#winter soldier press tour

[justarandomgirly]

#sebastian stan #my gifs #winter soldier #press tour #facepalm

[mixedstyles]

Captain America the Winter Solider era Chris Evans is the best Chris Evans era. I said what I said. No, I will not take feedback.

#i said what i said #THE SLIGHTLY BLOND HAIR #THE SUIT #THE EVERYTHING #LITERALLY #not even in the movie #press tours and red carpets #he looked so good #rey’s thoughts #chris evans #captain america #the winter soldier #marvel #captain America the winter soldier

[not-that-syndrigast]

Stucky fanfic recs

below you can find some of my all time favourite Stucky fics that have ruined my life 💕 not really sorted except for the first three which are my all time favourites

creative | canon adjacent | AU | modern AU | small steve | sexual content

United States v. Barnes, 617 F. Supp. 2d 143 (D.D.C. 2015)

The Associated Press @AP

Winter Soldier set to stand trial for Washington D.C. massacre and treason apne.ws/1og6SWE

(Creative, canon adjacent)

End OTW Racism | Steve Rogers at 100: Celebrating Captain America on Film

“Heil Hydra,” the enemy agent shouts.

“Heil this, motherfucker,” says Captain America, shooting off a rocket.

Steve and Bucky find out Hollywood has been busy since they went away. A historical survey, including but not limited to: one set of exploded genitals, a brief interlude in France, Mel Gibson and other masterworks of casting, eight Academy awards, several dinosaurs, and something Tony Stark has ominously dubbed “the masterpiece.” Art included.

(creative, canon adjacent)

A long winter

In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore.

In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter.

In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

(AU)

Just say you do

Steve just wanted a job. He wasn't expecting a marriage proposal. And he certainly wasn't expecting to accept.

(Modern AU, small Steve)

ain't no grave (can keep my body down)

It's six in the morning, and Steve is heading out on a run when he nearly trips over a bouquet of sunflowers on the front steps of his brownstone.

For a second paranoia takes over, and he kicks the flowers a little, waiting for them to explode. They don't. They also came with a card, which he picks up. The front of the card has a tasteful picture of the Brooklyn bridge at sunset. It's very nice and sedate, like the kind of card you would buy to give to your boss. On the inside someone has written a short message in big, shaky block letters.

I AM SORRY FOR SHOOTING YOU.

Steve sits down hard on the steps.

(Canon adjacent)

casual encounters

“You have never once been careful in your entire life.” Bucky huffs out a laugh. He looks away. “Maybe I’m offended you didn’t think to ask me.” He says it like a joke, but he can’t bring himself to laugh again.

“Bucky,” Steve says, scandalized. “You’re my friend. I’m not gonna use you to experiment sexually.”

(Modern AU, small Steve, sexual content)

If they haven't learned your name

Steve gets out of the hospital in two days, but just barely. “I’m fine,” he tells Sam, Nurse Eunjung and the phalanx of doctors assigned to make sure Captain America didn’t bleed out and die and get bad PR all over their nice clean hospital. “I have an advanced healing factor. It’s fine. See? I’m standing.”

“That is not standing,” Sam tells him.

“You’re bending the IV stand,” Nurse Eunjung adds pointedly. “Let go and sit down, they don’t grow on trees.”

aka Steve and Bucky's Global Honeymoon Revenge World Tour.

(Canon adjacent)

choices we're given

Steve Rogers is a good man and a good agent. There's really no excuse for the assassin in his bed.

(Modern AU, sexual content)

through the woods

There’s a legend in Mansewood, nearly as old as the town itself, about a pack of werewolves that once lived in the forest. They say only one survives; a monstrous and snarling beast with fur like a blizzard and fangs the size of daggers. They say it guards the lands and all creatures in it, and no hunter has faced it and lived to tell the tale.

Steve doesn’t care about any of that. He only wants to know if it prefers T-Bone or ribeye, and would it please stop tracking dirt through his house? He just mopped the floor.

(Modern AU, sexual content)

#stucky #steve rogers #captain america #james bucky buchanan barnes #the winter soldier #fanfiction #fanfiction recommendation #ao3 #steve x bucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #bucky barnes #recommendations #ao3 recs #resurrect stucky 2024

[wintersmetal]

🎸 ᴡᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʀᴏᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀʀ | ʙᴜᴄᴋʏ

pairing: rockstar!Bucky Barnes x G/N!Reader

word count: 2.3K

summary: You’re a big fan of the Winter Soldier, a rockstar who just so happened to come to your local town. At the concert, though, flirty things begin to happen–and suddenly, you’ve gotten closer to the musician than any other fan

warnings/content: drinking [small mention a few times], flirting, long-haired bucky

note: hello, hello. this is my first time posting for the marvel fandom, so please be gentle if this doesn't seem entirely accurate. reblogs/likes and comments are greatly appreciated, and thank you for reading.

Bodies were pressed up against one another, surrounding the small elevated stage like moths to a lamp. Hands extended towards the stage, palms open and splayed to try and get a touch at the musicians. It was stuffy and cramped, and your drink did not seem to help cool you down. There you stood, though, too stubborn to move with the flood of people. You had pushed against what felt like a hoard of millions to get to this spot and you are not letting it go that easily.

You needed to see the infamous Winter Soldier up close and personal. 

You didn’t expect him to come to this small of an area. You lived in a quaint town with not a lot of action–the most exciting attractions were the mall stocked with stores that were typically too far, and the bar you were currently standing in. When he had released the tour dates and areas, your eyes had honed in on the familiar name of the bar, followed by a date and a time–all three had seemingly fallen right into place in your schedule. Coupled with the fact that this was a free show, you had come to the bar extremely early. 

Sure enough, other people had, too. You were determined to get front row,

though, and had even teamed up with a group of fellow fans in order to form an impenetrable wall and walk yourselves up to the front. That plan had worked in your favor. Now here you were, standing right where you wanted to be: front and center with a beer in your hand. 

The stage of the bar was lit with no musicians present. However, you knew their

arrival would be any moment now. You tried to peek around the curtains but couldn’t make anything out of the shadows behind the fabric. You took a heavy swig of your beer, trying to keep yourself from dehydrating in the middle of the concert. Though, it probably wasn’t the best thing for you to be drinking. 

Suddenly, the lights dimmed in the bar. The stage lights got brighter. You felt your heart racing in your chest. The beer felt colder. The room was tighter. Everyone began yelling and begging for the Winter Soldier to come out. You tried to drown out the high-pitched yells directly behind you by taking another sip of your beer, but the sound of you swallowing in your ears didn’t seem to cancel out the noise. You weren’t too annoyed by all the yelling, though. It’s common concert practice. You expected this bar to be pretty empty aside from the fans however, so the noise was a bit unfortunate. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you saw the Winter Soldier walk out onto the stage. He was sporting his longer hair pulled back into a small half-up half-down hairstyle, and his beard was perfectly trimmed to be husky but presentable. His left hand was resting on the curvature of his guitar, while his right hand was holding the neck of the instrument. His fingers were placed between the third and fourth fret, playing with the strings and making sure he was comfortable with his placement. He wore a black tee with his logo on the right corner, a bright red star with a silver outline, and black jeans that flare at the bottom. To finish off the ‘rocker’ aesthetic, he had chunky black boots that stomped against the wooden stage with force. 

He moved his left arm and ran his fingers along his chin, as if preparing himself for the concert. He looked rugged in the best way possible: a little darkness under his eyes from the light of the bar, strands of his hair resting right on the top of his shoulder, and his muscles flourishing under the fluorescent spotlight. He moved his hand away from his face and to the strings of the guitar, pulling a few and slapping them against his fingers.

Finally, he moved his hand up along the metal strings and down across all six of them while his right hand on the frets moved along, creating a pleasant chord that echoed through the bar. As the note reverberated through the speakers, the cheering only grew in volume, begging for the concert to start with this song or that song. You, on the other hand, kept your lips sealed and clung to your beer.

Time seemed to slow as the Winter Soldier looked down at the crowd. You were looking up at him, a smile tugging at your face. You couldn’t resist breaking out into an excited grin, something gleeful; you were a child in a candy shop looking at the newest sweets. Your toothy smile even reached the corners of your eyes, creating a small crease in the skin. 

Suddenly, you were staring into ocean-blue eyes from where you were standing. You felt the beer slowly start to slip from your grip as you stared at the Winter Soldier. Something twinkled in his eyes as he stared right back at you. You felt pride in your chest as he began to smile at your expression. You were the reason he was smiling. Nobody else in that bar mattered except for you two. 

It seems as though everyone else’s eyes were on you, too. You broke away from his stare and looked at the fan next to you, who simply stared at you in wonder that the entire scene had happened. 

“Nobody’s ever made him smile like that.” The woman said, sipping her own beer. She held out her beverage for a toast, to which you happily clinked your half-empty bottle against hers. “Congrats.”

“I highly doubt that,” you replied. “I’m sure he’s smiled plenty of times.”

“Not like that, honey.” The woman laughed to herself and turned her head toward the stage, cheering on the Winter Soldier like normal.

You stood there, listening to your own wonder in your head. You were the first time he’s smiled ‘like that’. ‘Like that’: that phrase repeated throughout your head. Surely it was the fan trying to get into your head, but the thought of you being the reason why he smiled the way he did was enough to set your heart ablaze. It made your hands feel fuzzy and your smile doubled in size. 

You proceeded to keep this grin throughout the whole concert, going against your own vow to stay silent during the music. You began to sing along to some of your favorite songs as you watched the Winter Soldier play, mesmerized by the way he worked his hands along the guitar. It was truly something different, seeing the musician play in-person and this up close: you got to see the sweat bead against his brow, hear his voice much clearer and crisper, and feel the way his eyes lingered over you each time he finished a song. 

His gaze made you shrink in on yourself just a bit, but it was the best feeling to wash over you in ages. It was like the warmth of the bar was merely a candle flame compared to the heat growing in your chest. On top of all of the gazes you two made at each other, he made a few obvious winks and flirtatious whispers in-between songs. The one that set you on fire was when he finished the second-to-last song: he pressed his lips against the microphone as he stopped his singing, almost like he was kissing it, and looking directly at you. To anyone else, this was just part of the rockstar act. To you and your imagination, though, it was a way of him saying he wanted to kiss you. You chose to believe your imagination, unable to swallow down the desire in your throat. 

Once the concert ended, you were the first to move away from the stage and out of the crowd. You decided that you needed to sit down and take a breather. It was swelteringly hot in the bar and you knew that if you looked at the Winter Soldier any longer, you would collapse from the heat in your chest and heart. 

You looked over and saw him greeting his fans, signing autographs and taking photos with them. You smiled to yourself. Something about him going from this tough rockstar to a softie made your heart burn.  You turned toward the bartender and asked for another beer. You paid for your tab and took the beer in your hand, the cold condensation of the bottle cooling you off. 

You kept your gaze off the crowd of fans and instead began chatting up the bartender who returned the conversation with ease. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t a fan and wouldn’t feed into your desires. Said desires began to dissipate as you came to your senses and sipped on your cold beer. 

“Is this seat taken?” A voice cut through the long conversation you and the bartender were having. You looked over and felt your heart race. 

The Winter Soldier was standing next to the empty chair beside you, one hand leaning against the back of the barstool. The other was running through his hair, wiping the sweat off his brow. 

“No, not at all.” You looked back to the bartender who winked at you. “Um, hi.”

“Hi.” The Winter Soldier ordered a drink and turned the stool to face you. “No need to be so shy.”

You felt a blush spread across your cheeks. “I’m not trying to be.”

“Names’s James, but most of my friends call me Bucky.” He offered his hand. “You are?”

You stated your name with a small hesitance in your voice. You couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“What a nice name.” Bucky smiled at you. He turned his attention to the bartender who gladly offered him his drink.

You sat there a bit awkwardly as he took a sip of his drink. You didn’t know what to say or do in the presence of your biggest celebrity crush. He was eyeing you up again, this time through the corners of his eyes. Accompanying this look was a smug smirk, something that made your heart flutter. 

“It was a really good set, Bucky.” You felt a bit weird calling him by his name, but he seemed to glow as you did. 

“You think so?” He put his drink down on top of the countertop and fully faced you. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

You began to glow under his praise. “Um–”

“There you go, getting all shy.” He laughed. “It’s cute.”

You felt your face fully burn bright red. You didn’t know what to do, so you just laughed at his comment and took a heavy swig of your beer. “Thank you?”

“Why is it a question?” He leaned closer to you, and you noticed the height difference between the two of you. 

“I’m just–” You looked away from him and cleared your throat. “I’m really nervous.”

“Is it because you’re a fan?” Bucky took a sip of his drink. “Because, in all honesty, I shouldn’t be talking to you like this.”

You perked up a bit at that. “Why’s that?”

“Because what if you fall in love with me?” He smirked. “Plus, all the paparazzi and flashing lights. You know, the usual.”

“The usual is me falling in love with you?” You choked out.

“No, sweetheart.” He put his hand on top of yours and squeezed it gently. “You’re adorable.”

You swallowed. “Ah.”

He laughed yet again, this time with his whole chest. It was comforting and warm, a side of him you got to see that maybe nobody else gets to. You felt special.

“Say, why don’t I give you my number?”

“Huh?” You looked at him in surprise. “I really don’t know–”

“Do you not want to?” His tone got a bit more serious, and he looked at you with soft but determined eyes. “Just say the word and I’ll leave you be.”

“Why me?” You asked. “That’s all I want to know.”

“I thought you were incredibly pretty. On top of that, I want to get to know you as Bucky and not my stage name. You know me as the ‘Winter Soldier’, but something in you wants to know Bucky, right?”

He read your mind. You nodded your head and smiled at him. “Yeah, I’d like to know Bucky.”

“Good.” He put his hand out as a silent question for your phone.

You pulled your phone out of your back pocket and handed it to him unlocked. He tapped around a few times before finally typing in his number. He handed your phone back to you.

“Make sure you text me, okay?” Bucky smiled at you and polished off his drink. “I’ll be waiting.” He sounded eager.

You couldn’t help but grin like you did during the concert. You tried to hide it with the bottle of your beer but couldn’t stop it from poking out behind the bottle. You nodded your head, giddy and excited like a kid in a candy store. 

“Of course, Bucky.”

“I love the way you say my name,” Bucky replied, standing up from the barstool. “I could listen to you say it all day.” 

With that last statement, he left the bar through the back door. You watched him leave, waving to him as he waved to you. You sat on your stool for a few more seconds before getting up, placing your half-empty bottle on top of the countertop. You pulled out your phone and typed in ‘James’ at first, but no contact popped up. You then tried ‘Bucky,’ and there he was.

You shot him a small text saying ‘Hello’ with your name in it. As you went to put your phone back into your pocket, you felt it vibrate against your palm. 

‘Glad you decided to get to know me. ;)’

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky x gender neutral reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x male reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #rockstar!bucky barnes #rockstar!bucky #personal works

[gyokujyn]

A Softer World Remix Masterpost

For the Captain America: The Winter Soldier 10th Anniversary Event, I may have gone a little overboard remixing A Softer World comics in the style of @asofteravenger. Here is a comprehensive list of every remix I posted, including the rejects which did not make the cut for the original event.

CATWS 10th Anniversary Event Remixes by Day

Key 💜: Personal Favourites ⭐ : Fan Favourites

🔴 March 26th: On Your Left ◽close enough for government work [prompt: PTSD; char: bucky] ◽is this progress? [prompt: first meetings; char: steve, nat, sam] ◽when home is a person SkyMiles won't get you there [prompt: the smithsonian; char: steve, bucky] 💜who the hell is bucky? [prompt: the smithsonian; char: steve, bucky]

🔴 March 27th: Steve Rogers ◽for a treat [prompt: guilt; char: steve, howling commandos] 💜guilt will quench a fire as surely as the thawing winter [prompt: guilt; char: steve, strike team] 💜haha that's a totally normal answer to the question [prompt: fave steve quote; char: sam, steve] ◽it's what they call a catch-22 [prompt: elevator; char: steve, brock, strike team] ◽put it on the list [prompt: Steve's List; char: steve] ◽what could go wrong? [prompt: camp lehigh; char: zola]

🔴 March 28th: SHIELD ◽either way I'll be leaving you bleeding [prompt: weapons; bucky, steve] ◽i'm so sorry [prompt: compromised; char: steve, nick] ◽it is cold. [prompt: fave scene; char: bucky] 💜probably the windows too [prompt: neighbor; char: steve, sharon]

🔴 March 29th: Natasha Romanoff ◽are you? [prompt: fave nat quote; nat, pierce] 💜as soon as he's dead i can be on my way [prompt: natasha romanoff; char: nat, bucky] ◽get loved loser [prompt: disguise; char: nat, steve] ◽now i want cinnabon [prompt: mall; char: steve, strike] ◽who needs good choices anyway? [prompt: redemption; char: nat, steve]

🔴 March 30th: TWS Cast ◽and they were first mates [prompt: tws cast; char: tws cast] ◽do you think we could catch lightning in a bottle twice? [prompt: press conference; char: tws cast] ◽shh he eepy [prompt: stunts; char: tws cast] 💜try a knife flip! [prompt: stunts; char: sebastian stan]

🔴 March 31st: Sam Wilson 💜c'mon sam it was one time [prompt: wings; char: sam, bucky] ◽extra virgin [prompt: fave sam quote; char: sam, rumlow] ◽have you ever known what it's like to feel the exhilaration of really flying [prompt: sam wilson; char: sam] ◽oops sorry maria [prompt: sam wilson; char: sam, maria] ⭐the graveyard of our memories [prompt: Dept of VA; char: sam]; all our mausoleums have eyes [prompt: none (bonus); char: bucky, steve]

🔴 April 1st: HYDRA ◽and in such creative ways [prompt: fave fight; char: bucky] ◽beatings shall continue until morale improves [prompt: project insight; char: none] ◽besides what grave could hold you? [prompt: strike; char: rumlow, steve] ◽how many gunshot wounds is an orgasm? [prompt: fave fight; char: bucky, steve] ◽oh it's supposed to be enemies TO lovers [prompt: fave fight; char: bucky, steve] 💜scream for daddy [prompt: hydra; char: pierce, bucky] ◽tony only watches vanilla het porn pass it on [prompt: project insight; char: tony] 💜what kind of monster leaves the milk out on the counter? [prompt: hydra; char: pierce] ◽you don't have to be the fastest runner you just have to be faster than Project Insight [prompt: fave fight; char: rumlow, sam]

🔴 April 2nd: Bucky Barnes ◽a ghost story [prompt: ghost story; char: bucky, steve] ◽and then you remember [prompt: memories; bucky] ◽baby did you forget to take your meds? [prompt: memories; char: steve, bucky] 💜but spare the rod and spoil the child [prompt: bank; char: bucky, pierce, rumlow] ◽i kicked off bucky's world revenge tour 2k14 and all i got was half-drowned in the potomac [prompt: revenge; char: bucky, steve] ⭐i've always been an overachiever [prompt: revenge; char: steve, bucky] 💜past tense [prompt: "but i knew him"; char: steve, bucky] ◽rlb [prompt: revenge; char: bucky, steve] ◽the unpaid internship of a lifetime [prompt: bucky barnes; char: bucky, zola] ◽what gives a ghost nightmares [prompt: bucky barnes; char: bucky, steve] ◽ya gotov otvechat [prompt: bank; char: bucky]

🔴 April 3rd: Cap Quartet 💜advanced car surfing for dummies [prompt: cap quartet; char: nat, steve, sam, bucky] 💜alexa play jolene [prompt: cap quartet; char: nat, steve, sam, bucky] ◽gotta catch 'em all [prompt: cap quartet; char: bucky, nat, sam, steve] ◽hi i'm captain america [prompt: bedside vigil; char: sam, steve] ◽or a blond carnie with hearing aids and really good aim [prompt: cap quartet; char: steve, nat, sam, bucky] ◽peer pressure [prompt: fave duo; char: nat, steve] ◽some people get both [prompt: found family; char: nat, sam, steve]

🔴 April 4th: To the End of the Line ⭐but you can't seem to convince them of that [prompt: devotion; char: steve, bucky] ◽cause i'm with you til the end of the line pal [prompt: to the end of the line; char: steve, bucky] 💜i stopped remembering the exact weight of your hand and now i only know it with a knife [prompt: 1940s; char: steve, bucky] ⭐or die trying [prompt: reunion; char: bucky, steve] ◽sorry officer we'll remember to use the gag next time [prompt: helicarrier; char: steve, bucky] ◽that'll teach me [prompt: identity porn; char: steve, bucky] ◽the good news it can't be illegal if there's no word for it [prompt: fave stucky scene; char: bucky, steve] ◽the safe word is jersey [prompt: devotion; char: bucky, steve] 💜this is not what getting railed means [prompt: helicarrier; char: bucky] 💜walt disney did not prepare me for this body count [prompt: identity porn; char: steve] ◽we've had too many next times already [prompt: schoolyard to battlefield; char: bucky, steve] ◽yes even that [prompt: helicarrier; char: steve] ◽you either die young or live long enough to become the cautionary tale [prompt: devotion; char: bucky, steve]

CATWS 10th Anniversary | REJECTS!

Key 💜: Personal Favourites ⭐ : Fan Favourites

Run | Series MasterPost featuring: ◽alexa play run this town by jay-z rihanna and kanye west [char: nick] 💜alexa play run by daughter [char: nat] ◽alexa play run (beautiful things)(highsociety remix) by awolnation [char: bucky] ◽alexa play run boy run by woodkid [char: steve] ◽alexa play run by onerepublic [char: sam]

Barbershop Quartet (feat. any two+ except Stucky) | REJECTS! ◽hands off the boots [prompt: natasha romanoff] 💜he's a smooth operator [prompt: none] 💜she's gonna bite someone [prompt: disguise] ◽untitled (working title: all of it goes) [prompt: cap quartet] ◽untitled (working title: do i gotta make more romanorogers?) [prompt: none]

Bucky | REJECTS! ◽and a whole lot of UST [prompt: helicarrier] ◽untitled (working title: are u new) [prompt: bucky barnes] ◽untitled (working title: head injury) [prompt: bucky barnes]

HYDRA (Pierce, Rumlow, Zola, et al. feat. others) | REJECTS! ◽and your very own unicorn [prompt: hydra] ⭐but i knew him [prompt: "but i knew him"] ◽gotta look out for your assigned alphabet soup guy [prompt: project insight] ◽i thought this was america [prompt: none] 💜like parking in a driveway [prompt: elevator] ◽the road to hell is paved with kicking your ass [prompt: none]

Nick (feat. the Barbershop Quartet) | REJECTS! ◽untitled (working title: and AARP!) [prompt: project insight]

Steve | REJECTS! ◽and almost dead is still slightly alive [prompt: steve rogers] 💜glory [prompt: steve rogers, character bleed] ◽it is a disney property [prompt: steve rogers] ◽knock knock mf (working title: this one might send me to hell) [prompt: memories] ◽untitled (working title: elevator) [prompt: elevator] ◽untitled (working title: good work ethic) [prompt: guilt] ⭐untitled (working title: trade off) [prompt: none]

Stucky | REJECTS! 💜alexa play who wants to live forever [prompt: to the end of the line] ◽all our mausoleums have eyes (alt panel) [prompt: none (bonus panel)] ⭐body language [prompt: reunion] ⭐he's a little confused but he's got the spirit [prompt: none] 💜how it makes you a weapon [prompt: none, memories] ⭐just your hand on my body again [prompt: devotion] ◽we call this a midwest goodbye [prompt: fave fight, helicarrier] ◽untitled (working title: terrorist) [prompt: fave fight]

#marvel mcu #catws10 #a softer world #a softer avenger #remix #catws10 rejects #jyn makes stuff

[stcverogers]

SEPTEMBER FIC RECS!

fics that i’ve been reading and obsessing with over the month of september

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series /multi part

masterlist

CHRIS EVANS + CHARACTERS

F + A: beautifully unfinished by @kayteewritessteve 𖥻 you are hopelessly in love with your best friend, steve

A: highschool reunion by @sarahrogersevans you see chris again, six years after he broke your heart

F + A: baby mine by @cevansgoatee you and chris find out your daughter isn't excited about the baby

F: home is where the love is by @elrw24 chris comes back home after a long press tour

A: right where you love me by @sleepisaturn steve asks you out on a date but he doesn't show

F + A: muse by @moonlight-prose 𖥻 steve rogers didn't really believe in love. that was till he saw you.

A: only love can hurt like this by @chuckbass-love 𖥻 you and ransom had been doing seemingly well. however, an overheard conversation with his friends causes you to question everything about your relationship.

F + A: rawhide by @wiypt-writes 𖥻 the country is split into two different parties, hydra and shield. with your alpha dead and the leader of hydra on your tail, you flee to montana. it is there that you find your soulmate.

F + A: the highest bidder by @pagesoflauren 𖥻 desperate for money to bide your graduate college life by, you decide to auction off your virginity to the highest bidder.

F + A: restitution by @universitypenguin 𖥻 helping to make sure your ex boyfriend pays his rightful dues, you spend the night with two eligible bachelors. the next morning you find out that their brother is someone from your past.

F: her second favourite guy by @secretswiftymarvelfan steve is thoroughly disappointed that he is your second favourite guy, that is, until he meets your favourite guy.

F: seperation anxiety by @no-not-without-you-blog three weeks after you daughter's birth, chris has to leave for work. while away, the only thing on his mind is his girls.

F + A: no strings attached by @viperbarnes even if you've broken up, steve will always be there for you

SEBASTIAN STAN + CHARACTERS

F + A: the sergeant's heart by @foreverindreamlandd 𖥻 losing your brother to the war broke you. this leaves his replacement to the the one to put you back together.

F + A: crazy little thing called love by @barnesjamcs 𖥻 you try to set bucky up with different girls but all he wants is you

F + A: an old friend by @carryonmywaywardbucky when you get frozen along with steve, you wake up decades in the future trying to find yourself again

F + A: saving grace by @barnesandrogersfanfics 𖥻 steve choses to stay in the past and live the life he wishes he could have with peggy. this is where bucky comes in and becomes your only saving grace.

F: that time of year by @edelweiss-and-maple-trees you and bucky spend your anniversary by the fire

F + A: taste of whiskey by @thesoftestpunk you and bucky cross the treshold of being just friends

S: sweet dreams by @buckyalpine you find out bucky's very sweet dreams

F: just the way you are by @mellowsaturns after watching top gun: maverick and thirsting over the naval aviators, you notice a shift in bucky's behaviour

F: good men and tea parties by @writingcroissant bucky can't remember much about his time as the winter soldier, this meant that he doesn't remember you

F + A: in every lifetime by @wkemeup stark industries discovered a fleet of HYDRA ships from the 1940s. a specific cargo on said ships send bucky in a tailspin.

F + A: hang loose by @imtryingmyfuckingbest 𖥻 hangman. day time server and night time vigilante. the vipers, an underground weapons ring has surfaced and the avengers need the assistance of hangman to help take them down.

F: operation get mr bucky and momma together by @golden-barnes amaya hears her mother speaking sweetly of her nice teacher. she comes up with a plan to get the two of them together.

F + A: two kingdoms by @softlybarnes 𖥻 on the day of her wedding day, the future queen is taken by james, the king of a nearby kingdom

F + A: marry for power by @duuhrayliegh though you may be a servant while bucky is a royal, to him, you will always be his equal

F: there is no other love, it’s only yours by @mellowsaturns bucky dreams about a life he is determined to pursue with you

HENRY CAVILL + CHARACTERS

F + A: duke!sy x reader by @cruelfvkingsummer 𖥻 the events that place after finding out that the duke hadn't been faithful

F: his whole world by @shellbilee how baby harper was brought into the world

#chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #sebastian stan x reader #bucky x reader #henry cavill x reader #claire’s fic recs

[rinniereads123]

Series

SOME OF THESE STORIES ARE MATURE! READ THE WARNINGS AND TAGS BEFORE YOU READ!

★ - personal favorites | masterlist

★Love You Like Oxygen - @questionableratatouille00

You and Bucky’s journey through navigating sexual trauma.

★Graveyard - @wkemeup

As the unofficial healer for the Avengers, you pride yourself on the ability to mend heroes with the touch of your hand. Only, your gift comes at a heavy price — one you keep secret from your friends —and when Bucky asks you to do the impossible, they’ll discover why your gift is called a sacrifice, too. 

You Can't Leave Me - @thinkingoutlouddblog

A fight with Bucky distracts you from your mission.

Just let me go - @itsthewritergal

Y/N and Bucky are exes with a history. When Y/N is kidnapped, the Avengers come to her aid, but can she and Bucky make amends?

★your hands have made some good mistakes - @thenhewaswrongaboutme

Bucky has to spend six months locked up with a stranger. His teammates went on an international press tour and left him behind. They hired someone to supervise him, per the conditions of his pardon— a roommate, they said. A roommate?

One's Promised - @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Living a double life was not a choice when one was the daughter of Alexander Pierce. Y/N was the youngest agents of SHIELD and one of the most respected threats within Hydra’s empire. No matter her allegiance, she was feared by both. Y/N Pierce would’ve tried to escape it all… if it hadn’t been for The Winter Soldier.

Flustered - @ellemj

Bucky seems to thoroughly appreciate all women...except for you. When he finds out one of your weaknesses, he can't help but use it against you, which only makes you hate him more.

Of Kings and Beasts - @nastybuckybarnes

Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrusted to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

All the King's Men - @nastybuckybarnes

Your father always said that if it weren’t for your presentation, he’d think you were an Alpha. There’s a reason for that. Growing up in a world where Omegas are treated like garbage, you’ve fought for the respect that you have. Until you’re sold off to an old King desperate for a bride. But you will not lay down and present for your new husband. No, you will fight back.

Worthy - @xalygatorx

Worthy is a slow-burn SFW Marvelverse (films) romance between Loki and a female OC that spans the timeline of the mentioned films in the disclaimer section below. I got to connect some loose ends for myself that I noticed in the films and I hope that they're just as enjoyable for you to revisit as they were for me at the time of writing this and now, reposting it. (Fluff and angst within with a confirmed happy ending.)

Underground - @adrinktostopyourthirst

The Underground is the last way for you to survive whatever is left of the world after the Blip. Natasha introduces you to the Winter Soldier whose wing you're under until you find your way around. He's a stoic Underground fighter and you're... useless.

Missing Piece - @likeahorribledream

When Bucky first arrived to the compound, Steve was his only friend and the only person he trusted himself around. That is until Steve introduces him to you, his best friend. Bucky was fascinated by how often you and Steve would hug each other. It had been a very long time since anyone had touched him in such a loving way and it didn’t take long before Bucky found himself craving your touch, but whenever you’d get too close he would flinch as if someone had hit him. His trauma still too fresh a wound for him to be comfortable with someone touching him. Then one day, he finally fights his instincts and let you touch him. He hadn’t realized how truly touch starved he was until he feels the warmth of your skin against his. Something clicks for the both of you in that moment, you had found your missing piece. As long as you were with each other, you were home. You both tried to fool yourselves into thinking you were just friends, really close friends. Friends that needed to be together almost every minute of every day and who needed to hold each other to be able to sleep at night.

Needs and Wants - @ellemj

When you and Bucky are exposed to an unknown chemical in the field, things go from bad to worse.

Afterglow - @fictive-sl0th

After weeks of research on the super serum, you, a young talented scientist, have settled in well with the Avengers. Pepper and Nat became your best friends, Bruce your colleague, Cap a gentleman, and Bucky one to trust. Only Prince Loki who's forces to support Earth indefinitely, seems especially annoyed by you. One fateful day, when an experiment went horribly wrong, your life would change forever. Just like what you thought you knew about feelings and emotions...

Time and Temptation - @ellemj (not complete)

While the compound is undergoing a security system update, the team is moved into an apartment complex. You were initially set to room with Wanda, but Bucky makes you an offer that you don't even consider refusing.

Plum - @buckybabieboy (not complete)

After a bad day outside and an incident with Bucky, you catch an inexperienced!bucky pathetically humping your pillow. Your sadistic thoughts cause you to get carried away. Bucky's up to it at first, just wanting you to make him feel good. But as the night goes on he begins to realize he was in over his head.

Kingdom Fall - @nastybuckybarnes (not complete)

When an invading Kingdom forces you to flee your home, you find yourself stranded in an enemy kingdom on a farm, and the farmboy is nothing like you thought he would be. 

[mysharona1987]

When you are all for Marvel picking up hot new directors.

But also accept that most of them don’t really know what they are doing in terms of VFX.

Taika literally acts like some CGI guy can wave a magician’s wand and make everything perfect.

That is not how it works.

Marvel do need more experienced directors. Why Wandavision and The Falcon and The Winter Soldier looked amazing. Both had extensive and impressive resumes in film and tv.

And both would know enough not to openly trash your crew on a press tour.

#thor 4 #mcu #marvel #taika waititi #thor #vfx #cgi

[buckyismybicycle]

CHAPTER 10 

Pairing: WS!Bucky x Reader [AO3 LINK] Rating: Explicit Tags/Warnings: canon-typical violence, canon-divergent, angst, fluff, music soothes the soul y’all, soft boi Bucky, all the sex Summary:  You happen to get caught in the Winter Soldier’s attack one day, but you don’t expect to ever see him again. You definitely don’t expect him to show up at your home, bleeding. You definitely, definitely don’t expect to want to go on the run with him.

♬ ♪ ♫ Birds flying high, you know how I feel Sun in the sky, you know how I feel Breeze driftin' on by, you know how I feel ♬ ♪ ♫

Maybe it was the fact that he was getting too comfortable, or maybe he spooked himself by overthinking whether or not HYDRA was looking for him. It could have been a hundred different things, but something was bothering him and he couldn’t take the risk. He’d chance it with the fisherman’s boat, and you packed your belongings once more. Maybe someone would stumble across your little paradise one day and wonder what beautiful lives the previous inhabitants had. If only they knew.

Bucky sticks as close to the shore as he’s willing to - the boat isn’t meant for oceanic tours, even if it’s pretty sturdy for a smaller boat, so he tries to keep the coast just barely in sight. You dock every day, just briefly, to get your bearings and clean yourselves up. Sometimes, when the sun was too unbearable, you’d camp out in the shade or wade in the waters a bit longer before taking off again.

Sometimes, when his hairs stand on end, he swings out wider since he can very likely swim the both of you to shore at any given point, given the waters aren’t too turbulent. Thankfully, the waters were quite calm and the stockpile of supplies they couldn’t store in the little cabin on the deck weren't at any risk.

The most surprising thing was that your lives didn’t alter that much. You still chatted, freely, since nobody was there to overhear. You took turns napping, and even though you didn’t have the same confidence in driving the boat as Bucky did, the tides would help you along while you focused on not crashing into anything. You still both took time to write in your journals. Bucky, it seemed, was doing a lot better and by the time the Philippines came into view, he’d lost most of the tension in his shoulders.

Nights were the best time. Bucky felt more secure in the dark, more confident that you couldn’t be seen. So you both stayed up and slept during the day instead. On the deck, under the stars, you told him all the stories you could of your family. It’d been a long time since you brought up those memories, but being in Bucky’s arms makes you feel like you can face them. Your memories have been clouded over the years, making you unable to enjoy even the happy memories; they were always overshadowed by the loss.

It’s not easy to have lost your family. Bucky understands that more than anyone. Eventually, the clouds that once hung over your head begin to clear.

“Thank you,” you press a kiss to his collarbone where your head is laying.

“For what?”

“For being the moon of my life, and lighting my way again.”

You stretch your legs out on the first tiny island you land on. It’s barely large enough to call an island, but you are thankful for the chance to dig your toes in the ground and challenge Bucky to a friendly spar. It should say something about the both of you that you two have the brightest smiles on your faces at the thought .

You’re a little rusty, and of course, Bucky is never rusty, but it’s fun just to feel your blood pumping again, the adrenaline of trying to predict Bucky’s moves even if you don’t win your sparring matches. Driven by wanting to catch him off guard, you duck and swing, fast and deadly. You catch him in the ribs and he kisses you for it.

Yeah, you’re not the average pair.

You don’t risk Taiwan, but you land in China and sell the boat for a good price - Bucky gets more than he paid for it, in fact. With such a dense population, it’s easier to change your money and hide in the crowd, tourists and locals alike bustling in the streets. You get an apartment - a tiny one, because you’ve lived with much less. It’s two floors above a family restaurant, with another unit underneath you. It’s safe here, for now.

You help Ning Ning in the kitchen downstairs - they all call her that, and you learn that they’re calling her “grandma”. It’s fitting for the small woman who shouts in the kitchen and flips her stir fry with ease, grey hair always pulled back in a bun. You don’t speak their language, but washing dishes doesn’t require any talking; it earns you some extra cash, not that you need it, but it keeps you busy. You build up strength by carrying crates of produce and stacks of dishes. It feels good. The best part is that they always send you home with food, and Bucky studies the dishes and their spices with intensity.

You only let him have rice and soup the first time, but introduce flavours to him slowly. His first encounter with chili peppers left him a little queasy, but he loved it too much to stop. Two months later, you hug Ning Ning and her family goodbye. You learned “thank you” long ago, so you repeat it as many times as you can before tearfully turning away.

They pack up one last container of chicken and rice for you, the aroma of chili making you smile.

Hopping from one lowkey motel to another, you make your way through China. It takes ages. You collect memories and pictures along the way. In your favourite picture, Bucky’s eyes are bright and wide with wonder at the dragon dance they’d witness in the streets, a childlike smile on his face. It was the Lunar New Year, and you both tried mooncakes for the first time. You tape it on the inside of your journal cover.

You’re close enough to Russia that it makes Bucky nervous, so you don’t head north. You trapeze through Tajikistan and Turkmenistan instead. There are traces of Soviet influence, so you don’t stop.

Bucky opts for seafare to cross the Caspian Sea, refusing to set foot in Russia whatsoever.

“Wherever you go, I’ll follow,” you tell him naturally.

Going through Turkey is like a long walk through an art gallery, paintings and colours everywhere you turn. Turkey turns into Greece, where the architecture makes you rave nonstop but the view of the sea takes your breath away. You like all the blue and white that surrounds you, it reminds you of Bucky’s eyes. As a reward, you book a night in a villa, with bubbly champagne and silk sheets that Bucky absolutely wrecks you on. There are no cameras, no prying eyes, just the vast sea for miles and miles.

“I feel like royalty,” you joke, a silk robe loosely sitting on your shoulders as Bucky feeds you grapes. It looks like something out of a cliche movie, but you’re too happy to dwell on it. Your skin smells like rose petals from your bath and your muscles are loosening up for once.

“My Queen,” he mumbles into the back of your hand before kissing it. You can feel his smirk against your skin and the mischievous tone should have been all the warning you needed. In one fluid movement, he places the bowl aside, rolls on top of you and slips the robe off, revealing your bare chest underneath. He wastes no time in claiming your nipples between his teeth, chuckles when your legs jerk in reaction to it all. Licking all the way up, you wait in anticipation until he reaches your lips, his tongue gently slipping in. He makes a pleased noise when you zealously kiss back, your fingers tangled in his hair. The sweetness of champagne and fruits linger on your tongues as they slip against each other lazily. He swipes his thumb across one of your pebbled nipples, and you desperately want to feel more of him.

He reaches between your legs, smug when he feels you’re already wet. The first finger slips in easily, and he takes his time even when you buck your hips, asking for another. He always looks enraptured by the sight of you, of his fingers pumping in and out. His priority is always your pleasure, and the extra attention always makes you feel flushed with desire and love.

“Wait, can we - can we try something?” You ask timidly. He withdraws and searches your face for anything wrong.

“I -” I want your metal hand. You bite your lip because you can’t just say that. You know how Bucky feels about it.

“I love all of you, you know that right?” You start instead. His eyes are still worried, but shine at your words nonetheless. “And I think that you’re beautiful, every inch of you.” Your fingers lightly skim the scars on his shoulder that he no longer hides from you.

“Tell me what you need, angel. I’d do anything to make you feel good.”

“Buck, I - please don’t freak out,” you cling to his arms as though afraid he’d jump off the bed. “Can you… with your other hand?”

There’s a second of silence as Bucky’s eyebrows fly upward.

“… You…are you sure?”

“Yes!” You respond emphatically. Just to drive your point home, you pull yourself up to kiss him, trusting him to hold your weight up with just your arm around his neck. Bucky’s movements start hesitant but slowly thaw as you two pick up where you’d left off.

The titanium is cold against your skin, leaving goosebumps along your skin as he travels further down. He circles his thumb against your clit, and you gasp sharply, not expecting to feel the temperature difference.

“Really?” He looks surprised at your reaction, but you nod, unable to speak.

His fingers skirt around, tickling your thighs, rubbing just around the outside of your opening.

“Oh my god, Bucky,” you say breathlessly. His hands get braver, and then finally slips a finger in.

“Yes, yes, more,” you urge, your legs tensing against his torso. His eyes, which normally drink in your whole body, are focused solely on the sight of you opening up for him like this. The arm that he’d spent so long resenting, that he’d been taught to use as a weapon, was making you squirm with pleasure. He slips a second finger in and you grind against him, your body begging for him to go deeper.

He gets the third finger in and they’re thicker than you’re used to. It’s a delicious burn, you keep up a steady stream of praise, telling Bucky how good it feels. You’ll be damned if you can’t change Bucky’s mind about his arm.

It works, because he takes you apart with his fingers, and before you’re even done trembling, he dives between your legs for a taste. He looks absolutely filthy when he licks your juices off his fingers, and you come again as he laps up your juices. When he finally gets his cock in you, you can barely breathe. He holds you close, warm hand cradling your face, thumb sweeping against your cheek. You smile up at him, nuzzle and kiss his palm.

When you take his thumb in your mouth and suck, he comes with stuttering hips and your name on his lips.

It’s almost impossible to tear yourself away the next morning, especially when Bucky lazily ruts against you before your eyes are even open and your brain can only tell your body to push back against him.

He sucks in a sharp breath at your impatience before digging his fingers into your flesh to draw you closer. His breath ghosts across the back of your neck and you’re a goner for it, even though you’re still sore from last night. You’re delighted when he uses both his hands to cup your breasts as he eases himself in from behind.

You want to stay here forever.

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[whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk]

The Grand Tour - Chapter 4 (AO3)

(Cassian and Nesta are trapped inside by a snowstorm in the Winter Court, foiling Cassian's grand plans and forcing them to find other ways to pass the time)

Silence reigned, and there were so many things she wanted to say, too many— But everything eddied from her brain, everything but the one thing she needed more than anything, the one thing he had yet to give her.

“Cassian,” she said again. “Kiss me, you stupid bat.”

Cassian woke to a dream.

It was a dream to open his eyes and find Nesta beside him, to see the late morning sunlight drifting across her face. The warmth of the Dawn sun kissed his bare skin, and Cassian settled deeper into the pillows, wondering how long he could make this moment last. Forever. He wanted this to last forever.

He wondered if she even realised how much those seven little words - I don’t want to sleep alone anymore - had meant last night. How they had fractured and reformed his entire world, until all that was left was her. Until every thought eddied from his head, and all that was left was a ringing in his chest, a warmth that had burned and burned as he took her into his arms and closed his eyes.

Perfect. She was perfect. This was perfect.

Only once had Cassian woken that night. Nesta had murmured in her sleep, turning uneasily, and even whilst sleeping he’d known - somehow - that she needed him. He’d woken, wrapped his body around hers, and let his warmth seep into her. He hadn’t know what it was that haunted her, whether it was the war, or the Cauldron, or one of the traumas from her mortal life, the ones that she still hadn’t shared with him. All he could do was whisper to her that she was safe, and warm, and protected, a warrior watching over her whilst she slept. He’d held her tightly, until she relaxed into him and the crease between her brows smoothed. Although he’d lightened his grip on her, he hadn’t let go. He hadn’t let go once.

He needed her as much as she needed him, he supposed. He’d had his own dark dreams that night too— after Nesta’s terrors had subsided, he’d fallen back to sleep and been haunted by visions of broken Illyrian wings, his hands stained with blood, screams echoing in the mountains. A hundred pyres, a thousand, all of them filled with the bodies of soldiers he’d killed. He saw women and children mourning fathers and brothers, saw their grief driving them to their knees in snow stained crimson. He hadn’t woken, though, and distantly, he was aware of her, of how she curled into him, how her breathing helped steady his own. When he finally woke, the sun had been up for hours. His heart was beating like a war drum, but one look at Nesta, one glance at her face… his nightmare faded as quickly as hers had.

His chest was pressed against her back, his arm over her waist, their fingers separate but close to touching, as if they’d sought each other even in sleep. She stirred beneath him, but didn’t wake as Cassian rolled smoothly onto his back, spreading his weight so as to not crush his wings. He kept her tucked against his side, and began to consider how he might start waking her. A kiss to her temple, perhaps, or a series of soft touches, his fingers trailing down her shoulders and over her arms. Or maybe— 

Midnight talons brushed against the barriers of his mind.

Cassian stiffened, siphons flaring to life. Illyrian screams still echoed in his mind as he tore down his defences, heart thundering.

What is it? he demanded as he let Rhys in. What’s happened?

Rhys let out a soft chuckle. Calm down. Nothing’s wrong.

His siphons still flared, his heart still raced. Some of the tension eased out his muscles, but still, even as Cassian heard and recognised those words - nothing’s wrong - all he could see was the blood he’d dreamed of last night. He could still hear his sword singing as Illyrian blood stained its steel. 

Cass. It’s fine, Rhys insisted as he saw, too, what had haunted Cassian during the night. There was regret in his tone as he said, I just wanted to make sure you were alright.

A breath of relief eased out of Cassian as he huffed at his brother. Can you blame me for thinking the worst when you decide to check in this early in the morning?

It’s not that early, Rhys pointed out. You’ve usually been up for hours by now.

Cassian gave his brother a non-committal sound, and refused to think of how he’d slept for so long because, aside from that particularly nasty dream, Nesta’s warmth and presence had soothed a jagged edge inside him, one that had never really let him rest. Instead, he grimaced as he thought of the situation in Illyria again. Still nothing? he asked.

Nothing, Rhys replied grimly. Az has a couple more leads, but the rebels are covering their tracks well. All we can do is wait.

It could be months yet, Cassian thought bitterly. Rhys hummed.

It could, he answered. 

Cassian sighed again, and Nesta stirred in his arms, as if she could sense his unease.

I only came to check you were both alright, Rhys said. I’m sorry if I worried you.

Cassian knew his brother like the back of his hand, and when Rhys paused, he could sense the mischief coming from him in waves. He could practically feel the sly grin on Rhys’ face at the other end of that bond, and Cassian knew that whatever his High Lord was about to say, he’d probably want to punch him once he heard it.

I had a meeting with Helion the other day, Rhys began lightly, his words sparkling with bemusement. He had some…interesting things to say.

Cassian rolled his eyes. I bet he did. Fucking busybody.

Rhys hummed. Nesta’s well? he asked, and the tone of his voice told Cassian all he needed to know about what Helion had said, what he’d showed Rhys. The memory of dancing with Nesta in an empty ballroom, without music, so completely lost in her that he’d not noticed as Helion’s court retired around them brought a soft smile to his lips, and from the complete lack of surprise on Rhys’ end of the bond, it was something he’d seen before. Cassian made a mental note to tell the High Lord of Day to mind his own bloody business next time. 

Yes, Cassian answered mildly. We’re going to Winter today.

Be careful, Cass, Rhys said softly, all trace of teasing gone. Some of the fae in Winter still don’t trust us. They remember those twenty dead children.

There was grief in his brother’s voice— grief and regret that he couldn’t prevent those deaths. Cassian stilled, wrapping an arm tighter around Nesta’s waist instinctively. We all remember those children, he answered. Rhys’ silence was heavy with pain and guilt, and it was a long while before he spoke again.

Just be careful, he said at last. 

Always, Cassian promised.

He felt Rhys nod, and when silence fell once more, he assumed that was it. Assumed Rhys was gone and was about to carry on thinking up inventive ways of waking Nesta, when he felt his brother smirk down the mental channel between them, pushing back open the door that Cassian had started to close.

Oh and Cass?

Yes?

Am I telling Feyre that you and her sister share a bed now, or is that something you’re trying to keep secret?

Cassian mentally raised a middle finger, and Rhys’ answering laugh echoed inside his mind. 

Give Nesta my regards, he said with another midnight smirk. And my condolences, he added. I remember sharing a tent with you when we were boys, and you were a terrible bedmate. Always stole the duvet.

Cassian breathed a laugh. When I get home I’ll see you in the sparring ring, and then we’ll see how much you’ve got to say.

I don’t think so, Rhys answered. I fear what Nesta will do to me if I bruise that pretty face of yours.

Cassian snorted, and this time Nesta’s eyelids fluttered. She sighed in her sleep and turned, as if she were close to waking. Cassian went back to Rhys. I think you should get back to that mate of yours now, he suggested.

Rhys let out a wicked laugh. You’re right, he said with a sly, mischievous kind of shrug. I’ll let you get back to yours, too.

The door inside Cassian’s mind slammed as Rhys left, leaving Cassian all but banging his fists on it, a breathless, incredulous laugh stuck in his throat. None of them had ever acknowledged that Nesta was his mate before, and hearing Rhys say it— especially hearing him say it whilst Nesta slept in his arms… Mother above, that made it all feel suddenly, knee-tremblingly real, and Cassian had to grip her tighter just to convince himself he wasn’t dreaming.

Not that he planned on telling her yet. Not until he was certain it was something she was comfortable with. Not until the day he could look into her eyes and know that a mating bond wasn’t something that horrified her, wasn’t something that trapped her here. With the way she’d looked yesterday, he was starting to think that day might come sooner than he’d ever expected, but he refused to let the hope that blossomed in his chest find purchase. Not yet, he thought. Not yet.

Something deep within him became more aware of her breathing, and he felt, rather than saw, her wake. When he looked down, he saw her eyes were open, but glazed, as if she were still shaking off her slumber. Fucking adorable.

“Morning,” he said, letting his fingers drum lightly on her waist. 

She mumbled something that sounded vaguely like morning, but it was muffled as she turned her head into his chest. He felt her lips brush against his skin— he hadn’t bothered sleeping in a shirt, and Nesta certainly hadn’t seemed to mind. He’d watched her study him last night, watched her gaze track across his shoulders, his arms, his chest, right down to the waistband of the loose pants he’d pulled on. Everywhere her eyes lingered, his skin burned. He hadn’t paused as he’d crossed the floor to her bed, and when he slipped under the covers beside her, when he felt the warmth of her against him… it was an effort to keep a clear head. He thought he’d wanted her before, but this went beyond just wanting. This went beyond everything Cassian had ever known, a need so deep, so visceral, that he could hardly breathe. 

He raised a hand to stroke the back of her head, pressing her more firmly against him, and breathing deeply at how right it felt to be here with her, like this. The siphon on his hand glowed softly, pulsing just once. He had always taken that to mean, everything is fine. Everything is as it should be. With Nesta’s waist beneath his other arm, her cheek pressed against his heart, and his fingers in her hair, Cassian sighed softly. Yes, he thought to himself. Everything is as it should be.

***

She was trying to kill him.

There couldn’t be any other explanation, because although he’d told her as they finally rose from that bed to wear something warm today… he hadn’t expected this. This was going to thoroughly fucking destroy him, and from the small smirk tugging up the corners of the mouth he was desperate to kiss, from the tentative gleam in those blue-grey eyes, she fucking knew it, too.

Nesta… Nesta was wearing Illyrian leathers.

She smelled of the lavender soap the inn provided, and had braided her hair meticulously, so not a single strand was out of place. There was colour back in her cheeks at last, and with that gleam in her eyes— one that had been missing for so, so long… she was as beautiful as Cassian had ever seen her, but it was the leathers that knocked the breath right out of his lungs.

He hadn’t ever expected to see her in them again after the war. He’d even forgotten that he’d told her to pack them, that he’d rolled them up into her bag himself. He’d never expected her to so much as touch them, and even though she’d not protested when he packed them, she certainly hadn’t seemed inclined to ever put them on again. She was toying with him, little more than a cat with a mouse, and Cassian had never, never, been the mouse in a situation like this before. He was utterly at her mercy.

He dragged his gaze over her— over her hips, her waist, her calves. She was divine, everything he had ever wanted, ever dreamed of, standing right there in front of him. He was so busy trying to find a rational, sensible thought that he didn’t realise until far too late that those leathers were slightly looser than they had been the last time he’d seen her in them. She’d lost weight. Nothing too drastic— not enough for him to seriously worry, but still, it didn’t sit right with him when he realised it. She was still hurting, still battling her own demons, and it killed him that he couldn’t just fix it all for her. He could take her away from her troubles and he could show her a thousand wonders of the world, but in the end, he couldn’t click his fingers and take away her pain.

Nesta blinked flatly when she saw him rake his eyes over every inch of her, raised an eyebrow when she saw him frown, saw the concern flare in his eyes. She placed her hands on her hips, all fire and ferocity, and met his gaze, utterly fearless.

“Something wrong?” she asked archly. He almost hissed at the tone, at her smirk, at how she’d so blatantly worn those leathers to rile him. Torment him. 

“Not at all,” he replied with a saccharine smile, bitterly sweet. He kept his gaze on her face, because if he looked any lower— he didn’t think he’d be able to stop himself from kissing her this time, and if he kissed her now, they’d never make it to Winter. So instead, he held out his hand. When her fingers slipped between his own, every muscle, every bone, within him tightened. His siphons flared once, just as they had that morning, and she looked at it curiously, as if she were going to ask what it meant. He tightened his fingers around hers and only said, “Let’s go.”

***

It took almost all day to fly from Dawn to Winter, and Nesta barely said a word whilst they were in the sky. It was cold, even with the leathers. She’d only worn them to taunt Cassian, but as she felt the bite of the wind against her cheeks, she was grateful for them. She couldn’t bear the thought of how freezing she’d have been had she chosen the blue dress and heavy cloak she was going to wear instead. The wind would have torn the cloak right open. 

They had been flying what felt like forever when she felt Cassian tense, felt his hands grip her even tighter. His siphons glared, too, and when she looked up at him, he was scanning the horizon, far more alert than he’d been all morning. She hadn’t seen him like this since— since the war. He glanced down, and when he brought his gaze back up, there was something unreadable there, something dangerous and chilling. She looked down, seeing a lake that was as black as the night sky, smooth as a mirror. Cassian flew faster, as if whatever it was down there, he didn’t want to be above it for long.

“What is it?” she asked. His hands gripped her more firmly, pulling her closer to his chest. “What’s down there?”

“The Middle,” he answered tightly. “It’s not— it’s not a place anyone likes go near.”

She could have sworn he shivered. She made to look down again, but he shook his head. She knew that if he’d had a hand free, he’d have pulled her chin up himself.

“Don’t,” he breathed into her ear. “Don’t look down. Every horror story you were told as a human, every monster you were ever afraid of… they live in the Middle.”

A chill went through her that had nothing to do with the cold. The dark, slumbering power inside her, the one she’d torn from the Cauldron with her bare hands, seemed to crack an eye open in the darkness, as if recognising something, as if waiting for something. That tendril of power within her seemed… alert somehow, and it made her blood turn to ice. It unsettled her, being above this place. She shivered, and Cassian’s arms wound around her even tighter still. 

“It’s alright,” he said. “We’re almost at the end of it.”

“Feyre went in there?” she asked, slightly breathless. Even so many hundreds of feet above the ground… she could feel it. She didn’t know what it was, whether it was unique to her or not, but she could feel something down there, a darkness, oppressive and heavy, a weight against all of her senses. Cassian nodded grimly.

“Some parts are worse than others, but still.” He looked down at her again. “I don’t think I’d sleep at night if I thought about you having to go in there.”

She shivered again, but this time, it wasn’t just from the horror below, or from the cold. No, this time it was from the tenderness in his eyes, the earnest look on his face as he looked at her like— like she was his entire world.

She said nothing, and soon enough, the sinking feeling in her stomach disappeared. At the same moment, Cassian relaxed, and she knew the danger had passed.

“We’re over the border,” he said into her ear. “Welcome to the Winter Court.”

***

It wasn’t like Nesta hadn’t expected Winter to be cold.

She’d expected snow and ice and freezing wind— but hadn’t anticipated being greeted by a veritable fucking blizzard, one that came with a wind so strong her hair had been ripped from its braid, and a cold front so savage she was certain a sheet of ice had formed on her skin. Even with her face tucked tightly against Cassian’s chest, the wind had ravaged her. Even with the shield his siphon conjured, the worst of the cold and the hail and the wind still made it through. It was bitter and brutal, and when Cassian finally landed and pulled her under the porch of an almost palatial chalet, Nesta couldn’t help but tremble with relief. 

“For what it’s worth,” Cassian said bitterly as he looked up at the sky, “I had something really, really worthwhile planned for tonight.”

She followed his gaze, to the clouds above that were thick and heavy, promising yet hours and hours of snowfall. Before her there was nothing but an expanse of grey and white, the horizon invisible as the land blended seamlessly into the sky. The snow was falling in thick flakes, larger than Nesta had ever seen before. There was so much of it that even with her fae eyesight, she could hardly see more than a few feet ahead.

Nesta had always hated being cold, but there was a kind of innate beauty in the snow that she had always respected, a kind of peace she had always enjoyed. She liked the way it muffled the world, liked the way it dulled everything at the edges. In that godforsaken cabin in the woods, the only days she ever felt so much as an ember of peace were the mornings when she’d look out of the thin glass window and see perfect, unmarred white— covering the mud, the dirt path leading to their door. Masking the poverty and the desperation with a glistening, shining, sheet of purest white. Like a blank canvas.

She wrapped her arms around herself as Cassian reached into a small wooden box nailed to the wall by the door, and pulled out an iron key.

“And that’s off the cards now?” she asked. “Whatever it was you had planned.”

He huffed. “Since it relied on the sky being clear, then yes.” He grimaced, glaring up at those clouds once again. His siphons winked, as if hoping to alter the weather with nothing but his own brute power.

“Huh,” Nesta said, fighting a shiver as he unlocked the door at last. The way he stared down the sky made her want to laugh, and that frown... She couldn’t help but want to tease him. “So you’re supposed  to be showing me the Winter Court and all I’m getting is the inside of this chalet?”

Cassian scowled. “Pretty much.”

Nesta shrugged and made to step inside, into the glorious warmth she could feel already, but he blocked her with an arm across the doorway. “Looks like you’re stuck with me, princess.”

“I’ve been stuck with you since the day I met you, you ridiculous beast.” Nesta folded her arms firmly over her chest, as much for warmth as it was her being stubborn. Cassian smirked.

“That’s true,” he shrugged, still refusing to let her pass. The snow began to fall even harder - something Nesta hadn’t thought was possible - and when she glanced over her shoulder, she saw it completely engulf the landscape before the chalet. “I don’t think there’s been a single day since where I’ve been free of the thought of you,” he muttered, and though Nesta could hear the teasing in his tone, could see the glimmer in his eyes, she caught the honesty running beneath, caught the things he didn’t voice.

Her breath caught in her throat, and even though she was bloody freezing, even though darkness was falling swiftly and the light of the chalet looked so magnificently welcoming… she couldn’t stop herself as she reached out and laid a hand against his cheek. She brushed off the snow and the ice that lingered there, watching as he blinked slowly the second her skin whispered against his. 

“Your hands are cold,” he breathed, little more than a whisper. “We should get you some gloves.”

He rested one hand atop hers, letting the warmth from him - from the siphon that was glowing brightly - seep into her. She couldn’t remember what words were, not as she looked into his eyes and noticed - really noticed - just how beautiful they were, like hazel caught in amber. She scanned that beautiful, proud face, and Cassian leaned towards her just slightly— so slightly. She was almost flush against his chest, could feel it rising and falling far faster than it should. She wondered if his heart was hammering as quickly as her own, if his pulse was thundering through his veins, too. 

It was an effort to keep her eyes open, to stop them from fluttering closed. He moved, his lips inches from hers, and her hand fell away from his cheek to rest instead on his heart. She could feel it— even over his leathers, she could feel it beating, and yes, it was pounding, a direct echo of hers, as if even their heartbeats were attuned, synchronised. It was so much like how they’d been outside the inn in Dawn, when she’d thought he was going to kiss her, but only this time, he wasn’t doing it to tease her, or to get a reaction. No— this time, this time it was real, so Nesta tilted her face up as he closed the distance between them. 

She hadn’t kissed him properly since the war, since that final battle, and when she searched for a reason why, she came up blank.

She didn’t know why they’d spent months dancing around it, ignoring the confessions they’d both made that day. Distantly, she knew it was because she hadn’t been ready then. It had utterly terrified her, and Cassian knew it, wanted to give her the space she needed to figure it out… but now, with him so close, with his lips hovering above hers, she couldn’t think of any logical reason why she hadn’t been kissing him this entire time.

His lips touched hers in the briefest kiss, the most achingly light touch, little more than a ghost of a kiss— one that made her shiver and ache and crave every last inch of him. But barely a heartbeat later, Cassian was pulling away, as if he’d misread her shiver, thought it was a result of the cold and not the heartbreakingly gentle way he’d just kissed her. He pulled away, and Nesta was left reeling.

“You’re freezing,” he said softly. “Let’s get you inside.”

***

Nesta could think of no better place to be stuck inside by a snowstorm than Kallias and Viviane’s chalet. It was one of several that the High Lord and his wife owned— and, Cassian informed her, rarely used these days. The floor-to-ceiling windows in almost every room offered an unbroken view of the world outside, and Nesta watched the storm rage. Watched the snow be carried about on a furious wind, watched it settle and begin to climb up those windows, until it was lying inches thick on the ground. Cassian had told her to pick a bedroom, and she’d chosen one at the back of the chalet, with a plush blue carpet and pinewood furnishings, and the biggest bed in the entire place. Cassian hadn’t complained, but she’d noticed that the tips of his wings had hung off the edge of the mattress in that Dawn Court inn, and whilst he certainly hadn’t seemed uncomfortable… she’d still picked the largest bed after thoroughly inspecting all six bedrooms. All of them had a bathroom attached too, most with showers, but this one— this was had a walk-in shower large enough that Nesta suspected it might well double as a sauna. Wooden benches sat either side of the tiled shower, the spout in the centre of the ceiling directly above. 

She’d never had a shower like it. If there was anything that was going to make her change her mind about being fae, then that shower was a good place to start. She had the water scalding, to melt the chill from her bones, and she suspected some Dawn Court involvement in the way the water fell from that ceiling, massaging the knots in her back and soothing the ache in her shoulders. It took a long, long time standing under that stream before she could feel the tips of her fingers again, and she breathed a sigh of contentment as she let the water drip down her face, breathing in the steam. 

There was only one thing on her mind the entire time. All she could think about was that kiss. As she dressed in a pair of soft leggings and an oversized cotton shirt, still all she could think of was him, the way he’d kissed her as though she were the most precious thing in the world. As she dragged a brush through her wet hair, all she could think of was how she’d wanted to melt into him, how she’d wanted to haul him back to her after he’d pulled away. With every step she took as she headed for the large open living room, all she thought of was how it had been over before it really began and now, with every breath she took, all she wanted was to kiss him again. To kiss him properly.

She felt like she was losing her mind, completely and utterly overtaken by the thought of his lips against hers.

None of that disappeared when she rounded the corner and stepped into the lofty open space that served as living room, dining room, and kitchen. Cassian had taken a shower himself and had changed into a pair of loose pants, cuffed at the ankles, and a white shirt that clung to his every muscle as he moved. His hair had been pulled back into his usual bun, but it was damp, curling about his face and ears. He really was beautiful, Nesta thought as she crossed the white-carpeted floor to the black marble island that served as a barrier between the living space and the kitchen. Cassian was humming, opening cupboards and drawers, apparently looking for something.

“Do you need help?” Nesta asked dryly. Cassian turned to her and grinned, holding up two copper mugs.

“I’m making mulled wine,” he grinned. “You know, to take the chill off.”

Nesta was about to point out that there wasn’t really a chill to take off anymore, but she said nothing, only let him busy himself by the wine rack, plucking up various bottles before deciding on one suitable enough. It didn’t surprise her for a moment that he picked the oldest looking bottle, one with a thick wax seal around its neck.

“Should you really open that?” she asked, but he only scoffed, turning to the drawers to find a corkscrew.

“Why not?”

“Because it looks old, and therefore expensive?”

“If the High Lord of Winter takes issue with me raiding his wine rack, then I’ll happily reimburse him.” He shrugged. “Besides, if he didn’t want them to be drunk, then he shouldn’t have left them here in the first place.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“And proud of it,” Cassian winked, letting out a soft a-ha when his search for a corkscrew became fruitful. “Go and sit,” he said, waving her towards the large white sofa that stretched across more than half of the living room.

It was ridiculous how comfortable this felt. How it felt so natural to be in such a… soft space with Cassian, with him herding her into the living room whilst he bustled about the kitchen. Nesta did as she was told and headed for the large white sofa, delighted already at the thought of sinking down into its cushions. Her bare feet sank into the carpeted floor as she walked and— strode right past a hearth so large Nesta wondered how she’d missed it before. There wasn’t a flicker or an ember in sight.

“Underfloor heating,” Cassian called from the kitchen, as if he could tell already what she was thinking. A second later he strode around that island, a mug in each hand, and caught up to her, nudging her with his shoulder as he pressed one of those mugs into her hand. “Keeps it warm without really needing a fire. There’s a hot spring nearby that runs under this entire place and warms it.”

“That’s—“ she said, breath catching, relief so potent it made her head spin crashing through her veins. She had been dreading Winter. She’d not told him, but it had been eating at her, the worry over whether she’d have to either shiver the entire time, or endure the sound of logs crackling, tearing her apart with each snap. “Good,” she breathed at last. 

“When Viviane asked if we would be alright in a chalet, I asked if there were any that could be heated without a traditional fire,” he said quietly. 

Nesta felt the earth tilt beneath her feet. No, she hadn’t told Cassian that she’d been dreading Winter— but he’d known anyway. She’d already noticed that everywhere they’d stayed so far had been fitted with showers. Their rooms in Helion’s palace, the bedroom at the inn. She hadn’t thought it was coincidence, but the heating here— knowing that Cassian had been specifically requesting the things she needed all along…  She’d have been lost without him, she realised. Ever since the war, she would have been utterly, utterly lost.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

Cassian only shrugged, as if it were nothing. Instead of sitting on that beautifully plush sofa, he sat down before the low wooden coffee table that lay between the sofa and that great hearth. He let his wings spread out behind him and stretch along the carpeted floor, leaning back on his palms and shooting Nesta a look that said, well? Aren’t you going to sit down?

She blinked, and instead of lowering herself onto those white cushions, she sank to her knees at the other side of that coffee table, putting her wine gently down on the waiting coaster.

“Since we’re stuck here all night with nothing to do…” Cassian said with a grin, “What games do you know?”

“Games?” Nesta repeated, blinking in surprise.

“Yes,” Cassian said, rolling his eyes at the no doubt dumbfounded expression on her face. “Games. You know. Fun things people do to pass the time. You have heard of them, yes?”

“Of course I have,” she answered stiffly. “I don’t know any.”

“None?”

“None.”

Cassian raised his eyebrows and Nesta huffed. “You forget that whilst Elain and Feyre were allowed outside to play, I was inside, being turned into a miniature version of my mother. I never really played games.”

She could have sworn he winced. She’d never really gone into any of that with him before. He knew all about the horrors from the war, everything that haunted her after she’d gone inside that Cauldron. But she’d never told him much about what had happened before— never delved too deeply into those wounds, ones that still hadn’t healed. He offered her a small, almost apologetic, smile.

“Not even cards?” he asked, nodding to a set of cards that sat in the middle of the table, right next to an ornate cigar box. 

“Proper ladies aren’t taught cards,” Nesta shrugged. She remembered her mother’s lectures on such things. The way Mama had saw it, all card games were a form of gambling, and all gambling was utterly forbidden for such a proper young lady. Perhaps her mother should have spent just as much time and energy telling their father the same thing— maybe they wouldn’t have lost all their money if he’d been subject to so many speeches on taking stupid risks. Guilt coursed through Nesta at the thought. Her father had been a fool on so many occasions— but he’d still sailed into battle, to his death, on a ship bearing her name.

Cassian snorted, pulling her back from the brink of her guilt and her grief. “Do only the men play cards in the human realms?”

It was said sarcastically. Mockingly. Cassian didn’t realise that he was right.

“Yes,” Nesta said mildly. She thought back to everything her mother had ever taught her, every ball she’d ever been to, every formal dinner. “The men usually retire after dinner to smoke and drink and gamble. The women wait for them in the sitting room.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said, reaching for the cards in their silver box. Nesta hummed her agreement. She’d never really understood the rules that governed the wealthy. Never understood why she couldn’t step into that room with her father, had to wait outside with her mother and the other ladies. It had never made sense that she had to be asked to dance before she could step foot on a dance floor. She’d followed such rules blindly, in the belief that - as senseless as they seemed - they made her civilised. Made her refined.

Only now did she realise that all they’d ever done was restrict her. 

It had taken living above the wall to figure it out. It had taken watching Hellion’s courtiers dance with whoever they wanted, whenever they wanted. It had taken watching the fae of the Dawn Court find joy in the smallest of things. It had taken Cassian asking her to play a game and realising she didn’t know how to. It was a sense of liberation that she hadn’t experienced once below the wall. Not once.

“How about I teach you?” Cassian suggested, drinking deeply from his wine. He slid the cards from their box edged with silver and began dealing them into two piles. He looked up at her and winked. “I might even let you win a round or two.”

***

He lost four games in a row.

The way to win, he’d explained, was to lie. The aim was to get rid of all of your cards by placing two in the middle at each turn, passing them off as a matching pair whether it was true or not. If you were caught in a lie, you took the entire pile. If you were telling the truth, then whoever accused you of lying took the cards. It was simple enough, since Nesta had been lying all of her life. To others, to herself, she’d become quite adept at it. She knew how to curve her lips to make Cassian suspect she was lying, knew how to make her face utterly blank when she put down a queen and a four of spades and claimed they were both hearts. 

Cassian though, was the single most honest and decent person Nesta had ever met. He wouldn’t look her in the eye when he tried to trick her, and Nesta called him on it every single time, without fail.

“And you said I was a terrible liar,” Nesta said smugly, throwing down her last two cards and claiming her fifth victory. Cassian still had half the deck in his hands, throwing them down onto the table with a glare. He said nothing as he reached for the wine bottle, refilling both of their copper mugs and using his siphons to heat them.

“I thought you said you were good at this game,” Nesta commented archly, smirking at he scowled.

“Usually I am,” he insisted. “I’ve beaten Rhys at this a thousand times, even though he looks in my mind and cheats.” He shook his head and shot her a glare. “It’s not my fault I can’t lie to you.”

Nesta shrugged. “Sounds like that’s exactly what it is.”

“Alright then smartarse,” he said flatly. “New game.”

Nesta raised an eyebrow with a smug little smirk as she began to reshuffle the cards.

“Question for a question.”

“That’s not a game,” she pointed out. “That’s just you being nosy.”

Cassian shrugged, the faelight glancing off his cheekbones as he grinned at her, stopping her heart dead in her chest. Azriel might have been the most conventionally attractive of the three, but it was Cassian who made her heart race. Whose eyes and cheekbones and jawline had her feeling lightheaded. That insufferable grin widened.

“Semantics.”

“You’re just afraid of losing again,” Nesta answered tartly, pulse racing as Cassian raised an eyebrow at her and blinked. His lips twisted into a daring smirk, eyes darkening.

“What’s up Nes?” he asked, tilting his head as if it were challenge. “Afraid of what I’ll ask?” 

The smirk fell from her face at that. She straightened, pushing the cards away from her as Cassian’s eyes danced. There was no way she’d back down from a challenge like that, and the bastard knew it. His grin turned insufferable as she scowled, refusing to back down.

“Ask away then.”

He let out a breath of approval, and tapped his fingers on his chin, considering. After a minute he said, “You’ve really never played cards?”

Nesta scoffed. “That’s your first question?”

He hummed as he nodded. She shook her head and said, “No,” and even though she knew the game didn’t require an explanation, even though she knew he didn’t expect one, she felt compelled to give it anyway. “There were times in that cabin where we might have, just to fill the time and stop thinking about how destitute we were. To stop worrying for five minutes about if we’d survive the winter. But we could never have afforded a deck.”

Understanding simmered in his eyes, and something between them went taut as he hummed. “I used to plan great battles in my head,” he said softly. “When I was a boy, living in a half-torn tent on the slopes of a mountain. On the nights it was too cold to sleep, I’d huddle in the thin blankets I’d managed to find and pretend I was somewhere else. Pretend to be some great general-“ a wry smile crossed his face, “-commanding legions. I’d think of how I’d move them, how I’d cross the terrain if I were on foot. How I’d fly if it was an aerial battalion. I’d plan it all right down to the smallest detail just to pass the time. To get my mind off the cold.”

“Cassian,” Nesta breathed, heart breaking for the boy he’d been, lost in the snow. So similar. They had been so similar, but back then she would never - never - have expected to find solace in a fae warrior who also knew what it was to starve. Also knew what it was to cower in the cold.

Cassian shook his head. “Worked out though, didn’t it?” Another wry smile. “Maybe that’s why I’m so good at leading armies.”

“It’s horrible,” she countered, reaching a hand across that small table and resting it on his, right on top of the siphons he’d fought so hard to earn. It pulsed beneath her, and not for the first time, she longed to know what it meant.

“Your turn,” he said softly, and Nesta glanced at the siphon under her fingers.

“What does it mean?” she asked. “When it glows like that?”

Cassian turned his hand beneath her palm until his fingers weaved between hers. He shrugged. “It can mean a lot of things. When it flares, it generally means there’s either danger somewhere, or that they anticipate being used soon. When they glow slowly, like that, I usually take it to mean that everything is calm. That—“ he paused, glimpsing at how their fingers were interlaced. “That everything is as it should be,” he added quietly.

“They’re an extension of you, then?” Nesta asked, and he nodded.

“As much a part of me as anything else.”

Nesta took her hand from his and let her fingers roam the leather housing that ruby stone. Again, it pulsed once, slowly. Everything is as it should be, he’d said. As if her fingers tracing a path over the worn leather was what these stones had been waiting for, all these years. As if she was always meant to be here, always meant to find him. She could have sworn she felt his pulse stutter in his veins, as if he were thinking the exact same thing.

His other hand reached out and gripped hers, and when she met his gaze, she saw a tentative, almost nervous, look in his eyes.

“There’s one thing I’ve wanted to ask for a long time Nes,” he said, so quietly it was almost a whisper. She watched his throat bob, watched his chest rise. “Something you can tell me to piss off for, if you want. Something you’d be fully justified in hitting me for if you felt like it.”

Her blood ran cold, but she said nothing as he swallowed. “What happened in that Cauldron?” he breathed. “How long were you in there?”

His question hung in the air unanswered for a long, torturous moment. Nesta took in a shaky breath, and the excuses were already on her tongue— her walls already rising. She almost feigned tiredness and went to bed to avoid the question, but his siphons pulsed in that slow, steady way again, and it gave her strength. She didn’t know how, didn’t know why, but somehow, it fortified her.

“It was… cold,” she began, her voice hoarse. “Like ice, spearing into me over and over. In my nose and in my throat, in my eyes and ears, I could feel it in every pore. It was the kind of cold that burns, searing every single inch of me, every piece it could reach. And then it worked it’s way inside, and it felt like it broke every bone, snapped every muscle, stole the breath from my lungs and forced its way in there, too.” She paused. “It felt like I was in there for hours.”

“It was seconds,” he murmured, his voice just as broken as hers. “Seconds, and I used every single one of them trying to get to you.”

“I know,” she whispered. She still remembered the sight of him— broken, bruised, and bloody, crawling over that stone floor. She’d hated him for it afterwards. In the aftermath of it all, she’d hated him. Never because of anything he’d done, she realised, but because it hurt too much to feel anything but hatred, and to feel any kind of warmth for him would only be to acknowledge that the changes wrought upon her - forced upon her - were real.

His heart was breaking, she could see it in his eyes. The pain, the regret, the guilt that he hadn’t made it, hadn’t been able to save her. Nesta couldn’t bear it. She shook her head.

“It’s not like I’m a stranger to things happening to me against my will,” she shrugged. She meant for it to come out airy, to make light of the trauma and despair of it all, but there was too much bitterness, and Cassian’s eyes turned hard, turned furious.

“You never told me,” he said quietly. His voice was soft, but there was a current of pure fury there, one that promised violence. “What he did to you.”

“Is that your next question?” Nesta asked wryly. 

“Yes,” he shrugged, eyes flat.

That night before the Cauldron, when he’d been trapped in their manor by a storm - the first time they’d kissed - he had gathered that someone had touched her before. He’d sworn to kill Tomas then and there, and Nesta had only asked him to make her forget, to make it all go away. She’d never given him the full story, never given him anything more than what he’d already guessed. Not a single other soul save Tomas knew what had happened in that barn.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I want a list of every hurt he inflicted. Every single one, and one day, I’ll pay him back for it tenfold. I want his life ended by my hand, and I want to know what he did to you— what he took from you, so I know exactly how painful I need to make it. Exactly how much he has to suffer.” His voice was colder than Nesta had ever heard it, wrathful in a way that might have made her tremble if it was directed at her. That voice promised retribution, and his siphons weren’t glowing now, but pulsing. 

“He didn’t— take anything from me,” she said quietly. “I didn’t give him chance to.”

“But he tried?”

“Yes, he tried. Tore my dress, held me against a wall. Called me a spiteful whore. Bruised my arm.” She paused as Cassian’s eyes darkened. “I bit his ear so hard I think he has half an earlobe missing now. I pushed him off and ran.”

A grim kind of smile settled on Cassian’s face, one of approval. “Good.” He paused and then lifted his gaze to hers. “You refused me once before, but the offer still stands. I’ll teach you to protect yourself if you’ll let me.”

“If memory serves I didn’t just refuse that offer once,” she said witheringly. He shot her a grin and leaned across to poke her in the ribs.

“True. You refused me so many times my poor heart shattered.”

Nesta’s face fell. Cassian realised that he might have been a shade too honest, and shook his head hurriedly. “When we’re back in Velaris, if you want me to teach you, then I’m all yours.”

She nodded mutely, but her attention was still too focused on what he’d just said. Just admitted.

“You still didn’t falter, did you. I refused you so many times and yet, during the war, when I asked you to come with me to face the king, you didn’t hesitate.”

Cassian shrugged. “Not for a second.”

“Why?” she managed. She’d never - never - had anyone care for her that way, the kind of love that left you desperate and reeling. 

“You were going to die, Nesta. I knew that. There was only a fool’s hope of any other outcome, and I knew I couldn’t talk you out of it. So my only option was to die right alongside you. To die first, and maybe give you the shot you needed.”

“You’d give up your life for mine that easily.”

He laughed, the sound low and rasping. “Sweetheart, I’d give up my life for yours much, much more easily than that.”

“Don’t say that,” she breathed. The thought of it— all she could see was him broken, bones shattered and so much blood— All she thought of was how he’d almost died, how she’d tried to save him.

Cassian pulled one knee up and rested his elbow atop it. He studied her carefully. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said at last. Nesta swallowed in response, the image his blood, his dying breaths, still too potent in her mind for her to form words.

“You nearly died for me too that day,” he said quietly, dragging a finger round the rim of his mug. 

In all the time since, this was the one thing they’d never broached. Never mentioned how she’d been so determined to die instead of live in a world without him in it.

“It seemed only fair,” she said lightly, deflecting. “You’d almost given your life first, after all. I wasn’t about to be outdone by a great overgrown bat.”

His eyes sparkled, but when he said, “Liar,” it came out gentle, heavy with meaning.

“What do you want me to say?”  Nesta asked, pinning him with her stare.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. That it meant something.”

“You think I’d have lay down and died for nothing?”

“No,” he acceded. “But it’s never exactly been clear what this is, Nes. Never exactly been clear what we are to each other.”

Nesta’s breath left her lungs in one exhale, his words landing like a physical blow. This was the one thing they’d successfully avoided like the plague, and even now, Nesta wasn’t convinced she could face it, couldn’t answer that question. But when she looked at him, when her heart thumped in her chest at just the sight of him… she wasn’t so afraid anymore. Wasn’t so terrified of loving him, even if she wasn’t quite ready to admit it out loud just yet.

“What is it you want from me Nesta?” Cassian pressed, his voice quiet, eyes pleading. Nesta placed her wine on the table and took a deep breath, watching as his siphons pulsed. 

Everything is as it should be.

She flicked her gaze to them, to that soft red glow, and then back to man they belonged to. The one person in this entire world that made her feel like she was home, no matter where she was.

“You,” she whispered at last. “I want you.” 

He was silent, so still that Nesta didn’t think he was breathing. 

“Cassian,” she whispered, his name feeling so perfectly right on her lips. He blinked, dragging his eyes up to hers, and she saw his answer there, too. That all he wanted was her, all he’d ever wanted was her. Nesta’s heart thundered in her chest as she waited for him to say something, to do something, but he only looked at her like she was the beginning and the end of everything, the answer to all the questions he’d ever asked in his long, long life. 

Silence reigned, and there were so many things she wanted to say, too many— But everything eddied from her brain, everything but the one thing she needed more than anything, the one thing he had yet to give her.

“Cassian,” she said again. “Kiss me, you stupid bat.”

The breath huffed out of him in something akin to a laugh, and then he was moving, pushing the table aside and coming closer, until their knees touched. He cradled her face between his palms, looking down at her with nothing but reverence in his eyes.

He waited for just one heartbeat before closing his lips over hers, the way she’d wanted him to do before. The way she’d been wanting him to for a long, long time— ever since that godforsaken battle. He was gentle, and soft, his lips meeting hers slowly, as if he were cherishing every single moment, as if he wanted it to last forever. His hands moved from her face, tracking a path down her neck, tracing her collarbone, until one wound itself in her hair, and the other rested on the floor by her hip. He braced his weight on that hand, pressing her closer to him with the other, deepening the kiss until Nesta was almost dizzy.

Her hands slipped through his silken hair, traced the curve of his rounded ear. She felt him shudder, and it wasn’t enough— he kissed her slowly, too slowly.

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him even further against her, and when that still didn’t break his restraint, she took his lip between her teeth and bit down. He hissed, and when he pulled away, panting, his eyes were frantic.

“Nes,” he breathed. She swallowed, and didn’t move away from him. There was a glint in his eyes as she smirked, an ember there that burst into flame. He reached for her again, pulling her into his lap, and when he kissed her next, it wasn’t slow, and it wasn’t gentle. His hands gripped her waist so tightly she wondered if she’d have bruises, and when she ran her fingers up his neck and tugged on his hair, she felt him smile against her.

“Witch,” he murmured, pulling his lips away from hers and kissing down her jaw, her neck, her shoulder. She shivered at his touch, and it only urged him on. He nipped at her collarbone the way she’d bitten his lip, and he looked up at her from underneath his eyelashes as he did so. She understood the words he didn’t say. Payback.

“Bastard,” she muttered as his hands roamed her waist.

“You need to tell me,” he murmured into her shoulder, “how far you want this to go.”

“Tonight, or in general?” she breathed, weaving her fingers through his hair. She felt him hesitate, and when he raised his head to look at her, there was nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

“Both,” he shrugged. “I meant tonight, but in general, too.”

Nesta nodded and let her hand drop from his hair. “Not— not much more than this. Not tonight,” she said quietly.

“How much more?” he asked, and though there was a wicked gleam in his eye, one that made her insides molten, there was a serious one, too. One that said he wanted to know her boundaries, so he could be sure not to cross them.

“How about I tell you when to stop?” she suggested, and Cassian let out a soft laugh as he nodded, pressing a kiss to her jaw. 

“Alright.” He paused a moment, and then met her gaze again, unfettered hope in his eyes. “And the rest?”

She pressed a palm against his cheek. “I’m not saying I want to do what Feyre did with Rhys and marry you after a handful of months but I want— I want it to be us,” she said. “That doesn’t make sense but—“

He cut her off with a kiss, soft and loving. “It makes perfect sense.” His nose grazed her cheek as he pulled her closer. “Us against the world, Nes.”

***

I love you.

That’s what he wanted to say, when she was sat in his lap, on the floor of a Winter Court chalet, mulled wine quickly cooling on the table. I love you, I love you, I love you.

He felt the truth of it in every fibre of his being, in every nerve and every bone. Nothing else mattered, nothing except the gravity and the weight of how much he felt for her— how hopelessly, desperately, madly in love with her he was. It was on the tip of his tongue, and he was so close to saying it— so, so close, but this thing between them was fragile, new and tender, like blown glass. He didn’t want to risk it by saying the words that could spook her, could send her running. He certainly couldn’t tell her what she was— what they were. 

You’re my mate, Nesta.

He wondered what would happen if he uttered those words. How quickly she’d bolt.

He wouldn’t risk it, not for the world. Instead, he swallowed down all of it, all those words he so desperately longed to say. Cassian stroked the hair back from Nesta’s face, marvelling at how right it felt to have her like this, in his arms. Her nose was still chapped from the wind, and he leaned forward to press a heartbreakingly gentle, chaste, kiss to its tip. She scrunched it beneath his lips, and he couldn’t help but laugh, couldn’t help but wrap an arm around her waist.

She was everything he had ever dreamed of, and tonight— tonight, he couldn’t quite believe was real. Nesta wanted him. Wanted to be with him. There had always been a push and pull between them, a current so strong it might as well have been a riptide, but he had never dared to hope that it could be something more, that the small kisses and innocent touches could grow into something real, something tangible. 

Nesta wound her arms around his neck tighter, pulling him back down to her, and he smiled into her neck, tasting her skin. His hands found their way under her shirt, skimming her ribs, and he didn’t imagine the way she gasped, the way her chest started to heave. He smirked, and when she reached for the hem of his shirt and lifted, he was all too happy to pull away from her— to stop kissing her for just long enough for her to pull the shirt over his head and around his wings. She threw it somewhere on the other side of the room.

She looked at him with a kind of hunger he’d only ever dreamed of seeing on her face. The kind that he’d never quite expected, never dared to hope for. She dragged her palms down his shoulders, over the plains of his chest, fingers tracing scars he’d one day tell her the stories of. She paused for a second over his heart, dragging her head away from his lips to lean down and kiss the skin there, right above where it thundered in his chest, beating out a rhythm made only for her. 

“Nes,” he breathed, something like a plea, as he wound a hand into her loose hair. She lifted her gaze, and Cassian claimed her lips once more, feeling himself shattering and fraying with every breath. Nesta shifted, placing a knee on either side of his hips. He leaned back on one palm, letting her decide how much she wanted to take— how much she wanted him to give to her. He felt her breathe a soft moan, and clutched her closer to him with the hand he took from her hair and placed on the small of her back. His fingers splayed across her spine, holding her as close as possible. At some point, he’d stopped kissing her— now Nesta was kissing him, and it was the most beautiful, perfect kind of destruction. He didn’t think he’d ever be whole again after, and that was just from a kiss. He didn’t dare think about what would happen if— when he got any further.

She came up for air, and he used the reprieve to put both of his hands on her waist, daring to slip under her shirt once more. He looked up at her, waiting for her to stop him, but she only grabbed his jaw and kissed him thoroughly. Cassian’s hands touched every inch of her as he tore his lips from hers and moved to her neck, her jaw, her ear. She shivered as he bit lightly on her ear again, when he scraped his teeth down her jawline. Gods above, he mused as he tasted the column of her throat, he wanted every inch of her. Every piece. He wanted to know every single part of her and have her know every part of him, too. His wings flared behind him as if in agreement, and Nesta shifted her head to glance at them. She flicked her eyes to him, that beautiful gaze rendering him mute. She blinked slowly.

“Your wings,” she whispered. She lifted a hand and he understood the question she hadn’t asked. He could only nod as she reached over his shoulder and grazed one fingertip down the inside of one wing.

Cassian saw stars.

He buried his head in her neck, gripping her so tightly he was certain he’d leave marks on her waist. He gasped as she skirted a particularly sensitive spot, and he felt her laugh, slow and wicked.

She was going to fucking kill him.

Breathing hard, he reached up to cradle her face in his palms. “You are magnificent,” he said, because he wanted to tell her he loved her, but couldn’t. Her fingers had stilled on his wings— which was a good thing, because he didn’t think he’d last long if she carried on. 

He kissed her softly, gently, watching the heat bank in her eyes, slowly seeping from the moment. Lust was swept aside by affection, and a different, softer, kind of warmth replaced the longing that had just been coursing through him. He still wanted her more than anything, but he wouldn’t take her to bed yet, not on this first night. He promised her on that battlefield that they’d have time. Now that they had it, he wasn’t going to rush it. He was going to savour every single moment.

She twisted in his embrace, until she was sitting across his lap rather than straddling his hips, and he let out a soft, contented, sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder. He shifted until they leaned against the bottom of the sofa, and used his siphons to drift the wine over.

“Brave,” she said, “To drink red wine on a white sofa.”

“We’re not on the sofa,” he corrected, sipping from his mug.

“Against it then.”

He smirked. “Then I suppose we’ll have to be careful, won’t we?” He flicked her nose with his spare hand, setting her scowling. He loved that scowl. “So long as you give me some warning next time, before you throw yourself at me, I think I can get the wine away from the soft furnishings.”

“Throw myself at you?” she repeated flatly. “You kissed me first.”

“Because you asked, princess,” Cassian corrected, smirking. 

“I hate you,” she said, drinking from her wine. Despite her words, she relaxed against his chest.

“Liar.”

“Brute.”

“Witch.”

Silence, where they each stared down the other, wondering who would crack first. Neither, it turned out. Cassian’s lips tugged into a smile at the same moment Nesta’s did, as if they were nothing but two halves of the same whole.

“Cassian,” she said a moment later, her tone tentative. “Are we still doing question for a question?”

He grinned. “I can’t remember if it’s your turn or mine.”

“Well, I’m asking, my turn or not,” she said flatly, and Cassian grinned again, grazing her jaw with his nose. 

“Go ahead, then.”

“I want to know how these lands fit together. How the courts interact, their relations with one another.”

“Why, are you planning on becoming a courtier?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. She frowned and shook her head.

“No, but I don’t like living somewhere I know absolutely nothing about. Besides, my mother raised me for a prince, you know,” she shrugged. “High politics did always interest me.”

“You want me to explain the politics of the courts to you?”

“Yes,” she answered flatly. Bluntly. He let out a huff of a laugh. Extraordinary, he thought. She really is extraordinary.

He spent the next hour explaining the delicate balance between the courts. How nobody ever trusted Beron and how Tarquin was still new but Summer was becoming more of an ally to Night than it had ever been before. He explained how they were separated, how each court was governed. When she asked for a map, he found one in a book on one of the bookshelves, and she asked him to point out to her the places he mentioned, the cities and the towns. The Night Court section was almost entirely blank, and he explained that too. How, until the war, not a single soul knew what lay beyond Night’s borders except Night’s own denizens. She traced a finger over the mountains of Illyria, one of the only details marked.

“What will you do with the rebellion?” she breathed. Cassian stilled.

“End it,” he answered bluntly. She twisted from where she was still in his lap until she could face him fully. 

“It bothers you, doesn’t it?”

“That I’ll have to kill my own people? Of course it does.”

“Why does it have to be you? If it hurts you this much, why can’t—“

“They’re my people, Nes,” he said, dragging a hand down her spine. “If Rhys carries out punishment himself it will only make it worse, and Az would probably just burn all of Illyria to the ground. It has to be me. They’re my people and I am their General.” He found her gaze and held it. “It will haunt me, but for Rhys, and for this court, I’ll do it.”

“I wish I could take it away,” she whispered. “I wish I could stop it.”

Cassian’s heart splintered. Oh, how he knew that feeling. He felt it every time he looked at her and saw shadows in her eyes, every time she flinched before a fire. How he longed to make the world less painful, less cruel, just to save her an ounce of heartache. That she wanted to do the same for him… it killed him in the most exquisite way.

“I know, princess.” He offered her a weak smile. “I wish I could take away every little thing that has ever bothered you.”

She said nothing, only wrapped her arms around him and held him, offering him comfort the only way she knew how. 

Mother, Cassian didn’t know how he’d ever gotten so lucky. How he’d ever deserve her. 

“How do you sleep on your back?” she asked after a long silence. Cassian drew back from her, momentarily confused and more than a little bit stunned. 

She had asked so many questions tonight, as if the curiosity of the Dawn Court had woken a long-buried inquisitive trait within her, but this one… This one was perhaps one of the more idle questions, as if she were thinking aloud.

“…By lying down on my back?” Cassian answered, though it came out sounding more like a question than Nesta’s had. She rolled her eyes and nodded to his wings.

“With the wings.”

“Oh,” he said, ruffling his wings as he did so. “I suppose it’s not unlike sleeping with your hair down.” He tugged on her unbound hair for emphasis. “It can be uncomfortable if they get trapped under a shoulder or get pinned down another way but largely it’s fine.” He shrugged. “Most Illyrians sleep on their sides though, to avoid any damage.”

“Huh,” she said, tilting her head. The curiosity in her face set him on fire, and gave him such sparkling, glistening hope. When she’d first come out of the cauldron, she’d looked at him - looked at everything around her - with such dead, lifeless eyes. She hadn’t cared for anything, had never bothered to ask or pay attention. Now though, he could see her coming to life. Had watched her apathy slowly melt away, as if the Day and Dawn courts had started to chip away at the ice and grief surrounding her, and Winter had unleashed her curiosity completely. He’d go to the ends of the earth and back just to keep that light in her eyes.

“I wondered, you know,” she said with a shrug. “The first time we met. I thought the wings were horrific, such monstrous things— but then I thought, how do they sleep on their backs?”

Cassian laughed, his chin dropping to rest on her shoulder. “Rhys wanted to glamour us for that meeting.”

“It wouldn’t have worked,” she said blandly. Cassian frowned, looking at her in silent question. “Glamours never worked on me,” she elaborated. “When Tamlin took Feyre, Elain and father were fully convinced she’d gone to stay with a long lost aunt but I remembered everything.”

Cassian was rendered speechless. He’d always known Nesta was special, but to resist a glamour? As a mortal? Mother above, she was a goddess, and whilst he’d willingly throw himself on the ground and worship at her feet… he wanted to do so much more than that. So, so much more.

“That’s why I tried to get her,” Nesta continued. “I tried to get above the wall-“

“You tried to get above the wall?” he cut in, his throat dry. The thought of her above the wall as a mortal, going after Feyre, stepping into fae lands whilst Amarantha reigned… it didn’t bear thinking about.

Nesta nodded, as though it were nothing, and Cassian’s arm tightened around her waist, as if to remind himself that she was here, she was safe.

“You’re insane,” he said after a moment.

“Evidently,” she countered dryly, glancing pointedly at the arms he had round her. He huffed a laugh and nipped at her earlobe, noting the shiver that ran down her spine. He tucked that away for later. She likes it when you bite her ear. 

“I don’t know why the glamour never worked,” she shrugged.

“You’re one of a kind, Nes. That’s why.”

She snorted, and reached over to place her wine back on the low table. Afterwards, she wound both arms around his neck. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her elbow, watching as that made her shiver, too.

Curiosity still burned in those bewitching eyes of hers, like a flame that couldn’t be put out once it had been kindled.

“The monsters in the Middle,” she said. “Tell me about the them.”

It wasn’t a question, but a demand, perhaps the only one she could make that Cassian wasn’t prepared to entertain. He shook his head.

“You won’t sleep tonight,” he said, kissing the curve of her neck in a vain attempt at distracting her.

“How bad can it be?” Nesta asked, eyebrow raised in a challenge that sent his blood racing. He kissed a path over her collarbones, fingers drifting over her hips.“Bad enough to haunt your dreams, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin.

“My dreams can’t get anymore haunted than they already are,” she countered. “And I’ll have a fearsome warrior beside me to scare off such monsters.”

He grinned. “Oh, the most fearsome.” He let his smile drop, let his eyes find hers, hold her stare. “But even I’m afraid of some of those creatures.” 

“What’s so awful it has a seasoned warrior trembling?” 

“I’m not trembling.” 

She raised one perfect eyebrow again, so imperious that Cassian growled, low and playful. She turned her head away from him, scrunching her nose once more. Cassian only nudged her cheek with the tip of his own nose. He refused to answer her question. Just the thought of some of those creatures, some of the ones he’d locked away in the Prison… No, he wasn’t about to let the memory of any of them ruin what was turning out to be an utterly perfect evening.

“Since when were you so curious?” he asked, dodging her question.

“Always,” Nesta shrugged. “You just never saw it. I never wanted to know anything about this land before. It was easier,” she said, “to keep that barrier up, to keep the separation between who I was before and who I am now.”

Cassian tilted his head. “And now?”

“Now… I don’t think that barrier is helping.”

It was a quiet, pained admission, one Cassian knew it killed her to make. He didn’t know what to say to that— didn’t know how to answer her.

Silence fell, thick and heavy as the snow outside. Nesta let her gaze linger on his lips, on his cheekbones.

“What do you want, Cassian?” Nesta asked after a long pause, and something in her voice trembled, as though she were almost afraid of his answer. Ridiculous, he thought. As if he could ever deny her. Ever reject her. 

“Tonight, or in general?” he asked lightly, echoing her words from earlier. It earned him a tentative smile, one that lit up her face and stopped his heart. 

“Both.”

“Tonight, I just want this,” he said. “You, and wine, and a mountain of snow outside, and the hundred questions I can tell you’ve still got left to ask.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth when she pouted, but he could tell by the look in her eyes, by the curiosity that had been ignited there, that she really did have a hundred questions. Possibly more. “As for the rest,” he continued with a shrug. “I have wanted you from the moment I met you Nesta. I want a future with you, whatever that looks like. Whatever form that takes. I have known for a long, long time that I wanted you in every capacity, in whatever way you would let me have you, for as long as you’d let me have you.”

She swallowed, letting his confession settle between them. “I told you in Dawn,” he said with a shrug. “You are my everything, Nesta.”

“And you are mine,” she echoed in a whisper, leaning her forehead against his, kissing him softly. He half thought he’d combust, that he’d never survive it, hearing those words fall from her lips, words he would crawl over broken glass to hear again.

And you are mine.

Mine.

#nessian #this was originally fluff but i scrapped it and went for angst instead #sorry not sorry #originally there were reindeers and sleigh rides #all gone in favour of a good old fashioned heart to heart

[theheelerbooklifereads]

🚨 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑇𝑒𝑥𝑡: 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑟𝑢𝑒𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 __ 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 ___.

Welcome to my stop in the Promo Tour for The Ruins of the Heartless Fae by @authormahamfatemi!

A fae girl on the run. A cruel winter soldier who left her for dead. And a mysterious castle that may ruin them both. The Ruins of the Heartless Fae is the first installment in the Heartless and the Wicked series, a YA Epic Fantasy that features fast paced action, elemental magic, and a very slow burn romance. Perfect for fans of Elise Kova, Sarah J. Maas, and Holly Black. Out now from Moon Press LLC & also available to read on Kindle Unlimited!

Read this book if you love:

✨ Enemies to … lovers?

✨ Slow burn romance

✨ Epic Fantasy

✨ Action/ adventure

✨ Elemental magic

✨ Secret powers

✨ Forced Proximity

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[luna-rainbow]

Who's the writer that quit from TFATWS?

My mistake, I don't think he officially quit. I think someone else brought it up last year as a possible explanation for why the plot and characterisation was so messy.

Derek Kolstad was announced with some fanfare (probably because he's got John Wick under his belt) but he was absent from the press round (there is exactly one interview I can find prior to TFATWS screening where he talked about the series and that was it). Of course, Spellman is the head writer so he's the one doing the tour.

Someone discussed the theory that Kolstad was brought on to write Bucky, while Spellman was to write Sam and Walker. I can't find the exact post now but they thought it was possible Kolstad simply didn't pull his weight on the project, so Spellman had to fill in and...whether he just didn't care about Bucky or didn't have time to do the research on Bucky, it was clear that Bucky's side of the story was glaringly OOC for several key beats.

Also, I know it's unrelated to the ask but since I've looked it up.

On October 30, 2018, Variety reported that Marvel Studios was developing a limited TV series featuring Falcon and the Winter Soldier on Disney+, with Kevin Feige set to serve as an executive producer, while Malcolm Spellman was confirmed to serve as the writer of the series. (MCU fandom wiki)

On April 11, 2019, during Disney’s 2019 Investor Day, it was announced that What If would premiere during the first year of Disney+. Kevin Feige also announced that each episode would explore a key moment from the Marvel Cinematic Universe and that first episode would explore what if Peggy Carter was given the Super Soldier Serum instead of Steve Rogers. (MCU fandom wiki)

So they've been planning a CC-centric show straight after Endgame. And they've been bleating loud about CC ever since TFATWS wrapped up.

The other very cynical possibility is that as soon as EG was written they got cold feet on a Black Cap and invested in a back-up plan, and maybe as time went by the Union Jack female Cap looked more and more like a safe option.

And importantly...CC is going to be a female hero in the modern day. At least that's what she is in What If and Doctor Strange. In that case...the misogyny aspect is no different to what a horde of other MCU women are facing, and we have seen that...most of these women thrive through the misogyny even without superpowers. She's literally just an overpowered White woman who had come from a privileged background and like...her only claim to disadvantage isn't at all different or more interesting than all the other badass women who already exist in the modern MCU.

Meanwhile, Sam being an icon for specifically Black people in America (as opposed to fictional Wakanda) is far more threatening to the status quo, because the oppression for Black people continues to be so much more pervasive and violent, and maybe that's why he's being sidelined.

#anti peggy carter #anti captain carter #asks

[softlyspector]

How do you feel about Bucky not being in the 4th Captain America movie? I feel like Disney/Marvel really fumbled the Sam & Bucky bag. Ever since the Winter Soldier 2014 press tour, people have loved Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan together and pushed for a story with them being buddy cops and instead the studio gave us TFATWC :/

huge L from marvel honestly - they had potential for a great thing with fatws but the more i think back on that show the more hollow and rushed and not good it feels

#bec talks

[thelonesomequeen]

People really believe Chris could did this Jack o lantern, or even Alba, her mom do well?! It's look like a professional thing. He wasn't capable to draw the shield of cap and winter soldier arm during press tour correctly. Even in taking his time that look like to be curv by someone who had the habit

We keep getting similar asks to this one. You all know that they make pumpkin stencils, right? It really isn’t hard to carve a picture into a pumpkin with one 🦎

[moonlight-prose]

Top 5 favorite things about yourself?

Also top 5 Sebastian Stan moments?

Ok byeeee 👋🏻

top five things about myself?? i can't just do the sebastian moments..........................??? i'll give you top two cause i don't think i can come up with five.

my green thumb (i do like that i'm good at keeping plants alive)

my music taste (sometimes)

SEBASTIAN MOMENTS

anytime he's with anthony mackie on a press tour

when he mentions lube "well i gotta get in there"

when he showed up to the first doctor strange premiere with that purple and black look

his quarantine videos

that video where he trips over a car dressed as the winter soldier

#witch aunt responds #laralie darling🕸 #i have no idea when this ask game reblogged #but i always take decades to answer asks #apologies

[tartrazeen]

I'm trying to think of creative ways for Marvel and Disney to lie to its actors and hide the script to keep the spoilers intact, but in a way where the actors get enough information to actually develop a cohesive understanding of the plot and make informed acting choices with other actors, on top of running rehearsals with other actors in advance to get a sense of how their characters should play off of each other.

So I think:

just lie about the movie lol

Marvel already uses fake project titles for auditions. Why not take that further?

1. Say it's a Touchstone movie

Now you don't have to explain why it's got such a big budget. You know it's being funded by Disney. No other pressures are involved now.

2. Write the movie so it intentionally shifts genre/tone/whatever during the third act, then give the actors the entire script up to that point

Let them be in the dark about all the stupid 'Spoiler™' stuff, but be able to create a character right up to that point.

3. Write the movie based on characters from decoy scripts

Have them do scene studies. Have them build the character. Have them explore the motivations. Bam - "none of that actually happens on the screen lol but bring all that energy to these new pages ok?"

4. Write more characters who are intentionally lied to or locked out of vital information

The whole movie follows some kind of betrayal. Give the actors scripts where everything works out and they can appreciate how important it was for that to happen, then be like, "ok now u know how we said santa was real? guess what? Ok go!" In the meantime, the character relationships to others and to other settings can still be established, and the context in one direction can be developed enough to quickly be like, "Wait, that didn't happen? Okay, this is now what that means to this character."

5. Use actors specifically and purely specialized in improv or method acting, then give them pages and pages of backstory and character motivation and relationships

If not knowing what's supposed to be happening is the point, just how the actors get their characters to react, burn the script completely and just them character work. Go full method or whatever - idc, but at least now things can be set up to make in-the-moment decisions instead of pretending these people knew what was going on like complete masterminds.

6. Have characters completely transform because hurble-burble-curse

This character becomes a villain later? Act like the whole movie's about what a hero they are until they get brainwashed. Winter Soldier everyone, basically, so it doesn't matter if spoilers about the quote-unquote 'Bucky' come out because no one's gonna suspect the quote-unquote 'Winter Soldier'.

7. Write completely separate scripts for different actors.

This is the mastermind? They get a different script with different scene directions than the poor helpless victim caught in the web.

8. Write a press release script.

Lie. Lmao just straight up lie on press tours. Be like, "Here are the themes of this movie. If you like XYZ, you'll love this. Ok now here's what i'm allowed to tell you - this is the entire script lmao" And combine with #7 for maximum lulz

Like I guess we could also just be normal about spoilers and Disney could get its head out of its ass about leaks, but so long as they've got the money and the interest, they might as well lean into it.