#he deserves the world and more and i’d give it to him in a heartbeat

[slavdollz4mangione]

“despite all my best efforts” he’s SO endearing to me god i love him so much 😭😭 as an aries venus myself i just know our boy loves so intensely, i truly think he’s the type of man who’d give his gf the world if he could

[vunblr]

A Star Without a Sky (#3)

Pairing: Sheriff! Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff. Slow Burn. Smut.

Summary: A wounded Sheriff Barnes seeks shelter in a young widow’s home, and finds himself wrapped in a warmth he no longer believes he deserves, and longing for something he thought long buried.

Word Count: About 6.9k.

Previous Chapter - Masterlist

She slowly tied the mare to the post outside the general store, hands cold despite the wool gloves. She patted the crate of preserves at the back of the cart, then hoisted it down and walked toward the porch, as her skirts brushed dust and straw.

The bell above the door let out a lazy chime as she stepped inside. The familiar scent of old wood, pipe smoke, and dried grain greeted her like always. Mr. Bell stood behind the counter, polishing his spectacles with the hem of his vest, while Brock Rumlow leaned on the far side, thumbing through a pouch of tobacco like he had all the time in the world.

His head turned the moment she entered, and his gaze dragged over her like molasses, slow and deliberate. Stopping at her bosom, lingering there just a hair too long.

Same as always.

She chose to ignore it.

“Well now,” Rumlow drawled, curling his lips. “Was wonderin’ if the little homestead swallowed you whole. Been a stretch since you graced the town with your smile.”

She kept her tone light, and polite, but clipped. “Hi, Mr. Rumlow. Been busy.”

“Busy,” he echoed, the word was slow on his tongue like he meant to chew it. “Takin’ care of your land all on your lonesome? That must get… exhausting.”

Mr. Bell cleared his throat pointedly. “Brock,” he warned him without looking up from the ledger.

She set the crate on the counter with a soft thump. “Three of the plums, four of the pears.”

“Appreciate it, Miss L/n,” Bell said, moving to check the jars. “Been running low. Folks keep askin’ for your pear preserves.”

“Might bring more next week if the weather holds,” she answered, feeling Rumlow’s eyes on her like heat off a pan.

Bell gave her a kind smile. “Glad to hear it. Figured you were due for a trip, truth be told. Just didn’t expect you to roll in with the sheriff.”

Her mouth went dry for a heartbeat. She adjusted the strap of her satchel. “Found him on the road, near the ridge. He said he was walkin’ back from some job. He looked like hell warmed over, if I’m honest. Thought I’d give him a ride.”

“Kind of you,” Bell nodded.

Rumlow snorted under his breath, stuffing the tobacco into his coat pocket.

She didn’t look at him, but still, he talked anyway. “Didn’t know he was the ridin’ sort. Looks more the skulkin’ kind to me.”

Bell frowned. “Don’t start, Brock.”

Rumlow raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hey now, I ain’t sayin’ nothin’. Just thinkin’ it’s curious, is all. You keep to yourself, Miss L/n… and suddenly you’re givin’ rides to the sheriff, bringin’ him into town lookin’ like he’s fresh off the gallows.”

Her jaw worked. “I didn’t bring him in. He was already headin’ here.”

Rumlow’s grin didn’t falter, but his eyes lost all pretense of warmth. “Maybe you ought to think twice ‘bout bein’ seen with the likes of him. Even if he is wearin’ a star now.”

She stilled in the motion of adjusting her shawl. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He leaned an elbow on the counter, grazing his belt with his thumb. “Rode with some fellas, types that don’t get invited to Sunday supper. Vigilante crew, some say. Kept killin’ long enough someone finally handed him a badge and said go ahead, make it legal.”

She turned, slowly and deliberately, resting her hands on the crate of preserves she was arranging. “Didn’t know the law required saints now. And no offense, Mr. Rumlow, but you’re not exactly a cherub yourself, and here we are, talkin’ like always.”

His expression twisted, not quite a scowl, not quite a smile. “Least I know who my folks were.”

Her breath hitched.

He leaned in, and his voice dropped a note, all honey and venom. “Ain’t no secret Barnes is a bastard. Left behind, orphanage-raised. And you know what kind of temper grows in a man made from nothin’.”

For a beat, the store was silent but for the creak of the settling wood. Bell busied himself in the back, pretending not to listen.

She straightened her back.

“I’ve known men with fathers who were monsters,” she said. “And I’ve known bastards who’d give their coat off their back to a stranger. So unless you’re holding something real in your hand, I’d think twice about spreadin’ dirt just to feel taller.”

Rumlow studied her, and his lip twitched a bit like he hadn’t expected her to bite back.

“Just tryin’ to help a lady keep her name clean,” he said, mock-gentle.

She stared him down. “My name’s clean, Mr. Rumlow. And I’m not the one slingin’ mud.”

He stepped away with a low chuckle, tapping his tobacco pouch with his thumb. “Suit yourself.”

When the door closed behind him, Mr. Bell cleared his throat from behind the shelf. “He thinks Banker Pierce’s coin makes him untouchable.” He muttered.

She didn’t answer. Just picked up the last jar and set it on the shelf behind the counter.

But Rumlow’s words swirled in the air like woodsmoke. For how easily men like him wielded rumor like a blade.

He’d called Bucky a bastard like it was a curse. Like it meant he was made wrong.

She pulled her shawl tighter as she stepped back into the morning light.

He didn’t know a thing.

----

The sheriff’s office smelled like old coffee, dust, and iron oil. The usual. Bucky stepped through the doorway with a stiff roll of his shoulders, his coat still damp at the hem from the morning frost.

Sam looked up from behind the desk, as usual, with a sandwich halfway to his mouth. He blinked once.

“Well,” he drawled, chewing slowly, “look what the cat dragged back in.”

Bucky didn’t smile. Just set the rifle gently against the wall and pulled off his gloves, one finger at a time, like he had all the time in the world and no interest in small talk. “Mornin’.”

“You smell like pears and pine,” Sam added, leaning back in his chair with a lazy sprawl. “What’d she do, bathe you in preserves?”

“Don’t,” Bucky said quietly.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were gonna.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.”

Sam sighed exaggeratedly and stood to unlock the armory with a key. “A week holed up with a lonely widow out in the hills, gettin’ fed and patched up? Some folks got all the luck.”

Bucky shot him a look. Slow, flat, and unimpressed. The kind that emptied rooms and quieted fools.

“I said drop it.”

Sam’s grin just widened. “Oh, I’m just gettin’ started.”

“You really missed me, huh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Jail’s been real quiet without you brooding in every corner like a cursed statue.”

Bucky finally cracked the ghost of a smile, rubbing a hand through his wind-tangled hair. “Good to be back.”

Sam leaned on the doorframe of the armory with his arms folded. “So, about your ladyfriend-”

Bucky turned.

Slow. Sharp.

“Sam.”

That was the third time.

The deputy lifted both hands in surrender, with the grin still perched on his face but softer now. “Alright, alright.” He let the words hang just long enough to keep Bucky’s pulse on edge. Then- “Just figured you should know. Your buddy Rumlow’s been sniffin’ around her skirts since the minute she put on the black.”

Bucky froze. Took one breath. Then another.

Sam didn’t push, just sat into the desk chair again, elbows on his knees, “Walker told me. Word’s been floatin’ around since before either of us showed up. Banker’s lapdog’s got a habit, and her porch light’s been on too long for him to ignore.”

Bucky’s jaw ticked. His gaze dropped to the floor, then to the rifle by the door. One hand flexed.

Sam leaned back further, crossing his arms loosely. “Funny thing is… every man who tried callin’ on her after the mourning period ended, far as I’ve heard? Well. They either backed off real quiet or had themselves a little misfortune.”

Bucky’s eyes flicked up, sharp and dark.

Sam nodded once, slowly. “Tripped horse. Busted hand. One fella’s barn mysteriously burned halfway to ash. Nothin’ anyone could pin. Just… bad luck. It ain’t a secret Rumlow don’t like to share what he thinks is his,” Sam finished. “Seems like the only person who hasn’t noticed is her.”

Bucky’s hand curled tighter. He didn’t ask for details. Didn’t need them.

His jaw ticked, and his gaze dropped to the floor for a beat. When he looked up, there was something colder behind his eyes. “You tellin’ me this for a reason?”

“I’m tellin’ you,” Sam said, no grin this time, “because things in this town’ve been cookin’ a long while. You just stepped into the kitchen.”

Bucky didn’t answer.

Didn’t have to.

The silence between them was heavy with meaning. The way his shoulders tensed, the slow clench of his jaw, and how his fingers hovered, just a second too long, over the rifle’s stock.

Sam watched him, then let out a low breath and pushed off his knees. “Yeah,” he muttered, brushing crumbs off his vest. “Figured you’d take it that way.”

Then he stood, brushing crumbs from his vest, and walked back toward the little back room without another word.

----

The bakery door creaked softly as she stepped inside, and the warmth of the oven was certainly appreciated by her chilled cheeks. The air was thick with cinnamon, butter, and rising dough, comforting.

Mrs. Marshall looked up from behind the counter, with her hands dusted in flour. “Mornin’, dear! I saw your cart earlier. You brought the preserves?”

“Sure did. Plums and pears this time.” She managed a smile, tucking a windblown curl behind her ear.

She barely had time to step forward when someone turned from the display near the window.

“Why, if it ain’t the lady of the orchard herself, what a coincidence,” came Rumlow’s voice, syrupy sweet and dressed in charm.

He held a small paper box of tarts in one hand, the other resting loose at his hip. No spurs now. No hat. Just that too-smooth smile and a casual lean against the counter.

“Mr. Rumlow,” she said with polite reserve, gripping the crate tighter in her arms.

He glanced at her, slowly and deliberately, then looked back to the tarts like they required deep thought. “Hope I didn’t come off too sharp earlier. Just tryin’ to look out for folks, is all. Rough place, this town. Rougher men in it.”

She blinked, caught off guard. He sounded sincere, contrite, even. No trace of the earlier sneer. Not a hint of lechery. Just concern, well-practiced and polished, clean.

“Didn’t mean to give offense,” he added, glancing up through thick lashes. “I’d hate to think I made you feel uncomfortable. Wasn’t my intent.”

The baker moved behind them, sliding loaves into the oven.

“I appreciate that,” she said after a beat, softening a little. “It’s easy to speak without thinkin’. We’ve all done it.”

He nodded slowly, tucking the pastry box under one arm. “You’re gracious. That’s a rare thing these days.”

His voice carried the right amount of warmth, and deference. It felt measured, not too eager, not too slick. The kind of tone a man used when he wanted to be trusted.

Still… something didn’t sit right. It wasn’t just about the way his eyes had lingered on her body in the general store. It was a wrongness she couldn’t name. But she smiled politely, thanked Mrs. Marshall, and turned toward the door.

Rumlow was already there, stepping ahead to hold it open.

“Let me,” he said, almost gallantly, the gentleman act slipping on like an old coat. “Least I can do.”

She hesitated, but walked through, nodding once as she passed.

“Actually,” he said once they were outside, “I was wonderin’... Would you let me make up for my tone earlier?” His gaze flicked sidelong, all soft lines. “There’s roast at the hotel restaurant today. Real nice. You let me buy you a plate, and share a civil conversation. Just neighbors, makin’ peace.”

She stopped on the sidewalk, lifting her chin just a notch, the crate against her hip.

He didn’t push. Just waited, still smiling. Still polite.

She stood there a beat too long.

The cold nipped at her shawl, and her hands pressed harder on the handle of the crate. Rumlow’s eyes didn’t press, but they didn’t look away either. Waiting. Open.

Maybe she was too quick to paint everyone with suspicion.

After all, he’d apologized. Earnestly. And while the way he’d spoken about Bucky earlier had crawled beneath her skin, wasn’t it, sadly, the sort of thing most decent folk thought? Especially with a man whose past came tangled in blood and bounty?

He had been trying to look out for her. In his own rough, clumsy way.

And maybe it wouldn’t hurt, just once, to indulge that peace offering. Squash whatever awkwardness might fester between them. Ensure she wouldn’t find herself whispered about in the corners of the general store or glared at by the banker's men.

You and the gunman got bad blood now? That’s not wise.

She adjusted her shawl and shifted the crate to her other hip. “Alright,” she said lightly, like she hadn’t just talked herself down from a dozen misgivings. “Lunch, then. Neighbors making peace. Let me leave the crate in the cart.”

He smiled widely, wider than she would have liked, though she told herself that was just his normal expression.

“Glad to hear it,” he said, offering his arm.

She didn’t take it.

Just walked beside him, with her back straight. Letting herself believe that maybe, she’d imagined that little flicker in his eyes.

----

Just across the road, down the mouth of an alley, the edge of a dark coat shifted with the wind.

Sheriff Barnes watched from a shadowed corner, with crossed arms, an unreadable face under the brim of his hat. A flicker of movement, a flash of her shawl as she walked beside Rumlow.

His jaw clenched once. Hard.

But he didn’t move. Didn’t follow.

Just watched them disappear into the warm light of the hotel’s front door.

Then turned, slow and silent, and walked the other way.

----

The hotel’s restaurant was quiet at midday, just a few men nursing coffee or waiting for stew. Rumlow waved off the waiter like he owned the place and guided her to a corner table with a hand lightly at her back, too lightly to protest, too familiar to ignore.

She sat across from him, smoothing the napkin across her lap, fussing her fingers with the edge of her spoon.

Rumlow ordered for them both without asking. “Beef’s decent today,” he said, flashing a smile full of teeth. “And I remember you don’t eat pepper bells.”

She blinked. “That’s… thoughtful.”

“Just observant,” he said, leaning back on the chair. “Always tryin’ to be of service. Like I always tell you on Sundays, if you ever need anything out there on your land, being alone and all… just send word.”

He smiled again, broader this time. His eyes didn’t leave her face.

She gave a soft, noncommittal hum, reaching for the glass of water. “I appreciate the sentiment, truly. And if I find myself in a bind… I’ll ask.” A pause. “I do have neighbors. And folks in town have been decent enough.”

“Sure,” he said, tapping the table with one finger. “But not everyone’ll come runnin’ without askin’ questions.”

She managed a polite smile, but the way he said it turned in her stomach. She kept sipping the water, cool against her tongue.

It wasn’t that he said anything wrong, exactly. But the idea of sending for Rumlow, having him alone at her property, with no one else around...

It didn’t feel right. Not like it had with Bucky.

Bucky had been half-dead, bleeding out, but somehow, even when he was better, she hadn’t felt unsafe. Never once worried what he might do, even when she’d undressed him, fed him, tended his wounds.

She forced her thoughts back to Rumlow, nodded once more. “That’s generous of you. I’ll keep it in mind.”

After all, Alexander Pierce was a respected man. A generous pillar of the community. He wouldn’t keep untrustworthy men around.

Right?

Still… her hands remained folded neatly in her lap. And she didn’t finish the stew.

----

An uneventful week came and went until one morning, when the sun had barely cleared the eastern ridge, she reached the edge of the orchard and stopped cold.

Ten trees. Maybe more. Splintered stumps jutting from the ground like broken teeth. Pears crushed into the dirt, sticky and swarming with flies already.

She dropped her basket without realizing it.

She hadn’t heard a thing. Not a damn thing. No dogs barking, not the trees falling in the dark. But someone had been here. Someone had taken an axe to her land like it meant nothing. And done it close enough to her house.

Her trees. Years of work reduced to kindling. She clenched her fists.

She should’ve gone to the neighbors. Asked if one of their men saw something. But her mind snapped instead to a voice quieter than most, one that still echoed in her ears some nights.

If you ever find yourself in trouble... even if it seems foolish... come to me.

So she hitched the mare to the cart, fast and sloppily, threw her coat over her dress, and did a quick braid on her hair. She rode hard toward town, the wind biting her cheeks, dust and snow kicking up under the wheels. The orchard flashed behind her eyes with every jolt of the road.

By the time she reached the main street, the town had already stirred to life, doors propped open, smoke curling from chimneys, folks tipping hats in greeting. She didn’t slow down.

She pulled up hard in front of the sheriff’s office, and her boots hit the ground before the cart had even settled. The door creaked as she stepped inside.

Sam was behind the desk, polishing the handle of a shotgun with a rag over his knee. He looked up, blinking once.

“Morning, Ma’am,” he said. “You alright?”

Her chest rose and fell with uneven breaths. “Where’s the sheriff?”

Sam set the shotgun down slowly. “Ain’t here. Went to check somethin’. Why?”

She stepped forward. “Someone’s been on my land. Cut down half my pear trees. Fruit ruined.”

Sam stood now. The chair scraped back against the floor. “When?”

“Last night,” she said. “I didn’t hear a thing.”

He grabbed his hat from the peg behind him and motioned toward the bench along the wall. “Sit a spell. Let me ask you a few things. Bucky’s out workin’ a lead, but he’ll be back soon. Might help to have the details ready for him.”

She nodded and sat, folding her hands tightly in her lap. The office smelled like tobacco and oil, and the clock on the wall ticked too loudly in the quiet space.

Sam settled back behind the desk, already reaching for paper and pencil. “Now… you said trees were cut. You see tracks? Anything else disturbed? Tools left behind?”

She shook her head. “Nothing I could see. Just trunks, clean cut. Fruit all over the ground like someone went outta their way to ruin it.”

He hummed, jotting notes. “Any trouble with neighbors? Workers? Someone pass by lately that didn’t sit right?”

She hesitated. “No. Nothing like that. It’s been quiet.”

Sam gave a thoughtful nod. “Ain’t the kind of damage you do unless you’re lookin’ to send a message.” He tapped the pencil once on the desk. “Don’t worry, ma’am. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

She offered a tight smile, but her insides were churning.

The longer she sat, the more the walls pressed in. The louder the clock ticked than it had any right to, and the lamplight made the air feel thick. Her mouth had gone dry, but her palms were damp in her skirt.

Sam noticed. “You alright?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, then stood. “I think… I should go. Need to get back. If the sheriff -or you- come by later, just knock.”

“You sure you don’t wanna wait a little longer?” Sam asked, standing too, “He might be back any minute.”

She shook her head. “I’m just tired. I’d rather be home. Thank you, deputy.”

He gave a polite tip of his head, watching her go with a thoughtful frown as she stepped out into the sunlight.

The town was louder now with creaking wagons and raising voices. She moved down the steps, trying to clear her head, focusing on each step.

Then, a smooth and too familiar voice startled her.

“Well, now. Didn’t expect to see you in town this early.”

She looked up.

Rumlow.

He was standing near the water trough, with his arms folded, chewing something leisurely. His eyes flicked over her -lingering too long, as always- before returning to her face.

“You alright?” he asked, all concerned, all charm. “You look rattled.”

She froze for half a second before forcing her shoulders back, smoothing her skirt. “Just had a bit of trouble at home,” she said, cautiously but politely.

“That so?” he said, stepping closer, narrowing his gaze just slightly. “You know, if you ever need help out there…”

She offered a tight smile. “That’s kind of you, really. I’ll ask if I ever need anything.”

But she wouldn’t. Not from him.

Still, she told herself not to overthink. He was just being nice. Maybe a little crude sometimes, but it wasn’t rare in those lands. Maybe he just didn’t know how to talk to women like normal folk. So she said thank you, gave a small nod, and stepped around him, her heart ticking a little faster as she went.

Because no matter how calm his voice was, or how polished the apology, something about Brock Rumlow had always made her skin crawl.

And today, that feeling was worse.

----

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

The fire had burned low, casting soft golden fingers across the floorboards. The weight of the day, the trees, the ride, the faces in town, it all felt heavy across her shoulders, and when she sat on the old chair near the stove, just to rest her eyes… her body had decided for her.

She woke with a small jolt.

The fire was dimmer now. The room, colder. Outside, beyond the window, snow was falling in slow spirals, coating the ground. It took her a moment to place the faint sound she’d heard beneath the rustle of wind.

Knocking.

Not frantic, but insistent. Three times.

She sat up, with her heart climbing slowly into her throat, with one hand still tangled in the folds of the blanket.

It could be Bucky or Sam, or-

Another knock. Louder now. More forceful.

She rose slowly and turned slightly, squinting toward the window near the door. She couldn’t see much past the snow, but a tall figure stood on the porch, low hat, black coat pressed flat to a solid frame. Her pulse kicked up.

Then she heard his voice, low and unmistakable, behind the door.

“It’s me.”

----

She motioned him inside. He looked windblown and a little agitated, like he’d galloped the whole way and hadn’t let himself breathe since. The snow clung to his coat hem and melted in his hair, dampening the ends that curled against the collar of his long coat. His eyes were unreadable.

“Your horse-” she started.

“Took the liberty,” he cut in, his voice was low, rough from cold and something more. “To put him in the stable with the mare.”

She nodded, stepping back so he could pass fully inside. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing them in the warmth of the house. He stood awkwardly near the threshold, like he didn’t know what to do with himself now that he was here.

“Sam filled me in,” he said after a pause. “Before coming, I spoke with the closest neighbor. Just makin’ the rounds. Gotta ask a few questions myself, in case anything got missed.”

She gestured toward the sitting room. “Well, come on then. No use freezin’ in the entry.”

He slowly followed her in, removing his hat, pressing his fingers at the brim. The fire snapped softly in the hearth. She’d tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders, motioning for him to sit. He did, stiff-backed, resting his hands on his thighs, eyes on the fire instead of her.

She studied him for a moment. He looked guarded. More than usual. Not just tired or worn down, but distant, like he’d put something between them and couldn’t find the words to move it.

“Something wrong?” she asked quietly.

“No,” he said too quickly. “Just doin’ my job.”

Except he wasn’t. Or he was, but this wasn’t the man who’d laid half-dead in her bed. Not like the one who’d eaten preserves with careful hands and watched her when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

This version of him was tense and cold. Polite, but brittle.

She tried not to let it show. “You said you had questions,” she offered softly.

He nodded, like he had to remind himself why he was here. “Right.”

And then came the usual list: had she seen anything, heard anything, remembered anything new? She gave the same answers she’d given Sam, almost word for word.

Until he shifted in his chair. Cleared his throat. Didn’t meet her eye.

“Has anyone new been here the last few days? Spent time with you in town?”

She blinked. “New? No. You were the last new person here. Before you…” She shrugged. “Just the neighbors. Their wives.”

He swallowed hard, flexing his jaw. “Let me rephrase,” he said, and something in his tone turned pointed. “You spend time with anyone lately? Had a conversation that got… close? Maybe a disagreement? Some kind of confidence?”

Her brow furrowed. “Not that I recall.”

He exhaled sharply, and sat back like he didn’t believe her, or didn’t want to. “This won’t work if you play coy.”

The room went still. The crackle of the fire filled the gap he left.

She stared at him, clutching the blanket in her lap, as something cold crawled beneath her skin that had nothing to do with the snow outside.

“I’m not playin’ anything, Sheriff,” she said firmly. “And if you think I am, maybe you should try askin’ plainer.”

He raked a hand through his damp hair, his face shadowed in firelight. “I didn’t mean it like-”

“No?” she cut in. “Because it’s starting to sound like you did.”

A beat passed by.

“Sorry,” he said, dropping his gaze. “I shouldn’t’ve said it like that.”

She let out a breath through her nose. Nodded once.

He hated this. Hated that his chest felt tight over something he had no business feeling.

He didn’t tell her that seeing her step into the hotel with Rumlow, with his hand hovering too close to her waist, had lit something ugly in his chest. That made him feel stupid, boyish. Like a stray dog sniffing around a place he didn’t belong.

It wasn’t jealousy. He didn’t have that right. Hell, they weren’t anything. She’d helped him. Cared for him. He’d held onto that feeling too long, long enough to let his thoughts wander where they shouldn’t.

But damn it, something in him had imprinted on her. And now here he was. Snapping at her like she’d betrayed something between them, like she’d wounded a bond they’d never named.

It wasn’t fair. Not to her.

It wasn’t even like he had a clean slate to stand on. He was a man with a past soaked in ash and blood. A man most decent folk crossed the street to avoid, badge or not.

He scrubbed a hand down his face. The stubble rasped against his palm.

“I just think you’re leavin’ something out,” he said, the words coming out too rough, too flat.

She looked at him like he’d just insulted her straight to her face. “Well, think again. Because-”

“I saw you,” he said. The breath in his chest caught halfway through, but he forced it out anyway. “The day you dropped me off.”

That made her blink. “I went to the general store. Then the bakery-”

“The hotel,” he cut, and that stopped her cold.

Something shifted behind her eyes, confusion, maybe. But that didn’t matter. Not to the part of him that had ridden out here with this iron weight pressing deep in his chest. The part that saw her walking past those swinging doors with Rumlow on her heels like a man walking where he was welcome. Too welcome.

She stared at him, the corner of her mouth twitched, maybe with realization, maybe with anger. “I had lunch,” she said, incredulous. “At the restaurant.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t blink.

She scoffed, a breath of disbelief. “Jesus. Is that what this is? You think-?”

“I don’t think anything,” he said stiffly, gaze burning into the dark of the fire instead of her face. “It’s not my business what you do, or who you see.”

Except it was. Except his guts had twisted since Sam mentioned Rumlow’s name. Since he’d watched that hotel door open and seen her coming in with a small smile. Like they were gonna-

His jaw worked, tight.

“Unless it has something to do with your land being torn up,” he added, quieter now. “Unless it puts you in danger.”

But that wasn’t why it haunted him. Not really.

He hated that the thought even crossed his mind.

And most of all, he hated that he’d ridden all this way, with a badge and a reason, and still couldn’t look her in the eye.

She didn’t move for a moment.

Just sit there until she finally looked up. “So that’s what you think of me.”

Bucky’s jaw twitched. “I didn’t say-”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t say it. You just asked around it, circled it, hoped I’d fill in the blanks for you.” Her voice was calm, but it cut straight through the dim room like a knife.

She crossed her arms, not defensively, more like she was holding herself together. “You think I’d do that. After what we- after the way we sat under the same roof, broke bread, shared the quiet without needing to fill it? You think I’d let a man like that in my bed just because he looked my way?”

He winced; the soft tone she used did more to shake him than if she’d raised her voice.

“I don’t know what I thought,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “I just… saw you with him. Walkin’ into that place. And my head ran with it.”

“I went for roast,” she said plainly. “I sat across a table and let a man I don’t like tell me I should be grateful he looks out for me, like he owns the right. And I smiled through it because sometimes that’s easier than making an enemy in a town too small to disappear in.”

She took a breath. “If you wanted to know, you could’ve asked. You didn’t need to look at me like I’d proved something ugly.”

His throat worked around a word he couldn’t get out. His hand flexed once at his side like he wanted to reach for something but didn’t know what. He looked down.

“I’m sorry.” It came rough.

She didn’t speak.

He forced himself to meet her eyes, even if it made something twist in his gut. “I ain’t good at this.”

Still nothing from her, but she wasn’t walking away. That was something.

“I saw you with him, and I knew what it looked like, but I also knew it didn’t mean what my head started sayin’ it did. But I let it talk anyway. I ain’t used to bein’ in the company of decent folk, ma’am,” he added, reverting without meaning to, the word slipping out like armor. “I should’ve known better.”

Her stance relaxed a little, just enough to notice.

“Damn right you should’ve,” she said.

Well, it wasn’t cold. Not quite.

And it wasn’t a door shutting in his face.

Bucky sat there, with his hat hanging in his hand, rubbing his thumb slowly over the brim. He looked like he’d rather be anywhere else than under her gaze, but he stood his ground all the same.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, voice quieter this time. “I was wrong to think it. Or to speak it. Either.”

Her arms folded tighter across her chest.

“I know what that sounded like,” he said, trying again. “And I’d take it back if I could. You… didn’t deserve that. You deserved better than me makin’ you feel low in your own home, after all you’ve done.”

He paused, looked down again. He shook his head, like the words failed him.

She didn’t speak for a long moment, studying him, how his fingers twitched around the hat brim, how his boots didn’t quite plant firmly on the floor like they usually did. He wasn’t looking at her now, with his gaze fixed on the corner of the room like it might forgive him if she didn’t.

“You always call me by my name,” she said finally. “Except just now.”

His jaw flexed, and his mouth worked once before answering. “Didn’t figure I’d earned it anymore.”

The quiet stretched again.

Then came the smallest exhale. Not quite a sigh, not quite a laugh.

“Sheriff,” she said dryly, “you have the backbone to drag a half-dead body into law and stare down a gun barrel, but the moment a woman looks disappointed in you, you start unravelin’ like a spool.”

That got his eyes to lift, just barely.

“And I’m not sayin’ I’m ready to be all smiles and pie,” she added, softer now. “But I can see when a man’s trying.”

He swallowed. Gave a small nod.

She got up and reached for the kettle without looking at him. “Might as well stay a bit. Snow’s still fallin’.”

And that -more than anything- was her way of saying he was forgiven.

She smoothed the skirt of her dress with one hand, though it didn’t need smoothing. Her voice was calmer now, even, but not cold.

“Answerin’ your question… I didn’t have an altercation with anyone.”

His eyes slowly lifted to her at that.

She met his gaze without flinching. “Mr. Rumlow invited me to have lunch. Said it was a way to make amends for somethin’ he’d said earlier. A misspoke, that’s all.”

Her tone wasn’t defensive, but measured. Like she was offering him the facts and not asking for approval.

“And before you ask-” she added, tilting her head slightly, “it was nothin’ that matters to the issue at hand.”

He was quiet. Too quiet.

Then, low: “Without due respect, I’ll decide if it’s not important.”

His thumb rubbed slowly along the edge of his belt. “What did he say, that needed apologizin’ for?”

There was no heat in the question, but something in his posture had stiffened, and his gaze pressed on her. Heavy. Blue and unreadable.

She sighed, slightly curling her fingers around the fold of her skirt.

“He said… I oughta be careful who I’m seen with.” Her lips pressed into a line. “Then went on about your past. What you used to do before you came here.”

A flicker of reaction passed through his body -barely there- but she saw it. A twitch in the jaw, the faintest crease between his brows. Still, he didn’t speak.

“I told him I didn’t see how that was any of his business,” she added quietly. “He backed off. Seemed sorry. And I figured… I dunno. Maybe he was tryin’ to look out for me in his own way.”

He nodded once, slowly and shallow, and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

Something about his silence didn’t feel like judgment.

It felt like shame.

He needed to get a hold of himself. Do his damn job.

But he wasn’t made of stone.

He leaned back slightly, fixing his eyes somewhere near the wood grain on the floorboards, working his jaw like he was grinding down a thought that wouldn’t settle.

Rumlow and he had been oil and water from the start. The second he stepped foot in that town wearing the badge, Rumlow had made it clear he didn’t much care for new dogs sniffin’ around old territory. Tried to undermine him from the first week, worded suggestions like they were orders, challenged decisions with a smile too thin to be friendly.

The man was used to a softer sheriff, someone who knew how to look the other way when Pierce’s interests didn’t align with the law.

And Bucky… didn’t look away.

It had come to a head not long after he took the post, in the middle of Main Street, hands twitching toward pistols. Townsfolk froze in their tracks. No bullets flew that day, but it was a close thing. Banker Pierce had stepped in, of course. Smoothed it over with the mayor, all shaking hands and backroom talks, calling for a “more amicable coexistence between two capable and trustworthy men.” That’s what he’d said.

He never forgot the wording. Nor the way Rumlow smiled afterward, all teeth and threat. They hadn’t traded words since unless it was required, but that cold simmer never left. And now…

Now that son of a bitch had gone and put his name in her mouth. Dug up pieces of his past and handed them to her like stones, waiting to see if she’d throw them back at him.

He swallowed slowly and tightly.

“And you suppose he told you all that just to be helpful,” Bucky said, tone clipped. “Lookin’ out for you.”

Her lips pressed into a line. “That’s what he claimed.”

Bucky’s hand flexed once on his thigh.

“Alright,” he said after a beat. “Did he say anything else to you that might be… meaningful?”

She shrugged, like she hadn’t thought twice about it. “Sincerely, no. It’s the same speech over and over about me being alone.”

That caught his attention. Subtle, but sharp.

He straightened slightly. “And what speech is that?”

She turned to remove the kettle from the heat. “Oh, you know. That I oughta ask for help if I need it. That I can count on him for anything.” She paused, poured water into the mugs. “He always says it like he’s doin’ me a kindness.”

Bucky narrowed his gaze. The warmth from the fire didn’t reach the knot forming low in his gut. “You say ‘same speech.’ Does he bring it up often? That you’re alone. That you- need a man around.”

She furrowed her brow, like she hadn’t thought of it that way before. “I mean... yeah, I guess he does. Just figures it’s odd I’m still by myself out here.”

“Hmm.”

Just a sound. Nothing else.

But behind his eyes, the gears turned. Slow. Steady. Ugly.

The day she brought him to town, Rumlow saw them together. Saw her at his side, blanket on their laps. Not even two hours later, the man had cornered her with a mouth full of sugar and tried to tear Bucky’s name to pieces. Then offered himself up instead. Big-hearted. Concerned. Eager to step in.

If that was something he did often, subtle, polite, persistent… and if Sam’s warning was true… other men had tried before. Men who'd backed off too fast. Or had little accidents. Coincidence, maybe. But now?

Now, it was starting to look like something else.

Because maybe Rumlow wasn’t just tryin’ to win her favor.

Maybe now he was trying to scare her into his arms.

The thought curled like smoke in the corners of Bucky’s mind, foul and slow. He didn’t let it show, just kept his eyes on her face, his voice quiet.

“And… have you ever taken him up on it?” he asked. “Relied on him? Brought him out here?”

She turned halfway, with the kettle still in her hand, furrowing her brow as if the question caught her off guard.

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head with a little laugh. “No, I never have. I mean… I can’t name it, and maybe it is silly, but I don’t-” her fingers pressed a little harder around the kettle’s handle, “there’s something about him that rubs me the wrong way.”

Bucky watched her carefully and didn’t interrupt.

“It’s not that he’s done anything wrong,” she added, like she was trying to be fair even to her discomfort. “On the contrary, he’s polite. Apologetic. Always offers help.” She exhaled, looking at the wall like it might explain what she couldn’t. “But he makes me uncomfortable.”

He nodded once, slowly. Said nothing at first, just stared into the fire like he was measuring its heat.

But inside him, a match had been struck.

Because she had no idea how well her instincts were working. How lucky, maybe, that she hadn’t needed help yet. That she hadn’t given that vulture an inch to take.

He cleared his throat and looked at her again, voice rougher than before. “Trust your gut.”

She blinked. “What?”

“If he makes you feel that way. Don’t second-guess it.” His gaze met hers, firmer now. “Ain’t silly.”

She held his stare for a breath, slightly softening her posture. “…Alright,” she murmured. Then, quieter, “Thank you.”

And he gave her the smallest nod in return.

But inside?

He was already thinking about how fast a man could lose a hand for reaching too far.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @civilbucky @pandaxnienke @whitewolfluvr @webbedwonders @ddrewcameron @globetrotter28 @homiesexual-or-homosexual @maryevm @nojudgmentjustsupport @jaderabbitt @hi172826 @littlesuniee @lonelyghosts-stuff @vxllys @mrsalexstan @winter107soldier @muchwita @gentlelimerence @gotminho @alaskaloveposts @oldernotwiser26 @daylighthazzz @dollface-xoxo @danzer8705 @ana27qz @carrotlove @valyriantarg @mgchaser @kittieboo @buckysbbydoll @purplefluffycows @yes-ilovetowrite @greatenthusiasttidalwave @technicallytinyheart @y0urgrl @wintrsoldrluvr @neyr100

[lueurjun]

━━━━ celestial vows. h. hyunjin

underground boxer!hyunjin x reader. written on pure sleep deprived vibes at 5 am after one too many hyunjin edits and a sudden rush of motivation to write.

“i’m going to give you a big house one day.”

delicate, lingering kisses brush against your skin, hidden beneath the veil of night. they scatter softly along your arm, trailing over your shoulder and up the curve of your neck, until they reach your lips. each kiss is a silent vow, a promise sealed by hyunjin’s lips, unbreakable as always. but this is more than a promise—it’s an oath. an oath to be better, to give you not just what you want, but what he believes you need.

“i’m going to get it all for you. the big house in the countryside, the dream car, the dogs. all of it—right now, it’s just a promise, a glimpse of the dream. but when the chance comes, i’ll make it real. i’m all in, baby, and it’s all for you."

another promise, sealed with a kiss—this time on your lips. firm yet soft, it leaves you sinking into him like velvet, every sense overwhelmed. as he draws back, his lips brush your nose, a whisper of a kiss, before he rests his head on your chest. he listens for your heartbeat, the rhythm he knows like the back of his hand, as if it were his favorite song, a melody he never tires of, woven into the fabric of his soul.

your hand slips into his hair, fingers threading through the soft strands, sending shivers rippling through his body. with your free hand, you gently trace the fresh scar on his cheek—a reminder of the price he's paying for the dream he’s hellbent on building for you. a life funded by something far from lawful—a job that tears at your heart, as if it endures the blows meant for him

"i don’t need any of that. not as long as i have you here with me, breathing and safe." the one-bedroom apartment is far from perfect; it’s cold, damp, and mold clings to the walls. it doesn’t feel like home; it’s just a place to exist. but you don’t need a nice house when your real sanctuary is found in two arms and a heartbeat—one you want to keep strong and steady.

“tell me what you envision for our future house.”

“hyunjin-”

he catches your hand, cradling it gently to his lips. “humour me, just this once.” though the darkness of the bedroom shields his eyes, you can feel the warmth of his gaze knowing that a lazy smile accompanies the usual shimmer in the brown.

“i picture being surrounded by plenty of land so our dogs can roam freely, enjoying life as they please. i’d love to have my own little garden, where i can plant pretty flowers and grow fresh produce for dinner. And i dream of a big bedroom with a bed that takes up the entire space—just so you’d stop hogging the mattress—” a yelp slips out before you realize it, surprised by his finger poking your side in warning, and you chuckle lightly. “but most of all, i want you. i want to come home every day and find you in that garden, playing with the dogs. i want to slow dance in our big kitchen, illuminated only by the moonlight… i just want you, hyunjin."

emotion sweeps over you like a gentle tide, and you lower your head, burying your face in his hair, inhaling the scent that feels like home, enveloping you in its warmth. he’s here, he’s safe—untouched and unbroken. he’s still your hyunjin, a steadfast light in the shadows, grounding you with his presence.

“you have me.” a promise tenderly bounded with a soft kiss upon your chest. “you will always have me, and i’ll give you everything and more. you deserve the world, and i swear it will be within your reach… just—” he exhales softly, vulnerability lingering in the air like a delicate thread. “just don’t leave me, okay? even when the fear rises and threatens to tear us apart… i know it’s selfish, but i can’t handle this without you. just hold on for me, will you?”

you nod, fully aware that leaving is not an option, even if you wished for it. your heart is intricately bound to his, a connection no one could sever—not even the dangerous path he insists on walking. whether you like it or not, you’re in this for the long haul; for the quiet moments spent cleaning up after his fights, for the anxious hours spent waiting for his safe return… for the life he has sketched in his mind. you’re in it for everything. for him.

“i won’t. but don’t leave me either, okay? keep that heart beating for me, yeah?”

he smiles against your chest, tilting his head up to meet your gaze. In the dim light, his silhouette blurs, yet you find him effortlessly, pressing your forehead against his. “Yeah. always.”

he seals his most crucial promise with a kiss to your lips. he can’t guarantee a safe return, but he’ll fight with every ounce of his strength. and as fear grips you, his words and actions provide a soothing comfort, allowing you to drift into a peaceful sleep with him wrapped around you, safe and sound.

[snorkelborg]

Any gender!reader with temperature problems in that one scene where they hide in the deer from the weather?! maybe some heartfelt words or something from ogata!! That may be out of character, but I’d like to see where it goessss :3

-☎️ 🍒

"Something Warmer.."

⋆｡°✩ Ogata x GN!Reader ❄️ WC - 2,002 I couldn't find a pic that matched the fic so bear with me lol. Anyway, this is Gender Neutral reader x Ogata! It's a little reader-centric :3 I tried to make it as in-character as possible while giving some meaningful dialogue? I hope it came across as such! Anyway, enjoyyy!! Sorry if it's bad, this is my 2nd attempt at writing a fanfic ever haha, I'm still stealing Tumblr formatting from my friend 😭

You've always had trouble keeping warm. This itself wasn’t anything new to the team. Once on a particularly cold night, you’d convinced Sugimoto and Asirpa to dogpile on you so that your fingers literally wouldn’t freeze off.

This was the sort of “agreement” you three had. You and Sugimoto had been longtime friends so it wasn’t exactly difficult to persuade him to agree to this, and Asirpa enjoyed the warmth of the two of you. 

Long before those two, you’d keep warm with animals instead. Every night you’d slink into your parent's farm with a blanket and pillow, squeeze yourself between the herding dogs and sheep and pray that you’d wake up the following day without a ball of fur in your mouth. It wasn’t often that your prayers were met. Sugimoto often teased you about this, remarking that it made you smell like a barn. Your parents weren’t particularly proud of this quirk either.

Rarely did you get a good night's rest without something extra to keep you warm. Blankets weren’t enough- something else always had to fill in that creeping emptiness that you’d begin to feel as your fingers blued and your heartbeat slowed.

When the group began to expand, not only with the addition of Shiraishi but Tanigaki, Ogata, and the others, you stopped sharing a sleeping place and began freezing yourself once again.

Even though you got to stay somewhere nicer every now and then with Hijikata taking charge, you still felt cold. Nothing in the world could quell it. 

The cold wasn’t just a lack of warmth. It was the kind that crept into your ribs and made you feel like a ghost among the living. Like you didn’t deserve to feel their warmth anymore.

Having to share a space with other people meant that you couldn’t request extra blankets without looking greedy, and while you did care about your own well-being a tad bit more than your reputation, getting on people's good side seemed to be something you should keep in mind.

Speaking of which, you never could tell which side you were on with Ogata.

You’d known Sugimoto well enough to practically finish his sentences for him- it wasn’t hard to work with him. Asirpa, despite her stubborn nature, had taken quite a liking to you as well. Shiraishi was simple enough to cohabitate with. Though he was a definite oddball he had a somewhat functioning brain on his shoulders and you two could get along just fine.

The difference between Ogata and those three is that they know how to express themselves while Ogata does not. Or rather, he chooses not to. 

You’d first met him during his fight with Sugimoto, of which you’d witnessed the entirety of. He didn’t greet you then, of course- too busy fighting. He was striking; his figure haunted you ever since. You’d thought that was the end of it, till he showed up again and proved you wrong.

The sound of sniper rifles had pleased your ears since. In a sort of sick way, you wanted to see him again- even if it meant another fight. You thought about it at night in your tent, dogpiled with the others.

You thought about it during fights, getting disappointed when the soldier's faces didn’t match his.

It’s the kind of delusion that somebody has and doesn’t expect to be entertained. The saying ‘be careful what you wish for’ rang in your ears every time your thoughts made their way back to him.

Your wish was granted when you saw him again after the fiasco with Edogai’s skins, where he decided it was a great time to greet you.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Ogata Hyakunosuke,” he said, stretching his hand out in greeting.

You stared at him incredulously.

“I know who you are,” you stated flatly, struggling to keep your composure.

“Is that so?” He replied, keeping his hand outstretched.

“You fell into a river with my best friend and broke your chin. You don’t remember that? I feel like that was pretty significant.”

At this he frowned, his hand finally reeling back as he understood you weren’t going to greet him.

“Holding a grudge? Over that?” His tone was light, almost amused. But his eyes didn’t match.

You shrugged him off and continued what you were doing, ignoring his uncomfortable lingering presence. A poor attempt at ignoring the deafening beating of your heart. Since then, he’d made it a point to linger behind you no matter what you did. You weren’t sure if he was guarding your back out of some sort of misplaced affection or aiming for it.

You told yourself you didn’t care. That the only reason he lived in your head was because he was dangerous- something to be feared. But the truth was harder to swallow- it wasn’t the fear that kept you up at night.

It was the memory of his voice. The way he looked at you like you were prey. Or maybe a puzzle to be taken apart and solved. 

Once, while talking to Sugimoto, you looked away for just a second. There Ogata was, watching. Not just watching- studying. The way someone reads a sniper scope. You froze. He didn’t look away.

A cold prickle danced down your neck.

You turned back to Sugimoto and pretended not to feel the heat blooming in your cheeks. You pretended not to miss the weight of his stare when it was finally gone. 

If Sugimoto noticed, he certainly didn’t speak on it, though you could feel his palpable disapproval.

After the chaotic invasion on the Asahikawa 7th Division and the rescue of Shiraishi a fierce windstorm swept through the plains you had escaped to, dropping the temperature lower than anyone had anticipated.

Your hands become numb within just a few minutes. Asirpa's quick thinking gave you hope for a moment as you prepared to hide inside the deer that had just been taken down.

"Will you be alright alone in there?" Sugimoto asked. "You know, I’d be fine taking my own deer. You could share one with Asirpa."

Only four deer had been downed, and there wasn’t enough space for everyone to have one. It was clear that Asirpa would be the one who needed to share her space with someone else, taking into account her size.

"I d-don’t want to be a burden," you mumbled, your teeth chattering. "I’ll be fine. You and Asirpa should share one."

Sugimoto opened his mouth to argue, clearly aware that you were not fine, but Shiraishi had run off with Asirpa chasing after him to catch up.

He quickly returned on his own though and with Asirpa absence Sugimoto quickly set off to find her, leaving you shivering in the cold with no hope but to crawl inside of the deer and pray that wouldn’t be the last thing you did.

The deer stunk of blood and guts, and it was already losing heat. You couldn’t stop yourself from trembling. Your breath came in ragged huffs, puffing white in the air like smoke from a dying fire.

Your fingers had long since lost their color- it looked as though you were a corpse. You huddled, knees pressed to your chest, but it did nothing to keep the chill from climbing up your spine. The hide barely shielded you from the wind anymore.

You curled into yourself tighter, pressing your face into your sleeve. You told yourself you could make it till morning, that you weren’t going to die.

You began to feel like that was a lie.

Your body wouldn’t stop shaking. Your jaw ached from being clenched so hard and yet still the cold crept in deeper. It felt personal- malicious. Like it knew what it was doing. It wanted to pull you under and take you out of this world so quickly that no one would even notice you were gone. Not in this storm- not in the body of another creature who was too weak to keep even itself from dying, and who you expected to stop you from dying as well.

How dare you demand warmth from something that had long since gone cold.

You bit your lip hard enough to taste iron.

It wasn’t supposed to be this cold. You weren’t supposed to be alone.

For a long time you sat there in silence. Thinking. Weighing. Not just the decision– but what it would look like. What it would mean. What it said about you if you came crawling to him.

And what it said about you that you wanted to.

There were other options- you could go to Shiraishi. You could resign yourself to your fate and sink into the cold grip of death. But Shiraishi wasn’t warm- he wasn’t Ogata either. And you weren’t going to let yourself die. Not like this. Your breath shuddered out of you in a small, broken sound. And then, you began to move.

You pushed the hide aside and staggered out into the cold, barely keeping your balance on half-frozen legs. You weren’t sure what guided you- instinct, desperation, or something far uglier. You just knew where you were going. Knew exactly where he was.

You didn’t have to question if you arrived at the correct deer- you knew you had. It was like your mind remembered him better than it did warmth. 

Thankfully, his deer was much larger than the others. Large enough to fit two, perhaps.

Your stomach twisted in anticipation. Had he meant for this to happen?

And still, you called for him. “Ogata.”

The flap of the hide shifted slightly. Not enough to invite you in- just enough for you to catch the glint of one sharp, catlike eye.

“What happened to your deer?” came his voice, low and unreadable. But you heard it. The edge of amusement underneath.

“It’s cold,” you bit out.

“Mm,” he hummed. “And you want something warmer.”

You said nothing.

The pause dragged, long and deliberate. You felt yourself sinking into the earth.

Then, he shifted again- just a slight shuffle to the side. Enough room for you.

But no invitation.

You hated how you moved anyway. You hated how slow your limbs felt as you lowered yourself into the space beside him, how your breath shook when the flap sealed shut behind you.

Inside, the air was still. Stale, almost- but warm.

Your body moved on instinct, curling in on itself, trying to steal whatever heat you could from the space. You didn’t dare look at him. But you felt him. Right there beside you- quiet and unflinching.

“You should’ve come sooner,” he said eventually, as quiet as a whisper.

You turned your face toward him. “What?” 

He didn’t repeat himself. Didn’t look at you either.

But his meaning lingered, heavy in the silence between you.

You should’ve come to me sooner.

You shivered again, this time not just from the cold.

A long stretch of silence followed. You could hear his breath, feel the humidity against the back of your neck, slow and steady. The faint brush of his cloak against your side. 

Then- his hand. Not on yours. Not comforting. Just there. Resting near your hip. Close enough to make you tense. Close enough to feel deliberate.

“You came here because you needed something,” he said.

“I came here so I wouldn’t freeze to death,” you shot back.

He made a soft sound- half laugh, half scoff. “Not the same thing?”

You clenched your jaw.

Still, when you didn’t pull away, his hand didn’t move.

It didn’t wander. Didn’t grab.

Just stayed. Heavy and certain. Like he was staking his claim.

“You don’t like me,” he said quietly, almost lazily. “But you still came.”

He was watching you. You could feel it- like a weight.

“I didn’t have a choice,” you muttered.

“Mm. That’s what you tell yourself,” he said, then turned his head, the words brushing so close you could feel his breath on your ear:

“But you chose me.”

Credits to @hermes-obsessed for being my editor on this!

[skzfairyyydreamz]

Gentle Love w/ Bf!Channie❣️

(listening to save you by rum.gold on repeat while reading this is highly recommended for ambience purposes). Masterlists

Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Friends to lovers

pairing: Bestfriend/Bf!Chan x Fem!Reader

a/n: This seasonal depression got ya gurl heavily craving some form of comfort so this one was a bit self indulgent. i’ve never wrote a headcanon before but i really enjoyed making this so i hope you enjoy it too! (please give me your feedback) reblogs are super appreciated. taglist is open so lmk if you would like to be taglisted!! Lastly Thank you sm for being here; sending lots of love and big hugs to everyone who needs it right now. 🫶🏼🫂

© Skzfairyyydreamz - Plagiarism is a crime. Do not repost, alter, translate or copy without my consent.

Bestfriend!Channie who settled with his unrequited love for you bc there was nobody else who could ever compare to you & nobody else he had eyes for.

Bestfriend!Channie who always had to love you from a distance bc he just didn’t have it in him to confess and potentially ruin something that was so special to him.

Bestfriend!Channie who had to sit back and watch you love shitty men who didn’t deserve you.

Bestfriend!Channie Who watched you cry over men who didn’t even deserve to be in your presence in the slightest. 

Bestfriend!Channie who helped you through each heartbreak bc there was never a time that he wasn’t there when you needed him. 

Bestfriend!Channie who knew in his heart that there was absolutely nobody that could ever love you better than he, bc he knew you better than anyone else in the world.

Bestfriend!Channie who finally worked up the courage to tell you how madly in love with you he was and always has been (with the help of your mother ofc; she saw the way he looked at you with the whole galaxy in his eyes and had always wanted you two to be together. Mama always knows best!) 

Bf!Channie who loves you with every bone in his body and every fiber of his being.

Bf!Channie who just wants to save you. Save you from all your past love traumas and mend your heart. 

Bf!Channie who helps you on your healing journey. 

Bf!Channie who shows you all the gentle, soft love in the world, bc its what you’ve always deserved.

Bf!Channie who makes it his business to give you the best of everything and stands on that. 

Bf!Channie who always puts you first. Before anything and anyone. 

Bf!Channie who does his best to learn and indulge you in ALL of your love languages. 

Bf!Channie who never fails to treat you like a princess, a queen, a goddess and more. 

Bf!Channie who will tie your shoes for you and slap your hand when you try to open doors on your own. “Don’t you ever reach for a doorknob in my presence, thank you very much!” as he rolls his eyes and shakes his head in a playful disbelief. 

Bf!Channie who will take off a week of work if you’re sick just to nurse you back to health regardless of your protesting. 

Bf!Channie who is always showing you off, rolling out the red carpet no matter who’s around. 

Bf!Channie who refuses to let either of you go to sleep upset at each other. bc he just cherishes you and prioritizes the importance of communication in your relationship that much. (he’s honestly such a king) 

Bf!Channie who is always calm and gentle with you; attentive to your feelings even mid argument.

Bf!Channie who takes interest in/ learns about all your hobbies and things that you are passionate about bc seeing you happy, makes him even happier. 

Bf!Channie who is so fond of your family and siblings. he has great relationships with all your family members and will never miss a single family gathering regardless to his busy schedule and idol life. 

Bf!Channie who hates to see you hurting or in pain. With teary eyes he wouldn’t hesitate to tell you “Princess You know i’d take this pain for you in a heartbeat if i could!” whether it be a broken bone, killer period cramps or even something as simple as a paper cut or a headache. His chest is heavy knowing there isn’t much he can do to comfort you and stop you from feeling any physical pain or discomfort. (i’m literally on the verge of sobbing, not me making myself emotional half way through writing this some one please send help 😭) 

Bf!Channie who is such an amazing listener. whether you are ranting about a horrible day at work or having a transparent moment about the current state of your mental health. He listens super attentively, giving you his undivided attention. Never breaking eye contact, He’ll hold both your hands in his occasionally leaving gentle reassuring kisses to your knuckles as you sit on your bed cross legged in front of each other. (this is so so so boyfie channie coded nobody talk to me im sobbing 😭) 

Bf!Channie who loves to take you on romantic night walks through the city. it has been your thing for years even before you two started dating. 

Bf!Channie who always invites you to join him on his late nights at the studio bc he just wants you to be near him. Even tho you are quite literally just there to sit in a reclining chair eating snacks while you rest your legs in this lap. You both are so content and cozy. He claims to work better with you around him and you absolutely adore watching your sexy producer man boyfie in his element. even if you are only staring at the side of his face for hours on end you will never turn down his offers.  

Bf!Channie who takes the sidewalk rule super seriously. there will never be a time where he will let you walk on the outside of him, always keeping you safe from any passing cars with his right arm around your shoulder, your waist or holding your hand while you walk together. 

Bf!Channie who is super protective and can be slightly possessive over the love of his life. always wanting to know your whereabouts and who you’re with; Sometimes even hiring a bodyguard for you when you are solo traveling for work or going to big modeling events when he isn’t able to attend with you. especially since you’re now well known in the public eye for being the significant other of one of 4th gens greatest! you now need to be protected and taken care of at all times (at least in his mind you do!) But You don’t blame him or ever complain bc you’ve been in pretty dangerous and traumatic situations before and thank god channie has always been there protecting you. He really has always been your knight in shining armor (shining armor being a black beanie and hoodie in his case 😂) 

Bf!Channie who loves your natural body just the way it is. Always reassuring you that he loves all your curves and the things that make you, you. Regardless to your insecurities he always has his hands on you some type of way whether he’s playing with your hair, resting his hands on you, absentmindedly massaging your legs while you two watch a movie together or coping a full feel as he walks past you in the kitchen; squeezing a whole hand full of booty cheek 😂 his hands are always on you. It’s so obvious how attracted and madly in love with you he is. 

Bf!Channie who loves your goofiness and all the silly ways you show your affection towards him. He loves it when you’re completely yourself. absolutely adoring whenever you’re in a playful mood and you just walk up to him to give him a quick bite on the shoulder and walk away with a smile on your face. he loves it even more when you’re really hyper and you do something unhinged like asking to give him a forehead kiss but instead licking his face and running away from him in a fit of giggles before he can catch you. (which he easily does a few seconds later) 

Bf!Channie who loves your pretty brown eyes. easily zoning out sometimes getting lost in your deep eyes mid conversation which always ends up with his ears and cheeks turning a bright red color at you snapping your fingers in front of his face and the sound of your voice bringing him back from a daydream.. “Hello!?? earth to loverboy!? are you with me?? ”

Bf!Channie who loves how soft you are with him. Always touching his hands or softly grabbing one of his pinky fingers when you want to get his attention to show or tell him something. He melts into a puddle seeing how soft your eyes are for him and how your voice is always just barely above a whisper when you speak to him in the warm comfort of your home. you walking up to him while he’s relaxing or doing random things around the house, pushing a few strands of his hair out of his face or softly grabbing his chin and turning his face towards you to simply ask him if he’d like you to make him a quick snack or bring him a cold drink. it unleashes a swarm of butterflies in his tummy and makes his knees buckle every time without fail. (he never understands how something so soft and gentle drives him so crazy, he’s clearly weak in the knees for a soft dom!mommy 🥴) 

Bf!Channie who is so enchanted by your comfortable silence. You two have created such a cozy and calming atmosphere in your home. Always finding each other at random areas of the house at any random hour of the day and enjoying each other’s presence without saying a word. Bringing comfort to one another simply by just.. being. You could be catching up on a new kdrama as chan would come and lay his head in your lap for a nap, intertwining your fingers and placing your hand on his chest. And without a word you’d grab the throw blanket off the back of the sofa and put it over him so that he could sleep comfortably. the feeling of his heartbeat underneath the palm of your hand instantly bringing you a unexplainable warm fuzzy feeling. this was just something that always seemed to happen naturally for you two. this part of your relationship was like a tacit agreement. The way you would climb into channies lap and rest your head in the crook of his neck after finishing up a few house chores as he just scrolled on his phone. it was something so soothing that you both thoroughly enjoyed but never spoke on bc you simply just didn’t need to. this atmosphere you created in your home was even felt by others around you. Family and friends always telling you guys how they felt utterly safe and comfortable every time they were at your house. And that was your favorite compliment to receive as a couple. You two were made for one another.. everything just seemed to work. Truly the best of soulmates. 

Taglist: ??? @hanniemylovelyquokka @goblinracha <;3

buy me a coffee?

[crimson-shade]

tags 🏷️: fluff, dutch van der linde x f!reader, pet names, mention of gun

wc 💬: ⊱ 832

A/N: these are NOT my dividers btw <3

"Under the Moonlight"

—

The night is calm, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the quiet air. The rest of the gang has settled in, but Dutch seems restless. He’s always been a man of action, but tonight something is different. You’ve noticed it too — the tension that lingers between you both.

The stars above cast a soft glow, and the world feels both distant and too close. Dutch has been quieter than usual, and you can feel the weight of the unspoken words hanging between you.

You sit near the fire, cleaning your gun, your fingers moving absentmindedly over the metal. The crackling flames make the shadows dance across the campsite, but all you can focus on is the presence of Dutch — his tall figure, his posture, that commanding yet seductive air he always carries with him. You can feel him watching you.

“Sugar’,” his voice comes through the quiet, smooth and low, laced with a mix of weariness and warmth. “You don’t need to do that alone, you know.”

You look up, meeting his gaze. There’s something in his eyes tonight — an intensity you haven’t seen before, like he’s searching for something, or maybe someone. His lips curl into that signature, knowing smile, but there’s no mischief behind it this time. Just a soft, vulnerable honesty.

“I’m used to it,” you reply, trying to keep the tension light, but your heart picks up its pace, betraying you.

Dutch chuckles softly, stepping closer, his boots making little sound on the ground. “Used to it, huh? You sure? I reckon you’ve been carryin’ a lot of weight on those shoulders, my dear.”

The firelight catches the sharp angles of his face as he crouches down beside you. He watches you closely, his eyes never leaving yours as if trying to read every thought, every emotion you’re trying to hide. Dutch leans in just a little, close enough for you to feel his warmth, his presence drawing you in like a magnet.

“I’ve seen the way you carry yourself,” he continues, his voice a smooth drawl. “A woman like you… You don’t just fight the world, you take it all on yourself. Don’t you think that gets exhausting?

You swallow hard, his words hitting a little too close to home. There’s a quiet vulnerability in his voice, a sincerity that makes your chest tighten.

“You’re right,” you admit softly. “But it’s all I’ve known.”

Dutch’s gaze softens, and he gently places a hand on your arm, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. There’s no force behind it, only the comfort of a man who’s seen more pain than he’s willing to admit.

“Well, darlin’, maybe it’s time you let someone else help you with that load. Just for a moment.” His hand slides down your arm, fingertips brushing your skin. His tone is low, inviting, but still full of that Dutch bravado. “I’ve spent too long tryin’ to hold it all together for the gang… for us. But you—” He leans closer, his breath warm against your ear. “—you deserve more than this world can give you.”

You meet his gaze again, this time without the usual walls. There’s something raw in his eyes, something desperate — a man who’s lost his way, but still fighting for something, maybe even for you.

He takes a step closer, so close now that his chest is nearly brushing against yours. “I’m not a perfect man, sweetie, but I’ll be damned if I let you carry this world on your own. If you’ll let me… I’d carry it for you.”

His words hang in the air between you, like a promise, a plea — and something else, something deeper. Dutch’s fingers gently cup your chin, lifting your face to meet his. The heat from the fire only amplifies the heat between you two, the connection undeniable, magnetic.

“My dear,” he whispers, voice rough, laced with something that makes your pulse quicken. “You don’t need to be alone. Not with me.”

You lean in closer, the distance between you gone in a heartbeat. His lips hover just above yours, his breath mingling with yours. He doesn’t rush it, though, not like he used to when he was trying to command attention. No, tonight he’s something else — a man who has bared his soul and is now waiting for you to step forward.

“Dutch,” you whisper his name, and his heart skips a beat. In his eyes, you see both the fierce leader and the man who’s yearning for something real, something more than the chaos that surrounds him.

Without another word, Dutch finally closes the gap between you two, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that’s slow, tender, almost reverent. His hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you gently but firmly, as if afraid to break the fragile connection. The kiss deepens, soft yet demanding, and you feel the weight of the world lift — just for a moment.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you both breathe heavily, as if the air itself had changed.

“See, sweetheart’,” he murmurs with a crooked grin, his thumb gently brushing your lips. “I knew you needed a break.”

You chuckle softly, your heart racing. “Maybe I did.”

His eyes twinkle, full of warmth and something else — an unspoken promise that, despite everything, he’ll always be there to catch you when you fall.

As the fire continues to burn, the world outside fades. It’s just you and Dutch now, a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos. Whatever comes next, you know that, for tonight, you’re not alone. And neither is he.

[amelissaofficinalis]

#14DWY  Amour Sans Fin

#14DWY fanfic 

Amour Sans Fin: Endless Love

<traumatized Angel consulting Ren/[Redacted] about nightmare in the midnight>

Minors PLEASE Don’t Interact

*Headcanon

*Assuming this all happens after engagement

*Angel is gender neutral; mostly use he/him as Ren/[Redacted]’s pronouns

*My first language isn’t English. Excuse me for the unexpected funny confusion <3

Word count: 1000(+-)

----------

I used to toss and turn all night, devoured by fears and helplessness before I found you.

Two broken souls are now nestling together, dragging each other away from the abyss of the past.

We have each other now.

-----------

You were woken up by a slight movement, humming in confusion. Your eyelashes shivered faintly when the one beside you pressed a soft kiss.

“[Redacted]?” You squinted your eyes, and then you realized it’s 3 am. You could barely recognize his face in the darkness, only hearing his faint breath. The one near you remained silent, locking his ocean-blue eye on you.

“Are you alright…?”

“…’m fine.”

His voice was calm and comforting, but you had an instinct that something was off-track about him right now, so you struggled to get up, leaning yourself on him slowly and gently. His rapid heartbeat betrayed him, desperately revealing the truth for you, just for you.

He COULD act perfectly like nothing happened, but he hesitated because of the faint hope you gave to him as you said: “I’d love to know ALL of you, as how you saw me when I cried and grieved.” He knew you’d despise him if he told you, but what if, maybe, you would give him some… pity? This wasn’t enough because he CRAVED love, but he couldn’t dare to expect more if he revealed his past. Probably because of the confidence boosted by the fact that you two were engaged, this stupid idea echoed in his head. It was the first time he couldn’t be prepared before you checked on him.

For a long while, none of you moved an inch. As you heard his heartbeat stabilize, you reached out to hug him, rubbing your face against his collarbone.

“I love you more than anything or anyone else.” You murmured quietly, but you knew he could hear every word from you. “You have me now. All for yourself.”

His eyes widened in disbelief. He had just dreamed he was the helpless kid he abhorred again. He had just woken up in fear as the whole world abandoned him, but right now you just stayed beside him, confessing your love and affection to him. You were lively, warm, and soft.

This is REAL.

“I love you too.” He kind of choked on his words. He couldn’t think of anything else but just repeat this straightforward commitment again and again. Then, he quietly sighed, “I don’t deserve you, Angel.”

Your brow rose in disagreement. The fact that he saw you, the complete and real you, and still chose to love and devote to you for ages was far more than enough for you. He held you and hid you under his wings. If you stared at your photos with him, you would see bright admiration in both his and your eyes, but you knew that you couldn’t convince him with words. Instead, you snuggled with him, holding his hands.

He seemed to relax, and you started to wonder what happened. Your words slipped from your lips before you gave it a second thought. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” He tensed up again and shivered faintly. He suddenly felt he couldn’t hold back anymore, but he just bit his lip and shut his eyes close, not letting sounds escape from his throat. But you still heard those vague groans. He bit it too hard so that his lower lips became pale and might bruise. You couldn’t stand letting him hurt himself, so you caressed his lips, trying to comfort him by patting his back at the same time.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

He caged you by his arms tightly, unconsciously caressed your back when he buried his face into your shoulder.

 “I just couldn’t… I had no choice…I…I never wanted to…” He sobbed while feeling comforted and safe around your aurora.

You couldn’t understand what he was talking about, but you guessed it.

Vaguely, probably about the past. You were as broken as him before you met him. You used to curl up desperately inside the closet, whispering things you didn’t even understand. Your mind fell into a void and your vision blurred. Then he came along. He sat down on the floor, staring at the closed closet as if he could see through the inside.

“Knock, knock.”

His fingers gently knocked on the closet, but he didn’t say anything else, nor did he open the closet. You noticed him, staring back through the tiny gap. For a long while, he just sat there and waited patiently. Finally, you pushed the closet door timidly to test the water. He immediately reached out your hand, fingers intertwined. You couldn’t hold back burst into tears and dive into his hug. You cried out loud like a kid but with relief because you finally found long-lost soul fragments. He kissed your eyelids and told you he loved you and would guard you, again and again, and you almost melted in his embrace. The emptiness within was seamlessly woven whole.

And now you just wanted to cup up his shattered heart as well as he did.

So, before he covered up his indecency with embarrassment, you ran your fingers through his velvety hair with admiration and murmured, “[Redacted], I understand…I love you.” He violently shivered after he processed what you said. You cuddled him until his breath was even. He slowly pulled himself from you, wiping his tears awkwardly and looking deep into your eyes.

“Sometimes I feel we were meant to be for each other.”  He leaned forward to beg a long and soft kiss, caressing your engagement ring.

“Maybe we are.” You chuckled, and patted the bedsheet while lying down, “And I probably need a nice nap with my dearest SOULMATE before waking up for my job. Wanna catch some Z's??”

“’m in.” [Redacted] settled you by his chest and smirked. He fell asleep right after you idly yawned. He hid his most cherished treasure near his heart proudly, smug, probably dreaming about the upcoming wedding.

----------

Random thoughts:

* Kind of inspired by the “DiE4u” from the Spotify playlist of [Redacted].

I really want to share some lyrics:

“'cause I’ve died inside a thousand times               

    But still I’d kill myself for you

‘Cause the truth of it, you could slit my wrists       

And I’d write your name in a heart with the hemorrhage”

This is Ren/[Redacted]…

*Probably would add some suggestive content if I would post this in AO3

*English is devastating. I laughed out loud when I realized I had misspelled Angel to Angle (probably because the math professor brainwashed me with polar coordinate integral this week)

[throneofsapphics]

the moth and the flame part 11: our penance

poly!Nessian x f!Reader

summary: after meeting Nesta in a bookshop, you find the darkest parts of yourselves bonding with each other. Naturally, Cassian finds himself entangled with the two of you.

warnings: angst, drug abuse, references to suicide attempts

a/n: one more chapter after this!

series masterlist

Dreams created a reality so poignant, so desirable, that when you woke the lines between that land and this were blurred so well you had difficulty differentiating. Did they actually come back to say they still wanted you, that this wasn’t over? Or was that some sick sleep induced hallucination? It took a few hours to become clear, but ...

Hallucination was always the answer. Always. 

Deep in your mind, you imagined their forms outside of your window, moths hovering close to your flame, willing to throw themselves into the fire just to feel that sweet heat one last time. It was never truth.

-

Nesta knew it was wrong to hang out here, outside of your apartment, just begging for a glimpse of you; but she knew you left your window blinds wide open and told herself that you did it on purpose, for her. Hoping Nesta or Cassian might come and watch you. Or perhaps in protest because each time Nesta and Cassian had seen you they’d closed the blinds again. 

“Can't have anyone spying on you,” Cassian planted a kiss on your forehead. Nesta laughed as she pushed past him, wrapping you in a tight hug. 

This was heaven, here with you. She’d go to the ends of the earth to protect it. 

But Nesta hadn’t, and you deserved someone who would go that far for you. She couldn't be that person. 

Maybe, however, you both just needed a hint of closure. Something to ease the sting. It had begun the two of you, maybe it needed to end that way. 

She stood from her post on the shadowy bench across the street from your place. A swirling wind shook the leaves from the trees lining the street, raining them down on her like she’d personally angered it. 

Nesta barely made it a step into the sidewalk when a wing snapped in front of her. Not Cassian’s. 

Azriel’s shadows twirled around it as he followed, stepping into its path. 

He didn’t ask where she was going, or what she was planning. Those shadows of his undoubtedly told him everything he needed to know. 

“Move,” she ordered. 

“I’d say you've hurt her enough,” Azriel commented. She heard the sound of a smashing glass. “And he’ll kill me if I let you put yourself in that situation.” 

Another glass smashed. A scream followed. Guttural, raw, and pained. 

Your scream. She pictured your body lying over the bed, wrists bleeding out onto the carpet; her scream as she slid to you and clutched the wounds, praying to the mother and for once cursing she had nothing to give back, cursing the world if she lost you, cursing just to bring some kind of sentiment at the end. 

Arms wrapped around her, tentative, unfamiliar. Wings closed in, bathing her in shadow and darkness. 

“It will be alright,” Azriel murmured the words of comfort as if they were unfamiliar to him. 

Wet drops stained her collar, splashing against her skin and slipping through the small gap. Nesta hadn’t realized she was crying. 

-

Nesta would kill him when she found out, but he had to see you, to see how you were doing. If you were still... Reason said it wasn’t his problem, not anymore, but he still felt like he was abandoning you to the wolves by leaving like that. Only this time, the wolves were your own mind. 

Cassian creaked your door open. Through the main room, your bedroom door was cracked open, just enough for him to see a hand hanging over the edge. 

He blinked, the red clearing from his vision, revealing perfectly unwounded skin. He moved a bit closer, hanging just outside your door, he heard your heartbeat. Strong. Steady. Alive. Perhaps a bit fast, but ... he glanced over his shoulder at the clock. It was unusual for you to sleep around this time, you’d never been much of a napper. 

Not his problem. No, not problem, he lost the right to be concerned two days ago. 

An unusual shape on the kitchen table caught his attention, and Mother curse him he was too fucking nosy to be in here. 

Still, Cassian investigated. 

He flipped the bottle around, freezing as the pills inside made a jingling sound. Several breaths, no movement from the other room. 

Sleeping pills. You’d found someone who would prescribe sleeping pills to you. 

He had half a mind to find that doctor and rip him to pieces. Still, not his right to be concerned anymore. 

Guilt at his actions burrowing deep in his stomach, he left his place exactly as he found it. Enough Azriel might even be proud. 

“I knew you’d do that,” as if his thoughts had summoned the male, he stepped from the shadows. “Rhys asked me to keep both of you away.” It was unlike Azriel to offer up this information, so Cassian kept his mouth shut in hopes of more. “But I would’ve done the same thing.” 

Had Azriel done the same thing in the past? He’d always been so secretive with his lovers ... None of his business. 

Right now, Cassian felt as if he mattered to nothing and no-one. No amount of love had been enough, no amount of desire or care. 

“Let’s go home,” Azriel said, nudging his forward with his wind. 

Some big, tough, brave general he was. Walking away from his ex-girlfriend’s apartment building with his head hanging low. 

-

The Gods must be growing tired of you and your bullshit, let alone the Mother. That was a fact. All you did was run around and make a mess of things. 

You glanced at the bottle of pills sitting on your counter. Hadn’t they been on your kitchen table before? It didn’t really matter, as long as they were still there. If anyone had been in here, they hadn’t cared enough to take them away from you, and since rational was out the window that meant they obviously wanted you to take them, didn’t it?

You wondered what would happen if you dumped the entire bottle down your throat. 

No. 

In your twisted brain, it would mean they won. 

And in your own way, you were ready to bite back. 

-

series taglist: @breadsticks2004 @shamelessdonutkryptonite @rowaelinsdaughter @fightmedraco @acourtofbatboydreams @readinggeeklmao @krowiathemythologynerd @kooterz @anxious-study @lilah-asteria @nestaismommy  @idkmyoldonewasembarassing

general taglist: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze

acotar taglist: @lilah-asteria @yeonalie @I-am-a-lost-girl16 

[slavdollz4mangione]

as one of the big Bambi eyed girls obsessed with Luigi you have no idea how much I wanna give him doe eyes and look up at him and tell him everything is going to be okay and give him a hug

yessss bambi eyed girlies for lu unite !!! <333

the way it wouldn’t be hard to look up at him since he’s so tall in the first place but yes omg :( our boy deserves to be comforted every hour, every minute, every second of every day. there truly isn’t a day that goes by where he’s not in my thoughts, i’m always hoping and praying he’s doing okay, that the letters he’s received so far can give him some kind of comfort and happiness, that he gets to hear from his closest friends and family as much as he can. luigi nicholas mangione deserves the world and more and i’d give it to him in a heartbeat if i could :,)

[ainyan]

A Little Companion (A Kalicred Short)

Title: A Little Companion AU: Woven Souls OC: Kal'istae Miurani NPC: Thancred Waters Timeline: Post-Endwalker, shortly before patch 6.2 Synopsis: Waiting for Kal'istae to return from whatever adventure G'raha Tia had taken her on, Thancred finds himself at loose ends. While sorting through the supplies in his wife's craft room, he takes it upon himself to finish a project he'd been waiting years for. Inspired by this amazing artwork by @lemon-plort

Thancred was at loose ends, and he didn’t much like the feeling. Normally he’d be in Garlemald right now, sticking to the shadows and helping clear out some of the bandits that had begun infesting the place after the fall of the capital, but he’d told Kal’istae he’d remain available. She’d had something she was looking into with G’raha Tia, but once she was done, she intended to take him back to the First.

Back to their daughter.

And wasn’t that still a kick in the ass. He had a daughter. Not an adopted daughter, like Minfilia, like Ryne, but his daughter, born of him and his beloved Kal’istae.

His fingers flexed as he remembered the weight of her in his hands - so tiny, so delicate, so absolutely perfect. She’d looked up at him with eyes already a misty gold, the tiny horn nubs jutting from her temples, the stubby tail swishing against his hands, and she’d wailed her anger at being thrust into the cold world.

He’d held her as they’d stabilized Kal’istae, as they’d cleaned her up, as they’d taken care of all that happened after the miracle. Ryne had come, wrapped her in a blanket, and Gaia had steered him to a chair, gently pressed him down. He’d barely been cognizant of any of it, every ounce of his being focused on that tiny, angry angel in his hands. Later, he’d crept back into the room as Kal’istae and their daughter slept. He’d peered down into the cradle where his daughter - sweet Minyda, named for Minfilia, for Moenbryda - slept, tiny lips pursed and suckling as she dreamed. “Thancred.” Kal’istae’s soft voice, little more than a whisper, had drawn him to her side; nothing but his wife could have torn him away from that sleeping miracle. She’d smiled sleepily up at him. “Look at you. My big, strong husband, so befuddled by a tiny baby.” He’d felt the tips of his ears grow red. “Kali.” Her laugh had been soft and gentle, teasing rather than mocking. “Come here,” she’d coaxed, reaching for him. “There’s enough room in here for both of us.” “I don’t want to hurt you…” She’d tugged again, harder, and he stumbled forward. “I’ll be fine, love, once I’m in your arms.” How was he supposed to resist her? Skirting around to the other side of the bed, he’d climbed in and slid his arms around her, holding her tight. Wrapped around his love, her heartbeat and his mingling in his breast, he’d slept, contentedly exhausted.

Now Kal’istae was absent again, and Minyda back on the First, in the care of her older sisters. He’d wanted to bring her home, but his wife had flat-out refused. “I’d rather leave her with Ryne and Gaia and Lyna than risk her here. They can protect her. Who here could give such a guarantee?”

He couldn’t argue. On the First, no one would dare disturb them. Back on the Source? It was a daily chore to fend off the requests for help - and inevitable that one would come they could not refuse. And who would they trust to protect their daughter - the daughter of the Warrior of Light - against those who might seek to strike against her mother?

But now he was at loose ends. He daren’t head to Garlemald lest he get tangled up in something and not be free for when Kal’istae returned. And though she’d invited him along, he felt Raha had deserved some of her time - especially since he had no idea why she’d been absent for so long.

So here he was in the house they shared, unfettered. Free. Bored.

Aimless, he wandered from room to room, searching for anything to do. He thought to clean, but the house was in fine shape. He thought to read, but found himself too restless to focus on the words. Perhaps a spot of exercise?

He wandered past Kal’istae’s work room, then paused and backtracked, peering in. Rolls of cloth, skeins of thread, yalms and yalms of beads and gems were scattered casually about the small space; the Warrior may keep the rest of the house clean, but her own personal office was always just shy of a disaster zone. She claimed she knew where everything was, and he saw no reason to disbelieve her…

But he had no idea how she could work in there.

Still, he wandered in, catching the scent of her as he crossed the threshold. Lavender and starflowers and just a hint of sage; the scent of his wife’s hair, her skin, her soul. He inhaled deeply as he drifted in a wide circle, studying the stacked shelves, the overflowing tables.

A bolt of cloth caught his eye; indigo plush wool. Frowning thoughtfully, he stole closer and fingered it. Nearby, he could see purple silks, gold chains, dripping crystals. There was silver thread and a box of glass eyes, two of which he noted had lavender rings.

Had she been preparing to finally fulfill his wish?

He ran his eyes over the worktable and caught sight of some half-hidden papers. Pulling them free, he opened them up, spreading them out across the laden table. As he thought, it was the pieces of a pattern, a pattern for a particular plush doll. He could recognize his wife’s work anywhere, and realized, with a lifting of his spirits, that she had indeed drawn up plans for a Kali doll, just as he’d been asking her to for years.

But when would she have time to finish it?

He studied the plans, noting how neatly she’d written all of the measurements. Using this pattern and the attached itemization, he realized he could probably make the plush. It wouldn’t be as professional as the ones Kali made - but it felt… right… that he should be the one to make the plush of her, just as she’d made the plush of him that was currently sitting on their bed.

But there was no way he could work in this chaos. With a quiet apology to his wife that he had no doubt she heard across their shared soulbond, he set to cleaning up her office.

------------------

Once everything was straightened and put away, Thancred selected the materials he needed and set them upon the now-empty worktable. First, a proper length of indigo plush, soft and elastic and strong - just like the woman who had purchased it. He thought of all of the times he’d sat here, watching her work.

First, he used a tracing wheel to carefully outline each of the pattern pieces, pricking tiny holes into the thin, crackling paper. Not every piece, yet - the horns, the tail, the scales, all of these would be done in an obsidian-shaded suede, and that he would save until later - but the body, the head, these would be done in that rich indigo plush.

Once he had traced the patterns with the tracing wheel, he laid them upon the plush, then went over them with a bag of loose chalk, gently tapping it along the pricked lines. This would, he knew, outline the pattern upon the cloth, making it easier for him to cut and stitch it. He could have, of course, used the pattern directly, but he didn’t want to waste his wife’s hard work - and if he messed up, she would be able to fix it.

Once the pieces were traced and cut out, he arrayed them on the workbench. Closing his eyes, he thought back to the countless nights he’d sat in here, perched upon the chair she’d placed for him, reading a book, studying reports, and simply basking in the calm and quiet of being together with Kal’istae. He focused upon those memories of her hands, remembering the steps she’d taken, the moves she’d made.

His own hands began to move, cutting, basting, stitching. Slowly, the doll began to come to life beneath his clever fingers, a plump mannequin of indigo plush, obsidian suede, and silver thread. The hardest part, he found, was stitching the star-like freckles that covered his lover’s body. He knew exactly where each one was; the gods knew he’d spent enough time tracing constellations among them to be able to map them true to life.

But stitching stars in silver thread was harder than he’d expected, and by the time he was done, his fingers ached from the tiny pinpricks he’d endured from the needle. But she was sewn up tight, all but the hole through which he’d feed the stuffing. He took hold of the fluffy cotton batting Kal’istae used on her specialty plushes and began to feed it into the dall, watching it plump up. Kali’s tiny hand could easily fit inside, allowing her to place the cotton precisely; Thancred had to depend on a rod with a comb-like head to do the job.

Soon, he had himself a plump - and naked - doll. Turning it over in his hands, he studied the glitter of the stitched silver stars, the lay of the suede scales, the midnight-blue hair he’d painstakingly threaded into the doll’s head, then braided together. Sure, the stitches were somewhat crooked and there were a few places where the seams didn’t quite match up - but it wouldn’t look terribly out of place among Kal’istae’s more professional creations.

At least, he didn’t think so.

All that was left was to find clothes for it. He couldn’t hope to mimic any of Kal’istae’s intricate outfits; silk and leather and lace, all draping and flowing and elegant. In the end, he took some lavender cotton cloth, some denim, and an applique star and made a simplistic approximation of one of her casual outfits. He dressed her, then set her upon the bench to give her one last examination.

And cursed. One of her eyes was missing.

He searched the bench, scooping up piles of scraps and remnants to see if perhaps it had rolled under them. He got down on his hands and knees, crawling upon the floor to see if he could catch a glint of it. Coming up empty handed, he instead dove into the eye box to find another eye with a lavender limbal ring.

And there were none to be found.

Maybe he could make her an eyepatch, like the cloth he wore once upon a time? But she had never, to his knowledge, worn one.

Damn it! Where was that eye?

In the end, he dithered over which eye could replace it - though none of them had the signature lavender limbal ring that Kal’istae sported. He almost chose a plain blue eye when a box of buttons caught his eye.

Maybe…

------------------

“Thancred.” Despite the exhaustion he could feel from her, Kal’istae’s voice was laced with laughter. “I know you’re eager, but I just want to bathe and change and eat something right now. Let me get some of my energy back before you start trying to trip me into bed.”

His hands were everywhere, and her clothing didn’t stand a chance. By the time he’d backed her into their bedroom, her gear was littering the floor, and his own had mostly followed. “It doesn’t have to be bed. We’ve proven over and over that the bath is more than big enough for the both of us.”

Her tired laughter rang again and she squirmed out of his grasp, grabbing at the post of the bed to spin herself out of his reach. “You may join me,” she allowed, “but I want to get clean before you go to the trouble of getting me all dirty again.”

He reached for her eagerly, then skittered to a halt when she suddenly gasped. “What? What is it! Are you hurt, Kali?”

Her lavender-edged eyes were round as she skirted around the side of the bed and reached out, picking up the plush he’d laid on his pillow. “Where did you get this?” she demanded. “Thancred, I told you I’d make one eventually…”

“I made it,” he said quietly, and stopped her cold.

Blinking, the plush in her hands, she peered up at him. “You? You made it?”

Scowling, he tried to shove his hands in his pockets, only to remember that his pants, like the rest of his clothing, were strewn across the living room. “Yes. I saw the plans in your office and I thought maybe, since you’d written them out so well, I could do it for you. As a… surprise. After all,” he quipped weakly, trying to recover the mood, “why should both of us be lonely?”

Lips shut tight, Kal’istae turned her attention to the plush in her hands, turning it over and over, studying it carefully. “You did an amazing job,” she said finally, and he could feel nothing but surprised pleasure from her no matter how deep he delved into her heart. “Thancred, I’m genuinely impressed. You never expressed any interest in learning a craft before this.”

“Only that once,” he told her. “My fingertips still ache.”

Kal’istae smiled at him over the top of the doll’s head, then reached out and rubbed her finger over the button eye he’d sewn on. “I thought I had two lavender eyes.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “You… did.”

“Ah.” Gently, she laid it upon the bed, then tugged her Thancred plush over until they were cuddled together. “Come here, my love,” she murmured, holding her arms out to him. Nothing loath, he reached for her, drawing her into his embrace, and walked her backwards towards the bath. She allowed him to lift her up and set her gently in the water, then reached out to him again as he sank in beside her. “I missed you, my own,” she murmured.

“And I you, Bright Eyes,” he replied, bending his head to kiss her.

On the bed, the plushies embraced, oblivious to the goings on in the bath, together.

[synthetickitsune]

hello I’d like to request soohyuk and angst prompt #22 (hint hint break up?? joking, only if u want to) the fluff and the (m) for his works are lovely but i thrive off angst so 😈

you and me both anon ♡

Lee Soohyuk | Words left unsaid angst | 0.7k | gn!reader

It’s here again.

He closes his mouth upon realizing that the words he wishes to say would only reach his own ears. So instead he ups the volume of the music and focuses fully on the road. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. It’s hard not to get annoyed with himself, but that’s life. He should’ve told you when he had a chance.

Admittedly, this was a mess Soohyuk got himself into. He’s the one avoiding you, stubbornly, despite the fact he’s perfectly aware of his childish behavior. Nothing really stops him from calling you right now and telling you what’s at the tip of his tongue. Then again it still is tender, a healing wound that aches when the weather changes. And it hurts to know you’ll get it and, perhaps, be there when he’s ready and act like he never ignored you.

He hopes he can get over it one day. You deserve better - you’re more than just a past tense in his life. He wants you to be.

And there he goes again - another thing enters his mind, something you asked him a long time ago but that he didn’t have an answer to then. 

It used to happen a lot in those days. You'd ask him something and Soohyuk would be caught off guard or he would have no idea about the answer, no opinion on the matter. (You always introduced him to new things, something he never paid attention to before. He misses that.) Or he'd want to tell you a story, only to be interrupted by a phone call, or his manager walking into the room. 

There are many promises he broke, but the ones haunting him still are all the stories he promised to tell you later. It's unimportant in the grand scheme of things, and he wonders if his refusal to interact with you right now has anything to do with his friends laughing at him when he drunkenly rambled on about this exact topic. But to be honest, it matters to him. It's rare to have someone's undivided attention all to yourself, to have someone actually listen and care, and you were that rare person.

He worries that all that he is is just that - selfish and lonely. Greedy for someone’s attention, your attention, that would never stray away. It felt safe talking to you, being with you. Without judgment, without pressure. You still are his best friend, so why is he like this?

His jaw clenches painfully and unclenches. He’s not ready to talk to you, but maybe a text? Would it be too strange to shoot you a random message out of nowhere? You used to do that all the time, albeit in the past that’s at the same time fresh and yet it feels like years ago.

Soohyuk keeps pondering over it the entire day until tomorrow is only minutes away. Cocooned in his bed, he’s hiding away from the world, from life, as if it could make the seconds stop ticking by. He’s staring at his phone screen, your chat window opened. Would it be pathetic to text you? He isn’t sure about the rules, about what’s appropriate. You used to do it so naturally, but that was back then…

He tries giving himself pep talk, tries to manipulate himself into thinking this is the exact opposite of pathetic because talking to you like nothing happened would make it seem like he’s over you already, right? He tries logic - it would make him feel better to talk to you. Hell, he even texts a friend to get a second opinion. If only he would respond…

He tosses and turns without any rest for his eyes, his mind, or his heart. He wants to talk to you. But he doesn’t want to be the one doing it. If there was a way he could turn the conversations with you that he has in his head into reality, a memory that he could enjoy, he would take it in a heartbeat. 

Finally he closes his eyes. He can’t do it after all. Blindly he locks his phone and puts it away on the nightstand. He sighs, and the sound resonates in the empty bedroom. You always used to hug him from behind and just hold him wherever he did that. No matter if there was something on his mind or not, you always cared. He misses that.

Was what you had really that bad?

He knows now is not a good time to think about it. But Soohyuk allows himself tonight to wallow in his loneliness and memories of you anyway.

[bluehoodiewoozi]

YOON JEONGHAN + “Can’t you feel the sparks?”

wc: 437 /// genre: royal au. /// warnings: none.

Every inch, ounce and bit of sound reason was screaming at you. It demanded you to stop, to push him away, to come back to your sense and accept that you weren’t his to keep. It yelled. Coursed in your veins. Echoed in your ears.

Your heartbeat drowned it all out before you could second-guess. 

Your lips remained on his as he held you to his chest, arms keeping you in his embrace like an exquisite iron cage. The freezing stone walls of the castle, hiding you from the view of any passersby, barely felt cold against your back.

In a perfect world, your sound of reason would win out. You’d push him away in an act of loyalty towards the kingdom. He was but a mere knight, one of many. In a perfect world, you’d never give him a chance.

No. Your heart screamed at the thought and you found yourself pushing closer to him instead. 

In a perfect world, he’d be yours already. You wouldn’t have to hide behind walls and curtains and sundowns and shadows. You’d give in to your desires without hesitation, holding him closer until there was no space left between you. In a perfect world, he’d be your prince like he deserved to be.

But this world was far from perfect. Your heart crumbled into pieces when he pulled away from your lips and glanced around in a display of paranoia. Suddenly, you were reminded that someone could be watching. There were many curious eyes in the castle, after all, and not all of them were benevolent.

“We can’t keep doing this,” you whispered, broken beyond imagination as you admired him for what you considered the last time.

But Jeonghan was immune to your doubts and worries. He smiled at you, arms still holding you close, before replying, “You always say that, but you never act on it.”

“It’s wrong.”

“Can’t you feel the sparks?” You could. You could see them, too: dancing in his eyes as he looked at you just as fondly as you did at him. “How can it be wrong? I don’t believe it.”

“You don’t believe in many things, Yoon Jeonghan, but that doesn’t make them any less true.” 

He sighed, pressed his forehead against yours. “I’d do anything to make this true.” His smile seemed sadder than usual. “I’d do anything to make you stay.”

As a single ray of moonlight hit his eye, making him even more breathtaking than usual, you granted him his wish. Your lips landed on his once again. This time, the screaming and the coursing and the echoes weren’t there.

[tumfullofblue]

Distraction (Kevin Flynn x Fem!Reader) (NSFT)

I'm sending this little filth away with no plan and no hope for likes, but you must understand - I REALLY wanna fuck an old man, alright? Alright. I'm doing this for meself.

NSFT under the cut <33

You were standing at the balcony, watching the city’s lights pulse through the large clear window with every heartbeat of the system. It was so far away, and yet the neon was coloring the digital sky and your skin in blue-ish tones. Your fingers curled on railing and you took a shuddering breath of the air that wasn’t even there. The Grid was awfully loud. Who knew that lines of code and programs and what not could create so much noise? But here, in Flynn’s hideout, the noise was muffled, reduced to a background hum, almost comforting in a way. But it was always there, in the back of your head, reminding you that there was no place for the likes of you here.

You heard soft footsteps behind you and Flynn’s warm hand squeezed your shoulder, tense to the point of being painful. You wanted to go home so bad; you were a human, a ‘user’ C.L.U hissed the second you escaped his grasp. You didn’t belong here… but neither did Kevin Flynn. Yet he looked almost serene in the habitat that he build for his solitude. Though you knew better - under the calm look of an old and wise master, the real Flynn was hiding – one who broke codes and rules, one who was bold enough to get himself uploaded to Grid… Yet, here he was, stuck long before you arrived. You’d think the Grid would be kind enough to keep him young, but he grew older, just like any human being.

Not that it was a big concern for you.

“You’re thinkin’ too loud,” Flynn still got that lazy drawl from his youth in his voice, placing another hand on your shoulder, massaging the stress away. “I could hear you over the next room. What’s troubling that pretty head of yours?”

Could you tell him? Could you bother him again and again that you were scared and lonely and useless? He was the master at programming, he knew how Grid worked and you were just… there. A missing line, a dead bit. Something that he would be wise to get rid off, not keep you close and safe. So you kept breathing heavily, silent in your sorrow.

“I see,” he huffed like he read your thoughts, the warm breath hitting your neck, reminding you of how very human he was; his hands slide down yours, before letting go and grabbing your waist instead, cupping the softness of your stomach. Suddenly, you remembered the first time you tried ‘food’ in Grid – the programmed code, it was artificial, but you swore the taste was even better than any delicacy you could imagine and somehow, every bite left your hunger satisfied. And yet, right now, there was another hunger rising in you – one that no code could satisfy.

“Alright. Here’s what we gonna do, sweetheart. You’re gonna let me take real good care of you; take all those bad thoughts out, out and away. Give your mind a nice… cleanup.”

His touch was deliberate, unhurried—like he had all the time in the world to unravel you. Your fingers relaxed on the railing, not quite letting go. And then, you felt it – that delicious scratch of his beard as he tilted his head to kiss a sweet little spot behind your ear, trailing a way down to the nape of your neck. You gasped, softly. Was he going to do it to you… here?

“Yes, here…” Flynn once again proved that he knew you better than you knew yourself. You were an opened book to him – or rather, bright lines of code on a dark screen. “Don’t worry. It’s just us here. Unless… you’d like to be watched?”

You shivered and chuckled, nervously. “No. I’d rather not. I… I like it that it’s just us here. And... that you are not alone anymore.” You placed a hand over his, allowing yourself to relax, leaning back.

“No. No, I’m not alone. You came to me, my angel from real world. If only… if only your descent didn’t trap you in the Grid. You deserve more than… than…”

“Flynn…”

“Please. You know what I’m talkin’ about. You shouldn’t had to look for me, this isn’t your fight. Hell, look at me. Here goes an old man ramblin’ again...”

You turned in his arms then, meeting his gaze. Age hadn’t dulled the mischief in his eyes—if anything, it had sharpened it, honed by years of quiet rebellion against the Grid’s rigid order and CLU. His thumb brushed your lower lip, feather-light.

“You’re not rambling. You-”

Flynn pushed – his mouth claiming yours in a deep, filthy kiss that sent sparks skittering down your nerves, effectively shutting you up, preventing you from pitying him. You gasped, softly, sweetly, innocent-like and the old man took advantage, tongue pushing inside and sliding against yours painfully slow, like he was mapping your mouth. Your fingers twisted in the softest fabric of his suit and his fingers squeezed your waist more, afraid, always afraid that you were going to dissapear.

“On the other hand, my little hellcat,” he rasped, pulling away from you and cupping your cheeks. “I want you to relax fully. I can always fuck you here in the open some other time. This hour… it will be about you. Let me prove it to you.”

And oh did he wanted to prove it to you.

You barely made it to bed when he dimmed his lights with some flick of a wrist and the whole time he was kissing you, undressing you. Even though Flynn loved to see your body in all of it’s soft, human glory, he knew you were a bit self-conscious about it and kept the lights low and warm around you two. Your back hit the bed and just as quickly as compiling a stubborn code, Flynn moved himself to be between your legs. It was intoxicating how much you loved being under his control, his care, cause he was older, he knew better…

“Flynn… G-ghh…” you back immediately arched, because Kevin Flynn didn’t waste no time in delving into your sweet wetness, switching between fast laps and long sucking of your clit. “Kevin,” he corrected, voice rough and dominating, palms smoothing hr thighs. “When I’m fucking you with my tongue, you’d better be screamin’ the right name.”

The Grid, the fear, the everything dissolved into pure sensation. Flynn licked into you like he was drinking from a holy grail, all reverence and filthy skill (where did he learned to do that?). You cried out, fingers knotting in his soft white hair, but he only groaned against your slit, encouraging you, his grip on your plush hips tight enough to bruise as he worked you towards the edge.

“That’s it, hun. That’s my girl, c’mon,” he pushed two fingers at the same time into you, bending just so, scraping the sensitive spongy spot inside your pulsating walls. You whimpered, the coil tight and hot in your gut. Maybe you swore. Maybe you prayed.

“Look at me, pretty girl. There it is. I want you to look at me when you cum.”

“Kevin!..”

His name tore from your lips like another prayer or a curse – as you came and Flynn didn’t let up, didn’t caught you until you were all heavy gasps and trembling and oversensitive, until the neon sky outside the window blurred into streaks of light.

When he finally rose, he licked his lips, smug as a march cat with cream. And your, poor, fucked out thing could only stare and breath, dazed, as he hauled you against him, his hardness pressing insistently against your bruised hip.

“Another line, sweetheart. I’m not finished until you are so fucked out, you can’t remember your own name. And then… I’ll remind you. I’ll remind you that you belong with me, Grid or not.”

Your head fell back and after a few minutes, you were already singing more for him, because you believed him and because Kevin fucking Flynn was really good at distraction.

[melishade]

amazing chapter!!! Firstly enjoy the bit with Primus giving there weapon and them freaking out, I’m glad that Primus help them made peace, wish there was a bit with Lara. Love how Primus is still keep the level of disdain with Eren, also thank you!! With the trio’s discussion, like damn Eren is his worst enemy. Glad that Mikasa and armin came to terms and stopped defending him, also f*ck, he loved her but want freedom more (imagine what happened if they know what he did to his mother😬)

I’d figure that founder yimr and Mikasa will be in the touched. And armin discussion with Primus jeez the brass on this kid. Interesting that Primus showed armin the other and original timeline. ( I figured he would have a mental breakdown on predetermined fate)

liked pieck’s moment, the emotional goodbye. Returning to the living world the burning of the scarf was good. Finally the segment with Optimus and Megatron short but gut wrenching. Ratchet and bulk only saw prime scream in frustration but this… nah. Over all this chapter gave what wanted and what I did think I want 😁

Firstly, thank you so much for the praise. Secondly, let's go in depth.

I do wish that I could have talked more about Lara, re-introduce other characters and have more emotional reunions, but it just would have derailed the whole chapter and it would have taken so much longer. I can't bring everyone back. I did figure Hanji asking Primus to

I'll probably have Primus talking to other people in prompts asks or a mini anthology. I'm not sure yet. We'll see what happens.

And yes, Primus still hates Eren's guts because Primus gave Eren and option and Eren chose genocide. He's not going to forgive that. Despite the fact that he refers to Unicron as brother and feels lament over their degraded relationship, Primus acknowledged he was committing genocide and took action. There's no exception with Eren. And yes, Eren is a slave to freedom and it ends up destroying him and the relationships that he had!

But in regards to Eren taking out his own mom in the manga and anime, it just felt like both a plot hole and one final twist that Isayama was trying to make and we only had one hint towards Eren's interference, but that could easily be chalked up to Dina's titan being an abnormal. Carla's death is strictly happenstance in AOP.

Mikasa and Ymir's connection in AOT was...weird. Because many of us were led to believe that Ymir was waiting for Eren to release her from the power of the titans, but it turned out she was waiting for Mikasa to release her because she saw how Mikasa was able to let go of Eren, allowing Ymir to let go of Fritz because she was in love with him and served him because she loved him. The analysis and criticism has already been done, but it definitely felt rushed and out of nowhere for me. I do have Ymir look at Mikasa letting Eren go, implying Ymir's feelings towards Fritz, but just didn't outright say it.

And Armin and Primus' conversation, oh boy! That's a can of worms there! The conversation was going to go very differently, but as I was writing this chapter, I got creative and I thought that Armin, dealing with both Optimus and Megatron, and the loss of Eren, while also learning that Primus had a hand in the Rumbling happening, deserved to know what Primus saw. There were also a lot of people in the comments calling out Primus and calling him hypocritical for letting genocide happen. So I have to explain that things are not that simple. Primus doesn't want to impose control and take away freewill to obtain peace. Even if he did do that, he would only be able to affect the Eldian people, not everyone else. He can't change the minds of the Marleyans. Additionally, altering the fabric of time puts the whole universe at risk and he can't do that. If Primus had the opportunity to make the Peaceful Timeline a reality, he would do it in a heartbeat. Also additionally, Primus showed Armin glimpses of these alternate timelines, not the whole thing.

But the reason why Armin didn't break when shown alternate timelines was simply how he reacted in the anime. When Eren told Armin the truth, Armin was understandably angry at Eren, and as he wept, he still clung onto the idea of hope. That hope does exist and it could be used to change the heart and minds of the people into creating a peaceful world. And the fact that Primus with his all seeing power still can't find another solution to the madness he claims he wants to stop? What does that make him? Also, Armin has been dealing with Megatron's bullshit for four years along with immense amounts of trauma. He's not about to buckle to god when he's been through hell.

Also, Pieck deserved an explanation for everything Primus unintentionally put her through. And Primus of course has to make a grand gesture when ending the power of the titans. And in regards to the end, if you haven't seen this ask telling you to listen to the song while reading the ending, I recommend that you do.

[chicknstripz]

∘₊✧ [[ Sun, Surf & Sand ]] ✧₊∘

Pairing ||  Fives x GN!Reader Word count || 987 Warnings || Brief mentions of PTSD, Fluff, So much fluff. Overview || Self indulgent Fives takes his family to the beach feels, in honour of father's day! 'Fives' prompt for @clonexreaderbingo

Crashing waves and salty air backdrop your perfect day, the shriek of your little one pulling your attention from your trashy romance novel.

Fives has your toddler by the hand, standing at the water's edge with not a care in the world. He looks so good like this, his tanned skin glowing in the light as he lifts the toddler over another wave. The small girl yells in delight as the water tickles her toes, her interaction with the water managed with care by her doting father. 

Fives doesn't want her to fear water like he does, the endless blue stirring memories of Kamino. He remembers being tossed out to sea, his survival skills tested in a brutal five day training session. He also remembers time spent below the waves, his flash training ill preparing him for deep sea diving. None of it had been enjoyable, the company of his own heartbeat prevailing over every memory, and none of it could hold a candle to the beach he stood upon. Cold unfeeling water had been swapped for warm waves, and complaining brothers had been swapped for a happy family. His little Sarad was smiling at him like he'd hung the stars, all chubby checks and sparkling eyes. And you? He's pretty sure you've never looked prettier. you're laid on a towel with a drink in one hand, and a book in the other - your eyes soft as they catch his. He stops to appreciate the sight for a moment, just long enough for a ware to crest over Sarad's waist. She squeals in surprise and holds tight to him, her little arms barely covering his chest.

"Woah, you alright there lil one?"

She nods, her curls tickling his jaw with each move.

"You sure? We can say hello to your Buir for a bit if you want. Maybe build a sandcastle?” 

She nods again and Fives takes this as a sign she’s done with the water, at least for now. He drops her to her feet once the water laps at his ankles, watching with a smile as she totters up the beach with giggles. He’s not at all surprised to see you’ve pulled out a holorecorder, your form dropped to one knee to get Sarad’s best angle; and he can’t help but tease you as you lift the cam to include him in the shot. 

“Why cyare, I’d never thought you’d ask! Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!”

He watches you roll your eyes, your expression giving away the flush of heat that rises to your cheeks.

“We’re already married, di’kut” “And what if I wanted to marry you again?” He’d marry you a billion times if he could, on as many planets as you wanted. All he wanted was for you to feel loved and appreciated, to know that you’d been and always would be the center of his galaxy. 

“I don’t think it’s entirely necessary ...” “Oh, but it is!” He beams as he cuts you off, happy to watch the effect his words have on you. The subtle shift of weight from side to side, the shift of your brows and lips; it all tells him he’d made you feel warm and happy. “But what about the cost?” “What about it?” “We can’t afford it, not on that ‘pension’ they gave you” Fives scoffs. The republic had decided some years back that his service deserved a soldier’s pension. It was, in his opinion, nothing more than a publicity stunt. The sum was barely enough to repay his vode for years of pain and loss, but it was also better than nothing - which was what they were due to get before Senator Chuchi stepped in. “My brothers will help.” “Fives, I don’t want them paying for something we don’t need.” He drops beside you with a chuckle, gathering Sarad into his arms and settling her atop his crossed legs. The blanket more than protected her from the warm sand, but he was feeling indulgent and protective today; her happy giggles encouraged his internal desire to dote on her. “I didn’t mean it like that. Kix got himself ordained. All we have to do is give him a time and date.” Your eyes widen in shock, then laughter; the expression warming your face as you retrieve a bottle of sun lotion from your bag. “Did he know? Why does that not surprise me.” Fives laughs alongside you, passing a small toy to Sarad to keep her occupied while you cover her skin in a protective layer of lotion. “He said, and I quote. ‘I’m not letting any of you di’kute ruin your cyare’s special day’. Anyone would think we can’t do serious” Your soft laughter turns to guffaws, the sound violent enough to make you snort. He’s not sure why you find it so embarrassing. He loves it when he can elicit this kind of laughter, your form near hunched over as you nurse aching ribs. “I can’t see why he’d think such a thing, I really can’t.” You spend the next few moments in laughter, settling Sarad between you to play with her toys. She’s still too young to understand the concept of making a sandcastle. For her the fun is in the filling of the bucket, and the demolishing of the castle. She doesn’t even wait for her father to say ‘ta-da!’. She’s already pushed her hands into the damp sand with a giggle, pushing the sand about to further explore its texture. “So, you in? Or ...” You lift your head with a shy smile, your eyes full of warm love as you sit on your haunches. “Only on one condition.” “Oh? And what might that be?” “That Echo and Sarad have to be our flower girls” He can't help but mirror your playful smile, his chest blooming with laughter as he reaches over to shake your hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal, cyar'ika.”

[mirrortouchedsea]

ES Rarepair Week Day 4: Angst

This one is kind offffff a continuation of this fic that i've been meaning to get back to. There's scenes between that one and this one that I want to write eventually but just know that they're connected. CW for character death and Mikejima typical family issues

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Shu hadn’t been in this hospital room in almost three years. The last time, Maguro seemed to be on the up and up, but he couldn’t help but feel that there was something he was missing. Maguro, the girl he had been watching over, was fine, her illness was no longer getting the best of her and she had stopped being able to see Shu at their last meeting. Her brother on the other hand, that pesky Madara Mikejima, had stopped coming to the hospital room as well, though Shu had sensed him in the hallway on more than one occasion. 

Shu had come to check on Maguro, who was now 16 years old, only to find her brother in the hospital room once again. He looked all the worse for wear, kneeling on the floor next to her bed, cheeks sunken, clothes sagging on his body that was severely underweight. Mikejima, Shu spoke up, what are you doing? Isn’t it obvious, Madara replied, barely shifting his head to look at Shu, I’ve been doing this for her. What do you mean ‘this’. I… Oh. 

Oh. Shu was hit with the realization. You’ve been giving away your life force, but why. I couldn’t let my sister die like that, alone, in the hospital without anyone to look after her, isn’t that what big brothers are supposed to do? You might be the only big brother to give up your life force itself for your sister, aren’t you worried about what will happen to her when you’re gone? Yeah, it gave me nightmares as a kid but this is for the best, and since God isn’t real, someone has to protect her. Does your family know? I haven’t spoken to them in months, not since, well, I’m sure you’ll hear soon enough. 

Shu could see that Madara’s life was fading rapidly and he’d be dead before long, and Shu would have to usher him to the afterlife. Are you scared of dying? I accepted long ago that I’d die young. That’s not what I asked, I want to know if you’re scared of dying. Madara turned away, his hands covered Maguro’s and squeezed them gently, or maybe it was simply due to how far along he was that he couldn’t squeeze any harder. I don’t want her to see me like this, can we do this somewhere else? You won’t make it out of the hospital in that state. That’s alright, as long as Maguro-chan isn’t the one to find me. Fine, I can at least grant you that. 

The two of them exited the room and Madara immediately collapsed, the door barely closed behind him. Shu-san, it’s been a while since we’ve talked like this huh. What’s got you acting so sentimental? You act like the dying aren’t the most sentimental people alive. Well, you would be right that we haven’t talked since you were what, sixteen yourself? That was when I discovered I could transfer my life to Maguro-chan and I… I was scared of losing her, the world can live without someone like me but she deserves the world. What makes you say that? Shu could sense Madara’s soul was preparing to leave his body, but he kept the conversation going. I’ve done horrible, horrible things, things you only associate with the dregs of society, all for her, and I’d do it again, that’s the thing isn’t it, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant that she’d be okay. Madara’s body shuddered. I’m ready, Shu-san, whenever you want to take me, just make it painless. 

Shu couldn’t control when Madara died, but he could pretend, hold his hand and coax him into that deep slumber until his soul separated from his body. The hospital staff were busy in other wings but his body would be found by the morning. As much as Madara had gotten on his nerves, Shu couldn’t just leave him to die completely alone and have a stranger usher him to the afterlife, not when Shu was right there. When Madara’s soul finally separated from his body, Shu pulled him to his feet. You’ve died, alone, in the hallway of a hospital. I know. Were you satisfied with the life you’ve led? Yes.