#yes the title is that one Hozier song
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almost sweet music
words: 900
warnings: 18+ only, smut, thigh job, clit rubbing, brief tit play, childhood friends to lovers, kinda somnophilia?
your eyes are open, but they might as well be closed as you look at nothing but pure darkness. you shift ever so slightly, pressing further into rafes hold.
it's not the first time you've shared a bed. he's been your friend for years, and you used to have sleepovers every weekend before your bodies developed and it became awkward.
you would still occasionally fall asleep in rafes bed, usually when the movie he picked to watch was too boring, or when you were waiting around for him and ended up taking a nap enveloped in his scent.
tonight is different. even when you share a bed, rafe never cuddles so close to you like this. yeah, you'll wake up with your head on his chest or a leg slung over his, but rafe is pressed right against your back.
his chest is rising and falling in a steady rhythm, but you can't tell for certain if he's asleep or just relaxed having you against him.
you close your eyes, relaxing back into his hold. his soft breath fans over your shoulder, barely covered by your tank top strap.
you're about to fall asleep when you feel something poking you. your eyes open again, wider this time as rafes hip press forward.
his obvious erection grinds against your ass, slow movements fooling you into believing rafe must be asleep still, body acting on its own, much like yours does when you seek him out in your sleep.
rafe let's out a soft moan, then a mumble of your name, and now you're certain he must be awake since you've never heard him sleep talk before.
his hips begin to move faster, like he's testing out how far he can take it before you wake up. how much movement will it take for you to stir, testing how much he can get away with.
you stiffen for a brief moment before relaxing again. you squeeze your eyes shut as you try to keep your breathing regular. you don't want rafe to stop.
to others, it's been a clear (and long) game you've been playing, both pining after each other while claiming to just be best friends. this is the first time rafe has shown any clear evidence to you of his sexual attraction. what you don't see is his longing looks whenever your back is turned, or the way he's quick to go after any guy who looks at you for a little too long.
you let out a silent curse in your head. of course he's only doing this because he thinks your asleep as he moves faster against you, barriers of fabric in the way but not stopping his light moans, almost sweet music against your ears.
you wonder how long he's been pushing up against you before it woke you up. you consider your options. sit here silently, let him cum in his pants, or take action, show you're awake, and change your life forever.
you're done with the game as you reach down, startling rafe as he lets out a curse, but you simply pull your shorts down along with your underwear, revealing your bare ass as you spread your thighs, pussy on show and already starting to get wet.
you wait for rafe to continue. when it's clear he won't, you reach behind your back to pull his cock out of his pajama pants.
rafe follows your motions, taking your lead and going as far as you will allow as you rub his cock through your folds before closing your thighs around him.
“keep going.” you say.
the words is all the encouragement rafe needs as he begins to thrust, the slick between your thighs growing as he pushes against you.
a hand that was holding you close to him travels to your pussy, rubbing you with a single finger, the pad rough against your sensitive clit.
the sound of slapping skin is a telltale sign of what is happening in the dark, as rafes hips meet your ass with every thrust.
you long for him to press into your cunt, but you know you need to have an actual discussion about what this is before allowing him to fuck you properly. the thighs will have to do.
rafe rubs faster, with a clear purpose as his cock swells. you can tell he's not far off, and the pure excitement from finally being with rafe also has your high growing.
you press further into his chest as your thighs squeeze together as tight as you can force them, letting out a moan when rafe spills, cum spurting through the gap onto the bed sheet.
he leaves his cock to soften between your legs as his finger keeps working on you, free hand coming to grab your chest over your shirt, hand possessively gripping your tits until your back arches, a strangled moan leaving your lips as you cum.
rafes hands disappear from off of you. you turn to face him, but can't see his expression.
“im-im sorry.” his words are enough for you to pinpoint where his mouth is as you lean in, pressing your lips together in a heated kiss.
“we can talk about it in the morning.” you say, tucking yourself back into his side. “we will cuddle and sleep and be in a much clearer headspace.”
rafe hesitates for a second before pressing a kiss to the top of your head, a soft smile on his face as your breathing returns to normal, not allowing himself to fall asleep until he hears your gentle snores.
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#yes the title is a hozier song but the actual song doesnt fit the fic alkjfds#rafe smut#rafe cameron smut#obx smut#outer banks smut#rafe fic#rafe fanfic#rafe fanfiction#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe x you#rafe x y/n#rafe x oc#rafe x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x oc#rafe cameron x reader#rafe blurb#rafe drabble#rafe imagine#rafe one shot#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron one shot
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Pairing: D-16/Megatron x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: After witnessing your conjunx endura descend into madness, you're left alone with your thoughts as the city of Iacon slowly begins to rebuild anew. However, your lover visits you the night he was banished from the city. Warnings/Tags: Bittersweet, slight angst, cybertronian reader, pre-established relationship, possible corruption, ambiguous ending, and spoilers for the Transformers One movie. Word Count: 1200+ words
Something was wrong.
You knew something was wrong when you felt something burst within your spark chamber. Your digits brushed against the space where your T-cog would be and…
You winced as the pain shot through the bond again. You could describe it as the feeling of sharp pieces of Energon flowing through your circuits. Hot and angry, then as somber as ice.
Working in the Energon mines meant that danger could be lurking around the corner at any given moment.
You understood this fact well, especially when working in the same crew as your sparkmate and his best friend.
The rambunctious duo always had something going wrong for them as the cycles passed. Sometimes you ended up with the short end of the stick when you joined in on the 'fun.' On the other, you were watching from the sidelines as the two would get punished for their (mostly Orion's) schemes. The emotions shared through the bond were as warm as joy, slight pinches coming from D's annoyance, and the gentle touch of the love you two shared discreetly.
So, why were you only sensing pain?
What was happening to your lover? Was he safe? Did someone hurt him? Where was Pax while your conjunx endura's chaotic turmoil nearly made your optics teary?
Where was he?
Where was D-16?
—--
Orion was shorter….the last time you interacted with him.
Now? He easily towered over the crowd like a sore digit. You were beside yourself as your strained audials to listen to his words.
Betrayal, Sentinel, Change.
They were empowering, not quite heavy but it certainly stirred hope among the miners as they cheered.
But, what of D-16?
For a moment, Orion's optics met yours and confirmed your fears.
Something had happened to D-16.
Here in the open for all of the citizens of Iacon to see was the fall of Sentinel Prime. His end? An impostor sharing the face of your mate who claimed the title of 'Megatron.'
Who was this stranger with the face of your lover and why couldn't you feel him through the bond anymore?
You remembered trying to tug at the bond, pulling and twisting to get something to react in response to your desperation. Your optics never strayed from the figure who stood above all of you.
Yet, nothing came. Wait…
You could have sworn you saw 'Megatron's' optics scanning the crowd before they found their way to yours.
Time slowed for the first time and you tried to search for anything, something in that stranger's optic for any presence of D-16.
For a moment, the fiery glow of those optics dimmed.
Then….
He turned away and never looked back in the direction where you stood again.
Not even after Orion Pax, now Optimus Prime, banished him from Iacon.
Your spark broke that day.
Darkness covered the desolate area where most miners spend their nights in recharge. You stood before your conjunx endura berth, digits caressing the chipped stickers he had collected over time of his idol. The lights shining from your optics misted and you leaned closer to rest your forehelm on the space that once belonged to D-16.
"____." A voice spoke from behind you.
You spun around and threw a punch, but the massive servo enveloping your servo stunned you.
"D…?" You murmured in disbelief.
'D-16' narrowed his optics and didn't respond when you pulled your servo out of his.
"It's...Megatron now."
"Right, right, sorry…I'm a little late on the new…this," You threw your hand up to gesture to his shiny, new frame.
'Megatron' didn't appear amused at your sass and even drew closer to you. His steps felt daunting with each step he took as if the ground of the miners quarters would buckle beneath his weight.
Backing up against the berth put into perspective how smaller you were compared to the mech. Megatron stepped closer and closed the distance between the two of you. He raised a servo near your faceplate, a low growl left his intake as you turned defiantly.
"Did you not see why I had to do this? Why I had to become-"
"-Ha!" You snorted and snapped your helm to look at him. "You mean when I tried 'seeing' you earlier? I'm pretty sure I wasn't the one who cut off their sparkmate from the bond for no reason."
"And another thing." You pushed against the edges of the berth and stepped forward with your chassis bumping against his. The larger mech could easily shove you back, but retreated as you approached. The silver mech mesmerized by the way your optics flickered into a darker shade only to snap out of it when you questioned him with, "Why did you return to me? Why now? I was certain you'd abandon me-"
"-do you think so lowly of me as well?!" Megatron pushed back. His servo stretched to catch you when you stumbled, but dropped it when you flinched from his approaching touch.
His servo was clenched as he drew it back to his side. Digits rubbed together to replace the lack of heat that usually came from your frame held under his grasp.
With a tilt of your helm, you asked, "I don't know anymore…one moment I'm happy spending the rest of my days with my sparkmate, but he disappears, and then returns as a power-hungry tyrant…what else am I supposed to think of you, D…no…Megatron?"
Megatron did not speak, not that he knew how to.
Silence fell upon the lovers, neither willing to break the tension. Not until now.
"I came here…to see you," D-16 yielded. His soft voice easing the suspicion gnawing at you ever since he arrived, finally your frame went lax as his face became familiar. This was your conjunx endura, the one you bonded with and not whoever was there previously.
"To ask if you'll join me, my love."
"What?" You hissed.
"Come with me," Megatron urged. "I have risked everything coming back here for you and I will not ask again."
You brought a servo to your helm and felt a pit grow in your tanks.
"Join me because I promise you…" Megatron leaned down to hold your gaze, "...the next time we see each other will be the end of us."
"I…" You glanced at his servo that reached for you, most likely for the last time. Your optical ridges furrowed and Megatron's optics shimmered with delight as your servo fell over his. The larger servo enveloped the smaller one and pressed the palm of your servo against his spark chamber. Right over the area where Sentinel's previous cog was ripped out of him.
The memory struck a chord in you. Becoming the thing to make you sober from the high of what this relationship could have been. Should have been.
It could still happen, only if you said yes…but what fate would fall on Iacon if you joined the one bot desiring the destruction of the new era?
Megatron watched the conflict swimming on your face, his thumb caressing the back of your servo as the other came up to settle on your waist.
After a while, you gave him your answer.
😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banner(s) by @kodaswrld !!
#d 16#transformers one#Tranformers one spoilers#tranformers#megatron x reader#d-16 x reader#cybertronian reader#Spoilers#movie spoilers#slight angst#yes the title was inspired by a hozier song#kudos to you if you can guess which song
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Hozier lyrics no one (seems to) talks about but should…
Mentioned to me by @abunchofgaysinatrenchcoat
(Wasteland, Baby! Edition)
#hozier#andrew hozier byrne#love live wasteland baby era ig#wasteland baby#yes I know it’s a (album) title song but I’ve hardly seen anyone talk about this#unless you’re a certain mutual….she knows who she is :)#person tagged isn’t the one I mentioned in tags but still 😭#I love my mutuals to bits guys
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can we actually take a moment and remember swan upon leda? can we actually shut the fuck up and sit the fuck down and think about our lord and savior swan upon leda because i'm tired of doing it alone every single day guys
#the title itself!!! THE FUCKING TITLE#swan UPON leda#god he's an actual genius THANK U HOZIER SO FUCKING MUCH#i hate how that myth is portrayed and received and objectified bc they make it out to be such a funny little chuckle story like 'hahaha led#is SO easy that she fell for a swan isn't that actually the funniest thing you've ever heard omg like women are literally so easy to please#whatever whatever blahblahblah yes that's fucking hilarious matthew thank u SO much for that absolutely fascinating commentary on a women#getting raped by a god really truly an amazing insight into ur pea fucking brain#like fuck sorry but i just absolutely despises how this myth is made out to be and i remember learning abt it in class and being literally#nauseated bc guess fucking what it's literally not hard to understand wtf is happening and while u r laughing away about i repeat a WOMEN#getting RAPED some fucking of us have brain enough to be mortified#jesus ANYWAY#hozier dropped that song after roe v wade was over turned and i just i love him so fucking much he cares SO MUCH and before anything else#he's an activist and he actually gives a shit about women's rights and he dropped this song as a comfort as something to hold onto but also#as a social commentary and he linked charities and resources to help women and keep them safe and this song just means everything to me#bc greek mythology often gets reduced to children stories bc most ppl know myths from children books and obviously a book for kids not gonn#outloud say the word rape or even imply that that's what's happening and that's fine ig but bc so many ppl know it from there it gets#reduces to a joke and a raped women gets ridiculed but hozier actually took one of the few poems about leda being raped and it being a rape#at all and made it into a song during a time that was so traumatizing for ever afab person in the world basically and it just says 'i see#you i see what you're going through and i'm listening and i actually care and i want to help you' and he's helping by writing a song yes bc#he's spreading the word that way bc that's how movements are spread and people listen to him when he's singing and that's how he helps and#i did i mention that i love him? bc i'd actually do anything for him and to meet him and tell him how much he fucking means to me#the line that always gets me is 'a crying CHILD pushes a CHILD into the night' bc yes she was a fucking child who had to deliver 4 KIDS BC#AN ASSHOLE DECIDED SHE WAS PRETTY ENOUGH TO FUCK and nobody ever cares that she was just a child and her child helen was just a child when#she was abducted and raped and impregnated (JUST LIKE HER MOTHER) by theseus a supposed great hero and im genuinely sick she was just a#child like so many women or girls in greek mythology and ik it was a different time back then or wtv but they were just GIRLS and nobody#cared about that or cares now. but this song does.#bc of course it does it's hozier.#hozier#swan upon leda
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“Do you want me?” Speirs asked bluntly, eyes piercing through him, unblinking. There was no waver in his voice, no fear of rejection or scandal. Just a matter-of-factly question, with a yes or no answer.
sooo yes another one. sorry they’re down bad
#listen. Listen [disappears]#im cooking alright#but do u know how hard it is to come up with a title for one shots. im just skimming hozier songs and siken poems waiting for enlightenment#yes im doing alright why do you ask.#theyre my very sweet boys who are very in love#and ron is a little sassy until hes not#im writing a chapter 2 for this tomorrow dont even LOOK in my direction#speirton#band of brothers fic
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the titles of my fics make much more sense if you listen to the entire song they're named after
#this next one is going to be titled 'in some sad way I already know'#which makes much sense for the fic if you know that the next lyrics are 'so I will not ask you where you came from#i would not ask and neither would you'#♡#yes it's another hozier song
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i needed “kisses on the nose” from the prompt list with logan, like, yesterday
give me my soft man!!
LOVE’S PERFECT ACHE
yes i got the title from a hozier song
summary: logan gets mad at you, and makes it up to you.
warnings: i made this angsty but other than that, no warnings
word count: 1.3k
logan had been acting cold ever since lunch.
curt responses, no petnames, a bit more sarcasm than he would usually use for you. all of these things pointed to something that was your fault.
no matter how much you wracked your brain, you couldn’t think of anything you’d done to make him angry.
it’s not until he walks into your shared room a couple hours later that you find the answer.
“wanna tell me what that was back there?” he says, causing you to look up from your book.
“what?” your eyebrows furrow. what on earth is he talking about?
“with scott. at lunch. talking to him like that?”
you feel like you’ve missed a chapter.
“logan,” you huff out his name with a confused laugh. “what are you talking about?”
“hand on his arm like that? laughing your ass off? what’d he say that was so damn funny, hm?” logan seethes.
you think back to your interaction with scott earlier in the day. it was just like any other time the two of you have spent time together. you weren’t entirely sure what was so alarming about enjoying the company of your friend and teammate.
but then you remembered logan has a temperament, an extreme distaste of scott, and a jealous streak like nobody’s business.
“logan,” you sigh. “it wasn’t like that at all. i was just laughing at a joke he made.”
he scoffs, his tone condescending. “yeah, right.”
you bristle at that. he almost never talks down to you like this. suddenly, a pocket of anger bubbles into your chest. before you know it, you hear yourself saying:
“funny, i never acted like this while you flirted with jean.”
logan stops cold.
“i never flirted with jean.” he says, plain and simple.
you scoff. if there was anything you hated, it was being treated like you were dumb.
“don’t,” you warn. “don’t do that.”
“do what, sugar?” his tone is condescending, demeaning. it brings the beginning of tears to your eyes.
“don’t pretend like i don’t know.” you blink, trying to hold back your tears, but one falls and makes its way down your cheek.
logan falters. he hadn’t meant to make you cry.
“honey-“ he tries, but you brush him off by holding up your hand without another word.
it’s only after you make it to the first empty room you find that you allow yourself to break down. ———————————————————————————
for the rest of the day, logan isolates himself, staying in your room as the hours tick by.
he was never the best at communicating.
by all means, he was trying. he really was, but it was just so goddamn hard sometimes. he could never get the words right and often ended up causing even more damage to whatever situation he’d fucked up in the first place.
he knew you weren’t doing anything with scott, of course he did. but some part of him deep inside couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t enough for you, or someone bad for you. so, when his worst fear was even remotely realized, he lashed out in ugly ways.
logan lets out a sigh. why’d he have to fuck this up? he had never meant to make you cry. it was the last thing he’d ever want. all he’s ever wanted was to give you the love you deserve. to protect you. never to hurt you.
and he couldn’t even do that.
he gets up, putting out his cigar. it was about time he stopped wallowing in his self pity and started looking for you so he could apologize.
he does end up finding you, in a small room off the gym. logan’s heart cracks when he sees you, curled up against the corner, knees to your chest, eyes red.
what had he done?
he says your name, and his chest tightens even more when you visibly bristle at the sound of his voice. the sight’s almost enough to bring tears to his eyes.
logan strides over, kneeling next to you. his hand is warm and strong when he places it on your back, but your body still tenses when you feel his touch.
“have you been here the whole time, bub?” his voice is soft, his familiar scent of tobacco and leather and pine enveloping you and making you almost give in and bury yourself in his arms.
almost.
you give him an almost imperceptible nod of your head, not wanting to speak just yet.
really, you didn’t trust yourself to not burst into tears the second you tried.
he sighs, shifting his position so that he’s in front of you. his hand gently pulls your chin up to make you look at him, his thumb wiping away the tear tracks down your face.
seeing how red your eyes are makes his heart do a slow twist in his chest. he had done this to you. and he wasn’t sure he knew how to fix it.
“i’m sorry.” his voice is quiet, gravelly. “i didn’t mean any of it, honey.”
you finally force yourself to meet his eyes, blinking slowly. he was lying. you knew it, could feel it.
logan rarely said anything he didn’t truly mean.
“i know you did. i know you meant it.” you say, the weak, broken tone of your voice hurting him even more.
“i want to explain. believe me. but i just can’t put what i’m feeling…..together. into words.” logan looks down, his mind racing. he was never good at expressing his feelings, and he was most certainly going to fuck it up if he did it without thinking it out.
“maybe you could try.” your voice, low and cracking slightly from lack of use, breaks him out of his thoughts.
he lets out a soft breath, unsure of how to explain himself. he owes it to you to try. to have what might possibly be the world’s most uncomfortable conversation if it meant that you didn’t loathe him like you did right now. for everything you do for him, it’s the very least he can do for you.
“you mean a lot to me, darlin. a lot more than it might seem. so when i see you talking to another man, happy with another man,” he trails off, a lump forming in his throat. “it hurts me. because every day i doubt that i’m the right one for you. every day i’m terrified that you’ll get tired of me, of us, and leave.”
as he talks, you slowly start to open up, pulling your knees away from your chest and wiping the remnants of your tears away from your face. your hands find his face, cupping his cheeks as you get onto your knees to reach him.
“logan.” your tone is firm. “why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
seeing the man you love, normally so tough and headstrong, almost curl into himself is a strange sight to stomach. logan seems small like this, not because of the way he’s crouched in front of you, but because of the palpability of his fear.
he clears his throat before he speaks, his voice soft. “i didn’t know how to say it.”
his hands come to rest on your waist, pulling you against him into a hug. he rests his chin on the crown of your head, one palm sliding up to rest on your back.
as you reciprocate the hug, you feel the tension melt away from his body, his arms tightening slightly around you as the thought clicks in his head: you still wanted him.
“i’m sorry, baby.” logan whispers into your hair. “i’m so sorry.” he pulls you away from him a little, kissing your forehead, then your cheeks, and finally your nose, resting his forehead against yours afterward.
you close the gap, pressing your lips to his, tasting faintly of tobacco and coffee. he kisses you back with equal gentleness. it’s a sweet, soft kiss that you both melt into.
you relish in the fact that you’ll have many more kisses just like these.
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angel of small death. billy loomis
summary. billy’s finally found a middle ground between his needs, and your reservations. right?
contains. MDNI 18+, dubcon, fingering, unprotected sex (yay!), “just the tip” turns into full-on sex, billy’s being….. billy, creampie (yay! x2), he gets off on your pain (yay! x3), i say “believer” and “gospel” so if borderline blasphemy isn’t your thing then sayonara, title is from the hozier song “angel of small death and the codeine scene” but it is not required listening for this piece (though, if you want to listen, you can)
word count. 2k
— a word from your author: this started out as me just talking about billy telling you “just the tip” as a bridge into fully fucking you. but then it became me going into detail. but it was fun to write, as i enjoy writing dubcon. billy loomis, i’m ready to be taken advantage of <3
☆ ☆
“just the tip, okay?”
you’ve been holding back with him for a while, only really having sex with him of your own volition once or twice, and leaving him to beg the rest of the time.
he won’t tell you, but he likes when you make him beg to fuck you. when you make him lie and cheat, when he has to distract you from his hands pulling your bottoms off and by the time he’s lining up, you’re so worked up he has no choice but to fuck you. he likes having to play his way into your pants, or shorts, or skirt, when “yes” isn’t flowing readily from your lips like it sometimes is.
and, this time, he’s found a compromise.
“just the tip, okay? just a little, so it’ll still feel good for me and you.” me and you, he says, even subconsciously his pleasure comes first. and you. obviously, he knows you like being full of him. you like knowing what he feels like inside you, penetrating and owning the most intimate parts of you. he knows that, even if you try to contain yourself, you think about being under him or on top of him everyday.
“okay,” you nod, eagerly lying back on your pillows and spreading your legs for him. elation is written all over his face as he walks on his knees between your legs, the same smile that made you fall for him months ago spread across his pretty features.
leaning over you and caging you in between his lean arms, he hovers for just a second. leaning up, you finish the kiss, pulling him down with shy hands twisted in the collar of his shirt. he kisses you deep, the kind of kisses that make your brain fuzzy and have your body getting ready to let him in. he lingers on your lips, taking his time and fucking your mind the way only he can.
it’s a surprise you even agreed to the compromise, with the way your mind starts to call back how it feels to have him all the way inside of you.
he parts from your lips, placing a kiss on your jaw, and then the hot skin of your neck. there, he lingers again, remembering the sweet spot he found the last time he got you like this.
when he finds it, your hips buck against him, a little whine leaking from your throat.
“billy,” you murmur.
“yeah?” he gives back, kissing your skin again. you breathe out in response. it’s damning, and so pretty, and it has something between your legs pounding like your heart in your heaving chest. everything he says, everything he does, every look, every touch, is it for you. billy loomis has captivated and trapped you, and the danger you’re in only sets you alight.
moving farther down, he studies your face with just a quick glance, and, despite wanting to, he doesn’t push you on getting your shirt off. he plans for the future, the outcome he knows he’ll get, and decides he’ll like it better if you have your top on.
with his mind made up, he moves back to your face, positioning himself above you. he kisses you again, and that fire inside you burns anew.
one of his hands moves downward as his lips continue moving against yours, kissing you with such force that your heads move up with it. it’s a kiss like you always wanted before you met him, the kinda kiss you only saw in movies. he makes you feel like you’re in a movie.
that hand crests over the band of your shorts, caressing the soft skin of your stomach, right above the butterflies that flutter there. it moves down again, into your shorts and your panties, and you shiver. immediately, his fingers start on your clit, rubbing and circling and fuck, it feels good.
“billy, ah-” you whine, bucking up against his fingers. your head moves off the pillows, and he follows you, breaking the kiss to watch you squirm under him. his gaze is observing, like a predator and his prey, like a mad scientist and his experiment.
wet and ready, it only takes a couple more passes before he can slide his hand down and slip two fingers inside you, pumping in and out slowly. now, your eyes slip shut and you tangle your hands in his collar again, grinding down on his fingers.
“billy,” you sob, crying out for him like a believer.
and like that scientist in his lab, watching his creation form and morph, he watches you. he watches the furrow of your brow and the canting of your hips. you are his creation, the nasty things hidden inside you brought out by a boy with a sweet smile and sweeter words. he could sell a fur coat to an eskimo, a glass of water to a drowning man.
drowning. that’s what you’re doing. and he’s watching on with a smile, the same sickening smile that grows across his face as you get so wet that you can hear his fingers disappearing inside you.
at another whine from you, he hums “yeah,” a damning sound that your eyes roll back to. your body tenses, all systems overloaded and overcrowded by the sensation that he unleashes within you. it's burning inside you, lava swirling in your veins, red and hot and you can't think, you can barely breathe. his presence above you adds to it all.
like always, you're close so quick. billy knows your body from months of only being able to put his fingers in you, and the couple of times you've let him take you all the way. "i'm gonna—," you choke, squeezing your eyes shut tighter as you brace yourself for what you know will knock a couple brain cells loose.
he hums again, and through cracked eyes you see his head tilt to the side. with that, and the way his hand grows a little rougher, you come. it's good for you, like it always is, and it leaves you floating.
but for him, that obstacle is out of his way. now, he can get what he wants.
"you ready?" he asks, soft and quiet.
"yeah," you nod meekly, excited to feel him inside you.
he forgoes any further pretense, pulling his wet hand straight out of your shorts and hooking them in his sweats and boxers just enough to free himself, and you shiver at the sight of his fingers covered in your arousal. that same messy hand hits the middle of your shorts and pulls them and your panties to the side in one swift motion, made easy by how spread your legs are.
he looks up at you as his grabs his cock, nudging your clothes back out of place with his leaking tip. with his eyes locked on you he slips in.
fuck, it’s just like you remember. it’s just like you’ve played over and over again. the blunt, burning pain, the wet slide as he reaches just an inch or two deep inside you, cutting off before he slides in any farther. above you, you can feel those deep brown eyes watching and taking.
a soft breath escapes your lungs, all shuddery and shivery and even though he’s just barely inside you, he feels good. he buries his face in the hot skin of your neck.
he doesn’t take any input from you now. he’s already given in to your wiles in allowing this shy act, and he has no interest in asking you to allow anything else.
“billy,” you call as he starts to move slowly. perhaps the act of casting the crown of himself into you, so shallow, is more lewd than what you’re avoiding. lascivious, maybe, this compromise.
he rocks like this for a bit, taking in the feel of your walls kissing and clenching around the tip of him. fat and thick, he stretches you so perfectly, the searing pain being overtaken by pleasure until that’s all that’s left.
the middle ground is fine, for you, as he rocks in and out of you, groaning lowly.
but for him, it’s not enough. all of you belongs to him, and he wants to feel it. he wants to feel you.
this time, he rocks in a little deeper, opening you up farther for him. “billy. .” you say quietly, distantly aware of his cock pushing deeper than it’s supposed to be. a ragged groan pushes out of his chest in response, something pathetic and needing, like he’s groveling for it.
“billy,” you assert to the blank white ceiling, louder, trying to get him to stop his rocking. but a pang of pleasure shoots up your spine because he’s reached a little deeper this time, and you’re not sure if you want him to stop. this is always how it is with him, so confusing, like your nerves get crossed and the pathways to your brain are blocked by the boy above you.
he doesn’t pay you any mind, rocking father and farther. “ah-,” you breathe, cutting yourself off with a deep breath in as he starts to hit spots he’s only hit a handful of times before. it hurts, a little. the sensation has you squirming and bucking under him as he takes what he wants, forcing himself in and breaking down the barriers you’d set. he groans so prettily. you heat up, somewhat proud to be the source of his pleasure.
it’s rough, and you know it shouldn’t feel this good, but as your bed rocks under you and he fucks his cock deeper and deeper, you don’t know why you even tried to hold back. as he slides deeper, the pain intensifies, but ecstasy soon grasps it and merges with it, the two-sided feeling bringing you to the brink of insanity.
in his mind, billy thanks whoever’s listening as he listens to your sounds rise, listens to whines like you’ve been wounded, those pathetic, layered sounds, the kind he likes to hear from you. they’re the kind that blow his ego up, let him know that the hold he has on you is deep-rooted and ever-growing. he planted a seed of control in you the day you two met, and it’s been his absolute pleasure to water it every day.
finally, he’s as deep inside you as he can be, and he’s outright grinding into you, rolling his lean body down onto you while he looses low groans and grunts and heavy huffs. the discomfort that sits in the bottom of your belly has been relieved, turned into something that hurts in the best way. he feels good, even as your mind reels with the violation. he shouldn’t be doing this, a part of your mind tells you, but your body tells you that it’s fine.
you move with his movements, your body bumping up and down every time he bottoms out inside you. silvery whines fly out of your mouth every time his wiry hips meet yours, the force with which he fucks you tipping your whole being off balance.
it’s good. it’s so good. he’s good, hitting that one spot inside you that has you clawing at his back, your cells scrambling to find something to stabilize them. the sound of his body meeting yours fills the room and it’s heaven, in that moment you feel a new pathway being formed, something in you molds to herald billy loomis’s cock digging in you as gospel.
“shit,” you curse, utterly dumbfounded by pleasure. if billy asked you to give him everything you own right now, you’d say yes and ask if there’s anything else he wants with it. he can sense that in you, that devotion and yearning for him that’s begun to water itself without him having to do anything. you’ve forgotten what this even started out as.
when he moves his hand between the both of you and maneuvers under your clothes to rub hard at your clit, everything in you screams. from your mouth, you sob, your head falls sideways and you grip tight at him, eyes shutting down. he hums harshly. he wants you to come, and he wants you to come now.
and you do, for billy, you’ll come whenever he wants.
he follows soon after, slowing but never stopping his deep strokes.
after a beat of silence, he speaks.
“you okay?”
“yeah, i’m alright.” gratefully, in your voice, he no longer hears that barrier. finally, he’s broken you down.
#billy loomis smut#billy loomis x reader#billy loomis x black reader#billy loomis x fem!reader#mcondance 2024
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🦾 WINTERHAWK RECS 🏹
@bl0ssomized asked for some winterhawk fic recs & i took that as my sign to finally sit down, go through my 500+ bookmarks and provide y'all with my fav fics <3 if you end up reading/enjoying any of these, PLEASE make sure to leave a comment on ao3, the authors deserve all the nice words in the world!!
about this list:
most of these fics are pretty popular in the fandom, so this list is more directed at new fans just joining the winterhawk paradise!! (there's a lot on here tho, so maybe you find one you haven't read yet)
mika/bee asked for little to no smut, so i'm not gonna rec any pwp works here (with a few exceptions). if you want smut recs, hmu tho, i got y'all
there's obviously still smut in many of these fics, but i tried to tell you if it's important/skippable or not. if you don't mind smut i obviously recommend reading it bc GOD these authors just know their shit, but i think nobody should miss out on the amazing long fics just bc they don't like smut :)
i put a "notes" section for every fic where i just yap about it and/or my feelings towards it for a bit bc i literally can't shut up about these two guys.
alright, i think that's all, let's go!! pls tell me if i messed up the links somwhere :)
50k+ words
Lucky In Love by dr_girlfriend
words: ~60k
important tags: no powers AU, oh my god they were roommates!, friends to lovers, mutual pining
notes: every time i give winterhawk recs to a new fan i start with lucky in love, bc even tho it’s an AU, it has soo many of the typical winterhawk tropes i love so much. PLUS: roomates. and lucky. and every chapter is titled “aw, [something], no” and i find that way too funny to not mention. idk it’s just one of that fics that gives me the warmest & fuzziest of warm fuzzy feelings and i think everyone should read it.
smut: even tho it has the wonderful, wonderful tag “not gonna tag every sex act just trust me there’s plenty”, there’s actually not that many. in my opinion, the perfect amount for a 60k, 21 chapters winterhawk fic. it’s quite a slow-burn, so they’re only in the later chapters anyway, and the build up to it is soOoo good. this is one of the fics where i know exactly where to find the smut scenes so feel free to hmu.
Like Real People Do by Kangofu_CB
words: ~67k
important tags: “i actually just wanted to watch these two idiots fall in love in a secluded cabin ok”; civil war fix it
notes: no one, NO ONE gets me like this fic, it checks like every single one of my boxes. perfection. not lying when i say it’s my favorite fic of all time. it doesn’t have a special premise or anything, but that’s the good thing about it. it’s just so… cozy. comfy. feels like home. i can’t even remember if like real people do is my favorite hozier song because of this fic or if it’s my fav fic bc like real people do is my fav hozier song, but i know that i never cried as hard as i did when i heard lrpd live and could only think about this fic. nothing makes me feel as good as re-reading this story, i want to eat it.
smut: yes, but only like 2,5 scenes. hmu and i tell you the exact fucking paragraph number or smth, this fic is literally engraved in my soul. thank you CB. some day i’ll leave a 2k words comment on every single chapter.
The Other Man out of Time by sara_holmes
words: ~97k
important tags: time travel, falling in love, clint barton centric
notes: okay, objectively speaking: this is the best winterhawk fic in existence. not my absolute favorite bc it makes me cry too much, but definitely top 3. no other winterhawk fic made me sob this hard, no other winterhawk fic makes me wanna curl up on the floor and cry for an hour every time i think about it. that being said: IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING!!! and a lot of stuff in between is SO sweet as well. premise is basically: clint travels back in time and fights in wwii alongside bucky and they fall in love. and then bucky!canon happens. you get it? you get it. it’s- UGH it’s so good. jesus. i’m crying.
smut: a few short sexy scenes i think, but no SMUT smut, and it’s definitely definitely DEFINITELY not the focus of the story. can’t emphasise enough how much everyone should read this
Hipsters get Remembered, Legend’s Never Die by sara_holmes
words: ~90k
important tags: millennial bucky barnes, awesome clint barton, recovery
notes: millennial bucky is one of the most entertaining things fandom came up with, and this fic is the epitome of that trope. love love LOVE. plus, clint’s really fucking awesome in this.
smut: yes, but only like two or three times in 11 chapters, easily skippable
Puzzle Pieces (series) by sara_holmes
words: ~446k
important tags: steve/tony, kid fic, emotional hurt
notes: if you don’t like stony this one isn’t for you, just skip to next one :) if you like stony: GOD pls read puzzle pieces!! the first 200k words fic is stony focused and has only pre-slash winterhawk, but even tho they don’t get together in this one yet it’s literally one of my favorite clint/bucky portrayals of all time, no one gets them like sara, it’s perfect. the stony/kid fic storyline is SO amazing as well, so if that’s your cup of tea, check. it. out. after that they’re a few longer winterhawk instalments, and while some of them are really angsty and painful, there’s always a happy ending. god i need to re-read this entire thing. it makes me wanna cry and throw up in all the good ways.
smut: some, but you can definitely skip it.
I’ll keep you safe here with me by sara_holmes
words: ~110k
important tags: kidnapping, PTSD, mind control aftermath & recovery
notes: ngl i haven’t read this one in a long time, but everything by sara is perfect and this one’s one of the most kudo’d winterhawk fics, so it’s basically a must read. everyone needs to read a good clint & the winter soldier fic at least once
smut: it’s rated mature, so no really explicit smut. can’t remember if they don’t get a bit horny tho.
A Heart Worth Loving by Kangofu_CB
words: ~82k
important tages: soulmate AU, no powers AU, modern bucky barnes, forced cohabitation
notes: GOOD FUCKING SOUP. soulmate au AND they were roommates????? beat that. it takes them ages to figure out they’re soulmates, which makes this equally amazing and frustrating, but it’s all so so worth it
smut: yes, at the end of it. you CAN skip it, although i recommend skimming through it and read the dialogue parts and stuff.
if you were a mythical thing by Kangofu_CB
words: ~75k
important tags: teachers au, kid fic, werewolves
notes: quick story time for this one bc i remember it so so well lmao: winterhawk olympic bang 2022, most authors had started to post their fics except for CB and i KNEW she had written one, and i was literally checking my emails every hour for days. and then she finally posted it and i already started screaming when i saw the taylor lyrics as a title, and then i read those three tags and literally had to sit on my floor for 20 minutes to calm down bc i was so excited. i remember posting like 20 stories on my private insta that were just me keysmashing lmaoo. idk but teachers + kid fic + werewolves is just such a BONKERS combination, and i can promise you’re in for a treat, it’s so so fun. 15/10.
smut: yes, but it takes some time to get there and it’s skippable
Adventures in dogsitting by Call_Me_Kayyyyy
words: ~53k
important tags: friends to lovers, dogsitting, pining
notes: another olympic bang fic, thank you. cute, fun, lots of lucky content :) good soup
smut: NO SMUT
Under My skin (series) by finely honed
words: ~360k
important tags: Steve/Tony (the “main” instalment is stony focused), PTSD, Life after the army, AU - Tattoo Parlour
notes: the “first” instalment is a stony fic (one of my all time favs honestly) but with a lot of amazing side-winterhawk, and there’s a winterhawk spin-off, that’s a prequel to the stony arc, so you can just read that first if you want. it was one of the first english winterhawk fics i’ve ever read and it always makes me wanna cry when i think about it (in a good way).
smut: they’re quite horny in both big instalments, but i would say the smut is skippable. it’s not un-important for both the winterhawk and the stony dynamic tho, so i wouldn’t recommend doing that
This is Not a Date, it’s a Kidnapping by sara_holmes
words: ~50k
important tags: Fake Kidnapping, also real kidnapping, Bucky Barnes recovering, fake relationship
notes: all sara_holmes is good sara_holmes, but this one’s one of my favs, it’s just so fun. GOD i miss winterhawk olympic bang 2021, this was such a blast to read when it first came out!!
smut: NO SMUT
Freedom’s Reach by dr_girlfriend
words: ~68k
important tags: arranged marriage, western/historical AU, slow burn
notes: aaaand another winterhawk olympic bang 2021 fic! pretty sure this one was my fav during the bang, like i remember hitting up a friend of mine and screaming at each other for like an hour every time a new chapter dropped, we were SO invested. very good soup.
smut: yes, but it’s a sloooow build, so it’s only in the later chapters. pretty sure it’s easily skippable
ghost in the machine by squadrickchestopher
words: ~75k
important tags: fake character death, heavy angst, ghosts, loneliness
notes: UGHHHH clint “dies”, becomes a ghost and only bucky can see him. touch starved clint final boss basically. amazing shit. painful shit. (happy ending tho)
smut: it’s rated explicit and it’s by squaddy, so i’m like 99% sure there’s smut, i actually can’t remember tho lmao
Barton’s Halfway House for Ex-Brainwashed Assassins (series) by Kangofu_CB
words: ~90k
important tags: the slowest burn, the mcu reimagined completely, accidental baby acquisition, found family, kid fic
notes: this one’s an ongoing series, and it’s such an amazing one, you can feel all the love that’s been put into this. you have to go through like 60k of slow burn before winterhawk actually happens, but it’s soooo worth it. plus: kid fic. kid fic’s always good.
smut: yes, but only in the 3rd part and the short pwp oneshot. easily skippable
something magic, something tragic by squadrickchestopher
words: ~55k
important tags: supernatural elements, vampire bucky, enemies to lovers
notes: VAMPIRES!!! that should be enough to convince you to read this fic!! and it’s by squaddy, it literally can’t be bad if it’s by squaddy.
smut: ughhh not entirely sure, pretty sure the mature rating is mostly for violence, but, again, it’s squaddy, so it’s very possible there’s some sexy stuff hiding in there.
Sweet Home Was Home by there_must_be_a_lock
words: ~110k
important tags: “i sorta made my own franken-canon”, christmas fluff, soft feelings
notes: i found this one on accident once when i wasn’t really expecting to find another PERFECT long ass winterhawk fic i haven’t read yet, and then i binge-read it in one night, and it’s honestly one of the best i’ve ever read, it’s so so soft and… healing. for both bucky and clint and myself. it’s really not as popular as it should be imo, definitely worthy of a place on the first page of the ship tag!! highly HIGHLY recommend checking it out!!
smut: yes, but skippable
10k - 50k words
Starving for the Light by thepartyresponsible
words: ~45k
important tags: magic AU, soul bond
notes: jesus christ i wanna eat this fic so bad. definitely my favorite 2021 winterhawk olympic bang fic, it’s just THAT good. need to re-read it entirely to make sure, but i think it’s in my top 10 if not top 5 fav winterhawk fics of all time. clint’s just so… beautiful in this, idk how else to describe it. and idk, it has a such a unique premise and setting, i love everything about it.
smut: yes, but skippable.
Historic Features by flawedamythyst
words: ~19k
important tags: ghosts AU, homophobic violence
notes: oooohhh my god, don’t make me think about this fic i’m gonna cry. it’s actually pretty fun and cute and fucking awesome, but clint & bucky’s backstory in this?? i’m ugly crying, leave me alone. premise is basically: they’re ghosts and haunting the apartment they died in years ago, scaring everyone who tries to live there out of it. then steve and tony wanna move in. it’s fucking great.
smut: NO SMUT
Call It What You Want To by Kangofu_CB
words: ~48k
important tags: modern bucky barnes, sugar daddy
notes: clint becomes bucky’s sugar daddy on accident without realising and it’s the funniest fucking shit i’ve ever seen, god i love him so much. plus, again,,, millennial bucky barnes. gimme all the millennial bucky barnes.
smut: 3 or 4 scenes i think, starting as early as chapter… 2??? i think??? pretty skippable tho, as long as you read like the foreplay and everything.
A Thistle Cannot Grow by ccbytheseashore
words: ~12k
important tags: kid fic, developing relationship
notes: AHHHSDJGHSKJDHG. enough right?? i’m always a sucker for some good dad!clint & soft!bucky content. this one’s so so sweet it’s one of my main comfort fics, can’t recommend it enough if you love kid fics!
smut: yes, but it’s literally only like 500 words of frotting, you know when it’s coming and you know when it’s over :) (it’s amazing tho)
Attachments by Lissadiane
words: ~22k
important tags: high school au, mother hen bucky barnes, clint barton needs a hug
notes: i KNOW many people don’t like high school AUs and i don’t fucking care. teenage winterhawk has so much potential, i love them to death. which is exactly why you should read this ;)
smut: NO SMUT
Outnumbered by sara_holmes
words: ~18k
important tags: kid fic, triplets, no powers AU, bucky comes home to new york
notes: another single dad clint fic, but give him 3 boys this time!! —> chaos. amazing chaos. + amazing bucky. good soup.
smut: NO SMUT
Once Lost (now found) by Teeelsie
words: 40k
important tags: hurt clint barton, on the run, self sacrifice
notes: hurt clint barton final boss. this was written for whumptober, so you can imagine how bad it gets. SO worth it tho, even if you don’t really love that kind of stuff!
smut: NO SMUT (pretty sure clint’s too hurt to have any kind of sexual thoughts <3 stupid stupid stubborn man. i love him so much)
The Best Worst Thing (that hasn’t happened to you yet) by sara_holmes
words: ~48k
important tags: enemies to friends to lovers, rescue missions
notes: if you’re into comic winterhawk and read their tales of suspense run, you should definitely read this fic. if you haven’t read tales of suspense, go do that now and then come back to the fic, bc it’s basically a rewrite that gives us the bucky/clint & nat dynamic we fucking deserve
smut: don’t think so?
skylines and tan lines by flawedamythyst
words: ~33k
important tags: no powers AU, coronovirus lockdown, long distance flirting
notes: this was literally my fav fic during lockdown, i’m not lying when i say i read this at least 20 times in 2020/21 lmaoo. it’s just such a fun concept; bucky’s living with peggy/steve, and their dynamic is so enjoyable.
smut: there’s quite a bit of sexting & phone sex, plus a smut scene at the end. doesn’t take up the entire fic tho, and the rest is worth it as well.
Behind Bars by sara_holmes and Behind Bares (On The Other Side Remix) by flawedamythyst
words: ~32k (sara), ~25k (amy)
important tags: prison AU
notes: sara’s fic is the original, amy remixed it and wrote if from clint’s pov (with quite some changes). i love both fics, but i definitely read the remix more often and prefer it, but i highly recommend reading both, they’re amazing!! clint & bucky are cell mates!!! and it’s angsty!! a little bit!!
smut: can’t remember what it’s like in sara’s version, but it’s only rated mature soo... there’s definitely one or two smut scenes in amy’s fic, but easilyyy skippable, only like a few handjobs or smth i think.
What do you mean we left Clint on Mars? by sara_holmes
words: ~25k
important tags: outer space, falling in love, clint feels
notes: a classic. falling in love long-distance is soo fun, and i love it when author’s touch-starve clint, so there’s that <3
smut: NO SMUT
A Christmas Miracle: Getting Lucky by Lissadiane
words: ~11k
important tags: christams, hallmark fic
notes: LUCKY!!!! i read this every single christmas. you should too. you’re welcome.
smut: NO SMUT
Dear Super-Secret Diary by flawedamythyst
words: ~16k
important tags: christmas fluff
notes: clint is bored and gets a diary (and the guy). a christmas must-read, it’s fun and cute and fluffy!!! one of the few times i will accept first person narration bc, well, it’s a goddamn diary
smut: NO SMUT
winterhawk punks in love (series) by 1000_directions
words: ~19k words
important tags: punk au, amputee bucky, deaf clint, ptsd, emotional hurt/comfort, recovery
notes: punk!winterhawk is so important to me I NEED MORE OF IT!!! this one’s such a perfect mix of happiness and angst and comfort UGH it just hits that spot.
smut: yes, but the fic’s still amazing if u skip it
Apple Of My Eye by flawedamythyst
words: ~40k
important tags: clint barton’s farm, found family, domestic
notes: FARM FIC FARM FIC FARM FIC!!! bucky, clint and wanda basically start an apple business on his farm, and it’s just soo comfy and awesome.
smut: NO SMUT
Alone in the Bitterness by Lissadiane
words: ~16k
important tags: no pwers au, nurse bucky, disaster clint
notes: nurse bucky nurse bucky nurse bucky nurse bucky!!! do i have to say more??
smut: NO SMUT
Team Spirit by Noxnthea
words: 17k
important tags: case fic, enemies to lovers lite
notes: noxnthea is such an underrated author it’s a literal crime. i normally don’t love case fics that much, but this is a ghost hunters case fic AND their banter is so fun that it really doesn’t matter for me this time
smut: NO SMUT
Reach Out by Kangofu_CB
words: ~11k
important tags: 5+1, a lot of sex tags, porn with feelings, feelings realisation
notes: CB’s smut always hits different, and idk, the +1 of this is just sooo funny and adorable, i love it to death. read this more times than i’ll admit.
smut: basically pwp, big no no if you don’t like smut.
Storms Within (Bridges Rebuilt) by Kangofu_CB
words: ~11k
important tags: star wars setting, force sensitive bucky & clint, crack treated seriously
notes: guys you can’t imagine my excitement when the notif for this fic popped up in my emails. luke skywalker is one of my top 10 all time fav fictional characters AND HERE HE IS INTERACTING W MY FAV BOYS IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!! it’s so so good, if you’re into star wars you’re gonna love it!! (even if not, it’s by CB, impossible to not enjoy)
smut: NO SMUT
Draw, Breathe, Fire by FestiveFerret
words: ~15k
important tags: falling in love, flirting, banter
notes: haven’t read this in a long time, but i’m pretty sure it was like a perfect little bucky-recovering-and-falling-in-love-with-clint-while-living-in-the-tower-fic. he learns archery!! pretty sure they also adopt a ferret or something???? good shit
smut: NO SMUT
Hoist a Black Flag by Kangofu_CB
words: ~11k
important tags: pirate au
notes: ITS BASICALLY AN OFMD AU OKAY HOW CAN U NOT LOVE IT???
smut: yes, but skippable
Cupid’s Arrows by flawedamythyst
words: ~14k
important tags: office AU, valentine’s day
notes: clint dressed up as cupid, bad pick up lines, shenanigans. haven’t read this in quite a while, but i remember i enjoyed it A LOT a few years ago and re-read it multiple times!!
smut: NO SMUT
The Best Thing since a Double-Shot Expresso by sara_holmes
words: ~11k
important tags: coffee shop AU, misunderstandings, getting together
notes: friends to lovers final boss. they’ve been best friends (husbands) for years and literally live together, and it takes them an insane amount of jealousy and steve’s ass to finally get together. such a fun read, highly HIGHLY recommend
smut: NO SMUT
Habits of My Heart by Kangofu_CB
words: ~18k
important tags: Fuckbuddies to Lovers, no powers AU, grindr
notes: fuckbuddies to lovers with loads of pining will always be THE most realistic winterhawk depiction for me, sorry not sorry. this one’s extra fun bc steve and nat have been trying to set them up for months, but they’ve been already hooking up for months. it’s great.
smut: yes, but easily skippable.
In Which Peter Is Everyone’s Favourite Avenger by DestroyedConscience
words: ~25k
important tags: Twitter, everyone is gay, gen z humor
notes: look, this is an unfinished, non-winterhawk-centric twitter fic, but as a fellow winterhawk twitter fic author i just HAVE to recommend it. if u like this kind of thing, go check it out, it’s so fun :)
smut: NO SMUT
Look What The Cat Dragged In by flawedamythyst
words: 22k
important tags: Bucky Barnes is a cat lover, domestic fluff
notes: i haven’t read this in years, but i KNOW it was great. at this point just go check out amy’s account and read all of her winterhawk fics, she has over a hundred and they’re all great!! but this one has them co-parenting alpine, so it’s extra great!!
smut: NO SMUT
My Heart Will Be Your Home by dr_girlfriend
words: ~49k
important tags: soulmates au, single parent clint barton
notes: soulmate au plus kid fic guys, i repeat, SOULMATE AU PLUS KID FIC GUYS!!! BY DR GIRLFRIEND!!!! GOD i miss winterhawk olympic bang 21/22 this one was such a blast to read when it first came out.
smut: yes, but skippable
Chrome Plated Heart by dr_girlfriend
words: ~20k
important tags: pacific rim fusion
notes: i’ve never seen pacific rim and i still had a blast reading this one!! (she put a basic explanation for it somewhere in the story notes, so dw about it!!). it was SO nice to read a fic where they’re not heavily traumatised and just have a chill, easy getting together. really sweet stuff
smut: NO SMUT!!
Know When To Hold ‘Em by flawedamythyst
words: ~11k
important tags: exes to lovers, no powers au, cambling
notes: UGHHH i need more fics like this one, it’s so so SO good!! flashes back and forth to the time when they were first together and when they meet again and skjdghlksdhg my heart just hurts so much for both of them. (happy ending tho dw, clint’s just so sad in the present and it hurts my soul)
smut: yeah, the part in the present is basically just one big smut scene but it’s soOoOoO emotional and i always love me some emotional smut
Christmas in Colour by mariana_oconnor
words: ~12k
important tags: soulmates see in colour, christmas fluff
notes: SOULMATES SEE IN COLOUR !!!!! *swoons so hard she falls to the floor* top 3 best soulmates tropes i dont make the rules i love it so much. ESPECIALLY when it’s with a character like clint who usually has a colour he loves SO SO much. a christmas must read :)
smut: NO SMUT
Chaos By Another Name by shatteredhourglass
words: ~13k
important tags: dimension travel, time travel, friends to lovers
notes: DIMENSION-HOPPING TIME-TRAVEL ADVENTURE GUYS!!! why wouldn’t you wanna read it???
smut: yes
I Still Choose You (The Public Domain Remix) by mariana_oconnor
words: ~14k
important tags: soulmates at first kiss, fake/pretend relationship
notes: have a fic with two of the best tropes ever, you’re so very welcome. plus plus PLUS: demisexual bucky. as a demisexual/asexual/still trying to figure it out lesbian, i’m always ALWAYS here for any kind of ace spectrum winterhawk, so yeah.
smut: NO SMUT
the road rising up to meet me by veryrach
words: ~24k
important tags: pining, sexual reawakening, chaotic slutty clint barton
notes: MORE DEMISEXUAL BUCKY!!! AND HOT CLINT!!! no other words needed. read it.
smut: i’m so sorry but i can’t remember if it gets SMUTTY smutty. but there’s definitely a lot of sexual themes i mean look at the tags lmao
Showdown by shatteredhourglass
words: ~14k
important tags: fake/pretend relationship; fluff
notes: breaking my silence: fake dating might me my fav trope of all time. in this one they’re pretending to date for the sole purpose of annoying steve and tony and i think that’s the best thing ever.
smut: NO SMUT
Light the Spark by dr_girlfriend
words: ~26k
important tags: fake/pretend relationship, mutual pining, enemies to friends to lovers
notes: aaaand the next fake dating fic >:) the enemies arc is like 0.2 seconds, blink and you miss it, but whoooo cares, we’re here for the fake dating & pining guys!!!
smut: yes, but you can skip it!
-10k words
Wine and Pine by feathers_and_cigarettes
words: 6k
Important tags: Touch-Starved, Fake Marriage, pining!clint
Notes: this is one of those fics i always come back to without realising and it always hits that spot. like i said, fake dating is my favorite trope, and MISSION fake dating???? i'm in heaven
smut: there’s quite a bit of smut, but it’s at the end and even if you stop reading after they kiss it’s really worth it.
Over Easy by Lissadiane
words: ~9k
important tags: hook up gone awry, awkwardly crashing the birth of a baby
notes: need y’all to know that this has one of my all time fav smut scenes, i kinda know it by heart. don’t quote me on that, this is our secret. this one’s just so so SO much fun, i’m having the time of my life every time i read it (which is at least like once a month)
smut: yes, and it’s kinda the best part, but everything else is so fun as well that i really wouldn’t wanna miss out on it
The Love You Deserve by flawedamythyst
words: ~8k
important tags: unhappy family holidays, homophobia, family issues, jewish bucky barnes
notes: another must-read christmas fic for me; clint goes home for christmas to an uncle of his or something but they all turn out to be homophobic assholes or something and then bucky shows up to save the day <3
smut: NO SMUT
what you really, really want by Noxnthea
words: ~8k
important tags: pining, misunderstandings
notes: *blurts out* THEYVE BEEN IN LOVE FOR AGES AND THEN WANDA HEXES THEM SO THEY THINK THEVE BEEN DATING FOR YEARS!!! this is SUCH an underrated fic, it doesn’t even have 200 kudos like wtf??? SHOW IT SOME LOVE!!!
smut: NO SMUT
The 300 Club by Noxnthea
words: ~10k
important tags: no powers au, scientist clint & bucky
notes: there aren’t enough scientist winterhawk AUs so HUGE THANKS noxnthea for feeding us. i will literally haunt you if you don’t read this one, ITS SO UNDERRATED!!! AND SO FUN!!
smut: NO SMUT
For Everything There is A Season by dr_girlfriend
words: ~9.7k
important tags: crack fic, secret service agent!bucky, small business owner!clint barton
notes: crack fics are always gold and this one especially, it’s such a ridiculous idea, how could you not love it? always a very fun read!
smut: NO SMUT
Background Noise by Reremouse
words: ~8k
important tags: modern au, deaf clint barton
notes: MILLENIAL BUCKY!!! clint is bucky’s upstairs neighbour and extremely loud bc he’s well… deaf. lol. and bucky’s a night shift worker which really isn’t a good combo on first thought. but on second thought, these are clint and bucky, so OBVIOUSLY they’re gonna make a great combo out of it. it’s fuckign amazing. plus bucky & sam friendship!! good shit guys, good shit.
smut: NO SMUT
you didn’t hear that by jedusaur
words: ~2.6k
important tags: roomates, eavesdropping
notes: super self-indulgent rec, i always read this one when i need some cheering up lmao it’s just so fun and they’re kinda nasty and UGH. love. it explores the range of bucky’s super hearing. do with that what you want.
smut: yes. it explores the range of bucky’s super hearing in every way ;)
one more time by squadrickchestopher
words: ~4k
important tags: touch starved, hurt clint barton
notes: i don’t even know why i love this one so much, but it holds SUCH a special place in my heart. it might be my undying love for touch starved!clint who finally gets his well-needed hugs by bucky. there’s also an amazing podfic by flowerparrish for it, make sure to give kudso to them both!!!
smut: NO SMUT
the salt on your lips by veryrach
words: ~9k
important tags: kissing, an absolutely ridiculous lack of communication
notes: exactly what the tags say. it’s a 5+1 as well, WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED IN LIFE???? 10/10. i remember waiting for months for the last few chapters and it was SO worth it!!
smut: NO SMUT
Love Potion No. 10 by Kangofu_CB
words: ~8k
important tags: love potion/spell, not actually unrequited love
notes: i won’t say anything about the story bc i don’t wanna spoiler it, but i’ll say that i re-read the second half of it at least once a month, it’s just THAT sweet.
smut: NO SMUT
There’s No ‘I’ In Denial by flawedamythyst
words: ~5k
important tags: truth spells
notes: clint gets hit by a magic truth gun and can’t lie anymore. such a fun & cute read every single time.
smut: NO SMUT
The Name of the Game by squadrickchestopher
words: ~6k
important tags: competition, trash talking, feelings realization
notes: this one’s just so so fun, it has allllllll the winterhawk banter anyone could ask for. and i always love me some competitive idiots in love
smut: NO SMUT
Full Barton by aw_writing_no
words: ~6k
important tags: no powers au, cop!bucky, human disaster clint
notes: what the tags say. clint embarrassing himself in front of bucky who enjoys it a bit too much gotta be one of my fav tropes.
smut: NO SMUT
one more little mistake by shatteredhourglass
words: ~3k
important tags: clint barton wears glasses, bucky barnes is horny for clint barton
notes: these tags are basically the entire fic lmaooo. it’s great, i love nothing more than HOT HOT HOT clint barton and bucky realising how hot he is
smut: almost lmao (they get interrupted while making out)
my hands no longer an afterthought by shatteredhourglass
words: ~3k
important tags: getting back together
notes: i have a sweet sweet SWEET spot for winterhawk getting back togethers if handled well, and this one handles it soo well.
smut: NO SMUT
Five Lies People Believe About Clint and Bucky by EVVS
words: ~1.5k
important tags: established relationship
notes: this is one of those fics i always go back to if i have a few minutes and need some (bitter)sweet fluff. it’s exactly what the title says, some lies are fun, some are painful, and all of them just hit that spot
smut: NO SMUT
My Sausage Brings Alll the Boys To The Yard by flawedamythyst
words: ~1.7k
important tags: bad flirting
notes: this one’s so stupid it probably shouldn’t be on here but i remember how i was reading this in class for the first time when i was still in school and i was almost pissing myself bc it made me laugh so hard. very fun, go read it >:(
smut: NO SMUT
bonus for the freaks:
Filthy Porn Fridays by squadrickchestopher
there’s 18 works so far, it’s smut smut smut aaaand - you guessed it - smut. if you wanna see the boys fuck nastily, this is your place to be.
(delicate tension is the best fic of the series, it’s actually a roadtrip AU and not just smut, highly highly recommend)
alrightyyy, i think that's it for now :) this took me quite some time so i'd appreciate some reblogs or whatever!! we need to spread some winterhawk love guys!!
all my love goes out to every author i mentioned here, and every other author who's ever written winterhawk. you guys are my heroes, idk what i'd do without you. literally ripping my heart into a thousand pieces and giving every single one of you a tiny part 💜
#this is the most important post i’ve ever done pls appreciate it#winterhawk fics#winterhawk fic recs#clint barton#fic recs#winterhawk#bucky barnes#hawkeye#the winter soldier#clint x bucky#ao3#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfic rec#fandom#fanfic author#hozier#taylor swift#amy talks#marvel#avengers#marvel comics#marvel fanfics#marvel fics
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number 17 (smut)with Sirius Black plss!(u can always say no :) )
(Can I be roach anon?)
Ofccc 🙏🏻 ty for the req🙏🏻
Too Sweet
Summary: Your boyfriend, Sirius Black, asks to eat you out for the first time.
Pairings: experienced!Sirius Black x virgin!Fem!reader
Warnings: language, smut, oral(f receiving), fingering, making out, color system, spit, cumming in pants, hair pulling, pet names, squirting, a smidge of overstimulation, being walked in on, etc.
Prompt: 17.) “Sit on my face”
A/N: reader and Sirius are in their 7th year and are aged to 18 but you can imagine them however you want. Title is inspired by the song Too Sweet by Hozier.
You were sure you hadn’t heard him right. Or he had to be joking. You were hanging out with Sirius in his empty dorm, the two of you had only been dating for a few months now, friends even longer than that. Sirius was your first boyfriend, he was practically your first everything. The only first he could never take was your first kiss which had been stolen by James Potter.
Earlier in the day the raven haired boy had invited you to his dorm when classes end, his roommates all busy in the afternoon. You expected your usual routine, listen to music, talk, smoke, make out.
Everything went as planned until the two of you were making out. You were laid on Sirius’ bed, him on top of you massaging your tongue with his. He pulled away from you suddenly, out of breath, “Sit on my face.”
“Pardon?” You were’t sure how to react.
“I said sit on my face. If you’re not ready yet that’s just fine, darling.” Sirius reassurance made you feel better and you would be lying if you said you weren’t soaked.
“Um, are you sure?” You had no idea why you were asking him if he was sure.
“Of course I am, darling, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” The pervert in you got wetter at his words.
You pulled the male forward into a searing kiss. Sirius took that as a yes and flipped you so that you were straddling him. You pulled away, unbuttoned your dress shirt and pulled off your tie. Sirius moved to kiss down your neck, leaving hickeys in his wake.
“You’re so beautiful,” the compliment caught you off guard.
You shoved the boy’s face between your bra-clad tits. Sirius waisted no time with unclasping your bra so he could latch his mouth onto your chest without a barrier.
The minute Sirius got a view of your bare chest he was in awe. Sirius latched onto one nipple and started pinching and slapping at the other one.
“Mm! Too much!” The force he used was borderline painful. Sirius pulled back with an apologetic expression, “I’m sorry, love. You want to move on to the main course?” And just like that, his devilish smirk was back.
You stood up wordlessly and peeled off your plaid skirt and panties in a seductive manner. You gave Sirius a mini-show and when you turned to face him you could see he was incredibly hard.
You went to climb back on top of the boy but he stopped you. “First I need to hear you say you want this,” Sirius spoke.
“I want you, Sirius. I want to sit on your face.” You sounded desperate and you couldn’t care less.
“Are you familiar with the color system?” He was so sweet with the way he asked. You shook your head, unsure. “Green means we’re good to keep going, red means stop. Simple enough?” You nodded your head.
Sirius pulled you onto him and adjusted you to hover over his face. Your bare pussy was about an inch from his face, Sirius spat on your clit and circled it with his thumb.
“Fuck- Sirius,” you moaned out.
“You’re already soaked. Me kissing you got you that worked up?” He asked rhetorically.
You nodded your head, your eyes with shut tight and your bottom lip was between your teeth. You were shocked by how different Sirius’ fingers felt compared to yours, his were so much more rough and larger. Sirius slapped your ass and gave it a squeeze before he ducked his hand down to finger your pussy from behind.
Sirius inserted a finger into your tight hole, he worked his fingers to match the same pace as he rubbed your clit and thrusted his finger inside of you. After a few minutes like that Sirius inserted another finger inside of you, as well as replacing his left hand, which had been circling your clit, with his mouth.
Sirius pulled your weight down onto his face and started lapping at your cunt. Sirius pulled away for a second, “What color, Sweetheart?”
You responded quicker than you ever have in your life, “Green!” And then Sirius was back to work. You felt like he was making out with your pussy but you were in utter bliss. Your hands moved from the pillows to Sirius’ hair, you heard him groan in pleasure when you tugged on his black locks of hair. You did it again and ground into his face.
Sirius used his free left hand to grab your ass roughly. You were moaning pornographicly, you were sure the two of you were going to get in trouble. Sirius lapped at your folds, not a care in the world.
“Sh-shit! Just like that!” Sirius was alternating between sucking on your clit to lapping at your folds and clit. His fingers worked a fast, steady rhythm. He curled his index and middle fingers to hit that spot that made you see white.
Sirius groaned against your pussy and praised you, “Such a good girl f’me.”
You could feel yourself getting closer, you started practically riding Sirius’ face and fingers. At first Sirius paused to get a sight of such a beautiful scene but quickly kept going. He changed his fingers pace to meet yours and started devouring your pussy. Sirius was enjoying this as much as you, he had already came in his pants, he felt like he was in a fantasy right now.
As you practically rode Sirius you think about how lewd this entire thing is. The sound of him slurping on your juices and the clapping of your ass against his hand, the stench of sex, the sight of him under you, it was all so addicting. As you got closer to your high Sirius plunges a third finger inside of you and curls his fingers inside of you.
Immediately you squirt everywhere. On his face, shirt, hand, sheets and pillows, everywhere. And Sirius fucking loved it, he swore he could cum again if he hadn’t already. He withdrew his fingers and licked them clean when he was done he licked a stripe up your pussy causing you to squirm in overstimulation.
Sirius was in awe at the entire situation before him, he swore he had died and went to heaven. Sirius allowed you to pull yourself off of him and lay next to him. You tried to catch your breath, still in shock. You couldn’t help noticing the wet patch on Sirius’ pants but before you could call him out, the door opened.
In came, James, Remus, and Peter. The three boys stopped in their tracks jaw dropped, Remus simply shut the door and left you two alone. You simply looked at each other in shock, laying there.
“Uh oh.”
I hope you enjoy, 🪳 anon! Sorry this wasn’t longer. Not Proofread!
#smut#ཐི♡ཋྀpeanut ཐི♡ཋྀ#harry potter#hp marauders#marauders era#sirius black x reader#sirius x reader#sirius black#sirius orion black#sirius black x fem!reader#sirius black smut
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Outpace the dawn
Gif by @silverformymonsters
Summary: BG3 Spawn ending Fix It fic! Because I refuse to let him deal with the sunlight alone.
Pairing: Astarion x Reader
Warnings/tags: SPOILERS obvsly, angst/comfort, non canon compliant.
Words count: 936 words.
A/N: It should be Gender Neutral, but if I fcked up since I tend to write from my pov, you can tell me and I'll correct it.
Yes the title is from that Hozier song. It got me thinking how Astarion would need to outpace the dawn from now on.
Astarion’s voice cut through the silence that followed your last battle, as your little group was gathering on a pontoon.
“So, what’s next for us?”
You had been thinking about what was to come for a while, actually. Probably longer than any of your companions have. Some might argue that it wasn’t the time for that, that you should have been completely focused on defeating the Netherbrain. But you couldn’t help it; it was a matter of life and death - Astarion’s life and death. Or rather, undeath and death. Since you’ve known that the brain was within reach, it had become an omnipresent apprehension in your mind.
The slaughter of the brain sounded the death knell of the tadpoles, and their disappearance inevitably meant that Astarion’s resistance to the sun would vanish like it never existed. Like nature rightfully reasserting itself by getting rid of this aberration that had been a vampire walking in the sun in the first place.
This knowledge has been haunting you for days and nights now. It was your first thought when you woke up and your last when you fell asleep. A knot of dread had settled inside your stomach, making it hard to fall asleep and to interact normally with the source of your worries. And right now, following Astarion’s question, the knot in your guts got even tighter, even more painful.
At any moment, any second from now on, your vampire lover would catch fire as surely as straw in the summer.
It was fine. You planned. You prepared for this. You procured a large, thick, hooded coat that was guaranteed to block the sunrays. It was even imbued with magic that made it impossible to tear, pierce, or rip in any way. It hadn’t been easy to acquire, but Astarion didn’t need to know that.
You were on the lookout for any sign of burning, wound as tightly as a spring while still trying to appear normal to the others.
“The world is our oyster, and she has many pearls we can choose from.” claimed Astarion, blissfully unaware of his fate.
He illustrated his remarks by spreading his arms far apart with vigor. The genuine excitement, the happiness in his voice almost made you sick to your stomach. Astarion’s displays of authentic joy were few and far in between, and this one would end as soon as it started. As fast as a vampire spawn left in the sun, as a pile of ashes on the ground.
You could barely bear to look at him. You didn’t have the heart to remind him of his imminent doom. He obviously had forgotten about it for the time being, and while the cruel reality was taking up almost all the space in your brain, like blaring alarms, you’d be damned if you took away from him his last, his only instants of light and warmth, of complete freedom, by reminding him. No Cazador, no tadpole, no mind control, no deadly sunlight, no slave and no master. Just an immense ocean of liberty, intoxicating, vertiginous.
“I honestly don’t mind what we do, once we get to- Ow!”
You instantly straightened up at the sound, like a wild animal who picked up the sound of an upcoming danger. For a terrible second, there was a twisted part of you who felt relieved. Finally, your gnawing, agonizing wait was coming to an end. Then, swiftly, the relief disappeared, flooded with your concern for Astarion.
“What the- Oh no. Oh Gods.”
Already his hands were fuming, his beautiful pale face sprinkled with silververy cracks like delicate porcelain. He had always looked more like a piece of art than a living being after all. The frantic panic in his voice was like a punch to the chest. In all your battles and struggles together, you had never seen him so horrified. Even against Cazador. Even a True Vampire had to yield to the Sun.
He threw you a harrowing look, like he was bidding you goodbye before bolting. As if you were going to leave him to deal with this alone. Already you were rushing towards him, the life-saving coat in hands. You wrapped it around him as fast as your hands would allow, put the hood on, and gently grabbed him by the shoulder, turning him so his covered back would take the blunt of the light.
“There we go, you explained softly. This will block the sun.”
“You’ve got this, and I’ve got you.” you added, mirroring his own words.
You were smiling sadly, trying to be supportive, to not add to his burden. The look in his eyes was hard to describe, an intense blend of heartbreak, vulnerability, and gratefulness.
“Well… It was… it was nice while it lasted.” he managed to articulate, his voice breaking like he was about to cry.
You could feel your heart break in response like an echo.
The magic sunproof coat was in no way a solution. Barely a bandage on a sinking ship. You had to get out of the sun, quickly.
“Come on, love. Let’s get you some shadow, uh?”
Your encouraging smile was as fragile as a spiderweb. You could feel it teetering on the edge of an abyss.
Astarion simply nodded, like he didn’t trust his voice anymore. It was fine. He was already expressing so much through his gaze.
You put your hand on the small of his back, barely applying any pressure, threw a telling look over your shoulder at your other companions, and you both started your search for protective darkness between the walls of Baldur’s Gate.
#bg3#baldur's gate 3#bg3 spoilers#astarion#bg3 astarion#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion x you#astarion fanfic#fanfic#fic#bg3 fanfiction#yes i know i said i was doing rolan - lol - but i already written half of this one so i might as well finish it right?
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Chapter Six - Wasteland, Baby!
knight!benjicot blackwood x princess!reader
word count: 6.6k
warnings: mentions of violence, arranged marriage
song: Wasteland, Baby! - Hozier
a/n: she juicyyy
“Rather small, isn’t it?”
Benji snorts next to you, but you don’t find it humorous.
The castle is small. Not even remotely comparable to what you are used to.
Which you would not mind, if it didn’t showcase so blatantly how little your father cared about where he had sent you off to.
Not remotely deserving of your status.
You clutch the reins and nudge Fury forward, breaking from your cluster of company until you were the one leading them up to the gates.
You don’t exactly do it to spite anyone. In fact, you’re not even sure if this is wrong. Traditionally your suitors would have to travel to you and not the other way around, but you figure being the first face seen would perhaps assert some kind of dominance that you so clearly lack otherwise.
You try not to think of the fact that Benji had shared a bed with you last night.
Not in a promiscuous fashion, at all, but because you were embarrassingly overwhelmed with the way your life was moving forward at the moment.
Now you won’t really look at him again, and it pains you a little bit, but you had to at least somewhat have your head in the right place when meeting your future husband.
The sun is shining today. Perhaps it’s a good sign.
Somebody yells something, an introduction of some sort, trumpets sound out and the gate creaks open.
It whirls up grey dust that stains the shiny black of your dress.
Marion had snuck it in for you, you were certain, nobody else would have approved a mourning gown to meet your Lord Husband.
Sitting on your horse like this, you melt into one, colourwise. It makes you look taller, stronger, powerful.
You trot forward, across the small bridge and into the court of the castle.
Lord Cathcart has his arms flung open, a wide grin on his face. You can’t bring yourself to return the small.
“Ah, the princess of the realm in my humble abode,” he greets you and finally as though saying your title reminded him, he bows.
Briefly, not appropriately low enough.
You nod at him, unwilling to get off your horse just yet. “Lord Cathcart.”
He makes a discarding hand gesture. “Please, call me Erik.”
“Erik.”
He doesn’t look bad. Of course not, neither does his sister. They’re both bronze-haired beauties, not particularly the kind of beauty you cared for, but undeniably beautiful nonetheless.
“I hope your travels were safe,” he continues. It is a painfully uncomfortable ordeal.
You glance at the castle residents, all lined up behind him, none of them moving and all of them staring at you as though you were perhaps a particularly interesting cow.
Livestock is becoming increasingly relatable to you as time goes on.
You haven’t answered yet. “Yes. No disturbances.”
Erik stares at your dress but then decides he would not address it.
Fury trudges forward until she is face to face with him, and you want to feel bad for the way he flinches at her height.
“Well then,” he croaks out. Your eyes flit over to Benji, who unlike you, is not concealing his amusement at all. “I suppose you will want to get rest and settle down in your chambers.”
You nod. “Very much so, my lord.”
Somebody is whispering something, eyes filled with curiosity and confusion.
You can’t blame them, the picture that is commonly painted of you — soft, sweet, kind — doesn’t exactly align with the entrance you’ve just made.
It is quite foreign. To remain seated. To not do the polite thing. It isn’t as though you’re being rude or as though you’re obliged to appease these people. The only reason you’ve ever done it was to be nice and you really don’t have the energy to be nice today.
“Lord Cathcart, I should inform you that her Highness’s horse Fury is unfortunately stubborn. The princess prefers to bring her to the stables herself,” Benji says. The sentence is shaped like a cautious reminder but his voice has an edge to it. You wonder now, whether the edge is natural.
Lord Cathcart nods, eager, excited, like a dog who’s been shown a bone.
“Where To then?”
“Oh, of course!” There’s a strand of hair that bounces. Like a tail. Many dog similarities about the man. “My stable boy will lead the way.”
A young lad breaks from the row and bows to you before approaching.
“Ma’am,” he mumbles.
Ma’am?
You open your mouth to correct him, but a loud smacking sound interrupts you. Your mouth falls agape in horror. Lord Cathcart had struck the boy.
“It is ‘your highness’, you fool,” he yells. Then he turns to you, wide-grinned once more, as though he had painted an entirely new painting in the blink of an eye. “Apologies, we aren’t quite used to such important visits here.”
You want to vomit. “Ser Benjicot and I will go ahead. The rest of you may wait.” You slide off Fury, grab her by the reins. “Come on, sweetling.”
The boy mumbles his sorrows through welled-up tears as he scurries across the court toward the stables, you and your knight right behind.
Once you are out of sight, tucked away behind the oaken doors, you rest your hand on the boy’s shoulder and force him to face you.
He’s perhaps three and ten moons, by the looks of it. He looks a bit like Tristan did at his age, but rougher around the edges than a young prince would be.
“You may call me anything you want,” you tell the boy.
He looks up at you. “My apologies, my highness.”
Benji chokes a laugh. You send him a warning look.
“If you wish to call me so, you would have to say ‘your highness’,” you correct him. “But you mustn’t worry. If you wish, you can even call me by my name.”
The boy nods. “My apologies, again.”
He doesn’t look convinced. Matter of fact, he looks as though he’s waiting to find himself trapped somehow.
You retract your hand and tilt your head. “How often does Lord Cathcart get violent?”
His eyes widen. “I don’t- His father before him– I don’t know, ma– uh, your highness.”
When you look at Benji once more, as though he might have an explanation for this dilemma, he has a face like a knife ready to be swung.
“Well, if I am to wed him, then things will have to change around here.”
Still, he doesn’t believe you but he doesn’t seem the type to disagree with you either and so you simply guide Fury to her resting place for the next few weeks. Or moons or years.
She doesn’t seem all too pleased, a spoiled girl, used to palace stables and quality carrots reserved for her.
“Marvellous first impression,” Benji huffs at you.
“What, on my part?”
He’s close to you suddenly and you wish that you didn’t enjoy it as much as you do. He somehow smells intriguing. “Obviously on your part. What kind of man strikes a child?”
You don’t unsaddle your horse, it is not your duty to do so but you rest your head against her side and sigh deeply. “Lord,” you sigh out and if it weren’t for the deeply rooted feeling of nothingness you would have probably cried.
Benji rests a hand on your shoulder. He’s behind you, an arm’s length of distance and yet you suddenly are struck by the thought of how distant he actually is from you, how you had fallen asleep in his arms, likely even drooled on him in your sleep and yet he is still your knight. Nothing more, nothing less. Bound to you and not a friend. Or a lover.
“I shall rest,” you cough up. “I shall rest,” you cough up. You cannot face him and you wonder if you could ever again do so, knowing who you were set to marry and knowing what might have happened in another life. You wish you had some sort of consolation.
Like perhaps your betrothed might not be the kind of man to strike his servants, but you do not and so you wish to go to your chambers and stare at the ceiling for the next few hours..
When you emerge onto the court you do not bother to walk back to Lord Cathcart.
"I shall see to it that I get my rest now, my lord. There will be room to talk another time."
He is narrowing his eyes at you. Be that because he is suspicious of your behaviour or because he cannot see you well from where he is standing, but he hurries towards you on his slender limbs. "I will see you to your rooms, your highness. If you wish, we can have a bath drawn for you."
A bath was not a bad idea at all, you must smell of horse and sweat and uncomfortable humidity but for some reason you cannot fathom the thought of doing anything at all.
"No thank you. I will bathe before supper has come and passed, but for now, my bones are too tired."
He pushes out his bottom lip in an odd childish manner, as though your rejection had hurt him in some way. Such a peculiar man. "Follow me," he says. "We have prepared your room the best way possible."
You nod and then glance at your entourage, still standing around, looking morbidly out of place. Capital men, your young new maid, none of them of high status and yet they are engulfed in a blanket of regality by comparison to the courtier's of Lord Cathcart.
"Say, where will my people be staying? And my knight?"
Erik offers Benji a more than disapproving look. "Downstairs, where they are in the best position to protect you."
A huff escapes you, at his disregard of rules. "Erik," it drags across your tongue like the bitterest of poisons. "My knight is to wait outside my door until nightfall where he is replaced with a member of the King's guard. Must I remind you of protocol, so early on in our courtship?"
"I have guards of my own, and you will be my wife soon. You are no longer in need of anyone else."
By god, you would have jumped at a chance like this, to be rid of your guards, the most luxurious prison of all, just a few moons ago. But now, as you stand there, you suddenly feel as though protection at all times is much more important than you had previously thought.
"We are to be married, on that I agree, my lord, however, it is of the utmost importance that my dignity is not compromised beforehand. Therefore my guards will keep watch until God in heaven has blessed this arrangement."
You give him the most saccharine of smiles, so sweet it would make your teeth hurt. "I'm sure you understand."
He clears his throat and looks back and forth between Benji and you and then over at your father's men. Really, they are more Tristan's than the king's at this point. Loyal to you either way.
Young Lord Cathcart shakes his head as though he is trying to get rid of something and then he grins his idiotic grin. "Why of course, your highness. I suppose it is better to be safe than sorry."
"I am certain you will have no trouble accommodating the lot of us. It is a small castle but it shall do."
You speak the tongue of the snake now. Never in your life have you made comments like this. Never had you been one to participate in the ill-speaking of others.
You had listened to gossip, had grasped at the tiniest bits of information the loose tongue of any lady would give you and soaked it up to safely put away into a corner of your mind. Knowledge is power.
Never in your life had you returned the favour to those who would gossip. Not one secret had fallen from your lips, not the slightest of jabs at whether somebody was getting quite rounded around the belly, or that they had worn the same dress on one too many occasions.
It doesn't feel as good as you had imagined it to, to be a participant now. With how much people talk and talk and talk, you had figured it would be more fun being mean, but you cannot ignore the uneasy pit in your stomach.
Lord Cathcart leads you to your chambers,, Tamsyn, your new maid hot on your heels, Benji to your right, your left arm looped through that of your betrothed and it feels as if you're walking toward your execution.
Hours later, you find yourself bathed and dressed in the most god-forsaken gown you have ever put on your body.
You are dressed as a peacock.
And worse so, you are wearing an old dress of Lady Cathcart's. You know it because she had worn it to the very costume ball at which it had become blatantly obvious that sin was afoot between your father and her.
Tamsyn is working hard at your face, perhaps she is hoping to take away from the fact that there are humongous feathers attached to your back. You wonder how much the dress must have cost just for it to be so desperately ugly that you want to scratch your eyes out upon seeing your reflection in the mirror.
"Tamsyn?" You whisper.
She croaks out a yes. Poor thing, so far from home, you think to yourself.
"Have you ever heard anyone speak of Lord Cathcart?"
She pauses, cheeks cherub-red, powdered brush frozen in front of your face.
"What do you mean, princess?"
You shrug. "Just that young boy from earlier. Have you heard of such behaviour before we came here?"
Her expression is that of a trapped animal. "I do not know if what I hear is true, princess. People talk a lot at the capital."
So she had. You wonder who else had heard of these matters and had not spoken up. People in power. Not your maid, but rather so the other Lords, the Barons, Dukes, Viscounts. Who had known what was happening and had let it happen? Who had known where they were sending you and had let you go? Has your father known?
You can picture it. Your father, with his red face and his horrid slur, laying in the bed he had shared with your mother, Lady Cathcart there as they laugh about the mean joke they would impose on you. Oh what a joy to send your child away, your daughter who carries her mother's face, whose disdain for your actions you cannot escape. What fun, to have her marry so low, to have her be forgotten by history as an unimportant Lady married to a weak, little man.
"Princess, may I speak freely?" Tamsyn says, no whispers.
You look into her big brown eyes. "Always."
"Your father has made a mistake sending you away. The people of the city barely tolerate him these days. They starve while he feasts upon their animals. They like you. Perhaps even love you. Times are changing...," she trails off. "I fear if something is not done, the people might do it themselves."
A knock sounds through the room and you nearly jump out of your skin, haunted by her soft and tender voice and her harsh and haunting words.
"Your highness, Lord Cathcart, wishes to see you," Benji says. "Are you decent?"
"NO!" you exclaim, louder than need-be. "He will see me once I make my way downstairs."
You think you hear a bit of a commotion on the other side but it quickly dispels.
Carefully you take Tamsyn's hand. "Whatever do you mean?"
She swallows thickly. Her moment's courage is gone.
"It is not treason to warn me of things," you mumble. "I would not betray your trust."
She nods but she doesn't wish to speak further and you are concerned that if you push too hard now that she may never speak again.
Another knock. "What?" You yell out across the room, more than annoyed.
With much care the door is opened and Benji walks in backwards, for modesty's sake.
"I'm decent Ser Benjicot."
He turns around and you wish you could wipe that expression of amusement right off his face.
"What?" you repeat.
He tilts his head. "Just here to report that Lord Cathcart has urged you to hurry up, as he would like to have dinner before sundown. Apparently the lighting is marvellous during."
You take the powder from Tamsyn, any more and you might have looked like a jester, anyways. "Let us go then. If Lord Cathcart insists upon it then so be it."
As you get up you damn near fall over, dragged down by the weight of your dress. All the curses in the world, you mentally send to Lady Cathcart.
"Do not say anything," you threaten your knight who has to fight his laughter harder by the second.
To make matters worse, the Lord of the house had sent a tiara with equally oversized feathers attached to it for you to wear.
You do not pride yourself in being fantastically tasteful like your sister Cordelia but you know for certain that you never could have come up with an atrocity of this scale in a million years.
You loop your arm through Benji's, praying that you will not stumble down the stairs to your death. Or perhaps that might be a kind fate, rather than having to spend the remainder of your life attached to a spiteful gnome.
But then, who would Benji have to offer his arm to?
Surely somebody, you remind yourself. He is a renowned rebellious man. It would be a miracle had he never lain with a woman before.
It crosses your mind that you have no reason to be thinking about this and so you push these thoughts back.
The pair of you walk through weird and winding corridors, decorated with stuffed animals and you stare at them as they watch you pass them by. "Have you heard of any commotion back at the capital?" you whisper to your knight.
He tenses beneath your touch. "Why do you ask?"
"Just— No reason. But I was thinking of my friends." You cough. They are not your friends, rather than simply people who you've offered your service to. "And they seemed so tense when I last saw them."
You don't need to look at him to know he is raising his eyebrow. "And when was that?" He asks with a tone of great authority for somebody of his rank.
"Before you were here. You know of my sole attempt, Ser Benjicot."
He takes a sharp turn to the left and you nearly trip.
You had never been known to trip. It bothers you greatly, how swiftly things seemed to be changing at the moment.
Benji sighs. "Nobody is quite happy with how things have been going along in the kingdom. After the death of your mother and the removal of Ser Attenborough from the position of hand the smallfolk has been growing uneasy."
You glance over your shoulder. Is it dangerous to speak so freely in a foreign place? Likely. "Is there reason to fear?"
For my brother. My sister who is visiting. For Marion even. For all the people at court that aren't corrupted by their own wealth.
Benji doesn't answer for a moment. "It is not yours to worry over such matters."
Of course. You scoff but you cannot be offended in truth, for you know that he is right. What would you even do? You held no true power, all you could do is warn Tristan and even so, what would you warn him about? Everyone knows of the dire situation in the kingdom.
You take another turn and you are not sure you would be able to find your way through this castle by your lonesome, as topsy-turvy as it is.
Finally you reach the grand hall and the sight before you is chilling. There are no guests at all.
Erik is sitting at the head of the table, whispering to a priest.
Servants stand in row along the cobbled and dark walls, statues or perhaps living dolls.
A shudder runs down your spine.
"Lord Cathcart," your voice chimes through the long room, reverberating from its hollowness. You've never particularly enjoyed hearing your own voice so intensely.
His eyes shoot up and his teeth are bared. "Your highness! My, you look just marvellous. Peacock is certainly your colour."
If it is a joke you don't laugh. Your smile is meek and you make your way towards your seat to his right. The only other of the about twenty chairs that has a dinner set resting in front of this.
Benji pulls your chair out for you and you squish the thick layers of dress down beneath the table.
"You may be excused," Erik tells your knight.
Your eyebrows raise.
"Have we not discussed this earlier?"
Erik nods. "That is what the priest is here for. To protect your virtue."
Benji does not say anything at all, not an ounce of protest and you can already hear his footsteps retreating.
"What of intruders? Kidnappers? Enemies to the crown? My safety is just as important as my chastity," you plead, exasperated, desperate to not be left alone with these strange men.
But you are waved off as you so often are.
The door opens and closes and you have to watch the closest thing to a friend you have here leave.
The sting of betrayal surprises you.
Lord Cathcart is delighted. "We have guards at all doors princess, you need not worry. I will protect you."
He couldn't protect you from a small dog, you are certain, but what use is protest? Somehow you will have to find a way to tolerate him.
Your wine is poured and you take a gulp and are hit with an instant wave of regret. "What is this?"
"Our local wine, princess. Do you like it?"
You consider lying for a moment. "Do you perhaps have anything sweeter? Cider?"
He claps and one of the frozen servants scurries quickly. Your chalice is replaced with a new one and the cider is only a tiny bit better. By god, you had not been aware just how spoiled you are.
The priest lingers by the fireplace. An ugly man, undeniably. Small bird-like eyes and wormy, moist lips. He's watching you with the eyes of a predator.
"Now, Princess," your betrothed says. "I am quite sorry for these circumstances,."
Your food is plated. "Whatever do you mean?"
"I am well aware that you must have expected a better match. Maybe even a love match."
The meat is cold in the middle. "I tried to not delude myself into thinking I would marry for love's sake."
He gives something of a look of consideration. “Still. Had we at least had the chance to know one another before being thrust into the other’s arms.”
He is not being thrust into anybody’s arms, you think to yourself. A husband is not the wife’s prisoner, it is the other way around. You don’t disagree with him, just keep chewing your hopeless, bland food.
“I am aware of my sister’s wrongdoings, princess.”
His voice has lowered to a whisper now, as though he is afraid of the shame his sister might bring upon him. As though his housekeepers do not quiver before him.
“What wrongdoings? Meddling in politics which do not concern her? You must clarify, my lord,” you demand.
The priest stares at you, unwavering.
Erik is uncomfortable. “No. I cannot. I do not know what she did, but I assure you she must have done something for you to be here now.”
“Where are your parents? Are they not concerned with their daughter’s actions?”
“They have long left the kingdom, as you surely know, princess.” There is a piece of lettuce stuck between his teeth. “They have no care for their children.”
“Well, at least we seem to have one thing in common.” Your voice drips with resignation.
He beams at you like an excited dog. “Yes!”
A bit absurd to get quite so excited about such a sombre fact.
“Lord Cathcart,” you say. You have to say this now. “I do hope we can find a way to make our marriage tolerable. But I must warn you that I will try to fight it until I am dragged down the altar. Once we are wed, I shall be an honourable, dutiful wife.”
There is a film of something strange across his face, the sheen of light disgust or aversion.
“Princess, this is an agreed-upon arrangement.”
You shrug. You wish you weren’t so scared. You wish your knight were here with you. “I am still the king’s daughter. I outrank you.”
Your heart is trembling with the fierceness of your words. You can't remember another time where you had spoken so frank.
But you had tripped today. It is due time you adapt to the world.
The air feels sharp. "Princess, you are my betrothed. There is no way out."
His knuckle blanch from how hard he grips the table. "I am sorry for the ordeal. But I will be your Lord Husband, you are not free to run your mouth like this."
It flashes across your mind how Benji had respected you more after you had spoken your mind and how disgusted with you Erik seems.
"I will not disrespect you in any regard. But if you are yourself sorry, why would you still agree?"
You know the answer. Wealth. The glory of marrying an Apricate girl. Proximity to the rulers.
He doesn't speak these things. "I will work hard against your unhappiness. But to remove myself from this betrothal would be undignified."
Have you gone too far? Had you been too crass? You do not know these unfamiliar waters, you do not know how much is too much, you have always given too little.
"I am sorry, my Lord. I do not mean to offend. I am simply-"
"Tired," he cuts you off. He rests his hand against yours. You wish you could remove it.. "How could I make you rest easier?"
Your gaze catches that off one of the paintings behind him. "Why do you lay hands on your people?"
He squeezes your hand and it feels like a threat but he catches himself. "For discipline."
"That is a foolish reason. Not even the king hurts his servants."
His beauty is so painfully tainted by the face he is making. "But this is the most efficient way. How else would they learn?"
The priest is still watching. Would a true man of god let this happen under his watch?
"Is it not god that taught us to treat each other with kindness?"
It feels as though you are speaking to a child and he truly doesn't understand what you are trying to imply.
But he gives in.
"If this is what you wish for then fine. I shall follow your command," he says.
You nod and take another sip. If you drink fast enough you might be able to interpret this as a win.
And perhaps while you are at it, you might unburden yourself by the plague that your knight is.
Comparison is the thief of joy and the way you cannot help but see how much of a better man Benji is, in comparison to the wimpy Lord Cathcart.
You never should have let him comfort you. It is like a gate in your mind has been opened and cannot be closed. A flood of thoughts, all repeating the same face over and over again.
"Princess, I must inform you of something and I am doubtful that it will make you happy."
Your stomach twists. "What is it?" Another big sip.
"Well, once we are wed—" He pauses. Which we will be, is what he is trying to suppress but the warning look in his eyes says it for him anyways. "You will be assigned a new sworn protector."
You pray to god that he doesn't see the frown you immediately pull into your chalice. "Pardon?"
"You will be assigned a new protector. My family is close with House Bracken and has been for many years. I cannot have that unhinged young lad running around my castle."
Unhinged is a strong choice of word, coming from him. "He swore an oath. How would I dispose of him?"
"In the same way your last knight was disposed of. It is not a dishonourable thing, but merely a precaution. I do not wish to run into trouble."
"My knight was picked in very specific conditions. He is part of the peace treaty in the Riverlands. If he returns, trouble will surely be worse."
It is quite funny how suddenly the tides have changed. Just about one moon, or two ago you were beyond upset with Ser Benjicot Blackwood, and had prayed for a way to rid yourself of him. And now, you were fairly certain that if he left, you would be the most lonely person in the world.
He isn't even your friend. You are not even sure he doesn't still partly despise you but with Marion gone and your siblings gone and your work (if one can call it that) taken from you, you had to call him a friend. Otherwise you might fall into a pit of deep despair.
Lord Cathcart had perhaps not considered the treaty. Or he hadn't considered that you might be aware of it. Either way he doesn't speak for a very long time and decides to aggressively cut his lamb up.
"You must know, it is a liability to have Bloody Ben running around my home. I can't imagine why your father would ever have him assigned to you in the first place, but I surely do not want this."
You disregard your food entirely. "Well, if you wish for it, I do not hold any power over who is sworn to me. But you hold no power either. If we were wed perhaps it might change, but even still. The Blackwood boy was chosen by the king and plays an essential role in keeping peace in this glorious kingdom. The choice is with him and his counsel."
And as you speak you wonder if they might execute him. Where else would they put him? Surely Lady Cathcart would find a way to have your father listen to her brother's request. And then what? He isn't allowed to return to the Riverlands, but how could they ensure that he wouldn't?
You must write to Tristan. Or perhaps Cordelia could offer him refuge in Arbormere. Without her husband''s knowledge.
It is becoming more noticeable by the second that this dress is not yours by the way parts of it dig into tender flesh.
Erik clears his throat.
And gets up.
You stare at him perplexed.
"Your highness, my princess, the realm's delight. I do not wish to sadden you." He grips your hand again, both of them this time. "But I cannot have you talking in this unwomanly manner. Politics do not concern you. Discipline does not concern you. How I handle things is not your concern. Speak disrespectfully again and I assure you, I can be much unfriendlier."
You swallow thickly before you rip your hands out of his. "I am still the princess. Do not dare threaten me ever again."
Tears of anger betray your coldness and you get up with enough force to send the table wobbling, wine stains the cloth spread.
"I bid you goodnight."
You turn to face the priest. "And you father."
He doesn't speak, still just quietly watching with bird eyes and nods.
Apparently luck is on your side after all, and the Lord of the house does not attempt to follow you.
You storm out of the room and do not slow down when Benji calls after you. He must have waited by the door. Has he heard your conversation?
"Do you even know where you are going?"
You ignore him, hectically climbing the stairs with your stupid, stupid gown.
Ser Corrigan nearly runs into you when you hurry around the corner but you ignore him too.
Since you have no idea where you are going you decide to continue climbing the stairs. You can hear Benji tell Ser Corrigan that he has not a single clue what has gotten into you.
You aren't even crying. You wish you were, you figure that would suit you more than an erratic outburst of anger. Maybe you are your father's daughter after all.
Finally Benji catches up to you and you are once more reminded of how restricted you are even by something as minute as the clothes you wear.
Forever the most privileged prisoner in the world.
"What on earth happened?" He asks, matching your speed as you keep going up and up and up.
"I cannot marry that man," you huff. This is surprisingly exhausting; your face feels like it's aglow from the heat.
"Did he do something?"
Did he? Not really. Can you even blame Erik for anything? He is doing what he has been taught his whole life, how he has seen women be treated by their husband's for forever. This is a tradition older than you or your mother or her mother before her. Generations of women who could do nothing but obey. Rage runs hot in your veins.,
"No," you say. "He did what was expected, I just figured I would—" Be successful in your rebellion. That if you had never spoken ill or not done what was expected that would mean it would be more effective once you do. But it wasn't. Not at all.
You can only place your hope with God now, and you have not done that in a very long time.
You reach the top of the stairs, the bell tower. Closer to the sky but not remotely a free bird.
With an exasperated sigh you lean against the wall, tilt your head to peek at the sun setting on the horizon, a fiery orange hue. The ridiculous feather tiara slips to the ground.
The dining room must be looking marvellous about now, it being faced west-way and all.
Benji also looks marvellous. Not nearly as out of breath as you, dressed in black leathers, his raven pin twinkling as his chest rises and falls.
"He wants to get rid of you," you tell him.
He nods. "That makes sense."
"How does that make any sense? You are here based on a contract, a deal, an entire peace treaty. He cannot just rid you of me."
He smiles halfheartedly. "Rid you of me? I thought it would be the other way around. That you'd be glad to be rid of me."
There is not an ounce of energy left in you to take such jests.
Benji is across from you. You are so high up, the tip of the tower. He feels too tall for the space. "I knew he was friends with the Bracken pack. I figured I'd run into some issues with that."
A strange sensation grows in your overwhelmed heart. "Why would you not tell me this?"
"You're so well-versed in gossip I thought you knew this."
You had known. But you had not realised that the bond between Bracken and Cathcart was strong enough to warrant such behaviour.
"He is like my father," you whisper. "But worse in some ways."
You consider it for a moment. "Better in others."
"So why are we up here? Are you planning to jump?"
You roll your eyes at him. "Idiot."
He nudges his boot against the bottom frills of your dress., and they leave a small splotch of brown. Somehow he is never fully clean. There are always specks of mud trailing him. You don't know how he manages it.
"Am I too not know love, ever?"
He nudges you again. "You are loved by so many. I'm quite certain that you are one of the most loved people in the world."
"It isn't tangible love. The smallfolk think they like me but they don't know me and soon they will have forgotten me in favour of my father's shortcomings. My siblings love me. Marion perhaps. Ser Rodrick once, but he hasn't written me any letters."
Benji sighs. "That is still more than what some people have in a lifetime."
There isn't a way to deny him because he is right. He has backed you into a corner with his words, but still he must be aware how none of that could make up for the marriage that was luring in your future. You do not even want to think of the consummation of it.
Silence remains as it so frequently does between the two of you.
He stretches his hand out toward you and you take it, not questioning why, as he pulls you forward, until your skirt wraps around both your legs.
With gentle hands he does the same, wraps around you until you are engulfed in his arms, his scent, his warmth.
Your head grows dizzy, as it rests against his shoulder.
"I am not familiar with the ways of the court," he whispers, his breath hot on the crown of your head. "But many noble women find a way to be with their husbands in a way that isn't too straining. Your sister seems content, doesn't she?"
"She wasn't always and she still is not. Her husband will not relent until he has an heir to take the throne. They get along fine but the bearing of children is laborious for her. My mother died when she had me."
His hand draws a circle on your back and you hope he never stops doing it.
"You're a witch. That won't happen to you."
You laugh but it is laced with venomous sarcasm. "I'm a terrible witch. I couldn't even say goodbye to my cauldron. Or my sick people."
He pulls away, yet just far enough for your noses to touch. "That was not your fault. And besides, you did try to leave the castle. You just weren't quite...tactical about it."
Your laugh dies in your throat when your eyes meet his. You're certain that nobody has ever quite looked at you like this. Least of all Benji.
That legendary young man, with a supposed undying thirst for blood. And while you had seen him angered, the way he is looking at you now makes it hard to imagine that he had ever been anything but tender.
The moment stretches out, up into the sky and across the two of you like the dome you are standing beneath.
In hindsight you won't be sure how it happens but something pulls the two of you together and your lips meet.
Your breath hitches, heart hammering the way Fury's hooves do when she gallops across a field and it is better than the rush of any wine you've ever had.
Your head is screaming at you to put a stop to it, but you cannot bring yourself to, when every fibre in your being is yearning for more, your hands in his hair. It is foreign and odd but in a fantastical way.
And in the end, it is him who pulls away.
"Oh," you breathe, chest rising unsteadily.
The grin on his face is prideful. "Mhm. Oh."
A twig snaps in the court, but it does not matter. His lips are on yours again.
#benjicot blackwood#hotd#benjicot blackwood x reader#davos blackwood#benjicot x reader#house of the dragon
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Nobody's Soldier - a Bucky Barnes story.
So here we are, finally the first part of this story. The prompt was simple paired in a therapy program and the first that came to my mind was Bucky (since the hyperfixation came back) and yes the title is an Hozier song.
Hope you like it <3 (thanks to the awesome beta @green-binder as well )
This fic is also on Ao3 and Wattpad
Nobody's Soldier playlist
CW: talking about trauma, PTSD, nightmares, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning himself), trauma, trauma bonding, unexpected feelings, slight obsession, anxiety, denial, manipulation, reader has female pronous.
(Not much major warnings in this, next one will be a bit heavier)
____________
Ch. 1 - Paralyzed
"A what now?" Bucky asked his therapist with furrowed brows, visibly in confusion.
"It's a therapy companion program. I think it would be good for you.." Doctor Raynor said bluntly, leaning back in her chair but looking at him with a stern expression. ”…You need to talk to people."
Bucky glares quietly at her then, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He didn't need this.
"Who… the hell anyway...?" he started but suddenly stopped when he heard another voice coming from the doorway.
"Hello Doctor..." you said, standing in the doorway with a bright smile on your face, arriving early as you always did.
You did this before, this program, you were involved from the very beginning and you had already been paired with four people already. Three of them were living their best lives, with little to no problems, but one was still in the program yet away from you, as he had accidentally developed feelings. Safe to say, that time didn't end well.
You hoped this one would be, at least, nice.
As soon as the doctor invited you in, you moved closer, greeting them politely again as soon as you sat down, but he didn't take your hand in return.
You shrugged a little at that, you knew that people could come off as rude with new people around, especially in places like these, and there was nothing wrong with that.
Right after you greeted him, to no answer, Bucky glanced at you the moment you looked away as you listened to whatever the doctor was saying, looking you up and down once, while having mixed feelings about the whole ordeal.
It wasn’t as if he disliked you immediately, he didn't even know you. But the thought of being paired with someone he'd never met made his blood boil with annoyance before even starting.
The sole idea of talking to a stranger, of opening up to them… He was uncomfortable enough with his therapist, how bad would it be with you?
On the other hand, you completely missed the look of annoyance he had on his face, looking at you uncertainly while you listened to the doctor.
You had and still have your fair share of traumas, but as some kind of coping mechanism, you hid it fairly well, something your own doctor was still trying to fix. As a result, you were exceptionally good with others, listening to them and even helping them to start believing in themselves. All the things you didn’t have, not from the people you wanted to.
Then Bucky let out a silent sigh, turning to look out the window completely uninterested in the whole situation as he focused on the cars driving past the building instead.
He didn't have to talk about anything he didn't want to, he thought, scoffing slightly in his mind.
Although, with the therapist watching, he knew he'd have to be civil. He glances back at you before looking back out the window.
"You don't need to be here," he says bluntly then, keeping his eyes focused outside.
"Excuse me?" both you and the doctor turned to him, and you frowned while the therapist explained to him for the nth time why he needed to do this.
You weren't hurt by his words, per se, it was the reaction everyone had, especially with a program like this one, so you were used to it. You shrugged and looked away while he argued with his doctor.
It’s true, you didn’t need to be there, you were well aware of that. Your gaze focused on your lap, and you started fidgeting nervously with your sleeve, pulling at an invisible thread on your sweater.
"I don't need a damn babysitter…" he scoffed, leaning back in his seat before his eyes darted over to you, looking you up and down as his eyes narrowed in silent disapproval.
“James, don’t start… I already explained why…” Doctor Raynor repeated, visibly annoyed as the frown on her face deepened.
At that he sighed in annoyance, the idea of this program pissed him off. Being seen as weak and in need of someone to watch over him was enough to drive him up the wall.
He didn't need anyone to take care of him. He was a former trained assassin for God's sake.
At that, you looked back with the most unreadable expression on your face and just gently smiled. Then with one last look at the doctor, you spoke up again.
"I'm well aware and I don't pretend to know anything you're going through..." you said, your tone calm yet firm, standing up right after.
"Look… Bucky? Bucky, right…?" you quickly asked before continuing…”.. we've all been there more or less so I'm not forcing you to do anything, really.”
But before leaving, you pulled something from your pocket, giving it to him.
"This is my number if you ever need anything or someone to stay silent with…up to you," you added, in a much more gentle tone.
After that you walked away but not before saying goodbye to the doctor with a smile back on your face.
Bucky didn't like the way you smiled at him. It was like you saw something he couldn’t and he didn't like not knowing things.
His brows furrowed as he watched you get up. He sat there in slight shock as you spoke.
Why were you being this damn civil with him? Didn't you want to know more? Demand answers? Knowing who he really was? All that and more pissed him off and yet intrigued him at the same time, a million thoughts starting to run around his head.
His frown deepened as you suddenly handed him a small piece of paper. He stared at it a moment before looking up and seeing you walk away. He had no intention of using that damn thing.
One week later, to the day, your phone rang.
After the little misunderstanding both of you had in the therapist's office, your life kept on going like it always did, waking up, going to work, eating… when you remembered to… having a breakdown or two, and trying to manage your anxiety. Normal stuff, just everyday things.
Not that you expected anyone to actually call you but, as you always did, when your phone rang even in the middle of the night, you answered.
This time when you picked up, it was only one sentence.
"I had a nightmare..."
Bucky's voice was quiet over the phone. He was sitting on the floor, covered only by a thin blanket, breathing heavily as he tried to compose himself.
Every nightmare always felt so real, so damn vivid. He could still taste the blood in his mouth. Still feel the ghosts of hands, tearing him apart.
How long had it been since a nightmare hadn't woken him up screaming? He should be used to this by now.
"What do you need me to do?" was the only thing you said to him after that, voice gentle and quiet, partly from sleep.
And then you waited in silence. For him to just calm down over the phone or start talking, whatever he needed from you or didn't, you would help him, no matter how bad your first impression was.
Bucky stayed silent for a moment longer as he tried to catch his breath, his eyes closed tight as he focused on the sound of your voice.
Calm down. Just. Calm. Down. He kept repeating this in his mind. He didn't want to feel like this. He hated feeling like this. Anxious, terrified. Weak.
"Just..." his voice was quiet, wavering slightly. "Don't hang up.”
"I won't..." you promptly replied, your voice still soft as you sat up on the bed, hearing him trying to control his breath.
It wasn't the first time this happened with a therapy companion, it was honestly quite common, you had been there before.
So you stayed, silence falling over you both as he calmed down, occasionally with your reassurance that everything was alright, spoken gently.
After that night, you didn’t hear from him until a month later, except for a few texts he sent went he felt like he was slipping out again, but no nightmares, or at least that's what he told you.
The more you talked, the more you felt like he was starting to open up.
The next time he did call you again, he was a complete mess.
Bucky was breathing heavily once again, sweating profusely, his eyes wide and unfocused as he stared at nothing. He knew where he was. He knew the past was just in his head. But God did it feel so real.
"I-I can't... I can't breathe." He muttered, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes as his shoulders began to shake.
"Bucky..." you started quietly as you sat on your couch, listening as he almost choked on his own breath.
But he wasn't listening, his breath was heavy, as if he was about to pass out. You knew too well what it was and how disruptive it could be. Still, it was all in his head.
"James..." you tried again, more assertive but still calm "..what can I do for you?"
Sometimes saying out their full name during a panic attack would shock them out of it, sometimes not. But you had to try, hoping this time it would work.
Bucky froze for a moment as if hearing his name was enough of a shock to freeze him in his tracks. He was breathing fast, almost panting, he was struggling to speak, to process his thoughts. It was minutes until his eyes finally refocused, looking around frantically as he realised where he was.
He was in his apartment. In his bed. Safe.
The realization was enough to make his breath hitch, a choked sob escaping his lips. It took him a couple of moments to respond, his voice sounding shaky and pained.
"I-I-" He tried, but he couldn't bring himself to say it.
"It's fine..." you whispered, heart still clenching at hearing his soft sobs and how he was still struggling to speak.
You weren't a therapist, you couldn't be that distant with the people you were paired with, so the pang in your stomach was real.
Was it empathy? Or did you just know what it feels like? Either way, you gave all of yourself to help when needed.
"I can be on the phone all night if that’s what you need..." you added, a tinge of a smile on your lips.
You wanted him to know you were there for him.
Bucky closed his eyes tightly as he tried to stop the tears from falling.
He felt humiliated. Weak. For calling you when he should have been able to handle this on his own. It was just a nightmare.
He was a grown man, he fought in a war, he wasn’t some pathetic child who couldn't handle a nightmare.
But your voice was so damn calm and gentle. Telling him everything would be ok. That you'd stay. It calmed him slightly, but the shame was still there.
"You… don't have to… stay up for me." He muttered quietly, voice choking up still.
"You're not alone in this..." you replied, reassuring him once more.
These same words were the same your therapist told you the first session you had and they stuck in your head since then, helping and easing the process.
"No one should be alone in this, Bucky..." you added, your tone gentle and light as you stood up and headed to the kitchen.
"It hurts, I can tell you this much, it's not going to be easy… but it will get better" you went on, while you prepared yourself for bed.
You didn't know how long you'll be on the phone so you prepared yourself for a long night.
Bucky listened quietly, to the sound of you moving around on the other end, to your words.
He didn't understand how you stayed so calm. How even after his rude comment that first time, you still spoke to him so kindly.
"How… how do you not get angry...?" He asks suddenly, his voice hoarse. "How do you stay so damn calm?”
You laughed quietly at his question, as you pulled a book from your stash on the bedside table.
"Who said I don't?" you replied still amused by his assumption.”…I do get angry, very much so..." you added.
"With time and age, I just learned to let go of many things, it still hurts sometimes, but there's nothing I can do.”
Bucky was a little surprised when you let out a small laugh. It wasn't what he expected from you. He was actually expecting some kind of lecture, something about meditation or some other crap like that. He was so used to the lectures from his therapist and doctors.
But you were honest. You got angry. You let go of things.
Then he was silent for a moment, your blunt honesty taking him off guard.
"Doesn't it get tiring? Being so… calm all the time?” He asked, genuinely curious as he felt himself breathing regularly now, his body slightly relaxing.
At that you sighed. Still, the smile never left your lips.
"Very much so… but..." you replied after a moment, trying to find the best way to explain this.
"It gets more tiring to be mad all the time..." you said honestly as you now lay on the bed, on one side.
"I still cry, I get panic attacks… and I zone out a lot…" you stated, recalling all the times you still found yourself alone with your breath caught in your throat, legs pulled against your chest.
"Like I said, it gets better, not perfect…”
Bucky was a little startled by your honesty. How bluntly you spoke about your own struggles just to help him out. He knew very well how difficult it was. How frustrating it was to struggle with his past. How much it hurt.
But hearing you talk so casually about your panic attacks and crying was… odd, in a way.
He was used to hiding his struggles and pretending everything was fine, he thought it was normal.
Then he let out a huffed sigh.
"How long does it take, usually?” he asked, deep down already knowing the answer.
"For things to get better?" you asked honestly, a little surprised by that kind of question from him. Of course, it was a rhetorical question, getting better didn’t have a set date, everyone and everything was different when it came to mental health.
"A long time." you then replied, not wanting to sugarcoat anything for him right now.
That's what you did usually, tell them how it was and how you got there. People in the same situation as yourself were mostly tired of unnecessary bits of advice that led to nothing.
"A lot of time and therapy sessions..." you added almost laughing like it was something funny. "... your brain won't be the same though, the trauma is stuck in your head”
Bucky huffed quietly, laying back against his pillows while he listened to you.
He expected some type of halfhearted reassurance. Some shallow statement about how he'll heal and move past everything.
But you didn't do that. You kept your statements blunt and straight to the point. You spoke about your own experiences easily.
You weren't like his therapist. And this was far off a therapy session.
"So… my brain will never go back to normal…" He mutters quietly, not like a question but like a realization.
You lightly chuckled on the other end.
You expected this kind of reaction, usually that's what happened. You did it too the first time you were told about this. But you eventually accepted it, on most days.
"Your brain is normal, Bucky..." you spoke again, softly this time." ...you still think, talk, laugh and cry… that's normal."
That's what you think about yourself too, when your intrusive thoughts weren’t winning the battle. You were still functional, but living in a world that hadn't been kind to you at all.
"Just with a little spice…” you added playfully.
Bucky listened quietly, his eyes closed as he tried to keep his breathing even still.
He still didn't understand how you could speak so nonchalantly.
Just a little spice? He repeated your last sentence in his head, trying to convince himself.
He thought about it for a moment longer. His mind was still messed up but he was still capable of all those things. It was a simple concept but it eased his mind a little, at least for now.
"Are you just gonna keep talking until I fall asleep?" He huffed then, trying to keep his voice distant now that he had recovered.
"If you want me to..." you only replied, maybe a little more sweetly than you intended to.
But you felt responsible somehow, few times had you seen someone so broken yet so stubborn with himself and others that you genuinely wanted to help.
"I could read to you, It doesn't bother me at all..." you suggested, fully expecting him to scoff at that as he was still trying to push you away.
Bucky stayed quiet for a moment. He didn't want to admit but the sound of your voice was soothing somehow.
Normally, he would try to keep himself awake. Stare up at the ceiling until he was so tired, he passed out from exhaustion.
But now, laying in his bed listening to the sound of your voice, he found that he was tired. Not in a tired-from-exhaustion kind of way, but tired in an I-could-fall-asleep kind of way.
"Fine.” he only answered.
"Alright..." you only said, almost smiling at his reaction.
You could see all the signs, the reluctance, the way he avoided showing himself truly or how he still bit back. He didn't trust you and it was fine, you were still a stranger.
You ended up reading him a novel, one that told about a knight in shining armour, until he fell asleep.
The next morning you found yourself with your phone next to you, your reading glasses still on and the call ended a long time ago.
Bucky woke up in the morning slightly confused.
Looking around his darkened room, it took him a good minute or two to finally remember last night. He must have passed out during your call as he found his phone still in his hand, a glance at the time telling him it was nearly noon.
Maybe you hung up as soon as you realised he had fallen asleep.
He wondered if the previous night had all been some kind of very weird fever dream. But his phone still showed the call log. It had actually happened.
After waking up rather late you decided to work from home, luckily for you, it was possible with what you did, being between jobs had some benefits after all.
You felt very sleepy still since you spent most of the night reading until you heard the call ending itself, so your day was slow and rather calm.
While, for once, thinking about yourself, your mind kept replaying what happened last night. How you heard Bucky cry, how his words stuttered and, after he calmed down, the questions that followed.
Then the reticence.
Later that day, right in the afternoon, you shoot him a message anyway.
-to Bucky: you ok?
You didn't expect a reply, you were well aware of how he still tried to be distant.
And like he said the first time, you weren't his babysitter and he was a full-grown man, so it was up to him if he still wanted help.
On the other end, Bucky nearly dropped his phone when the screen lit up with your message.
He was still very much surprised that you were checking up on him.
Why?
He stared at the message for a good few minutes, debating on what he should say or not.
No, he wasn't ok. He was still shaken up from the nightmare he had. He was still frustrated with himself for not handling it alone.
But he wouldn't exactly tell you any of that so he tried to come up with a reply, but it took him about an hour.
-From Bucky: I'm fine.
When the actual reply arrived, you couldn't hold back a laugh.
He was still so stubborn even after you heard him almost crying that his coldness now felt...different.
-to Bucky: I don't believe that, but alright :)
You went up with your usual day after that, busy with some more work while planning your next therapy session that was coming soon.
Bucky huffed quietly after receiving your reply, his eye twitching slightly. He was surprised that you didn't believe him that he was fine.
But then again, you had heard what happened last night. You had heard him struggling to breathe. You had heard him nearly cry over the phone.
How stupid he was to think he could convince you he was fine.
He tried to put the phone down, but he found himself picking it up again and staring at the screen.
You just... Didn’t give up, did you? he thought, asking himself something he couldn’t reply to.
How expected, Bucky didn't reply further and that was fine with you. But deep down, to be completely honest, you started to kind of worry about him, to kind of care...
After a week, when you hadn't heard from him and had yet another session that felt hard, everything came crashing down.
At first, you were your usual happy self, telling your doctor about this therapy companion thing and what happened, minus the details.
But once you got home, you felt it, sneaky as it always was, another panic attack that slowly started to build up.
You spent months without one this strong but with the news in your life and the progress you made with therapy, it was strange that it didn't show up sooner.
Now flashbacks of past memories and people playing in front of you, still sitting on the bathroom floor with your legs tight against your chest and your phone next to you… on silent.
When Bucky called this time, you didn’t answer.
Bucky had been ignoring the constant feeling of guilt deep in his stomach. You had helped him, saved him from that nightmare and the panic attack that followed, and his way of repaying you for that kindness was acting cold and distant?
He couldn’t tell if you were worried about him or just nice but you were still trying to help him somehow.
But he was too stubborn to admit he needed someone right now, to admit he needed you.
So it was only right that he couldn't reach you when he finally picked up that damn phone.
Sitting in his living room, now staring down at his phone, Bucky tried to call you again and again, but like the other calls he already made, he was sent to voicemail. Not even an answer in text.
Dread started to fill him, his mind immediately going to the worst-case scenario.
Did something happen? Why aren't you picking up? Did you put your phone on silent? Why?
You pulled through yet again, not without your fair share of tears and so much pain, but you did. Still, your body felt numb and sore, sitting in the same position for hours, your mouth dry and your eyes burning.
You were a complete mess, but your breathing was now finally steady.
Still, you haven't checked your phone and honestly, it was one of your last thoughts as of now.
You didn't know the time either, as your brain was still scattered and clouded even after the shower you took just to feel something.
So when you finally picked it up, your eyes went wide and you almost cried again.
4 missed calls from Bucky
1 text from Bucky
Guilt and fear started silently spreading inside you all over again. You couldn't do this now, it felt like betrayal but you couldn't.
Bucky sat in his living room, his body stiff and filled with fear.
He had called you about 4 times now. Each time, he was met with a voice-mail.
What the hell was going on?
He was tempted to do something, maybe find out where you lived and go check on you. But he forced himself to calm down, trying to convince himself to not overreact.
You probably had your phone on silent. You probably didn't hear it. You probably were fine.
When you were about to lay in bed and have some sleep, you received another call and for a moment you were tempted to answer, but you didn’t. Instead, you placed your phone on the bedside table and got under the covers.
But when you were about to drift off, your eyes about to close you picked up your phone again and decided to, at least, read the message.
-from Bucky: what happened?
If you weren't so tired you would have laughed about it, about the worry that seeped from a single message, but even your face felt heavy.
So you just typed a quick answer.
-to Bucky: wasn't feeling myself, I'm sorry...we can chat tomorrow.
And with that, you fell asleep, exhausted and aching with your phone still in your hand.
Bucky read your message over and over again while he lay in his bed. He was still worried but the knot in his stomach started to lessen slightly. He felt like a fool for being so dramatic.
Of course, you were just having an off day. Off days happened, especially for people like the two of you. He was just overreacting.
He decided to send you one last text, unable to help himself.
-From Bucky: call me if you need me.
With that, he sat his phone on his bedside table and closed his eyes.
The answer to Bucky's text only arrived at the end of the next day since sleeping past your alarm had made you arrive late for a work appointment.
In other words, your day was a bit hectic.
Then you helped your neighbour on your way back home.
And when finally you were sitting on the couch, in your comfortable clothes, the tv didn't turn on. So you had to call the landlord then.
You were tired, frustrated even and not really in your best behaviour. Still, you owed Bucky an answer.
-to Bucky: did you sleep last night? Saw you were a bit worried. Anyway not my best day but I'm better. Ps: do you happen to know how to fix a tv?
Bucky read over your message, his lips twitching into an involuntary small smile.
Not your best day.
He could tell from the way you wrote the message that you were a little bit frustrated with how your day had gone but still tried to stay positive. It was… cute.
He quickly typed out a response, ignoring the strange feeling inside his chest as he sent it.
-From Bucky: I slept alright. And how do you manage to screw up a damn tv?
-to Bucky: how dare you! I was out all day and it was already like this, called the landlord but he said there's nothing he could do :(
You typed out almost too quickly, but then you were distracted, only to finish your text minutes later.
-to Bucky: sorry my neighbour needed something… anyways I’m happy to hear you slept some, at least.
You were so focused on the broken tv, and your neighbour moving out that you didn’t tell him about the episode that happened last night. That made you feel rather guilty, you were paired for that specific reason and while you were all about helping him, you just refused to let others help you when the same thing happened.
Bucky was beginning to pick up on your behaviour, about you only talking about your struggles when you wanted to be helpful but not when you needed it. You had talked him through a panic attack but never said anything about why you were still in therapy.
At that, a feeling of determination welled up inside of him as he read over your message.
He was going to find out what was going on with you, one way or another. Shocking even himself with that very thought. e quickly typed out a reply.
-From Bucky: Your landlord sounds like a douche. Maybe I could take a look at it for you.
His next message made you stop in your tracks as you crossed the room and went to the kitchen.
The other times you were paired up, it was always by calls and texts as the other were too scared to even go out, so this was kind of unexpected. With the way he had acted when you both first met and how he still tried to, this was kind of a shock.
But then, when you didn’t answer right away, another text arrived, pulling a slight smile out of you, now that he was acting worried.
-from Bucky: so?
-to Bucky: won't hurt, can send u my address, warn me when you do though.
Bucky tried to keep his heart from beating so damn fast. It was a dumb offer, a stupid thought he had, but you had accepted nonetheless. So he wasn’t sure why he felt… nervous?
He told himself it was because he was worried about you, worried that you might have been struggling like he was. But a small part of him couldn't help but wonder if maybe it was because he…
No!... not going there.
He stopped himself from thinking more about it, quickly replying to you.
-From Bucky: Yeah, send me the address. I’ll be there in thirty.
I'll be there in thirty. Well that was quick, you told yourself as you read his last message, totally not expecting this sudden change of heart as a strange feeling of happiness started brewing inside you but, at the same time, you were scared.
Not because Bucky was a bad person, you were sure he had too much good in him, but for the fact that someone would actually want to come over.
This was new.
And while you were overthinking this, trying to tidy up your messy apartment as best as you could, minutes passed and suddenly someone had knocked at your door.
Bucky stood in front of your apartment, his hand raised to knock. He was starting to feel a bit dumb.
It was a stupid idea. Why did he offer to come over? Stupid, stupid, stupid!
But his mind was filled with worry, his heart racing as he continued to stand in front of your door like some kind of idiot.
He finally forced himself to knock, even if the knocking came off a bit too loudly because of his nervousness.
As soon as you opened the door your breath hitched a little. He was standing there, wearing just a pair of black jeans, a leather jacket with a dark blue jersey underneath, and…gloves?
When did he get so tall and… no, not the right time, as you took in the unreadable expression he had on his face.
But then you quickly reminded yourself that the only time you both saw each other was in his doctor's office.
"Hi stranger..." you said, after a few seconds of internal battle within your brain.."...were you worried about me perhaps?" you joked, awkwardly and only to hide your embarrassment.
But as he looked down at you, you realized you were still in his way and stepped aside enough to let him pass.
The first impression he had of you was bad, and the second? Well, maybe now he considered you an idiot.
Bucky stood stiffly in front of you, almost towering over you as he looked down to meet your gaze.
Damn, you were tiny. He hadn’t noticed that before, just now realizing just how much smaller you were than him.
As he stepped in, he tried to keep the cold look on his face, but it was hard to keep his eyes from roaming over you, taking in your messy sweatpants and oversized shirt. Cute, he caught himself thinking.
"Maybe a little bit..." he muttered grudgingly, walking inside your apartment.
“Oh…” you said quietly as he walked in, surprised by his answer.
Then you saw him looking around as if he was searching for something, making you even more confused.
Then it hit you… his doctor told you he was a former military.
"It's just… just an old tv..." you tried, not really knowing why you stuttered at first as you followed him into your living room.
Bucky kept his hands shoved into his pockets as he walked around your living room, eyes roaming over every corner in search of any potential threats. An old habit of his from his time on the front lines.
When he spotted the television, his eyes narrowed slightly, only shedding off his jacket and remaining with just a long-sleeved shirt on.
A damn old tv, maybe older than him.
"How old is it?" he asked while he kneeled down in front of it, his fingers already picking at the back of the machine.
It took a little to answer his question, still stunned by the fact that he was really in your apartment.
The same guy that couldn't stand you the first time he saw you.
"Very… I mean..." you replied, then quickly correcting yourself."...I don't know really, bought it used."
You confessed, cheeks slightly flushing as if you were ashamed by that. You didn't have much on your own and therapy was damn expensive, after all.
As he worked, you tried not to bother him much, staying away as much as possible and sitting quietly on the couch.
Bucky hummed quietly while you spoke, his mind racing with questions.
How old could this tv be? And just how much did it cost you?
But he held his tongue, not wanting to risk upsetting you with his questions.
As he continued to inspect the old device, still he noticed how he could practically sense you trying to distance yourself from him and not bothering him much.
So he held back the urge to look at you, trying to focus on the old machine instead.
Why were you being too damn polite? Why were you so damn far away?
As you tried to focus, still not very much into yourself after a whole day of unexpected setbacks, the bell rang making you jump a little, startling Bucky as well.
But before he could say anything, you went to check, only to realize it was just your neighbour again as soon as you opened the door.
And while you talked, you didn’t notice that her voice was so loud that it could be heard even inside your apartment, as you both were at the door and away from the living room, so much that made Bucky curious about what was happening.
Bucky paused in his work on the tv as he heard the bell ring, his head turning to look towards you as you walked out of the room.
He kept working, the sound of your voices filtering faintly into the living room.
He wasn't trying to listen in your conversation but the more you and your neighbour talked, the more Bucky found himself subconsciously trying to make out what was being said.
He started to feel like a creep, listening to your private conversation like this. But he couldn't help it, the curiosity was eating away at him and...
The more he listened, the more he realised that something was off.
He slowly rose up from his kneeled position and turned to face the entrance as the voices got slightly louder.
When you finally closed the door with a loud sigh and turned to come back to the other room, you almost jumped as you found him there, standing near the entrance, with a deep frown on his face.
"Jesus..." you gasped, a hand on your chest.”...scared the hell out of me."
"You good? ...did something happen?" you then added as he kept looking between you and the front door.
Bucky kept his face stoic, his mind racing as his eyes roamed over you.
He was about to ask you about the neighbour, about your conversation. It was none of his business but… he just couldn’t stop himself.
"What the hell was that about?" he asked, gesturing toward the door.
It was your turn to frown, as soon as the words left Bucky's mouth you got confused.
How the hell did he...? you thought, crossing both your arms over your chest.
You were tired, still bothered by the remnants of your previous episode and on the verge of a breakdown. You couldn't handle this now.
"Listen, I'm going to be as polite as I can right now..." you started, your tone calm but with a slight edge.
"That's none of your fucking business."
And as soon as you said that, not giving him time to reply or do anything, you stormed off and locked yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the floor as soon as you were in.
Bucky was stunned for a moment, completely taken aback by your reaction. He had been rude, pushing a personal question out of the blue.
He hadn't really meant it, he was just worried about you. But now he realized he had gone too far, overstepping a boundary.
God damn it, he was a moron.
He felt panic well up inside him as you stormed off into the bathroom and slammed the door behind you, the sound of the lock flicking in place echoing in the apartment.
Bucky stood frozen still, the silence from the other side of the door deafening.
Was he supposed to wait there? Should he knock? Leave? He didn't know what to do.
He ran his hand through his hair, feeling completely lost.
He couldn’t bring himself to leave you alone, not while you were clearly upset, so after a few moments standing there awkwardly, he gently knocked on the door.
You missed the first knock, too lost in your mind yet again, trying to calm your breathing the way your therapist told you many times.
Everything seemed to shatter into tiny pieces, even the smallest things now becoming bigger problems.
You just couldn't, while you kept repeating, more like murmuring to yourself...
I'm sorry...
can't do this anymore...
please shut up
Your brain felt like it was on fire, hurting you more than you could imagine.
Bucky's worry grew as he heard your voice quietly talking to yourself through the door.
He felt like an idiot for overstepping, causing you to feel like this. And now you were locked away from him, alone and struggling.
With a knot in his stomach, he once again knocked on the door. He hated asking but…
"Can I come in?..." he called quietly, placing his forehead against the door.
You were on the verge of crying, but for a moment your brain refocused and you heard knocking as well as Bucky's voice.
He was still here? Why?
Deep down you knew this time you couldn't do it alone, that you had to talk this out but it was like your body was trapped on the spot.
When Bucky started to beg, behind the still-closed door, you felt a heavy sense of guilt washing over you, standing up right after but barely balancing on your feet.
Then you unlocked the door before you hunched over the sink, hands gripping the surface while your breath felt ragged.
Bucky was almost surprised you opened up the door, his heart clenching at the sight of you. He had never expected to see you this vulnerable.
He really was an idiot for causing you this much anguish.
He slowly stepped into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind himself.
"Hey..." he started, not really knowing what to say.
He stepped closer behind you, not daring to touch you, his heart aching again as he saw you hunched over the sink.
When you heard the faint footsteps and Bucky's voice so gentle, you raised your head slightly, the first tears were already running down your face and you only wanted to scream, but you swallowed it.
Instead, it happened in a blur, you turned around and hugged him tight, burying your face into his shirt and leaving him stunned.
You were weak, felt worse than ever and clearly in need of help.
Bucky’s heart stopped as you suddenly turned around and hugged him.
He had barely been able to register what was happening, but now he froze when he felt you against him.
His arms hovered in the air at first, not knowing what to do, but the sound of muffled sobs coming from you snapped him back into reality as if suddenly his brain and body started moving again.
So he quickly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against him as he leaned down and gently rested his chin on the top of your head.
You didn't know how much time had passed, hell you didn’t know what time it was as it felt like everything stopped when panic started gnawing at you again.
Your head was still spinning as your fingers dug tighter into the fabric of Bucky's shirt.
And while your breath was uneven and it seemed like you couldn't hold back the tears, you felt guilt.
Guilt of putting him into this situation. Guilt of embarrassing him so much.
"Not… not your fault.." you tried, as soon as you felt his hands on your back."...I'm sorry, I was already a mess..." your voice was muffled and broken, your brain still struggling to form a coherent thought on its own.
Bucky felt his heart twist in his chest as he listened to your broken voice.
He kept his chin on your head, listening to you speak.
"What are you apologizing for?" he asked gently, rubbing his palm up and down your back in an attempt to soothe you.
"I’m at fault here, it's my fault you’re upset," he said quietly, silently scolding himself for being so damn nosy and rude.
"I was..." you croaked out then.."I had… an episode last night..." forcing your words out to explain yourself.
You were aware he probably sensed something was off when you didn’t return his calls and now you were facing the consequences of your actions.
He was your therapy companion, for God's sake you mentally scolded yourself seconds after, your brain still feeling heavy.
"I thought I was getting better..."
Bucky was slowly piecing everything together, the picture becoming clearer as you continued. He felt another wave of guilt crash over him, a cold feeling forming in his stomach.
That's why you didn’t pick up last night, that’s why you’ve been so distant.
And he had come over, intruding on your life like an idiot, making it all worse. He held you a little tighter, gently pulling you closer against his chest.
"You are getting better..." he mumbled against your hair.
You actually sob at his words and the way he was now holding you. It felt good, safe and everything you hadn't felt in ages. And that scared you shitless.
"Stealing my words here..." you said, even if your voice was broken, trying to joke as your brain started refocusing itself slowly.
You wouldn't admit it to him or anyone except your therapist, but funnily enough the proximity and the contact helped ground you and not let your intrusive thoughts win.
Even if your major trauma stemmed from touch itself.
And he was indeed helping you now.
Bucky let out a small huff; somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. Maybe stealing your words wasn't that bad, you sounded better after all.
He felt the tension that had been present in your body slowly drain away as he continued to hold you, his hand rubbing small circles on your back.
It shouldn’t feel this good to hold you, and even less feel this protective over you.
He ignored the thought for now, gently pulling you closer to his chest.
"Do you want to talk about it…?" he mumbled quietly.
A soft broken sigh left your lips right after his question, relief quickly washing over your body as Bucky kept on silently comforting you.
You're safe. It's ok, were the thoughts that now replaced the pain in your brain, keeping you sane.
At his question, you just nodded yes, still you didn’t move an inch from where you were, body still aching, too convinced that if you let go you'd fall to the floor.
Bucky felt some of the tension drain from his own shoulders as well as you settled against his chest, the sight of you relaxing against him making his heart feel warmer.
He continued to hold you against him for a few more moments, his hand still rubbing at your back in calming circles.
But then, he did something he shouldn’t have.
He gently placed a light kiss on the top of your head, an intimate gesture of comfort.
You felt good, calmer even but when you felt the press of lips on top of your head and his breath ghosting in your hair you froze.
This wasn't right, this shouldn’t be happening… this...
You thought, as your breath hitched slightly while you pulled away, still very much shocked as you looked up at him.
"What..? Did you..?”
Bucky’s heart jumped into his throat when you suddenly pulled away, immediately missing the warmth of your body against his. And when you looked up at him, a mixture of shock and confusion in your eyes, his heart sank.
It was then that he realized what he had just done.
His heart still hammering against his chest as he opened his mouth to speak, stuttering out the first words he could think of.
"I don’t-... I don’t know what came over me-... I'm sorry-” he tried.
You took another step back, your eyes never leaving Bucky's face, watching him as he just realized what he had done.
You didn't want to be mean, to mock him or anything but this wasn't right.
"... I... listen..." you started, voice wavering a little…" we're just…in a program together… there's… there's nothing-"
Then you stumbled a little, both your hand went to grip the sink behind you to keep you upright. Still, you felt confused, mind clouded as a strange feeling grew inside you.
Bucky felt his heart ache at your words. He knew you were right, of course, you were right.
But in that moment, the realization dawned on him, the realization that he liked you. He wanted you and the thought scared the hell out of him.
He quickly reached out and gently grabbed your elbow to help keep you steady when you stumbled.
He didn’t speak for a moment, a lump in his throat as he cursed himself silently, the fear of losing whatever you both had taking over him.
You flinched out of instinct when you felt his hand touching you again.
This wasn't on purpose, you weren't scared of him but… What if he wanted more? What if he took advantage of your weak state?
That's why you were fine to keep all therapy partners distant, communicating only when needed and not meeting with any of them.
This was wrong, this shouldn’t have happened, you needed to heal not get worse.
"I… I think you should go..." you said after a few minutes, looking away."... I... I'll still help you if you… need me to.”
Bucky felt as if he had been punched in the gut as you flinched away from his touch.
The thought of you fearing him broke his heart even more, confirming every thought his traitorous brain was throwing at him. It was all his fault.
He had pushed, he had been rude and he had to go and act on the feelings he wasn’t supposed to have.
So when you mumbled the next words, he quickly nodded, letting go of your elbow.
"Yeah... yeah alright… whatever you want,” he replied as he took a step back and quickly left the bathroom.
You stood still, looking away until you heard the front door open and close, then you collapsed, knees hitting the floor.
You were trembling, you felt confused as stray tears now streamed down your face again but you also felt at a loss, like someone had stolen your breath.
The next morning you didn’t even remember how you got to bed but you had no intention of leaving it any time soon.
You had nothing much to do and with Bucky probably out of the picture, it was you, alone, all over again.
Still, out of habit in the hours that followed, you checked your phone all the same, finding nothing, as you had expected.
Bucky, on the other hand, was pissed. At himself, that was.
He kept replaying what had happened in his head, the look on your face, the way you had flinched away from him...
All because he had been too nosy, pushing you into an episode, and then on top of that, he had gone and acted on his stupid feelings.
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If you got this far, thank you...more is coming as I already have 40k words about this. <3
#my writing#writemyheartsout's writing#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#hyperfixation#james buchanan barnes#tfatws#blog update#winter soldier#therapy companion trope#therapy#mental health#Bucky has ptsd#marvel fanfiction#marvel#mcu#enemies to friends to lovers#unexpected feelings#trauma bonding#trauma tw#nightmares tw#ptsd tw#trauma survivor#tw anxiety#tw ptsd#tw trauma#tw nightmares#tw trauma survivor#manipulation tw#tw manipulation
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My Love Will Never Die
Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader. Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, burnout, established relationship. Title based off a Hozier's song. Ao3 link.
Summary:
« You've done me wrong for a long, long time. But after all you've done, I never changed my mind. »
Behind you, you wonder if the chauffer it is still there, standing. You know he is, the manners making him wait until you enter the house to only then pull the car to the garage. Watching you frozen in place, bag lazily held in a hand, umbrella in another. Hair disheveled, clothes unruly. You wonder if you look pathetic on his eyes, just as much as you feel currently.
The truth is: you are utterly destroyed.
Not only mentally. Your muscles ache, pain spiking up on your lower back worse than any damage a sharpened knife could cause. Feet so thoroughly hurt by heels they're numb, if not for the casual sharp sting.
It is Gotham. The sky is grey, the city sucks up you out of life each passing moment.
Rain splatters against your umbrella. You stand just before the front door of Wayne Manor, mindlessly fidgeting with the wedding ring sitting pretty on your finger.
One year. You've been married with Bruce Wayne for one year already? Doesn't feel like it.
Time flew before your eyes, the start of it all just below your eyelids. Every first so toothachingly sweet, burned into your brain. Press nails against skin until it sharpens.
Behind you, you wonder if the chauffer it is still there, standing. You know he is, the manners making him wait until you enter the house to only then pull the car to the garage. Watching you frozen in place, bag lazily held in a hand, umbrella in another. Hair disheveled, clothes unruly.
You wonder if you look pathetic on his eyes, just as much as you feel currently.
Not worthy of the surname Wayne, to be called “lady of the house”.
Time is a cruel kind of lesson.
"Ms. Wayne." Alfred's voice, invariably courteous, calls. You almost wince at the door opening. He stands before you, maybe a little unnerved by your state, but if it's displeasure or worry on his face, you can't tell.
He masks terrifically well. You're always alarmed by this.
"Are you alright, ma'am?"
At that, you do wince.
"Yes, Alfred." Your brain haven't even processed his presence yet when you walk past him. He takes your coat and bag. "Just got lost in thoughts for a moment."
"Pondering the mysteries of our universe at the front step?" Ah, you do love the edge of sass in his voice. You meet his eyes, a shy-like (unlike you) smile cursing your face. "Shall I fetch for tea? Supper will be served in one hour's time."
Some months ago, you might have looked forward for it. If Bruce couldn't welcome you after work, he at least would make sure to eat dinner with you.
Deep in your stomach, rot. You swallow dry.
"No, thanks," you say, taking a deep breath. Desperately– desperately talking through the knot in your throat. "I just want to hit the showers and sleep," you say, all sincerity.
You smile politely. He doesn't pushes you.
It is easy to backslide. To make oneself likeable, less volatile, more agreeable. Until you can earn love and care.
(Oh. It's getting bad again.)
"And Bruce?" You ask halfway through up the stairs, despite yourself. My love for you is bigger than words. I search for you everywhere.
The silence that hangs would be enough of an answer. Alfred is merciful, though. "Still working, ma'am."
Isn't it painful? Loving someone just from outside their life?
Wayne Manor is a haunted house. Constantly burning, touching the skies with horrible black smoke. Sculpted coffered ceilings, furniture of expensive dark wood. Bristol, yet you can see the city and all its skyscrapers by the right window.
Wayne Manor, aka Bruce Wayne's first grave.
Every corner, a memory.
"Of course," you mutter to yourself, emotion pooling in the eyes.
Love is about the failure of language, so you fall silent and disappear into the halls.
~*~*~
The sheets are clean like you know they would be.
Heels are the first to go. You kick them off, grumbling in satisfaction. Earrings next, then lipstick messily scrubbed off in any sheet of paper.
Hairpin and belt lost to the ground. Bra? Disappeared.
Yet, despite being absolutely exhausted, you stop just before the bed. Ice at the nape of your neck like a garrote, a promise. Knot in your throat to hang on.
King-sized, silk sheets, cloud soft. Each breath is a stutter of a muscle, the blood running in your veins a statement that you are, in fact, alive.
Isn't it such a lousy fear? The fear to sleep and have yet another nightmare. Oh, to be worn out mind and body and still unable to touch a bed.
The sheets are clean, white-pure. Sours you mouth.
Messy and childish fear. To see the future, where he dies by your feet using the damned cowl. Feats unnamed, life unhonoured.
Death smiles to Batman.
(Ah, Bruce. I would break my own fingers for you. Tear the tongue out of my mouth.
But there are limits.)
You can't even remember half those nightmares. Hands shaking, clattered flesh, de-boned corpses–
You don't want to ruin the sheets. You don't want to ruin your life.
~*~*~
It might be 5am.
He nuzzles against your neck, breath hot and exhausted, chest to your back. Skin painted with purple and red, scar-tissue mapping constellations, saying eat.
Eat you do. Bite one step removed, soft-mouthed kissing blue veins and rough hands. Until you lips become raw and numb.
His weight sinks the mattress, acting like a gravitational pull. Bruce's body, which furnaces can't compare, protectively embraces you.
He's so warm. It's 5am and you both are lying together, legs intertwined, his face buried on your shoulder. You listen to his breathing, slow and controlled, in the comforting quiet of unrealized-hours.
I wish the past had been kinder on you. How the world is cruel and how you refuse to be.
Soft sunlight hums through the damasked curtains, birds start to sing. You are wide awake, and he is too.
You'd seen him die down in your mind, every night. He lives your nightmares, putting on the suit. You're not bound to him by fate, not a soulmate, with no divine intervention; hallowed by gums aching and reverence– that is to say: the door is open, you can walk away.
Because one day, he won't come back.
You know it. He knows it. He has the arrangements prepared for the occasion.
And nowadays, he can't afford to leave the cave if not for going downtown.
The life of a hero is very unthankful.
"Do you hate me?" he asks you, voice rough to be an knife's edge. It's been long enough since you last felt him this close, low in your ear.
Bruce assures you through touch. Calloused thumb rubbing your wrist. Affections ebbs in his palms, love even. A work in progress.
In all your inner turmoil, you can see yourself getting quite tired of it all. The late nights crawling up walls, knowing he won't come back until morning– the stitching of wounds, his blood in the Persian rugs– but to imagine oneself as his enemy? As in, hating him?
"No," you murmur in a steady heartbeat. A detour cross your mind, of eustress: he gets tired too. And, then you say for good measure, "Never."
People don't really think how tiring tragic the life of a hero is. But there's this exhilarating moment where all that exists is Bruce's breath in your skin.
"Do you love me?" he asks because he can't take any chances. Oh, you can bet a kid that grew up traumatized will need reassurance. Constant, gentle reassurance.
White stripes of scars in his knuckles and forearms below your fingertips, drawing into your memory again and again.
The truth is: you are utterly destroyed.
Not only physically. But he tugs with your heartstrings everyday, bruised like he'd been squeezing it. The more it lingers more you realize you've been packing up emotions for weeks, now.
"What a silly thing to ask," you say. Not an answer. Neither are breathing for a second, there. You teeth clatter like a damn trying to bust.
Ah! There's a lot of messed up stuff happening all the time. You coil in yourself, perhaps considering. Bruce's touch shudders.
And there is something to realize. You'd rather die drowning for love than in thirst of it. Repeat to yourself, to him, I will never leave you. In healthiness and sickness–
"On purpose. Always–"
Love, who is brutal, who is stored in the viscera–
"–I love you."
A/N: If you like what I do, please consider supporting me and buying a coffee!
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne x fem!reader#bruce wayne x you#batman x you#batman x reader#bruce wayne#arwrites#me!batman
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Hello! Apologies if this has been asked before, just wondering what you envision Charles and Crystal’s music to sound like in your AU? Funnily enough, Charles in my head sounds a lot like JCB song by Nizlopi, not vibes wise but very much his voice is quite emotive and at the core of his music (ie he can Sing) and if he dropped the production and went acapella no one would notice or care. As for Crystal, Izzy Bizu or Alunageorge? She has The Range and can play with genres but the assholes at their old company only let her do radio pop? Sorry that got long but I'd love to hear your thoughts if you have any :)
hello!! i'm visiting family and dying of allergies and i finally got a second to myself to open this app HI <3 no one has asked me this question yet!
just listened to JCB song and i like it!!! Charles in my head is a bit like hozier in the sense that you can't always hear his accent when he sings, or his accent is stronger in some songs than it is with others. 100% on the "if he dropped the production and went acapella no one would notice or care" I like to imagine there's so many vids of him and crystal online just filming each other singing in the empty studio performing acapella versions of their own/eachothers songs/covers.
in terms of what their music sounds like: Charles' spotify profile says rock and apple music says alternative, while crystal's spotify profile says alternative and apple music says pop. I have a shit ton of maneskin in my charles playlist (bc the series title <3) some yungblud, some luke hemmings. at some point he does a truely haunting cover of black hole sun on piano completely stripped back with just his voice and it definitely goes viral and gains him some new fans
crystal is trickier for me bc i have spent more time working on charles but yes i LOVE Izzy Bizu and 100% agree with you! also you're spot on with your guess that old label wanted her to fit into that specific pop girly box. she wanted to branch out with her lyrics and style and the prev label was always like "haha no </3". but now!!! i can see her putting out a darker/more emotional/edgier album or EP where she opens up about her past trauma and addictions (which we will get into soonish. in a future fic or several). she is only on her second studio album (charles is on his third) so she has plenty of time and space to spread her wings and experiment!
on her playlist i have a lot of halsey, some kimbra. she can Sing sing. she eventually blows up sabrina carpenter style. she and charles do many many collabs together and get a tour like charli xcx & troye sivan
anyway thank you for this ask and for letting me ramble <3
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Ao3 Wrapped
Tagged by @sam-loves-seb @energievie and @mybrainismelted <3
1. How many words have you written this year?
51,142, not including Galladrabbles or work on WIPs that haven't been published yet, so probably closer to 80k
2. How many works did you publish this year?
6 fics and 4 pieces of artwork
3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?
Probably The Blackwing Prophecy because it's my most ambitious work so far!
4. What work of yours has the most hits?
For fics only, 7 Minutes in Heaven with 3,369 hits
5. What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?
The Stowaway for sure. I was just expecting to write a silly pirate one-shot and everyone in the comments wanted more lmao
6. Favorite title you used?
Touch/Starved because it reminds me of something that like Hozier or Noah Kahan would use for a title of one of their songs
7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?
I normally don't, but in my drawing Somethin' to Keep You Cool I quoted Ice Cream Man by Van Halen (because the original fic did as well hehe)
8. Pairing you wrote the most for this year?
Gallavich <3
9. Favorite pairing you wrote for this year?
Technically Gallavich but the scrubbed characters I re-wrote for The Menagerie, Mal and Rowan, have a special place in my heart <3
10. What work was the quickest to write?
Probably Locking Down the Locksmith
11. What work took you the longest to write?
The Blackwing Prophecy because it involed lots of lore creation and worldbuilding before I even started writing the fic.
Or Gallavich Week 2024 - Nine AUs because I had to fit 4 prompts into each 400 word ficlet and make them coherent.
12. How many WIPs do you have in your docs for next year?
3 so far! The Blackwing Prophecy, that priest!Ian fic that still has eluded me finishing it, and now The Stowaway
13. What’s your longest work of the year?
The Blackwing Prophecy with 20,048 words so far
14. What’s your shortest work of the year?
7 Minutes in Heaven with 2,832 words (not including artwork)
15. What WIP are you taking into next year with you?
Same three as in question #12 (plus maybe a couple more shhh)
16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?
Probably Alternate Universe! That's pretty much all I write lmao
17. Your favorite character to write this year?
I really loved exploring touch starved/touch averse Mickey in Touch/Starved.
18. The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year?
Probably Ian in The Blackwing Prophecy because he's struggling with keeping secrets and that's something he's not very good at (and neither am I)
19. What’s one pairing you want to explore next year?
Always more Gallavich <3
20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?
The Blackwing Prophecy because I need to remember what happened lmao
21. How many kudos in total did you get this year?
2,307 🥰
22. Which work has the most comments?
7 Minutes in Heaven with 38 comment threads
23. Did you do any collaborative works this year?
Nope!
24. Did you write any gifts this year?
I wrote Touch/Starved for @michellemisfit as well as drew art for various people!
25. Did you receive any gifts this year?
Yes! @mybrainismelted wrote Nuts for me because I got a flat tire and wanted someone to make a Gallavich version of the shitshow that it was lmao. And also I commissioned Old Habits and New Revelations from @whatthebodygraspsnot!
26. What’s your most common category?
M/M always
27. What do you listen to while writing?
Honestly either Legend of Zelda speedruns or lawn care videos because I'm a psycho
28. Favorite work you wrote this year?
Probably The Stowaway because I can't stop thinking about it
29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?
How does he describe feeling like you’re going to explode and implode simultaneously? How does he tell her that he’s been thinking about Ian’s hand on the back of his neck nonstop and aching to feel it again with every fiber of his being? But that the thought of it is so overwhelming that he can’t actually bear it? — from Touch/Starved
Or, the scene in chapter 4 of The Blackwing Prophecy where Ian is deciding to heal Mickey or not.
30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?
Starting 2 new major WIPs and still not finishing the one I've been trying to write for like 2 years now lmao
Tagging @gallawitchxx @deedala @whatthebodygraspsnot @thisdivorce if you want to play!
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