#as promised the lost ficlet

[sorryiwasasleep]

Thinking about a seven year old Annabeth who starts sitting next to the Pine Tree every night.

“Hey Thalia! Today I…”

The others think it’s cute at first and not doing any harm, so they let her.

She does this for years.

Every night, without fail, after dinner, but before bed, you can find Annabeth Chase sitting at the top of Half-Blood Hill telling a tree about her day.

Telling her best friend.

Luke hates it with a burning passion, but Annabeth just looks so sad, so broken every time he tries to tell her Thalia isn’t listening, that she’s gone, that she was taken from them, so he lets it happen too. Even joins her sometimes.

(And if he gets caught by Chiron after curfew one night in late December screaming and sobbing and physically fighting the tree, cursing at the gods and begging with the bark for it to just be Thalia again, well, he’ll never tell Annabeth that’s for damn sure).

But then Luke goes on his quest.

And it goes horribly.

And he comes back angry, angrier than Annabeth has ever seen him, and scarred and bitter and he barely even looked at her when she visited him in the infirmary, won’t tell her anything at all about the quest, jaw clenched and rage radiating off him. She’s scared by it.

And she’s ten years old at this point and full of logic and she knows it’s silly, but dryads can listen when they’re sleeping in their trees, so she figures it’s not illogical to think that if Thalia is at all still in there, maybe she’s listening too.

She goes up the hill the night Luke is finally back on his feet to talk to Thalia about it.

And Luke is waiting for her.

And she smiles and picks up her pace because she thinks maybe he’s coming around, maybe being out in the world made him think about all the time when they were running and hiding, made him miss Thalia too instead of just his usual anger that she was gone. Maybe he was going to tell them both what happened!

None of those things occur.

Instead, Luke screams at her.

“Thalia is gone, she’s dead. We can’t just sit around and pretend she’s still here. You’re too old to keep doing this Annabeth.” He spits out the words like they hurt. “The gods could have saved her but didn’t because they were cowards, afraid of the threat she might pose, without even considering that they could use threatening.” He finishes his rant with a snarl, his one eye not currently patched glaring up in challenge at the sky.

And it terrifies Annabeth.

She’d started crying right when he raised his voice, but then the things he actually said?

“Y-you don’t mean that Luke. You don’t.” Her words tumble out of her mouth. She’s shaking now, trying to suppress the sobs that want to escape her.

He just scoffs and shakes his head. “I do.” He throws a look of disdain at Thalia’s tree and strolls back down the hill.

She doesn’t understand this. She doesn’t understand why Luke is so angry. What happened to him?

She sits on the hill and sobs and tries to talk to Thalia about it, but the words catch in her throat.

Luke apologizes in the morning and tells her about his quest and Annabeth accepts the apology and is once again awestruck by him, even if he hadn’t completed the goal he was given because he got to fight a dragon.

And Annabeth’s feet take her to the bottom of the hill as they do every night, but she’s stopped by a wave of shame.

And the thought that maybe Luke is right.

Maybe she does need to start moving on.

Make a friend who can talk back.

She stops talking to the Pine Tree.

(And somewhere in a haze Thalia’s dreams get a little less interesting)

[thiefxking]

Apparently Time and I are thinking about the Yiga and Kohga... so this was born. Just a little outsiders perspective about them that I thought I'd share since it wouldn't leave me alone.

Time found the Yiga interesting, well less the Yiga themselves and more the man who led them. Their Master Kohga seemed to enjoy his pleasures, a good smoke or soft clothes, and so him choosing to go against the Sheikah legacy seemed very disjointed and unusual. The more Time watched him the more he questioned because what could possibly have driven such a person to reject everything like that, and how easily could it have happened to someone else?

Of course Time knew about the bloody legacy that the Royal Family left behind, his own father had been a victim of that though he only found out once he had become a Royal Guard... and yet... He had so many questions about why. Questions that had been asked and things that had been ignored. Ignored like the torture chambers he'd found as a child, ignored like the twisted magic and souls that haunted those very places and screamed out, begging to be cleansed.

Time could understand why all the others followed the man, he genuinely seemed to care about them in a way that seemed all too rare among groups like theirs. Why the man chose to follow a broken shadow instead of building things anew in his own skill, following the tragic past of a people who had followed the wrong person and been shunned away for too long when they should have been welcomed and helped out of that shadow, that was beyond him.

Master Kohga seemed too smart to miss the signs that things weren't what they seemed and as tragic as Time found it he could do nothing. He could not change things that already happened, he could not guide this history along a new path... all he could do was watch and wonder. He could only see that brilliance as it became guided awry and lead to darkness and death, and mourn it as the Yiga chased their own doom with that darkness. Maybe some day they would be helped to become better, to be themselves separate from the Sheikah and the echos of the ancient Gerudo... Time could only hope.

[starmocha]

Little Dino [Sylus + Daughter ★ 2555 words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] Sylus has a little dinosaur problem. A/N: OK another crow dad and his baby birdie ficlet because they bring me joy 🥹 istg I am working on those wips I promised on my tumblr. But…birb dad and birb baby… 🥺

“Mr. Sylus, we have new intel about that night on the 4th.”

“Mmhmm,” Sylus absently answered the person on speakerphone as he leaned back against the desk in his study. His eyes keenly followed the quick movements of the little green dinosaur who walked in uninvited to his study carrying an armful of plushies and setting them on his couch in a neat order: Smiley Dino and Sunny Dino. He watched as she scurried out the room for a few minutes, her long tail swaying back and forth.

He suppressed a chuckle. It seemed his daughter was really enjoying the dinosaur onesie her mother had gotten for her recently. She had insisted on wearing only this outfit for the last week. Sylus turned his attention back to his phone call.

“Now, you were saying there was a mole at the auction?”

“Yes, sir, we believe it to be…”

Sylus discreetly eyed his study door when he saw it pushed further open and his little dinosaur-daughter walked in with another armful of plushies. She scampered over to the couch and set them neatly next to the ones already sitting. The little girl then tried to climb up the couch before she paused half-way, seemingly remembering something. She slid back down to the floor with a soft “oof” and turned around, running pass Sylus.

Before she passed him completely, Sylus subtly stepped on her tail, making the toddler paused, confused. She turned around, her mouth opening wide in shock at the sight of her tail caught under her father’s foot. The little girl grabbed her tail and started tugging helplessly, but her efforts were in vain as it remained trapped under this sudden obstacle. She looked up at her father, and Sylus pretended he was looking elsewhere, appearing as if he was entirely preoccupied with his call.

“Yes, yes, we can do a meetup later this week,” Sylus answered as he kept an eye on his daughter from his peripheral vision. He casually crossed his arms over his chest and hummed softly. “Now there is this protocore incident I have been meaning to have you look into…”

The little girl pouted from the lack of attention and continued trying to tug her tail free. She looked up helplessly, shocked that her father still didn’t notice her. She gave another quick feeble tug.

Sylus remained feigning obliviousness. He almost lost his composure when he caught sight of his daughter’s angry pout and the little glare directed at him. She really did look like her mother in this moment, Sylus couldn’t help but thought with delight.

“Mr. Sylus, we can arrange a meeting on—”

“Daddy! My tail!”

There was an awkward pause in the room after the sudden outburst.

“Um…Mr. Sylus…”

“Oh, dear,” Sylus said with mock-worry, “I seem to have a little dinosaur problem in my study right now…”

“Uhhh���I’ll call you back later, sir.”

The line immediately went dead. Sylus chuckled and redirected his entire attention to the angry little girl at his feet. He tsked softly.

“Now what do we have here?”

“Tail! My tail, Daddy!” The little girl continued fruitlessly tugging her tail to emphasize her point, but Sylus seemed to press his foot down even harder.

“I see that,” he said, feigning astonishment, “That is quite a problem, isn’t it, baby?”

The little toddler continued to glare at her father.

“My, my, that is such a ferocious look,” Sylus teased, smirking. Just like her mother…

An idea seemed to pop into the little girl’s head. She mustered up her scariest voice and then with her little hands held up to claw, she let out a loud, “Rawr!”

“Oh, dear, I am very frightened,” Sylus said, barely able to hide his amusement, “Whatever will I do…if only I have Miss Hunter here to protect me…but alas, she is currently prioritizing Linkon City over her husband…”

The girl sulked when she realized her scare tactic didn’t work. She stepped closer and started to push her whole weight against Sylus’ leg, grunting and whining as she tried to free her captured tail. Sylus started laughing when his daughter began to beat his leg with her little fists.

“Alright, alright, enough of the love taps. I’ll move my foot, baby,” he said, lifting his leg, but before the little girl could run off, Sylus used his Evol to lift her into the air. He manipulated his Evol to carry her closer to him until the toddler was floating face-to-face with her father. He smiled at her adorable angry glare.

“Do I get a kiss before Miss Dino runs off?”

“No!” she crossed her arms stubbornly.

Sylus laughed, shaking his head in amusement. “Is this little birdie angry at me now?”

“Daddy, I’m not a birdie today!” she said defiantly, “I’m a dinosaur! Rawr!”

He laughed again. “Pardon me,” he said, “Then Miss Dino, may I request a kiss before you run off?”

She continued to pout. Sylus took this opportunity to suddenly take her into his arms, tickling her and kissing her cheek without mercy until she was laughing and gasping for breath.

“Daddy! Daddy! Not fair!”

“Mmhmm,” Sylus agreed, planting another long kiss on his daughter’s cheek, “Daddy never plays fair.”

He shifted her in his arms and motioned to his cheek with his finger. “Now kiss.”

He smiled as his daughter reluctantly kissed him.

“Try again, Little Miss,” he said, tickling her again and chuckling alongside her helpless giggles.

This time his daughter smiled and kissed his cheek more sincerely.

“Good girl,” he said, pecking her cheek again before setting her back down to the floor. He gave her bottom a quick playful swat, sighing in feigned exasperation. “Now, what is this little dino doing to my study?”

“We’re keeping Daddy company!”

“‘We’?”

“Uh huh.” His daughter smiled cheekily and pointed at the couch with the array of colorful plushies sitting on it. “Me, Smiley Dino, Sunny Dino, Azure Dino, and Grape Dino!”

“What happened to Grumpy Crow and his friends?”

“Time-out!”

Sylus pretended to look startled by the firm exclamation. “And what crime did they commit to warrant such punishment?”

The little girl huffed angrily. “They were mean to Smiley Dino!”

Without missing a beat, Sylus gasped. “And how were they mean?”

“They said Smiley Dino couldn’t join their group,” the girl answered her father.

“Well, that is truly awful,” Sylus said sincerely, kneeling down to his daughter’s height. He patted her head. “And you put them in time-out, baby?”

She nodded her head furiously. “Smiley Dino was very sad, Daddy…”

“I’m sure he was,” Sylus answered back solemnly, “But you know, baby, perhaps your plushies need to learn to play along together?”

The girl looked down, her hands clasped behind her back as she shuffled her feet reluctantly. “But they don’t want to be friends, Daddy…”

Sylus smiled and gave his daughter’s cheek a playful pinch. She giggled and swatted at his hand until he let go. “Come on, my little dino, let’s go and have a chat with your plushies.”

He picked her up and as he carried her out of his study, Sylus also used his Evol to pick up the dino plushies. Swirls of energy wrapped around each waiting plushie, lifting them into the air to follow after the father-daughter duo. Sylus smiled when he heard his daughter giggling delightfully, catching sight of her waving happily over his shoulder at the line of dino plushies floating behind them.

When they arrived at the little toddler’s bedroom, Sylus was unprepared for the sight of a jail made of pillows incarcerating four crow plushies in the middle of the large bedroom. As he walked closer, he huffed in amusement at seeing the four crow plushies tossed haphazardly inside the jail.

“Well, this jail looks comfier than the one I was in…”

“Huh?” The little girl turned to face her father with a look of utter bewilderment.

Sylus shook his head, chuckling more to himself. “Never mind, baby.”

“Daddy, down, down!” the little girl cried out, wriggling in his arms.

Sylus chuckled again and lowered her down to the floor. “Alright, alright. Impatient little dino today, aren’t you?”

Sylus also motioned with his finger to bring the dino plushies over and they surrounded the pillow jail. He smiled as his daughter looked up, her eyes wide with delight at seeing her plushies floating in the air before they gently descended. She immediately picked up Smiley Dino and hugged him tightly in her little arms.

“Now, is there a reason the crows and dinosaurs don’t get along?” Sylus asked as he knelt down to his daughter’s level. He watched as she furrowed her brows in contemplation.

“Because…because…they said Smiley Dino has a weird face…”

“Well, that is mean,” Sylus quipped. “Do you think he has a weird face?”

She shook her head furiously. “Smiley Dino is very cute!”

Sylus chuckled at her excited exclamation. “Very cute,” he agreed and gave his daughter’s cheek a gentle stroke, “But not as cute as my little dino right here.”

She puffed up her cheeks at him, seemingly annoyed. She hugged her plushie tighter. “Daddy, you’re making Smiley Dino sad, too!”

“I am just speaking the truth,” he answered affably, “Do you think I am like Grumpy Crow?”

Without a single of second of hesitation, she nodded her head.

“Well, maybe I am,” Sylus continued with a smile. He picked up the Grumpy Crow plushie, turning it around to scrutinize. “Perhaps Grumpy Crow and his friends didn’t mean to make Smiley Dino sad.”

The toddler looked at her father confused, and Sylus elaborated further: “Maybe the crows aren’t very good with their words…”

He held the crow plushie close to the dino plushie in his daughter’s arms. “Maybe he meant to say Smiley Dino has a very unique face. He’s special.”

“Daddy, is that…good?” the little girl asked tentatively.

Sylus nodded. “It can be good.” Sylus paused and raised the crow plushie close to his ear, appearing to be listening intently. His expression switched between different emotions, seemingly contemplative one second and then intrigued the next. “Ah, I see. Yes, yes, this is a big misunderstanding…”

“Daddy? What is it?” The girl walked over and tugged at her father’s sleeve. She pouted when he started laughing for seemingly no reason.

“Oh, Grumpy Crow was just telling me they didn’t mean to make Smiley Dino sad,” Sylus explained, continuing, “They also want to be friends with the dinos.”

“They do?” The girl’s eyes widened in astonishment.

“They do, baby,” he answered. He held the crow plushie out to his daughter. “Look, Grumpy Crow wants to apologize and be friends with Smiley Dino.”

The girl slowly smiled and held her dino plushie out. The two plushies ‘hugged’ before the little girl took them both into her arms to snuggle. She looked at her father with bright eyes and a toothy grin. “Daddy, they’re friends now!”

“Splendid,” he answered, “Now you have twice the number of friends to play with, right?”

She nodded happily, and gave each plushie a friendly kiss on the head.

Sylus suddenly noticed something peculiar. In the corner of his daughter’s room, there was a little canopy reading nook. Child-sized bookcases lined the wall filled with different children’s books and underneath the canopy was a soft white fur rug with different sized throw pillows surrounding the area. He noticed a few plushies were also strewn about on the rug.

“Wait, what’s this?” Sylus stood up and walked over to the reading area, picking up one of the peculiar plushies laying on the rug.

“Happy Snowman!” his daughter declared, dropping her two plushies and running over excitedly. “Mommy gave him to me.”

“Did…did she win it for you?”

“I dunno, Daddy,” his daughter answered him with a little innocent shrug. She then excitedly picked up two different plushies and held them up to her father proudly. “Look, Daddy, this is Artsy Birb and Bunbun!”

“They are…cute,” Sylus answered, tone stiff, though thankfully the little three-year-old didn’t seem to notice. Sylus knelt down to his daughter’s height again and smiled forcibly. In as even a tone as he could muster, he spoke, “Baby, why don’t you let Daddy hold onto these plushies for a while?”

His daughter tilted her head, confused, making the hood of her dinosaur onesie drooped to cover her face. Sylus fixed her hood and gave her a reassuring smile as he continued in the same tone as earlier, “Daddy is just borrowing them for a bit. I’ll give them back later…after I speak with Mommy…”

The little girl gave her father a toothy grin and nodded, not particularly caring either way. Sylus answered with another smile and with a wave of his hand, he made the three plushies disappear. He suddenly blinked in confusion when his daughter turned around and ran over to her bookshelf and picked up a seemingly random book, though it seemed to be quite a bit thicker than the other ones on the shelves.

“Daddy, story please!”

Sylus chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Miss Dino,” he answered courteously. He settled down in the reading nook, laying casually on his side with one elbow propped up and his head resting in his hand. Sylus smiled as his daughter scurried over and also settled down, handing him the book.

Sylus blinked in confusion before reading aloud the title of the book he was handed: “Analysis of Firearms Maintenance and Its Practical Applications…” He peered down at his daughter’s smiling face. He huffed in baffled amusement, asking, “Baby, did you take this from my bookshelf?”

She nodded her head eagerly and Sylus laughed. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Mischievous little dino, aren’t you?” He rubbed his nose against her cheek, causing her to giggle harder. “I didn’t realize I was raising a little klepto-dino.”

“Oh! Daddy, Daddy, my plushies…”

Sylus smiled. He motioned with his hand, and swirls of energy wrapped around the crow and dino plushies, lifting them into the air. The plushies all floated over, circling around the reading nook area briefly before one by one, they were gently lowered to surround both father and daughter. Sylus motioned for the Grumpy Crow and Smiley Dino plushies closer and his daughter happily grabbed both to snuggle.

“Happy now?”

The girl nodded, beaming brightly as her hood fell to cover her face again. She giggled and lifted the hood off before she cuddled closer to her father. She pointed excitedly at the book Sylus was holding. “Daddy, the book, the book!”

“Bossy little dino…” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Alright, page one…”

As he calmly read the book, his deep, soothing voice seemed to lull the little girl to sleep. After a few minutes, she turned away from the book, yawning, and clung to Sylus’ shirt, her small fingers absently rubbing the fabric for comfort. Sylus pulled her closer and he rested his head on a pillow as he continued to read aloud several more pages. Soon, though, the book was laid facedown, forgotten, as Sylus also found himself drifting off to sleep.

Soft, even breathing filled the room, and dreams of playful little dinosaurs and crows filled a little girl’s head as she slept peacefully, safe in her father’s protective embrace and surrounded by her cherished plushies.

[navybrat817]

Pencil You In

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you've been working too hard and need a break. Word Count: Over 1.3k Warnings: Fluff, crying, reader is tired, slight insecurities, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Partially inspired by an image the beautiful @bucksangel sent me and life stretching me a bit thin, here's a little ficlet. Lovelies, take breaks. You deserve them and you are more than enough! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You slumped in your chair of your home office as you reread the sentence on the screen for what felt like the hundredth time. Weariness had already settled deep in your bones long before you looked over the document, the words blurring together the longer you stared. Blinking a few times didn’t help as you reached for your mug, only to remember that you had finished your extra helping of caffeine an hour ago. Begrudgingly, you set it down and huffed as if it was somehow the fault of the cup that it didn’t automatically fill itself.

“Almost done,” you whispered to yourself, straightening up so you could do one last readthrough.

It was a long week in what felt like a series of long weeks. Almost every minute of your schedule was accounted for lately and all you wanted to do was relax. People were depending on you though and you could relax over the weekend.

Hopefully.

“You should take a break.”

You didn’t turn around immediately at the sound of Bucky’s gentle voice, but you did manage a smile when you glanced over your shoulder a moment later. He didn’t return the smile, concern swirling in his blue irises. You were afraid to stare into the pool of his eyes for too long out of fear of drowning.

And, god, you were drowning. It would be so easy to reach out and take the lifeline that was his hand. To just admit that you need some time to rest because you were tired. Hadn’t you earned it? Didn’t you deserve a break after the hard work you put in?

But maybe you didn’t deserve it. What you did wasn’t as important as someone like Bucky. You firmly shut the door on that thought before the words could make their way out of your mouth. If he could’ve read your mind and known you thought that, it would’ve disappointed him. Not in you, but whoever made you decide that what you did wasn’t enough.

Because you were always expected to do and be more.

“I will in a few minutes,” you said.

He let out a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms, making you tear your gaze away. You didn’t comment on his disheveled hair, like he kept running a hand through it. Likely because he worried about you stretching yourself too thin. “That was what you said a few minutes ago,” he reminded you, his voice light instead of accusatory.

You shut your eyes in the hopes that the tears wouldn’t come and took a breath. “I really will this time,” you promised, giving the document one last readthrough once you got your emotions under control.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

If you wouldn’t take a break for your own sake, you had to do it for Bucky.

“Okay. I think that’s at a good stopping point,” you said, making you saved it before you closed it out. If you lost all of that after everything you put into it so far, you would’ve lost it. Before you could move to the next task on your list though, an alert popped up on your screen. Your heart dropped to your stomach because you didn’t remember scheduling anything else today. You didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for more. “What is this?” You mumbled before you opened it.

Reading the subject line, you did a double take.

CUDDLE WITH BUCKY

You covered your mouth to smother your giggles. “I don’t remember scheduling this meeting.”

“It’s a good thing I remembered, baby,” he said as you spun around in your chair, sauntering over to you with a smirk as you tried not to laugh again. “It’s a mandatory meeting in our bed. No rescheduling. And I expect it to go the full hour. Maybe longer.”

“How did you manage to set up an alert on my computer?” You asked as he grasped your hands and helped you to your feet, having to steady yourself a bit when your head spun.

At least you remembered to eat. Well, that wasn’t technically true. Bucky brought you your meal earlier because he was the best boyfriend you could ask for.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he winked before he brought a palm to your cheek, his gaze shifting to something more serious. “But it seemed to get your attention.”

Your cheeks burned as you averted your gaze. “I wasn’t…” you trailed off, an apology on the tip of your tongue. Had you neglected him this past week? Or the ones before that?

Did he think you were a bad girlfriend?

Bucky slid his hand to your chin so you’d look at him again. “Hey,” he whispered when your lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean anything by that and I’m not upset with you. I don’t think I could ever be upset with you. But, baby, you’ve been working your ass off even more than usual. I’m so fucking proud of you, but you need to take a real break.”

Your eyes burned, but no tears surfaced as he searched your gaze. “But-”

“What is it you always tell me about work?”

“That it’ll be there tomorrow, but we may not be” you answered, sighing. He was right. You couldn’t let work and expectations others set for you take control of your life. “I told you that the last time you ran yourself ragged with missions.”

He brought his mouth to your forehead to kiss it, his scruff tickling your skin. “And now I’m returning the favor,” he said against your skin. “So, come to bed. Lay with me. Just…”

“Be present,” you finished.

No phones. No work. No outside forces interfering. Just the pleasure of being with each other.

“Exactly,” he said, tugging you by the hand. “C’mon. We’re both late for our meeting.”

“Yes, Sir,” you teased, smiling when he groaned.

“This is a cuddle meeting, but it’ll turn into gently fucking you to sleep if you keep talking like that,” he warned you, pulling you to bed a bit faster.

“You say that like that’s a bad thing,” you smiled, gasping as he gently pushed you onto the mattress.

He braced a hand on each side of your head as he leaned down, his breath fanning your face when you whimpered. “Sex after we cuddle,” he breathed, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then we can cuddle again.”

You leaned up to brush your lips against his. “Deal,” you agreed.

Once he maneuvered you to the middle of the bed, his large body spooning yours, you couldn’t stop the tears that came. You bit your lip so he wouldn’t hear your soft sobs, but he must’ve sensed them as he grazed his nose along your neck affectionately and pulled you closer in his arms. You didn’t realize just how much you needed to be held until then.

It was as if all the stress faded away.

“I really am proud of you. Hardest working woman I know and always taking care of me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your pulse as more tears hit the pillow.

“Because I love you, Bucky,” you whispered. Who wouldn’t want to take care of someone as amazing as James Buchanan Barnes?

“And I love you, too. So much,” he swore to you, turning you in his arms so he could kiss the tears away. The first kiss lingered on your cheek as he let out a shuddering breath. The sight of you crying likely broke his heart, but he didn’t say anything about it for your sake. “So let me be your personal hero today, okay? Let me take care of you and show that you’re more than enough.”

The words were so heartfelt and touching that you were surprised you didn’t melt on the spot. “You already are,” you promised before his lips met yours.

And he could pencil himself in for cuddles and more whenever he wanted.

I'll say it again, lovelies, you deserve breaks and you are more than enough. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[carolmunson]

almost fell into that hole in your life.

orange colored sky set list.

older!modern!eddie x thirties!reader summary: ficlet. you haven't been acting like yourself these days and eddie notices. unfortunately for you, eddie can't help but wanna make you feel better. tw: implied depressed reader, alcohol mention. implied praise kink if you squint really hard? still 18+ tho! songspiration: black balloon | the goo goo dolls

Eddie doesn't like it when things are too quiet, it makes him hear the static in his brain -- gets too aware. He can hear his eyes blink, the sound of his breath, so when you've been clammed up on the couch all night on your phone he can't help but start to make noise.

"Babe," he says from the kitchen, "Do you want me to make quesadillas or something? I have some shredded chicken I wanted to use up."

"Hm," you respond. He barely hears it, padding his way over in his 'house slides' that you like to tease him about. Such an old man.

"I was thinking quesadillas and I can make some margs, would you like that?" he asks, standing at the end of the couch. The way you're laying on your side, eyes glazed over, is enough to let him know that you haven't heard a word he's said for the last hour. Just scrolling with with a glassy look, numbing yourself ten times over.

"Peach," he says, albiet little sharply, "Are you listening to me?"

"Hmm, no way, that's wild," you respond, a zombie in his midst -- replying just to reply, to fake like you're hearing him. Eddie bites his tongue and then his cheeks to sting the frustration out.

"Hey," he says again, ringed hand reaching down to squeeze your chenille blanket covered thigh, "You hearin' me?"

You finally look up and see his face and the world around you comes into view. In your trance, the world outside had become night, the TV was off, you weren't even sure how much time had passed since you plopped yourself under Eddie's blanket on the sectional in his livingroom.

"Yeah," you squeak out, heart racing because you can tell he's disappointed, "Y-yeah I'm hearing you."

"Then what did I just say, huh?" he doesn't sound mad, or accusatory. Worse, he sounds disheartened. And even worse of worse, he sounds worried.

"Um...it was about um, you were asking about food," you try to answer confidently, and you know it was food adjacent, but you aren't sure.

"Do you want me to make quesadillas?" he asks again, "I have some chicken I wanna use up and I got all the stuff for 'em."

"Yeah," you nod, "Yeah that sounds nice."

"You wanna come help me?" he asks, "I can make us some drinks while we work."

"Uh," you start, that familiar pull tugging in your chest -- laying down feels good, getting lost back in your phone will feel better. It's so comfortable to hide under his chenille blanket and tune out. It feels better like that.

"Please?" You hesitate again, but you're not fast enough to redirect Eddie's attention, and it's then that he catches it in your eyes. The ache. He comes around the the front of the couch to sit in the divot of your thighs and chest, hand moving from your thigh to your shoulder. "What's goin' on?" his low voice twangs at your chest.

"Nothing," you urge, but your voice is too high and so are your eye brows. He doesn't believe you for a second.

"I don't like when you lie to me, peach," he confesses, "Don't lie to me, please."

"Psh, okay dad," you tease, trying to lighten the mood while you get up.

"I'm not kidding with you," Eddie's timbre keeps you in place, "I'm not playing around, babe. What's goin' on with you? You've been -- y'know -- you've been really I dunno -- inward this week. I'm missin' you."

"I'm okay," you urge again, but now you're too quiet. You don't mean it. He raises his brows and blinks at you in disbelief.

"I promise, I'm okay," you continue, "I'll be okay. It's fine. I'm fine."

"You're not making a great case for yourself." "Well then it's a good thing I'm not a lawyer," you joke again. He doesn't buy it.

"You're sad, baby," he tells you, reaching up to hold your cheek in his palm, "Why can't you just tell me? It's okay that you're sad."

"I'm not!" you try to say cheerily again, but the words get stuck in yout throat -- eyes stinging with wetness after hours of being open.

"I'm not sad," you say breathlessly, choking on the lie while a tear sneaks its way onto your lash line.

"Oh, sugar," he coos while you try to tread the water of your feelings -- flailing to keep your head above the pain in your chest.

"No, no, I'm okay -- I'm fine!" but you're starting to cry now and it kills him. Before you know it, he's made his way under the chenille blanket with you, nose to nose.

"Hey, hey, it's okay if you're not fine," he coaches you through your deep breaths while you try to guide yourself out of a full blown sob, "You can tell me. I'm here. I'm here, okay?"

"I'm sorry," your voice becoming a wraith of itself.

"Don't be sorry," he presses himself against you, enough so that you can feel the pressure of him and the pressure of the back of the couch on both sides, "Just talk to me."

"I don't..." you shrug, "I don't have anything to say."

"Just sad?" he asks, you feel an arm snake around you between your back and the the couch, pressing your chest to his. You nod, it feels pathetic, but you're cornered now and there's no use in arguing with someone who was born to win every argument he's ever had.

"Yeah," you mumble weakly, "Yeah, I'm sad. Think I'm more than sad."

He nods, his demeanor softening to something gentle -- heart reaching out to yours with caution like you'll run away, "Yeah, honey I can tell. You really haven't been actin' like yourself these days."

"I just don't wanna bother you," you confess, the brick coming off your chest, "I always get over it, I don't wanna like -- bum you out if it's not like...if it's not a big deal."

"I don't care if it's a big deal or a little deal," his heart bleeds for you while he speaks, "I don't care if you're gonna be over it in fiteen minutes. When you're hurtin' like this -- babe you gotta tell me. You gotta talk to me. Or else how're we gonna make this work?"

"It's just not important."

Eddie can tell that you mean it when you say it; he's never felt more frustrated with whoever convinced you that this was true.

"It's super important to me," he encourages, "Your shit is like, top of my list babe."

"Top of your list?" you crack a weak smile.

"You think the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person I think of when I go to sleep isn't on the top of my priority list?"

"Okay, well now you're doing to much, Ed," your face scrunches in the way that he loves, not letting you totally get out of his hold yet while you try to squirm away.

"Hey, look at me, before you get up," he cups your cheek again, gently, your eyes meeting his brown ones. Eddie leans in for a kiss, a soft reminder that he's not going anywhere anytime soon -- not that you'd want him to. Not with lips like that.

When you break away, his nose nuzzles yours, coasting up to press another gentle kiss on the center of your forehead. Long and intentional, warm enough to get you to close your eyes.

"It's gonna be okay," he assures, "It's okay if you're not, but -- I gotcha until you're feelin' better, hm?"

You nod, sniffling snottily and wiping your wet cheek.

"I am ordering us quesadillas," he whispers, stealing another kiss from you, "Because if you're going to rot on my couch, I'm gonna make you rot next to me."

"We're rotting!" you cheer half heartedly, pouting when he gets up to get his phone for take out. When he finishes, he holds his hand out and you sheepishly put your hand in his.

Eddie curls bounce when he shakes his head, "Peach, you know what I'm asking for."

"No," you frown, "I need it to rot."

"Peach...please?" it's more of a warning than a question, and you slide your phone into his hand. He doesn't check it, but he knows that if you don't have it 'locked away' in his sweats pocket for a while you'll just end up zoning out the same way you did before.

"Thanks, sugar," he smirks, "You're so good."

Your cheeks burn at the priase, rolling your eyes with a grin that cracks against your features, "Don't. We're not doing anything sexy."

"Yeah I know," he shrugs innocently, finding his way next to you again, "But when you smile like that, who am I to deny you a lil' somethin'?"

He dims the lights in the open space from the remote on the coffee table, settling in while you make yourself comfortable in his side. Eddie keeps you close on nights like this, when he knows you're on unsteady ground. You're still quiet, but the start of another Twilight Zone marathon keeps you more alert than before. With steady breaths you start to relax in what he'd deem a healthier way than before, and the quiet doesn't make his brain too fuzzy this time around. In the still of the living room and the hum of Rod Serlings voice, he feels you squeeze his hand -- a silent thank you. He doesn't think he could be any more in love.

[luveline]

hi jade!! i love eddie and roan always, can we get a ficlet from their earlier days where roan is smaller. just whatever you want to write about, thanks love you💖

Eddie isn’t sure how you’ve ended up like this, but he’ll take it. He’s never laid in someone’s lap, at least not with a girl he was dating, never had someone like him enough to start scratching his back of their own volition. You draw sweetly gentle lines up and down the length of him with your nails, never pausing, an automatic expression of love. 

He’s pathetic, pressing his face to your stomach. He really hopes you love him. 

“Can I sleepover?” you whisper. 

“You can move in,” he mumbles. 

“You shouldn’t flirt so much.” Your hand climbs up to his hair, where you continue your awful lovely scratching. “Can I have a kiss?” 

You shouldn’t be allowed to whisper like that. Eddie turns his face away from your stomach and lifts his chin. He’s spoiled —you lean down and kiss him. He doesn’t do any of the hard work. 

“Daddy?” 

Eddie touches your face and finally forces himself to sit up. “Ro?” 

She’s wearing pyjamas you bought for her with good intention but misinformation, the legs pooling around her feet and the sleeves over her hands. Her smile showcases a row of pearly, baby teeth. She looks cute, but her hair is alarming. 

“What have you done?” Eddie asks, cringing. “Babe, are those stickles again?” 

“They’re stuck,” she says. She realises he’s alarmed and begins to panic, reaching up, “Oh no!” 

“It’s okay,” Eddie says, quickly burying his own emotions. He should’ve done so from the start, but you’d yanked his defences down and left him a slovenly mess from all your sweetness. Plus, it’s not like he’s the calmest guy in the world. “Baby, it’s fine. Come here, let me see.” 

“Wait,” she says tearfully. 

“Baby,” he says again, softer still, “come here, I’ll fix it. I promise.”

“Cross your heart?” she asks. 

Eddie pouts at her wobbly lip. “I cross my heart, Roanie. Just come sit down.” 

You squeeze his thigh with a distinct sense of pride, though he has no idea what he’s done. Roan drags herself to the couch and Eddie picks her up to sit her between your leg and his, getting a better look at the problem, red, green, and yellow stickle bricks lost in her hair. It’s not as bad as it seems closer up. 

He draws a line with tow of his knuckles across her shoulder. “It’s fine,” he says, kissing her cheek, “it’s okay, no biggie. I’ll go get a comb and we’ll brush them all out! Your beautiful hair will be fine.” 

“Thank you,” she says. 

You make a funny sound. “Aw, Ro.” You take a stickle brick into your hand carefully. “Can I help too?” 

“Please, please.” She turns her huge eyes on you and grabs your arm. “Please don’t pull.” 

“Never, babe.” 

You and Eddie take some time to pull the bricks from her hair, their tines like Velcro stuck between her dark curls. It takes ages, and she grows frustrated, but Eddie holds her hand in his and says, “Just be patient, sweetheart, you gotta wait,” while feeling especially tender. He forgets sometimes that she’s not his mini me after all, that her experiences of fear are fresh and new. “It’s going okay, Ro, it just takes ages.” 

“It’s hurting,” she whines. 

He doesn’t believe her, but maybe it is a little uncomfortable. “Do you want to take a break? You’ll have to stay really still.” 

“Please pull them out.” 

“Alright, babe.” He tucks his hair behind his ears. “Let’s do this.” 

Eventually, with Roan near tears and Eddie worried you’re overwhelmed, you untangle the three bricks from her hair and brush away the matted tangles. “Sooo silky,” you murmur, leading the comb down to her small shoulders. 

“I think we’re done. You are restored to your former glory, babe,” Eddie says. 

Roan lifts her hands up and feels along her head. “No bricks?” 

“Totally fixed.” 

Roan stands up on the couch. Eddie eyes her suspiciously, but she wraps her arms around him and kisses his cheek, reminiscent of how Eddie thanks her when she’s being good. “Thank you, dad.” 

He snorts. Roan beams at him and spins on her socked foot to hug you. You don’t get a kiss. You look overjoyed anyhow, quick to wrap her up and pat her back. “Thank you,” she says. 

“You’re welcome, princess.” You meet his eyes over her hair. “You’re more than welcome. No more stickles in your hair through, right?” 

“Right,” she says with an eager nod. 

Eddie shakes his head at you. This is the third time this month. 

[sukirichi]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐏

+ umemiya hajime & togame jo (was gonna include suo but i got nervous characterizing him, sobs.) + angst, minimal fluff. mentions of timeskip. (pssp!! i’m new to writing windbreaker but if you guys want to request ficlets/headcanons like these, feel free!) + 3.4k wc

divider from @/saradika-graphics

— UMEMIYA HAJIME.

The night’s cool air bit at your skin as you stepped out of the restaurant. Pulling your coat tighter around you, you fight back the urge to look back at your date. The blind date your friends had set up was, to your surprise, not entirely disastrous. He was a charming architect, and a friend of a friend. Had a nice smile and the prettiest set of teeth you’d seen, with the kind of humor that elicited polite, yet casual laughter from you. It was… a good date.

Still, you couldn’t shake off the lingering emptiness in your heart – the void no one had been able to fill since he’d left.

You walked slowly, your thoughts drifting back to the past like it always did. You and Hajime had started dating when you were teenagers, a time when holding hands and stealing cheek kisses were the biggest deal between couples who loved a little too much, and knew a little too less.

Your relationship with him had been a well-guarded secret. Your parents were strict, said you were “too young to know anything about love.” Hajime was also the leader of a gang, albeit with noble intentions. Not that your parents would understand – they hear the word ‘gangster’ and immediately thought (or would’ve, if they’d met him) as a troublemaker. They wouldn’t take the time to know that his gang protected people from the real threats, the dangerous gangsters who roamed around the neighborhood. Your father would never understand it, and he would never have accepted Hajime.

Your love had been intense, the kind that only young hearts could know and experience only once in your lives. You’d whispered promises under the stars of marrying each other someday, stole kisses in hidden corners, and dreamt of a future together. A future that consisted of grandkids running out a minivan, and your hair would match Hajime’s iciness with old age.

Until that day where he just… left.

Hajime had broken up with you without warning, without explanation. One day he was there, and the next he was gone. It felt like your heart had been brutally ripped out from your chest. You remember crying for days, months even, waiting for him to come back – to tell you it was a mistake. But he never did. He disappeared, leaving behind only memories and an aching void that hadn’t been filled for the next years.

So lost in thought, you didn’t notice the figure standing by the restaurant’s entrance until you nearly walked into him. You looked up, your breath catching in your throat.

White hair, icy blue eyes, and smooth, pale skin turning red from the cold.

Hajime.

He’d changed since you last saw him. His hair was shorter, short enough that he couldn’t gel it and have you brush his bangs back for him like you always used to. His face was more mature, too, but his eyes – the same warm, kind eyes you’d spent hours staring into – were unmistakable. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the world around you blurring into an insignificant image.

“Hajime,” you finally managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

He says your name softly, like your name itself was the world and he had to hold it with steady, careful hands. And he used to, once. Before he let it go. He scans your face as you gaze back at him, unmoving, as if trying to make sure if you were real. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” you agree with a short nod, your heart pounding. “What are you doing here?”

When Hajime smiled, it held no happiness in it. “I was just passing by. How have you been?”

“Good,” you lie, forcing a smile as you switch your weight from foot to foot. “I just finished a date, actually,” you jerk a thumb back at the restaurant, and Hajime’s gaze follows it.

“I see,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I, uh… I hope it went well.”

“It did,” you replied, though the words felt hollow despite your honesty. That was the worst part, it seemed. The date did go well – he was charming, gentlemanly, and seemed genuinely interested in you. Had it been another universe where you’d met, you would’ve agreed at his offer to a second date, but you didn’t. You couldn’t. Because in this universe they had given you Hajime, took him away from you, and cruelly made your paths cross again. “What about you? What have you been up to?”

“Oh, nothing interesting. But I did leave the gang,” he informs, making your eyes widen. “I’ve been working in community outreach, helping at-risk youth. Trying to make a difference.”

“That sounds amazing,” you say, and you mean it. It isn’t surprising that Hajime has gone down this path; he’d always been full of compassion and integrity. A truly good man at his core. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing well.”

Silence falls between you, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Even after so many years, you could read him like the back of your hand. Hajime had always worn his heart on a sleeve, the longing in his eyes mirroring your own. “Hajime,” your voice breaks as you dared take a step closer, “Why did you leave? Why did you disappear without a word?”

He looks away, his face falling. “Your dad found out about us,” he confesses quietly, “He asked me to leave you alone for your safety. He said he would do whatever it took to keep you away from harm and I – I’m not invincible, you know? He was right. Even if I did my best to protect you, as long as you’re with me, you were bound to get hurt. I couldn’t let that happen.”

“So you just left? Without telling me why?”

“I thought it was the best way to protect you,” he said, his voice pained. “I didn’t want to put you in any danger. I thought you would be better off without me.”

“But I wasn’t,” you whispered, angrily wiping away the tears that fell. “I was heartbroken, Hajime. I waited for you. Do you know how long I spent hanging around the neighborhood, hoping you’d show up and tell me you’d changed your mind? I-I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”

Hajime steps closer, regret pooling at his eyes. “I never stopped loving you. Not for a single day. Leaving you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

All those years of pain and longing rose to the surface. “I missed you so much,” you say with a shaky voice. “Every day, Hajime. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he echoes, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought about you all the time. I wanted to come back, to explain everything, but I was afraid. Afraid that you’d moved on, that you wouldn’t want to see me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to stead yourself, hands clenching at your sides. “I never moved on, Hajime,” you whispered, “No one else could ever take your place.”

He reached out, gently brushing the tears that fell in a steady stream down your cheek. The warmth of his hand was welcomed in the night’s cold air, and you leant into it despite yourself. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbles, “I should have fought harder for us. I should have told you the truth.”

The two of you stood there, the world around you forgotten as you were lost in each other’s eyes. The years apart had been cruel, but in that moment, it felt like no time had passed at all. The familiar warmth of his gaze, the gentle curve of his smile – it all came rushing back to you, as vivid as the day you first met. The first time he’d taken your hand, the first time he’d hesitantly, yet eagerly, kissed you. You were just teenagers then, reckless and full of dreams, hiding in the shadows of your parents’ disapproval.

You could still recall the thrill of sneaking out in the middle of the night to meet him, the adrenaline of running into his arms through the streets, or the way he would wrap his arms around you to keep you warm on those chilly nights. The way he looked at you during those secret meetings, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and mischief. And his laughter, so genuine and infectious, had been your favorite sound.

You’d shared everything – your fears, your hopes, your plans for a future that seemed so close yet somehow always just out of reach.

“Is it too late for us?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Hajime shakes his head, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. “It’s never too late. If you’ll have me again, I want to make things right. I want to be with you – to be the right one for you. Someone you wouldn’t have to hide anymore.”

“I want that, too,” you say, your heart still full of love and longing for this man. “I never want to hide anymore, Hajime.”

— TOGAME JO.

When Hajime pulls you into his arms, holding you close, you feel whole again for the first time in years. The past had been painful, but it also led you back to each other – just like how he once said he would always look for you, in every lifetime, in every timeline. And as he pressed a gentle kiss at the top of your head, you knew and believed, that this time around, you would both be strong enough to overcome anything.

The nightclub was packed with people, the music pounding through the speakers, and the air thick with laughter and drunk conversations. You were out with your friends tonight, celebrating the end of a long week. For once, you felt free and unburdened. The neon lights flickered overhead, its colorful shadows dancing across the humid, jam-packed room.

You make your way to the dance floor, a sense of exhilaration passing over you. It had been years since you could go out like this – not needing a boyfriend’s permission, and doing whatever you liked, whenever you liked. Not that your exes were the controlling type – especially not Jo. Although looking back on it now, you wished he was a little bit controlling, just to show that he’d cared. Instead, Jo just nodded and hummed in response whenever you told him you were going out with friends, unbothered.

It had been two years since you last saw him, your first serious boyfriend after a string of failed situationships. You had shared so much with him, and yet, it had ended in a way that left a lingering ache that wouldn’t go away even after five drinks. The memories of your time together with Jo, both the bad and the good, were never far from your mind.

You’d long stopped trying to forget about him, however. Togame Jo was just someone you never forgot. Once he’d crawled his way into your heart, he’d make a home of it and have you carry the memories with him wherever you went.

He was your first love, after all. You’d been inseparable when you first started dating. It was a whirlwind romance, the type where you both clearly yearned for each other yet never had enough courage to say it out loud. The type of longing where everyone around you knew of your feelings except the two of you, and poor Sakura had had enough watching ‘the two lovesick fools.’ For months, the line between friendship and lovers blurred. You and Jo found yourself sharing secret glances from across the room, stiffening when the other’s knuckles brushed together, and heavily denying that no, they wouldn’t like me back, when it was as written in both your faces how badly you wanted each other.

And you did have each other, eventually. But as the months went by, things began to change.

Jo had become too relaxed, too comfortable now that he had you. He couldn’t see what you needed, or tell what it was you longed for – flowers, surprises, little gestures to show that he cared. Instead, your relationship had become routine. He rarely took you out on dates; most of your time was spent in his apartment, cuddling or sleeping, because Togame Jo slept like a log. And sure, you’d liked it at first. Basked in it even. To be wrapped up in his strong arms, and to wake up with your legs intertwined with each other, to hear his voice heavy with sleep call out your name.

Until the days became nothing but that – rotting in bed together. Each time you brought up wanting to spend time with him on a real date, Jo would just pull you back under the sheets, claiming you were warm and smelled too nice for him to want to leave the bed. It was something that upset you deeply, making you feel lonely even when he was right next to you.

You’d tried talking to him about it, but he never seemed to understand.

Jo was sweet and kind, but naïve in the sense that he made you feel invisible. The final straw came when you realized that being with him felt more painful than being alone. You’d hoped that he would fight for you, to ask you to stay, to see how much you were hurting and want to fix things. But when you said you felt like you and him weren’t working out anymore, all he’d said was, “Okay. If breaking up is what will make you happy, I respect that.”

You’re brought back to the present as the beat of the music pulled you onto the dance floor. You lost yourself in the rhythm, enjoying the moment, when someone bumped into you from behind. You whipped around, ready to apologize, only to be stunned into silence as you stared into a pair of familiar green eyes.

Togame says your name, his eyes wide as he balances a drink in his hand. “Jo,” you breathed out, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him. It felt like the air had been knocked out of your chest. Here he was, standing right in front of you after all these years.

“Hey,” he says, inching closer so you could hear him through the loud music. “It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, it has!” you replied, your voice barely audible over the noise. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good!” he says, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice. “And you?”

“Good, too!” you said, though it felt like a lie. Seeing him brought back all the unresolved feelings, the questions you had never asked, the words you had never said.

Before either of you could say more, the music shifted to a slower beat. The crowd around you moved in closer, forcing you and Jo to bump bodies until your chests were pressed against each other. Without thinking, Jo downs his drink in one and starts to dance with you, your bodies moving instinctively to the rhythm.

It was as if no time had passed at all, the familiarity of his touch sending shivers down your spine.

The previous awkwardness began to melt away as you danced, replaced by a bittersweet nostalgia. You could feel the warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart. It was both comforting and painful – a reminder of what you had lost. Years ago, before you started dating, you and Jo had been in the exact predicament – grinding and dancing on each other at some lame club Choji had VIP access too, touching each other yet still too hesitant to say what you truly felt. It felt like a lifetime ago already.

“Do you remember our first date?” Jo asked suddenly, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “How could I forget? You were so nervous, you spilled your drink all over yourself.”

He chuckled, the sound sending a pang through your heart. “Yeah, I thought I’d ruined everything. But you just laughed and said it was the best date you’d ever been on.”

“It was,” you say, your voice catching. “You were so sweet, Jo. You always were.”

“I tried,” he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “I really did.”

The two of you continued to dance, the music swirling around you. The years apart seemed to disappear, leaving you both in a moment that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.

 “Why did it end like that?” he asked after a while, his voice barely audible. “Why did you leave?”

You take a deep breath, the memories of your breakup – and the events leading to it – flooding back. “I felt like you didn’t see me anymore,” your voice trembles. “You stopped doing the little things that made me feel special. You were always so relaxed, so comfortable, and I felt… lonely.”

“I didn’t know,” Jo frowns, and you know he means it. He looked so confused; like hearing this from you now made everything clear, and all the while more confusing. “I thought everything was fine. I thought you were happy. I thought we were happy.”

“I tried to tell you,” you remind him, with tears stinging your eyes. Those endless nights of trying to be subtle, showing him photos of flower bouquets and mentioning twice about this restaurant you’ve been eyeing in hopes he’d take you there. He never did, because Jo liked the sight of you cooking in his apartment more. “But you never understood. And when I finally said we weren’t working out, you just agreed. You didn’t fight for us, Jo.”

His grip on your hips tightens, then falters. “I thought that’s what you wanted. I thought if I let you go, you’d be happier.”

“I missed you,” you finally admit, circling your arms around his thick neck and pressing your forehead against his. “Even after everything, I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he says, his eyes closing as he breathes in your perfume. “Every day.”

You continued to dance, your bodies swaying gently to the music – simply because you’d both lost the words to say. As you moved in unison, your eyes don’t stray from each other, soaking in the other’s presence because it might be the last time you’d ever hold each other like this again. For a moment, it felt like you were healing, like you were finally letting go of the past.

In his embrace, there was a sense of closure, a quite promise that despite everything, one thing stayed true: you loved each other truly. The bitterness of your separation melted away, leaving behind a tender acknowledgement of what you had once meant everything to each other. It wasn’t a return to what you’d lost, but the shared knowledge that your history still held value. Now, it was time to step forward, and finally find peace.

Finally, the song ends. You pull apart from him slightly, your gazes still locked. There was so much you wanted to say, so many things you still felt. But for now, this was enough. You’d found each other again, even if it was just for a short, fleeting moment.

And it was in his eyes, too – the unspoken question if you could try one more time.

Everything in your heart and mind wanted to say yes. Yes, come back to me, Jo. Come back to me and I’ll spend forever in your bed, but it was too early. The wounds too fresh. You knew that going back to the same place and person that hurt you wouldn’t heal you. It was impossible. And Jo knew that, too.

“I’ll see you around,” he says, pulling away and detangling his arms from yours. Already, you were missing the heat of him, the strength of his body against yours.

“You too, Jo,” you reply, your heart aching for him one last time.

You part ways again – Jo with Choji and your mutual friends you’d said goodbye too, and you back to the new friends you’d made when you tried building a world that didn’t revolve around him. But this time, it felt different.

You’d acknowledged your past, and while it still hurt – saying goodbye to Jo never felt easy – it also felt like a step toward the right direction. And as you walked away, you glanced back at him one last time, seeing Jo standing there, hands in his pockets, watching you leave his world once more.

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

Pay the price Pairing: Mean Mommy!Wanda x Fem!Reader Word count: 0.7k Another twisted little ficlet that I came up with, in my lunch break. It involves Mommy!Wanda dishing out some punishments. Warning: NSFW, 18+, lesbian relationship, orgasm control, orgasm denial, edging, masturbation, recorded masturbation, teasing, dirty talk, punishment, aftercare

Mommy Wanda, who likes to be mean when she’s punishing you and who goes on a mission and sets strict “no touching” rules for you, but still finds out that you broke them. You just look so guilty on the phone, not daring to look her in the eyes, while you tell her about your day. She has 5 more days before she’s back and she doesn’t want to wait that long to punish you. She decides that since you couldn’t wait till she’s back to be touched, your punishment will be to touch yourself every day. Of course, you’re not allowed to cum. You have to edge a set amount of times each day and record it, so she will be able to see that you’ve done what you’re told and that you’re following her instructions. Wanda decides that a total of 25 edges in the span of 5 days would be perfect, but she doesn’t want you to enjoy yourself in the slightest, so the first day you have 7 edges. It’s a lot and it’s meant to keep you horny over the span of the day, especially since you’ve been so close so many times. Of course, like the good girl you are, you do exactly as she asks, counting out each edge, your voice catching in your throat each time. By the end, you’re a whiny mess and your pussy is dripping and Wanda audibly moans when she watches the recording and she sees you pull up your panties over your soaked pussy, knowing that you’ve spent the day with a constant, wet reminder that you’re being punished by your Mommy. The second day you have 6 edges and the objective is the same. She wants you to go crazy with desire and want. This time, you count your edges with tiny little sobs and after you’re done you beg Wanda to please let you finish. You keep your pussy exposed, while you tell her how badly you need her and you promise to never break any of her rules again. Of course, it doesn’t help, she just finds it amusing, how cute her desperate little girl is. On the third day, she only gives you 1, enough to give you a taste, but not enough to give you any pleasure. On that day you squirm even more when Wanda calls you. Then again, she doesn’t stop teasing you for a second. She tells you how she gets off on the videos you send her, telling you how hard she comes each time your poor clit throbs with need, explaining that she plans to spank your pussy 25 times, one for each edge she was gracious enough to give you. It drives you crazy. You just wanted to feel good! On day 4, she gives you 5 edges, each one making it harder to keep your composure. You want to come so badly. But Wanda already told you that if you lost control, you’ll have to ruin your own orgasm and you definitely don’t want that, so you do exactly as your told, almost sobbing by the time you’re done. On the last day, Wanda gives you six edges, but she demands that you complete them after she’s home, so she can watch you do it this time. She sits close to you, eyes fixed on your pussy while you go through edge after edge and she touches herself alongside you, except at the sixth edge, she gives herself a mind-blowing orgasm and she leaves you desperate. She makes you beg her to let you come, while she spanks your pussy, the mixture of arousal and pain in your voice turning her on once again. “How badly do you want to come, hm, baby?” She asks mockingly. “Enough for you to cum from being spanked?” She laughs when you shake your head, trying not to make too much noise, all your nerve-endings alight with the mixed sensations going through you. By the time she’s done you’re ready to say anything just so she would do something to make the ache between your legs better and you beg so prettily for her, that she decides to be good to you. She gives you as many orgasms as you can take and she spends the day pampering you and being the softest, most doting Mommy anyone could ask for and you couldn’t be happier.

[underacalicosky]

I've got Obikin hugs and sharing a bed on my mind today, thanks to @paracosm-draw's Obikin Promptober 2024. So I wrote a quick SFW ficlet (featuring accidental Anakitty).

“Anakin, no! Don’t—”

A blinding white flash and a crackling shockwave sends Obi-Wan and the rest of their expedition team careening backwards. His back collides with the cold stone of the cave ground as the air is punched out of his lungs.

Gasping for breath, Obi-Wan sits up. He grimaces.

“Anakin!” he calls, head pounding.

There’s no answer. Only grunts from the clones around him who have similarly been knocked backward.

When Obi-Wan’s eyes finally refocus, Anakin is nowhere to be found.

“Anakin?”

Obi-Wan scrambles to his feet. Wincing, he grabs his side as he approaches the dark robes, tabards, and tunic that Anakin had been wearing moments ago.

The holocron that Anakin had removed from its pedestal lay on its side next to the pile of clothes, still glowing.

Panic rises in Obi-Wan’s chest. Then he feels a familiar tug on the training bond that he and Anakin should’ve severed, but never did.

“Blrrrt?”

The pile of robes moves and Obi-Wan drops to his knees. Gingerly, he lifts the robe to find a scared, three-legged feline. Its fur is a dark, rusty orange, almost brown—an odd and striking color for a cat, but the exact same shade as—

Leaning in, Obi-Wan studies at the cat and the scar running down its right eye.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan mumbles.

~~~~~

“Mrrow.”

“Yes, I’m almost done,” Obi-Wan says.

There are about a dozen or so of Anakin’s vocalizations that Obi-Wan understands. The short, simple meow is his greeting. There’s the high-pitch trill when he’s excited about something, usually when Ahsoka arrives with a new handmade cat toy. A drawn-out growly trill means he’s hungry.

And then there’s the impatient mrrow when he wants Obi-Wan’s attention.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan taps at the screen of his datapad a couple more times and then shuts it down.

In the three rotations since The Incident, Obi-Wan has combed through every piece of information about the holocron that the librarians at the Jedi Archives could transmit to his device and has found nothing to explain Anakin’s present form or how to restore him to human form.

It would be another two rotations before they arrive back in Coruscant to hand the holocron over to the Council for investigation.

Rumors had spread quickly through the 501st that something had happened to their General during their excursion. To spare him any more embarrassment, and maintain morale on the Resolute, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka decided it was best for Anakin to stay sequestered with Obi-Wan in his quarters onboard the Negotiator after he’d been examined by the medical team.

Obi-Wan shuffles over to his bunk where Anakin had been waiting for the last ten minutes. With an exhausted groan, he lies down and closes his eyes.

Anakin emits a low purr as he positions himself next to Obi-Wan, body stretched along his former Master’s side while his furry head is tucked under his bearded chin.

Immediately, their bond is flooded with Anakin’s feelings.

Comfort. Safety. Warmth.

Both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka noticed right away that Anakin’s shielding had become faulty as a result of the accident. There were moments when Anakin would become overcome with worry and fear. Distraught over what might happen if they wouldn’t be able to reverse whatever spell the holocron had cast.

So when Anakin jumped onto the foot of his bed that first night, appearing lost and sad, Obi-Wan’s heart ached. He patted the space next to him, signaling for Anakin to sleep there.

After all, he’d done the same when Anakin was a lost and sad Padawan. He’d sworn back then that he wouldn’t abandon Anakin, and he sure as hell won’t abandon him now.

Obi-Wan tightens his arm around Anakin and places a kiss on his head, between his ears.

“We’ll figure this out,” Obi-Wan whispers. “I promise.”

And the cat hugs him back.

Obi-Wan falls asleep with a paw pressed against his heartbeat.

In his dreams, he’s inundated with love and devotion. The feelings are so intense and overwhelming that Obi-Wan’s flung back to consciousness.

Glancing down at the sleeping cat in his embrace, Obi-Wan realizes the dreams aren’t his.

He closes his eyes and drifts to sleep again, twining himself around a familiar golden thread that binds Obi-Wan to the one who is most precious to him, and wraps him in a protective blanket of comfort and affection.

~~~~~

More than a week’s passed and only a handful of people who have been sworn to secrecy know exactly why Anakin’s been placed on long-term medical leave.

Stubbornly, Obi-Wan refuses to accept another mission until they’ve resolved the issue at hand, heatedly threatening to leave the Order altogether, if that’s what it comes down to. He ignores the look that Master Yoda exchanges with Master Windu.

After half a dozen visits to the Halls of Healing, countless meetings with the Council, there still doesn’t seem to be a solution.

“He’s so sad,” Ahsoka comments quietly one afternoon with Anakin cradled in her arms. She rubs her cheek on his head as Obi-Wan putters around his small kitchen preparing dinner for them.

“I know,” Obi-Wan responds.

He can’t bear to tell her about how Anakin’s bedtime purrs have become plaintive cries. How he buries his face into Obi-Wan’s neck as waves of anguish roll off him.

Obi-Wan forces himself to smile at both of them. He reaches over and takes Anakin’s front paw in his hand and squeezes it encouragingly.

“But we mustn’t lose hope,” Obi-Wan says. “We will find a way to fix this.”

~~~~~

By the third week, Anakin grows more despondent with each passing day. He curls himself into a ball and naps by the sunny window in Obi-Wan’s apartment at the Temple, waiting for him to return home from the Archives or meetings with the Council, ears perked up, awaiting good news that doesn’t come.

Anakin’s happiest when he’s sitting on Obi-Wan’s chest, purring contentedly while he’s being pet. Obi-Wan rubs his fingers under Anakin’s chin, over his cheek. He coos at him. Talks to him. Grins when Anakin presses their foreheads together. Obi-Wan stares into blue eyes that are shaped differently, but that he recognizes nonetheless.

Obi-Wan knows that it’s still Anakin in there. He’d know even without Anakin’s Force signature swirling around them.

The emotions that filter through their bond during Anakin’s dreams always start the same way. Golden and warm, brimming with affection. But they morph into yearning and longing. Then frustration. And finally despair and loneliness as Anakin’s front paw twitches in his sleep.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan hugs him closer, and for a fleeting moment, scolds himself for wishing that Anakin’s human body was next to him—lanky and solid and strong—and continues to push comforting thoughts toward Anakin.

But after a few nights, the depth of Anakin’s consuming grief brings Obi-Wan to tears.

“It’s alright, dearest,” Obi-Wan whispers to the sleeping cat. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.” He presses his face into Anakin’s fur and tries to hold back his sobs. “We’ll figure this out. I love you. No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”

He dreams of Anakin that night. The way Anakin used to be. His bright eyes and sweet smile. His long arms enveloping Obi-Wan in a tight hug. His voice, whispering in Obi-Wan’s ear that he loves him.

And a feeling of peace settles over him. Obi-Wan is certain he’ll see that beloved face again.

By the time Obi-Wan wakes again, the furry head tucked under his chin has been replaced by soft, honey brown curls. The paw on his chest is now a hand, with its long, elegant fingers tangled in the fabric of his sleep shirt. The small feline form he’d fallen asleep next to transformed into that of a naked, human man.

“Master?”

In an instant, Obi-Wan’s arms are around him, crushing him to his chest as he breathes in the scent of his hair. Relief and joy vibrate across their bond.

“Anakin,” he breathes. “I’m here, dearest. I’ll always be here.”

[kings-highway]

haikyuu ships but its really soft fluffy kiss edition. basically tooth-rottingly sweet ficlets.

daisuga: it is the peak of summer, and theyve been at the beach all day and there's sand everywhere, and they're sunburnt and exhausted. Half the team has gone off to find a place for dinner, the other half is asleep under umbrellas. Suga and Daichi are sitting a ways away, toes in the water, popsicles melting rapidly. Suga has been laying his cheek on Daichi's shoulder for a while - he's sleepy and he never wants this day to end. So he turns his head, lazy and giggly and kisses a soft line across his shoulder, up to his neck. And Daichi smiles and laughs and asks what he's doing but Suga just shrugs and tells him its nothing, he's just really, really happy.

iwaoi: they work really hard and everyone knows it but Oikawa is always going to take losing really hard. Some days harder than others. On a particularly bad day, Oikawa is crying and curled up on his bed and he's been ranting about how mad he is but Iwa knows that anger is mostly directed at himself. So when Oikawa finally takes a breath, and Iwa stands up to go get something for dinner, because he knows Oikawa will forget until real late otherwise, he stops before the door, and turns back, and takes Oikawa's head in his hands, holding him delicately, and leans down to kiss his forehead, letting it linger far longer than he had planned. And Oikawa is still crying but Iwaizumi mumbles that it'll all be okay, and he can't help but nod along with him, and maybe he even starts to believe it.

ushiten: tendou takes pride in his position on the team, and always commits to his blocks, which means during practice it's not uncommon for him to get his fingers jammed trying to block Ushiwaka. It hurts more than usual this time, the nail having torn up a bit at a bad angle. Ushijima feels terrible, and excuses himself to help, apologizing over and over and over again as they sit on the bench, and he helps him wrap the tip of his finger to keep it protected. Then, when he's finished with the tape, holding Tendou's hand oh-so-delicately, he lifts it up to press the softest, most careful kiss to his finger. Tendou absolutely melts, incoherantly stumbling over trying to say he accepts his apology with the most pathetic, lovestruck expression.

arankita: its over spring break, they've been out a lot with the twins and Suna and each other, really making the most of their last year of high school, and they keep promising to make time to just hang out together, and it just does not work, but the spring is so lively and fun they cant be mad. They go with the team to a theme park, and Aran really wants a chance to get Kita alone and maybe tell him how he feels. The whole day passes, though, and they never do, and eventually theyre saying goodbye. And Aran thinks all is lost, but Kita pulls him back, and pulls him down, and kisses him just an inch from his lips, soft and warm and lingering, and he pulls back slowly but keeps a hand on his jacket, and thanks him for always being there. And they definitely shouldnt invite the team next time.

kagehina: they spend their free day out in a grassy field in a park, tossing a volleyball around because neither of them can ever get enough. But they do need to take breaks, to catch their breath and drink water. Kageyama sits down on the grass and sips from his bottle and watches the bugs that are flitting about. One thing turns to another, and what was just a water break turns into a long rest, laying in the sun together and laughing over every stupid thing. When Kageyama catches Hinata staring at him, he tries to act annoyed and wave him off, but Hinata is fast, and leans forward to kiss the tip of Kageyama's nose before laughing and bouncing back to his feet to say that its time to get back to the game. Kageyama turns pink, grabbing at his nose as if offended, but he cannot help but smile back.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I'm taking a break from my regularly scheduled fic to bring you this awkward and silly ficlet.

Robin loves Eddie, much like an annoying younger sister would, and she wanted to get him this really awesome ring for his birthday. She supposed she could have asked him for his ring size, but then that would have been too easy. So, she's here with Steve, in Eddie's new bedroom, to steal one of his rings.

"I feel like there are other ways to do this," Steve said.

"This is my plan," Robin said. "Shh!"

"There's no one here, Robin," Steve hissed. "This is so stupid. Hurry."

"I'm trying. He doesn't keep his rings in a jewelry box like a normal person," Robin said.

"Would you really want Eddie to be normal?" Steve asked.

"Nah," she said, smiling fondly. "I love that weirdo."

Suddenly, there was the sound of van tires squealing out side.

"Oh, fuck!" Robin cursed.

"Hurry it up!" Steve said, snapping his fingers.

The sound of Eddie making his way up the stairs heightened their panic.

"Fuck!" Eddie cursed and they jumped. "I forgot my pretzels."

The sound of him leaving caused them to sigh in relief. Steve motioned for her to hurry up. Robin let out a quiet screech when they heard the sounds of his footsteps. She raised her hands when she found the ring, and she rushed to Eddie's little balcony that was just outside his window. Steve followed her.

"No!" She whispered. "There's no room! Hide in the closet!"

"Why don't you hide in the closet?" Steve hissed at her.

"Oh, yeah, a lesbian in a closet? Very funny, Steve," Robin hissed.

"Actually, there's something that I wanted to tell you about me - ," Steve started to say.

"No time," she said and closed the window, catching Steve’s shirt in the process.

He tugged and tugged, but it wouldn't budge. Robin couldn't get the window back open. Meanwhile, Eddie's footsteps were getting closer.

"Robin!"

"Just slip out of your shirt, close the curtains, and hide in the closet!" Robin

Steve cursed at her, slipped out of his shirt, and closed the curtains. Meanwhile, Robin was balanced on this very small balcony. Did they really have to give the Munsons a two story house? She could hear the sound of Eddie coming into the bedroom, struggling to carry what sounds like several bags of pretzels. She rolled her eyes when she heard him toss them on his bed.

"Now, to work on my campaign," Eddie said and cackled until a loud sneeze came from his closet. "Okay. . .but wait, now I have to kick the shit out of whoever is hiding in the closet. Bet it's Dustin, always trying to sneak a peak at my notes - Oh helloooo, big boy. You know, my birthday isn't for another couple of weeks."

"I know, I got excited. I wanted to give you your gift early," Steve said.

"Well, happy birthday to me. Correct me if I'm wrong, but is my birthday gift you?" Eddie asked.

Robin's eyes widened. No fucking way.

". . .yes."

Oh, holy shit. That's what Steve had been trying to tell her, and she. . . She practically shoved him into a fucking closet. Jesus. Suddenly, she heard the sound of loud moaning. Oh, they were kissing. Oh, she hoped they were kissing. Shit, she was going to have to listen to this, wasn't she? She was going to have to listen as her best friend lost his guy virginity. The sound of the pretzels being pushed off the bed made her wince. She was screwed, just like Steve was about to be.

"Wait, Eddie," Steve said. "You should know that you're the first guy that I've been with ever. Until I met you, I didn't even know I could like guys. I thought it was one or the other. I never thought it could be both."

Oh, Steve. Robin held a hand to her mouth, struggling not to say anything.

"Baby, I promise to be as gentle with you as you want me to be," Eddie said.

"The thing is that I think I got so excited about being with you that I think I forgot to be nervous. Now, I'm nervous and worried that I'm going to screw things up. In the past, I kind of rushed it in this department, and I just . . . ," Steve said.

"Want to take things slow?" Eddie asked in amusement. "Of course, I'll take anything that you can give me. You know why?"

"Why?"

"Because I love you, silly," Eddie said.

"I love you too, Eddie," Steve said, and she could tell her friend's voice was thick with emotion.

Tears filled her eyes. Fuck. She loved Eddie even more now.

"You just have to have to answer me one thing," Eddie said. "Why is your shirt hanging in the window? You didn't close the curtains all the way."

"Uh, I got nervous and panicked, then my shirt got stuck," Steve replied.

"Oh, yeah, that window is tricky. I have been meaning to fix it," Eddie said. "Let me get that."

"Wait!"

Robin froze, eyes wide as she heard Eddie come close to the window. A moment later, the window was opened, and Steve’s shirt was free.

'Tada!" Eddie exclaimed and then popped his head out the window. "Oh, hey, Robin."

He pulled his head back in again. There was a pause, and then Eddie's head was out the window once more. He stared at her, blinking.

"Coo! Coo!" Robin panicked.

[thiddleston]

[I wrote an Adar lives Adariel ficlet set in Rivendell while they're recuperating

Mutual hair braiding and deja vu ensues]

Adar goes to visit Galadriel's tent at night to talk and finds her sitting on a tree stump by her bed roll attempting to brush and braid her hair for the night. However, the ache in her wound makes it difficult and she huffs in frustration while trying to talk to him.

He offers to assist and she hesitantly accepts with a skeptical inquiry as to whether he knows how to braid hair. He only responds with a long-suffering raised eyebrow and taking the brush from her hand moves around to stand behind her and begins.

She finds herself simultaneously too relaxed and too tense with his ministrations and she distracts herself with chatting about little nothings and eventually they fall into a comfortable silence with him steadily working at her hair.

When he finishes, she surprises him with a reciprocal offer to do his hair, and after a beat too long of silence, she almost thinks he'll decline. Then, without a word, he nods as he hands her the brush and turns to kneel down with his back to her.

She starts brushing but realizes he's still too tall for her to work comfortably and bids him to sit between her legs against the tree stump. He settles in as she resumes and they revive their small talk and delicately dance around deeper topics until once again slipping into silence—the only sounds being the quiet of her fingers weaving his hair and his own private battle to keep breathing steadily.

His battle is quickly lost though as her fingers keep brushing into his scalp and a soft stuttered moan escapes his throat, but though he tenses his back, she spares him by continuing as if nothing happened.

As she finishes the end of the fishtail braid she's given him to match the one he’d given her, she sets aside the brush and rests her hands on his shoulders in a wordless offer. Inch by inch he accepts it as he relaxes his muscles and slowly leans back to rest his head on her shoulder—her right shoulder to spare her wounded left.

Galadriel slides her hands forward to wrap around him and tilts her head to the side to catch his eyes. "This seems familiar," a cautious humor to her voice.

Adar smirks lightly, "At least you don't have a dagger to my throat for a third time."

They gaze at each other in a mimic of those memories for a moment. This time though, with no sharp objects to stop him, he slowly tilts his head closer—first brushing his nose against her cheek, then mouthing light kisses at the corner of her mouth and jaw.

Galadriel, with eyes closed, is utterly lost to sensation. Adar continues like this, kissing every bit of her face he can reach, for an amount of time she could not possibly describe until it is her turn to release a moan. At the sound, his lips barely leave her skin to whisper, "Tell me to stop and I will."

Galadriel only tightens her hold and opens her eyes to look sharply at him. "If you dare stop now then I will hold a dagger to your throat again."

A deep sound between a hum and a chuckle rumbles from Adar's chest as he continues to nuzzle her face with his, "Is that a promise, my light?"

[bibucktrashpanda]

Princess

A little Buck/Tommy ficlet inspired by a friend sending me an instagram post of a puppy rescued in a fire who becomes a fire-dog. Tommy is mentioned and doesn't actually appear. This hasn't been beta'ed and is just a quick little something I wrote in a few minutes. Death is mentioned briefly but happened earlier.

Summary: Buck finds something unexpected while inspecting a yard after a fire.

Buck finds the puppy on his sweep of the extensive backyard. It’s a miserable call, a fire tearing through a new residential development neighborhood at 2:00am. Another firehouse is battling the fire itself and the 118 have been called into assist. Buck and Eddie are sweeping one of the early houses hit by the inferno. The house and its occupants are are all gone, lost to the blaze or the smoke or both. He and Eddie are silent as they search for stray embers but all that remains is ash.  Buck is examining the backyard, which seemed to have been spared to make sure that no sparks escaped that could flare into a wildfire, when he hears the whimpering. 

He stops, unsure if he is hearing things. 

“Buck, clear! Lets go!” He hears Eddie call and he waves a hand towards the other man as he bends down to the ground. Nothing, he goes to stand, crossing the sound off as his imagination when he hears it again, coming from under the hydrangea that has taken over this corner of the yard, wedged between two fences. 

He shuffles over and lies down to look under the leaves. He points his flashlight at the base of the bush and almost startles when two bright eyes shine back it him. 

The puppy is tiny, dirty and stuck, chain and collar tangled in a broken branch. It’s shivering and stretched as far as it can go, pulling on where it is stuck.  It’s hard to see much of the puppy in the dark but he thinks the puppy might have been tan at one point. The ears look darker but that could just be the darkness of the bush. The chain ends in a spike that has clearly been pulled out of the ground. The puppy is straining against the collar and Buck can see little scapes covering the poor thing.  

“Hey there, little one.” Buck murmurs and reaches slowly out with his hand. He knows better than to just grab at a strange dog. He places his hand close but not within biting distance and absently notes that his hand seems to be bigger than the puppy. “Look at you all safe under here. I bet you ran when things got scary.”  he continues, trying to soothe with his voice. The puppy stretches its head as far as its collar and the branch will let it and sniffs at his hand before giving it a tentative woof. 

“It’s okay, I know, my hand is big but I promise am very nice and love dogs.” he whispers and slides his hand a little closer. The puppy yips and nuzzles into his hand before wheezing. 

“Well, aren’t you friendly.” He strokes his fingers over the fur that is probably soft when clean and turns his attention where the collar and chain loop tightly around a large branch at the base of the bush. He doesn’t like the sound of that wheeze and wants to get it out of there pronto. There isn’t enough space to work it but he thinks he will just be able to unclip the chain from the collar freeing the puppy. 

“Buck, let’s go! Bobby is waving for us.” Eddie’s voice is closer than it was. “What are you doing under the bush? Did you fall?, are you communing with flowers?”

Buck ignores him for a second stretching his other arm under the bush to hold the puppy still as he uses his right hand to just flick the catch open. The puppy tumbles forward and Buck catches it and carefully tugs it out. 

When he has space he adds his other hand to help support the puppy as he straightens up from out of the bush. 

“What the hell?” Eddie says and crouches down next to him. 

“I heard a whimper.”  Buck says. The puppy has flopped over, seemingly exhausted and he gathers it close to his chest.  

“With your luck it could have been a rabid raccoon.” If Buck had a free hand he would have stuck his middle finger up at his friend, but Eddie isn’t exactly wrong. Eddie has grabbed Buck’s flashlight and aims both towards but not at the puppy. In the light Buck can see that none of the scrapes are bleeding anymore. 

“Just a puppy tangled up.” He cradles it and stands, Eddie steadying him. A quick glance under her tail reveals the puppy is a she. “She’s a little scraped up and she was wheezing a little. But I am not sure if that’s because she was pulling on her lead and it bruised her throat or if it is smoke. She could use some medical attention.” The puppy is blinking quickly, fighting sleep and he rocks her a little, crooning at her. “It’s okay pretty girl. You are safe now.” Eddie reaches over and checks her tag. 

“Her name is Princess, because of course it is.” Eddie releases the tag and steps back. 

“She is 100% a Princess, aren’t you?” He coos. Her eyes are pale and he can see under the dirt that her face is mostly which but with black freckles on her snout. Her ears are huge and fuzzy, one flopping over while the other stands at attention. Her tongue hangs out as she pants a little. She is definitely a bully breed, with a distinctive thick head.

He doesn’t realize he is smiling down at her until a flash distracts him. He looks up and Eddie has the flashlights propped in one arm, one of his gloves between his teeth and his glancing down at his screen has he texts away. 

“What are you doing?” Buck whispers since Princess has given up on fighting sleep. 

“Texting Tommy a photo of his new kid and my new god-dog.” Eddie smirks as he continues texting. 

Buck would argue but he knows that if Princess is okay, and doesn’t have family, she will be coming home with him. 

“Yeah.” He grins up at Eddie. “Let him know I am going to be late getting home? Someone has to take this pretty girl to the vet.”

He cuddles her close as they make their way back to the truck. He doesn’t think Tommy will object. Their new house has a big backyard, and if he does, well Buck is sure he can convince him somehow. 

[sissylittlefeather]

Heyyyyy bestieeeee!!! I love this photo prompt! I hope you enjoy this ficlet (that's what I'm calling a fic under 1500 words now) as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Worth It

Warnings: MINORS NO. DNI. THIS IS PURE SMUT. Kissing, cussing, p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, teasing, use of "daddy" sexually

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Elvis sits in his chair in the corner of the room and watches you as you move around cleaning, cigarillo in his hand. He seems to be lost in thought, but you're lost in work, so you don't worry too much about it.

"Hey, darlin', why don't you come sit in daddy's lap for a bit? Quit flutterin' around this room."

You put down your feather duster, curious about what he's got on his mind. When you walk over to him, he moves his foot off of his knee to the ground and pats on his thigh. You perch yourself there where he patted and that's when you notice his hardness.

"What you thinkin', daddy?" You ask, innocently brushing your hand against him. He groans softly.

"I was thinkin' it's been too long since I was inside you." He hands you his cigarillo, undoes his belt, and then unbuttons his pants, freeing his cock and stroking it a few times. Then, he stands you up and reaches up under your skirt to pull your panties down. Grabbing the flesh of your hips, he seats you on top of him, sliding his dick inside you, taking his cigarillo back and puffing it. You start to bounce, but he grasps your waist and stops you.

"Sit still, darlin'. Daddy has work to do." You whimper.

"Please, daddy-"

"Would you hand me my glasses and that script?" You whimper again and lean forward to reach the items he asked for. The subtle movement drives you insane as his cock brushes the spot inside of you.

"Elvis-"

"Thank you, darlin'." He slides his reading glasses on and begins to look over the script, flipping the page every once in a while. You squirm and wiggle, trying to feel him against you. "Be still. If you're good, you'll get what you want."

You sit as still as you can as he reads. After a while, he puts out the cigarillo and reaches his left hand around you to play with your clit. He makes slow circles as he teases you and you moan softly.

"Elvis, please!"

"Hush, now. Let daddy play with you for a bit." You bite your tongue and try to stay still, but it's so hard not to grind against him as he rubs you with his fingertip, his cock still nestled inside you. You do push back against him a little to feel some friction and he stops moving his finger.

"Now, listen. Bad girls don't get to cum when they want to. Are you going to keep being bad?" You shake your head fervently, begging him to go back to using his finger on you.

"N-no! I'm a good girl, I promise."

"I'm not sure. You keep wigglin' like that and I'll make you get up and go to bed unsatisfied-"

"No! I'll be good." He goes back to making circles and dragging his finger across your clit while he reads the script. You're about to lose your mind at the sensation of his cock just sitting inside you as he plays with you. He keeps you like this for a tantalizing twenty minutes or so until you are absolutely teetering on the edge of a mind-blowing orgasm. The combination of his hand on your sensitive button and his dick inside you has you whimpering and sweating and begging for more.

"Are you 'bout to cum, darlin'?" He growls over your shoulder.

"Mhmmm. Please daddy..." You moan as he continues to work his hand on you. Thats when you notice he's put the script down and wrapped his other arm around your waist.

"Well, go on then, bad girl. Cum on daddy's lap." He flicks his fingertip across your clit one last time and you cum harder than you ever have before, writhing and pulsing on his cock, the pleasure rushing through your veins like wildfire. You lean back against him as his finger slows, breathing heavily and reeling from your high. He whispers in your ear.

"Alright, darlin'. Daddy's turn..."

You sit up quickly, put both hands on his thighs, and begin to bounce on his dick. He pushes your skirt up to your waist so he has a clear view of you. With both hands, he massages the soft skin of your ass and grunts.

"Now, that's a good girl."

"You like that, daddy?" You moan in reply.

"Yes. You know daddy loves this tight little pussy." He leans his head back and moans, bucking his hips up into you.

"That's too bad." You stand up off of him and walk away, pulling your skirt down as you do.

"Wait a minute, darlin', I didn't say you could get up." He sits with his dick in his hand, a look of shock on his face.

"I'm a bad girl, remember? I do what I want." You give him a teasing smile.

"Please come back? I'll let you cum again."

"Now who's begging?"

"Darlin', c'mon, I'll do anything." He strokes himself a little as he pleads, his blue eyes round and dark with lust. You walk over to him and put a hand on each arm of the chair.

"Alright then, but daddy cums on my terms."

"Yes ma'am." You crawl onto his lap and sink onto just the top inch of his cock. You bounce there for a bit and he groans loudly. "No, darlin', please. I need you so bad."

His hands go up under your skirt to hold your hips and you stop moving.

"Uh-uh. You just look." He pulls his hands back, sucking air in between his teeth.

"You're mean, darlin'."

"Am I?" You ask as you pull your shirt off over your head and remove your bra, letting your breasts free in front of him.

"Goddamnit, darlin'." You can tell you're about to drive him crazy, so you finally sink onto his dick fully.

"FUCK." He moans loudly as you let him fill you up. You go back to moving up and down, sliding him in and out of you.

"I'm gonna cum, darlin', please let me touch you." He begs, fingers itching to feel you.

"Touch me, daddy." His hands immediately go to your breasts and he pulls one nipple to his mouth.

"Mmm, it's so good, darlin'." He whispers into your breast as he tenses and you can tell he's about to cum. You switch to grinding your hips against him to push him deeper and deeper. Suddenly, he throws his head back, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, as he shudders into you, shooting you full of his warmth. You moan loudly together and he lays his head on your shoulder.

"I know better than to tease you now." He presses his lips to your skin.

"You can. Just don't be surprised when you get it right back." He looks up into your face, pulling you into a deep kiss. Then, he mumbles into your lips.

"Yeah, it was worth it, though."

******

Ta-daaa

[navybrat817]

For the dialogue prompts, how about our Bucky with 17. "I can't lose you, baby. I've already lost too much." ? Please and thanks wonderful Miss Navy!!!

Some Days

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky gets scared some days that he'll lose you.

Word Count: Over 500

Warnings: Mild sexual content, slight angst, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: An overprotective prompt ficlet that could turn into more. Nat, I hope you like it ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky took you right to bed when he came home safely from his recent mission. Some days he needed to forget the weight of the unfair burdens he carried. As many times as he was unwillingly wiped, he would forever remember the horrors. The nightmares served as a reminder. He didn’t want to let them consume him.

He would drown in sorrow if he did.

“One more, baby,” he ordered gruffly, thrusting deep and helping you ride out your orgasm. “Give me one more.”

Some days forgetting meant taking you until he had his fill. He still had your hand above your head, your fingers laced together as he stretched his body over yours. He pulled another orgasm from you before he filled you to the brim. Pinned beneath him, you remembered that you belonged to him. And he’d never forget that he had someone worth fighting for.

Someone worth protecting.

“Talk to me,” you urged, focusing on him through the fog of pleasure.

“I get scared some days,” he whispered, still buried inside you.

“You? Scared?” You asked, touching his cheek. Like always, he leaned into your hand. Where one of you went, the other followed. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It's true. Because some days I wake up and I worry when you're not there beside me,” he said, his voice as gentle as his kisses. “I can't breathe properly until I see your face or hear your voice.”

The wonderful ache between your thighs was a contrast to the one in your heart at his stormy gaze. Ghosts haunted the man you loved, but you would find ways to chase them away. “I don’t want you to worry. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.”

“My job is dangerous and I’m not always here,” he reminded you. There was always the chance that he’d never come home to you. But wasn’t life in general unpredictable? “I have enemies.”

“I know. And I know how to protect myself. You taught me, remember?” You pointed out. He made sure you knew how to fight. “And I'm still not going anywhere, Bucky.”

You gasped when he shifted his hips, his weight settling over you. “I can't lose you, baby,” he said, his eyes so intense that you nearly shrank under his gaze. But you weren’t afraid of how much he loved you because you loved him just as strongly. “I've already lost too much.”

Bucky Barnes lost almost everything. Time. Family. Autonomy. It wasn’t fair. He didn’t deserve it.

He deserved love and you’d be there to give it to him.

“You won’t lose me,” you whispered.

He sighed, your words like a balm to an invisible wound. “Still love me?”

“Always,” you promised, pulling him down for a tender kiss.

Bucky was home and you would wake up beside him in the morning, but life was unpredictable. Someone would try to take you away soon. Someone with a grudge against the man who captured your heart.

And that someone would soon discover that messing with Bucky’s girl was a death wish.

Who do we think is dumb enough to go after Bucky's girl? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[anticidic]

A Tail Lost in Time

Kitsune!Dazai AU ficlet with a dash of soft wound care provided by Chuuya. 1,037 words. Tiny mentions of blood.

 “It’s a good thing I found you while I was out before something happened to you.”

Chuuya laid out the supplies beside him and sat on his knees, patting his lap a few times to try and grab the fox’s attention.

No response.

Ears atop the head twitched and big eyes stared back at him, wary. Big brown eyes that seemed to know more than they let on but dwelling on that proved both foolish and unimportant. It was just an animal viewing Chuuya through the lenses of something cornered and so frightened that it looked ready to bolt at any given moment. It had an awkward gait, shifting all of its weight to its right side with its front left paw lifted slightly in the air. Blotches of red covered the length of its leg, dirtying the soft underside of its whitish fur. Clumps of mud stuck between its toes, shaking loose each time it stretched and flexed its claws.

And leaving behind a trail that traced back to Chuuya’s living room. But he’d worry about that later.

If he had to guess, the fox must’ve either run into trouble with another wild animal or had hurt itself. Each time he held a hand out, slow, to try and coax it into warming up to him, it leaned away and dodged his touch. The corners of its muzzle twitched and a small sound, as if a distressed whimper, left its mouth.

He also did not miss the tremors in the legs and the way the small animal shivered.

With the understanding that this was a wild animal possibly in fear for its life still, Chuuya sighed and reached for a blanket, unraveling it and setting it out on the floor in front of him.

“How about that? Maybe the blanket will feel nicer than the hard floor.”

The fox inched closer, curiosity getting the best of it as its head dipped low and it ran its nose along the fringe of the blanket. It placed a paw on top, then a second. A third. Until it sat down in front of Chuuya, continuing to keep its injured paw hovering above ground.

Subtle smile lighting up his face because it was a win—a tiny one, but still one he would take regardless—Chuuya grabbed a cotton ball, dipped it in antiseptic, and held his other hand out.

“Will you let me see that little cut you got there? I promise it’ll be quick.”

Silence. Though those big eyes blinked back at him and ears twitched again. Its bushy tail coiled around its hind legs for comfort. Maybe it understood what he said, but communicating was out of the question. Chuuya knew this, but he also knew himself to be a fool for trying to coax the fox into trusting him enough to help it.

It watched him curiously, carefully, awaiting the moment to flee or fight back in response—too many unpredictabilities Chuuya needed to take into consideration as he leaned in with a softened gaze and dabbed the cotton ball along the fox’s leg.

The whistle of a hiss through a clenched jaw made him stop. The fox clenched its teeth, face scrunched in distress, but it did not pull away. It looked away. At nothing.

“Sorry, little guy. I know it hurts,” Chuuya said in a low voice, continuing to clean the cut with measured dabs and light pressure enough to disinfect but not enough to cause any more unnecessary pain.

After a few moments, he grabbed a roll of bandages and gently layered it several times around the fox’s leg, securing it.

"There we go, all better." Chuuya put the supplies away and gazed down at the fox again. He couldn’t help but to smile with the way it looked back at him—eyes full of an unspoken trust and a relaxed posture compared to how still and on edge it had been before. “Now it can heal, and you won’t get a nasty infection.

Still no response. But it mattered not to him. If anything, he accepted the fox’s form of appreciation in how it went from sitting to lying down, cheek pressed to the blanket, nuzzling it. Its tail swished in the air as it continued to gaze up at Chuuya. There was a profound longing in that gaze. Something Chuuya couldn't quite make out, but their communicating had been doomed from the start.

He ran a hand through his hair and heaved another sigh. “Jeez, what're you looking at me like that, for?" Reminding himself that this was a wild animal and not a dog he could just pet and scratch behind the ears, he kept his distance and watched for any signs of distress.

Of which he found none, judging by how the fox’s eyelids drooped, and it let out a long yawn.

Chuuya grabbed the supplies and got up, taking one last look at the fox as a hand hovered over the light switch. “Goodnight, little guy.”

***

The morning light hurt his eyes. Hazy. A mist hung over the city, stretching inland from the bay. On the horizon, war-torn buildings. Chuuya got out of bed and stretched his arms above his head before heading into the living to check on the fox.

He flinched in surprise at the man draped across his couch, fast asleep. A peaceful expression. Messy hair and curled ends sticking to a forehead and framing an angular face. Even a soft, quiet snore. A human snore, no doubt. Chuuya paused, heart thumping and blood rushing in his ears, but the human sounds were undeniable.

The second thing he noticed: bandages wrapped around one of the man’s arms.

And not one, but two bushy tails hanging off the side of the couch—white as fresh snow, tips dipped in blue.

The puzzle pieces slotted together in his mind. He didn't understand well, anything, but somehow with the way the fox chose him and looked at him with a watchful eye that surpassed the simple curiosity of a wild animal having its first encounter with a human it all made sense.

Chuuya returned with a second blanket and draped it over the man's curled form.