangerously on the edge of explosion.

“Loki, your brother has some pretty serious injuries,” Theo calmly replied, glancing at the monitor as she continued her work. “We’re taking care of it though - I’ll fill you in later, but right now I need to focus on Thor!”

The lack of panic in Theo’s response only further incensed Loki. Did she not care about Thor’s well-being? Did she not realize who it was that needed care? This was no Midgardian - this was Thor. Thor, the King of Asgard. God of Thunder!

And yet, she treated him like any other patient.

“You act like he’s a simple Midgardian!” Loki bellowed, the torrent of fear and anger unleashing itself upon anyone and everyone around him.” You know nothing of how to heal the Aesir— he will die at your hand!”

“Rather than argue, I’m just going to prove you wrong.” Despite her infuriatingly calm tone, Theo leveled a blistering glare at the younger Asgardian. What were previously the whites of Theo’s eyes had turned pitch black, her irises white and her pupils a pale, smoky gray. “He’s not dying at anyone’s hand today - especially not mine. Now, please be quiet and let me do my job.”

Loki froze, stunned. No one had ever had the audacity to speak to him in such a way - and yet, she didn’t even think twice.

Theo didn’t notice Loki’s surprise - she continued to direct the other medics before returning her attention to the God of Thunder. Theo recited an incantation under her breath, causing the runes trailed into Thor’s open mouth and down his throat. Once Theo uttered the final words, a flash of light shot from Theo’s hands and into Thor’s chest. 

With a jolt, Thor’s chest shot up and he gasped for air; his chest rose and fell, and the monitor ceased to scream. 

Thor’s revival brought Loki no relief, however - the possibility of needing further revival ensured Loki remained just as on-edge, even as they descended upon the elevator, then careened down the halls in a mad dash to the infirmary. 

Just before Loki could follow his brother into the Emergency ward, someone restrained him with an iron-clad grip and dragged him back towards the waiting room.

“Unhand me!” Loki roared, whipping around to find Sergeant Barnes had taken hold of him. “I need to be with my brother!”

With a growl, Loki attempted to free himself from Barnes’ grasp, but against the vibranium arm it was useless.

“They don’t have room for you back there.” Barnes’ flat affect, combined with the infuriatingly stoic expression he wore, only served to further flare Loki’s temper. “You’re only going to make it harder for them to work.”

“They know nothing of the care an Aesir requires!” Loki spat his protest at Barnes, who didn’t even flinch.

“I’m pretty sure they do, given Theo just saved your brother’s life.” The Winter Soldier arched one eyebrow at the Asgardian in a subtle challenge. “If you get in their way, a lot of other people might be losing their brother or sister.”

Loki clenched his jaw, scowling as he once again attempted to wrestle himself free from the Sergeant’s inescapable grip.

“I get it.” Barnes continued to stare at Loki with such unwavering intensity that made Loki’s skin crawl. “I lose my shit when Steve gets hurt too.”

“You truly believe your friendship with the captain is remotely close to that of a brother?”  Incensed by the thought of comparing Thor to a simple friend, Loki sneered. “You could never understand.”

“Steve may not be my brother in blood, but he is in every way that matters. Just like you and Thor.” Barnes replied, ice-blue eyes locking onto Loki’s. “When no one else believed in me, Steve did. When everyone was convinced that I was nothing more than a monster, that I was past redemption, Steve still saw the good in me and he fought for me. Everyone else we grew up with, our real families - they’re all dead. The world we knew is a distant memory. Steve is the only person I have left. No one else has been through what we’ve been through; no one else understands what it’s like to suddenly wake up and everything has changed.”

There was a certain vulnerability in Barnes’ eyes that Loki hadn’t ever seen before, and a conviction in his voice that Loki had only heard a handful of times. The combination proved to be enough to disarm Loki’s most barbed retorts, allowing the Sergeant to continue:

“Thor always believed in you and always saw the good in you, even when you didn’t see it yourself. Your entire realm was destroyed, your family is gone, and no one else lived through being Asgardian royalty - Thor is all you have left, and he’s the only one who understands.” Barnes let out a tense breath, still locked into Loki’s gaze as he released Loki from his grasp. “I get it.” 

All the while, the stream of medics and stretchers heading into the emergency department remained steady, validating Barnes’ previous argument: there would not be room in the ward for Loki to accompany his brother.

“Theo’s good at what she does. Dr. Cho and Dr. Harper are world-renowned. They will make sure Thor’s just fine.” Barnes slapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder, to which Loki flinched. “Let them do their thing.”

Begrudgingly, Loki nodded and let out a sigh, running one hand through his hair and then tugging on the ends. 

“I suppose you are correct.”

“I know I am.” Barnes smirked; the urge to remove the smirk from Barnes’ face struck with such intensity that Loki barely managed to restrain himself. “And Loki?”

“What?” The snippy tone was all too obvious.

“You should probably apologize to Theo for what you said…” When Loki’s response was a sour glare, Barnes steeled himself and locked eyes with the Asgardian yet again, undeterred. “She’s your friend and she saved your brother's life. Even if she wasn’t your friend, that was a shitty thing to say to someone who was helping. Swallow your pride.”

With that, Barnes departed, and left Loki with nothing but his spiraling thoughts as he waited for any scrap of news regarding his brother’s wellbeing.

You were broken hearted And the world was too And I was beginning to lose my grip And I have always held it loosely, But this time I admit I really felt I’d start to slip

The Emergency Department may as well have been ransacked.

Wrappers for medical supplies, towels stained a deep crimson, discarded gloves, and protective gear covered the once-charcoal floor. With such a high volume of patients, they didn’t even have time to properly dispose of their protective gear in a bin, too-focused on putting on fresh gloves and gowns to ensure they could keep up with the relentless stream of victims needing care. Theo lifted up one foot, cringing as the sole of her shoe stuck to the floor from the residue of congealing blood.

She would have to bake the janitorial staff a cake as a thank-you for cleaning up after such a busy day. 

Glancing at the clock, Theo let out a heavy sigh.

11:37 PM. 

Twenty-nine hours earlier, a deafening crash rang out amidst the skyscrapers of Chicago, and with it the city turned into something from Theo’s worst fears. What was meant to be a simple reconnaissance mission turned into fighting off an attack from insurgents that made Theo’s hair stand on the back of her neck. She didn’t recognize the attackers because of their masks and outfits of all-black, but the artillery they brought with them seemed unnervingly familiar.

The hour that followed was a waking nightmare spent evacuating innocent people while fighting off the mystery attackers. For the three hours after, Theo worked alongside rescue crews to enact mass-casualty protocols, her heart breaking all over again with every black tag she had to assign to a victim. Theo may have been a powerful healer, but it would have been impossible for her to save everyone; instead, she had to conserve her energy for absolute emergencies. 

Though she had every intent of remaining on-scene to continue rescue efforts, SHIELD had other ideas. In order to allow all of Chicago’s medical resources to be diverted towards caring for victims of the blast, SHIELD would transport all injured agents back to New York for care at Avengers’ tower, starting with the most severely injured, which meant Theo would be needed at the hospital in New York. 

She returned to New York with the first jet, scrambling alongside SHIELD medics to keep the nearly twenty injured agents on the jet alive and stable until they had reinforcements.

From the time Theo landed to when she took in the aftermath, twenty five hours had passed. Multiple jets followed the first, each with more patients who needed a level of care that couldn’t be found in other hospitals. Those twenty five hours passed in a blur of organized chaos: triage, treat, send off to surgery or a ward depending on the injuries, rinse and repeat. Theo barely had time to clean herself up enough that she wouldn’t be considered an infection risk from the ash and dust that had practically become a second skin.

In what both Helen and Julie described as a miracle, all of the patients who hadn’t died before arriving in New York survived. It wasn’t a miracle, though; Theo spent the entire time darting between gurneys, magically treating the worst of the wounds and reviving patients as needed. She had to revive three separate agents, which left her with a bloody nose, a throbbing headache, sore muscles, and more nauseous than she cared to admit - but everyone lived, and that was what mattered.

Of the many patients Theo treated upon landing, one lurked in the back of her mind: Thor.  Physically, the process of re-starting Thor’s heart was taxing, but not as bad as a full revival. Mentally, it was one of the less pleasant moments. However, the memory that lingered was less about reviving Thor and more about Loki’s remark as she worked on Thor that twisted her stomach into knots: “You act like he’s a simple Midgardian! You know nothing of how to heal the Aesir— he will die at your hand!”

The statement could easily be attributed to the heat of the moment, but that didn’t make it sting any less. If it was a field agent that she didn’t know who was freaking out about their partner, that was one thing - she could shake that off, and she had plenty of times before.

But Loki? 

Loki knew about her fears and how much losing a patient impacted her, even if she didn’t know the patient before. And to have him question — no, not question, outright doubt — her capabilities?

Well, his words cut far deeper and were much harder to shake.

When the final patient was stabilized and transferred out of the emergency department, Theo was the only doctor who didn’t immediately change out of her scrubs and go home to sleep. Not that she wasn’t looking forward to burying herself under a mountain of blankets and sleeping for the next two days, because she was. But she knew herself well enough to know she wouldn’t be able to rest without checking on Thor first.

Maybe she was after the reassurance that Thor was, in fact, recovering. Maybe she just needed to end the night by coming full-circle, checking on the first patient she took care of. Why she needed to check on him wasn't important; as long as she knew he was alright, that was what mattered.

Theo slipped through the halls of the hospital, making her way to Thor’s room. Unlike the emergency department, which constantly bustled with people coming and going, the halls of the ward were almost eerily quiet. After the bustle and chaos of the last 24 hours, the quiet and relative peace was refreshing. 

Other than a nurse sitting at the nurse’s station in Thor’s unit, Theo didn’t run into a single person. That was probably for the best, because Theo could guarantee that she looked like a mess. The nurse offered a tired smile and nod, to which Theo nodded back. The nurse pointedly glanced at an open door a bit further down the hall, then nodded again. Following the nurse’s gaze, Theo realized the nurse had been pointing her to Thor’s room. 

Theo gave the nurse another smile and nod, then closed the remaining distance to the open door. She stopped in the entrance and leaned against the doorframe, taking in the sight before her.

The bed had been tilted up at the waist, giving Theo a better view of Thor, who slept peacefully… At least, as peacefully as someone could sleep after nearly dying. Freshly washed golden blonde locks fanned out across his pillow. His skin already regained a somewhat healthy flush - probably something to do with the enhanced healing of the Aesir, but as one of the first patients treated, he had a bit of a head start on the whole recovery thing. 

Though he slept, Thor had a visitor who wasn’t Theo. Despite sitting with their back to the door, the perfectly erect posture and inky curls could have only belonged to one person: Loki.

Loki’s presence nearly made Theo turn on her heel and high-tail it out of there. She just stopped in to check on Thor; facing Loki was something she wasn’t sure she could handle at the moment. With how tired she was, Theo didn’t trust herself to avoid saying something that would make an already awkward situation worse. Loki needed someone to support him, not someone to piss him off. 

“You need not lurk in the entrance,” Loki spoke up, not even turning around to look at Theo as he addressed her. “If you wish to enter, do so.”

Whether he knew it was Theo or not was a mystery, but he must have at least sensed someone’s presence. Regardless, it wasn’t like she could sneak away anymore.

Pushing away from the doorframe, Theo sighed. 

“I didn’t mean to intrude.” She hesitantly stepped into the room, but stayed close to the door. If the conversation went south, she’d at least have a quick out. “I just finished working, so I thought I’d see how Thor was doing…You know, make sure he was still alive and all… Still Aesir, not a midgardian zombie or something.”

Damn her lack of filter. 

A breathless puff of laughter escaped Loki, sounding almost surprised. Before Theo could turn and run, Loki twisted in his seat to face her, his narrowed eyes trailing up and down her body. His expression gave away no clues as to whether he was laughing because he found her comment amusing or because he was shocked she had the guts to speak to him like that, or anything to tell her where his mind was at.

“He remains alive and Aesir,” Loki finally replied, offering a tired smirk. “Though you, mortal, look a bit too close to a zombie for comfort.”

Theo rolled her eyes, but cracked a smile. She should have known something like that was coming. Beyond having bags under her bloodshot eyes and the inevitable loss of color in her skin from the revivals, Theo was almost positive her hair resembled a rat’s nest… But that was typical after a normal shift in the emergency department. After 24 hours straight, not to mention coming from a literal battle ground, she could only imagine what she must have looked like. 

“We just finished triaging and stabilizing everyone…” Theo shrugged, keeping her smile from Loki’s observation. “It's not for the faint of heart.”

“No, but you are nowhere near faint of heart,” Loki murmured, offering a small, hesitant smile of his own. “For that, I am grateful.”

Theo nodded, uncertain of how to take his remark. She shoved her hands in her pockets, glancing around the rest of the room. Assorted bouquets of flowers and cards stood on display, covering the majority of the room’s surfaces. The whirring and beeping of monitors and machines filled the silence between them. 

“Thank you for caring for my brother.” Loki’s attention returned to Thor, who still slept. “I apologize for my remarks earlier - I let my emotions overtake me. It was inappropriate for me to speak to you in such a harsh manner.”

The simple fact that she didn’t have to prompt him for the apology made it seem genuine, but the underlying distrust remained hard for Theo to shake. After all, wasn’t there something about how the things people say in the heat of the moment are what they feel deep down?

“It’s no problem,” Theo bit the inside of her cheek, glancing at Thor before returning her attention to Loki. “Sorry for my less than professional response… I uh, get a bit intense in the heat of the moment.”

“You need not apologize - your reaction was justified.” Loki nodded, still focused on his brother’s face. “I trust you with my life, and I do not doubt in the slightest that you would fight tirelessly to save any life you could…” He faltered, drawing in a sharp breath before letting out a weary sigh. “If I am entirely honest, I am not certain as to why I stated you would not be able to care for Thor, as I know better.”

The knot in Theo’s chest unraveled a bit more.

“I get it,” Theo reassured him, stepping closer so she could rest one hand on his shoulder. “Thor’s your brother. If I were in your position, I’d do the same.”

Loki covered her hand with his own, finally meeting Theo’s gaze. Red rimmed his eyes, making his seaglass green irises stand out even more than usual; combined with his disheveled curls, Theo realized that this was the most distressed that she had ever seen Loki before.

“He’ll be alright,” Theo murmured, squeezing Loki’s shoulder, “And he’s lucky to have a brother who cares as much about him as you do.”

Theo caught the slightest quiver in Loki’s lip and the way his eyes briefly glistened, but she didn’t say anything. Frankly, she didn’t know what she would even say. Blood never scared her, but the second someone she knew started crying her heart hammered in her chest and her palms grew clammy; forget trying to carry a train of thought, much less a conversation. 

“Thank you,” Loki whispered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He tightened his grip on Theo’s hand, pressing it more firmly onto his shoulder.

With a quiet sigh, Theo shifted her weight between her aching feet once more. No longer running all over and fueled by adrenaline, the physical toll of going at full speed for so long started to make their presence known. 

Still, she didn’t try to remove her hand from Loki’s shoulder. Loki obviously needed the support, and he didn’t seem like he was about to ask for it. Besides, if her silent gesture stopped any potential tears, she could handle the aching feet that came with standing.

“You mentioned that you recently finished stabilizing the other agents…” Loki’s brows drew together as he returned his attention to Theo. “It has been over twenty four hours since they returned. Have you taken any breaks to rest, or to eat?”

“I worked straight through.” Theo shook her head. “We had lives to save. That’s the nature of what we do; it doesn’t wait for anyone’s lunch break to finish.” 

Loki replied with a displeased hum and a frown. He removed his hand from Theo’s, the cold air in the room a crisp contrast to the warmth of his skin. With a flick of his wrist, he used some seidr to move one of the  chairs from the other side of the bed to sit beside him. “You ought to take a seat - you’ve certainly earned the opportunity to rest.”

With a timid, grateful smile, Theo sat down. Relaxing her muscles brought instant relief, though the motion reminded her of how much her entire body ached after reviving people.

“How are the other agents?”

“Barring any complications, they’ll be alright,” Theo slouched back in the chair, arms resting on the sides as she settled in. “Recovery times will vary, but the fact we were able to save everyone who made it back to New York is a miracle in and of itself.”

If there were complications, well… Theo lived in the building. They knew where to find her.

“That is excellent news,” Loki remarked, resting his hand atop Theo’s as it sat on the arm of the chair between them. Though Theo did her best not to acknowledge the gesture, it certainly caught her attention. “You seem truly exhausted.”

“When you’re running on adrenaline, it’s easy to go for a long time and feel totally fine,” she shrugged, “but now all the adrenaline is wearing off and I’m definitely feeling the consequences.” 

“The consequences?”

“Fatigue, sore muscles, all that good stuff.” Theo softened the remark with a hint of a smile. Loki already had Thor to focus on; he didn’t need to hear Theo complain. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m used to working long stretches - normally my shifts are twelve-plus hours at a time. The only time I work twenty four hour shifts are when I’m on call, and I usually get to nap somewhere in there. But with the number of SHIELD agents impacted and the volume of casualties, we needed all hands on deck.”

“Seems it was quite the undertaking,” Loki murmured.

“Yeah — By the time we were done it looked like a tornado came through and destroyed everything. I can’t imagine what the hospitals in Chicago are dealing with right now.” 

Loki arched an eyebrow at her as if asking her to elaborate. 

“Up until I had to come back to New York, I was working with rescue crews to implement mass casualty protocols; essentially, we search through the rubble for people, triage to get a sense of how badly they are injured, then assign a colored tag based on how severely they are injured.” Theo let out a tense breath. She looked down at the floor, lowering her voice when she continued: “I’ve never triaged so many patients in such a short period of time, and they still had so much work to do when I left. The hospitals there are probably still drowning with patients, despite all the black tags.”

“… Black tags?”

“Victims who were dead or were about to die, regardless of medical intervention,” Theo quietly explained. “I gave twenty two people black tags today, and not all of them were dead on discovery.” Admitting the truth aloud made Theo want to vomit. “Making that call never gets easier.”

If anything, it only got harder to make that call.

With an absentminded hum, Loki nodded. He brought his attention back to Thor, who slept soundly. “Will you have time to rest and recuperate before your next shift?”

“I’m supposed to have the next two days off,” Theo answered with a halfhearted shrug, the black tags still lurking in her mind. “but if I’m needed I’ll be in to help.”

Loki frowned, narrowing his eyes at Theo.

“What?” 

“You spend all your time caring for others,” Loki observed, “Yet caring for yourself seems to be an afterthought.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine.” Theo rolled her eyes, but forced a half-smile. “I just need a nap and I’ll be good to go.”

It wasn’t entirely true. If Theo didn’t need to use any more magic, she’d technically be fine, despite a headache and some queasiness that would probably last for a few days. For the moment, though, the explanation would suffice. 

Besides, aleve and pepto bismol were available on Earth, so she could always resort to pharmacological solutions to keep her going. 

Though he responded with a skeptical glance, Loki didn’t push the subject. His hand remained atop Theo’s, but he slipped his fingers between hers and squeezed.

“What about you?” Theo glanced up at Loki. “I’m guessing you haven’t left that chair since you were allowed to see him?” 

“Guilty as charged, I suppose.” Loki’s head wobbled slightly from side to side, but he didn’t look at Theo. 

“There’s nothing to feel guilty about.” Theo squeezed his hand back, holding it tight for just a moment longer. “He’s your brother - it’s normal to want to be here.”

“I suppose it depends on who you ask,” Loki muttered, letting go of Theo to scrub his face with both hands. “There are those—“

“The only person whose opinion matters is you.” Theo gently interrupted, ducking her head to lock eyes with Loki. “At the end of the day, it’s your brother—“

“That is not how one operates when responsible for a nation and its people.” The interruption was sharp, almost irascible. As if to emphasize his irritation, he dropped his arms to rest on the sides of the chair and threw his head back towards the ceiling. “One’s personal desires are of negligible importance in the grand scheme of the realms.”

Oh, he did not just go there. 

Theo bit down on the inside of her cheek so hard that the sharp tang of iron filled her mouth, and it was all she could do so she wouldn’t say something she would later regret. 

In Loki’s defense, he had no idea why that remark would rub her the wrong way, and he was obviously stressed. 

“Just because you are a ruler does not mean you have to sacrifice your emotions,” Theo quietly challenged, wringing her hands in her lap. “There are many who would argue that feeling and acknowledging those emotions makes you a better leader.”

Loki fell silent, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. The tendons along his clenched jaw shifted as if trying not to unleash a flurry of barbed words on Theo. If Theo was lucky, Loki was simply working through how he wanted to reply, but the slight narrowing of his eyes as he kept his attention facing ahead did little to reassure Theo that he wasn’t about to verbally eviscerate her. 

After a prolonged pause, he let out a tense breath and ran one hand through his hair. He leaned forward in his seat, taking hold of Thor’s hand.  

“From previous experience, sentiment has only led to suffering.” The concession was hushed, barely audible amongst the background noise. 

“And yet, you still care. That’s worth something.” Theo pointed out, attention trained on Loki. “From experience, it only hurts worse if you try to ignore it.”

He pointedly avoided her gaze, instead focusing on Thor’s hand, the tan skin contrasting against his own. He brushed a thumb against the back of Thor’s hand, a delicate gesture in contrast to his hardened expression.

As silence stretched between them once more, questions of whether Theo pushed too hard swirled in her mind. Who was she, after all, to make him confront such a sore subject? Sure, it started with an attempt to reassure him, but it went south embarrassingly fast.

Theo really needed to learn when to shut the hell up.

This time, it was too late to shut up, so that led to a new series of questions: would it be awkward if she left? Or was it more awkward if she stayed? 

Theo brought her attention to her sneakers, noticing the scuffs along the once crisp white soles. Flexing her toes back and forth, she watched how the scuffs bent with each movement of her foot. The longer she watched, the more meditative the motions felt, allowing her mind to fall somewhat quiet.

“Forgive me. I should not have snapped at you.” Loki broke the silence, startling Theo so she jumped in her seat and jerked her head towards Loki. He regarded her with a sheepish curl on one side of his lips, somewhere between apologetic and amused.

A sharp throb between Theo’s temples, the consequence of moving so quickly, forced a wince from her. She grimaced, massaging her temples in a feeble attempt to lessen the discomfort. 

“Sorry,” Theo countered, her voice straining ever-so-slightly with each pulse against her skull. “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

“Ah, I beg to differ.” Loki chuckled, almost to himself. The smile that had initially started as sheepish curled up further, taking on a glint of something else that Theo couldn’t quite describe. “If left unchallenged, who knows what chaos might ensue.”

Despite the headache, Theo managed a weak chuckle and nodded. The movement left her oddly unsteady; she closed her eyes and waited for the sensation to pass.

Lightly calloused fingers curled around Theo’s wrists, gently tugging her hands away from her head. Theo opened her eyes to find the smile had fallen from Loki’s face, replaced instead by a furrowed brow and a frown. “You’ve a headache?”

“Yeah,” Theo admitted, before quickly adding: “It’s not that bad though. I have stuff for it, I just need to take it.”

Loki released Theo’s wrists; Theo found herself missing the warmth. “Though I will admit it is nice to have company, you really ought to take some medicine for your head and rest.” 

He was right, but it also felt wrong to leave him alone.

Theo sighed. “You should get some rest too, you know.”

“I doubt I could sleep, even if I were to lay down.” Loki shook his head. “If Thor were to need anything and I wasn’t there, I–”

“It’s alright, you don’t need to justify it to me.” Theo cut him off, though not unkindly. She rose to her feet, pausing to blink away the static that clouded her vision from the head rush that followed. “Text me if you need anything, okay? Even if it’s at a weird time.”

To Theo’s surprise, Loki also stood; he closed the distance between her and embraced her, clutching her to his chest. She didn’t have to think twice before wrapping her arms around him, returning the gesture.

“Thank you,” Loki whispered, his breath warm against the top of Theo’s head.

“Of course,” Theo replied, her voice muffled by his chest. She inhaled and caught the familiar scent of his cologne - warm, spicy, woodsy - and smiled. That smile stayed when they both finally pulled away, hands brushing as they lowered their arms; a nervous chuckle slipped out of Loki, and if Theo didn’t know any better she would have thought his cheeks grew pink.

“Good night, Theo.”  Loki lingered for a moment, gazing at Theo with a shy smile.

“Good night, Loki.” 

The halls of the hospital were emptier than a ghost town as Theo made the trip back to her suite; the chill of the filtered air clung to Theo’s skin, even through her clothes. Theo shivered, her muscles aching with each tremor of her limbs. She folded her arms across her chest and tried to ignore it, but she wasn’t warm like Loki, so it did little to ward off the cold.

When she finally got back to her suite and climbed into bed, the space beside her felt especially empty. But after such a long day, the observation was fleeting; she barely closed her eyes before she was already drifting to sleep.

Choirs sang in the street And I would come to you To watch the television screen In your hotel room I’m always down to hide with you

Though years had passed since Loki made Midgard his home, there were elements he had not grown accustomed to… Chief among them were Midgardian healing methods.

Ever since Thor returned to him bruised and bloodied, Loki found himself thinking back to Eir and missing the Soul Forges of Asgard. Asgardian healing was without a doubt far superior to anything the Midgardians could muster. The longer Loki stared at the tubes and wires attached to his brother’s body, the more he considered the possibility that it might have been for the best if he had conquered Midgard all those years ago, if for no other reason than it would have resulted in Soul Forges on Midgard.

Sure, Thor had made considerable progress while infirmed; if the doctors were to be believed, Thor’s injuries were healing nicely. 

That didn’t mean Loki had to like seeing his brother in an infirmary bed for days on end. On the contrary: the sight grated him like none other. Sitting in a stiff, metal-framed chair day in and day out, only able to offer meager comforts to his brother, was its own kind of Hel. 

And to see Thor - Thor, who was always the stronger brother, the protector, the warrior - to see him reduced to being weak as a kitten?

The more Loki considered the reality of the situation, the more his blood boiled.

However, each time his temper neared a breaking point - when he was about to snarl at the slightest inconvenience, Theo just happened to appear. She always claimed she was simply ‘dropping by to see how the patient was doing,’ but the knowing glance shared between the nurses whenever she arrived told Loki there was more to the story. 

Regardless, she was there, and her mere presence stilled the constant storms brewing in his soul. 

Sometimes she calmed the tempest by answering Loki’s burning questions - why certain treatments were more effective than others, the purpose of various tests, what the results of those tests meant. It was not that the doctors in charge of Thor’s care withheld information; they were quite forthcoming with Loki and seemed more than willing to answer his questions. Loki recognized they truly put forth their best efforts to assuage his concerns, and though it was not always effective he appreciated the effort. However, for whatever reason Theo’s answers contained some unknown element that put Loki at ease, even if they were almost identical to the answers from Thor’s doctors. 

Other times, she offered a distraction from the discord brewing within. On the days when she visited after concluding her work in the infirmary, the distraction typically came in the form of a film or television show. Though the shows and films varied in genre and premise, there were elements in common: they all involved some element of comedy and varying degrees of mischief. Whenever she suggested something to watch, Theo always took time to explain what it was about the selection that she thought the brothers would enjoy, though it did not escape Loki’s observation that there were always details which she felt Loki specifically would enjoy.

Thankfully, the end of the nightmare was near. Though not fully recovered, Thor had been cleared for discharge that afternoon - his condition no longer required care from the infirmary, so there was no reason for him to remain. 

While Thor changed out of his pajamas and into comfortable clothes, Loki busied himself collecting the various gifts and belongings that had accumulated throughout his brothers’ stay. 

“It was quite kind of Lady Theo to visit so often.” 

Loki glanced over at his brother. Thor sat on the edge of the bed, watching his brother with a twinkle in his eye. 

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Yet, I suspect her visits were not solely to check on my progress.” The comment was lighthearted, jesting in its delivery. 

“There is a Midgardian saying about assumptions, brother.” Loki flatly replied, turning back to continue packing so Thor would not see the heat rising on Loki’s cheeks. “I would not dare to presume her intentions.”

“I am not assuming anything, dear brother. Simply pondering…” Loki did not need to look to know Thor wore a smug grin. 

“Pondering, are you?” Loki turned back to his brother with a smirk of his own. “Are you certain you are well? You aren’t one to spend much time thinking.”

Thor laughed, tossing a pillow at Loki. Loki smacked it down to the floor, his own laughter echoing in the room. The sound of Thor’s laughter loosened the knot that had tangled itself around Loki’s chest for far too long.

“Well I’ve not had much else to do as of late,” Thor chuckled, “as I’m sure you are aware.” 

“Well, thank the Norns you will no longer be cooped up in this room—” Loki’s laughter quieted, though a smile remained. “— If for no other reason than you shan’t be forced to think; that is a benefit to us all.”

“Ah, you’ve wounded me!” Thor clasped one hand to his heart, feigning hurt despite the grin that lit up his face. 

Loki’s teasing seemed to be enough to deter further conversation on the matter, at least for the moment. With perfect timing, a nurse came by with the paperwork Thor needed to sign, and after a few signatures the pair were finally free to leave.

Just when the elevator closed, Thor turned to his brother with a pensive smile. “Jesting aside, I am glad you have someone like Lady Theo in your life.”

“Thor–”

“It is obvious that she truly cares for you.” Thor rested his hand on Loki’s shoulder and locked eyes with his brother. “Knowing there is another who will be there for you whenever you need gives me great peace. She is a good friend to you.”

A faint smile crept up on Loki’s face, and he nodded slightly. “She is.”   

Not long after ensuring Thor was settled in his quarters, Loki returned to his own quarters,  content to spend some time basking in the peace and quiet with his latest selection of literature... 

…At least, he had been content to bask in the peace and quiet until a knock on his door threatened the solitude he’d long been craving. 

Internally groaning, Loki set aside his book and pulled himself to his feet. Despite the overwhelming desire to ignore whoever dared to disturb him, Loki dragged himself to the door, rolling his eyes before twisting the knob and pushing it open.

The sight of Theo, a slim glass bottle with amber liquid in one hand and two lowball glasses in the other, wiped the scowl right off Loki’s face.

“Is this a bad time?” Theo asked, the smile on her face dissolving when she caught Loki’s expression. 

“There is never a bad time for you, darling.” Loki stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. 

“Good, because I am not about to drink this whole bottle myself.” Theo sauntered in, plopped down on the sofa, and poured two glasses of what smelled like whiskey. “Figured you’d want to celebrate having Thor home.”

Warmth bloomed in Loki’s chest. He took a seat next to Theo, retrieving one of the glasses and clinking it with hers. “I most certainly am not sad about the development.” 

“I can tell.” Theo leaned back, taking a sip of her beverage. “You look way less stressed.”

“Is that so?”

“Well yeah,” she said, “but it’s understandable that you were stressed. I mean, now that he’s doing better, I will admit your brother did get pretty fucked up. But still, I wasn’t worried about him...”

“…You were worried about me?” Loki ventured, unable to stop himself from smirking at Theo.

She blushed. “I mean…“

Loki couldn’t stop himself from chuckling at the sight of Theo, attempting to hide the pink of her cheeks behind her glass. “So you weren’t visiting to check on Thor.” 

“No…” She shook her head and let out a sheepish laugh. “Thor already had plenty of people checking on him, but you needed someone in your corner too.” Theo fiddled with the glass in her hands, her attention focused on the amber liquid swirling around inside. “I didn’t like the thought of you trying to deal with all that on your own.”

When Theo finally looked at Loki, he saw something new in her bright blue eyes. 

“I am grateful for your support.” He slid over until the sides of their legs pressed together, then wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Though I must apologize for forcing you to spend the little free time you had fretting over me.”

“You didn’t force me to do anything.” Theo fiercely shook her head. “I wanted to be there.”

And whether or not he was ready to admit it out loud, he could at least admit to himself that he wanted her there, too.

Hold onto each other Hold onto each other Hold onto each other Hold onto each other…

[lilsoupboiii]

Marvel Rewatch Easter Eggs, Notes and Other Stuff: Captain America: The First Avenger

- Tesseract located in Tønsburg (future New Asgard)

- Yggdrasil mention

- World Exposition of Tomorrow is an early version of the Stark Expo

- Human Torch cameo/reference

- Peggy also goes to jump on the grenade when Colonel Phillips throws the dummy

- Peggy was ready to jump scrawny Steve’s bones before he got the serum

- First mention of Vibranium

- Tesseract portal to Vormir

- Howard finds the Tesseract, where it’s kept at Camp Leigh until 1970ish

Easter Egg Masterlist

[a-dragons-journal]

I really hate writing posts like this on mobile, but I’m not going to get the chance to write it on desktop for almost a week, so I’m writing this in Google Docs and copying it over and I apologize for any missed formatting errors.

I’m having a real weird time with Frontiers - not bad, necessarily, but weird - and I want to document it to some extent, so here we are. Pretty major game spoilers ahead. Also a quick warning that I am going to get a little mean about trophy hunting; I am aware that on Earth this is a somewhat more nuanced issue (and I really don’t want to get into it tbh), but I am letting myself get emotional here because that’s frankly just not true on Pandora because the situation is different.

This game is giving me a really weird experience, because it’s like… the story is meh until it is not. I’m mostly having a normal time, until I very abruptly am not.

The first round was during the Zeswa clan storyline, when you get into the Lodge. For those who haven’t played or haven’t gotten this far yet, while exploring the Upper Plains and talking with the Zeswa, you learn that the RDA has been poaching animals, hunting and trapping them en masse to ship them or their body parts back to Earth to sell for big bucks, because the people back on Earth will pay massive amounts of money to be able to show off anything Pandoran - often taking whole carcasses, but sometimes just stripping the pieces they can sell and leave the rest to rot. There’s a log from an interrogation wherein they captured a Zeswa and tortured them to try and get them to reveal the location of the graveyard of the zakru, the enormous animals the Zeswa live in symbiosis with, so they can steal the bones and tusks. And when you get into the Lodge, the center of Harding’s poaching operation, there are stuffed animals and animal parts on display as trophies.

I cannot express properly the rage that filled my chest and my throat when I saw that. The outlying camps, with their slaughtered fa’li and aywinzaw in piles, were bad enough. But the Lodge itself, the heads and bodies and bones put on display, animals that were not killed for food or population culls but simply because they could - my throat fills with fire even thinking back on it now. This is not Eywa’s way. This is deeply, deeply wrong.

All right. That’s fine. That’s fine. I can be normal about this. This is a deeper anger than I have gotten out of most media, but it’s fine.

And then there was the second round, during the Kame’tire clan storyline. And let me just say, hoo boy the story very suddenly picks up during the Kame’tire section. There is a segment where you find the place where you and other Sarentu children were held and processed before you were taken to the school the game initially picks up in, where you see what was left behind - cages and shackles the Sarentu were held in, Sarentu toys and clothes and ornaments that were stripped from the children, disinfectant and stark communal showers that were used to strip even their clan’s scent from them. The place is abandoned and empty and hollow, and I… I had to actually take a step back and take a break from it for a minute partway through because I was getting overwhelmed and starting to want to cry, even despite being on call with friends and having them chattering about something unrelated and cheerful in my ear. I felt trapped and frightened and horrified and haunted by memories. And I - look. I am a person that feels a lot with regards to fictional media. I have often said that my emotions are too big for my little body, and fiction is my safe place to feel at 100% capacity where it doesn’t actually have consequences. I am familiar with the emotional impacts fiction can have on me, and they can be big.

I had to actually stop and take a step back and walk away for a couple of minutes and get a snack and engage in an unrelated conversation for a bit to remind myself this was fiction and wasn’t actually happening. I have never had to do that.

And when I escaped that horrible, horrible place and escaped the yavä’ - I came across a Na’vi camp almost immediately and it was horribly jarring, seeing all these people just… living their lives. Talking amongst themselves. Sitting by the fire, sharing food and stories and music. I had to walk back out of the camp and call my ikran just to stroke her head and, in my head at least, hug her and comfort myself for a bit before I could go back in.

And then, after a bit to recover - normal game experience again. Normal level of investment. Normal level of emotional impact.

So… I still don’t think I am Sarentu (or Na’vi of any kind), although the specificity of what hit me that hard makes me pause to wonder for a moment, but hoo boy my alterhumanity related to this world is definitely impacting my emotional experience of this game periodically and it is a wild ride. I am not Na’vi, but being of Eywa, I can live in a Na’vi’s footprints completely enough, at least temporarily, to Know what it is to live this life and walk this path.

That’s the odd thing, about having a hearthome which is so integrally connected that the interconnection is part of the hearthome feelings - I am not Na’vi, but also I know what it is to be Na’vi. I am not ikran, but also I know what it is to be ikran. I am not - you get the idea. I am not, but also I kind of am.

It’s… interesting. And hoo boy it’s a lot in this case. I’ll be fine, but man.

[countrymusiclover]

23 - Forgiveness Isn’t Too Easy

Part 24

The Last Velaryon

Tag list @rise-my-angel @cdragons @kmc1989 @starkleila

Author ask - Should I switch storylines and include a look in Tyrion and Chezney's storyline or just keep focusing on Robb and Haelesa???

Robb’s pov

Chezney and I quickly followed the guard in the direction of my mothers tent where I busted through the flap seeing her sitting down at her tiny vanity table not even looking at me when I entered her room. “Tell me this isn't true. Why?”

She simply answered my question. “For the girls.”

“You betrayed me.” I growled at her.

My mother attempted to say something but I cut her off. “Robb…”

“No! You knew I would not allow it and you did it anyway.”

She sighed with a heavy weight on her shoulders. “Bran and Rickon are captives in Winterfell. Sansa and Arya are captives in King's Landing. I have five children, and only one of them is free.”

“I lost one son fighting by your son's side. I lost another to the Kingslayer, strangled with a chain. You commit treason because your children are prisoners? I would carve out my heart and offer it to the father if he would let my sons wake from their graves and step into a prison cell.” Lord Karstark was standing beside me after he had seen Chezney and I running through the camp to find my mother.

She spoke towards the lord but he could care less. “I grieve for your sons, My Lord.”

“I don't want your grief. I want my vengeance. And you stole it from me.”

She pointed out what her hopes were, but even Haelesa knew better than to foolishly think Tywin would never do something like that. “Killing Jaime Lannister would not buy life for your children, but returning him to King's Landing may buy life for mine.”

“Jaime Lannister has played you for a fool. You've weakened our position. You've brought discord into our camp. And you did it all behind my back. Make sure she's guarded day and night.” I bared my teeth together at her, never expecting her to do something so reckless that it made me think that maybe I’d judged Haelesa a little too harshly.

My mother got up from her seat when I began walking out of the tent. “Robb.”

“How many men did we send in pursuit of the Kingslayer?”

A guard outside her tent. “40, Your Grace.”

“Send another 40 with our fastest horses.” I declared to him before he ran off and I turned my attention back to Chezney. “Go find her. Tell her I wish to speak with her at the edge of the camp line.”

“Right away, your grace.” She gave me a small curtsy with a slight smirk on her lips disappearing from my sight to go locate my lady wife.

Walking down the stairs I saw my father walking through the training yard the morning he would ride to King's Landing to serve as Hand of the King to Robert Baratheon, leaving me to be Lord of Winterfell. Making my way over to my bastard brother Jon I knew I needed to bide him farewell as he going to to going to the Wall and serve for life. “Bran’s not going to die. I know it.”

“You Stark’s are hard to kill.” He responded to me tossing his saddle up and onto his horse.

When he turned back to me I nodded my head at him. “Next time I see ya you'll be all in black.”

“It was always my color.” He smiles, throwing his arms around me in a goodbye hug.

“Farewell Snow.” I hugged him back and we held onto the other for a good minute before he broke it and climbed up onto his horse heading towards the gate.

“And you, Stark.”

Watching him ride off I made my way over to my father who had just thrown his own saddle up on his horse seeing me coming over to him. “Robb, my boy. You are to be the new Lord of Winterfell while I am away. Protect the North like I have taught you.”

“It will be done, father.” Hearing laughter I turned my head to the side seeing Haelesa and Chezney who were giggling about something.

“Just admit that you find him attractive.”

Haelesa stuck her tongue out at her friend. “Never! Why don’t you admit why you were talking with Tyrion Lannister last night hmm.”

“Father, how have you chosen honor over what you truly want?” I focused my attention back to my father who had seen where I was looking. He could see something between me and the seahorse girl but he knew better than to fight the Lannisters.

He sighed, placing one hand on his sword handle. “I was raised to follow orders. My brother was raised to be Lord of Winterfell until he died. Once he died I was forced to know nothing different and marry your mother in his place.”

“So I should bury whatever I feel for Lady Velaryon - excuse me Lady Lannister now I suppose.” I asked him so confused. I knew she could never be mine so my feelings and desire needed to go away.

My father met my gaze deeply. “Try to imagine what you feel for her but let it be another woman. Starks have never forgotten an oath. But I will give you some advice if you break your word, take ownership of it. I’ve made many mistakes in my life and I’ve rarely regretted any of them.”

“Thank you, father..” I uttered the words of our house watching him ride off with Jon. “Winter is Coming.”

Leaning my back against one of the woodlim trees I kept one hand on my sword watching the sun begin to set till I heard the crackling of leaves meaning someone was coming up the hill. The familiar sight of silver hair came through the thick trees before I finally saw my wife, Haelesa. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come see me.”

“I was thinking the same thing when Chezney came and told me you wished to see me.” She admits avoiding my gaze by looking at the laces of her riding boots.

Raising my freehand I put two fingers underneath her chin making her look me in the eye. “I asked you here so I might apologize to you.”

“I thought you viewed me as a traitor. And the only reason I’m here is because there’s the hope of me giving you an heir.” She knitted her brows up at me.

Sending her a sad expression across my face I corrected her words. “I could never utter the words to banish you or worse execute you from my camp. I know your true intentions are to protect yourself and your family. That’s all you’ve ever done.”

“And how do you feel about me doing that while I’m now married to you, young Stark?” She asked me still never calling me by my first name like we had agreed upon so long ago.

Removing my other hand off my sword I cradle her face in both my hands. “I trust you. A part of me has always trusted you. So I know when you feel sorry for keeping a secret from me you really mean that.”

“Yes, but your men are loyal to you. What will they think if their queen isn’t loyal to her own husband?”

Shaking my head I sighed, slumping my shoulders at her. “I’ve already broken an oath myself in case you’ve forgotten, Haelesa. But my father used to say as long as you took ownership of the broken vow and tried to do better in the future than your honor wouldn’t be completely ruined.”

“So what are you saying?” Haelesa questions me still not entirely following me.

Resting my forehead down onto hers I whispered down to her lips. “I forgive you for not telling me the baby was Jaime’s. Chezney made me realize you didn't deserve to be treated that way. So I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?”

“This is a good start but not enough I'm afraid.” She mumbled pulling her body away from mine, making a weak smile cross my face.

“Haelesa, wait a second. I thought we had an understanding now.”

“I'll admit I committed a mistake by not telling you about the baby or about Jaime and me sleeping together. I wasn't married to you during that time. I didn't know what you were truly ever going to do to me while I was named his wife. You don’t seem to understand that yet. You've called me a traitor, Lannister or just not spoken to me when you don't like the things that I've done. So I'm sorry to say a simple apology will not make me try and get back to what we had.” She shakes her head no sniffing back some tears, that she wiped away with her sleeve. “I thought - I thought you'd be different. At least when I was with Jaime he never hid who he was.”

Gently calling her name I wasn't sure what else to do. “Hael, I- I'm-”

“Maybe - maybe I should have ran off with him when he escaped. I - I should go. I promised the Frey girls I'd teach them how to ride horses like a man. You have your duties and I now have my own. I'll see you later tonight.” She softly spoke back to me turning on her heels beginning her wakk down the hill leaving me standing there still in shock.

Love, arranged marriage or not wasn’t an easy thing in this life of ours.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

On The Hunt: Then Two Steps Behind

Summary- 4.7 Alpha Steve x Little One. Steve and Bucky are finding no leads in their tracking, but Fury has a possible lead. T'Challa makes use of the Reader's Little Wolf tracking skills to help locate some of their kidnapped Panthers in Ulysses' camp.

Warnings- violence, mentions of weapons, and shifters being trafficked.

A/N- Thank you so much for everyone sharing and following this story. Any input, questions, or just general thoughts about this verse is welcome! It's pretty inspiring to keep continuing this story. Special shout out to my beta, if you see this, thank you! Dividers made by @firefly-graphics 💙🐺

Chapter Two / Masterlist

Steve scanned over the Howling Commando’s gear, giving a nod of approval. “I don’t see anything we need to switch out, send a message to Stark that we are fine.” Steve told the beta who gave a nod to confirm and turned away to do the task given. Steve was meticulous in checking their gear, knowing that such a thing could be life or death for the team. 

Following the maze of hallways, he soon found Bucky who was hovering over a table, his hands in fists as he pressed down against the wood that was creaking under his weight. Fury eyed Bucky from the other side. 

“If there was something to tell you Barnes, I would give it to you.” 

“All of this is nothing?” Bucky snapped, if the White Wolf was at all showing, Steve knew he would be bristling. 

“Now I didn’t say that I have nothing, just not from this intel you brought me.” Fury, always cool and collected. He tapped on a screen, projecting a picture. “ My sources say it’s not just wolves Hydra is going for. It’s shifters in general.” Steve approached, glancing over the information the projection showed. “And they are willing to use smugglers to get them.” Another tap shifted to another projection, stats, and a face appeared on the screen. 

A face that the Alpha saw made him immediately snarl, Steve baring his teeth at the image. The weathered face with a grim sneer stared back at him. “Ulysses wanted to sell Y/N when they had us. Brock refused but he was willing to pay whatever for her.” 

<We should rip his throat out> The Alpha dropped his own suggestion. 

Gladly.

Fury nodded as if not surprised by Steve’s information. “I’m not at all surprised he would have bought Y/N. He is a kidnapper and smuggler. He stands to make a profit on an Omega Wolf such as Y/N. They are highly sought after because they are hard to control than a Beta or weak Alpha is, not to mention few and far between.” Fury side-eyed Steve as he said this. 

It made Steve’s stomach churn at the thought of someone buying you just to break you. Bucky studied the man as well, trying to place him. “I remember bits and pieces of him while Brock had me. He brought Brock shifters, but so many of them were barely hanging on anymore that we had to…” He stopped talking, dragging in a breath before continuing. “You think we can get what we need from him?” 

Fury shrugged. “It’s more than you Alpha’s are finding now. If you want to pursue him, I can get you over there.” 

“Where is he?” Steve questioned. 

“He is on the edge of Wakanda’s borders right now.” 

Steve glanced at Bucky. “Go visit the King?” 

“Might as well since what we are doing is proving useless for now. I’m going to pack up.” Bucky was abrupt as he left, leaving Fury frowning at the Sergeants departure. 

“Rogers…” He kept his tone low. “I want you to know that Barnes isn’t in a good place right now. I know he is practically your brother but you need to be careful with him in the field, especially with the howling commandos following his orders.” 

Steve felt the Alpha bristle at the implication but it was true. Steve wasn’t about to indulge in the struggles Bucky was facing, how the White Wolf has secluded himself away from Barnes, or the nightmares that had him fighting nothing in his room and Steve had to guard him against hurting himself or anyone else in the vicinity, how his anger and fear about the unknown was causing Bucky to either lash out or shut down vacantly. “I'm well aware Nick, trust me. That’s why we are leaving the commandos behind this time, just Bucky and I will be going to Wakanda.” 

Fury clenched his jaw but gave a nod, relenting to Steve’s decision.

“Y/N, your wolf will just stand out.” T’Challa stated while you prepared to argue at the injustice of being left behind. “Wolves and Omega’s are not common here. Ulysses will know exactly who you are when he sees you.” 

“And you don’t think you won’t stick out like a sore thumb? You are the damn king of Wakanda.” You snapped out, you were feeling irritated at the implication you couldn’t go with the panthers and hurt to be left behind. 

T’Challa didn’t let your outburst phase him, well aware that you were dealing with pain from Steve’s abrupt departure from your life. “You are right, I will. Why I’m sending Okoye to strike a deal with Ulysses, offering to see his “stock” to make purchases. You and I will be listening in as backup, should anything go awry.” 

Your jaw snapped shut in surprise and the Little Wolf uncurled in your mind. <It’s reasonable… Ulysses looked us over extensively with interest, he isn’t gonna forget us.>

“Right now it’s the best we can do Y/N, but I promise you're not going to be left behind, we need you.” 

“Yes, I can be okay with that.” you relented, but a silent thank you passed between you and T’Challa with a look. 

Okoye slid from her seat, sighing at the long spear she typically carried. “So I have to blend in with the outsiders?” 

T’Challa nodded “Head to toe.” He pointedly looked at her favored weapon and she scoffed. 

“This comes with me.” With a twist on the pole, to grow compacted, able to store away should she require it. 

“Fine, but you still need to change. From the leader of the Dora to a wealthy trafficker looking to spend.” 

She wrinkled her face in disgust at what she was supposed to portray. “That can be done.” 

T’Challa laughed at her reaction, turning to you. “Come on, we need to blend in a bit more as well Y/N.” 

You scowled at the brickwork of the building you were hovering around. Inside Okoye got her meeting with Ulysses, making the deal as you and T’Challa hovered in the back. The tall man stood next to you, his eyes narrowed at the street beyond, watching carefully. Your hand pressed near your ear, listening to the conversation go down inside. 

“And what is it you're interested in?” Ulysses voice grunted, muffled around something in his mouth. You could picture him with a cigar between his fingers, leering at the Pantheress. 

Then a tone you  expected rolled through the comm’s, Okoye purring in her response. “Specifics? Youngin’ panthers.” 

“Oh, what are you planning on doing with a bunch of brats?” 

“That is my business Mr.Ulysses, but I can promise you no one will look twice at a young panther here wandering the streets. Good runners.” 

There was a cackle in the comms and it went silent, you felt your heart hammer in your chest that maybe Okoye was caught. You made to bolt for the door but T’Challa’s hand grabbed at you, sweeping you into his hold like the two of you were huddling against one another. His sharp feline scent assaulted your senses as he hushed his voice near your ear. “Calm Wolf, his men are scouting the area for threats.” 

You turned into T’Challa, hiding against him, letting him shield you from sight. The Little Wolf lowered low, growling softly in your mind. Hush, I can’t hear Ulysses. 

<Sorry, I just hate being here and not doing anything.>

I do too. 

A booming man’s laugh came through. “You are ruthless, using the kids. Smart though. Sure, I got some inventory you might be interested in. Gonna cost you though.” 

“Name your price, I will have it ready tomorrow.” 

After a few more exchanges, Okoye hinted that she was leaving. T’Challa tilted his head back towards the street, signaling it was time for you two to leave the back alleyway and retreat with Okoye. 

As you both started out for the main street, Ulysses men came back through, stalking down the alley. Luck was not on your side as you tried to duck from being seen, one of them brushed against you, hard enough to make you stumble and the man lifted his nose, eyes blazing with interest. 

A fucking tracker, of course, this human would employ shifters. “I know you.” He snarled, whirring on you with interest. His eyes blazed at you as he sniffed the air again. “You were that Alpha’s bitch.”

Vibranium blades you kept hidden up your sleeves slipped down into your palm as you twisted to face the shifter, cursing at the luck you were recognized. You were seconds away from activating the bracelets on your wrist. T’Challa slipped out of sight, the men rounding on you taking no interest in what looked like another homeless person wandering the alley. “I have no Alpha.” 

“I can tell, you have that feral look to you, a bitch with no one to control her.” He sneered as he thought he had you cornered. The Little Wolf bristled, readying for the attack of the larger shifter, her snarls starting to build in your chest and escape as you finally revealed your weapons, slicing the tip across the man's face, catching his cheek in a flash, causing him to stumble back in surprise. “You bitch!” He spat while the armor swept across the front of your chest and up around your neck, protecting your throat.

You didn’t give him the time to come at you again, your leg sweeping out to kick at his gut making him double over with his arms wrapped around himself, T’Challa knocked his partner down when the man moved in a rush to help subdue you. He was quickly dropped to the ground while you had your blade pressing against the shifter's neck, pressing the sharp blade in enough to go through layers of skin, your face snarled as it pressed into your attackers. “I don’t need to be controlled.” 

The shifter's scent was sour with fear now, the way you had caught him by surprise. Your Little Wolf was ready to rip his throat out, take out the threat. T’Challa caught the man by the nape of the neck and crushed a handful of herbs under his nose; it was luck that the shifter took a deep, heavy inhale, drugging himself. The fumes were pungent as your attacker's eyes rolled and he was out. 

“Put the blades away Wolf.” T’Challa rumbled out, leaning down to sort quickly through the men's clothing, making it look like a robbery. “No bloodshed today. They will not remember us and we don't want to alert Ulysses that something is going on.” 

You leaned down enough to wipe your blade off and put it away. “What did you give them?” 

T’Challa grinned wickedly as he yanked out their wallets, pulling out the cash and ditching the wallets in a nearby dumpster. “We have more than just vibranium in Wakanda. Our land is rich with medicinal plants if you know how to gather them.” You two went back onto the street, weaving among the people bustling. “When they wake, their memory will feel like fever dreams and have a headache that will make them think they went on a bender and got mugged.” The money he took, he slipped the money to another soul on the street who needed it. “They will be so embarrassed that they won’t breathe a word of this to anyone.” 

You glanced over your shoulder, making sure no one else was following. “Clever.” You muttered while the two of you blended into the crowd, Okoye soon joined them, ignoring them as if they were no one till several blocks away, having been given the all clear sign and all of you piled into a van tucked away. 

“Deal’s in place.” Okoye settled gracefully into a seat while you plopped down, listening to the king and her go over the specifics of when, where, who and how much Ulysses was expecting. 

You could feel your Little Wolf getting ready for the hunt. 

At any kind of exchange of this magnitude, it feels like it should be late. The night time shadows provide places for the most unsavory to slink through, hiding their intentions till they are ready to pump your system full of poison. 

Ulysses set up this exchange at ten o'clock in the morning. The only thing he did like you figured would be to go to a remote location. As the vehicle you were packed into with other panthers let you know, the springs protesting with squeals, you all being jostled in the back. Even T’Challa’s claws were out, digging into the side of the vehicle for stability. Your Little Wolf panted heavily in the muggy heat while you swiped at the sweat creeping down the side of your face. 

Okoye was going over the plans, preparing to let you all out well before reaching the destination with the expectation that the group could finish going the last couple miles, with your Little Wolf using her sharp sense of smell to find the compound's location. Ulysses wasn’t an idiot, he would have his own group checking every vehicle, probably with the same skills you possessed. They were ready though, to mask the scent in the truck, Okoye was confident in that. 

“Y/N, as fast as you all can travel okay? T’Challa is equipped to listen in when I’m ready for all of you to come in.” The stern general glanced at her king. “You have to let me get at least a hold of the kid he is using and try to hold out long enough to find out where else they are keeping people.” Her eyes roved to everyone in the back of the truck. Some of the fiercest shifters you have ever seen, the Dora Milaje was not a force to challenge. “Do all of you understand the orders?” 

A unionized confirmation made you hide a grin, thinking about how your pack mates would be sassing the Alpha right now, but they were as fierce in your opinion as this group. “Y/N?'' Your name came across as having no room for amusement, and you gave a confirming nod to appease Okoye. 

“Good! Stop right here.” She thudded against the driver's end wall and the truck came to a screeching halt, jolting you against T’Challa’s firm side. You distinctly heard the rumbling growl come from him in agitation before loosening his claws from the side. 

Straightening yourself, you popped out of the back of the truck, listening carefully to the sounds around you. Exotic birds and monkeys screamed overhead, which you were used to by now. Bursts of color rose as whatever flock had roosted overhead. The familiar buzzing of bugs and the chittering of other creatures emitted loud, questioning cries. It wasn't till Okoye climbed out and checked in one last time with everyone before she left that things went back to normal. Still loud, the jungle was much like the forests you missed. 

It was when all went quiet did you have to be concerned. Right now, none of you were seen as a threat to the wildlife teaming the area. You hoped that you all could stay that way, it would make your chances of getting to the compound without being caught better. 

“Shuri, we are going dark now…” You heard T’Challa informing his sister in whatever device was planted on him. “And you are going to have to quiet down so I can hear Okoye.” 

Nakia patted an assuring hand against his arm, leaning up to whisper in his ear. You and your Little Wolf felt a pang at the sight of the couple. 

It made you miss Steve, how his presence would have calmed the racing of your heart right now. How he would have checked in with you, his touches would have lingered protectively on you, but it was better. The two of you would have watched each other. 

If only he could remember that time as well as you did. 

The Little Wolf whined, knowing your distractions could cause you harm. You inhaled sharply, getting to work and pushing your mate from your thoughts. 

<Ready when you are.>

A glance at T’Challa sets you in motion, your form quick to shed its human form. Nakia grasped at the clothes of those who shifted and stashed away. The ones who remained were poised on their feet, ready to race alongside. 

The Little Wolf gave a shake of fur after the shift, releasing any of the pent up energy left. Her nose lifted, sharp in the air to sort through the assault of information provided. The air was heavy and damp, making everything cling in particles wherever the water was. A blessing for a tracker, the scents of man and shifters wouldn't fade nearly as fast unless it rained. 

So far the morning sun was shining bright. And she could smell the scent of fear and adrenaline, coating her tongue with a foul taste. 

It was enough to make her spring forward as in a chase, following the trail like it was a string, having unraveled. Everyone followed, well behind to not distract her. Except for T’Challa, the man kept pace with you, feet thudding steadily as you darted through the jungle. The animals who claimed the trees screamed at the suddenness you would burst by, followed by a pack of people and black panthers. But they never silenced, they never feared they were being hunted. 

It provided enough cover that when you skirted around the first of Ulysses' men, they never expected the king to leap over you in a silent attack or the other panthers to silence them. 

Everything about the panthers was stealth while hunting. 

Seconds later you skidded to a stop, the King coming to crouch next to you, his hand resting gently on your back to keep you from continuing. “I see them, they are not hiding very well.” 

Ulysses had let some of his guard down here, not bothering to hide the massive camp so deep in the jungle. Judging from how far they traveled, Wakanda’s borders were not far away. A couple days away on foot if that. 

How could the vigilant panthers miss such a thing? 

“Shuri, note our location.” T’Challa muttered softly. “Do you see anything?” His eyes scanned upwards, searching for how they were hidden. You could faintly hear Shuri’s reply in his ear. 

“Nothing brother. I will test it out some more. So don’t let anyone shoot down my drone.” 

T’Challa cracked a small grin. “I will do my best.” He went silent and you settled down alongside him, focusing on the camp. 

From this vantage, it was all so open. People everywhere doing whatever tasks were assigned to them. The stench was almost overpowering. Fear and remnants of blood, it was saturated into the ground the camp was built on, the Little Wolf kept her ears pinned back in unease. Okoye wasn’t all that far away, an appearance of ease as she talked with Ulysses, the General playing her part well. She never once let it be known she was aware they were close. T’Challa kept watch of her, waiting for her signal. 

“Impressive.”  Okoye’s eyes roamed around the camp while she strode with Ulysses. “Do you move lots of products through?” 

Ulysses was cold as he shrugged. “Enough for you to get what you are looking for, I am sure. Come, I will show you what I have for you.” He gestured his hand forward, Okoye hesitated a moment before flashing him a smile. 

“Shouldn’t you lead the way?” She glanced around and your fur stood up along your spine, a soft uneasy whine making its way up your throat. Something was wrong, it felt wrong. “I do not know the layout of your camp.” 

“And you never will.” Ulysses reached behind him and pulled out a pistol, aimed right for Oyokes chest. From the truck a shot rang out, a scream of the panther driving echoing sharply. “T’Challa thinks he is smart huh?” His voice raised as his finger started to squeeze the trigger, all happening in seconds. “Sending in one of his prized panthers.” The shot rang off, sending T’Challa breaking from cover along with you and the panthers hunting with you. 

Okoye was quicker, the shield Shuri equipped her with bouncing off her forearm she shielded herself and her spear was suddenly in her hand, the metal shooting out to form, knocking Ulysses off balance, the gun slinging away suddenly. 

The metal over your bracelets swooped over you as more shots rang out, the camp suddenly in full combat mode. Panthers snarled in retaliation as they attacked their targets, sharp claws piercing and slashing up men’s bodies. 

T’Challa raced beyond them, Okoye being blown off her feet as a grenade exploded near her and giving Ulysses the chance to evade towards a truck, swinging himself into it to rev the engine. 

The shifters still human stayed in the trees, taking aim with specially made weapons to shoot out anything they could. 

“Shuri, get that drone on that truck,” T’Challa yelled as he reached his general, helping her to stand. 

“I’m fine.” She pushed him away. “Go now. He is close.” Okoye hissed in pain at T’Challa, but he hesitated, unable to leave her just yet. 

You weaved through the fighting, searching for the captured shifters in this camp. The few people that took interest in you, noticing you among the chaos were quickly dealt with as you leaped at them, snapping your jaws at throats and ripping them out. 

It was brutal, quick, and efficient. 

Your nose raced, the smells being sorted in milliseconds till you found what you were looking for. 

Fear, blood, metal, bodies. Panthers always had a scent of the deep jungle tops, misty wet and floral scented. All of it tinged with fear, bitter and sour. Your muzzle wrinkled up at it, jogging to a tent. 

“Who is that?” Bucky was quiet next to Steve, on the backside of the camp. Steve picked up Ulysses scent in the city and they followed it to this camp. The two of them prowled all night, picking up information about what was going on. 

Ulysses was moving shifters through, trucks going in full of shifters they found and leaving in the same way for some other destination. Bucky and Steve were just in the middle of a plan of how to infiltrate the camp when this woman appeared. 

Tall and commanding, she had her driver take her through the front without hesitation. Steve couldn’t believe his eyes as to who he saw. 

Okoye, and if she was here, that meant the Dora Milaje and possibly T’Challa himself were here. “A panther, that must mean there are others.” He pulled back from his hiding spot and tried to scent them. Something familiar was in the air, drawn to its wild sweetness, but he didn’t have the chance to sort it out when Bucky hissed in surprise. 

“They broke cover from the other side of the camp.” 

Steve growled at the suddenness of everything going to hell. Bucky was about to take his chance when he grabbed his brother's arm, pausing him. “Go fast, aim with kill shots Buck, anyone tries using trigger words, don’t give them the chance.” 

Bucky snarled as he shrugged his arm. “I’m fine Steve.” His eyes were hidden as he stepped from hiding and Steve felt the Alpha shake himself off, dispelling the unease of letting Bucky into this. They had seen him struggle with his control. 

<We will stay close> The Alpha assured as Steve bolted out, searching out both Ulysses and Bucky in a sweep of his eyes. 

As much as we can. A boom made the ground shake, Steve had to plant his feet as he found where the next threat was coming from. T’Challa stepped out of the unsettled dust with Okoye wrapped in his arm and a truck was squealing away. 

<There!>

Got him. Steve bolted in a run, preparing to let the Alpha take over when a streak caught his eyes, low to the ground the wolf traveled swiftly, and he would know that run anywhere. You were tracking among the attacking panthers and that made the Alpha stall. 

<What is the Little Wolf doing here?!> Steve changed course, following after you as you approached the tent all the trucks entering the camp earlier would go to. 

He was so far away, Steve yelped a warning as you darted inside, knowing that the tent was loaded with guards all armed with various weapons. Steve skidded inside to see you mid-tackle with one of the mercenaries, your strong jaws around the barrel of his weapon, each snarl had you wrenching your head, scraping your teeth against the metal. Just as fast as he noticed you, Steve assessed where the other threats were located- two on one side, rushing out of their chairs where they were playing cards of some kind and another around the back side of loaded cages, bracing his rifle against the top one to take aim and the one you were currently working on disarming. 

With a lift of his foot, Steve shoved his foot against a wall of empty cages, sending them tumbling over the two mercenaries scrambling to their weapons, his hand slipping against his chest and yanking out a vibranium dagger he carried on him, a gift from T’Challa the last time he was here. The blade raced true to its target, landing in the rifleman's skull and killing him instantly. 

A glance over his shoulder showed you had dragged the mercenary down, unable to withstand your attack anymore while he covered his face with his arms, a weak shield against you. Steve leaped over the cages to grab another mercenary, a punch to his head knocking his senses out and he slumped into dead weight from Steve’s hand. The last one managed to crawl out of the tented area, taking his chances among the panthers. Panting, Steve hauled the last remaining mercenary to one of the cages and slammed him in. 

Finally, it was mostly quiet in the tent, the people in the cages huddling in fear, waiting to see what they would do and there you were. Shifted back to yourself blinking at him, the shield wrapped around your body like a second skin, vibrating with whatever power was built into it. The shock was etched on your face, pain and sorrow quickly melded into a rage. You snarled at him. “What are you doing here Steve?” 

Steve felt himself rising in the challenge as he stepped around the tossed cages, stalking towards you. You looked as fierce as ever, his Little One ready to battle the enemy, but now it was him you were bracing to go against. Your eyes roved over him protectively, like you were making sure he wasn’t injured in any way but kept your touch well away from him. 

“What am I doing here, why aren't you home Little One?” Steve hissed angrily. “Where you are safe?” 

You backed a step like you were whiplashed, shaking your head. “You don't get to call me that Steve. It’s also none of your business.” 

“Are you alone?” Steve hesitated to take another step forward after you purposely backed away from him, out of his reach. “Why isn’t anyone with you?” 

Your chin hitched, your defiant move. Steve could sense you were discussing with your Little Wolf what you must have wanted to share with him. His own Alpha paced frantically because you were so close. Steve tried not to let himself get lost in your scent overwhelming him. It was almost like the first time, heating him from the inside out with the need to be close to you and be able to touch you. <Don’t drive her away Steve.> The Alpha snapped at the man. 

“Yes, it’s just me here, I'm alone now Steve.” You finally started, loosening your fighting stance slightly. “The rest of it is my business. Now help me get these people out of these cages if you are going to stay.” The dismissive tone stung Steve and made his chest ache at how hollow you sounded. 

You simply turned away from him, walking away to continue your mission.

[edgy-ella]

Sonic headcanons: Between the eras

(Link to my first set of sonic headcanons)

Classic Sonic is officially younger Modern Sonic again! This means that all the classic style games take place before Sonic Adventure (or Sonic 4/Pocket Adventure if you wanna feel spicy). The question remains, though—what happened to the classic characters that never made it to the modern games?

Here’s my headcanons:

Mighty ended up as a nature journalist, paralleling how the Chaotix became a detective agency. Ray is his assistant, of course. While they both still travel a lot, their line of work means that they don’t get many chances to interact with Sonic. They often have to stay put in one location for a long time, which is in stark opposition to Sonic blitzing from place to place as fast as he can. Their work occasionally leads them off the grid, which is why they get reported as “missing” like on the posters in Generations.

As a side to this; Sonic, Mighty, and Vector all grew up together (Vector is in concept art for Sonic 1 as a member of Sonic’s band, and I want to give Vector some kind of prior connection to Mighty and not Ray to explain why he’s in Knuckles’ Chaotix). Mighty and Vector had some kind of falling out between Knuckles’ Chaotix and Sonic Heroes, which is why he’s no longer in “the gang.” Whatever it was, they’re both pretty bitter about it, they don’t wanna talk about it, and no one else knows what it was. They will still work together if push comes to shove, but they’re not friendly with each other anymore.

Bean and Bark sold Fang out, the bounty on his head much higher than anything they were getting paid. They used their newfound wealth to anonymously purchase an entire island to themselves—one with an abandoned mine full of all the shinies Bean could ever ask for. Bark is just glad to be able to retire. They’re still wanted criminals, but they’re too busy living the good life to notice.

Fang ended up getting arrested and sent to a maximum security prison. He was initially placed in Prison Island, but escaped when Eggman raided it at the beginning of the Dark Story in SA2. He ended up getting caught by GUN soldiers in the White Jungle and moved to another location while Prison Island was undergoing repairs. Lucky him, because Eggman blew up the island like a day later. To this day he’s not sure if Eggman knew he’d been serving his sentence in Prison Island and wanted him to blow up along with it.

Trip is extremely introverted and simply hasn’t left the Northstar Islands. She’s still there, Amy occasionally comes down to visit, but the rest of the cast is just too busy to pop in and say hi. She’s that one friend you met at summer camp that you struggle to stay in touch with afterwards because she lives so far away.

Honey is still a fashion designer like in the Archie comics, but had to go incognito after being convicted of insider trading.

With all that being said, I think it’d be very funny if the reason the “classic” cast doesn’t show up in the modern games is because they all died offscreen and I totally think we should throw that reasoning at Sega until they put all of them in a modern Sonic game.

[adelheidvonschicksal]

hello :) I don't usually request things but I figured this time I will jajaja- I've had this idea for a while but I wanted to find someone good to do it so I picked you. I had an idea for Denki smut... specifically during a camping trip. Like it's just us and then lil horny boy wants some action ykwim? maybe like by a campfire or while skinny dipping,,,, idk if you take requests like this but thanks for reading anyways lol

Pairing: Kaminari x Fem!Reader

Content Warning: 3rd base smut; vanilla; skinny dipping

Summary: You and Kaminari leave your friend group to go skinny dipping.

Notes: You guys be trying to butter me up I swear, and it works :P I hope you like it! Thanks for choosing me <3

“We should probably head back, yeah? It’s getting pretty dark.”

You laugh, light and honeyed, breaking the rustling of the thickets that annoyingly pull and snag at his pants leg. “I didn’t think you would be scared of the dark.”

“Of course not! But what if a bear sneaks up on us or something?” he comments, slapping away a mosquito from his face. Each bite makes him question why he agreed to stray away from camp with you but then you look at him from over your shoulder with pretty lustrous eyes, and your lips compress into a cute pout.

“That’s exactly why I asked you to come with me. You wouldn’t leave me all alone in the big, scary woods by myself, would you?”

“Like I’d ever leave a lady on her own,” he states with false bravado.  

“My hero.”

As you continue to pace ahead of him, Kaminari finally recalls why he followed you out here as your hips swing with your stride, and the little jean shorts you wore ride up to the crease of your ass and squeeze into your upper thighs, which makes it hard to listen to the right head whenever you make a request.

Eventually, you lead him into a large clearing with a lake in the middle, the one that was the reason for your friend group to come to this specific camping location. It becomes clear to him that your goal was to head for a late-night swim all along as you walk out to the start of the boating dock leading partway out into the water.

“Let’s go swimming.”

“Ah, I didn’t bring my swim clothes with me,” he answers meekly.

“Neither did I.” It’s the smirk on your face that makes him feel hot when you begin to pull your t-shirt over your head, and once it drops to the ground, you move to your jeans. Kaminari blushes, a rough swallow sticking in his throat as you strip yourself stark naked in front of him. Noticing his hesitation, you giggle. “Come on. It’ll be fun,” you say, no shred of insecurity running through you, because why should you be when he’s soaking in your bare breasts and legs, wishing he only had more than the moon casting light for a better look.

You run across the small dock and jump in without even so much as gasp as you leave him to shake away his stun.

“Okay, keep it cool. Keep it cool,” Kaminari mutters to himself, wiggling his fingers to work out the nervousness and overexcitement building in him. He starts with his shirt, easy to go, and he’s pretty confident in his build. He wasn’t the most muscular guy in class, but he thinks he has more than enough to show off to you when it comes to his upper body. It isn’t until he reaches for his drawstring that he catches you still waiting and watching.

“Hurry up,” you tease, and he senses his ears warming from your steady gaze on him as he kicks off his pants.

“Damn. Can’t a man get a little privacy?”

“Well, excuse me!” You cover your eyes to give him a mock-up of privacy out here in the open for anyone to stumble upon. It definitely helps to calm him down, and you laugh as he cannonballs into the water.

“Hey,” you grumble. You catch your revenge with a heavy splash over his face. It causes him to suck in and spit out lake water with a short “blegh”, which only causes you to laugh as he runs his tongue over his teeth to rid himself of the taste.

“Your turn,” he spats back, and you quickly start to swim back from him.

“Let’s talk this out,” you suggest, screaming when he splashes you back, and you try to get out of distance.

“Get back here.”

And the night continues with the two of you enjoying your time in the water until you’re soaked through, hair clinging to your face and your breath huffing out white as the night drags on.

“Getting cold?” Kaminari asks.

And you nod. “Why don’t you come warm me up?” you request, and like always, he finds it hard to resist when you ask in that sultry voice, eyes beckoning him closer.

And when his arms are around your waist, your eyes locked on his, he can’t stop his mind from running, demanding to kiss you, and you beat him to the action by asking, “Aren’t you going to kiss me already?”

Your boldness has him blushing, a bit too dazed to speak as you wrap your arms around him and press your wet bodies together. He definitely can’t complain about following you out here now with your lips settled against his in a sloppy symphony. Your tongue slides against his lips, making each kiss smack and slide.

He hopes you don’t find how hard he gets so fast funny, especially when you pull away and slowly drag your thumb across his bottom lip to wipe away your spit.

You continued to tread close, keeping your arms around him as he slowly and cautiously wrapped his around your waist and pulled your chilled body close to share his heat with you. When you lean in again, he gently interrupts, “Let me do it this time.”

You moan into his mouth, accepting his tongue with eagerness, and sucking to show it. Your hands tangle into wet blonde hair that knots around your fingers, and you can’t help but smile at the groan it gets from the boy with you.

One of his hands falls to gently part your legs and stroke your pussy, and you can feel your stomach knotting as his fingers ghost over your slit and tease you with solid strokes until your mewling breath is being captured into his mouth.

You break away with a gasp as he begins to pump his fingers into you. “You’re full of surprises, huh,” you say, sucking in a moan as his fingers curl inside you. You hold onto his shoulders to keep afloat, and it’s with a chuckle that he licks your shoulder, this once not minding the taste of the lake water that douses your tempting skin.

“I got plenty more if you want, babe,” he confidently adds, and you have to stop yourself from laughing at his joking nature, which isn’t difficult when he’s pressing all your pressure points and running slick fingers knuckle deep into you until your cum begins to mix into the lake.

“Denki,” you mouth out, wanting to return the favor. You squeeze your hand around his cock while keeping the other steady to his shoulder. You didn’t expect him to be this hard already, and it excites you to know you have this sort of effect on him as you press his cock up toward his stomach and rub his throbbing sex.  Even in the chilly water, you can feel how hot and ready it is with each stroke.

His fingers dig into your side, gripping tightly with each squeeze and stroke, and he’s so surprisingly sensitive that you can feel it affecting you as well, enticing you further.

Kaminari whines and tilts his head up. “Cl-Close, god, I’m so close,” he whimpers, eyes repeatedly fluttering. But you offered no quarter, choosing to pick up your pace until you sense the warm stream of his arousal pouring out.

You’re both left relaxed, peaceful, and cleansed as you tread in the water together, completely blissful, and oblivious to the world around you.

“We should probably head back,” he suggests, his arms still tightly slung around your waist. You’re too busy still enjoying the night and the heat radiating from him to head back to camp so soon.

“Let’s stay out here a few more minutes,” you suggest; and as always, he has a tough time saying no to you.