#winter solider ship

[liminal-zone]

Hey 👋

Favourite falcon and winter soldier scenes??

It would be too easy to post The Sacred Texts here but this scene is so important to me. Bucky cosplaying as the Winter Soldier to Zemo's protection and delight? I'll never be over it.

[iwasmadetobeasoldier]

👋

Fave falcon and winter soldier series scenes??

OKAY STRAP IN!

Considering I have only seen the first three episodes, but I have a good grasp of the show, I will answer from those:

Bucky X Sarah 🥰🥰🥰 this man needs a girl and it might as well be that sweetheart. Plus Sam would be ticked-

2. The opening Winter Soldier scene where Bucky is having flashbacks. Just- Winter Soldier, my man. Sebastian Stan is destroying it.

3. Just- this. Bucky being happy and soft, I cannot. He deserves a break. And the fact that he's actually sleeping.

4. And...this moment I was trying not to laugh because so freakin awkward- (FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING DO NOT TAG SAMBUCKY)

Anyway- but I love this scene.

5. ALIENS ANDROIDS AND WIZARDS! Good lord, I love this. So silly and just what I needed.

[ravenromanova]

My favorite couples 🖤❤️

[atzinbyvalentine]

#winterpanther #tchallaandbucky

T'Challa travels back in time to prevent Hydra from seizing a powerful vibranium shipment. He thought it would be quick and easy, but being a black man and "weird" in the 40's decade would only get him into trouble, before it became clear how rich he was. Only Sergeant Barnes and Captain America help him navigate the old New York, especially "Bucky", who was not the disturbed Winter Soldier who tended goats in the border village. Flirty and handsome, like the brilliant soldier that only Steve Rogers remembered, but now, the king of Wakanda also saw that side of him.

Senses clouded, but with a knowing smile on her lips, she approached James. He put the glass of whiskey back on his desk, dedicating his concentration to observing the man's new arm, and how he enjoyed healthy metal as part of his body.

"It's been a long, long time" sounded faintly from the nearby player, almost the same as the time when the two of them were alone in that room, almost a century ago.

"Do you want to brand new your arm, James?", the king approached the soldier, extending a hand for him to take it.

"Feels familiar," he took T'Challa's hand, trying not to show his blush with his downcast eyes.

"I feel the same".

[superkitty21]

Fleurie and The Civil Wars in my stucky playlist in 2014 🤝 Fleurie and The Civil Wars in my loustat playlist in 2024

Time is truly a flat circle

[killfortune]

𝑰𝒄𝒆 𝑺𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 🌸

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Determined to bring Zoro some holiday cheer, you drag the reluctant swordsman ice skating on a winter island.

He's just on my mind in a fluffy way, instead of smut, for once .

౨ৎ Zoro had made it clear from the start—he didn’t care for the holidays. The decorations, the singing, the overly cheerful atmosphere—it wasn’t for him. But when you practically dragged him off the Thousand Sunny and into the bustling, snow-covered market of a small winter island, he didn’t put up as much of a fight as you’d expected.

"You’re impossible," he muttered as you thrust a pair of ice skates into his hands, your face lit with excitement.

"And you’re grumpy," you shot back, grinning. "But that’s not going to stop me."

Zoro grumbled the whole walk to the frozen pond, but the moment you stepped onto the ice, your laughter was enough to make him pause. You wobbled, arms flailing as you tried to find your balance, and he couldn’t hide the smirk that tugged at his lips.

"You're terrible at this," he said, stepping onto the ice like it was solid ground.

"Show-off," you huffed, sticking your tongue out at him.

Despite his protests, Zoro ended up catching you more than once, his strong arms steadying you every time you started to fall. And though he tried to hide it, there was a softness in his eyes, a quiet amusement as he watched you skate circles around him—literally and figuratively.

By the time the sun began to set, casting the snow in a golden glow, Zoro wasn’t grumbling anymore. He’d even managed a small, rare laugh when you nearly toppled over for the fifth time.

"You’re lucky I like you," he muttered, helping you off the ice.

You grinned up at him, your cheeks flushed from the cold. "I know. And admit it—you had fun."

He didn’t answer, but the faint smirk on his face and the way he slung his jacket over your shoulders as you walked back to the ship said enough.

Thank you 🌸...

Ahhhhhhhh I love Zoro sm . Also, my consistency ?? Hope it'll last 😛 (it probably won't)

[jymwahuwu]

I was wondering. . What if scenario where darling finally escaped jing yuan by dying and jing yuan had felt all emotions at once anger, furry, sadness, despair, agony. He just cant move on from darling he waited and waited for her next reincarnation and. . Finally after so long of waiting she was finally here standing, breathing and alive

And his not so kind once he kidnapped darling once more and had locked her on his (their) shared bedroom then he just basically fucks darling to the hell and back after so long and he makes her cum and darling felt overstimulated and had kept crying to him to slow down and trying to push him away because who in the right mind would suddenly pull a strange onto some person's house then fucks them into oblivion?!

(Basically idk why im horny or maybe its because i have a period idk anymore-)

From Cloud anon!

thank you cloud anon<3 hesitant to write this…but i love the thirsty ending 🫣 for Jing Yuan, if his clingy and sweet side can't keep you… he doesn't mind getting rough…?

CW: yandere, angst, non-con, kidnapping, overstimulation, (mentioned) death in the past

(The relationship between the reader here and Jing Yuan’s past life is described in a rather vague way. Please DON’T send me requests and comments about angst and take revenge on yandere. I’m tired of receiving those 😭 Please read the rules.)

That's a really rare concept for long living species; life blooms in the spring and withers in the winter. Jing Yuan placed flowers on the coffin, and… still… worked and lived as usual, arranging Luofu's daily affairs at the seat of divine foresight. People whispered- they said, Look. The general is so ruthless. His only lover in centuries had withered like a flower, and he was unmoved.

Jing Yuan knows that he can still live as usual, but there is an empty gap in his heart, which often aches, but he still chooses to keep you in his heart instead of letting time pass by. No loss can cause Jing Yuan to stagnate, he just lives with wounds. He regretted not leaving more holographic records and replayed the few videos you had, over and over again. "mm- Jing Yuan-" Your lips parted slightly, a record of a time when you were so annoyed that you blocked the camera with your hands and giggled while eating ice cream. That was - that was when you liked him, right? The general sometimes wonders - are you tired of him pestering you like that? He apologized, apologized, apologized bitterly - but you wouldn't hear it again. In the end, he still couldn't keep you, you flowed away between his fingers like floating sand. What had hundreds of years left for him?

Reincarnation - Jing Yuan really found you, in another galaxy. In the dim light, you are standing on the street, laughing and chatting with your friends. A familiar frown and a sweet smile, and when talking about interesting topics, the clear and sweet laughter leaked out. Similar facial features, similar movements and expressions are the imprint of the same soul. Jing Yuan suppressed the urge to take you away immediately, knowing that he must first find out your identity in this life. He removes every possible obstacle and takes you away.

Locked up in a room, in the general's mansion. Since you didn't like being able to travel freely among the stars in your previous life.

To you, you who have no information, this is really the cage that abruptly descends. Be sent to the Xianzhou ship by the people of your planet. Your hands are locked with a bunch of locks made of solid space material, but they are wrapped in plush fabric as if to prevent your wrists from getting hurt. The burly man with long white hair, said to be a general named Jing Yuan, caresses your body desperately - desperately. Lots of sticky, dazzling kisses. His tongue dipped into your mouth to search. Tears…tears? This mysterious man doesn't shed tears when you look at him, it's like the tears have dried up. Your thighs and calves were tied together and spread apart, forcing you to expose your most private parts and squirt on his thick fingers for hours. Orgasm is no excuse to stop. After your struggles and twitches, those fingers didn't slow down at all. The cock is buried deep inside you without any suspense after the warm-up is completed. The tight walls contracted and the liquid spread outward.

You are confused - confused, orgasming in pleasure, wanting to push him away (but your hands are tied), asking who he is and why he treats you like this while still maintaining your senses, and all you get is silence. It was the silence of not wanting to repeat the old dreams. From behind, his entire crotch is pressed against your ass, and even your hands are pressed by him, rocking and pounding you back and forth, occasionally kissing your cheek in a daze. Face to face, staring into your eyes, the lower body is closely connected. On top, you were forced to ride him, swinging your waist. From the side, a strong arm lifts one of your legs and slowly inserts it. In front, sucking and servicing that cock for hours. Seed and fluid oozed from the connection. There are two trembling vibrators stuck to your nipples. What a mess.

After making up for some of the love he hadn't had in hundreds of years, the general felt more at ease. Jing Yuan's hands wrapped around your shoulders and waist. You wanted to hate him so much- hate him, but he read you bedtime stories and space. He prepares rich meals for you, toys to relieve your boredom, and kisses your forehead. He promises to take you out, but not now.

Not now.

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

rly went from lighting fires, making noise and eating tasty food to honor and aid the wandering souls of the dishonored dead, celebrating Saturn's specific brand of Crazy and trying to avoid the Wild Hunt

to lighting fires, making noise and eating tasty food (???maybe not) bc some guy tried to light the government on fire in England or something

to eating tasty/special food, making a CRAPton of noise and memeing about lighting fires, to honor, mourn and hope over the doomed gay love of the fully batshit crazy Archangel of Saturn and a ghostly hunter who is a child of Cain and literally cant stop hunting. currently he's stuck in heaven. trapped in sky wants to leave.

humanity is weird

They’re celebrating destiel with fireworks and bonfires in the uk that country is lightyears ahead

[buckyalpine]

Imagine being obsessed with Bucky's nose. Every other girl fawns over his eyes, his lips, his dimple chin, his arm, his chest, then there's you. You’re always talking about how adorable his nose is. It’s so perfect. 

You love when he smiles because he does this little scrunch and its the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

He doesn’t know how to act when you gush over how cute you think it is. You’re not even together so he doesn’t know what to do with himself other than blush deeply and shy away from you. 

It’s all fine until  the rest of the team catch on and all he can do is grumble over how he doesn’t have a cute nose. The only person who can get away with it is you. It really is the cutest nose ever so they make sure he hears it every second of the day. 

“Awww look, he’s doing that lil scrunchy thing again!”

“Shut up Wilson”

“He’s like a bunny when his nose twitches” 

“Shut up Stark”

“Y/n’s right, it’s adorable”

“For fucks sake, not you too punk”

“He’s right Mr. Barnes”

“I’ll ship you back to Queens, kid”

“Adorable”  *boop* You walk by and lightly tap his nose, smiling at the way his cheeks blush immediately after, a goofy smile tugging at his lips. Everyone breaks out into shit eating grins when he doesn't give you a snarky retort, looking back at you with puppy eyes instead. As soon as you disappear around the corner, he glares at them, flipping them off while they all cackle. 

“Not. A. word” 

His mind turns into ABSOLUTE MUSH when you give his nose a peck, unprompted, just when you feel like it. He then breaks out of that trance and contemplates on wearing his Winter Solider mask again when others on the team try to do the same, just to fuck with him.  

I mean, its adorable, can you blame them? 

Anways, idk why I wrote this, I was just thinking about his nose, of all things. 

[the-universal-sun]

On what age range does Stan regress? And also what type of agree gear does be use? Just politely asking as a fren :3

Yes! Thank you friend for the ask! There’s going to be more coming this way because I’ll have entirely too much time on my hands in the next few days! So please enjoy this too!

Can you guys tell what book I apparently really like?

I don’t think there’s a solid age he regresses down to, like consistently, I think it’s around the 2-5 mark, unless something happens or he’s feeling extremely distressed, then he regresses down younger. Which, in that case, means he HAS to have someone take care of him. Which is probably going to be Ford, he’s the only one he can really trust to care for him in the way he needs when he feels that young.

As for gear, it depends.

If Fiddleford is his caregiver (and even though this would be in the early 80s we are going to be anachronistic. This is fiction we can take liberties) then he’s getting at least one pacifier. Fidds probably made it for Stan so he doesn’t mess up his teeth even more, and he probably made it to have a cute little nickname spelled out. I like to think Fidds uses food/southern nicknames for Stanley when regressed, so think something like “Pumpkin” or “Junebug”. He does have his “Poindexter” plush that he’s had since he was 19, but Fidds does win him a really big Duck plush when the fair comes to Gravity Falls. He has some sippy cups because he has a tendency to tilt the cup all the way up and pour his drink all down his face and clothes. He really only has some footie pajamas for when it gets to be winter up there. It’s not easy to come by someone who will custom make clothes in gravity falls, especially nothing like the kind of clothes Stan wants. So he mostly settles for some softer clothing with fun designs and patterns. Nothing vibrant that’ll hurt his eyes. Sweats and grandma sweaters mostly. Fidds makes sure he has a lot of paper and coloring books with as many crayons and markers as he wants. He loves to color and draw. He also has some blocks, a lite brite for when the lights needs to be off so his eyes can rest, play doh, and fighting robots to name a few. He has a few story books that Fidds will read to him. Fidds wants to spoil him, but he knows that he can’t buy Stan everything he wants to, so he does what he can (for now…)

If Ford is his caregiver (we’re doing Grunkle Ford for now) then he is going to do his best to spoil Stan with all he wants as much as possible. From buying stuff online (the internet is marvelous!) to making/inventing it. Ford’s got Stan enough pacifiers stashed around the ship and later shack to have a different one every day. He’s getting Stan sippy cups of all kinds of patterns and designs. it’s easier than cups for him if he’s got dentures since he likes to take those out. He’s got one bottle for the times he’s feeling extra small. He’s got some nice and warm footie pajamas for when they’re in the Arctic, and some lighter ones for more general use-sometimes his brother just needs a lazy day where he can wear what’s basically pajamas. Those kinds of footies are going to be the kind that are animal themed with the ears and tails-Ford thinks they’re so cute. He’s also got some nautical themes pajama sets for the summers spent in Gravity Falls. That’s not even accounting for all the soft handmade sweaters Stan’s got from Mabel that he wears-his favorite having dinos on it-and the soft pants and shorts he feels more comfortable wearing now that his secrets out in the open. I’ve already mentioned Poindexter, that’s a staple for any kind of regressed Stanley, and I mentioned in a few posts Shanklin 2, the stuffed Opposum Ford gets Stan after finding out he’s barely got any Little stuff. He will give Stan all the toys he had back in Jersey and all the toys he’s ever wanted. Legos, blocks, slinkies, playdoh, etch n sketches, fighting robots, hard to break tea sets, coloring books, fancy crayons (This is art, it deserves the best!), anything Stan looks twice at really. He goes a bit overboard, but he’s just trying to make up for all the years he’s missed out on. Also Goodnight Moon, can’t forget that book. That’s Stan’s favorite out of the multitude of books Ford reads to him.

Now if it’s just Stan regressing by himself? He only allows himself the bare minimum. He has Poindexter, an old onesie he allowed himself to buy a few years beforehand, and old and worn pacifier, some crayons, coloring books, blank paper, Ford’s old coat that he likes to wrap around himself when he misses him, a sippy cup, and Goodnight Moon. He feels guilty letting himself indulge. He feels ashamed to be acting like that, a child, to be needing his paci and sippy cup, even in the privacy of his own home, even though he can’t help it. So without anyone there to tell him it’s okay, he doesn’t allow himself to indulge or to spoil himself like he is when he’s being taken care of.

[tmaliii]

watching winter solider for the first time and i am starting to get why ppl ship him and steve…

[atzinbyvalentine]

Winterpanther and Bucky sketches

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 10: ~

Dream a Little Dream, For Me:

It's time for Gibbo to have some of the spotlight. This was going to be a series of mini-chapters following everyone's dreams, but Gibbo's stuck with me the most.

Part 11:

'...r...li....e...'

'Char...lie...'

'...Charlie...'

Gibbo shot up from his bed, which was just a mountain of spare pillows he needed to keep his head elevated. A voice called to him. One he knew and thought he'd never hear again. It was sharp in tone yet spoke as a comforting whisper. He was still in the shipping container. A small break in the doors exposed faint sunlight. It was warm. The cold winter air was gone. He couldn't see his breath.

'...Charlie...'

Gibbo moved and, with a tendril, opened the doors. He wasn't on the rig. The container sat in a field with overgrown grass and dandelions. A small breeze picked up, sending the dandelion tufts in all directions. Birds were singing their songs in the trees. Rabbits moved in the grass. The sky was clear, with no clouds for as far as the eye could see. He didn't know where he was, but it was peaceful. At first, Gibbo didn't want to leave the makeshift bedroom. He felt his body would ruin the imagery. To him, it was heaven. She called to him again.

'...Charlie...'

The voice was a beacon. Gibbo moved through the grass, practically hypnotised. It was her voice. His sweet Elanor. She was here. This really must be heaven. Yes. Gibbo must have died peacefully in his sleep. After several 'steps' from the centipede-like legs used to keep him moving and balanced, the infection melted away, along with all of Gibbo's worries. He was happy. The literal weight of the flesh vanished into nothing more than a puddle behind him, disappearing into the Earth. He wasn't in his uniform, but his casual attire, which was a striped green and white polo shirt and bell-bottom jeans.

A figure came into view. A blur slowly formed into a shape. A woman in a flower patterned maxi-dress stood with her back turned. Long flowing ginger hair, lighter than his, moved with the breeze. Gibbo stopped. His heart racing. A smile formed on his face. He had to double-check, but there was no denying it. He moved forward. He wanted to run, but he couldn't. His legs felt heavy, but that didn't stop him. Gibbo reached out a hand.

'Elanor.' His voice was a muffle, like he was submerged in the oil that infected him, but he didn't seem to notice. His hand fell on her shoulder. Elanor turned, but before Gibbo could see her beautiful face, she vanished. Simply turned into dust and was gone with the wind. Particles landed in his hand. Gibbo's smile, which was known to light up an entire room, faded. He looked at his palm. At the dust. It turned into the oil The Shape resided in. That hideous black, green, and purple glow cast a look of fear in his eye. The field around him began to melt. The backdrop turning into Engineering. The loud hisses from the pipes that were ready to burst. The cold air ran a shiver across his body. His clothes turned back into orange boiler-suit. The oil pulsated, then froze into a firm solid, and pierced Gibbo's hand like a stalagmite. It grew as his veins turned black and began to spread through his forearm. It was fast. Gibbo couldn't do anything. His scream still muffled and drowned out with the noise. The Shape reached his eyes and turned them black. He cried oil, skin discoloured, and his hair began to fall out.

Not again. Not again.

His eyes scanned to the left. Eleanor was there again. He tried to reach out, but the oil froze him in place until everything went black.

'CHARLIE!'

Then he woke up.

Light shone through the doors. Gibbo hurried and shoved them open. His mind hadn't caught up with reality. He thought he was still in a dream. He wanted to be there. In the field. To be human again. Instead, he was stuck on Beria, watching the sun slowly rise in the East. He was still a mass of flesh with no arms and those legs that were once his bones.

Gibbo couldn't cry. He was empty. All he could do was find comfort in the chain he stored in his body for safe keeping. A tendril sprouted from his side, and he gazed at Eleanor's picture. The sight of her calmed his nerves. Was it for the best she wasn't here? How could she even look at him? How could his mother and son look at him? What was he going to tell them? Would he even be able to see them again? The questions began to consume it. Until...

'Bad dream?'

Addair sat on his container. Gibbo didn't notice at first, but after seconds ticked by, an ugly feeling came over him. Rennick might be in charge, but Addair ordered him to go and check the drill. If you count ordering as grabbing hold of his uniform and shoving him in the direction he needed to go. Because of him, he was infected. Maybe the slaps he gave Rennick should have also been directed to Addair? Both were his superiors. Both were shit people.

A part of Gibbo wanted to smack Addair into next Tuesday for what he did, but he just couldn't. He wasn't that type of man. He didn't feel bad for hitting Rennick. However, he didn't want to make it a regular occurrence to his character. Whenever he's let his bottled anger get the best of him, either himself or something has gotten hurt. Only Douglas knows he's the reason there was a large indentation on one of the pipes that lost a screw. It only took one punch, and Gibbo walked away with a bruise.

'Same. I-'

'What do you want, Addair?'

'Am I supposed to want something?'

'The only time you talk to me is when you want something.'

'I just want to talk. No dramatics.'

'...Fine.'

To Addair, that was an invitation to move from his container and stand beside Gibbo, which just made him uncomfortable. It's like he was trying to get under his mostly non-existent skin. He turned his attention to the sea's high tide. 'I never thought you would've given Rennick a kickin'. How did it feel?'

Just answer his questions and he might go away.

'Good,' Gibbo answered curtly. 'It was a long time coming. Surprised you didn't get involved.'

'I think you made your point, well enough.'

Well, this was awkward. Caz made it look easy from afar. They didn't have a beer to share or darts to comment on. Both were too much of the polar opposite to find anything to talk about.

Except for one thing.

As Addair waited for Gibbo to talk, he noticed the chain. Before, he would have swiped it from him to tease and stress the poor man out, because he was the 'big man' who could do whatever he wanted to little Gibbo, who lacked a backbone. Yesterday was something of a wake-up call.

'She's pretty.' Gibbo's eyes widened. He pulled Eleanor's picture close to his body as the tendril began to retract. 'What's her name?'

Isn't it sad? These two men have been working on Beria for six years now, and neither knew anything about each other's family.

'Eleanor.' A pause. Gibbo could feel the anger fade, but he wasn't going to be polite. He hoped to never speak to Addair after this, despite that being impossible. 'What about yours?'

'Jennifer.' The way Addair said her name, she was a Goddess in his eyes. 'Married for 13 years now.'

'And you have, what, four boys?'

'That I do. You?'

'I have a son. Ma looks after him when I'm out here.'

'Looking forward to see them again?"

'Of course. But,' he tried to laugh. 'Fuckin' look at me.'

'Don't get yourself worked up, Gibby. You're not the only one thinking that.'

He didn't want to admit it, but Gibbo knew he was right. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to get home. Something everyone was feeling, infected or not, but he was scared. What if his mum and Jackie run away in fear? He'd didn't want to be alone. They were all he had left.

The sound of Rennick opening his container ended their conversation. Was it productive? It was a start, at least. They watched their manager quickly acknowledge them before wandering off to Accommodation. Other crew members could be seen in the corridor gathering up their belonings. Addair turned and began to follow Rennick. 'Roy better have made bacon today,' he muttered.

Gibbo watched, then looked at the sea. One last vision of the field sprung into his mind. He closed his eyes and waited for it to pass. Eleanor's voice called to him as he began to turn in the Water Tanks. Her voice comforted him as his bones cracked, and his body turned inside out and expanded. That was before the rage he bottled up began to boil. He felt it, and it was why he pleaded for Douglas to stay away. With Finlay, he just knew something was going to happen, and his only option was to scare her away. 'Who did you hear in The Shape?'

Addair paused and turned back. Silence lingered. The pair locked eyes. He tried not to look venerable. Bad enough he cried in front of O'Connor.

'I heard my boys laughing.'

'And your dream?'

'Back home with the wife and kids having Christmas Dinner. The food melted into oil and The Shape infected me again. They...' He sighed. 'They ran away.'

More silence.

'I heard about your son. I'm sorry.'

Addair's eyes softened, caught off guard with Gibbo's words. The man can try and act tough and superior all he wanted to the men here, but his children were his soft spot. He loved them, and he would happily burn the world to keep them safe. He just hoped they knew that. 'Thanks.' Using his tendrils, Addair grabbed onto the catwalk and vanished into Accommodation.

Dobbie awkwardly shuffled by him and appeared on stairs to yell.

'You coming Gibbo?!'

'Aye!'

[remembrancersticky]

I had a shower epiphany a few weeks ago and have just been working on cranking out this oneshot. Oh, I had so much fun with this. Thanks to @squishyowl for the dividers! They are very pretty!

You get dragged along for a fishing trip, scent a space wolf, and he carves your name onto his (metaphorical?) heart. Fenrysian is just Norwegian here for the sake of simplicity. Very fluffy given this is 40k. TW for hunting, non-sexual nudity, and cannon-typical violence. Asmundr art here and here.

Space Wolf OC(Asmundr) x Serf!Fem!Reader - SFW - 2.8k Words

The world of Silġ was not the coldest you had ever been to. But it was still the thickest part of winter on this side of the planet, and you could feel the moisture of your breath catch and freeze against your eyelashes when the wind shifted.

You waddled behind the three wolves you served today, waylaid by the heaviest furs and boots you owned and the sled-cart you pulled along behind you. The blizzard that had raged for the last month ended a few days ago, though the warp storm that trapped your ship here had not. The sky still sputtered out a sporadic scattering of snow, powdering the dense ice on which you tread.

The three in front of you wore no more than training armor and pelt. You were envious of their enhanced thermo-regulation as you flexed your fingers to stave off the chill that had seeped through your thick mittens.

“Here,” the venerable veteran, Ægir, announced, stabbing his chainsword into the ice.

You slowed as you caught up to the group and looked about. You were the only thing besides flat ice for several kilometers in any direction.

“Finally!”

The youngest, Asmundr, was not known to keep his opinions to himself at the best of times. He was brash and stubborn in every aspect of his life. He was the one that insisted you join them on this venture.

The company and ship’s crew were trapped on Silġ until the warp storm passed. You had already been stuck more than several weeks and many of the younger warriors were antsy for activity beyond their regular training. And, while rations were not depleted, it did no harm to secure supplementary provisions while they were available. Ergo, the Wolf Lord had allowed the formation of a few small hunting parties.

While you assisted the entire pack as your services were needed, Asmundr had all but named you as his personal serf. Not that he had asked anyone in particular, nor would he ever be granted a personal serf given his rank and status if he had. He was simply dogged in requesting your time, specifically. Not that you minded spending so much time with him; he had grown on you quite a bit, and you enjoyed the stories he would regale you with as you cared for his armor.

And so, here you were. Accompanying the small expedition on their fishing trip. You had given up on getting an explanation for exactly what you were meant to do beyond ferry equipment or attend to whatever unfavorable task may arise. Frankly, it was simply a nice change of pace from the monotony of the last few weeks, nice to be away from the stagnant air of the ship, and you were thankful to have been allowed to attend.

Hodr swiped his boot along the ground to disturb the thick layers of snow and reveal the solid ice beneath. Though not as old as Ægir, the scars upon his face told a story of numerous battles fought with unfettered ferocity. He was cold, stoic, but on occasion you glimpsed something wild lurking deep within his eye.

After stomping solidly on the ice without so much as a crack, Hodr gave a nod to Ægir, who activated his chainsword.

Still stuck in the ice, the blade began throwing up shards of ice and compact snow. You turned slightly and covered your face with a mitten to prevent anything from lodging in your eyes. You felt the pitter patter of debris against your form suddenly disappear. Looking up, it seemed Asmundr unthinkingly shifted his position to effectively shield you from the onslaught.

“Mortal,” Hodr called, as the roar of the sword died down. “Bring the pick and shovel.”

You pulled the tools from the sled and made your way to the hole-in-progress. In order to support the weight of three space marines (and especially the earlier stomping), the ice was undoubtedly thick. This pass with the chainsword had not even been close to reaching the water below. Hodr reached down to grapple with the large slab of ice that had been cut away while you worked on extricating the smaller shards. Once the site was cleared, Asmundr gently pulled you a step back as Ægir began his next series of cuts. This process repeated three times before a sufficient opening was formed.

Standing, you wiped the snow off of your knees and pushed the ice shards nearest the opening away with your boot. Suddenly, you felt something thick and heavy land across your back and weigh down on your shoulders. You were almost embarrassed about the surprised yelp you let out, but it was worth it to hear the youngest of the wolves let out a full bellied laugh.

“I trust you to keep this warm for me, vennen min!” Asmundr’s voice bounced with mirth behind you. You rearranged the large pelt he had thrown on you as you turned to face him. And quickly decided to look anywhere else as he undressed to the fullest extent possible.

“O-Of course, my lord.” You elected to keep your head pointed towards the sky as you extended your hands to take the remainder of his clothes. You could clearly hear the other two wolves snickering behind the sound of blood rushing through your ears. It did not seem nearly as cold out as it did just a few minutes ago.

Asmundr placed the wad of clothes in your hands with a smirk before leaning into the sled to fetch his polespear.

“Be ready, brother,” Ægir said as he nudged Hodr bodily. “You’ll have to make up the pup’s slack.”

The young pup bristled in agitation before he sharply pivoted on his brothers with a note of forced laughter. Coincidentally, you suddenly received a full view of all his glory.

“Ha! Afraid you’re not gonna be able to keep up, old man?”

You forced your eyes not to wander below his ribs, which was very difficult as he stood with his chest puffed out and fists confidently resting on his hips. Your face felt so hot that you thought the ice would melt under your feet and swallow you whole.

Despite your years in service to the Vlka Fenryka, you doubted that you’d ever understand just how…comfortable they seemed to be in their plain skin. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact they were Astartes, specifically. You’d imagine it would be difficult to feel vulnerable in any state with the physique of one of the Emperor’s Angels.

“Worried that you’ll drive the best game away in your haste.” Hodr’s voice sounded suddenly closer than you anticipated. Your heart jumped when you felt his hand reach around from behind you, lifting your chin to look Asmundr in the eyes and gently squishing your cheeks together. “It just won’t do if there isn’t enough to go around.” The narrowing of the younger wolf’s pupils was almost hidden by the steam billowing from his flared nostrils. “We can’t have thralls of skin and bone.” His whisper tickled your ear, sending a shiver shooting up your spine.

“I do not leave her wanting,” Asmundr snarled, closing the distance and gripping Hodr’s wrist tightly. You could hear something creak beneath your chin, but the grip on your face never tightened.

“Prove it.” You could hear Hodr’s grin as he finally released you.

Oh, something in Asmundr’s eyes sparked as he threw his brother’s hand away. He spared you a brief glance as he squared his shoulders and quickly cracked his neck.

“Time me!” Asmundr yelled back to Ægir as he raced to the opening and jumped into the abyss.

The air was pregnant with silence for a moment.

“Well,” Ægir laughed, rough and gravelly, “He should be plenty motivated now!”

Ten minutes. It had already been ten minutes.

A space marine could hold his breath for approximately twenty-five minutes, or so you’d been told.

You had heard from one of the company’s Kaerls that she had once heard a story of a chapter that regularly held their breath for the better part of a standard hour. You thought it sounded a bit outlandish, but you prayed now it was true as the minutes continued ticking on.

The first several minutes were spent in a bit of an awkward silence. Or, at least, you felt it was awkward. You busied yourself by meticulously folding Asmundr’s clothes and running an inventory of the little equipment in the sled before cleaning the hole of any lingering debris. You noted that Hodr’s gaze seemed to return the distant tree line frequently while Ægir whittled away on a piece of bone.

“It’s been ten minutes.” The booming voice of the veteran seemed to rattle through your chest, and you nearly lost your footing at the sudden announcement.

 The undignified sound you made as you recovered your stance drew a chuckle from the eldest wolf.

“I’m curious,” Ægir said, pointing his knife in your direction. “What do you suppose the pup’s hunting for right now?”

You stared blankly at him.

“Fish, my lord?”

That veteran laughed, tried to control himself, and began laughing some more before he started coughing.

“You’re not wrong, thrall,” he conceded. You watched a flock of dark birds chitter and flee their roost in the distance. So far away they were like a smear against the sky.

“You know,” he started back up, dropping his gaze to return to the bone figure he was making. “I was out on campaign with the pup.” A thin flake fell away from his hands. “And it was fierce, to be sure. Well, while we were holed up in some throne-forsaken pit, the daft boy starts singing. Badly, mind you, and quiet, but singing nonetheless. And so, I ask him ‘Boy, what do you think you’re doing?’” Ægir looked up and you realized that you’d thoughtlessly drifted closer as the veteran continued. “And do you know what he tells me?”

“No, my lord.”

“He says, ‘Well, that little serf sings this when she’s in the armory, and I thought maybe it would help me focus.’” Another flake fell from his hand as he scoffs, “Focus, my missing big toe.”

Ægir looked like he was about to continue, loudly, but shut his mouth and looked past you a moment before you heard it.

A loud wet thwacking noise echoed across the empty plane and time seemed to pass slower than usual as you saw a vibrant, gleaming, blue fish that could rival the stature of terminator power armor surge out of the icy depths and caress the grey sky, before making its arched decent like an angry torpedo with needlepoint teeth.

You hadn’t survived this long in such a cruel galaxy without any wits at all, and ran to give the beast a wide berth upon its impact with the surface. Its furiously flailing body splashed little droplets of water against your form, which froze solid in the cold air.

“Ha! No wonder he likes you so much,” Ægir ribbed at you, as he seamlessly stabbed the wriggling thing through the back of its head, piercing whatever brain it could have. “You scurry about like ei lita kanin!”

The burning retort that had definitely been on the tip of your tongue was tragically cut short by a sudden series of muted vibrations that traveled up your legs. Something was hitting the ice…

Your feet were moving before you could think. What help could you realistically offer Asmundr from here? You could not dive into the freezing water, you could not drag him back to safety, you could not even pull his body up onto shore without dislocating your shoulder in the attempt. But you knelt stupidly by the hole anyways; you had to be as close to his side as possible, in case he needed you. Because you would do all those useless things if he so much as hesitated in telling you not to.

Not long after, the surface of the water began bursting with bubbles of air from the depths, bringing with them deep oily blood. You called out to him, as if he would be able to hear you meters away and underwater.

“Mundi! Are you okay?!”

Time seemed to drag on for an eternity as the bubbling died down and the water remained still.

You had just started to loosen the straps of your outermost layers to dive in yourself when a crimson streak began racing towards the surface. You could feel your heart fall back into place.

Asmundr’s red hair clung to his forehead and neck as he beamed at you in pride. Or, as best he could.

The spear he lifted out of the water held four native fish, each easily as long as your arm and thicker around than both of your thighs. A massive bony fish with pearlescent armor still wiggled in his maw, cracked where his fangs dug tightly into its flesh. He threw the spear up onto the ice before hefting his bulk out of the hole.

Sitting on the ledge of the ice beside you, he pulled the fish from his teeth. His smug smile showcased the gleaming red that clung to his canines and dripped down his chin. He glanced about briefly before his expression morphed into one of confusion.

“Where’s Hodr?”

Oh. You hadn’t even noticed he’d left.

“Not far,” Ægir said. “He picked up a scent while you were out.”

“Are you okay, Mundi?” You had been keenly looking him over for any obvious injuries he may have sustained since he surfaced. He didn’t seem any worse for wear, but maybe he just rammed the ice with his thick head. You stood up to get a better look. “It sounded like you hit the ice pretty hard.”

“What are you talking about? I wasn’t near the ice at all.” Rivulets of water trickled down Asmundr’s body, his core temperature just enough to keep the water from freezing against his skin in the cold air. “Are you sure you’re not the one that hit the ice?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to be annoyed by his teasing tone. You were just relieved that he was okay.

Asmundr’s gaze turned sharply from you to the horizon at a noise you could not hear.

“Finally done batting that pest around, Hodr?”

You turned towards Ægir’s call and watched as Hodr dragged along an enormous, white-feathered land-shark behind him.

“Six minutes,” the wolf bellowed, shaking the leg of his kill. “How long was the pup?”

“Thirteen minutes!”

Something rumbled deep in Asmundr’s chest at the veteran’s announcement and he huffed in irritation. If you hadn’t just been willing to throw yourself into the icy void after your companion out of shear worry, you would have found his pouting cute.

“Mundi,” you started softly as he plopped himself away from his brothers to work on his kills. He did not look up. He was still wet and bare and the wind was still so cold and you did not think you could handle the implausible thought of him catching a chill.

“Mundi, you need to dry off,” you chided as you unwrapped the outermost fur you wore from your waist. It would be warmer and drier than the one he placed on your shoulders, which had kept you plenty warm, but also collected a non-insignificant amount of flurries.

He grumbled something as he continued to work on dislodging his kills from the spear.

You pursed your lips before running the fur across his shoulders and up his neck, before tousling his hair the best you could. You left the fur draped across his shoulders, which he gripped closed across his chest with one hand. He remained incredibly tense before in-taking sharply and shaking his upper body vigorously. You did not escape the resulting splatter.

He tilted his head back to look you in the eyes, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you recognized amusement and joy in them.

“I’m keeping this!” Asmundr announced, sounding very pleased. “But you have to hold onto this,” he tugged slightly at the pelt that still engulfed the entirety of your upper body, “for me, in return.”

The request turned something in your chest.

“Of course,” you agreed, and you couldn’t help the smile on your lips.

 He smiled up at you in turn, his eyes softening as his gaze lingered. In that moment, it felt as if something in the universe had clicked into place. After a few seconds, he abruptly looked back down and dragged the armored fish over to him.

“And,” he drew the word out for a long moment, as he began carving familiar runes into the pearlescent plating with his spear. “You need to make good use of this.” He passed you the fish barring your name, and you had to steel yourself to keep from tumbling under the weight of it.

[rebouks]

Robin’s first day at school after the winter holidays was just like any other; painful, overwhelming, and slightly boring.

There was a myriad of reasons he didn’t want to be here, but Oscar and Courtney were adamant it was somehow important-.. and mandatory, so Robin didn’t have a choice. They’d become immune to his avoidant shenanigans over time too, no longer were they so easily fooled, even when he’d made himself sick on purpose.

 He’d given up eventually, the worried glances they’d exchange each morning proving to be as tiresome as school itself. Pretending to be fine was better than being shipped off to some snooty shrink again; one who wouldn’t believe him anyway, who couldn’t even imagine the nonsense he was subject to on a daily basis, despite their fancy certificates hanging behind their fancy desks.

Robin was completely mute whilst at school, save for the odd whisper to Jude or sometimes Jacob, if necessary-.. but never Juniper. She was too condescending with her concern and far too obvious. He wanted to fade into obscurity, not be thrust into the limelight by an overzealous cousin trying to do the “right” thing by speaking on his behalf.

He’d resorted to telling her off in the end, her lip quivering as he explained how she was only making things worse. Robin wasn’t sure what had surprised her more, the fact that he was so vehemently opposed to being defended, or that he’d spoken to her at all. She’d acquiesced though, so that was something.

The only person he spoke to properly was nurse Wiles, or Silvia, as she insisted at this point. The cacophony of voices and Robin’s general disdain for being trapped in this hellish building for six hours a day usually resulted in a pounding headache and a disgusting, dissolvable aspirin; he was her most frequent visitor, discounting the child that was practically allergic to everything in sight.

He kept to himself as much as he could, scrawling out enough work to avoid being pulled up and listening to music wherever he could. He had a solid collection of tiny I-pod shuffles and headphones by now, enough to rotate between classes as they inevitably wound up being seized by exasperated adults.

His favourite deception were the decoy headphones, their obnoxious size drawing immediate attention and victorious confiscation. He’d huff and hand them over in defeat, only to thread a smaller more inconspicuous pair beneath his shirt and tuck them under his thick, curly mop as soon as their backs were turned; they were none the wiser, content with their perceived punishment. Robin thought teachers were supposed to be smart…

Though Robin’s long tangle of curls were useful in some ways, they also drew their fair share of unwanted attention. As if being provoked, shoved, tripped, and called “Mutey” wasn’t enough, he was often referred to as a girl, particularly by the other boys.

He wasn’t entirely sure why it was so hilarious, or why it never got old, especially since it was painfully obvious by now that he didn’t give a shit. He was used to being the proverbial punching bag. Being as different as he was obviously made him an easy target, almost as though he had a bullseye permanently woven into the fabric of his jumper.

He’d surmised that they had their reasons for picking on him though; some had parents who were just as cruel, some had none at all, some were desperate to fit in, and some were just too stupid to know any better.

Either way, Robin had decided a long time ago that he’d rather they mithered him with their so-called bullying than risk upsetting some poor schmuck who wasn’t privy to the concealed insecurities that diluted their venomous words and wicked laughter.

Most of Robin’s classes were raucous, yet dull. He could barely hear himself think over the combined clamour of diligent workers and class clowns, and since he could usually glean the answers to any questions from his classmates or the teachers themselves, he never saw much point in trying.

He knew it probably wasn’t great to miss out on the “working out” part of the work, but it was too hard to concentrate even if he’d wanted to. Oscar always helped him with his homework after dinner anyway, so a least he wasn’t going to end up completely lacking in the brain cell department-.. hopefully.

Swimming lessons and PE weren’t so bad, but art was his favourite class of all. Most people got too caught up in what they were doing to daydream noisily or obsess over potentially incorrect answers. There was no right or wrong when it came to creation, and Robin was actually good at drawing, painting, or whatever else his sticky fingers fancied throwing together.

His art teacher even let him wear his headphones during class too, so he’d get to sit at the back of the room in a blissful cocoon of loud music and pencil shavings, wishing every period were this laid back.

All in all, school was utter shite; and at the end of each terrible day when the bell finally rang, Robin was beyond glad that it was over.

Previous // Next

[lanitalay]

At sea 

Rhysand x reader

a/n: Hi my loves!!!! I wrote this to break the ice after winter break. It will likely have one or two more parts. Wanted to write some Rhysand fluff after destroying his character in Before I say goodnight lol.

word count: 1k

warnings: none

Summary: reader returns home after months at sea.

Part 2

Salt coated the railings you clung to while walking down the stairs to the main deck. The summer sun had dried up the water that had crashed against the ship all night long. Now small crystals blanket every surface on board. You make it down the wonky steps, map rolled and tucked under your arm. It had been a rough passage last night, the shaking had kept most of the crew on board hugging buckets, unable to control the bile. It was the most dangerous part of the voyage, the captain had to watch out for jagged rocks that were mostly covered by water or mist, towering waves and fog overhead that prevented the guiding stars to be visible. 

It would be a matter of days now. If you squinted you could swear the shoreline of Velaris was on the horizon. This time it had been an entire season. The trek had started the day after the last of the snow melted and you would be back just shy of the summer solstice. You had never been gone this long from your home. The salt air was starting to stink, you yearned for green fields and pine scented breezes. 

You had collected more samples than ever before. The botany in the foreign lands you visited was truly magnificent and different to what you were accustomed to in the Night Court. In your private quarter you had managed to fit around one thousand dried samples of leaves, roots, flowers and a few insects along with some living plants, placed carefully near the port hole and a plethora of seeds. Your favorite treasure was an exceptional plant that you had meticulously looked after because the bright violet color of the flowers reminded you of a pair of matching eyes back home. Rhysand. You tried not to think of him. You really really did. But in the flowers you saw his eyes. In the stars you saw his smile. In dark waters you saw his fury. In the sea shanties you heard his drunken laugh. A sigh escapes your frowning mouth. 

He might have married or mated by the time you return. Not that anything romantic existed outside of your wildest dreams. But he was your friend. You had known him since the head researcher of the priestesses had sent for a field researcher, since she did not feel ready to be outside of the sacred library walls. You had been recruited because your father was a renowned explorer and you had grown up by his side. Every shore in Prythian and the Continent was familiar to your family. Every shore unknown called your name. 

Rhysand was the one who brought you to the library the first time. He had wanted to be present and even gave you a tour himself of the massive sanctuary. Since then, each time you return he flies you to the library and you tell him an abridged version of what you saw on your travels. Sometimes you think that he holds you a little tighter than the last time he saw you and you stop yourself before even thinking that there is a glint in his eyes that indicates something more than polite interest. 

The days pass slowly. Eventually, the familiar cliff sides and hilly landscape come into view. Relief floods your chest. You would be staying a while this time. Cataloging all of the new materials would take at least until the end of summer. Flapping sounds from above and you look up expecting to see the mast ripped but instead a gliding shadow figure high above. An inevitable smile forms on your face. 

It feels like docking the boat took forever. But once all the ropes are tied and the masts lowered, the bridge gets lowered and you all but leap to the wooden platform and to the young High Lord that’s waiting for you. Sprinting you pounce on him, wrapping your arms around his neck and relishing the feeling of being on solid ground. “Welcome home, explorer” his smooth voice soothes your racing heart. Seconds pass before you let go and look at him. He’s beaming, his hair has gotten longer since you’d gone,  his face is clean shaven and he smells of home. You open your mouth to speak but his smile- his smile is making it impossible for you to concentrate on anything other than his mouth. So you stall. Your hands ruffle his hair in the way you knew would annoy him and he laughs. 

“I’m so glad to be back” you finally say. 

Flying to the House of Wind was routine at this point in your career. You would land and immediately go debrief with your head researcher. But today Rhys had asked you if you were hungry. The grumble in your stomach told him you were. So now you were eating a lovely lunch prepared by the house. It felt decadent to eat anything other than fish and potatoes. You moan as you bite and the High Lord in front of you chuckles. 

“What else did you find?” 

“Besides the plants there were incredible creatures there. Some had fur and some had scales. I drew them in my books” you point towards the bag you had brought with you most precious items. He reaches for it and begins to flip through the pages of your findings. 

“This is fascinating” he breathes. 

“What about you? Is there anything new in the Court?” You notice his jaw clench for a fraction of a second.  “Is something wrong?” 

He shakes his head and closes the book “there are whispers of war”. Your blood drains from your face. “What do you mean?” 

His face is now the face of a High Lord, relaying important information to a court member “Hybern has been making some advances, Prythian is too fragmented to stand a chance”. The war that had put the wall between the human realm and the seven courts had ended not one hundred years ago. Villages were still recovering. The Courts were still shifting in new power dynamics. 

“What can I do?” You were no warrior. The amount of times you’d trained with the Inner Circle you could count on one hand and it had always been to appease Cassian. Rhys looks away “nothing, we are trying our best to unify and organize our armies”. Something akin to a thorn nestles itself in your heart “and how are you going to do that?” 

He swallows and looks straight through your eyes “I’m marrying the Princess of Autumn”.