#(like it's not world ending if I don't get my fingers on it until spring break

[silverduckie]

I don't suppose someone with access to a vpn would mind grabbing Blackout series 2 for me 🥺

[winterarmyy]

I Knew It Then

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: If it was supposed to be a casual thing, then why does it hurts so much?

Pairing: avenger!bucky x female!reader

Words: 4.8k++

Warnings: angsty, maybe a tad too angst. a bit fluffy, if you search for it, and everything in between. non-descriptive sex scene but definitely contain adult (18+) contents. so, reader discretion.

Inspiration: @buck-star asked in a community post, “The sentence is: 'And then we were standing in front of one another again…' How would you continue it?” and this is my answer.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Bucky adjusted the sleeves of his jacket; a dark leather, matching the gloves he was wearing. Underneath was a charcoal coloured shirt; his pants was dark-wash jeans, frayed slightly at the edges. It was an effort to blend into the festive sea of people. Despite the spring air of Central Park, his style remained a mixture of shadowed past and muted present, a mix that barely fit in with the brightness of the day. 

The launch of the Avengers statues was a grand event; a reminder of battles fought, lives saved, a place for the public to show their gratitude and admiration. Honestly, in Bucky’s opinion, all of this was a little bit over the top. In which, Steve agreed. They both think that they were undeserving to be sculptured and displayed like this. 

Even the Avengers are human, excluding Thor, they were mortals; unfit to be worshipped as they are now. Yet, after being coaxed with quite a diplomatic, exaggerating speech about how ‘the people need a hero to look up to’, Steve ended up convinced. Not that it matters, but Stark was the one who gave that speech.

Nonetheless, Bucky couldn’t really object to the decision, but he did stated that he will not participate in the event with the rest of the team. And they can’t really do much about that, forcing him to will be equivalent to kidnapping and Bucky had literally filed a police report for it before. So, they won’t take their chances. 

The cheers and thundering of applause rippled through the park, filling every space with a strange blend of solemnity and celebration. Bucky lingered on the edge, hands shoved deep into his pockets, shoulders tensed beneath the weight of too many eyes while his own focused on his team on the make-shift stage near the statues. 

He preferred it here. No red carpets. No standing in front of flashing cameras with a smile that would never sit quite right on his lips.

With less aliens around and Hydra in hiding, this should have been a familiar scene; the Avengers posing and the people cheering. But for Bucky, the novelty had long worn off. The noise washed over him like waves lapping against a shore he couldn’t care to meet.

Shifting on his feet, his fingers brushing against the worn leather of his gloves, as if the urge to retreat was creeping under his skin. The cheers, the bright flashes of cameras, all blended into a muffled hum that made him wonder how soon he could slip away unnoticed.

Until he saw her.

She stood beneath the shade of a blooming cherry tree, the soft pink petals floating down around her as if nature itself wanted to frame her as a living art. 

Y/N. 

Bucky's breath was caught somewhere between inhaling and exhaling. Her mere presence had left him frozen. Then, the noise of the crowd slowly fading, the applause turning duller as his heart pounded in his chest, each beat harder, louder, until it drowned out the world around him. For a few painful moments, he felt as if his heart might force its way free from his ribcage, breaking him apart in the process.

She wore that sundress again. The light fabric swayed gently with each breeze, caressing her figure, the pastel colour that reminded him of the flowers he used to get for her. It was the same dress she’d worn that day; the day he realised falling for her wasn't a choice but a reality that had already happened. He swallowed hard, memories surging in torrents. Her laughter echoed in his ears, the way her eyes lit up when she spoke about things that mattered to her. 

Now however, beneath the sweet sundress and that familiar grace, there was a darkness under her eyes. Shadows etched into her delicate skin, sadness lingering; still and silent, behind the gaze that once held nothing but warmth. Bucky's jaw tightened as he took it all in, every unspoken truth laid bare on her face. He knew why; he’d heard whispers through mutual acquaintances. About the heaviness she tried to mask, about the pain she tried to live through. 

Seeing it now, in the flesh, was so much worse.

It broke him. 

Again. His chest ached, a raw wound ripped within his chest; for every moment she suffered and every part of him that couldn’t fix it. Bucky wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. It was as if an invisible vine had him rooted on earth, willing him to witness the toll their separation had taken on her. How ironic, he thought bitterly. For someone once considered a ghost by the world, he was all too aware of how haunting it felt to see her pain in living colour.

The bar had been crowded that night when they met, laughter and music clashing together in a storm of contagious intoxication. Bucky found his usual spot in the corner, however unusually alone this time. His shoulders hunched beneath his leather jacket; his gloved hands nursed a drink he wasn’t truly interested in. He was simply another brooding man in a bar, trying to swallow his own bitterness, trying to forget. Elena’s words, his ex’s words, echoed in his mind; taunting and cold, leaving a metallic taste on his tongue.

“Mind if I sit?”

Her voice cut through the noise. He’d looked up, barely masking his surprise. The woman standing before him was... a force of nature. She didn’t wait for his permission and slid into the seat beside him, a confident smile tugging at her lips. 

She was so bright, so unapologetically there. 

It almost felt disorienting. Her eyes sparkled like she’d already decided he was interesting and wasn’t about to change her mind. “You always brood like this, or is it a special occasion?” she teased, tilting her head.

“Special occasion,” he replied dryly, a hint of sarcasm colouring his tone. “Guess I’m lucky, huh?”

She laughed, loud and unfiltered, drawing curious looks. “I’ll drink to that,” she said, raising her glass to him as if they were old friends sharing a private joke.

Bucky fought to suppress the twitch of his lips. He wasn’t sure what to make of her. “What brings you to this fine establishment?” he asked, his voice flat but not harsh. “Looking to rescue sad souls like me?”

“Rescue?” She leaned in, eyes dancing with mischief. “Please. I’m here for the entertainment value.”

“Brutal,” he said, but he couldn’t help it; the corner of his mouth lifted. A real smile was threatening to form.

Y/N, as she introduced herself a few moments later, was a whirlwind of honesty and charm. She spoke without hesitation, as if every thought had a right to be voiced. She teased him about the gloves he refused to take off, made a biting but hilarious comment about her friend’s taste in men as she watched her and the man grinding it on the dance floor, and then, out of nowhere, zeroed in on him.

She gestured to his drink. “Let me guess. Your ex. She, or he, I don’t judge…” A tiniest smile curved on the corner of his lips. “She.” he clarified which was replied with a glint of interest in Y/N’s eyes. She nodded, “Okay, she left you for someone who didn’t know how to brood so attractively.”

Bucky choked on his drink, laughter erupting before he could help himself. It was warm and a little bashful, completely genuine. He hadn’t laughed like that in... he couldn’t remember how long.

Y/N was not expecting much tonight. She was literally dragged by her friends to ’go out, meet people, get laid’. Truthfully, she wasn’t really expecting anything more than a few hours of banter and maybe some fleeting connection, just enough to make her smile. Witty remarks, a few drinks, teasing anyone interesting enough to engage; that was her aim. 

But when she saw him, brooding in his corner, a storm trapped beneath layers of leather and cold eyes, curiosity overtook reason. She wanted to know if he would entertain her. 

And he did.

Bucky or as he introduced himself, James, was sarcasm wrapped in shadows, his words carrying a sharpness that wasn’t meant to hurt, just to deflect. She found it oddly endearing, a defence mechanism she recognized all too well. She wanted to pull more from him, so she leaned in, laughed too loudly, pressed buttons she guessed would make him react. 

At first, it was just fun.

But then he smiled. God, when he smiled, her world tilted; much against her will too. It was like the first hint of sunlight breaking through a dense, dark cloud. His laughter was warm and unpracticed, spilling out of him as if it surprised him too. The moment stretched, just for a heartbeat, but it was enough. 

Her heart momentarily shuddered. She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks, blooming a soft pink she couldn’t hide. So, she covered it with more wit, more charm, desperate to keep that smile there a second longer.

“I’m kidding. Kind of,” she said, eyes softening as she studied him. “But seriously, imagine missing out on you. That’s just sad at this point.”

But underneath the humour, there was a flutter of something much profound. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Her heartbeat raced and she felt exposed. How ridiculous, she thought, to be undone by a smile; a real one, genuine and imperfect, just as raw as her own attempt to draw it out.

The concept of time blurred after that. Drinks flowed, words tumbled out like secrets they didn’t know they were sharing. Banter turned into stories, laughter into pauses that spoke louder than the music blaring around them. At some point, she reached for his hand, not caring that it was gloved or why. Her fingers lingered, hesitant for half a breath, before resting there as if they’d been doing so for years. 

The air thickened and inches shrink.

When he kissed her, she found herself kissing him back with a need she hadn’t recognized before. It wasn’t about filling the void; at least, not only that. It was about the way he leaned into her touch, how he kissed like it was the last act that could hold him together. It was raw and open and imperfect and she was high on it.

Despite the fleeting, breath-stealing kisses they shared prior, Bucky had only meant to see her safely to her home. That was the plan, the line he swore he wouldn’t cross. But when her lips met his again just outside her apartment, everything unravelled. Her kiss was insistent, needy in a way that mirrored the ache deep inside him. She pulled him in, the door closing behind them, shutting out the world and any remnants of restraint he had left.

They stumbled to the bed, still fully dressed, every touch and kiss growing more urgent. Her hands found the edges of his jacket, fingers seeking to peel it away. But when she tugged, he pulled back, his breaths ragged. “Wait,” he murmured, eyes cast down. His hesitation was a stark contrast to the flames between them moments before.

She paused immediately, her gaze softening. “What’s wrong?” Her voice was gentle, careful not to push too hard but unwilling to let him slip away either.

“I’m not who you think I am,” he said, the words thick, heavy.

A crease formed between her brows. “What? Your name is not James?”

The question, so genuine and earnest, pulled a laugh from him; short, almost incredulous. “No. I am James, but…” He ran a gloved hand through his hair, avoiding her eyes.

“But…?” she prompted, leaning in, her attention unwavering.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he said, each syllable weighted.

For a moment, she was silent. He could see her piecing it together, searching for the meaning behind his words. Then understanding dawned, slow and certain. “You’re…” she began, just as he said, “The Winter Soldier.” But what came from her lips was, “The Avenger.”

They stared at each other, the tension snapping into something fragile, almost surreal. “What?” they both said in unison, the word a mix of disbelief and irony. 

The absurdity of it cracked something inside him, and he laughed; a real, deep laugh that felt like a release. She joined him, their laughter intertwining in a way that felt like a mutual understanding. At the moment, Bucky realised that she didn’t flinch or shrink back. She met him where he was, without hesitation. He felt a pull; unsettling but oddly comforting; and, for a split second, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be different.

The humour melted into something more intense as she leaned closer, her hands found his again. “I want this, James,” she whispered, peeling away his glove. She cupped his cool, metal hand, pressing his palm against her cheek. The contrast of warmth against vibranium made his chest tighten. “I want you.” she spoke almost breathlessly; her eyes gazed up at him with an endearing plea.

His eyes darkened with a mix of desire and something much softer, “I want you too,” he said, his voice low, unguarded.

They moved together, shedding barriers with every kiss and touch. When their clothes finally fell away, they explored each other with as much urgency and wonder. Every touch, every movement was deliberate, almost desperate. He wanted to memorise her reactions. He wanted to give as much as he could.

It was raw and consuming, a night spent discovering each other. There was nothing mechanical, nothing detached. For hours, it was just them, bodies moving in unison and their moans and groans of pleasure mingling in a symphony that can challenge a siren’s song.

He found himself lost in her, in the way her skin felt beneath his, in the way she moaned for him. He couldn’t hold back, not when she responded to him with such hunger, her body moving against his with a need that matched his own. 

Every touch felt like a revelation, a new discovery, and he was pulled deeper into her, into the warmth and the rawness of the moment. It was as if time itself had stopped, and all that mattered was the heat of their connection.

When morning came, the light creeping in through the blinds, they lay bashfully, tangled in the sheets. For a few moments, there was only silence, a comfortable quiet punctuated by the slow return of reality. He turned to her, the words were heavy, he knew it, but he continued, “I’m not ready for… anything serious,” he admitted, hating the way it sounded, but knowing he owed her the truth.

She met his gaze, her expression soft and understanding. “That’s okay,” she said. “We don’t need to label it. It can be what it is.”

“Casual?” he asked, a hint of humour back in his voice.

She smiled, a touch of mischief in her eyes. “Casual.”

They both laughed, the sound soft and real. Whatever this was, for now, it was enough.

The next few months, their ‘casual’ arrangement became something she thought about far too often and yet tried to pretend wasn’t pressing too deep. The sex was undeniably great, almost maddeningly so. It wasn’t just the way he touched her, though that alone was enough to steal her breath; the careful, deliberate caresses that made her feel cherished and desired all at once. 

It was the way he explored her as if every inch of her, the weight of his attention, the way he moved with a mix of tenderness and hunger, as if he couldn’t decide whether to worship her or devour her. And maybe that was why it was so intoxicating; because she was falling for him, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

It wasn’t just the physical connection; it was everything in between. She fell for the way he could be painfully serious one moment and then crack the most unexpected joke, a hint of dry humour lighting up his eyes. She fell for the way he made sure her tea was always brewed just the way she liked, even though he claimed to be terrible at domestic things. 

She fell for his unspoken kindness; the way he would slip a blanket over her when she fell asleep on the couch, or his habit of standing protectively between her and crowded places without even thinking about it. It was all so subtle, so Bucky, and it deteriorated her defences bit by bit.

And Bucky on the other hand, tried not to let himself be too vulnerable around her. But Y/N had a warmth that made it hard for him to stay closed off. She didn’t push; she was just; a steady, comforting presence that felt like safety. Sometimes, without meaning to, he’d spill pieces of himself. 

Like the night he told her about Elena; the betrayal, the gaslighting on how she cheated on him because of him; it was his trauma and depression that had driven her away. As if she was trying to make it worse, as if she had a vendetta to isolate him from everyone else. 

And Y/N had listened without judgement, her eyes soft with compassion. “That’s not on you,” she had whispered, her hand covering his. “She was the problem, not you.” When the weight of his past grew too heavy, she was there.

And when she opened up about her own scars; the ex who wouldn’t leave her alone, the fear that lingered in the shadows; Bucky listened, fierce protectiveness hardening his features. That night, instead of touching each other’s body, they caressed each other’s innermost scars. They’d talk late into the night; their words heavy, but never too much for the other to bear.

And ever since their dynamic was a shifting dance, effortlessly dirty and playful one minute, his lips teasing at her neck, their words to each other were dripping with sin. The next, they’d be soft and tender, his forehead pressed to hers as they simply breathed together. And then there were the quiet, deep moments; when silence spoke more than words, and they found comfort just in being close, in the simple act of not being alone. 

It was everything, all tangled together, and it made it so easy, too damn easy, to fall in love with him. She knew she shouldn’t, but with Bucky, it felt inevitable.

Then, one in those blissful days, after another night of incredible sex, Bucky laid beside her, his chest still heavy with the aftermath of their intimacy. His eyes traced the soft curves of her form as she rested, her skin glowing in the dim light. 

She looked almost ethereal; untouchable, like something too perfect for him. The weight of her presence next to him was both comforting and painful, tightening his chest with a longing he couldn’t name. Shifting slightly, he cleared his throat, his voice rough when he finally spoke, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I’m going back to Elena,” he confessed, the statement hanging heavily in the air. 

For a moment, there was something in his eyes; a flicker of hesitation, of conflict, as if he desperately wanted to hold onto what they had, as if saying the words was a battle he was losing with every breath. 

But whatever war raged within him never fully translated in the way she saw him. To Y/N, his words felt resolute, laced with a kind of tenderness that made it hurt even more. He seemed sorry; deeply, genuinely. But the weight of his decision pressed down between them, undeniable.

She went still for a moment and he could feel the tension radiating from her. The way her body seemed to freeze, her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t respond at first, her gaze distant, focusing somewhere far away as though she needed a moment to process. Bucky’s chest felt heavy with the weight of his own words, the urge to take them back gnawing at him. 

Yet he kept his expression neutral, as if none of this hurt him. He needed to see this through, even if every second felt like he was tearing himself apart. “This…being here with you, touching you like this… this will be the last time,” he added, the sound of his voice was low but remained adamant.

Y/N had always known, somewhere deep down, that this day would come. They had both agreed that what they had was casual, temporary, nothing more than a passing thing. They had agreed their connection was fleeting; simply a series of borrowed moments. But even as she tried to convince herself it was fine, she knew better. 

Nothing about what they shared was truly casual. They’d been there for each other in ways no one else had. When the world had been cruel to him, scrutinising him for his past as the Winter Soldier, she’d been his quiet strength, the one who never judged him, never flinched. And when her own demons resurfaced, casting shadows over her life; he’d been the one there, standing between her and her doom. He had been her rock, just as she had been his. 

They were each other's strength, each other's solace.

'Has it ever really been casual?' But she couldn’t voice those thoughts. She wouldn’t burden him with her feelings when he already carried so much of his own. She wouldn’t beg for more than he could offer. 

With a soft breath, she forced herself to smile, her fingers brushing over his cheek, committing every moment to memory before it slipped away. “Will this make you happy?” she asked, her voice steady, though pain lingered beneath the surface.

Bucky’s heart twisted, but he nodded, the lie coming too easily. “Yes,” he said, his voice lacking conviction even as he tried to seem sure. He averted his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t see past the facade.

Her smile wavered, but she fought to hold it in place. She wanted to show him that she was fine, that she wasn’t falling apart. But as she pressed her smile into place, a single tear slipped from her eye, tracing a quiet path down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, but it was already there; a silent confession of the pain he couldn’t see.

“Then, I guess this is goodbye,” she whispered, barely audible.

She leaned in, her forehead resting against his, her breath warm against his lips. And then she kissed him; softly, deeply, as if it would be their last.

Because, in this moment, it felt like it was.

The days blurred into weeks, and then months, each one dragging by with a dull ache that Y/N couldn’t shake. She buried herself in work, refusing to let her mind linger on what she’d lost. When that wasn't enough, she picked up freelance gigs; anything that kept her mind too occupied even thought about pain and the aching emptiness Bucky’s absence had left behind. 

It was easier that way; easier to drown in deadlines and endless to-do lists than to confront the hollowness. And through all this time, there were not a single call, or texts from Bucky. Just silence. Rationally, she knew it was for the best. He was a hero, after all; his life pulled him in a thousand different directions. And she told herself she was fine.

But late at night, when the world grew quiet, she could still feel it; the loss that crept into her bones and refused to let go. Most of the time, she'd catch herself staring at the ceiling, replaying the touch of his hand, the sound of his laughter, the way he had looked at her as if she were his whole world, even if just for a moment. She tried to shake it off, to convince herself that it was all just an illusion, but the hole in her chest ached too deeply to ignore.

Time passed. The headlines told of his deeds; how he saved countless lives, how the public finally began to accept him, to see him not just as a relic of violence and pain, but as a hero. She should’ve felt proud. Maybe, on some level, she did. But every article, every broadcast, every mention of him only twisted the knife deeper. 

At times, she’d pause whatever she was doing when his name flashed across the screen. It was a reflex, a sudden, uncontrollable urge to reach for something she could never have. She’d feel her chest tighten, her emotions were a blend of pride and pain. Why did she feel like this, like she wasn’t needed, like she was somehow unwanted by the man who had once looked at her like she was everything?

Even then, she couldn’t help but feel proud. No matter how much it hurts, she was happy for him. She remembered the sleepless nights when his past came alive in nightmares; when he’d thrash and murmur apologies with a voice cracked by guilt. She could still feel the weight of him in her arms as he clung to her in the dark, his breath shuddering against her neck, whispering, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry.” The memory of it made her chest ache; the rawness of his pain had always cut her deep, but it had also made her want to be his safe place, his haven.

She thought of those nights often. The way he’d hold her as if she were a shield against the ghosts that hunted him, how he’d bury his face in her shoulder to block out the world’s judgement. She’d whispered reassurances, stroked his hair, and wished she could take away every ounce of his pain. Seeing him now, standing tall, saving lives, and slowly being accepted by the world; it filled her with a bittersweet pride. 

He deserved every bit of recognition, every chance to rebuild himself.

But the cost of that pride was the deep loneliness that came with it; the reminder that he was out there saving the world while she was left to save herself from missing him. She wanted to be enough, to be the one he leaned on, but it was clear now that his path led somewhere she couldn’t follow. So she pushed forward, forced herself to be strong, and told herself that being happy for him was enough.

When the crowd at the Central Park continued to roar with excitement, time seemed like it stopped for Bucky and Y/N. And then they were standing in front of one another again, the air between them held a weight, as if every word left unspoken all those nights was pressing against the space between them. Bucky’s eyes flickered; momentarily shocked, yet he didn’t falter. 

Even then, Y/N saw it. She saw the look in his eyes that she knew too well, the look he had when it was just them, wrapped up in stolen hours that no one knew about. She forced a smile, warm and soft, the very same that she used to give him in those silent times, when their skins were pressed against each other, and everything else didn't matter. 

His heart ached with a need he thought he’d buried. He thought he had let her go. He kept telling himself he was not in love, that she was just someone to keep his bed warm, to fill the empty space his past had left behind. At least, that was what he told himself, over and over, like a mantra meant to dull the edges of the truth.

But deep down, he knew it was a lie; a desperate deception crafted to shield him from the vulnerability clawing at his walls. He was not fooling anyone, not himself at least. Each night he spent denying the way his pulse quickened at the thought of her touch, each time he claimed he felt nothing, the thin layer of defence cracked beneath the weight of untold longing. It was easier to lie, to pretend he didn’t care, than to face the reality that she had carved her place inside him, far deeper than he wanted to admit.

Now, seeing her again, smiling at him as if it didn't shatter her heart when he left, it was like he’d been hollowed out. 

And the time that seemingly stopped, abruptly resumed to its pace when they walked past each other. No words crossed their lips, but their eyes spoke a language that was theirs alone; a language that carried echoes of every touch, every laugh, every shared moment.

‘I miss you,’ their gazes whispered, even as the distance between them widened with each step.

They kept walking.

That night, Bucky found himself in front of her apartment. When she opened the door, it was as if she was expecting someone. Not him, but someone. Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him standing there, broad shoulders taut and expression unreadable. 

For a second, neither of them spoke. The sight of her; dressed in a fitted dress that draped elegantly over her figure, accentuating every line and curve, stole the air from his lungs. It was the kind of dress she used to wear when they’d go out on a date, the kind that never failed to send his thoughts swirling in the gutter. No thoughts, just lust. 

She looked stunning. Ethereal even. But, painfully out of reach.

Y/N blinked. Shock, confusion, and hurt flashing in her eyes, as if the memories of what they’d had; and how it ended, came crashing back all at once. “Hey… James. What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice tight and Bucky was never used to it.

He swallowed hard, his eyes drifting to her lips and lingering there longer than he intended. “Out for a date?” he murmured, evading her question, the words tasting like lead.

“Yeah…Kind of.” she replied, guarded. Silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid things. Finally, he spoke again, his voice a low rasp. “Can I come in?”

She studied him warily, the hurt in her eyes morphing into something sharper. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, James.”

“Please,” he said, and the desperation in his tone softened her resolve just enough. She stepped aside reluctantly. “You gotta be quick,” she said, almost dismissively. “Josh is on the way.”

The mention of another man’s name was like a knife twisting in his chest. Bucky forced himself to stay still, to not let his expression betray him, but inside, he felt raw, the bitterness coiling deep.

Once inside, she crossed her arms over her chest, a defensive barrier between them. “Talk,” she said flatly.

He paced, trying to find the words. “It wasn’t real,” he started, voice thick. “Me and Elena getting back together; it was a mission. She was suspected of being a mole.” he paused as he studied her reaction, ” We couldn’t risk telling you. We had to make it look real. ”

She stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief, as if trying to grasp the whirlwind of his sudden appearance. “You’re here for that? To explain yourself?” There was incredulity in her voice, mingled with raw, exhausted pain that came from reopening old wounds.

“Yes.” Bucky’s voice was firm but edged with something close to desperation. “We managed to capture her.” He took a deep breath, his gaze searching hers. “We had to keep the mission under wraps, Y/N. We couldn’t risk word getting out… not after what happened with S.H.I.E.L.D. We couldn’t have another Hydra situation, or anything that even looked like it.”

He paused, the tension in his jaw tightening. “It turns out her plan was to isolate me. To make me even more vulnerable than I already am, before they…” His words faltered, heavy and incomplete, as if finishing the sentence would make it all too real. 

But he didn’t need to say more. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, the realisation clear in her expression. She was smart; too smart not to piece it together. She knew what Bucky feared most. He’d be dragged back into Hydra’s grasp, or worse, used as a pawn by some other twisted organisation. 

It was a fate too cruel to name, and he could see in her eyes that she already understood.

Her brow furrowed, processing everything Bucky had explained thus far. A mixture of confusion and anger flitting across her features. “So that was it?” she demanded. “I was just collateral damage?”

“No,” he said quickly, the word breaking from him like a plea. “No. It wasn’t like that. I wanted to protect you. We all did.” He hesitated, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “I did.”

She scoffed, a bitter edge cutting through her words. “Unbelievable. I smiled at you one time, James—one time—and you think you can just come back into my life like you own it?”

The accusation hung between them, and the depth of her frustration was like a dam bursting. He recoiled slightly, horrified by the thought that he’d hurt her so deeply. “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not what this is. I didn’t want to just—”

She cut him off with a sharp, biting word. “Bullshit!” The accusation hit him like a physical blow, but he pressed on, desperation bleeding into his tone. “I just wanted to tell you the truth,” he said, his voice tight with urgency. “That it was all fake.”

“Fake?” She echoed the word with a harsh, bitter laugh that rang with disbelief. It stung him, sharp as a slap across the face. “It looked pretty damn real to me, James. You don’t think I saw the pictures? The headlines? How you were with her?”

“It was a cover, Y/N. I didn’t have a choice.”

Her eyes flashed, anger and betrayal burning bright. She took a step toward him, as if the weight of her hurt couldn’t be contained. “You didn’t have a choice? You had a choice when you came to me, when you told me it was over. When you ripped my heart out, did you have a choice then?”

Bucky flinched, the impact of her words like a physical blow, but he held his ground. “I was trying to protect you.”

“By hurting me?” Her voice cracked, raw and trembling. “By tearing me apart?”

Silence crashed over them, heavy and suffocating. Her chest heaved, each breath ragged. “By leaving me behind?” she whispered, her words dripping with the weight of every unspoken wound. “By pretending like what we had meant nothing?”

He stepped closer, the space between them suffocating and electric. “It wasn’t nothing,” he said, his voice quivering. “It was everything. You were everything.”

She shook her head, tears slipping down her cheeks unchecked. “I don’t believe you.”

With a trembling hand, Bucky reached for her face, cupping her cheeks as though she were something fragile. His thumb brushed away her tears, his touch reverent, aching. “I love you, Y/N,” he breathed, the confession breaking through the dam of his restraint. “From the start, when we laughed about that ridiculous introduction; me, calling myself the Winter Soldier and you insisting I was an Avenger—I knew it then.”

He swallowed hard, blinking through tears. “But it wasn’t just that. It was how you saw me; not the killer, not the broken man, but me. The way you’d smile at me, like I was worth something. The nights you stayed awake, holding me when I couldn’t breathe, when the nightmares felt too real. The way you’d whisper that I wasn’t alone. No one ever did that for me. No one.”

He paused, the rawness in his expression deepening. “I knew it was too late when I realized I’d been in love with you for a while. It hit me that day at Sally’s, remember?” His voice grew softer, distant with memory. “It was spring. You wore that sundress you bragged about getting for next to nothing at a thrift store. The sunlight made your hair glow, and you laughed at something ridiculous; a dog chasing bubbles, I think. I couldn’t stop looking at you. It wasn’t just the dress or the moment. It was the way you made everything feel… lighter. Like I could breathe again. Like the past didn’t own me.”

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb tracing along her jawline. “I realized then that I was in deep. That it was more than just a moment. And it terrified me, because I thought I’d ruin it. Ruin you.” His voice cracked, weighted with a mix of love and regret.

His shoulders shook as he let out a ragged breath, the tears spilling over. “It’s the way you laugh, the way you fight for everyone you care about. How you make me feel like I’m more than my past… God, I tried so hard to keep you safe. Even if it meant pushing you away. But it killed me, Y/N. Every day.”

She stared at him, stunned and raw, her own tears falling. His hands cradled her face gently, his touch trembling. “I love you,” he said again, more desperately. “I love you for every moment you gave me hope when I thought I couldn’t be saved. I love you for being there, even when I didn’t deserve it. And I don’t want to lose you again.”

He leaned in, their faces inches apart, his tears mixing with hers as he whispered, “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

She closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her, feeling the sincerity in every broken syllable. For a heartbeat, it seemed she would turn away. But then, her voice cracked, trembling with everything she’d buried. “I love you too,” she breathed, voice shaking. “I never stopped.”

His forehead touched hers, their breaths mingling, raw and vulnerable. Slowly, their lips met, soft at first, then deeper, a kiss that spoke of everything they had denied and everything they still longed for. In each other’s touch, everything else faded, leaving only the truth between them.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: i was planning to do a descriptive smut scene at first, but after piecing everything from my draft and re-reading the overall flow, i don't think it's suitable to include it in this. perhaps another time, a side/extra story maybe. i hope y'all okay with that and enjoy your reading 🥺

[seresinhangmanjake]

Super Soft!Simon Riley x reader - You're terrified that Simon's not making safe choices when he's on deployment, so he comforts you. (fluff, allusion to future smut (barely), drunk johnny, cod inaccuracies)

Johnny recounts the tale of their hard-earned achievement—a victory, as they have deemed it—with a number of beers in his system that you’ve long stopped counting. As he sits at your kitchen table, he is looser, giddier, freer with his words, and spares no detail of your boyfriend’s selfless acts of bravery during their last deployment. Acts that got him shot at; one of those bullets finding their home.

You’d be proud of him, if not for the fear that built up over months from recurring nightmares and an overactive imagination—all of which had you losing the love of your life. But that’s not out of character. You think about yourself, you think about your boyfriend, before you think about the lives he saves when he’s away from you. Maybe it’s wrong, or unfair, but you can’t help it.

While Simon’s work is not something he ever kept secret, you don’t need the reminder that the preservation of his life is not always his priority. It can't be. There are other factors that dictate his future. He has a team, people who depend on him. He has responsibilities and orders to follow. Control is often snatched from his fingertips. And so, what does that mean for the two of you? 

You don’t care to think about it. Not tonight. Not at midnight from a friend who should have passed out on your couch hours ago. So you stretch, yawn, and excuse yourself for bed before your brain implodes from any more of Johnny’s ramblings.

Simon knows. He spent the night squeezing your hip each time you tensed in his lap at Johnny’s words, and now, as you stand to head to the bedroom, he holds onto your hand until your fingers slip from his. Deep brown eyes are filled with guilt and apology and all you can offer in return is a slight upturn of the lips that barely qualifies as a smile.

Away from the men, you cry in your and Simon’s shared bed, waiting for him to encourage Johnny to the couch. There's a few more loud laughs, a whine when Simon cuts off his friend's alcohol supply, and then a final groan of acceptance as you hear the springs of your couch squeak under the weight of a muscled body. It’s only when the animated snores of your drunk friend reach your ears that the door to your room creaks on its hinges.

Simon’s footsteps are thumps muffled by carpeting. From your peripherals you see him shed his clothes as he moves to you. Shoes, then t-shirt, then jeans, until he's in his underwear and settling onto the mattress behind you. 

His arm slips under yours around your waist and he tugs your back to his chest, into the cocoon of warmth. 

“Do you know what I thought when I first saw you?” he asks, gruff and thick. His voice rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your spine as his breath brushes your ear. “That my life is over.

“Everything I want, everything I need—none of it matters anymore. All because of one look at a woman who was too busy with her friends to notice me,” he says. “I thought, I'm ruined now. If you leave this bar right this second, I won't be able to forget you. And if you don't leave, I can't ever let you go. I didn't know your name and you had me ready to change my whole world for you.”

You sniffle but don't bother to wipe away the tear that escapes. “That's insane, Si,” you whisper.

“It is,” he agrees, pressing a kiss just under your ear. “But it happened. I let you in and you latched on to my entire existence like this beautiful, little parasite. Just like I wanted you to. My life ended and it became our life. 

“I don't take a single step without considering you. Not here and not there. So if you think I don't try to be careful when I'm gone, you're wrong,” he tells you. “I try for you. I try for us.”

Yet, ‘trying’ means he still gets injured; he gets another circular scar to add to the healed knife slashes and the burned patch on his upper arm. ‘Trying’ is not always about picking the safer of two options, but about optimizing luck, which is rare enough as it is. And that terrifies you.

“What if you step wrong not knowing that it's wrong?” you ask. “What if you think it's right and then you're gone? You can't tell me that will never happen.”

Simon sighs. “No, I can't. But you trust me, don't you?”

Turning in his arms—your nose nearly nudging his—you place your hand on his cheek and run your thumb along his cheekbone. “Of course I do.”

“Then don't mourn me while I'm still here, love,” he breathes against your lips. “Can you do that for me?”

You nod, because you’d do anything for him. 

“Good girl.” Simon smiles lightly and slides his palm from your back down the length of your arm. He squeezes your fingers, then moves further, tucking his hand into the front of your underwear. “My girl,” he whispers and presses his lips to yours.

A/N: i dont usually write different stuff but i felt like it so i did

[sunnynwanda]

Hero groans, peeling their eyes open. The world is upside down and swaying, red lights flashing around them. They try to take a deep breath, but their ribcage hurts like a bitch, ripping a strangled moan from their dry lips. Pain pulses through every little nerve in their body, the damp air making their nostrils flare and toes curl.

Hero grits their teeth, taking several shallow breaths to calm themself and focus. They try to turn around, but the chains around their middle forbid the movement, their back flush against something. Or someone.

Villain.

They finally register that they're chained back to back and hanging upside down. This could only mean one thing - they know. And whoever they are doesn't matter because Hero and Villain are screwed regardless. They got caught, and judging by the fact that Villain is chained up too - this won't end well. Before they can think of any way out, a choked whimper tears from Villain's throat, making Hero's entire body shudder.

"Shh, you're okay," they try to sound as confident as possible even though they cannot see what state Villain is in. Something tells them it's for the better that they can't. "You're okay. I'm here."

"How is that any better?" Villain croaks out, struggling against the restraints. Hero stills, gulping thickly. They need to think of a solution, and they need it now.

"At least you're not alone?" Hero suggests in an attempt to sound lighthearted - all the while searching for ways to get out before Villain starts losing it.

"I'd much rather have you come to save me, not be trapped here with me," Villain comments in a deadpan voice. Hero chuckles, leaning their head back against Villain's shoulder.

"Too bad I cannot breathe without you right by my side then," they smile, keeping their voice soft despite the physically straining position. Their head is threatening to explode, pulse pounding against their temples.

"Not the time, Hero," Villain would glare at them given a chance. Or yell at the gods above and curse fate for creating Hero the way they are and having them fall for the worst option possible. The worst option being Villain.

"It's always the time to be romantic," Hero counters, trying to diffuse the tension. They search for Villain's hand and interlock their fingers, squeezing them for grounding.

"All I see is red lights..." Villain groans, a rumbling sound flooding their hearing. They can feel the vibration in their bones, the power surging in their chest, blocking their throat.

"Vil, close your eyes," Hero says, their demeanour shifting to pure urgency - they need to move fast. "You hear me?"

Villain obliges, closing their eyes to dissociate from the flashing lights, the colour evoking the primal rage within them. They don't want to let it flow, especially not with Hero nearby.

"Who is it?" Hero asks in a doomed attempt at distraction. "Your agency or mine?" They press back, hoping that the full-body contact will tame the beast that is their secret lover. Well, it's not so hidden anymore, it seems.

"Both," they can sense the difference in Villain's voice, their tone having gone from concerned to eerily serene. "I... need you to hold me back," Villain mutters under their breath. "They won't survive me."

"I know, baby," Hero finally manages to free a hand, now working faster, frantic in the face of the impending catastrophe. "Give me a second. I'll get you out..."

"I'm losing..." Villain pleads, their eyes filling with tears until they drip over their cheeks, leaving watery trails behind.

"No, no," Hero protests, lifting themself up to loosen the chains around their ankles. Their body drops to the ground with a loud thud, the fall rattling their broken - and most likely dislocated - ribs. They spring to their feet, glancing around for means to free Villain. "I'm here.. Come on, we gotta get out of here."

Hero gently lowers them to the ground before lifting them to their feet and draping Villain's arm over their shoulders. Just as they are about to escape, the door swings open, allowing a group of both their former teammates to flood the place.

Villain's eyes widen in pure terror - except it's not fear for their life. Oh, no. It's fear of the damage they can inflict. The harm they can do once they...

Too late.

"I've already lost control," Villain mutters, their lips shaking uncontrollably. They try to pull away when Hero's hand wraps around their neck, forcing them to meet their gaze. But this time around, Hero doesn't try to hold them back. They don't try to stop or control the vicious force lurking beneath the surface. Instead, they caress Villain's face in a tender gesture before whispering with a tinge of twisted pleasure. "Wreck them."

Masterlist

A/N: Hi loves!

Today's my birthday so I figured I should do something for my favourite bunch xD Consider this an appreciation story because I am extremely thankful for this community in general and our little bubble that we've established here 🙏

Thank you for spending your time on something that means so much to me. Thank you for the love and support you offer me every day. Simply thank you.

Love you 💛☀️

xo Sunny

Taglist: @marvellousdaisy@alltimelowing@lateuplight@surplus-of-sarcasm@betwist @excusemeasibangmyheadonawall @enemies-to-idiots-to-lovers @miaowmelodie @thatonerandomauthor @hhabaddon @burningoutlikeicarus @daemonvatis @weepingcowboywolfbat @thelazywitchphotographer @kaiwewi @soul-of-a-local-bard @pigeonwhumps @aflyingsheepnamedrose @thatneptune @ohwellthatslifesstuff @worldsfromhoney @thiefofthecrowns @crow-with-a-typewriter @qualityrabbitsoup @stargeode @villain-life @villainsblood @whumpifi @glassthedumbass @silviathebard @misskowe @ayeshaturnedtoashes4444

@m4iloblu3 @silky-worm @doctorsawyer @philosophershroom

[samieree]

Banished Heimdall x Reader (Goddess of Nature)

(Request from wattpad) The part where Kratos spared Heimdall. Well let's say he did spare him and he came back to Odin to report what happened but the gjallarhorn was stolen and Odin banished him to Midgard and did the same spell like Freya had. And for years being stuck in Midgard, there he meet the reader who is actually the Goddess/Mother Nature, melting the snows and creating flowers for the end of Fimbulwinter.

~

Several years have passed since Odin banished Heimdall to Midgard for losing the Gjallarhorn. But he still didn't accept this fact, and exile did not soften his character at all. The winter didn't help much either. Luckily it was finally coming to an end.

Heimdall was tired of wearing thick fur. He definitely preferred the climate in Asgard, his clothes and peace there. And now he had to take care of himself, and it was driving him crazy. Especially at the beginning, ugh... He doesn't even want to think about it. He shouldn't live in the past.

He was just coming back to his house, grumbling about how he hates this world and this winter better be over because... Okay, he doesn't know what he's going to do, but it better be the end of this cold weather. Though... Then he'd have to boat across Lake of Nine and row, so maybe the cold wasn't so bad after all...

"Stop!" He heard a scream but ignored it. He continued walking forward, still focused on complaining. At least until some vines suddenly sprouted from the ground in front of him. "Are you deaf?"

"Are you looking for trouble?" Irritated, he turned to the place where the voice came from and was clearly surprised.

You were standing a few feet in front of him. With a slight smile on your face, dressed in a fairly light outfit, considering the weather. But... The aura around you looked like spring. Your hands emanated pleasant magic, and the smile itself seemed to melt the snow that was no longer around you at all. Nature was beginning to come back to life, green grass sprouted from under the snow, and the scent of flowers slowly began to fill the air.

You've met each other before, when he happened to be on a mission in Midgard. And it seemed like your character has stayed the same ever since. And he won't admit it, but... The aura you spread around you calmed him down and warmed his heart.

"Be careful, don't step on my flowers." You said, drawing back the vines that were blocking his path. You just finished that meadow and it was about to get trampled by some bitter guy.

"Do you really think I care?" Okay, maybe not the usual bitter guy, because as he turned to walk away you saw his shining eyes. And you've only known one person with eyes like that - other than einherjers, but they've been gone for a while.

So it had to be Heimdall. Very dissatisfied with having to be where he is.

"Respect nature and it will respect you." You followed him, and with you spring aura, letting the world know that it's time to wake up from winter sleep.

"I don't need it. Go plant your flowers elsewhere."

"I seem to have planted quite a few around your house. I thought there were some people living there, otherwise I probably wouldn't be so nice." You said half-jokingly, clearing the snowdrifts from your path with one snap of your finger.

"You did- WHAT?! Who asked you for this?!"

"Do you have to ask for gifts?" You replied, tilting your head slightly and aligning your step with him. "I don't think that's what it's about..." You smiled and extended your hand towards him with a flower in your hand.

"I don't want any weeds." He took off his coat and draped it over his shoulder as it was actually starting to get warm.

You rolled your eyes at those words and ran in front of him, now walking backwards but facing him. You were still holding a beautiful flower in your hands, flower with large, white petals for now.

"Look." You ran your free hand over the flower and its petals began to change colour. In shades of pink, purple and blue. Its stem took on a white colour with golden accents. You smiled wider and extended your hand to him, offering this newly created plant. "Here, this is for you. It looks like you." Heimdall stopped suddenly, and so did you.

No one has ever been so insistent about giving him a gift. In general, no one ever even wanted to give him a gift... It was even... A nice feeling.

In order not to lose his image, he sighed a martyrdom before taking the plant from you, the petals of which matched the colours of his eyes. As he took the flower, your hands touched for a moment. Your skin was very smooth and radiated a warmth Heimdall didn't know, but he could tell with certainty that it was pleasant.

"And what am I supposed to do with it?" He asked, examining the plant carefully.

"Plant. Need help?" You asked as you started walking back towards Heimdall's house. "You could plant a vegetable garden. Oh, or orchard!" You smiled at that thought. Walking with him towards his house, you kept doing your job along the way, here and there stimulating more plants to grow.

"Do I look like a gardener to you?" He grunted, his eyes focused on the flower. This small gesture somehow warmed his heart, which was especially aching after the things that had happened to him.

"I'd help you." You suggested. "Of course, when I'm done with spring." You added, walking over to him.

You reached your hand towards his face, but he immediately pulled away. He knew what you wanted to do and he absolutely did not want to let it happen. I will look like an idiot. You froze with your hand next to his face.

"What a favour from Y/n, the great goddess of nature." He said it with a hint of mockery in his voice. "Why do you want to help me?"

"I have a soft spot for things that need fixing." You said honestly. He would know anyway if you lied.

"I'm not broken."

"Aren't you?"

Isn't he? He didn't know himself. And what does a not broken person look like? Behaves? Lives?

He was always lonely, even when he was surrounded by people. Even if he was in bed with someone, even if there was a family meeting. He always felt alone, as if no one cared about him, he meant nothing to anyone and the only value he had was what he was doing for his world. And now he didn't even have that. He lived from day to day, but he had no purpose. He just existed.

He sighed softly, then nodded slightly. After that small gesture, you gave him another warm smile and finally moved your hand. You touched his hair and tucked a flower like the one you gave him behind his ear.

"It suits you." You said, placing your hand on his cheek for a moment longer and it cost him all his stubbornness not to snuggle into it and it's warmth.

The warmth of sincere sympathy, caring, interest. Something he had never known, and it was an unfamiliar but pleasant feeling. And maybe, just maybe, he would like to experience it even more.

"Like a wreath suits a cow." He grunted, but there was no such obvious malice in his voice. "Can we go now or are you going to put so much weed in my hair that I'll never get it out?" Saying this, he started walking towards his house again and you followed him.

"I'll take them out, you don't have to worry." You said.

"Oh, and you think that I'm going to let you do that?"

"If you let me put a flower in your hair, you'll let me take it out." You answered with a wide smile, walking with him arm in arm and spreading your spring aura around you here and there.

Damn, she's right.

~

-> general masterlist -> God of War: Ragnarök masterlist

[alicerosejensen]

Just angst written for a sad composition. I'm too depressed to write something funny😔

I've been crying a lot lately, so I pour out my pain in text.

warning: angst; reader's death; Leon suffers again; No happy ending; fem/reader

I am a delicate gentle nature. Physically weak, so the reader is anyone but not a DSO agent. It does not say the cause of death, so everyone invents for himself.

English is not my native language, but if you liked the test, let me know that everything is not so bad with my translation. It looks different in the original, but I spend too much time looking for the right words in English.

You were always beautiful. But now, to the disgusting gnashing in his chest, twisting the most cruel pain out of his lungs, Leon did not want to see your dead beauty. This bomb in Washington where his entire squad was killed, and then... you. All his precious love, which he so cherished and protected, lies before him. His cumin, sandalwood, spring rose that withered too quickly. An angel who decided to return to heaven...

All white and silk. The long sleeves of the dress would completely cover your velvet arms, if they were not placed on your stomach, and you are all surrounded by fragrant flowers - roses and lilies. Hair, combed and loose, neatly laid on the pillow, perfectly complements the look. Soon you will be sleeping in the dry earth, and not walking around his apartment in lace. You won't wake up in his bed anymore and Leon won't pull you in for a teasing kiss.

What is left for him now? Remember your facial features until strong alcohol erases them from his memory? And it's almost obscene to die so young...

"My sweet girl... you too cruel to me"

If you knew how much pain your leaving brings him, you would have stayed with him longer. Dear angel given to the desecration of a cruel fate. Leon touches a cold palm, but it seems warm to him, his eyes are attentively following your face, hoping to catch a spark of emotion in this lifeless powdered marble, but you continue to sleep soundly. There is no pulse. trembling fingers wrap around your thin wrist, searching for the gold chain of your bracelet, making Leon's heart creak uncomfortably.

Your light was his strength. As if a long presence in his life helped the gentle sprouts of trust and a calm life to break through the stones of lived horrors.

Leon is still holding on to your hand like a drowning man holding onto a lifeline, but what's the point of holding on to someone who will never return? In fact, he is so tired ... flecks of tears shine in the corners of his eyes, but no one notices them. A new wave of despair covers him, pulling him into the deep sea to the very depths, from where it is already impossible to get out. Being non-religious, Leon now remembers all those angels that his mother once told him about as a child. A barely living echo of childhood slips through the mind, echoing back to real life. It seems that you really were one of those whom he so wanted to see when you were a boy, and now you are just a sleeping beauty who will not be awakened by any kiss from a handsome prince.

But the worst thing is not your dead body in front of him, but these dreams that will torment him at night not letting him forget about you, constantly returning on black wings and slowly pecking at the soul like vultures.

"Come on, princess, have pity on me..."

But you don't get up. If he had the strength, he would have pulled you out of that wooden box, but what's the point? Leon is tired of scrubbing the shit out of himself, but something inside is always breaking. Constantly he loses those he values most in the world, as if everything he touches turns to ashes. He want to get back in the car, open the glove compartment and come back to you only to put a bullet in temple and fall on your chest. Something inside Leon dies again with such new strength that his own body can not stand it. Leon doesn't cry, though a scream of hatred constricts his throat. Why are you lying here and not in your common house?! Why are you silent instead of laughing?! Why, despite all the vows given to him … left him. All emotions are completely destroyed, only you are in front of him like a nameless statue of a talented sculptor. He found refuge in your heart, listened to his beating at night, and now there is only a faint smell of your things that will soon completely disappear and everything that now reminds you of you will also leave him. Leon strokes your hair - it is no longer so silky and shiny and kisses each finger, clasping your thin palm with both hands.

For a second it seemed to him that your eyelashes trembled. Just one moment before someone puts a hand on his shoulder, causing him to grit his teeth. He had your unfinished books at home, a list of films that you planned to watch together, but instead he preferred to get drunk in a bar and feel sorry for himself. Now he will have enough time for this activity.

Leon feels like a nobody. A walking shadow with a heart pierced through and through, from where blood flows in an inexhaustible stream. He lied to you chewing the words "I love you" soaking them with caustic poison and lost meaning. Because if he loved you… he would never let that happen. Idiot … he would now be lying next to you, inhaling your scent and kissing every inch of skin, every mole, every small scar.

Your death killed two, but they mourn you, they sing a serene dirge, seeing you off, as it were, from this dirty and ugly world to another. Cleaner and brighter where you are and a place where you do not need to worry about the safety of life.

This suit he's wearing: black - Leon hates black - buttoned up, pulled tight to strangle himself, and deep despair.

In his memory you are always warm, joyful, beating in euphoria from your small victories. Always beautiful, with a beautiful voice and beautiful dreams that Leon didn't deserve. He will have only a marble headstone, from which he will shake off fallen leaves, bringing you fresh flowers..

He didn't deserve you. But no other woman, not even Ada, can take your place. You left, but his love for you remained, something that supported him in all his missions.

Bitter irony, today is the day of your funeral, and Leon has not yet drunk, although there is already a drunken fog in his head. All he's afraid of right now is that you won't be waiting for him on the other side. He removes the other hand from his shoulder, pulls out of his pocket a small, completely unremarkable silver ring - it's more like a belated request to share the rest of his disgusting life with him, making her a little happier - and puts it on your ring finger, then carefully puts his hand back on the stomach.

You will not share your life with him. And he really shouldn't have put the ring on you because Leon didn't have time to propose. He bought the simplest immediately after returning from New York, deciding that later you yourself would choose what you like best in the jewelry store and already wanted to return home when the bell rang, once again crossed out all his hopes.

"Always a bride and never a wife."

Cruel, but you did worse to him. Three days ago, he would have killed anyone who would cause you to cry, and now you yourself have become the cause of his tears. Him and many others who mourned you.

However, you really looked like a bride. Leon can't help but smile before he says goodbye to you forever. No, you did not take pity on him, did not open your eyes, but he could never be angry with you for a long time. Even now, when everything is tearing him apart, Leon just touches your cheek.

He loved you... so even if your scent starts to fade from pillows and clothes, he will still have your picture. A little reminder of who has always been waiting for him. The bitter amber liquid in a glass may drown out your voice in his head, the image of you, but this shabby photo will always be with him, no matter how much time passes before a new scar appears on his heart.

So the lid of the coffin is forever closed. You disappear into the darkness, although Leon knows (or just wants to believe) that you have long been somewhere beyond the sun. Therefore, today it is not raining and there are no clouds. Streaks of light fall on Leon's face and hair as you go underground, and he thinks you're next to him, resting his chin on his shoulder, the way you always liked to do when he was busy with paperwork. That crystalline hope is the last thing he has left, so he doesn't stay behind to make a moving speech. He doesn't have to say anything, and there's no point in muttering apologies anymore, so...

"Sleep well princess. Maybe I'll go to bed with you soon too."

Because Leon no longer knows how much strength he will have to fight all this.

[littlest-w01f]

Flowers

Cassian x Evelyn (my oc, Tamlin's sister) (See Evie here)

For @cassianappreciationweek

Cassian week 2024 Masterlist

Day 2: Hair

Summary: Cassian lets Evelyn have a go at his hair to have a matching hairstyle to their family dinner.

Cw: Shameless flirty Cassian

Evelyn sat at her vanity table in her room in the Riverhouse, setting up some combs and oils, waiting for Cassian to knock on her door so that she could do his hair.

A soft knock echoed through the quiet house as Cassian stood outside Evelyn's bedroom door, anticipation swirling within him like the wind in the treetops. He wore only a pair of loose pants that hung low on his hips, leaving his muscular torso bare. The warm glow of the moonlight cast shadows over his chiselled abs and broad shoulders, highlighting the ink etched into his skin.

He'd spent hours in the garden earlier that day, sitting alongside Evelyn when she had asked, he was surprised at the fact that she could make it so her flowers didn't get him itchy and clog his nose. The earthy scent still lingered on his skin, mingling with the sweet aroma of the lavender soap he'd used to wash away the sweat from his training. His black hair was messily tied half up in a bun, strands escaping to fall onto his forehead.

Cassian knocked against the wooden door again, his knuckles echoing in the silence. Wings flexed slightly as he stood in the halls, waiting on her.

Evelyn opened the door and rolled her eyes at Cassian leaning on the door, smirking, "Of course you would come here shirtless..." She smiled at the gentle shrug of Cassian's shoulders, "You better hope Rhys isn't around. He gets very jealous you know."

Cassian chuckled softly, his deep voice rumbling through his chest. "Ah, Evelyn, Princess Spring... always with a line of suitors for her." His smirk widened as he pushed off the door, stepping into the room. "You're right though, it wouldn't be wise to cross paths with your other suitor tonight."

Evelyn scoffed lightly, "I don't have 'sutors'." She made quotation marks with her fingers at the word.

"Oh really?" Cassian raised his brows, "Let's see, Lucien... Rhysand... Tarquin... Of course, me... And-"

"Fine you make your point. Now shush." Evelyn cuts him off, pulling him inside.

Cassian chuckled softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. He moved to stand in front of Evelyn's mirror, giving her a full view of his muscular body.

"Oh, don't worry," he said, running a hand through his unruly hair, "Rhys is currently out with Azriel on business. They won't be back until late tonight." His eyes met hers in the reflection of the mirror, a playful glint evident in their depths. "So we have all the time in the world for you to enjoy my beautiful body, Evie."

Evelyn snorted at his words, but smiled at their little idea, Cassian had finally agreed to let Evelyn style his hair, letting her have a go at him, simply wanting to piss Rhysand off when he saw them.

Without warning, he turned to face Evelyn fully, arms folded across his chest as he studied her intently. His gaze slid down her form appreciatively before returning to meet hers once more. "You're looking particularly lovely tonight, Evie." He sat down in her chair, his wing curled around him to give her more space to work with.

Evelyn blushed under his compliment, she was wearing a simple green dress, but Cassian seemed to appreciate it. "Well, thank you. You aren't too shabby yourself."

She reached for the comb, getting to work on his hair, starting by undoing his messy bun and running her fingers through his thick locks, letting them cascade down his back, checking for knots.

"I'm just glad you finally let me touch your hair," Evelyn joked as she started combing up from his ends.

Cassian leaned forward, bracing his hands on either side of the vanity, giving Evelyn ample space to work around him. The sight of his muscular back, decorated with intricate tattoos, was a feast for the eyes. A slight pride swelled in his chest as he felt her gaze trailing over him.

"I must say, I've been looking forward to this," he admitted, turning his head to look at her over his shoulder. His hazel eyes held a teasing sparkle. "It's been quite a while since anyone has tended to my hair."

"Look forward!" Evelyn laughed softly, turning his head, "Well, considering how often you get your hair done, I'm surprised you haven't asked before."

Evelyn gave a soft chuckle as Cassian sat fully relaxed in the seat, feeling a sense of accomplishment as she started braiding his hair. "Don't get too comfortable there, General. This isn't going to take all night."

But even as she spoke, she couldn't hide the affectionate smile playing on her lips. She admired how well he took care of himself and especially appreciated his willingness to indulge her whims, specifically when it came to his appearance.

Cassian closed his eyes as Evelyn ran the comb through his hair, a sigh of contentment slipping past his lips. "You know I've never been one to seek attention, Evie. It's always been you who initiates these little games."

"Sure," Evelyn rolled her eyes, knowing it wasn't true. "I'm all over you."

He tilted his head to give her better access to the nape of his neck, his muscles rippling beneath his skin. Her gentle touch sent pleasant shivers coursing down his spine, causing him to lean back further into her ministrations.

"And besides," He added with a teasing lilt to his voice, "I didn't want to spoil the surprise for Rhys. I'm sure he'll be quite… Displeased when he sees us later tonight. Might even try to kill me."

"You really think Rhys will be so jealous over something as trivial as matching hairstyles?" Evelyn smiled softly, focusing on making little braids in his hair.

Cassian chuckled, the rich sound vibrating through his chest. "Oh, I don't know about trivial, Evie. But Rhysie does have a rather possessive streak when it comes to you."

His gaze drifted over to where she was working from the mirror, watching her deft fingers weave through his hair with an artist's precision. The sight was oddly comforting, soothing the restless energy that often bubbled beneath his surface.

"And besides," he added with a playful wink, "it's not every day that I allow someone else to style my hair. I believe it's high time Rhysie learns that he's not the only one who can steal your breath away."

"Oh, Cassian..." Evelyn's voice dripped with sarcasm, "You take my breath away so fast that I die... Sometimes."

Cassian chuckled, the rich sound echoing in the quiet room. "Oh, Evie," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "You're always so good at playing coy."

He turned to face her fully, folding his arms across his bare chest as he studied her intently, half braids a mess on his head. His gaze dropped down to her lips, lingering there for a moment before meeting her eyes once more.

"But I suppose it's part of what makes you so charming." Leaning closer, he brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. "And it certainly doesn't hurt that you're absolutely stunning."

Evelyn tugged at his hair forcefully, making him turn again with a yelp, as she turned the braids, making flowers out of them to match hers, "Shut it..." She whispered.

"Don't tell me you're upset because I'm too charming," he teased, shooting her a mischievous glance. "I promise to be less irresistible if it means I can continue to see those beautiful green eyes of yours."

"How can a male be so shameless?" Evelyn snorts softly, "Is it the Illyrian in you?"

Cassian merely flashed a smug grin at her, the arrogance in his bearing undeniable. There was something about being around Evelyn that managed to bring out an even more insufferably cocky side.

Cassian shrugged, a lazy grin spreading across his lips. "Perhaps it's a bit of both. But I'd like to think it's mostly due to my inherent charm."

He watched her closely as she continued to style his hair, enjoying the way her fingers danced through his locks. There was something undeniably pampering about having another person tend to him like this.

As Evelyn pinned the last section of his hair in place, Cassian turned to study their reflection in the mirror. A pleased hum rumbled in his chest as he saw the two of them side by side, hairstyles matching even if hers was longer.

"Well," he mused, reaching up to feel the softness of his own hair against his fingers. "I must admit, Evie. Your handiwork is rather impressive. And it seems we make quite the striking pair."

Turning away from the mirror, he offered her a playful wink. "Now, shall we make our grand entrance? Or do you plan to keep me sitting here all night, admiring myself?"

"Put some clothes on first," Evelyn rolled her eyes pulling him off her chair, she squealed as Cassian lifted her up, twirling her around.

Cassian laughed softly, pecking her cheek as he set her down, "Fine... Fine."

As he stepped out of her room and into the corridor, he slipped his hand into hers, weaving their fingers together effortlessly. His grip was firm yet gentle, just like everything else about him, giving her a gentle squeeze.

"If Rhys beats you up, I'm not helping you." Cassian laughed heartily at Evelyn's words.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

[mac-lilly]

"I don't really know how to dance..." || "It's never too late to learn" for Juke please.

Ha! It's been months, but I finally managed to finish this prompt.

It's a snippet from a future chapter of my arranged marriage Juke AU which I'll probably won't finish. But I wanted to get this scene done, and the prompt worked perfectly for it.

Happy Juke Jeudi!!!

“May I have this dance, Princess?”

Julie blinks hard. Surely, she misheard him. Surely, he didn’t ask her to …

But Luke’s hand is outstretched. He’s smiling at her. An unspoken invite.

Julie hesitates.

They have danced before. Of course, they have. They are married. It’s protocol. But their marriage is just a façade. It’s an agreement to maintain the truce between their countries. It’s not about love. It’s not even about friendship.

And yet …

It’s almost funny how being stranded in the middle of nowhere, chased by assassins, changes one’s perspective.

“Why?” Julie blurts out. Her hands twist the skirts of her dress. Suddenly, she’s feeling nervous. 

Luke shrugs. “Because we’re the only ones who aren’t dancing. People are watching.”

Julie looks around. Luke’s partially right. They are indeed the only ones who aren’t participating. It’s the day of the spring equinox, and the festivities are in full swing. They reached the settlement this morning and, after being generous with silverlings, they’ve been welcomed to join tonight’s spectacle.

The whole village has gathered in the central square. It’s a flurry of excitement. There’s music, and drinks, and frolicking. And in the middle of it sits a bonfire. The fire crackles, its sparks flying through the air like fireflies.

But Luke’s also wrong.

Nobody is paying them any attention. True, they’ve been invited to the celebration. But in the end, they’re strangers. Nobody cares about them.

Julie decides to humor him anyway.

“I don’t really know how to dance …”

Luke raises a doubtful brow. Touché.

Of course, Julie knows how to dance. But she doesn’t …

Julie swallows and looks around, observing the crowd. This is not like the balls she used to attend. The music is lively, the atmosphere jubilant, and the dances so very different from those court dances that were drilled into her all her life. 

“I don’t really know how to dance like this.” She used to. But that was a long time ago.

“It’s never too late to learn.“

Luke’s hand is still there. Julie hesitates once more. She really shouldn’t …

Uncertain, her eyes flicker to Luke’s. She’s greeted by nothing but warmth. The shine of the bonfire reflects on his eyes, and there’s no trace of forethought or malice. He’s genuine. Of course, he is. 

Julie trusts Luke. She has no reason not to. He could have abandoned her in the middle of the woods days ago. There is, of course, this nagging voice in her head, reminding her that he could still do exactly that. He could betray her. He could betray her the same way Trevor betrayed her. He could betray her the same way Bobby betrayed Luke.

It’s another thing that ties them together.

But all these thoughts are hypothetical. She won’t know for sure unless she tries.  

She takes a deep, shaky breath … and then places her hand in his.

For a moment, Julie marvels at the feel. The sensation of his calloused fingers pressing against her palm as he grips her hand. It makes her heart beat faster. Then she’s yanked forward. Julie lets out a surprised yelp that quickly becomes a giggle as Luke spins her around.

Luke leads, and Julie follows.

It’s different, and yet it’s easy. It’s exhilarating. It’s liberating.

She moves, and she skips.

She laughs, and she gasps.

She twirls, and she spins until her vision blurs. Until the world becomes a whirlwind of color. The crackling fire and the starry, midnight-blue sky and the cheering crowd – they’re just distorted blobs of color. Only Luke’s smile remains bright and clear and extremely captivating. And his lips.

She wonders …

Julie stills abruptly, and Luke, surprised, stumbles. On instinct, his arms fly around her body, gripping her waist to steady himself. Julie can’t say she minds.

“Something wrong?” he asks, slightly out of breath.

Julie doesn’t reply. Too enamored, she can’t take her eyes off his slightly parted lips. What if …

And then, her curiosity gets the better of her. She lifts a hand and raises it to his face until she can feel his breath against her skin. It hitches when her thumb brushes against the corner of his mouth. His fingers on her waist flex, then they gently dig into her flesh, urging her closer. Julie complies happily. Her heart is racing in her chest.

Julie stares.

Luke stares back.

And then his eyes flit to her lips, and Julie’s breathing quickens

And then he dips his head, and Julie’s heart leaps into her throat.

And then … he pauses! Julie almost groans in frustration.

Slowly, she rises on her toes. Her nose gently nudges his, encouraging him. 

He chuckles. “Bossy,” he says before he captures her lips with his.

Julie simply smiles into their kiss. 

[justarandomlambblog]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 [END]

you know how you don't adopt cats, cats adopt you? Well here we have Narinder adopting a dad

(I encourage you to view each page in a new tab, it's all sketch so you can see all my thought and build lines but I think it's clear enough?)

This is sort of a prologue for this AU I've talked about and is one of like... 3 or 4 parts

That horrible moment realization, regret and grief hits you all at the same time

I like long-furred Narinder I think he should embrace manbun life /kidding (unless... (/j/j))

Ignore the perspective issues on the last page I got very tired (am sick today) and I am a firm believer in doing things bad but having fun. That being said I had zero intention of making backgrounds for this and just generalizing everything but then I drew the crumbling ancient temple platform and the divine battleground and it was over I needed backgrounds from there on out-

Does the world of Cult of the Lamb have the same meaning for middle fingers? Who knows, I just thought it'd be funny for Narinder to double-flip off Lamb as he's disappearing into the teleportation stone. Don't @ me <3

I didn't want there to be any dialogue so I hope the story is clear through the pictures alone but if not, there's an explanation below the cut

After being defeated, Narinder finds himself on the indoctrination stone, the manacles still around his wrists and neck. The Lamb offers him mercy- a place to live. But Narinder refuses. He gets to his feet on his own and runs to the teleportation stone, and the Lamb is too surprised for a moment to realize what's happening. They try to stop him, knowing how injured Narinder is and that this stunt will only aggravate Narinder's wounds, but Narinder is running on anger, regret, humiliation and adrenaline- and he is much older than the Lamb is and knows more locations than the Lamb does. He knows about the long-fallen territory on the very edge of the Old Faith's land, what was once a grand city of gods having become a divine battlefield eons ago; it is the only place he can think to go, stumbling his way down the stairs that are much too big for his newly mortal form and running for the forest beyond the Old Faith's border.

Running through the old beaten paths of the forest, he trips and finds himself unable to pull himself back up, his adrenaline fading almost as soon as he hits the ground and the pain of his wounds flares up. He allows himself to fall unconscious, thinking maybe he will just quietly perish out there in the woods, but is found by an older canine passing through. Finding the injured Narinder, the old dog puts him on the cart he pulls and takes him to his home, tending to his wounds.

Narinder wakes up in pain, finding himself in a strange, unfamiliar place, and his savior brings him food. Narinder struggles, his hands shakey and everything in pain, but he is resistant at first to the old dog's aid. Over time, as the dog tends his wounds and gives him clothes to wear and changes his bandages, Narinder begins to accept his help and allows him to help exercise his limbs while he's bed bound and, eventually, help him to walk again. Months pass them by, from summer to autumn to winter until it's spring. The old dog is happy for Narinder's progress and gives Narinder a fond pat on his head, unintentionally reminding Narinder of Shamura.

In the spring, Narinder is able to walk on his own, though he uses a cane to aid him. He explores the old dog's home, since the dog isn't around as much as he used to be now that Narinder is mostly independent again. Narinder spots him out a window, tending to a garden, and steps outside to discover he's on a farm. It's a large farm, though not very bountiful; it's a wheat field, one that clearly suffers from the lack of a god's blessing- in a world of gods, a godless village can only just get by. Beyond the fields are more homes and sheds, and people tend the fields.

He joins the old dog in the garden after being invited over, and the dog gives him a flower bulb to plant. Narinder remembers when he and Leshy did this exact same thing, with Leshy showing Narinder how to plant the flower bulb in the dirt; as he gently buries it, he can feel Leshy's phantom hands over his own, as if guiding him. To Narinder's surprise, not only does the flower bloom as soon as it has been covered, but it spreads out; the garden bursts to life with the strange black and white flowers, and they grow wildly through and around the garden, reaching all the way to three graves under a solitary tree.

Narinder is looking at his hands in shock, not having expected to be able to do this; he had thought his magic was gone, the last vestiges of it used to activate the teleportation stone when he escaped. As he looks at them, the manacle around his neck falls off, landing in his hands, and begins to dissipate into residual magic, and he remembers Leshy- Leshy, pleading with him to hold his tongue, to give up on his newest, heretical ideas, that the world isn't ready to hear it and the consequences would be too great and the other Bishops wouldn't allow him to pursue it. Realizing all at once exactly what he lost- what he threw away when he refused to heed his brother's warnings and wait for the right time, when the world was ready- he breaks down, doubling over in tears- the first tears he's allowed himself for nearly a thousand years, now. Hurt from the betrayal, regret for what he did and made the Lamb do, grief for what his siblings did in fear of him- it all hits him at once.

The old dog reaches out to him, and Narinder clings to him, letting himself completely break down. The kind dog just holds him while he cries.

(Not shown: the old dog shows Narinder the shrine, explaining what it is and what the painted flat stones are for. He gives Narinder flat stones to paint and goes outside to speak to the graves of his own family, even though it's begun to rain.)

Narinder paints four stones, each one with a symbol on top that he associates with his siblings (a book for Shamura, a diamond crystal for Kallamar, stalks of wheat for Heket, and a camellia for Leshy). He doesn't really forgive them for their betrayal of him, doesn't forgive them for locking him away for a thousand years- but it soothes an ache deep inside, to accept that even if he can't forgive them he can mourn them and regret his part in all this. That despite everything there was still love- it's conflicting, but it's almost like... closure. Or, at least, the start of it.

He makes tea and offers it to the old dog when he comes inside, and they sit together and drink tea while listening to the rain. The four stones sit on the shrine now, with the dog's family's stones, cementing the fact that Narinder has accepted that he isn't leaving this house.

Thus, the old dog becomes the adopted father of a 5,000+ year old cat ex(?)-god.

[kaedahana]

the great war.

art by @ izeichan on Twitter

late night thought; have you ever missed someone you don't... know? i do. yes, inspired by the great war by T.S <3

CHARACTER : Kaedehara Kazuha - Reader

fluff? angst?

-UNEDITED-

You and Kazuha have never been happier to spend your whole spring and summer together until that one night.

ART NOT MINE

It was summer when Kazuha and you shared a long kiss under the vast night sky. The leaves were lively green and crickets were playing both of you a lullaby. Every day that summer you wished on every star that your name and his are etched together forever in the ether. Laying on the soft blanket that you made over the spring season as you stare into each other’s eyes. Mesmerized by one another. You can see eternity in his eyes. You closed your eyes, fingers intertwined with his. You thanked the archons to be blessed with this moment. Kazuha is in your arms, safe and sound.

But of course, fate plays a cruel game and flips your whole world in a matter of days. Standing in the doorway Kazuha looked at you grimly, as he held the letter crushing it and letting it fall onto the floor.

"You can't go," you whispered. Your being brimming with resentment, sadness and fear. They threaten to take over your body and wreck everything.

"I have to, they're calling me."

"You can't go!" you run a frustrated comb through your hair with your fingers, biting your lip trying not to cry. Looking away, hoping and hoping that this is all just a dream. That when the morning comes, you're gonna wake up to Kazuha lovingly kissing you. Spinning you in his arms. There’s no war to fight in. No bloodshed. No fear.

"I have no choice"

You walked to him, "What about me? You're going to leave me behind? You expect me to be okay?!" you shouted unable to hold it any longer, you fell to his legs and broke down. You sobbed harder when you can feel the never ending tears trailing down your face. You hugged his legs and begged for your future together.

"Darling, please don't. I-I can't live like this" you said between sobs, struggling to catch your breath.

Kazuha squat down to your level and embraced you. His heartbeat speaking to you in words he can't muster.

He only held a pinkie finger. linking it with yours. He brought your head close to his heart, hearing it go faster and louder. He kissed the crown of your head, smoothing your hair with his hand.

"I'll be back, it's a promise dear. I'll fight for you, I'll live for you and if I have to… I'd die for you"

Slowly the same green vibrant leaves turned into shades of red and orange as autumn rolls around. You stared at the maple orange leaf that landed on your hand, tracing the outlines of it. Your mind goes back to Kazuha, missing the pillow soft feeling of his lips, his slightly red cheeks, and the eyes that you love. You feel an unpleasant feeling in your stomach and continue to walk around the festival so you could distract yourself. Anything to get rid of the thoughts that maybe… he's gone.

"Darling!" a voice shouted from behind you.

Immediately, you looked back. Disappointment fills you up when you didn’t see him. You run a hand across your face, missing him terribly now. The poems. The teasing. The cute names he calls you. Him.

You recalled the last letter you got from him a month ago;

My dove,

I hope this letter finds you well. You've been on my mind and never left. You're the only shining star I need in this dark world, your glow is enough to illuminate my whole world .This room is silent but I can still hear your enchanting laugh. I close my eyes yet all I see is you my darling. I'm sorry it has to be this way, I miss you a lot. I would do anything in my power to close this dreadful gap of ours and be in your arms. The fate that brings people together is not a cord so easily cut. I love you with my whole heart, soul and mind.

-yours.

Children rushed past you with huge grins across their faces, daughters and sons dancing in the streets, lanterns illuminating the path ahead of you as darkness falls into the world. Even with people around you, you feel more lonely than ever.

You walked to the forestry area, shivering as the breeze blows past you. You stuffed your hands into the pockets of your coat. You find yourself humming the song Kazuha hummed the day he comforted you when he got the letter that took him away to war.

You spotted a pond away from the town and decided to dip your legs into the water.

The water was cold and the fishes were glowing in vibrant colours. Leaves swaying across the water. Your eyes stuck to the reflection of the moon in the water. Then you talked to the stars.

“Where are you? Are you safe? What did you eat? Today... the lantern festival in town is nothing without you. I need you back, please.” you pleaded with your whole heart, wringing every bit of hope into wishes.

Then warmth wrapped you up from behind, pulling you into a comforting embrace. The scent you inhaled, it’s ever so familiar it relaxes your body

“Just as I promised, darling” a voice whispered into your ear. Your heart going fast, is this a dream?

You turned your head and there he is, Kazuha. Your star-crossed lover. Your forever. Your eternity and beyond.

Tears spilt from your eyes as you squealed and wrapped your arms around his torso. He laughed wholeheartedly as both of you fell onto the ground with you on top of him. You took in the view of your lover. Handsome as ever with his abdomen tightly wrapped in bandages while his hanten hangs loosely on his shoulder. He offered you a reassuring smile.

"Am I going crazy or are you here?" You asked unable to believe that he's here. You can feel his warm breath fanning your cheeks. You can feel his soft skin against yours. You can hear his heart beating, yearning for yours. You lay beside him, resting your head on his bandaged arm. "Are you okay?" you whispered. He just nods, staring at you with so much love and bliss.

"You're beautiful," he said under his breath before pressing his lips against yours. His lips... soft on yours as he gently places his hands on your waist pulling you closer to his body. You glide your hands across his bare chest, letting it travel freely over his abs. He tugged on your hair as you withdraw to catch your breath. He hovered on top of you with his arms trapping you. He inhaled your scent from your neck and sighed in contentment.

"I almost forgot what you feel like" 

He raised his eyebrow at this, his eyes averting to your lips.

"Then let me remind you again"

So yes, fate is a cruel game but you couldn't care less because your destiny is him and with him is your destination.

[your-divine-ribs]

Soft

Words: 1.7k

Just fluff 💗💗💗

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

The sky's black velvet scattered over with a myriad of stars, a stain of violet on the horizon signalling the oncoming dawn. You've not slept, curled up in your seat in the window wrapped in a soft blanket, cradling a steaming hot cup of coffee.

Coffee isn't the only thing keeping you awake. Van's due back from tour and the flurry of excitement which simmers in your gut will never allow you to get even a minute's rest until you know he's back where he's meant to be. Home safe and in your arms.

The quiet sound of a distant car makes you sit upright, ears pricked and straining. You live on a quiet coastal road which is rarely traversed in the small hours of the morning, so the likelihood of this being Van is high. Then there's the unmistakeable sound of an engine idling, a low quiet voice and the slam of a car door, heavy footsteps crunching on the gravel driveway. As soon as the tall, dark figure comes into view your heart lurches and you spring to your feet, making for the door. You arrive just as the sound of a key turning in the lock emanates through the wood and you reach out an eager hand, grasping the handle and pulling the door fully open with force.

"Van!"

He stands framed in the doorway, the soft lighting from the hallway illuminating him, a slightly crooked smile on his face and eyes hooded with tiredness.

"Hey love, what're you doing up? It must be 3am!"

"Half past 4 actually," you correct him, stepping back to let him in and shutting the door behind him. "I couldn't sleep knowing you were coming back though. God I've missed you!"

His smile widens as he steps forward, quickly dropping his duffel bag and reaching out both hands to curl around your hips. "I've missed you too, so fucking much. You wouldn't believe how much. It's so good to be home."

You reach out for him. Although he's much taller than you it's like he falls into your embrace, melting into your arms, a sigh escaping him as he nestles his face into the crook of your neck. You burrow into the warmth of his chest, the soft material of his hoodie comforting on your skin. He clings to you and you reach up a hand to the nape of his neck, comforting touches smoothing down his hair and trailing down his spine.

"Mmm... I'm so tired," he mumbles into your neck. "Don't think I've ever been this tired before in my life."

You pull away and feel him release his grip on you reluctantly as you look up at him. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

"Actually, I'd really love a cuppa..."

You let out a small laugh, reaching for his hand and pulling him towards the kitchen. "What are you like? The world would be ending and you'd still stop for a cup of tea!"

You reach for the kettle as soon as you enter the kitchen, flicking it on. You're just adding a teabag to Van's favourite mug when you feel the warmth of his body behind you, pressing you into the countertop. He draws your hair to one side, bending his head down and nuzzling into your neck, pressing a small kiss to your skin. You can tell he hasn't shaved this morning, scratchy stubble tickling your neck, sending warm tingles through you.

"You smell so good," he whispers.

You giggle at the ticklish sensation of his lips on your neck. "I smell good?"

"Mmm..." comes his sleepy voice, fingers flexing at your waist, holding you even tighter. "You've no idea how good it is. Not after being cooped up on that tour bus with all the lads. It certainly doesn't smell pretty!"

He chuckles and smushes his face even further into your neck and you hear him stifling a yawn. You smile to yourself, pouring boiling water into his mug, stirring it with a teaspoon then gently shrugging the shoulder that he's resting on.

"Hey!" he protests as you wriggle in his arms so that he'll loosen his hold on you, but he relents when he realises that you're not escaping and you're just turning around to face him.

You can see him clearly now under the harsh strip lighting in the kitchen. His hair hangs in limp strands around his face and the skin under his eyes is tinged blue and puffy. His skin looks even paler than normal, sallow, a testament to late nights, an unforgiving schedule and a bad diet. He never does find the time to eat properly on tour, often favouring a cuppa and a cigarette instead of something nourishing. Bananas are probably the only nutritious thing that's passed his lips in three weeks.

"Wish you'd look after yourself a bit better when you're away," you grumble. "You look like you've not even seen sunlight for three weeks."

You reach up a hand to cup his face, your thumb gently trailing over his freckled cheeks. He leans his face into your palm, blinking heavily, his blue eyes still bright despite the tiredness when they flutter open again to look at you. That small spark is always present when he looks at you in that adoring way.

He smiles but it's muted, his voice quiet and slightly croaky when he replies.

"Hardly have to be honest. It's been so busy. Shows back to back... we only had a few free days, and then we thought it'd be a good time to go over the material for the new album."

"You been sleeping okay?"

A small crease forms on his brow, his nose crinkling up as he shakes his head slightly.

"Nah, not really. You know what I'm like babe, I only sleep good when I'm here with you. After a show I'm too wired to sleep and on the other nights I feel tired but then I can't settle in those goddamn bunks... and then everyone complains 'cos I'm tossing and turning. I usually just give up, get up and go for a smoke."

You sigh deeply, frustrated with him but not wanting to nag him when he's clearly so exhausted.

He blinks again, prolonged, his long lashes fanning over his cheeks, a small sigh escaping him. His shoulders are slumped, his posture slouched.

"Are you sure you really want this tea? You look dead on your feet. If you fall asleep here on the kitchen floor I'm not carrying you to bed you know. You're too bloody heavy!"

He chuckles, a low, soft sound. "Maybe I'll skip the tea after all."

"Come on sleepy head..."

You reach for his hand again, fingers finding his and entwining around them, urging him to follow you as you start for the hallway and the stairway beyond. Van's shuffling footsteps trail behind you then plod up the stairs as you make your way slowly up to the bedroom.

He sits down heavily on the bed, toeing off his boots before swinging his legs around and up, lying back and emitting a contented sigh.

"Oh my god that's so good! I've missed this bed so much! C'mon love, c'mere. Come and lie with me."

He stretches one arm out on the bed across the adjacent pillow, the other angled up and towards you, his fingers making a grabby hand gesture.

You pause, looking down and taking all of him in lying there, all bundled up in his cosy hoodie, a cute dopey expression on his face.

"Aren't you even gonna get undressed for bed?"

You move forward, kneeling on the bed next to him, fingers grasping at the hem of his sweatshirt, tugging it upwards, exposing his belly.

He laughs. "Babe... you know I'd never normally turn ya down. I'm so bloody tired though, I really don't think I've got it in me tonight, sorry!"

"I just want you to be comfy, come on. Arms up!"

He grumbles, resisting, making a grab for your wrists which he holds gently but firmly, pulling you upwards until your body falls across his. You don't have much choice in the matter, but to be honest now you're lying so close to Van, your body flush against his, getting yourself ready for bed is the last thing on your mind. He feels so good, the solid warmth of his body, the way his long arms wrap around you, holding you tightly, his fingers trailing down the contours of your back and settling on your waist. You don't want him to ever let you go, even for just a moment.

"Mmm... I've missed this so much," you hear him murmur. "It's so hard being away, but this makes up for it all."

You prop yourself up on your elbows, smiling down on him. The only light in the bedroom is the moonlight spilling in from a gap in the curtains, and it illuminates him in its soft glow. He looks angelic lying there, his hair spread out on the pillow, his mouth curled into a serene smile.

You lean down to him, capturing his lips in a soft kiss. It's slow and gentle, both of you battling against the sleep which threatens to pull you down into its warm, comforting clutches.

"Love you Y/N... so much," he whispers when you finally pull away. "With all my heart."

"Love you too..."

You feel one of his hands gently stroking your back, comforting caresses which make you melt into him even more. You feel so happy in that moment, closer than you ever have been. It makes you forget about all the teary goodbyes and the missed calls due to time differences and the lonely nights when your bed feels too big just for you. All that matters is that he's here with you now.

You let your head sink down on to his chest and you can feel his contented breathing and the steady beat of his heart. One of his hands raises up, fingers gently raking through your hair. You can feel your eyes closing and you don't fight it this time, burrowing your face further into him, breathing him in. He feels like home.

Sleep claims you both in a perfect moment.

[neochan]

my days been okay hehe lots of packing since i’m moving out of my uni dorm tomorrow!!

unfortunately, i don’t write about chenle </3 but!! i can do renjun any day!! i am still so stuck on your taboo!renjun thought where he blackmails you and i have been thinking about it since the day you wrote it. he seems so sweet when you first meet him, offering help with schoolwork or even just personal things but it’s all just a facade to get you to lower your guard around him. then he hears a rumour that you’ve been buying drugs off of someone else and that’s when he seizes his opportunity. he thinks that letting him wreck your little cunt and use you like a personal fucktoy whenever he wants is a small price for you to pay so he keeps his mouth <3

"...what?"

"you heard me." he smirks and leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his broad chest, "i know you use your daddies money to buy coke."

"you're out of your mind." no way could this secret have gotten out. he must have bribed someone for the information, or maybe there was a rumor floating around - either way, as your ra, renjun had the power to tell higher ups and get you kicked out of college, or even worse, put in prison.

his eyebrows shoot up, "am i?" stalking towards you, he presses into your body until you're stumbling back against the wall, "cause i'd bet you'd fail a test right now."

"n-no." you stutter, shrinking further into the plaster.

one of his fingers taps the underside of your jaw, forcing you to lift your face up to his.

"wanna find out?"

alarm and panic flood you. this couldn't be happening. you couldn't afford the repercussions of your insatiable party habit.

"no p-please! i'll do anything. just don't tell, okay?"

he ponders that for a second, another sickening smirk curling on his lips, "anything?"

you nod your head rapidly. what could he want? money? the same drugs you were using? a date? whatever if was, you'd do it.

his voice comes out silky smooth, taunting and purring, "let me fuck you." the finger pressing your jaw upwards jams harder, "let me use you as my personal fucktoy."

you gulp. what in the world. why - why did he want that? you rarely knew each other! he lived on the end of the hall by himself, was always in the library, and had no friends! you were popular, you had a boyfriend, a good group of friends that always wanted to hang out. was this some sick and twisted fantasy he had? the lonely ra fucking the popular girl.

"you want to-"

"- fuck you. yes sweetheart, keep up." the hesitation is plain on your face and renjun isn't unaware, "i could always tell..." he trails off.

"no! it's... yes, that's fine.. you can...we can do that"

his breath fans over your face when he leans in close, "do what? say it. say you want my cock."

your stomach lurches. he was as intoxicating as the powder tucked between your mattress and box spring - a part of you hates that. you had a boyfriend. but if you had to do what you had to do, might as well enjoy it right?

he might have been a loser but he wasn't ugly.

"i - i want you to fuck me." you gulp, and with shaky hands, press a palm to the flat of his stomach. it was rock solid underneath your touch, "i need you to fuck me. use me, abuse me, breed me. i don't care, i - i want it renjun."

he throws his head back in exhilaration and exclaims greedily, "that's more like it princess. goddd, i'm gonna ruin you!"

[quills-of-freedom]

Reactions ~

AU modern - Reacting to WAP

Eren - Mikasa - Reiner - Levi - Erwin - Annie - Porco - Connie

GIF by urbanxdivinity

You're driving along, and your partner insisted on driving, so you get to be in charge of the music - of course, when you see WAP appear on suggested songs, you put it on, just dying to see the reaction on your lover's face.

They're all just too precious for our world.

Song: WAP - Cardi B (Ft. Megan thee stallion)

There's some hoe's in this house...

Eren

GIF by theodorofrain

As the song starts, his eyes flicker over to the stereo, then to you, and then back onto the road.

"Make that pull-out game WEAK!" Makes his eyebrows spring up in surprise.

His face is unreadable for the first part, almost as if he didn't notice the lyrics. But he did.

"Is this what you're into now?" He mutters nonchalantly as he turns the wheel.

You don't reply. Just observe.

"I want you to park that big Mack Truck, right in this little garage" He blinks, pulling back his head.

He's starting to wonder if you were trying to tell him something.

Turns around and is heading back home.

"E-eren, where are we -"

"You know, if you want me to fuck you I'll always happily do it. You don't need to put on a song to - "

"Eren, n-no." You try to speak through laughter as he picks up speed to get home. "It wasn't... like that, ha-ha!"

His face was blank, priceless.

"Well, too late now I've turned around. Text Jean, we're going to be a little late."

Mikasa

GIF by immanime

Mikasa doesn't notice at first. She's a careful driver and was focusing on something happening up ahead. Nothing bad, just something that required her focus.

"Bring a bucket and a mop, for this wet ass pussy." Snaps her attention. She wasn't sure if she had heard that right, her eyes widening and looking at the stereo.

"Give me everything you got! For this wet ass pussy" Nope. She heard right.

Her face deepens into a hue of crimson, her lips parting in a sheer sock.

"Y-y/n!" She gasps, totally blown away at the vulgar lyrics. "What is this?"

Her fingers fumble for the knob to turn down the volume, but you playfully bat her hand away.

"No, no." You tease. "You wanted to drive, so you said I could pick the music."

Throughout the song, her face was locked into a worried frown her face getting redder and redder as it went on.

"My innocence..." She whispers when it finally ends.

You'd literally ruined her entire day, those images of Cardi B's wet bajingo invading her mind. It took her until dinner later for her to see the funny side. But until then, she isn't best pleased with you until then.

Reiner

GIF by delu-jean

Reiner is uncomfortable as soon as the intro begins. But he gives it a chance in silence.

What the hell is a Kegal? He thinks, totally innocent and oblivious. But he doesn't really want to say anything, thinking you're enjoying the song. He doesn't want to ruin it for you.

Is this what people listen to? His eyes dart over to you, doing a little jive dance.

A pink hue colours in the tops of his cheeks and nose, the lyrics just reminding him of the intimate times he's had with you, his love.

"I don't wanna spit, I wanna gulp, I wanna gag, I wanna choke." He lets out an involuntary squeak, clearing his throat immediately after, pretending he has to cough.

"Are you okay?" You ask, holding in your laughter to the best of your abilities.

He nods, pretending he has no idea what your concern is for.

The song ends and he is tense, wide-eyed and still a blushing mess.

"What did you think?" You ask, innocently.

"I think that woman needs to find someone nice to fulfil her needs."

You can't get over how precious he is at times.

"And I think some things should be kept private."

"They certainly do." You sigh happily looking at the sweetest man you've ever met.

Levi

GIF by reallysaltykou

Don't expect much of a reaction from Levi. Before the first verse even ends, he switches it off. And he's lightning fast.

"We're not listening to that filth."

He's not dumb, he knows you were trying to wind him up, so he's a little huffy with you for an hour or so afterwards.

When you reach your destination and Erwin greets you (meeting up for lunch) he asks how you are.

"I was great until my ears were assaulted by the worst song I have ever heard." He mutters, still huffy.

He lightens up about it, but don't expect a laugh or anything.

Erwin

GIF by reallysaltykou

Eyes flicker a little wider for a moment, but after that not much of a reaction.

His eyes snap to you now and again to gauge your reaction, wondering if you'd put it on by mistake and you hadn't noticed.

The song ends.

"Well now." He comments. "There were indeed some "hoes in that house. I think I said that right."

Erwin is clever. He's turning your prank back onto you.

"Is that how it's said, y/n? Hoe's?"

"Erwin - "

"And that 'dangling thing in the back of her throat' is called a uvula."

"I don't think she - "

"So there are hoes in the house. They have a... was it WAP?"

These things did not sound right coming from Erwin.

"The storytelling was tremendous."

"Okay, Erwin I get it please sto -"

"Catchy too. I think i'll add it to my playlist." He then begins to sing, to your horror. Monotone, and flat yet he still goes for it. "Got me thinking about that wet ass pu-"

"Okay Erwin, you win! Just please, god, stop!"

He smirks. Chalk up yet another victory for Erwin. He knows you'll never play such music in his presence again.

Annie

GIF by gojosbizarre

Annie doesn't seem phased in the slightest. She continues driving without a word, her face never changing from its usual stern expression.

"That song was disgusting." She eventually says when it's over. "Never play it again while I'm here."

"Okay..." you reply, disappointed in her reaction.

"Not a single person could realistically give anyone that. Bought her a phone? Just to see pictures in between her legs? Hasn't he heard of pornhub?"

"Woah, jesus Annie I don't thin -"

"She's either full of it or she likes to pull pathetic simps."

"It's just a son-"

"Music is art. That wasn't art."

"That's subjective really isn't it?"

"No."

Porco

GIF by smol-ackerman

Porco bursts into a giggle after the first verse. "What the hell is this, y/n?"

Starts to bob his shoulders to the rhythm. "Catchy though."

"She wants him to what?!" He laughs.

He laughs pretty much through the entire thing and when it ends, he pulls over to the side of a street, undoing his seatbelt."

"Porco? What are you-"

"You want me to do that to you?" He turns to face you with a devilish grin.

"N-no!" You joke, laughing as he lunges over and assaults your neck with kisses that tickle.

"Aw, but I wanna 'tie you up like you're surprised'" He jests, laughing as he grabs your waist.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" You laugh as he continues his tickle assault.

"That's what I thought." He grins, stopping and pecking your cheek. "Come on, we're gonna be late."

Connie

GIF by reallysaltykou

You're not surprised, to be honest when he exclaims; "Oh! I love this song!"

Sings it word-for-word. Dancing. The whole package.

Lowers his windows and turns up the volume.

It's you who squirms in embarrassment as he yells out the window; "CERTIFIED FREAK - SEVEN DAYS A WEEK!"

You end up turning it off, resulting in a whine from him.

"Aw, you're no fun y/n."

[shadedheart138]

Too Much Thinking Is Bad For My Health (Part 3)

"Time, c'mon. Let's try 'nd make it t' th' spring." Twilight said gently, cradling Warriors so very gently to his chest. A hand behind his head, as if trying to shield him from the world. Time looked over at Warriors. His poor, poor brother. The man who raised him. More than The Great Deku Tree did anyway. Forget his father being a tree, his father was Warriors, more than anything.

"Twilight, we'll... we'll never make it." Time's voice cracked, and his eyes teared again. How could he have let this happen? Again, his thoughts were spiraling, repeating themselves. How could he have fixed this? When did he let it get so bad? After all this, was this how his brother died? Cradled in someone's hands, like a delicate scrap of flower? Did-

Warriors' chest gave an odd heave, the sign that his heart was trying to quit on him again. Twilight jumped. "Time, the fairy-"

Time's hands were already grabbing for the fairy bag, carefully taking out the last one.

Time's hand brushed something, as he lifted her from the bag and released her from her bottle.

The-

Oh.

His ocarina.

Time pulled it out of the bag, staring at it with wide eyes. The last time he'd used it was... was Termina. Time travel, those three days. Over and over and over. Those people that didn't remember him, oh how little he was. Tiny. Playing with time like a toy, until he realized just how important it was to stop the moon from falling. Frantically running through temples, trying to get to the final chamber before the final day. Over and over, those days. Repeating and doing the same thing. Mikau. Anju and Kafei. Darmani. Kamaro. Gone, lost to time and Termina. He'd never see them again.

What if he playing the song now? Would this cycle repeat too? Of him seeing his brother die over and over and over and see him collapse and convulse and seize and cry in his sleep and then never move again? Would he have to witness Wind's sobs and cries and pleas over and over and over until his voice died? Wild's guilt, Sky's fear, Twilight's remorse? Legend's buried horror and sorrow, Hyrule's hopelessness, Four's despair? See all of them go through it all over and over and over and over until he collapsed till the moon fell till everyone died and no one could be saved and he couldn't bring the ocarina to his lips anymore and had no more air to breathe-

"Time! Breathe!"

Twilight had set Warriors down gently in a patch of grass, and was currently gripping Time by a shoulder. "Set the ocarina down, unless you fancy smashin' it by grippin' it so hard. Take a couple breaths, Old man." Time's hands shook, and his chest heaved as he took panicked breaths. "The ocarina." He said, voice barely heard through the wavering tone and lack of air.

"The what?" Twilight asked gently, trying to figure out why Time had suddenly panicked as soon as his fingers had wrapped around his instrument.

"The ocarina. I can save him. I can. The Song of Time. Three days. I can-"

"You can take a breath, and talk to me, Time. You're spoutin' a whole lotta gibberish. I don't speak gibberish." Twilight had crossed his arms, but his face was worried.

"You said you can save him. How? What will it cost?" What would it cost? No one would remember the panic, the fear, the hurt. Only Time. Only Link, who was too young in body and too old in soul, would remember. Three more days to add to the never ending tally. But Link would remember. He'd remember the screams of horror, the sound of Wind's knees hitting the ground. The sound of his sobs and wails as he watched Warriors die. He'd remember Legend's quiet crying, into the hat that Warriors had stitched up for him so many times. He'd remember Hyrule wearing himself to magic exhaustion in the effort to try and ease his brother's pain. To heal it. He'd remember Wild's frantic guilt, as he wondered if he'd suddenly been the cause of all this. He'd remember Sky's shaking voice, as he tried to soothe. He'd remember Twilight's hiccups and shudders as he held onto Warriors' hand through a watch. He'd remember Four's erratic shouting, as they seemed to fall apart from the inside out.

Link would remember when others wouldn't. Oh, how he'd remember.

"Just a little air. Then we'll go back three days and this would've never happened." Time lied easily, getting up. Twilight visibly brightened. This seemed like a cure-all, though mildly sketchy. Anything to try and save Warriors.

Time lifted the ocarina to his lips, hands shaking, and began to play.

XXX

The moon was falling was the moon falling where were the masks he needed did he lose one no where's the deity mask I need that to fight which was next what to I do where's Saria WHY WON'T IT COME OFF NAVI HELP HELP HELP TATL COME BACK-

"LINK!"

Warriors' voice.

Time had suddenly scrambled away from the fire, eyes wide. He'd tossed his ocarina across the camp, to where it skittered to be near Sky. Sky picked it up gently and started to clean the dirt off of it, frowning. Time had then proceeded to curl up in a ball, grip his hair, and scream.

"Sprite, Link, come on. Talk to me, please. What happened? Are you hurt?"

Warriors' voice was frantic but he was there and he was okay and he wasn't pale yeah he was still painfully thin but he was there and he was okay and he wasn't dead or dying or-

"Link, please. Breathe." Time's chest heaved, whines and gasps leaving him. Warriors held him tight. This sudden breakdown... what could've happened to make Time break so thoroughly?

"No no no no no no no the moon is falling where's the moon what day is it one two or three where's Tatl? Please, I don't want to go back to Termina-" He was speaking aloud. Warriors increased the pressure of his hold.

"Link, look. See?" He pointed between the trees. "The moon is right there, nice and far away. A crescent, tonight." Time looked up.

There it was, the moon. No evil grin. No Majora. No numbered days.

Time took a steadier breath.

"There you go. Can I ask what set this off?" Warriors' voice was gentle, a hand cradling Time to his neck, like he'd do when Time was little. Fresh out of Termina. Time shuddered with a sob, crying instead of screaming. His hands came to latch onto Warriors' clothes- Warriors, alive and not well, but alive. Heart beating steady.

"You died." Time sobbed quietly.

"I-... Link, I'm not dead. I'm not dying any time soon. What brought this on-"

"You died so many times. Over and over and over and there weren't enough fairies to get us to Ordona's spring. Poison, Wars. You poisoned yourself and you died." Time shuddered again, tears pouring down his face.

Warriors froze. Poison. How did Time know?

"How did-"

"The Song of Time. Three days. I moved back three days. We were having chili that night. Then you didn't eat and so Wild made you snacks but you didn't eat and on your watch I surprised you so it was my fault you poisoned yourself and died-"

"Slow down, Sprite. Slow-"

"And everyone was screaming and crying and we couldn't save you and so I-" "Mask."

Time froze, hiccupping and crying. The camp was quiet.

"You used the Song of Time?"

Time nodded, gripping the back of Warriors' shirt hard enough it was ripping holes.

"I... I died?"

Another nod, another sob.

Warriors just held Time for a moment, thinking to himself. He'd died, huh. Funny how it was something he was so paranoid of dying to.

"Warriors." Wind's voice was quiet, as he came by. Wars looked up. Wind was holding out a blanket with worry evident on his face.

"Thanks, Sailor. We'll be fine."

Wind frowned, but he turned away to leave them be. Warriors looked back down at Time, still crying and clinging to him.

"Dad." Time's voice was small. Full of fear.

Time had only called Warriors dad exactly three times, when he was Mask. Once when he was so sick that he couldn't even open his eyes; he'd called for Warriors to read him a story book. Once when he'd gotten an an arrow through his side and was convinced he was going to die.

And once again, as he held Warriors' hand so tight and was transported home.

"Shhhhhhh. It's alright." Oh Hylia, Warriors couldn't do this.

"I don't want you to die again, please don't let this be another cycle-"

"It won't be. In the morning, we can have a nice long chat about this, okay? About the poison problem, I mean. It's probably high time I talk to someone about this." Artemis had told him that for years.

Time rubbed his eyes, and tried sitting up, realizing just how ridiculous he probably looked. Crying into Warriors' shoulder. Wasn't he supposed to be the leader? Strong and mighty and unshakable? He had an apology ready on his tongue when Warriors pulled him back in.

"Sit your ass back down, Link." Time sat back down, tears still pouring no matter how fast he rubbed his eyes. Ridiculous. He was (somewhere) in his thirties, why was he crying? The crisis had been averted. Warriors wasn't dead.

But he had been.

Warriors cradled Time as close as he could, given the height difference.

"I'm sorry, Link. We'll have a talk in the morning, okay? For now, get some sleep."

Time closed his eyes, and relaxed into Warriors' hold. He slept through the night. There would need to be a big, long talk in the morning, but for now, they were okay. And they'd be okay.

fin.

@rrainydaydreams and @rebornofstars IT'S DONE RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[colossal-fallout]

Reactions *New*

AU modern - Reacting to WAP

Eren - Mikasa - Reiner - Levi - Erwin - Annie - Porco - Connie

You're driving along, and your partner insisted on driving, so you get to be in charge of the music - of course, when you see WAP appear on suggested songs, you put it on, just dying to see the reaction on your lover's face.

They're all just too precious for our world.

Song: WAP - Cardi B (Ft. Megan thee stallion)

There's some hoe's in this house...

!Taking requests for reactions!

Eren

As the song starts, his eyes flicker over to the stereo, then to you, and then back onto the road.

"Make that pull-out game WEAK!" Makes his eyebrows spring up in surprise.

His face is unreadable for the first part, almost as if he didn't notice the lyrics. But he did.

"Is this what you're into now?" He mutters nonchalantly as he turns the wheel.

You don't reply. Just observe.

"I want you to park that big Mack Truck, right in this little garage" He blinks, pulling back his head.

He's starting to wonder if you were trying to tell him something.

Turns around and is heading back home.

"E-eren, where are we -"

"You know, if you want me to fuck you I'll always happily do it. You don't need to put on a song to - "

"Eren, n-no." You try to speak through laughter as he picks up speed to get home. "It wasn't... like that, ha-ha!"

His face was blank, priceless.

"Well, too late now I've turned around. Text Jean, we're going to be a little late."

Mikasa

Mikasa doesn't notice at first. She's a careful driver and was focusing on something happening up ahead. Nothing bad, just something that required her focus.

"Bring a bucket and a mop, for this wet ass pussy." Snaps her attention. She wasn't sure if she had heard that right, her eyes widening and looking at the stereo.

"Give me everything you got! For this wet ass pussy" Nope. She heard right.

Her face deepens into a hue of crimson, her lips parting in a sheer sock.

"Y-y/n!" She gasps, totally blown away at the vulgar lyrics. "What is this?"

Her fingers fumble for the knob to turn down the volume, but you playfully bat her hand away.

"No, no." You tease. "You wanted to drive, so you said I could pick the music."

Throughout the song, her face was locked into a worried frown her face getting redder and redder as it went on.

"My innocence..." She whispers when it finally ends.

You'd literally ruined her entire day, those images of Cardi B's wet bajingo invading her mind. It took her until dinner later for her to see the funny side. But until then, she isn't best pleased with you until then.

Reiner

Reiner is uncomfortable as soon as the intro begins. But he gives it a chance in silence.

What the hell is a Kegal? He thinks, totally innocent and oblivious. But he doesn't really want to say anything, thinking you're enjoying the song. He doesn't want to ruin it for you.

Is this what people listen to? His eyes dart over to you, doing a little jive dance.

A pink hue colours in the tops of his cheeks and nose, the lyrics just reminding him of the intimate times he's had with you, his love.

"I don't wanna spit, I wanna gulp, I wanna gag, I wanna choke." He lets out an involuntary squeak, clearing his throat immediately after, pretending he has to cough.

"Are you okay?" You ask, holding in your laughter to the best of your abilities.

He nods, pretending he has no idea what your concern is for.

The song ends and he is tense, wide-eyed and still a blushing mess.

"What did you think?" You ask, innocently.

"I think that woman needs to find someone nice to fulfil her needs."

You can't get over how precious he is at times.

"And I think some things should be kept private."

"They certainly do." You sigh happily looking at the sweetest man you've ever met.

Levi

Don't expect much of a reaction from Levi. Before the first verse even ends, he switches it off. And he's lightning fast.

"We're not listening to that filth."

He's not dumb, he knows you were trying to wind him up, so he's a little huffy with you for an hour or so afterwards.

When you reach your destination and Erwin greets you (meeting up for lunch) he asks how you are.

"I was great until my ears were assaulted by the worst song I have ever heard." He mutters, still huffy.

He lightens up about it, but don't expect a laugh or anything.

Erwin

Eyes flicker a little wider for a moment, but after that not much of a reaction.

His eyes snap to you now and again to gauge your reaction, wondering if you'd put it on by mistake and you hadn't noticed.

The song ends.

"Well now." He comments. "There were indeed some "hoes in that house. I think I said that right."

Erwin is clever. He's turning your prank back onto you.

"Is that how it's said, y/n? Hoe's?"

"Erwin - "

"And that 'dangling thing in the back of her throat' is called a uvula."

"I don't think she - "

"So there are hoes in the house. They have a... was it WAP?"

These things did not sound right coming from Erwin.

"The storytelling was tremendous."

"Okay, Erwin I get it please sto -"

"Catchy too. I think i'll add it to my playlist." He then begins to sing, to your horror. Monotone, and flat yet he still goes for it. "Got me thinking about that wet ass pu-"

"Okay Erwin, you win! Just please, god, stop!"

He smirks. Chalk up yet another victory for Erwin. He knows you'll never play such music in his presence again.

Annie

Annie doesn't seem phased in the slightest. She continues driving without a word, her face never changing from its usual stern expression.

"That song was disgusting." She eventually says when it's over. "Never play it again while I'm here."

"Okay..." you reply, disappointed in her reaction.

"Not a single person could realistically give anyone that. Bought her a phone? Just to see pictures in between her legs? Hasn't he heard of pornhub?"

"Woah, jesus Annie I don't thin -"

"She's either full of it or she likes to pull pathetic simps."

"It's just a son-"

"Music is art. That wasn't art."

"That's subjective really isn't it?"

"No."

Porco

Porco bursts into a giggle after the first verse. "What the hell is this, y/n?"

Starts to bob his shoulders to the rhythm. "Catchy though."

"She wants him to what?!" He laughs.

He laughs pretty much through the entire thing and when it ends, he pulls over to the side of a street, undoing his seatbelt."

"Porco? What are you-"

"You want me to do that to you?" He turns to face you with a devilish grin.

"N-no!" You joke, laughing as he lunges over and assaults your neck with kisses that tickle.

"Aw, but I wanna 'tie you up like you're surprised'" He jests, laughing as he grabs your waist.

"Okay, okay, I get it!" You laugh as he continues his tickle assault.

"That's what I thought." He grins, stopping and pecking your cheek. "Come on, we're gonna be late."

Connie

You're not surprised, to be honest when he exclaims; "Oh! I love this song!"

Sings it word-for-word. Dancing. The whole package.

Lowers his windows and turns up the volume.

It's you who squirms in embarrassment as he yells out the window; "CERTIFIED FREAK - SEVEN DAYS A WEEK!"

You end up turning it off, resulting in a whine from him.

"Aw, you're no fun y/n."

[wildlyglittering]

Silver In Her Eyes - Part Seven

Hello All!

Here is the last part (part seven) of what is the first quarter of Silver In Her Eyes. I've hoped you've enjoyed it so far!

I'm taking a break from Silver as life is getting in the way, I don't know when I will be picking this back up. I do hope it won't be too long.

Please show this some love on Tumblr or Ao3!

Silver In Her Eyes - Chapter 7 - writinginthedust - A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas [Archive of Our Own]#

For the first time in her life, Feyre wanted Nesta.

Mor would have once been her first choice but there was an ache at the thought of her friends knowing and conferring, conspiring about her life. She’d saved them, but they hadn’t given her the option to save herself.

Elain was in Spring. Not, as Feyre had first been told to build a relationship with Lucien under Rhys’ cautious eye, but to be used as bribery. To get Lucien to convince Tamlin to ally with the Night Court.

Feyre wouldn’t have wanted her anyway. Elain would have been too distraught, too emotional.

Rhys...

Feyre couldn’t think about Rhys.

This wasn’t a case of love. Rhys loved Feyre. This was because Nesta respected Feyre enough to tell her the truth, she who understood that Feyre had a right to her own life, her own choices.

Something newly uncomfortable now lived in Feyre.

Her eldest sister had been torn from her bed, thrown into the Cauldron and then subjected to war after war in a newly formed body. Then, when all was over and Nesta was a shaking mess drinking and fucking her way through Velaris, Feyre had made decisions on her behalf.

They’d worked out, hadn’t they? In the end?

Like a worm in an apple, doubts niggled in Feyre’s mind.

Nesta came when called.

“I’ll do it in here,” Feyre said, as they stood amongst the too white, too bright marble of the bathroom. “There may be blood. I don’t know if there will be blood, there may be lots of-”

Nesta’s fingers pushed between hers as she rambled, Nesta’s cool dry palm against Feyre’s hot slick one and her sister gave her hand a squeeze. Firm but gentle, saying I am here without words.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Nesta said, her voice quiet. She held no rage anymore, just an infinite sadness.

“I need to do this,” Feyre said. “I swore an oath to protect the people of the Night Court. Love takes many forms.”

If she didn’t try to shift into Illyrian form, then her inevitable last breath would start a chain of disaster and death for everyone, including her son if he survived beyond her. If she lived while Nyx died then part of Feyre would be dead anyway. Of all the sacrifices she’d made, this was the one which tore through her.

As though she was in a dream, Feyre stepped into the bathroom, insider her body and strangely outside it too. Her feet were bare and cold against the stone, the fortresses up in her mind lest Rhys discovered what she was doing and tried to stop her.

Feyre sat on the floor on a sheet with Nesta opposite, waiting and watchful. Before she closed her eyes, she saw Nesta’s mouth move as she uttered a prayer.

Then nothing else. Her own breath, Nyx fluttering inside her, as though he was remembering all the words she had spoken to him the previous evening. She held onto the love she had for him, hoping she could wrap him tight in a blanket of it, to protect him from what might happen next.

That will never go my darling. That love will always be for you.

Feyre nudged her body until her bones cracked and her skin stretched, until wings unfurled on her back and her stomach changed shape, shifting and accommodating the small body within. Feyre expected pain but none came, just a sharp discomfort of talons pressing against an organ and then – nothing. No agony, no tangy scent, or trickle of blood.

Had he disappeared from the world like a whisper? Never existing until one second after conception but now in the reverse. Gone like a raindrop in the ocean.

Her hands hovered before her, too scared to touch her own belly to feel flatness.

“Feyre,” said Nesta, her voice light, hopeful. “Look.”

Feyre’s eyes opened and she glanced down. Her belly was the same, round and protruding, the fabric straining over the burgeoning shape. She pushed down and there it was, the press of Nyx’s foot, at first gentle and then more belligerent, kicking against his own mother’s hand.

I am here.

The pinch of continual pain Feyre had felt throughout the pregnancy and believed normal was now absent, leaving behind only comfort.

A sob from her throat turned into a peel of laughter as Nyx’s kicks grew with enthusiasm at the new space he found himself in. Feyre splayed her palms over her stomach, calling out his name over and over before she called out another.

“Rhys,” she exclaimed with joy, “I need to tell Rhys.” But Nesta must have slipped from the room because when Feyre looked up, her sister was gone.

***

Amren had folded in on herself; hunched over, skin pale. There were more streaks of silver in her hair than black and lines were deeply etched on her face. When Rhys arrived, she was sat in a chair facing a window overlooking the brilliant turquoise sea of Summer, a thick blanket wrapped around her legs despite the heat.

Rhys wondered if her hearing had diminished, that she hadn’t heard his name being announced. Even when he drew closer, she didn’t greet him, her eyes remaining transfixed ahead. Only when he stepped into view did she glance up.

“I’m glad Feyre is safe,” she told him, “I will forever live with the guilt that I couldn’t break the pact. I’m glad you’re safe too.”

“Thank you,” he said, setting into the chair placed beside her. “Though it’s not how I wanted things to go.” His words grew clipped, “I’m not pleased that Nes-”

There was a noise from Amren. “It’s done now,” she held up her hand, cutting him off. “Look to the future and be happy.”

Rhys bit the inside of his cheek, drawing blood into his mouth. “Yes, well," he gritted out, "I came to see how you are, and ask when you’d be returning to Velaris. We miss you.”

Amren’s laugh was brittle and her chest rattled. “Who’s left to miss me? Don’t you have everyone scattered about?”

Rhys’ turned to look at Amren, irritated that she refused to look back at him, that she stared straight ahead at the landscape beyond. “They will return. The battle may be over but I need to win the war.”

“Well, you will. With your allies and Illyrian soldiers. And the Made weapons of course - if you decide to share them.”

His heart leapt in his chest; he didn’t recall discussing the blades with Amren. “How do you know about those?”

“I still have ears in Night.”

“Cassian then,” Rhys said, curling his lip. “He’s become very loose lipped in recent weeks.”

“No. Not Cassian.”

“Who?”

Amren waved her hand again, discarding his question. She closed her eyes and settled back down into her chair, drawing her blanket closer to her chest. “Doesn’t matter. I may be weak but I’m not without any power.”

Rhys breathed air in through his nose willing his jaw to loosen. Pressing Amren and coming close to losing his temper with her in Summer of all Courts was a sure way to break some allies. It had taken long enough to secure Tamlin and, in the end, he was only swayed by Lucien’s pleas.

Lucien himself had to be cowed by Elain’s doe eyed presence when Rhys carted her before him.

“Come back to the city,” he said, keeping his voice jovial, “bring those astute ears back home.”

Amren shook her head. “My bones hurt and Night is too dark, too cold. Varian ensures I’m well looked after and Summer is providing the restorative effect I need. I crave the light.”

“Plenty of light in the House of Wind.” The sun glinted across the waves in their view. “You’ll find it emptier these days. You could move Varian in.”

Amren turned her head to look at him, slow and cautious, eyes narrowed. “And where have all the occupants gone?”

So, her ears only went so far. That was good to know. Now it was Rhys’ turn to wave his hand. “That doesn’t matter. Say you’ll return.”

Amren took a breath in, her hands curling on the armrest of her chair belying the tension even though she casually rested her head back and closed her eyes. Rhys noted four missing fingers. “No, I don’t want to.”

The hold on his temper was loosening. “You’re a member of the Night Court,” he spat, “a sworn member of the Inner Circle and my second in command, so I command you to come back.”

“You think demands will call me back?” She laughed. “I know why you want me back and its nothing to do with missing me. Feyre will live, as will Nyx - thank the Mother - but the death pact between you and her leaves them vulnerable. Feyre could still be a target for enemies who want to wipe you out.”

"You’re wrong,” Rhys said, knowing Amren saw through his lie. “I’m moving to the final stage of our plan. We will destroy Keir and his allies. He’s secured less Illyrian camps then he thinks and though he has Beron, Eris is now ours.”

Amren raised an eyebrow. “And you think the male who would betray his father wouldn’t betray you?”

“He won’t. He had demands. Demands which can now be met.”

A frown creased over Amren’s face making her look as ancient as she was. An eye opened, a glint of silver glaring at him. “If you mean Nesta, I would advise you exhibit caution in handing her over like some winning prize. No one knows what she can do-”

“What she could do. She’s a candle burnt to the end.” He tucked what Amren had said away. Only Mor knew Eris’ request regarding  Nesta. Between this and Amren knowing about the Made weapons, Rhys would have to look closer at his cousin.

Amren shook her head. “If that is the case, then let her live in peace. She once wanted a cottage outside the city where she could be alone. Allow her to have that life. Allow Cassian to have it with her.”

“No,” Rhys said, shaking his head. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t? It would lose you Eris, is that what you think? We can convince him to take a different route, one that doesn’t involve trading the future of another.”

Rhys clutched his fist to his chest. “Is that what you think of me? That I would treat my mate’s sister in such a way? It would be dangerous for Nesta to live outside the city. If something were to happen, how could I look Feyre in the eye and tell her harm had befallen her sister?”

Footsteps sounded across the marble floor. Rhys could see Varian approach, either to remove Rhys or take Amren away.

Amren looked past Rhys; her face softening a fraction as she saw who was coming towards her. When she looked back to Rhys, it had hardened again and for a moment she was the Amren of before – young and sharp and dangerous.

“It’s easy of course,” she said with a false sweetness, “clutch her hands, put on your most pathetic expression and tell her there is no danger and never will be. After all, you’re the most brilliant High Lord, the most trustworthy. She’ll believe you in everything.”

Varian breezed past Rhys without acknowledgement, his hands going to two handles on the back of Amren’s chair Rhys hadn’t previously noticed.

Varian said nothing, neither did Amren, as they left the room leaving Rhys alone with the endless bright blue sky.