#even if you typically are overwhelmed with gratitude at any kindness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

witchthewriter · 6 months

Text

𝑺𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒇𝒐𝒓 @chickvicks.

I just want to quickly add some words of gratitude. You've been so lovely to interact with, and it genuinely boosts my self-esteem and want for writing. You also said that you like to write and if you ever post it, I would love to read it! Thank you for being so kind and gentle xx

𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝑰 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝑷𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓! He understands the importance of kindness and how it can affect another person entirely. He grew up under the staircase, barely any room for himself to grow, to be his own person. After the events of Voldemort, Harry found himself a little lost. There was no all-consuming evil to vanquish, and that's when he met you. Or rather, his attention moved to you - since you had been going to the same school together all these years.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

You wouldn't think coming from the same Hogwarts House would mean much but GOD IT DOES. Randomly reminiscing about the common room, Fred and George's pranks, how warm it always felt; even on the coldest nights

You had known of THE Harry Potter ever since your first year. Always aquaintances but never more.

With the war over, and Harry free to make his own choices, his world becme a lot bigger.

When your sitting on the couch together, Harry loves stroking your hair, your cheek, your forehead.

Gave you the most beautiful piece of jewellery for your first year anniversary and you wear it everyday

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Edith's Theme by Fernando Velazquez

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Constant Banter

Acts Then Thinks (Harry) x Thinks Before They Act (You)

Home Is Wherever You Are

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Both Wary of Love & Don’t Think This Can Be Real

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

The way you think of how other's might feel in certain situations. You make people feel at ease - mamy have said they feel like they've returned home whenever they see your smiling face. To Harry, you're a solice. You give him so much more than peace. You make up for the horrible childhood he had. (Literally the Dursley's were the worst??)

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Ginny Weasley and Hermione Granger - you three are a force to be reckoned with. Hermione is the brains, Ginny is the hands and you're the heart. Your friendship will go on for years to come. (And no Ginny isn't upset that you and Harry got together, I have this headcanon that she's pansexual and ends up with Luna!)

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆

A mixture of Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom. I think your kindness is your most prominent attribute that people remember you by. It isn't negative in any way at all. They just see you as the kind Gryffindor girl!

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕

Unlike many of the felines at Hogwarts, your pet couldn't care less about being outside and exploring. Curiosity was not for this kitty. He loves sleeping, or pretending to sleep just so you can play with his paws or rub his nose.

𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐒

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝑰 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑫𝒂𝒏𝒂𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒔 𝑻𝒂𝒓𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒆𝒏! She has so much heart - and loves very deeply. There isn't a time when her emotions don't overwhelm her. She has so much patience with you; because she knows that you respect her and of course she respects you. I just think you two would be such a power couple!

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Dany hates being away from you, so typically wherever she goes so do you. However, if there is any chance of danger, she will not allow you to go (well, that's before you bond with your dragon...)

You wear matching braclets, they're both made of gold with Old Valyria inscribed on them. They say, "neverending," (meaning your love is neverending; even after death)

You're the only person to truly see Dany open up and laugh. Yes, she does smile in public, but no one else has seen her goofy side like you have

When you bonded with one of her dragons, she was shocked. This was before you had gotten together, and a part of her didn't want one of her children to bond with anyone else. But you didn't fly away with your dragon. You wanted to stay with Dany - with THE Mother of Dragons

She loves gifting you flowers, and loves it when you wear one behind your ear. It makes her feel giddy inside

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Sirens by Ludwig Gorransson

(I feel like this needs a bit of an explanation. So the relationship between you and Dany is passionate, it's instinctual and she would do anything for you. This song implants this image of you and Dany atop your mounts, flying towards an enemy, whose waiting to negotiate)

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

The Moon & Her Star

Keeps strong eye-contact (Dany) x Literally can't look in their eyes (You)

Tragic Past x Ray of Light

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Damsel in Distress

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

She actually really likes your stubborness. Everyone else in her life seems to gently tell her what she should and shouldn't do. While you will outright tell her with your full chest. It's never without kindness, but you tell her what she needs to hear and she really admires that about you

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Even though it doesn't fit with the storyline, I think your best friend would be Sansa or Margaery. Your loyalty would mean so much to them, especially Sansa, who grew up not knowing who to trust.

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆

A mix between Missandei and Margaery. I think yes, you have a quiet side, but you have the ability to sway others with your kindness and your attitude. It's your power!

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕

The one, the only and the motherfricken beautiful - 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐍! The youngest of Dany's three dragons, Viserion is the least grouchy and prefers to snuggle and fly than to fight.

Whether you're a distant Targaryen, Velaryon or a Dragonseed, it doesn't matter - you're a dragonrider through and through. And Dany absolutely loves it.

There's no one else who would bond with Viserion like you would.

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 & 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐄

𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝑰 𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑱𝒆𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒂𝒉𝒆𝒚! It may be surprising to get this as a ship, but trust me, hear me out - okay? This is a bit of an opposites attract type of relationship. You have a similar personality/aura to Wylan.

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔

Loves spending all day in bed with you, arms wrapped tightly around you so you cannot move.

Calls you, "love," "sweetheart," "sugarlips," - just really silly but endearing pet names.

Hesitant to show you his life at the Crow Club. He didn't want you to think he was a dangerous person - someone you needed to be wary of. (But you never thought that for a second...he'd already told you about how much he misses his fricken goat).

LOVES wearing matching outfits - or matching something. He also likes it when you wear his clothes, it makes him feel primal. And he doesn't normally feel that masculine feeling

You're the only one who can stop him from doing ridiculous crap. You're his voice of reason, and the only one he truly listens to

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Violino by Piero Piccioni

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Oblivious (Jesper) x Constantly admiring them (You)

You Fell First, But They Fall Harder

Tol x Smol

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Opposites Attract

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒗𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖

How you allow space for Jesper to talk about his true feelings. He doesn't feel the need to constantly hide behind humour instead of facing how he feels. You help him to figure out what's going on, on the inside.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

Inej! I think you two would have such a close friendship. You would have so many sleepovers, that started off with you being scared to sleep in your own room at the clubhouse (or wherever the crows stay). From there your friendship just bloomed. It felt like you knew each other for years.

𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆

A mixture of Wylan and Nina - kindness, warmth, friendliness, you welcome people with both arms. You seem like one of those people who would be the ultimate friend.

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒕

Yes, your pet is a literal crow.

Fun fact but crows remember who are nice to them and who are not. And that's how you became friends with this one - you kept feeding him, leaving shiny things on your window sill, and he kept coming back.

#personal aesthetic #match ups #shadow and bone #shadow and bone match up #shadow and bone pair up #game of thrones #game of thrones pair up #harry potter #harry potter match ups

20 notes · View notes

violetueur-archive · 2 years

Text

Unprompted » ALWAYS ACCEPTING

@tvrningout asked: tengen's magenta-colored gaze runs up and down nicolette's haggard frame, searching for any wounds severe enough to require immediate attention, and though it doesn't show, he's relieved to see the kinoe won't bleed out before the kakushi arrive. of course, that doesn't stop suma from balling her eyes out as she helps nicolette sit down, nor does it stop the worry that creases hinatsuru's brow and that leads to makio's attempt to strangle her crying wife. as hinatsuru tries to calm the other two bickering uzui's, tengen crouches in front of nicolette, reaching out a hand to cup her cheek in an act of tenderness that is typically reserved for his wives. " what was with that flashy act? " he asks ( his words should be teasing, yet he still sounds so serious ). " you could have died, protecting suma like that. "

The demon is dead and the job is done, yet entire situation threatens to overwhelm her even now, perhaps more so than the actual fight. Nicolette can feel four concerned pairs of eyes on her, feel nervous hands hovering around her weary frame, hear Suma’s sobbing in her ears, and she’s still coming down from her heightened state, making every sensation intensified by ten. Worry is clearly etched deeply upon their faces, and something about that makes her breath catch in her throat, chest burning with feelings she’s refused to put a name to.

No one has ever feared for her like this, and Nicolette thinks she might suffocate, or perhaps vomit, if she dares to meet any of their gazes.

Tengen in right in front of her, making him the hardest to avoid, and the kinoe stares right at her lap with a hardened, wild expression— like a cornered animal, ready to run at any moment. She can’t run though, she can barely even move. Navigating her way to the ground would’ve been impossible without Suma’s help, but even as her lips part to offer gratitude, not a single sound comes out. She won’t die, nor bleed out, which is usually her biggest concern, but regardless, Nicolette knows her condition is bad. Most of the damage is internal from the beating she took, harsh, ugly bruises blooming all across her pallid flesh. She thinks her right leg might be broken too, but it’s hard to tell.

The adrenaline state had eliminated all sensation of pain, making it possible to push past her limits without succumbing, but now that it’s beginning to fade, everything else has started rising to the surface. It’s agonizing— her body hurts, her head is pounding, and her heart... it feels like it might break. She swears it nearly falls out of her ass the moment Tengen reaches out to touch her face, large palm cupping her flushed cheek in an act that’s too affectionate, too kind, too easy to misunderstand. Worst of all it makes it impossible to avoid his gaze, and her eyes grow wide and painfully vulnerable as she meets it. The slayer isn’t sure what to do with the emotions she finds there, or the uncharacteristic lack of arrogance behind his question.

She wonders what her own expression must look like to him, right now. What kind of face is she making? What kind of emotion can he see— the fear, the yearning? Her vision swims, blurring with unshed tears as her mouth opens, and closes, and then opens again. ❝ I... ❞ Her voice is hoarse, so soft it’d be barely audible over the sounds of the three women bickering beside them, but for the sound hashira, she’s sure it can be heard clear as day. You could’ve died. ❝ Suma could’ve died... ❞ It’s the instinctual response, and the one that makes the most sense to her. In that moment, there had been no need to hesitate or weigh the pros and cons. Saving Suma at the risk of her own life had just made sense— her life meant more. It had more value, and was valued more by others. It would’ve caused them all so much pain, to lose her. Nicolette would’ve made the same decision, ten out of ten times, and she wouldn’t have ever once stopped to think about it.

But the way Tengen’s expression twists, brows creasing and eyes heavy with an emotion she cannot decipher, Nicolette can tell it’s the wrong answer. It makes her panic, the pain in her chest expanding and burning hotter. ❝ I’m sorry, ❞ she says quickly, flushing with shame, ❝ I wasn’t trying to overstep or cause trouble, I just— ❞ I care about her. I have feelings for your wife, your wives, and for you— how the fuck could she ever say something like that? She had already humiliated herself enough, by arrogantly risking her life to save a hashsira’s wife, and getting so hurt in the process, despite her rank.

So instead, she said nothing at all.

#tvrningout #WELL!!!! IM UPSET LMAOOOOO #SDMGNBSJKFGBFS HELP #↳ PRIVATE AU ; FOURTH WIFE || ❛ its okay to be selfish / i want to live ❜ ( tvrningout )#↳ ASKS ❛ since you’re lookin i’ll put on a fuckin show ❜#↳ ( QUEUE )#long post

6 notes · View notes

woodshildebrandt26 · 5 months

Text

Using any and all Professional Movers for Your Move

Moving can become a stressful in addition to overwhelming experience, yet hiring professional movers can make the method much smoother and less taxing. Whether you aren't moving to a new home or even relocating your enterprise, professional movers may provide the knowledge and assistance you need to ensure an effective and efficient shift. In this blog write-up, we will go over how to make the most involving professional movers for your move. 1. Study and Choose the Right Moving van Ahead of hiring professional movers, it's important to be able to do your research and choose the right moving van for your wants. Look for companies that have a good reputation, positive reviews, and are accredited and insured. You can also ask friends, family, or even colleagues for tips. Once you possess a shortlist regarding potential movers, contact them for rates and compare their very own services and costs. a couple of. Plan and Prepare Ahead of Period To help make the moving procedure smoother, it's vital to plan plus prepare ahead of time. Generate a timeline to your move and start packing well inside advance. Make a new list of all of the things you need to be able to move and coordinate them by type or room. This will not simply support you stay prepared but also help to make it easier for the movers to launch and unload the belongings. 3. Speak Your Needs plus Expectations Clear connection is key when working with professional movers. Make Packers and Movers Mumbai to Hyderabad in order to communicate your preferences plus expectations upfront. Permit them know regarding any fragile or perhaps valuable items of which require special dealing with. If you have any specific requests or concerns, avoid hesitate to discuss them with typically the movers. This will certainly help them know your requirements plus ensure a smooth in addition to efficient move. some. Take Advantage associated with Additional Services Specialist movers offer some sort of range of added services that can choose a move also easier. These solutions may include packing and unpacking, furnishings disassembly and disassemble, and storage solutions. Consider taking benefits of these companies if they meet your needs and budget. They will save you period and effort and ensure that your possessions are handled using care through the entire transferring process. 5. Brand and Organize Your current Belongings To make unpacking and settling in to your new area easier, label and organize your items before the movers arrive. Use color-coded labels or 3d stickers to point which space each box goes to. This will help the particular movers place the bins in the right rooms, saving a person effort and time later about. Additionally, make sure you load up essential items separately and keep them easily accessible during the move. 6. Stay Involved and Supervise the Process Although professional movers are usually experts at exactly what they do, is actually still important to stay involved and supervise the shifting process. Be present in the moving working day to answer virtually any questions the movers could have and give any necessary instructions. Keep a listing involving your belongings and even check it contrary to the movers' inventory to make sure that everything arrives securely at your brand-new location. 7. Show Appreciation and Offer Feedback As soon as the shift is complete, exhibit appreciation for the expert movers for their challenging work and determination. A simple give thanks to you or even a tiny gesture like providing refreshments can go a new long way in expressing your gratitude. In addition , provide feedback with regards to your experience using the moving company. This kind of will not simply make them improve their own services but in addition aid future customers within making informed decisions.

#Packers and Movers #Packers and Movers Cost #Packers and Movers Charges

0 notes

subarubi · 2 years

Text

sun on my scars

Bucky Barnes x Reader | Word Count: 1.1k | bucky barnes is feeling soft this sunday morning

Warnings: 18+ Sexually suggestive content. Slight angst. Depictions of scars. Very fluffy.

a/n: long time no see :))) just something short to get me back into the swing of things i.e. i’m feeling soft and idk how else to cope with that aside from writing. i’m typically a show, don’t tell kind of person when it comes to love, but sometimes you just need to hear it, y’all feel?

Few feelings rival it.

That tickling warmth along his spine, around his shoulders, and up his cheeks as they pull into a smile. A long held stretch with pale morning sun hugging his skin, and an arm curled around his waist that tightens when a soft moan escapes his lips.

Bucky can’t claim to know feelings well—even now, when he feels so much all the time, he has trouble understanding them. Half of the time he wishes he could hide from them under the covers forever. The other half of him can get so overwhelmed with a sense of gratitude and loss that rattles his bones, puts him on edge, makes him want to peel mangled skin from his body and burn it all to hell. Maybe cry too, if he let himself.

Feelings and what it actually means to feel again is a careful dance in a dangerous minefield. Everyone, even he knows it: be careful around Bucky. And yeah, that’s not a good feeling. One of the worst actually.

This, this he’ll take over that—over anything, really—any day.

He doesn’t know why stretching in the morning feels so good, but fuck does it. Slow pull of stiff muscles and cracked bones, Bucky lets a rare smile tug the corners of his blushed lips wide. Dark, thick eyelashes filter in the morning bright and flutter across the high planes of his cheeks.

There are times when Bucky is beautiful. The kind of beauty that hurts somewhere deep in your chest and makes you feel sick. He’s menacing and soft, guarded and kind, dangerous and hurt— so many things at once and it truly is beautiful to see him like that.

But in the morning, in bed with you, he’s just a pretty boy. Warm and unbothered— happy. Few will ever see him like this, even fewer that he’d let see him like this.

You are one of those people. One who has never been careful around Buck, even when they maybe should. One who kisses him just as often hard as soft. He can hardly put into words what that means to him. And on mornings like these, when he is laid bare in the sun and content to stay warm there— sometimes you see his scars and say nothing, other times you marvel and kiss at them so tenderly.

Bucky doesn’t know how exactly you do it, but it’s always the right time for each.

A part of him that shrinks and grows depending on the day, doesn’t think he deserves it. Your eyes soften often, but are softest with his image reflected in them. Like he’s something to coo at, a baby rabbit cupped in your hands that you just want to squish against your face— you’ve described it to him in those exact words before. He is decidedly not that and something closer to a reformed murder-bot (so Sam says).

“You’re doing it again. Stop.”

It comes out muffled, a grumble spoken between layers of white cotton and feather down. If Bucky weren’t a super-soldier enhanced just about everywhere, he might not have heard it at all.

A hand marbled with the swirling imprint of the tight space between sheet and skin fumbles its way out of the mountain of covers, smacking down to splay wide across his furrowed brow and frown. Bucky reaches up and takes hold of the wrist, thumb rubbing fond circles across its soft inside.

“Doing what?”

The other hand, the one wrapped around him, pinches at his side. Then, a head pops out from under the duvet, pretty and scowling. Bucky’s lips instinctively curl into a soft smile as he brings your wrist to them.

“Thinking,” you huff as if it were obvious, snatching your wrist from his kiss and straddling him so as to better stare him down. You lean over him, hands placed on either side of his head and sporting a cute pout. Oh how he loves you and that pout.

Bucky’s hands rub up and down your thighs, fingers curling to press into the backs of them, “Some of us like to think from time to time.”

“Har har,” you punch his shoulder.

Bucky grunts but fails to hide the hum of laughter on the tail end of it. You sigh, curl your fingers into the sheets, and that fond look in your eyes makes his mouth go dry and his gut stir, “You do it too much.”

He hums as your fingers map the lines of his face, reading the story of where he’s been and what he’s felt and when he nicked his chin shaving yesterday. You trace the wrinkles in his forehead and follow the laugh lines from his nose down to the corner of his mouth, thumb pressing into blush lips.

“You could help me stop,” Bucky’s smirk falls as you pinch the corner of it, “Ow!”

“Mr. Barnes! On the Lord’s day no less?” you jokingly chide him. Even still, you can’t help the way your fingers move across his skin in sultry lines.

There’s no urgency to it. It’s the soft and slow kind of loving, the kind of simmering heat that only just begins to bubble in the pit of his gut. Your lips leave damp trails on either side of his chest, lingering a beat on the raised pink line in his ribs, the missing chunk in his flesh arm. Then, the darkened burns of his right hip where your teeth press in.

Bucky’s not sure at what point his eyes took on a certain watery shine, but he chokes out a laughing sob when you come back up to smile into the jagged line across his heart.

Your love used to only make him feel worse about himself.

When he couldn’t reconcile the image of him that existed in your mind, with what was in his. He’d close his eyes and clench his teeth, only just managing to bear the shower of your affection— hating himself for even wanting it, depending on it.

Now, the vibranium-firm hold on the back of your neck brings your lips back up to his. His other hand palms the flesh of your ass to coax a surprised and delighted hum from the back of your throat and into his hot panting mouth.

“I love you,”

He manages to clear the little, sweet whimpers from his voice as your thumb brushes the smallest of tears from under his eye. The teasing coo that escapes your smirk almost ruins it.

A sneaky hand with wicked intent slithers between your bodies, that Bucky struggles to ignore in favor of affectionately rubbing his nose along the side of your own. For all your cheekiness, you’re just as often earnest with your love. Pulling away, you look at him in such a way that you don’t even have to say it— he just knows.

But you say it anyway, so that it sticks, “I love you too.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #reader insert #bucky barnes fanfiction #one shot #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes #mcu fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #gender neutral reader #courtesy of my depresso espresso #so fluffy it makes me sick #i changed my blog name for the fourth time #i could've proofread a lot better

237 notes · View notes

rivendellsstuff · 3 years

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

𝐂𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | ❝Slowly, she was collapsed and sheathed inside his heart — and that was the beginning and the end of everything for Levi Ackerman.❞

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2590;

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: Mentions of canon-typical violence. Inspired by Arwen Undómiel's speech in “The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring'' and the song ''Can’t help falling in love'' by Elvis.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Hi! English is not my native language, so if you spot a misspelled word or anything else, feel free to let me know. I plan to look for someone to help me with proofreading because I feel like I leave a lot behind. I hope I can find help to continue publishing these short stories!

────── ▎Levi Ackerman still remembers the feeling when he realized that he loved her.

He knew, he simply knew, that nothing would ever be the same again. This love came suddenly, without warning, and was born inside him in silence, destroying all the countless walls he had built over the years.

The rational and critical part of his brain is always trying to convince him to drown that feeling because nothing good can result from love in those days. So, for a long time, Levi tried to act as if it didn't hurt — how bad hiding what he felt hurt his mind. The fact was: he always lost the people he loved. The fear of losing another person, of seeing them turn into a memory, never terrified him as much as it did now. He didn't want to lose her too.

So, he wonders what the hell he should do. Over the past few months, Levi has always kept her back and that was the nature of their relationship. Levi's understanding of her had always been instinctive, based on a single fact: they were perfect opposites and, in a way, perfect counterweights. But then, he looked at her in a million different ways and loved her in each of them — as a soldier, as a partner, as a friend, as a lover.

Suddenly, humanity's strongest soldier, the one who had brought down countless titans and people who performed evil deeds beyond human comprehension, was unarmed and vulnerable. Slowly, she was collapsed and sheathed inside his heart — and that was the beginning and the end of everything for Levi Ackerman.

The first time Levi Ackerman realized how much he loved her occurred the night before the operation to retake Wall Maria. It was evening, and it was raining - a fine, murmuring autumnal drizzle. The weather was comfortable. Not so hot and not so cold, but just right. Even so, Levi Ackerman was not feeling well. His body was begging for rest and his mind for comfort, but he could not afford to lie down like everyone else. In the stillness, his thoughts were constantly interrupted by the image of the soldiers and friends he had lost over the years, thrown to the ground and covered in his own blood, and this made Levi feel dizzy and sick.

His shoulders were down, his head hung down, and his body was slightly bent over the documents on his desk. Beside him was a long-empty cup of tea. It was the shadow of the great Levi Ackerman. It was simpler than humanity's strongest soldier, but at the same time it was empty and incomplete. Ironic. He had always boasted of being cool, of not caring about trivialities, and of keeping himself intact as a captain, and now he was nothing but a decaying shadow of the infamous Levi Ackerman.

And so, the first few hours of that night passed. So much was happening all at once. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to clear his mind and stand firm, as he always should.

He sighed. Levi left the pile of documents meticulously organized on the table, picked up the empty cup, and stood up. His eyes grew accustomed easily to the darkness, the only sound was of an old clock at the end of the hall and his footsteps on the old linoleum floor.

「flashback」

Levi liked to think he lived long enough to understand that one can never escape his true nature. Such is Historia's destiny, and she is finally crowned as Queen before a large and enthusiastic crowd. The people remember seeing the Queen protect them from a Titan and admire her for standing up to her father.

A smart move, Levi thought.

Standing next to Erwin and Hange, he thinks of his mother. Of Isabel, who cannot be the heroine she was meant to be. He thinks of Furlan and his resilience. He thinks of all the people he has lost over the years, especially those who failed to become what they were meant to be.

''Hey'', Mikasa's voice was low, but it was enough to get the captain's attention.

Up to that point, Levi had not greeted any of his squadron members, although he knew that many were with unasked questions hanging on their tongues. Political issues occupied most of his time. The words were not spoken, but duly were there, at some point; all praise and words of gratitude for his team.

And Levi looked at her, grave tenderness in his eyes turned to Mikasa, and yet, even if she had not been raised among men of war, she was someone many could not overcome in battle. She approached the girl with hair as black as raven wings and whispered something in her ear, to which Mikasa thanked her with a small smile. In those days, it was rare to see anyone smile.

Her dress, which was a deep green with white flower embroidery and golden arabesques on the sleeves, shimmered in the faint wind that afternoon. Levi thinks that she looks so beautiful with the sunlight in her hair.

He interrupts his thought suddenly, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

And, as if sensing that she is being watched, she raises her eyes from Mikasa to the captain. He thinks that she is going to raise one of her eyebrows or simply keep the conversation with Mikasa. But then she did something that surprised him even more. She smiled. At him.

He feels his cheeks burn.

''You are staring, shorty'', said Hange, amused, following his gaze.

''Tch, shut up.''

It was just a smile, but Levi couldn't forget it for the rest of the ceremony.

He thought that the true beauty of the place belonged to her.

「 flashback's end」

Damn, he thinks. That smile.

The smell of tea berries and wet earth overwhelm him. Outside, the rain was falling hard as he brewed another cup of tea. He sipped the warm, clear liquid, allowing the noise made by his lips as he sucked the drink to ring out loud. He smiled, amazed that she didn't like the drink. This was the first more human demonstration he had had in a long, long time.

It was during a sleepless night like that, months ago, when they could finally be in each other's presence, just them. It was... easy to talk. Maybe it was because of the tea, the sound of her laughter, or none of those two things. Maybe just her and her way of looking beyond him as nothing but.... Levi. Just Levi.

Levi grew up poor and alone in a place where he was taught to hate every bit of it with a burning passion, he understands a thing or two about injustice and hate even before Kenny decides to teach him how to fight. He loved his mother with every fiber of his being. He loved his friends. When they died, Levi felt like he was dying with them; but that feeling? It was a different kind of love. He had never loved anything, or anyone like her.

Get out of my head, woman.

He took a deep breath and decided to put those thoughts aside once again. After finishing the tea, he put the cup away and headed back to his room.

He stopped himself momentarily when he noticed the door ajar on his right.

And there she was, dressed in a silver and blue dress, in a polished wooden chair by the window, whose light westerly wind blew through and made her hair flutter. To him, it seemed that starlight was in her eyes.

Levi was silent for a second and then sighed. There was nothing to be said now that they were there, preparing to reclaim the lost lands and waiting for answers.

But when she let out a deep sigh of pain, he slammed his knuckles against the door. She raised her eyes to him, feeling her throat go dry, and immediately leaned back, pulling her eyebrows together in confusion.

''Captain,'' she said, but signs of weariness and pain could not be hidden in her gently voice.

"Are you hurt?" asked the superior, taking her by surprise.

"Except for a few bruises, I'm fine'', She said, gesturing for him to come in. "Can't sleep?"

Levi studied her from top to bottom, paying attention to her body language and any sign of injury. There were two scars on her hands. She tried to cover them with the sleeve of her dress.

''I rarely get any sleep, so the person who should be asking this question is me,'' he said, and although he was glad to see her, worry ran through his chest.

She smiled.

"Fair enough''

Frustration tightened his voice a bit, but she thought it was incredibly appealing when he said: ''You never respond the way people expect you to.''

Levi approached and stopped beside the window. The beautiful weather and the calm seemed a mere mockery to the men before the most dreadful mission of their lives.

"I'm sorry," she says sincerely. ''Just a stupid accident during training...and I can't sleep,'' she admitted. ''Nightmares. They've been recurring since we faced the female titan. I think my brain is malfunctioning.''

''It's ok you have hard times.''

She took a deep breath and then inhaled slowly. It had been a long time since they had shared moments like that; and she had always loved his company infinitely, even though she had never shown it in words.

The thoughts began to surge like a burst of fireworks, making loud noises, disappearing and reappearing. Instinctively, she pressed one hand against the other, but the twinge of pain almost made her curse. He didn't miss that.

''You should bandage this to prevent an infection'' he says.

She let her hands slide to the sides of her body.

''Yeah, you're probably right.''

"Do you have any medical kits around here?''

Her expression wavers for a while, as if she is thinking about it. Then she turns and opens one of the bags left beside the bed. Levi has approached her as she begins to rummage through the material.

''Here, let me do that,'' he said.

「flashback」

The horses pranced and neighed, startled, when a group of titans was spotted. The maneuvering equipment tinkled as the wires were released. The sight of those creatures was terrifying, but the battlefield had already become a part of their lives, and Survey Corps was willing to fight.

Above, a sunless sky, muffled by heavy clouds. Levi could hear roars and screams all around, the sharp, distinctive thud of the clash of blades against the back of the titans' heads. There were bloodied bodies, some without limbs and with pieces strewn across the surrounding ground.

Then, time seemed to freeze.

The titan's giant hand withdrew and a terrible howl resound across the battlefield.

The titan screamed again, but the fury of the guttural howl was nothing compared to what the captain felt as he investigated the still face of (Y/N). For the hundredth of a second it took his mind to assimilate the events, Levi was struck by horror. He stood motionless; he simply found himself gripping the blades and looking at her. Suddenly, his muscles were contracted by the urgency, the will, the urge to hurt him. This wild need, echoing in his ears like a broken record, obscured his mind.

With an immense bang, several blows struck the titan.

As the creature felt motionless to the ground, Levi ran to it, whose face was as white as a lobelia and as cold as frost.

He didn't know how deeply he was entwined with her until they tried to take her away from him

「 flashback's end」

Levi listened attentively to everything she said, as she was also attentive to the gentle, careful way in which he touched her.

''I hope you won't use this to bribe me, Ackerman.''

He rolls his eyes.

''Maybe I'll take Sasha's food and say it was you.''

''That's the biggest threat I've ever heard in my entire life,'' she says eventually.

A strange flutter in his stomach threatened a smile on his face.

"Maybe it makes you let to be a brat"

She takes a long breath.

"I'll let her kill me and then you'll be sorry"

"Don't be so dramatic", he says. "By the way, I'll never let anyone hurt you as long I live."

She is speechless. Her heart starts to beat faster than she thought it could, and all her body was filled with a so good feel. She couldn't explain exactly what is, but there was anyway.

Levi doesn't look at her face again. And then, the silence was back once again.

It was a difficult operation for the Captain; he touches her skin, heard her voice so close and quietly to him.

"It's done", Levi says.

She follows his eyes and saw her own hands. He still was holding them.

"I appreciate that."

He looks at her.

You're so fucking beautiful.

Levi runs his thumb over her fingers tenderly.

A crow screams at the top of its lungs in the distance, and she almost cringes. Levi ignores him and, longing for her starry eyes again, brings her hand to his lips and places a soft kiss on his skin.

"Are you afraid?" she whispers. Levi could feel the goosebumps that her touch gave him. ''Sometimes, I feel as if we are going to discover something eviler than the titans themselves.''

The wind blows angrily, making her hair fly.

''There are few things that make me afraid. This is not one of them.''

Losing you is, he thinks.

Inside his chest, the sound of his racing heartbeat is loud enough for him to hear. His heart pulses melodiously, pumping blood and sending some to his cheeks.

"Besides, this must be the first time I've heard you say you're afraid," he says, braiding invisible lines on the back of his hands. "Maybe you're sick. Let's examine it before it devours your brain entirely.

"I can't tell if you're joking or not."

He laughs lightly, and she thinks how nice it is when he does that. Levi's face is always so stern, so cold when they are around others. It's like it's a secret that only she knows.

Suddenly, Levi thinks about what it would feel like to kiss her.

"You should try to rest now", he whispers, looking away.

He starts to walk to the door.

It was in this exact moment he wished to have been able to tell her all those things in his mind.

"Wait!"

He turns back to her.

"What is?"

While Levi said, she holds his cheeks with her palms.

"Stay", she whispers. "Just a little longer"

Levi feels his heart beating faster than he thought it could, and all of his body was filled with that desire again.

Their lips touch in a chaste and last kiss for barely a second.

Levi holds her hands close to his heart. His tongue traces her bottom lips, brushes against the edge of her teeth before mingling with hers. It was kind, as it could say all those things on his heart.

When their lips step back, he says: "For as long as you wish"

#aot x reader #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman fluff

79 notes · View notes

yinses · 3 years

Text

— choso ft. curse!reader

a/n: a little drabble hc thing written for my choso queen @wasabito

—choso doesn’t understand what you are the first time he met you— you made for a very convincing lost soul as you drifted from place to place. he summed up that you were also unaware of your presentation, seemingly baffled by the lack of reaction that you received from passing pedestrians. call him intrigued and mildly invested for the next few days to come, observing at a distance as you tried to communicate with anyone who would listen— could listen— still not realizing your options were limited.

—he could intervene at any point. not to feed into your silly need to make acquaintances. probably to kill you actually. this naivety and unaware would make an easy meal of cursed energy. your resolve may have been strong enough to fight through the accumulation of curses molding your form, but you lacked that combative instinct to put up a fight. really, he’d be doing you a favor by putting you out of your misery.

—there was no preamble or plan needed. he would just appear, take and go on with his day. probably inform mahito about the propensity for potential special grades to procure. he doesn’t even concentrate his energy, a simple strike to the back of your head would do the job— but then you’re turning, eyes alight with surprise, then consideration and finally blinding excitement.

‘you can see me!’

he hadn’t even said a word but his gaze had locked with yours and you just knew. filled with so much hope as you stupidly reached out to touch him. choso was overwhelmed with a mask of patience he didn’t know he possessed. he stood in a stupor as your hands molded against the planes of his chest and familiarized along the lines of his sides. there was nothing sexual about the touch, but the foreign warmth you were emitting itched at his skin in a way he couldn’t describe.

the grip that was meant to close around you neck, settled for your wrists instead to break the contact. it wasn’t enough to wipe the elated grin off your face as you animatedly chatted away about your name and other idle details.

he had never felt this way about a curse before. the dark energy was there, dense and tangible to give you a form. yet where was the thrill to kill and consume?

—choso did not kill you that day. and neither did his watch end. though he wasn’t as obscure as he had been before. now you knew to look for him. though seldomly succeeding as he had the power to conceal his presence. sometimes you were determined regardless, eyes scouting with a little pout on your lips. other times you called out to him, never his name though as he had yet to give it.

‘i know you’re there.’ you didn’t.

‘please, come talk to me.’ he shouldn’t

‘i’m so lonely.’ ….how fitting.

—you’re such a strange sentimental being. not yet understanding why humans shudder at your presence like a bad omen. it should discourage you— prove that something is not quite right about you. yet he finds that it doesn’t deter you in the least. slowly you realize that while they can’t always see you, most of them acknowledge your existence in one way or another. it feeds into a different kind of goal for you, one unlike his own that breeds into the ideal of a world without humans.

—he finds it almost comical as you teeter throughout the city completing your own personal list of chores.

snagging stray balloons and returning them to grabby hands.

nudging toys from the way of traffic to deterring wandering children.

he once actually witnessed you guiding an old woman across the street. thick brows raising in disbelief at the shaky voice of gratitude you’d received.

it wasn’t much but he just knew you would savor that moment for weeks to come.

‘you’re going to get yourself killed.’

—despite the harsh warning, you’re still grinning at him. its the first time since that day that he’d willingly approached you. and you retained that stupid grin all while he explained how you were too weak. that you were just asking for curses to pounce and feed on your being. all while implying that he was one of them.

—no other spirit would be as lenient with their curiosity as he had been. it was a surprise that you lasted this long.

you told him it wouldn't come to that.

but it did.

nearly.

—he hadn’t been the only one watching you. it had only taken a few moments of you being outside of his typical territory. choso didn’t understand why you would drift that far after being so content before. he couldn’t comprehend why it had even registered on his radar.

—they were all low grades but in a pack it spelled lethality for you. unlike him, there were no spoken words, they struck without warning. you would have perished without a blink of an eye. your presence lost without a single soul to mourn and only one as witness.

and yet you lived to see another day.

after eliminating each and everyone, he called you stupid.

not for not acting like a proper curse.

or for wasting your time on damn souls.

not even for failing to defend yourself.

‘why would you leave my reach?’

why are you making me feel these things?

and of course you didn’t give him a proper answer. just that foolish little smile that drew him into this mess in the first place.

‘because i knew you’d come anyway.’

#choso jjk #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen

173 notes · View notes

rainsongdean · 3 years

Text

you’re always golden to me

post-mockingjay / pre-epilogue everlark healing together, appreciating the sunset, and maybe even falling in love

"We should head back before it gets dark." Peeta's words rang out in the open air between them, but they were not enough to pull Katniss from her trance-like state.

It had been a rough day. Not enough so to be classified as a bad day, seeing as Katniss had found the motivation to move from the bed to the couch at some point in the afternoon. Now, though, watching the clouds paint watercolors in the sky seemed to bring her back to life. She was encapsulated by the sight.

"Not yet," she eventually spoke, her voice somewhat hoarse from not using it for a while. "I want to stay until it's over. Besides, we could walk home blindfolded from here."

It was true. Katniss had discovered the hill nestled in the woods behind Victor's Village not long after returning from the Capitol. She found solace in being embraced by the wilderness rather than being suffocated in her old home, so when she accidentally stumbled upon the tall mount that overlooked the wide plains and open sky, she knew she had found what she had subconsciously been searching for.

It had taken a few months before she brought Peeta to her secret spot. He'd only returned to District 12 a few days before she had found the hill, and they both needed some time to warm up to each other again. But one day, after suffering through a particularly vivid flashback that ended with him handcuffed to one of Haymitch's spare cages for his geese, Katniss figured it would do them both good to escape into the forest for a while.

That was the first night they watched the sunset from the hill. It had been slightly uncomfortable, sitting inches apart on the dewy grass, no attempt at conversation made by either party. Eventually, Peeta suggested they return home to make dinner before it got too late, but Katniss insisted that she could tell by the shape of the clouds that they would put on an impressive show.

As usual, she was not wrong.

It was the most vibrant spectacle either of them had seen - far more breathtaking than any Capitol party or fireworks display. Sure, they had both watched the sun go down in 12 before, but their view had always been clouded by the thick layer of dust in the air from the mines or obstructed by the cluster of buildings stacked practically on top of one another. Here on their hill, nothing stood between them and the sky. Beyond that, the best part was they got to share it together, just the two of them.

Since that night, the pair made an effort to hike the two-mile trek to the hill at least once a week, though they typically found themselves there more often than that. Katniss still liked to visit the spot alone, sometimes using the safe space to speak aloud to Prim or Finnick and imagine what they would say back. Other times she just enjoyed the silence.

Peeta, too, ventured to the hill a few times by himself. He had tried on several occasions to paint the landscape, and while he was able to perfect the morning glow and mid-afternoon sun, he couldn't capture the colors of nightfall that he most desired to paint.

Despite the significance that the holy ground held for each of them individually, neither one could deny that they preferred to visit the hill together. Katniss had been unofficially living with Peeta for weeks now, and they even shared a bed most nights, but there was a different breed of intimacy that came with being in the woods, nestled in their own little corner of the universe.

"Fine," Peeta sighed contentedly, breaking the silence again. "We can stay as long as you'd like." With that, he leaned toward the picnic basket they had brought and reached in, shoving aside the empty containers that once held a selection of berries, cheeses, and breads to reveal a neatly folded fleece blanket he had stashed in the bottom. "I came prepared," he announced with a sense of pride.

Katniss briefly pulled her gaze from the view for the first time since the sun had begun its descent to offer Peeta a small smile of gratitude. The gesture warmed his heart with the blaze of ten thousand sunsets.

Taking care to wrap the soft cover around their legs, Peeta pulled the fabric up to their chests and then eased his back to the ground until he was laying horizontal on the hill. Katniss followed suit so they were both engulfed by the blanket.

Their new angle only served to better showcase the colors stretching endlessly above them. One hue in particular transported Katniss back to a seemingly ancient memory of the two of them.

"Orange. Muted... like a sunset." Katniss didn't break her eye contact with the sky but smirked to herself as she spoke.

Peeta nudged her shoulder playfully in response, easily picking up on what she was referring to. Their conversation on the train about favorite colors was one of the first to come back to him after he had been rescued from the Capitol. Shifting slightly toward Katniss, he reached out and twisted his finger gently around a stray strand of hair that had escaped from her braid. "You're so poetic when you quote me," he mused sarcastically.

"Well, your choice of favorite color is much more poetic than Effie’s choice of wig," she quipped. It was ironic how some of her and Peeta's best conversations had happened in the midst of some of the worst times of their lives. And yet, there they were: safe and relatively happy, just two kids trying to piece themselves back together with some pastel paints, cheese buns, and hidden hills. It may not have been anything profound, but it was living, and Katniss figured that, for time being, that would be enough.

She inhaled deeply, trying to absorb the moment. They had reached the peak of the sunset when every particle in the air seemed to glisten from the giant star's final attempt to remain on the topside of the world. There was only one word to describe it.

"Everything is golden."

And, for an instant, it was.

But as the sun succumbed to the pull of dusk, the raging reds and oranges that had scorched the sky swiftly turned to delicate pinks and purples, paving the way for the black of night.

It was then that Katniss realized Peeta had been uncharacteristically quiet, his sunset commentary usually being much more prolific than hers. When she turned her head to the left to face him, she found he was already staring back at her, still toying with her hair. His deep blue eyes twinkled like he knew a secret and was about to let her in on it.

When they first met, that kind of look from Peeta overwhelmed her. Sometimes Katniss would catch him staring at her like she carried the world in her hands, or spun threads of gold with her words. It puzzled her, annoyed her, and at times even enraged her. But after his hijacking, it had been so rare for that young, innocent Peeta to reappear and give her that look which spelled out his love for her so plainly on his face, and she had grown to cherish it.

"I change my mind." For the third time that night, Peeta's voice sliced open the veil of silence that covered them.

Katniss abruptly rose to a sitting position, an expression of confusion clouding her face as she leaned over Peeta's resting form. "What do you mean?"

"I change my mind," He repeated calmly, shrugging as if the answer to her question was obvious. "The sunset isn't my favorite shade of orange anymore."

Katniss bit her lip and furrowed her eyebrows, causing the wrinkles on her forehead to deepen. Peeta could tell she was trying to keep herself from challenging him, so he decided not to torture her any longer.

"You are my favorite shade of orange," he reached his hand up to caress her cheek, easing away the signs of worry that had risen on her face. "You, sitting here with the sun reflecting in your eyes, your skin glowing in the light." He lowered his voice to a whisper and retracted his hand, slowly guiding Katniss's head to rest on his chest so she could hear his heart beating. "The way you make me feel like I'm on fire inside, all the time."

Girl on fire. The words echoed in his mind and, although he did not dare speak them, he internally admitted they rang true. And it was in moments like those, as he held her under the night sky with millions of stars blazing above them, that he saw Katniss burn the brightest.

"Oh, shut up," she exhaled, turning away from him in an attempt to conceal the blush that had overtaken her smiling face, but Peeta didn't have to see it to know it was there. "You're so cheesy."

"Hey now," he feigned a hurt expression, "I thought you liked my cheese."

Katniss couldn't hide her outburst at his nonsense and they both fell into a fit of laughter together. They hadn't spoken much about what exactly their relationship status was at the moment, hesitant to put labels on anything, but he still wanted her to know how he felt about her. And while Katniss had never been proficient in using her words to convey her love, the way that she clung to Peeta, burying her head in his arm while gasping to regain her breath from laughing so hard, told him everything he needed to know.

"Come on, we should really head back before Haymitch gets worried." Peeta attempted once again to persuade Katniss to return home after they had both calmed down. His stomach was beginning to growl - the small rations of their picnic earlier weren't nearly enough to tide over his appetite until morning - and now that the sun had set, he'd much rather snuggle up with Katniss on their couch than on the cold, hard ground. And besides, while he didn't really think their mentor would be waiting up for them, he figured the argument might be enough to persuade her.

"Seeing as it's past 3 p.m., I think it's safe to say that Haymitch is passed out on his couch," Katniss countered, but her actions said otherwise as she began to gather herself up off the ground. Peeta knew she had a soft spot for the old man.

It took them a little over half an hour to walk home, leisurely following the path that their own footprints had created over time. Upon entering the house, Peeta made a beeline to the kitchen to heat up some leftover stew from the night before. While he ate, Katniss headed to Haymitch's house, opening the unlocked door to find him asleep in his living room as she had predicted. She pried the half-empty bottle from the arm that hung off the couch and set it on a nearby table before turning the lights out and closing his front door behind her.

She had recently made a habit of checking in on her friend, especially during the weeks when Effie travelled back to the Capitol for work. She knew he had done the same for her countless times. Haymitch never seemed to question why he would sometimes wake up with a blanket draped over him or a pillow propped beneath his head, and Katniss didn't plan on bringing it up. Like most things between the two of them, it went unsaid.

Later that evening, tucked under the covers of Peeta's bed - their bed - Katniss felt more at ease than she did most nights. Maybe it was the serenity of the particularly striking sunset, or maybe it was Peeta's roundabout confession of the feelings he still had for her. Either way, she was pleasantly content.

On the other side of the mattress, as Peeta danced on the cusp of sleep, his mind dragged him back to something Katniss had said on the hill. Everything is golden. He knew what she meant; that the landscape had been blanketed by the radiance of the sunset. But he felt it was true in another sense, and that maybe this new phrase was an even more appropriate way to describe the true essence of Katniss Everdeen.

Before drifting off herself, Katniss heard Peeta mumble one last line of admiration, causing her to fall asleep with a smile ingrained on her lips.

"You're always golden to me."

#the hunger games #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #everlark #katniss and peeta #one shot #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #catching fire #mockingjay #thg #hunger games #everlark fic #everlark fanfiction #everlark drabble #thg fanfic #drabble #primrose everdeen #finnick odair

178 notes · View notes

mysmegrace · 3 years

Note

hey love, how are you? i was wondering if you could do mc (any gender) and 707 going on a dinner date:)

hello love, i'm excellent (bc of u). of course i can, anything for you :3 i've decided to use they/them pronouns in this fic so it's easier for people to insert their own pronouns and gendered language as well as it being applicable to more people yknow. anyway i hope i did this justice <3

summary: saeyoung and mc got out to dinner to end the day. unbeknown to mc, saeyoung has a surprise to ask you.

words: 1.8k

Elly The Fourth (707 x MC)

---

you knew saeyoung had a tendency of being late, sometimes he’d even push it to the 15-20 minute mark. you vividly remember telling him about it in the past, but you two always came to an agreement. after all, you couldn’t stay mad when he’d grab the cat ears he had laying around, putting them on while puckering his lips to express false innocence.

however, he had failed to hold up your previous agreement of “if you are to be late, let me know beforehand”. passing a new number on the clock every time you looked up, the restaurant continued to populate with no sign of the man you longed for. boy would you let him have it this time.

you needed something new as a form of punishment. something that would make him stick to your agreements. maybe the silent treatment, or perhaps you’d whip him with the belt he spent a ridiculous amount of money on? “wait no... that wouldn’t end well on my end” you thought as your memories reminded you of his sadistic nature.

while trying to come to a consensus, the vermillion haired man entered the establishment. showing off his typical goofy, yet tender, smile as he eyed your sitting position down. you could hear the clicking of his shoes coming closer, but paid no attention as you had heard that the entire evening from strangers surrounding you.

“boo!” you hear suddenly, almost springing out of your seat, partially convinced your heart would jump out of your chest for a split second. however you had no time to take in sudden scare as your body instantly started to heat up. he arrived 25 minutes late and has the audacity to make his grand entrance by frightening you?

being met with silence on his end, he decides to quickly break the tension. “sorry i’m late, it was an accident” he says, only telling half of the truth. it was an accident in the fact that he was late and didn’t intend on being, but wasn’t an accident in the sense that he knew what he was doing beforehand.

however, he would keep that a secret until the time was right. surprises are better if they’re unexpected after all. snapping out of his thoughts, he noticed how your lips haven’t dared to move in the few minutes he’s been here. trying to come up with ways to lighten the mood while getting a response from you, he says “i’m really sorry. please forgive me and talk to me. it was for a good reason, i promise. you’ll find out soon enough”.

watching as your eyes softened and your posture lightened exactly when he was now eye level with you, he takes it as a sign to continue on with the original plan. only hoping your body language was from you being convinced by his words rather than because of your growing disappointment towards him. going to take the seat across from you, you answer “saeyoung, we’ve talked about this. why were you so late?”.

“babe, i can’t tell you yet. it’s a secret, please understand. let’s enjoy what i have planned for now and we can talk about it later, please?” he answered quickly, not giving a moment for him to accidently spill the beans. after a few seconds, he saw the look on your face as you decided to give into his proposal and make amends later.

for the next hour, tonight would strictly be about you two. he loves nothing more. once you give your verbal agreement, he gives back a small smile. one that reads of gratitude. calling the waiter over, you both receive your menus.

the food all looked so good, but it wasn’t something he’d want everyday. that kind of taste isn’t much appealing to him. after all, he only chose the restaurant because of your open wish to eat there one day. hence why in classic saeyoung style, he decided on honey garlic chicken wings. commoner food, as jumin would say. honey garlic chicken wings, honey buddha chips, close enough.

on the contrary, you were in awe at the food selection. as long as you ate a few things off the menu, you could die happy. yet shock consumed you when your eyes glided across to check out the price. it was incredibly expensive. guilt started eating you up by the second.

you couldn’t ask him to get you something, it was simply too much. your conscience wouldn’t let you. unbeknownst to you, saeyoung noticed your sudden distress. he could read you like the back of his hand. “what’s the matter?” he asked.

taken aback, you responded “well.. everythings so expensive.” you had tried to mask your emotions in the moment, but to no avail. you should’ve known better than to think your love wouldn’t have his eyes on you 24/7.

saeyoung could sense that was the issue. you had always been hesistant about spending other peoples money, however that just made him love you more. attempting to calm your worries, he says “don’t worry about it. you know i get paid well”.

you paused, thinking about his statement. “i know, but you should put that money towards savings. after all your work is illegal” you respond, after giving it a half-assed thought. your eyes peered up to find the love of your life smirking, just before replying “pshh, laws are just words on a paper”.

you had to admit, that was a playful thing for him to say. so far he had succeeded in his plans of lightening the mood, it being confirmed when you returned his reply with a giggle. god he loved hearing that giggle.

calling the waiter over again, you two placed your orders. meaning now you both were participating in the waiting game. in saeyoung’s mind, this was a perfect opportunity. he would have at least 20 minutes to explain everything he had been planning to.

so, he starts to go for it. opening by saying “so, about why i was late earlier.” now he had your full attention as you were dying to hear his reasoning so you could decide whether or not an ass whooping would be an acceptable punishment for this evenings occurrence.

“i had booked an appointment to sign some paperwork, but the appointment got moved 30 minutes. i didn’t have a choice but to leave you waiting. and i was too caught up in the moment to let you know beforehand” he continued, giving you a second to take in his words.

yet your mind began racing with questions. what paperwork? why did he need an appointment? why would he plan it for today? you left no time to waste before you let the questions out, not wanting to waste a single second.

perfect, he thought. you were going along with what he had planned out to happen beforehand. giving you your much deserved answers, he continues “well, i needed to do it today so i could give you a proper surprise. i never want you to be in any unnecessary stress, hence why i did everything in advance.”

he left you hanging for no more than a second. he loved being able to see the face you made while you were practically on the edge of your seat. he also loved the dramatic effect, the one he’d never be able to nail unless he were an experience actor. nevertheless, it was fun to try.

so to finish his statement, he lets the secret free, exclaiming “since we both have an undying love for cats, i’ve decided to adopt one. we pick her up tomorrow” giving a genuine, ever so loving, smile at the end of the long awaited sentence.

focused on your end of the table, his heart nearly exploded seeing your face go from suspense to pure joy. he couldn’t ask for anything more. you had began to let out an excited scream, only to contain yourself once the table next to you started to stare. however that didn’t stop you picking yourself up to meet the red head sitting across from you, smiling like a saint.

pulling him into a hug, you whispered “we’re really adopting a cat?” as your lips stood 2 inches away from his ear. his head pulled back from the embrace for a quick moment, only to confirm your statement with a nod of happiness.

standing there in pure bliss, fantasizing about your new life with your fur baby, you found yourself nearing crying from the overwhelming announcement. only to be brought back to reality once the waiter arrived with your meals. you pulled away, only slightly embarrassed, to become your feast.

“i’m glad you’re so excited” saeyoung spoke. god was all too good to him, he thought. you smiled, softly replying “thank you”. your eyes glanced up from your newly delivered meal to find your lover looking no different than a child being delivered delicious ice cream.

“shall we begin our meal then, 606?” he proposed. you nod, picking up the utensil placed to your right. creating the passage way for the two of you to continue your night full of bliss, no more, no less.

as you silently decided against an ass whooping as reasonable punishment.

BONUS: *on the way home*

“saeyoung” you begin, feeling the once scorching sun hit your revealed arm. “do you have a picture of our future daughter?” you ask. after receiving a gentle laugh, your eyes are met with your loves phone. once inspecting the picture, you could feel yourself melt on the spot.

“she’s adorable, isn’t she?” saeyoung asked, taking a notice of the way your eyes lit up like stars at midnight. with an aggressive yet playful nod of confirmation, in the next second he could feel the way your body pushed into his side, your arms wrapping around his torso.

“thank you so much” you let out, barely being heard from muffling yourself in your lovers flesh. although you couldn’t see it, you had a sense of saeyoungs current facial expression.

one full of excitement, love, passion, and warmth. he would treat this cat like his child, you were positive of it. and on the plus side, jumin wouldn’t have to worry about saeyoung trying to get a hold of elizabeth now.

in that moment, almost as if he heard your thoughts, he says “we should name her elizabeth the fourth, elly for short!”. there was the silly, child-like man you loved, you thought.

for the remainder of the late hours, you would be convincing saeyoung not to name her any variation of the name elizabeth the third. you knew for a fact that letting that name slide would result in a lawsuit by the morning.

elly the fourth did sound cute though... perhaps you should propose keeping it as a nickname for times jumin isn’t present.

---

3:07 AST - 07/22/21

#mystic messenger #mysme #mysme fanfic #saeyoung choi #saeyoung x mc #707 #mysme 707 #707 x mc #luciel choi #saeyoung

27 notes · View notes

permian-tropos · 3 years

Note

Daniil - Liberosis

Didn’t think this prompt word would become so poignant so soon. The subject matter wound up kind of surreal and taking whatever path I thought might be interesting but sometimes it’s nicer to let other people search for meaning in something.

IDK yeah I just wanted to publish this. Contains canon-typical misery.

Liberosis: The desire to care less about things.

It rains again, always with that damn rain, and inside of each puddle in the street is the reflection of a man with cold eyes. They’re a little bit sardonic, as if the protective cloth tied over his mouth obscures a world-weary smirk. They track movement deliberately, and never dart or flash.

When did this happen? When did his features freeze in place like this? It’s interesting. The last time Dankovsky saw his own reflection, he was burned out like a candle stub.

This is better. You’d rather see a second wind from the Capital doctor on his rounds, a man who cares less and does more, even if what he does isn’t much use to anyone. It’ll give people less reason to panic.

The plague is spreading on the wings of panic. That’s why the patrolmen show no mercy to the sick, those shambling mummies, when they stray into the streets.

Dankovsky never gave such an order. The man in the puddle wears his intentions well: But I wouldn’t countermand it.

When you think about it, the only way to fight the plague is to resist your natural human desire to seek help, or even the comforting touch of another; instead you must succumb in solitude, to save others.

The nature of epidemics really is to target the most precious aspects of our being…

“What do I do? What do I do? I’m lost…”

Dankovsky first expects that wheedling voice to come from a child, but it’s too knowing, like it’s playing a game.

Sometimes they’re called mimes, but they talk too much. They’re more amused by the circumstances than the name Tragedian suggests. Subconsciously, Dankovsky has gotten into the habit of treating them as if there is not a human under that patchwork black cloth, but paper stuffing, or an animated wire frame. They’re an oddly useless counterpart to the orderlies, and they certainly don’t answer to the Bachelor.

“One of you?” he sighs, backing up a few steps. “What do you want from me this time…? Get it over with.”

The masked man dawdling under the streetlamp tips its head slowly one way, then the other. “His Excellency thinks I spoke to him?”

“I’m the only one on the street. Unless you’re raving, in which case I have no time for lunatics.”

“How cruel. In any case… I’ve lost my mask.” The Tragedian shields its eye-holes from the rain with a hand, and looked far and wide.

“It’s right on your head,” Dankovsky grouses. “Now what’s my reward for finding it, a bag of marbles? Or wait, you’ve lost those too.”

“Oh, no, not this. This is my face. You see how blank and plain it is? It wants a character, a role to play. A mask, a mask.”

Dankovsky folds his arms. “What about playing a man who doesn’t leave his house… wherever he comes from, his burrow, his den, and doesn’t get himself into trouble?”

The Tragedian offers an apologetic shrug and spread palms. “I tried it but alas, it weren’t for me. I didn’t know my lines, and came too late…”

The Bachelor mutters, “You’ll be a dog soon – playing dead.”

“I’ve lost a mask of careless cruelty… I think it would be fun to wear a while. It grins at simple victories and doesn’t shed a tear for those less fortunate. I’d like to be the one who laughs in Hell…”

“Fine, I’ll look for something like that… I suppose.” It wasn’t the first bizarre request he’d taken, and been able to fulfill despite not understanding it at first. Whatever the Tragedian was looking for, it would turn up eventually.

Now the Tragedian was clasping its hands together, pleading. It was remarkably expressive for having, as it said, such a blank face. “But if perhaps you’d let me borrow yours…”

“That’s completely unsanitary.” What kind of idiot request was that?

“I mean the one behind the cloth, the visage that regards the world so icily…”

The Tragedian pokes an impudent, spidery finger right between the Bachelor’s eyebrows, which pinch together in great chagrin.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at… but I get the impression you’re not asking for a real object.” He slaps the finger away. “If you want to wear my face, playact all you like. Just don’t impersonate me to anyone important, or use my name for any stupid ventures. Or you’ll regret it.”

Dankovsky leaves the actor to mime out his gratitude, head fervently bowing, clasped hands pumping up and down. He’d expected to get something out of this exchange, but perhaps it’s a longer-term investment. Or it’ll be quite the farce when the thespian starts wandering around the town pretending to be him. He’s not sure what he’s given away.

Signal fires mark the start of an infected district. He tightens the cloth around his mouth and nose and rushes in. There’s one house in particular he has to visit, so he very much intends to keep his head down all the way there.

His ears are assaulted by wails of the dying, carried far even by stagnant windless air.

At first he doesn’t understand why his skin is prickling. Senseless paranoia.

I gave away my mask…

It doesn’t mean anything!

But something’s changed in him for sure.

Even though it’s illogical, he’s shivering like ice has been poured down his shirt.

His eyes catch movement and he jolts away at first, because he’s learned to flee whenever a human shape stumbles across his path in districts like these. One filthy touch from any of these walking corpses could pass on the infection.

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t come near me…”

“Help us…” the mummy gabbles. It’s sobbing under the linen wraps, but those cries might be of relief as well as pain. “Please, please, you’ve got to help us… I’ve been looking all over for a doctor… You’ve got pills, haven’t you? Kind sir… spare us something… even just a sleeping draught…”

Dankovsky should be fleeing, and he’s frozen instead. He should do the compassionate thing and put a bullet through this faceless cloth-wrapped head, and he cannot. He has the unsettling thought he would rather turn the gun on himself.

The supplicant takes his inaction as permission. Its hand has seized him and is crawling up his forearm, creeping as surely as a mold on a wall.

“There must be something…” the infected one pleads. “If only to… I just wanted to… oh, but it’s so… my head’s spinning… I can hardly hear myself, can you hear me? Am I speaking? Are you there?”

More dying souls are shambling out of the alleys and either they can smell healthy skin like sharks smell blood or they’re spotting him through the gauze over their eyes and immediately recognizing him. Two have emerged from behind one building… a third and fourth from a park…

The dead come to drag him down into the earth. Rain pours down his cheeks.

“Hey!”

There’s someone behind him, shouting, but he doesn’t realize it’s directed at him until—

“What do you think you’re doing, dummy? Dummy Dankovsky!”

“Hah?” He’s unstuck when that strident childish voice pierces his ears through the white noise.

In comes charging none other than the wandering saint girl, shoes pattering and splashing through the sodden pavement. She spreads her palms out like she’s pushing out a great wave of force from them, some kind of heavenly wind, and even though no immediate magic goes off with a theatrical bang and puff of smoke, the sickened townsperson withdraws.

Clara catches Dankovsky’s arm. Her grip is mighty steel.

“You didn’t think you could heal them with your touch, did you?” Her tone is either mocking or heartachingly sincere. She’s too peculiar to ever be one thing or another, so maybe it’s both. “Don’t… don’t get those funny ideas into your head, okay? You’ll make people worry about you…”

Of course he finds her words ironic, but not surprising. It’s the usual way that young people parrot the things they’ve been told by others, as a way of expressing concern.

Especially ironic now that she’s extending her free hand towards the bandaged wretch, with a strained but beatific smile, flashing white teeth. Her fingers unfurl, flexing, preparing for an incredible sleight-of-hand.

“Don’t be scared,” coaxes the Changeling. “I’ll take care of you!”

“Careful—!” the Bachelor croaks, voice stolen by panic. But he still waits with bated breath, wondering if he’s about to witness a miracle.

But as soon as Clara’s palm brushes the gauze-wrapped fingertips, the infected person’s hands turn to claws. They gasp and clutch their chest, rocking on their heels, head bobbing.

It’s almost as if they’re trying to express a profound devotion and love that cannot fit inside them. Then they exhale without a word, collapsing in a heap, like a thread over their head has been snipped.

Clara’s smile shrinks by millimeters. Water droplets slide off it, dropping from the corners of her lips.

“Why…?” Her query is a quiet chime, a small tolling bell.

“Leave it, leave it. It was a myocardial infarction,” Dankovsky mutters. “Plainly, a heart attack. It’s usual for them to die like this in the end… Perhaps they were startled by us… Overwhelmed by a moment of hope.”

“I thought I was the one who healed…” the girl says, eyes fogged with confusion. “I mixed it up… Even we can’t tell us apart anymore…?”

Damn this… The girl’s delusions are only going to worsen now. Whoever’s been letting her roam about without supervision needs to rethink their priorities. She used to irritate Dankovsky with her proud preaching, and he was afraid she’d be able to stir the town’s population into a fervor. They come out of their homes in search of her sometimes.

Still, it’s possible she’s been witnessing frightening things for days — or longer? who knows where she came from or what she’s suffered to be without a family now — and has convinced herself she must have a purpose. Whose mind doesn’t falter like that in the face of an insane world?

The Bachelor doesn’t think he’s nearly as paternal as his rough-and-tumble counterpart, the favorite of the orphan underclass, Burakh. But Burakh’s not here right now.

Dankovsky slings a strict enclosing arm around Clara’s shoulders.

“You didn’t do it, Clara…” he commands her to believe, as his heart keeps minutely panging in that new way that he’s not accustomed to. “Don’t think about it. Pull that ratty scarf over your mouth and nose and keep moving.”

She’s stumbling after him, reluctantly keeping apace. “But can’t you see I’m not her…?”

“Whoever you are, I don’t care,” Dankovsky mutters. He stares only ahead, at the distant waterlogged signal pyre marking the invisible border between poison and safety.

#my fics #pathologic #daniil dankovsky #clara saburova #tragedian (pathologic)

27 notes · View notes

stubbychaos · 4 years

Text

Princess

Summary: You and the Mandalorian relax and reflect after a long and tiring job on Cantonica.

Rated: Explicit for sexual content and language.

Word count: This was supposed to only supposed to be 2,000 words and it somehow turned into 5,700 because I wanted more chemistry between reader and Mando lol. There’s obviously an established relationship between them and I just wanted to, y’know, expand a little on that bc I’m a hopeless romantic.

Warnings: Brief mentions of reader being harassed by Burg. Other than that, this is mostly fluff and smut lol

Notes: This is literally the first time I’ve ever really written smut that I’m somewhat happy with and even though I’m terrified of putting it on Tumblr, I sincerely welcome any advice or constructive criticism. I just ask that you keep your comments somewhat polite because I’m a sensitive bitch lol. I have like half of a second part outlined if you guys want another chapter of this <3

You aren't sure where the sudden surge of audacity comes from as you and the Mandalorian make your way onto the Razor Crest after a long day of work on Cantonica.

You watch as he gingerly tucks the little one into his secret little cubby and closes it so he can sleep more peacefully; your heart swells in your chest at how gentle he always is with his foundling--his son. The sun is now setting over the horizon and a cool breeze wafted into the hull of the ship, causing your dress to flutter a little, ultimately exposing your thighs through the long slits in the dress you wear. Your long waves tickle your collarbones and you’re not used to exposing so much skin, the wide, dipped neckline coming to a stop right at your sternum. Despite the cool breeze that intrudes the normally stale atmosphere of the Razor Crest, your skin feels like it’s on fire as he turns to gaze at you through that unforgiving Beskar gaze, his eyes undoubtedly taking in all of the exposed skin that you only ever let him touch.

The beautiful dress you’re currently wearing had come in handy for a job in Canto Bight where the Mandalorian had been asked to capture a quarry that owed over a few thousand credits to an owner of a wealthy casino. It was the kind of job where you and the green bean had been dragged along for the ride, not having the choice of staying on the ship because Din had deemed it too dangerous to stay on the Razor Crest in such a populated city. It wasn’t often that the notorious bounty hunter urged you off the ship whenever he took a new job, but whenever he asked you to follow him to whatever destination his bounty was currently residing at, you knew it was imperative to listen to the Mandalorian.

The quarry he’d been hunting all day enjoyed frequenting a high class casino and while your Mandalorian’s Beskar armor already established him as a wealthy, notorious hunter--despite living from paycheck to paycheck most of the time--the flimsy fabric of the thin black tunic and leggings you usually wore weren’t up to standards with what an established woman should look like in a wealthy city like Canto Bight.

The thought of you trying to be an ‘established’ woman nearly makes you giggle, knowing damn well that there was nothing established and respectable about a young woman traipsing through the galaxy with a bounty hunter and a green toddler with astounding abilities.

You were sure you would never be Canto Bight’s expectation of a wealthy woman.

Not that you or Din cared, but that being said, you both knew you needed to blend in and he had surprised you months earlier with a dress that he had bought for you when they had been on Brentaal IV after a close call with a few Imps trying to take down the Crest. He had seen you eyeing the beautiful white fabric in the marketplace, tracing the hems and jeweled straps with admiration, though you had refused to buy it, insisting that you needed to save the credits for the baby and ship repairs. Realizing that you hardly ever spent your credits on little things for yourself, the Mandalorian had told you that he had some business to take care of and would meet up with you by the twilight hour--your favorite time of the day, no matter what planet they were on.

Needless to say, you had been in tears when you found the dress on your stiff cot later that night.

“Thank you for the dress,” You murmur and slowly approach him, stopping halfway when you finally notice the way he lowers his helmet with a slight tilt and you know he’s gazing at you attentively, “You never told me if you liked how I look in it. Do you think I look pretty in it, Din?”

He stares at you through the safety of his visor and you nearly rip off his helmet right then and there, though you restrain for the sake of whatever flushed expression he’s currently wearing on his scruffy face.

The white dress is pretty simple and falls to your ankles, slits going up to the middle of each thigh; the neckline of the collar exposes more cleavage than what you are used to and had been embroidered in a beautiful yellow floral pattern by a talented seamstress. Shimmering gems had been carefully sewed in the center of each yellow flower that seemed to shine brighter with the golden rays from the sunset that bathed you in its ethereal light. You had seen him glancing at you periodically throughout the evening and it wasn’t until the third time a man came up to where you had been standing at the bar--your eyes carefully scanning your surroundings as you held the curious green bean--that the Mandalorian decided to put you out of your misery and come to your aid. You had jumped a little upon feeling a familiar, leather-clad hand on the small of your back and was surprised to find that his helmet was tilted downwards a little more than it normally was when he would look at your face.

You wondered if he had been looking at your cleavage and the thought had you blushing the whole night.

“You look...” The Mandalorian lets out a strange noise that sounds garbled through his modulator and you hope it’s because he’s overwhelmed in the most pleasant way by what he sees through that emotionless visor. Typically, you weren’t one to fish for compliments, especially from him because you know that the normally stoic bounty hunter isn’t the best with sweet words, doing most of his talking when he has his head between your legs or his cock buried deep inside of you.

Most of what he usually says is either incoherent babbling or hushed compliments in his native tongue, not that you ever mind his inept way with words when it comes to certain matters. Something about watching a fearless Mandalorian--someone that most felt an overwhelming sense of fear just upon sight--getting nervous when talking about his feelings or giving you compliments always reminds you just how human he was.

He was endearing without even realizing it most of the time.

Your scruffy Mandalorian had shyly admitted numerous times in the year and a half you’d been working for him that he found you to be physically beautiful, but the thought of someone genuinely finding your personality and soul attractive made your toes curl and your cheeks heat up. The intimidating bounty hunter always insists that you meant a lot to not only the kid, but to him as well, and even though you had been initially hired to take care of his foundling, you found yourself taking care of the reckless bounty hunter as well.

Where once he would begrudgingly admit he didn’t need your help, he slowly started to cave in and grew warmer towards you whenever you would bring him a warm, cooked meal to the cockpit, rather than a cold ration bar. Gratitude would fill his voice whenever you would treat his wounds with soft hands, numbing gel, and precise stitches if they were out of bacta, rather than making him take care of it himself with an old cauterizer that caused him unnecessary pain. Instead of constantly feeling exhausted because he rarely got to sleep consistently before you showed up, he taught you how to pilot the ship and would let you take care of navigating the Crest while you took care of his mischievous foundling so he could get some rest after a particularly rough job.

He always insists that you need to look after yourself more, but you’ve never had a family of your own and you want to take care of the tiny clan that the Maker had for whatever reason blessed you with.

You want to take care of the man that had given you a job when you had been at your lowest, along with a sense of purpose and hope for the future.

You want to take care of the only human being that has ever truly loved you.

Din makes his way closer to you, his footsteps slow and he seems to hesitate before he takes his gauntlets and gloves off and lets them fall to the floor with a loud clunk; you’ve been with him for so long, yet he still sometimes fears he’s going to accidentally hurt you, as if you were made of cracked glass. A bare hand reaches out for you and you feel courageous and beautiful as you stare up at him, shivering with delight when his calloused fingers brush along the thin strap that had kept falling off your shoulder all day and evening, his palm moving up to cup your jaw with the utmost softness instead. He leans his helmet down a little when you stand on your tippy toes, a smile spreading across your lips when you feel the cold press of his Beskar forehead against your bare one--a Mandalorian’s version of an affectionate, tender kiss--and the two of you remain like that for a few peaceful moments.

“May I?” You murmur politely with a tilt of your head when your fingers cautiously curl under the lip of his helmet, only lifting the heavy Beskar off his head when he nods his approval with a small chuckle, making you pout a little. Despite being his wife and owning the privilege of seeing his face when you two are alone, you can’t stop yourself from always asking him if you can remove his helmet and armor, or instinctively closing your eyes when he removes himself in the cockpit or his private quarters. You had convinced yourself for such a long time after being hired by him that you’d never see the stoic Mandalorian’s face, let alone watch him bare it willingly to you.

How he had certainly proved you wrong about that.

Stars… he always seemed to surprise you and you loved him even more for it.

Thinking about it now--given everything you two had been through together--you find it funny that you had once been intimidated by the fearless bounty hunter and had struggled to even meet the expressionless gaze of his helmet. For at least the first month, you would merely stare at his shiny cuirass whenever he would ask about his foundling after he would come back from a job, only answering in a meek voice until he seemed satisfied. Suspecting he wasn’t much of a talker, you were more than happy to sit in silence in the hull of the Crest, just past where he kept bounties in carbonite, and you would only venture up to the cockpit to put the child in his pram or give your boss a warm meal.

It wasn’t until the Mandalorian had defended you against the terrifyingly huge Devaronian, Burg, and the rest of Ran’s band of misfits that had been assigned to help Mando on a job, that you found yourself trusting him more.

Your face grows warm as you remember how furious Din had been when he’d climbed down from the cockpit to find you backed up into a corner near the armory, shaking with fear as the Devaronian inspected you with a massive hand painfully squeezing your cheeks hard enough to bruise your sensitive skin while the rest of the team cruelly taunted you. The Mandalorian had immediately expressed his anger--his fury--as he easily ripped the massive man away from you, slamming him into the metal ladder before crushing him into the secret compartment where he normally kept the child hidden against unwanted visitors.

You remember how frantic he had sounded when the group eventually departed the ship, his voice only softening when he noticed the tears in your eyes and the shame burning bright in your red cheeks as you weakly apologized to him, though the shame belonged to Burg--something he would later remind you of after having a bad nightmare of the whole incident. At the time, Mando had merely shaken his helmet at the tremble in your voice before urging you and the child to stay in his private quarters, despite you never being allowed in there.

He had left you on the ship with the untrustworthy droid, but not before cautiously cupping his leather palm to your sore, crimson cheek, your eyes finally meeting his visor for the first time as his thumb traced your cheekbone and the gentle slope of your nose with a pleasant touch that was far softer than the ruthless Devaronian’s.

You found it easier to look at his helmet after that, finally trusting the quiet Mandalorian after he had physically shown how protective he was over you two.

“Ner kar’ta,” Din breathes out before leaning down to press his lips to yours and you immediately melt at how he always kisses you so passionately and slowly after taking his helmet off at the end of the day, like a moon slowly beckoning gentle waves to a sandy shore. You briefly wonder if he’s the ocean and you’re his moon, lighting up his dark, endless nights and you know he wouldn’t hesitate to cause destruction and chaos if you unwillingly disappeared or someone dared to even think about harming you

You shudder when he moves his other hand to the Beskar pendant that hangs between your collarbones and you listen to the soft sigh that leaves his modulator at the implication of the familiar, mudhorn signet that shows the galaxy that you belong to his little clan. In a similar gesture, your hand finds his pauldron as he gazes at you with intense reverence while you carefully trace the outline of the signet as if it’s going to break despite being made of Beskar; you don’t even realize you’re smiling so fondly, tears threatening to burn your eyes.

‘The Djarin Clan…’

This was the only family you ever had and he reminded you nearly every day that even though the green bean wasn’t theirs by blood, it made him no less of a son.

‘Aliit ori'shya tal'din…’

You never doubted him for one moment.

Din seems a little startled when you gently grab his wrist, his helmet tilting up a little to look into your eyes through his visor, probably worrying that he had already done something wrong even though he’s merely grazing your collarbones and shoulders so tenderly.

He doesn’t seem to realize that you want more and you know it won’t take long to get him to be a little rougher with you--just the way you both enjoy it after a particularly taxing job.

A strange, delighted noise comes from the back of his throat when you firmly guide his hand lower, his fingers splayed wide and you feel your eyelids flutter a little when his calloused fingers graze the swell of your breasts underneath the beautiful dress. The two of you both let out a little moan when you gently maneuver his hand further down underneath the scooped neckline until his rough hand is firmly palming your breast. Immediately, your nipple peaks from the familiar sensation and he tilts his heated gaze to regard the half-lidded, blissful expression on your flushed face.

He can sense the yearning rolling off of you in waves and you know it by the way his thick cock twitches against your thigh.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” He groans, not sure whether you are talking about the dress or your body, but he doesn’t seem to care at that moment, only saying what comes to his mind, “That dress is… you’re an angel--with or without it.”

“Something tells me that you prefer to see me without it.”

“It doesn’t matter to me what you are or aren’t wearing, mesh’la,” His voice is barely there and it almost sounds similar to the occasional crackle that leaves his modulator; you can’t help but to squeeze your thighs at how raspy he sounded, “I fucking want you all the time.”

Slowly, you brush the thin straps down your shoulders and arms, not tearing your eyes away from his face as the swishy material pools at your feet and leaves you vulnerable in front of him.

The first time he’d seen you like this, you had felt self conscious and had tried so hard to cover yourself from him, not sure if he would like what you had to offer.

Now, as he lowers his head a little and stares with half-lidded eyes at all of the flushed skin he wants to explore with his fingers and his mouth--despite memorizing the map of your body long ago--you feel like the most beautiful woman in the galaxy. Your body is completely nude, save for the tiny white shorts that leave nothing to the imagination and the pendant he had given you long ago that rests between your collarbones.

His rich brown eyes meet your sparkling ones before flickering up to the silver circlet crown that rests loosely around your head, the beautiful metal adorned with jeweled stars and a crescent moon that rests against your skin just inches above the center of your brows. A matching armlet that he had gotten for you as a late birthday present was wrapped around your bicep, the diamond encrusted stars shining brightly in the remnants of the vividly rose gold sunset that filters into the Crest. You had been mad at him at the time for spending his credits on something so materialistic, though he insisted that he had more than enough credits after turning in a high class criminal with a hefty price on his head.

You never took the beautiful gift off and it always warranted unrelenting teasing from your partner.

“Never gonna get tired of you. So beautiful, ner riduur," He whispers in a strained tone and you merely continue to stare up at him with those wide eyes as his warm hands graze your bare shoulders and arms, his fingers lightly tracing your beloved armlet, “These stars could only ever hope to be as beautiful as you are,” He continues when you blush furiously from the charming compliment, “They could only wish to shine as brightly as you do.”

Tears form in your eyes and you don’t know why, but you suspect that the pure tenderness of his gravelly voice has something to do with it. You’re not sure what to say as he cradles your cheeks and gazes at you in a way that is somehow softer and sweeter than the compliments he had just showered you with, so you silently let him caress your warm cheeks for a few moments before his mouth is on yours again.

“Mesh’la,” He coos, saying it over and over as he kisses the corner of your mouth before his lips find purchase against your jaw instead.

You half expect him to remove the pieces of jewelry, but he merely skims his lips along the underside of your jawline in search of the spot that he had long ago discovered was sensitive. A needy whimper beckons him to sink his teeth into the delicate skin and you can feel his cock twitch against your belly as whimpers turn into heavy moans when he makes sure to leave a deep mark behind.

“You look like a fucking princess with that crown,” Din groans against the slope of your neck as he corrects himself, “No, you look like a queen and they all thought so too,” he informs you, leaving another crimson mark that would later turn into a bruise at the curve of your shoulder, “Bet all of those dirty men in that casino would have bowed at your feet just to get a taste of you, cyar’ika.”

You huff out a laugh at the jealousy tainting his usually cool and calm voice, though it quickly dies down and is replaced with a choked sob when he drops his head to nip the swell of your breast. Immediately, you drag a hand up between the defined valleys of his shoulder blades and up his nape; a shudder wracks your body when he brings a hard nipple between his teeth before soothing it with his tongue.

“Something tells me you wouldn’t have let that happen.”

“Would have fucked you in front of all them to get the point across,” his hands grip your hips so tightly that you’re sure they’ll bruise and the thought makes you warm and wet, “That casino was too disgusting for someone as beautiful as you to be in--too disgusting to fuck you in that pretty white dress.”

You grab his cheeks firmly, efficiently halting him from where he was currently grazing a constellation of freckles underneath your breast, and bring his scruffy face up until his parted lips are pressing against yours, his tongue licking into the hot tavern of your mouth. The kiss is nothing like the one you two shared earlier when you had taken off his helmet, instead, it’s now sloppy and dirty; it’s a silent promise that he’s going to wreck you in the most pleasurable way.

Much to your amusement, Din pouts a little when you pull away from him before you playfully tease him by taking his earlobe between your teeth, causing his already rough grip on your hips to grow slightly painful. He learned long ago that you didn’t mind it, that even though everyone perceived you to be tiny and meek, you were anything but when it was the two of you behind closed doors.

“Yet you’ll have your way with me against the wall of this dirty ship,” You remind him, amused by the grunt he lets out as you tug his earlobe a little painfully.

He traces his hands down your hips and roughly grips the soft globes of your ass, pulling you flush against him until all you can feel is cold Beskar steel and a cock against your belly that feels just as unyielding.

It leaves you lightheaded.

“Tell me then, mesh’la,” He pins you until the middle of your back is pressed up against a long shelf bolted to the wall and your heart pulses with anticipation, “Where would you prefer me to fuck you on our ship?”

You mewl faintly when he grabs your sore hips again, effortlessly lifting you until you’re sitting on the long metal shelf bolted to the wall and he’s surprisingly cordial enough for once to not tear your shorts straight down the middle, instead helping you to shuffle them down your legs before unceremoniously launching them in the general direction of your discarded dress. Your breath hitches when he remains kneeling down where your feet are currently dangling in front of his face and he makes quick work to remove your strappy sandals, untying the thin leather straps from around your calves and letting it fall to your ankles. A single dimple appears on his scruffy cheek when he removes the sandals completely and watches as you lightly roll your ankles around now that they’re not restrained and being chafed by rough leather.

“You never answered my question, princess,” He places a tender kiss against the inside of your sore ankle and you think it’s the first time he’s ever called you that, but it makes you grow wetter and your cheeks burn like coals as your cunt flutters and clenches around nothing, “Where would you rather be right now? You don’t want to be pressed up against this wall with my face between your thighs--eating that pretty pussy?”

“I quite liked the--Din!” You whine and squirm when he roughly nips your lower thigh, just above the inside of your knee where he somehow discovered long ago was another sensitive spot, “I uh, the c-cockpit was kinda fun, yeah?”

He huffs out an amused sigh against your smooth skin and as he continues his tortuously delicious ascent, you don’t hesitate to wrap your thighs around his scruffy face when he gets dangerously close to the apex of your thigh, “Yeah, until you fell onto the control pad and almost blew up the damn ship.”

“That w-was--” A sharp bite at your lower hip is a warning, one that you choose to ignore in hopes he’ll punish you, “Your fault for making me ride you backwards.”

His mustache tickles and burns your skin as he moves his head until he’s just centimeters from your throbbing clit, “Thought you’d like to see the stars while you fuck yourself on my cock, princess.”

You open your mouth to backsass the stubborn Mandalorian, but all that comes out is a breathless sob as his mouth covers that little bundle of nerves that he seems so obsessed with every time he ends up with his head between your legs. When the two of you had first started becoming intimate, even before he had asked you to be his ridduur and you two had taken your vows, Din had always been so insistent on tasting you and could do it for hours on end if he had it his way. It must pertain to him wearing the helmet for so long and never having the opportunity to be selfish and take it off during sec, you briefly think before he licks a hot stripe up your slit and ultimately lands back on your clit.

You nearly lose all thought as your fingers thread through his curls, damp with sweat from donning his helmet all day, though you don’t care and hold on tightly to keep him in place, “P-Princess? I thought you said I looked like a queen.”

He removes his mouth and before you can whimper at the agonizing loss, you’re stretched around two of his thick fingers and you nearly concuss yourself when you throw your head against the wall behind you, feeling his lips curve into a smile against your belly button before his tongue grazes the tiny divot in your abdomen. You don’t know whether to moan or laugh--what with his fingers curling so deep inside of your slick heat, but his tongue teasing such a ticklish spot on your body--and the noise that comes out of you is an awkward whine of a chuckle. His shoulders shake under the back of your thighs and you know that smug asshole is laughing at you.

“You always look like a queen, mesh’la,” He’s still laughing breathlessly as he slips a third finger inside of your intense warmth, making you painfully arch your back at the delightful stretch of his thick digits, “Sometimes you act like a bratty princess though, especially when it’s just us.”

“Maybe I--” You think he’s ignoring you as he lowers his head and roughly grabs your hips, drawing you forward until you’re about to fall off the shelf before eagerly spreading your thighs wider to get a better look--a better taste--of you, “M-Maybe your attitude rubbed off on me.”

His unforgiving fingers dig into your thighs and you yelp at the punishing gesture, your own fingers curling tightly into his unruly curls when he licks so deep inside of you that it makes you lose your breath. The Mandalorian is good at punishing you in the most pleasurable way, coaxing you to the brink of your orgasm before pulling back and leaving you crying from desperation; it’s something that you simultaneously love and hate, though it’s mostly the former. You try desperately to wrap your thighs around his head, but the esteemed bounty hunter refuses to let you have it your way and tauntingly spreads your legs wider, earning him a loud whine and a painful tug at his hair.

“Din, please!” You cry out when he eases the pressure off of your clit and his fingers slow down, “Please, please--”

He barely lifts his head, but it’s enough to make a tear trickle down your cheek from the loss of his talented mouth, “What’s wrong, princess?” He chuckles when you clench around his fingers upon hearing the new pet name he’s bestowed upon you and you want to slap that smug, dimpled grin off of his stupid stubbly face, “Suddenly you decide to have manners? Is this all I had to do to get you to say please and thank you? Shove my fingers in your wet--”

“Just fuck me already,” You wail, eyes screwed shut as he curls his finger deep inside you and the muscles in your thighs tense as you desperately chase your release, “Please! I need to… I need you to…”

Your voice trails off with a needy cry when he huffs out an amused chuckle against your sensitive skin, “You’re gonna cum in my mouth and then you’re going to thank me for it, princess, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yes, I promise! Just--”

He cuts you off by burying his face against your pussy and you cry from relief when he lets you squeeze your thighs around his head, further muffling the mouthy Mandalorian and his sweet praises. The bounty hunter can be cruel sometimes, but you’ve learned that if you beg or cry hard enough, he’ll almost always give you what you want--what you need--and he always knows how to give it to you. Always eager to please, Din had learned pretty quickly where you liked to be kissed and licked, how hard to press his fingers or thumb to your clit, when you wanted to be fucked hard or when you wanted him to make love to you. Your riduur knew how to make you squirm just by saying sweet praises to you in that low, guttural voice and he knew how to bring you to the brink of pleasure with his mouth alone.

You don’t even realize you’ve closed your eyes until you hear--and feel--Din moaning against your cunt and you pry your eyelids open to gaze at your lover.

The sight of him leaves you wrecked and heaving, eyes landing on the thick and achingly hard cock he’s currently fisting in a tight grip, his own eyes closed in bliss. Something about him getting off to the pleasure he’s inflicting upon your trembling body has your cunt clamping down like a tight glove around his fingers and you curl forward to press your hands into his broad shoulders.

“Right there,” You let out a breathless sob when his fingers curl deeply inside of your slick heat, “F-Fuck, right there. Please don’t stop.”

His hand pumps his length faster and more erratically at the sound of the desperation in your voice, pre-cum leaking from the tip when you tighten your thighs around his head and your nails dig into his taut shoulders, leaving red scratches in their wake. Tears are threatening to fall down your cheeks from all the overwhelming sensations and emotions--from the way his own moans and whimpers grow desperate as he continues to taste and lap at your pussy like it’s a tall glass of water and he’s been trekking through a Tatooine desert for weeks on end.

“I’m gonna--”

“Fuck, d-do it, princess,” He finally opens his eyes, though they’re still half-lidded and filled with desire as he observes the way you’re unraveling beneath his mouth and hands. You lose yourself in him and the way he attentively coaxes you closer and closer to your sweet release, your hair standing up pin straight on the back of your neck as the muscles in your thighs grow unbelievably tense and sore, despite your lover being nowhere near done with you for the night.

His thumb swirls the few beads of pre-cum over the head of his cock and down his length, his rich brown eyes never leaving yours, and you’re absolutely done for.

If you weren’t so wrapped up in the way you convulsed around his thick fingers or how sensitive your throbbing clit felt between his lips, you would have been more mindful of how tightly you squeezed your thighs around his head or how hard your nails dragged along his shoulders. You felt like such a greedy little thing as you focused on how good he was making you feel and how easy it was for him to make you cum in his mouth, seeming to care more about your needs than his own as he fervently stroked his hard cock.

“There you go, mesh’la,” He groans when your toes curl so tightly that cramps threaten to numb your feet and your head falls back against the steel wall, mouth agape as your body simultaneously grows numb and burns with absolute bliss. You’re not even aware of how you’re pathetically repeating his name like a desperate prayer--like you’re suffering and he’s the only one that can stop the pain.

You suppose he is the only one that can relieve the intense ache and he has no qualms in doing so, gladly guiding you through it all and offering you sweet praises as tense muscles eventually relax around his head and your hands move up his neck to gently stroke the curls there. Tears are shimmering in your eyes as he easily kisses his way up your stomach, earning a breathless whimper that sounds similar to a chuckle as he rubs his stubbly cheek against your belly button.

Your chest is still heaving when he carefully guides you off the sturdy shelf and you’re grateful for his strong arms as you nearly buckle under the weight of your shaking legs, already feeling sore as he lifts you until your thighs are wrapped around his hips instead. How he has the strength to hold you up after all of that, you have no idea, but you don’t complain when he gracefully carries you to the cot that you used to sleep on before you found yourself crawling into his private quarters more often than you should have.

As he gently lies you down on the uncomfortable surface of the stiff padding, you remember his words from earlier when you had been begging him to let you cum around his fingers--in his mouth.

Din covers your relaxed body with his much larger one and you’re quick to press your lips against his earlobe, making sure not to break your promise from earlier.

“Thank you, my riduur.”

He huffs out something reminiscent of a laugh against the curve of your neck, “Don’t know why you’re thanking me when I haven’t even begun.”

Ner kar’ta= My heart

Aliit ori'shya tal'din= Family is more than blood

Ner riduur= My partner, spouse, husband, wife

Cyar’ika= Darling, sweetheart

Mesh’la= Beautiful

#mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #my writing #im so sorry if this is shit lol #it's literally all just foreplay #loool oh well

250 notes · View notes

marshmallowprotection · 3 years

Note

Wait omg im blind i didnt realize ur requests were open-

Okay if this has already been done, sorry!! and can i have link :3?

Anyways-

Acsjdbk feel like this is so typical of me but- headcanons or somethin for like,, an MC on Saeran's route but she only loves saeran platonically and instead loves seven romantically?? Thinking, saeran's AE n all too... hh

Aaacgh i feel like i had more than this vague thought but maybe i didnt? Sorry if this doesnt make any sense, im getting a migraine ^^;;

[417]

I still am a huge saeran simp okay but saeyoung saeyoung saeyoung-

Saeyoung can say in no uncertain terms that he admires your total commitment and your utter tenacity.

Your loyalty and drive to protect those that are closest to you is something that he admires and respects. He can see how much the friendship that you have with his brother means to you and he can see how much it means to his brother. You were there for him when he wasn't able to do that and for that he will be forever grateful.

He cannot put into words how grateful he is for you and he isn't sure that he'll ever be able to repay you for what you've done.

There are a million words of gratitude on his lips but when he starts to say them it gets a little overwhelming and he knows that in the scheme of things you understand everything that he's trying to say when he looks at you. It feels like you just understand.

He can remember when he got to know you back for all of this started and there was just something about you that he felt drawn to. There's just something about your natural energy that makes him gravitate towards you, and he actually thinks that it's something that makes everyone look towards you.

The world is ultimately a better place because of Someone Like You existing. At first he thought your relationship with his brother was something inherently romantic. Seemed that way with how affectionate the two of you are together. So, it definitely came as quite the surprise to him when you admitted that you weren't dating him.

That didn't make a lick of sense to him. It seemed like the two of you should be together. Well it wasn't his business anyway. He was just glad that you were there for his brother.

What wasn't a surprise was definitely the way that he felt about you.

Your courage, your bravery, and your undeniable ability of seeing things right through the surface down to the Deep Abyss. All of these things were just a little piece of the reasons why he felt himself drawn to you. At first, he tried to suppress those feelings because he didn't want to make things weird even though he knew that you were just friends with his brother. So much just happened so there wasn't a rush to push himself into something or make a fuss about anything.

But there was no denying a lingering gazes that he sent your way. Nor was there any way to avoid the fact that he tried to spend as much time with you as humanly possible.

Your laughter and your smile made him feel electrified. It was like he hadn't been alive until that moment that he met you.

He is tongue-tied and making a fool of himself in front of you all of the time just to impress you and get your attention. Everyone can see that he definitely has feelings for you except for you as far as he can tell. He spends countless hours talking to you about what you've been through and your feelings on everything.

He wants to unlock and decode everything that makes you, you. His brother definitely got a head start on him. Does it seem ridiculous that he has to go to his brother for advice? Because, he definitely has to talk to Saeran for help.

And with an exasperated expression on his face his brother and does by, and say simply "I really thought you would ask sooner. It's been a little bit ridiculous watching you lately."

He probably deserves that because he didn't make a fool of himself. He gets to confide in his brother about his feelings for you and the two of them get to really talk about the impression that you have made on the both of their lives and what you mean to them.

Saeyoung knows that you are irreplaceable and kind, and Saeran knows he wants you in his life however you can be.

They both talk late into the night about the best way to make this work out for you and Saeyoung.

Saeran ultimately wants to see you happy and if that means that you're with his brother, then he's happy for you. He doesn't know why you choose someone as ridiculous as him but he still supports you,and he still supports brother to the end. He would definitely play a confident wingman.

It's definitely something they both put together and put a lot of thought into, it's probably a maze of ideas sequestered together.

If you want to imagine a Discovery Quest that is meant to take you on a journey throughout the city and lead you to an evening with Saeyoung, then you're right to think that. It's personalized in a very well-thought-out way. It's kind of sweet to see how much work was put into it.

A relationship with Saeyoung in this situation is one built on the foundation of people finding themselves and learning that it's okay to love yourself and it's okay to find someone that you never expected to love somewhere along the way.

35 notes · View notes

trashmenofmarvel · 4 years

Text

Branded - Chapter 19

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky make the drive back home where he’s introduced to the family as your fake boyfriend. Absolutely everything is going to go great.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by @araniaart . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Domestic fluff

Word Count: 3.8k

AO3

The trip from New York to Boston was four hours filled with awkward silence. The only sounds to punctuate the tension were those of the drive itself, the hum of the engine, the sound of the windshield wipers, and the hiss of tires on wet pavement.

It was snowing fairly heavily, so when Bucky had offered to drive, you hadn’t given it a second thought. Chances of icy roads were high, and you figured he probably had some fast demon reflexes he could rely on to get you there safely.

Plus, it gave you an excuse to sneak subtle glances while he drove. Bucky was distractedly handsome in profile, and you wondered if he understood just how attractive he was. Even with his demon features hidden, tucked away under a kind of magical illusion you still didn’t understand, there was something about him that was… different. Like he was just a little too perfect to exist in the real world.

Or maybe you had it worse than you thought. You had half-hoped your feelings for him after the heigore attack had been the result of your close brush with death. That you had just been overwhelmed with gratitude and your self-confession had been a mistake. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case, and with each feeding you were only falling deeper in love with Bucky.

This trip, having him spend time with your family, in your childhood home, was only going to make it worse.

Shit.

The click of the turn signal drew you from your thoughts, and you looked out the snow-battered windshield to find the car exiting on the off-ramp. You hadn’t been paying attention but Bucky had known which exit to take without your guidance. An overwhelming mixture of emotions bubbled in your chest. You didn’t know what to do with them.

Ten minutes of navigating the streets of suburban Boston and you reached your destination. Bucky pulled up to the curb, put the car in park, and turned off the ignition. You couldn’t stop staring up at the two-story house, looking quaint and delicate covered in fresh snow. You hadn’t been here since last Christmas, and you didn’t know how to feel about it now. Too many things had happened and you weren’t the same. The last person who had walked into that house was a stranger to you now.

“Ready?”

Maybe he sensed your trepidation because Bucky’s question was soft and patient. You gave him a quick nod, unable to meet his eye. If you did, you’d start blushing all over again, reminded of how insane this plan was. But it was your plan, and if anything you were stubborn enough to see it through.

You got out of the car, immediately shivering and pulling your coat tighter around you as the snowflakes hit your face. You quickly opened the backseat and pulled out the carrier, shielding it with your body so poor Monster wouldn’t get pelted with snow.

You had always taken Monster on you with trips back home, and this would be no exception, even when Bucky had told you ‘the little beast can make it there on his own.’ When you asked what he meant, he’d tried to explain interdimensional travel through ‘wrinkles in physical space’ but your brain had shut off around that point. It had sounded more like a Tony Stark thing than hobgoblin magic, but what the hell did you know about cracks in the foundation of the physical realm?

Hurrying up to the front step, you shivered and scraped your boots on the doormat. You were just about to reach up to the doorbell when a strong arm wrapped around your shoulders.

You looked up at Bucky and he gave you a raised, amused brow. Right. Stage one of your plan and you’d already forgotten. Operation: Pretend to Have a Hot Boyfriend Who is Clearly Way out of Your League.

With an arm still slung around your shoulder Bucky reached up and pressed the doorbell. You clutched the carrier nervously, swallowing as the chimes echoed inside the house, accompanied by the sound of barking.

You’d forgotten Uncle Walter was bringing one of his dogs.

Shit. Shit.

Bucky stiffened beside you and your heart raced in panic. What if the dogs could sense he was a demon? They could tell these things, couldn’t they? Monster seemed to like Bucky, but he wasn’t a typical cat, and you were realizing you might be in over your head way more than you had originally thought—

The door swung open and you were pulled into a pair of warm arms in a tight hug before you could open your mouth to say hi. Bucky managed to retrieve the carrier from your hand as your mother hugged you tightly, squeezing the rest of the air out of your lungs.

“I missed you so much, sweetie! How was the drive? Did you have any trouble getting here? They said it was going to snow at least five inches and I know your car doesn’t handle the snow. You really should buy a new one, I keep telling you to—Oh, hello. You must be Jacob.”

Your mother finally released you, allowing you to breathe and try to sort out her whirlwind of questions, but all you could do was watch with a pounding heart as she turned to face Bucky.

You’d planned out most of the details of your fake relationship on the drive over. How long you’d been dating, where you’d met, etc. etc. It helped that Bucky already had a false identity that any of your family could look up if they wanted to (and they would, knowing how nosey they were), but…

…it didn’t prepare you for the actual encounter. Bucky had assured you he could handle himself, but now you were terrified. Not for your family for having a demon in their midst, but for the poor demon that was about to be exposed to the embarrassment that was your family.

“I am, ma’am,” Bucky said with a smooth, charming smile full of white teeth. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

You blinked. The person you were looking at wasn’t Bucky. Or if it was, he was a Bucky you didn’t know. There was a bright, sincere smile on his face, lighting up his blue eyes in ways you didn’t think was possible. He held out his hand to her, the absolute picture of a polite gentleman, and you didn’t recognize the grump, cantankerous demon you’d come to know at all.

Your mom broke into a smile herself, something you’d never seen her do with a stranger before.

“Oh, come here, give me a hug.”

Before you could say anything, she drew Bucky into a tight hug, leaving you stunned and speechless. She had never warmed up to any of the (few) boyfriends you’d brought home, and now she was embracing him like Bucky was…

…part of the family.

Oh, no.

What was possibly worse was the vaguely amused smile Bucky was giving you over her shoulder. You couldn’t blame him; the look on your face was probably quite the sight.

By the time your mother pulled back from the hug, Bucky’s charming poster boy smile was back on his face. Where he’d learned to do that, you had no idea, but your mother seemed immediately enamored.

Greeting Aunt Rena and Uncle Walter next was more intense. Not because of them, they were both sweet and welcoming to Bucky, but because of the dog. They’d left most of their small herd of Chihuahuas at home, thankfully, and Uncle Walter had only brought the one—his oldest. She was an ancient thing, white fur covering her face, but she ran up to Bucky as if she had very important business to attend to.

Bucky froze as if the dog was a Doberman and not a wad of fur that barely weighed five pounds. She sniffed at the toes of his boots, and then his ankles, unable to reach higher, and she stared up at him through big glassy eyes.

When you sure she was about to start growling or barking, warning the humans of the demon amongst them, she jumped up onto her hind legs and scratched at his leg, wagging her tail and drawing her lips back into a doggy grin.

“Honey never likes anyone,” Aunt Rena said with a startled look at your uncle before looking back to Bucky. “You must be a dog-person.”

Bucky had knelt down and cautiously put his right hand forward after pulling off the glove. He kept his demonic arm covered, and would have to do so for the entire trip, but he let the dog sniff his human hand.

When he went to pet her, she jumped up and licked his chin, startling a laugh out of him. Like all the other rare times you’d heard him laugh, it left you warm and flushed and gawking like an idiot.

“Yeah, I used to be,” Bucky answered, still smiling. He had pulled the little Chihuahua into his arms where she squirmed happily, still trying to lick his face. “Haven’t had a dog in a few years.”

There was a hint of wistful sadness there so faint you wondered if anyone else but you noticed. You hoped they didn’t. It was stupid and childish, but you were starting to feel… jealous? Left out? Over the fact everyone adored your fake boyfriend, and he seemed to like them back.

“I’m going to go get the bags,” you said, setting down Monster’s carrier and opening the door. The hobgoblin sauntered his way out of the cage and peered around as if looking over his kingdom.

Honey hunkered down in Bucky’s arms, trembling and whining at the sight of the pseudo-cat. The dogs had always been terrified of Monster, even though he’d largely ignored them, and now you knew why. Apparently they were fine with demons, but hobgoblins went too far.

“I’ll grab them,” Bucky immediately volunteered with an easy smile, setting the Chihuahua gently on the ground. You narrowed your eyes at him, seeing right through his attempts to win over your family, which was exactly what he was supposed to be doing. So why were you suddenly so annoyed about it?

“Be right back.”

Bucky kissed you on the head before retreating out the front door, and just like that, your annoyance was gone and filled instead with mortifying embarrassment when all three adults gave you various expressions of affectionate fondness and teasing.

You didn’t know if anyone had ever died from being kissed on the forehead, but if not, you were going to be the first.

Bucky brought in the bags and your mother directed him up to the guest bedroom. You were trapped downstairs for the next half hour with the obligatory catching up with your family, which was a trial even during the best of times, let alone right now when you were desperate to get away to talk to Bucky. He hadn’t come back downstairs since putting away the bags, and you’d wondered where he’d disappeared to.

Sure, they were your family, but you didn’t want to have to suffer with them alone.

When you were able to finally excuse yourself, pointedly ignoring your mother’s curious look, you went upstairs and found Bucky in the guest bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his expression blank and far away. The snow in his hair had melted and dried, leaving his long brown strands slightly wavy.

“Bucky?”

He drew in a sharp breath and looked up at you, blinking before rubbing his face.

“Sorry. Was… lost in thought. I didn’t mean to—I can come down if—“

You interrupted him by sitting beside him on the bed, close enough for your arm to brush his, but you didn’t reach out to touch him. You had a suspicion as to what had happened, and your stomach churned uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry about my family. They’re a little weird at first, but they mean well. I can tell them to lay off if they’re being too much.”

To your surprise, Bucky merely smiled. It was close-lipped and soft, but somehow still warm. Once you met his eye you couldn’t look away, and a part of you wondered if he realized the hold he had on you. A power that had nothing to do with demon pacts and bonds.

“It’s not that. Your aunt and uncle are wonderful, and your mom is… She reminds me of my own mother.”

It took everything in your power not to reach out and hug him, and you gripped the edge of the better tighter so you wouldn’t.

“What’s wrong, then?”

Bucky chewed his lip and looked away. It wasn’t until his gaze fell on the closet on the opposite side of the room that it finally clicked for you.

“Oh.” The breath rushed out of you as if you’d been gut-punched. “I didn’t… think to warn you.”

Of all the things you could have forgotten, how could you forget to tell him you would be staying in your old room? The room where he’d first come through the portal. Where the pact had first been made. Where you’d first met in an encounter you didn’t remember, the memories taken away by Buck himself?

“This is where your bed used to be,” he said, slightly patting the mattress you were both sitting on. “Only it was sideways against the wall. You had a dresser over there. Some kind of poster on that wall; I think it had dinosaurs on it. And…”

His brows furrowed but a small smile touched his lips. “A large stuffed animal cat in that corner. You really liked cats, didn’t you?”

You hunched your shoulders, but it was too late to stop the warmth on your cheeks. He really remembered all that?

“Yeah. Cats were my thing, I guess.”

Remaining quiet for a moment, you finally had the courage to ask. “Should… should we rent a hotel? I mean, if it’s too… too weird staying here. Because of… you know. The whole portal thing… and… all that.”

“Why would it be weird for me?”

His genuinely confused tone forced you to look him in the face. He really didn’t seem to understand what you were getting at judging by the furrow on his brow.

“It sounded like it had been kind of traumatizing for you, right?” you asked. “I mean, I really don’t mind if you want to go somewhere else—“

He said your name, softly and with so much fondness it made your face burn again.

“I don’t think I’ve made this clear, but… you saved me that day. Did you know that?”

You shook your head, eyes firmly planted on the faded pink carpet under your feet.

“Well, you did,” he continued, his voice a gentle rumble that sent chills up your spine. “I was in a literal Hell before I came through that portal. And I was trapped there for a long, long time. I don’t know how you did it, and frankly, I don’t really care. I’m just grateful it happened, though I wish…”

You chanced a glance up at him when he stopped speaking, forcing yourself to meet his eye no matter how difficult it was. This seemed important to him, so it was important to you, too.

His blue eyes roved over your face slowly, as if memorizing every detail, and it was very difficult to keep still under that piercing stare. It had always had the strange effect of both making you want to hide from it while also making you want to drown in it.

“I wish what had followed hadn’t happened. If I hadn’t accepted that toy from you, none of this would have happened. You wouldn’t be trapped, forced to be a… a sex slave.”

“A sex slave?” You scoffed, looking at him like he’d lost his mind. “Bucky, I’m not a—“

“Yes, you are,” he interrupted, desperate and earnest, as if needing you to understand. “That’s exactly what you are. No matter how we dress it up. You bringing me home to your family doesn’t change that. Nothing will.”

You turned away from him, now out of frustration rather than shyness.

“Bucky, we’ve been over this already. However this happened, whatever the situation is, I’m not going to blame you. You’re not a monster, you’re not hurting me, and I refuse to hate you no matter how much you hate yourself.”

He opened his mouth to argue but you beat him to it, and interrupted him to say, “I like you, Bucky. Okay? I like you a lot. So… shut up.”

His brows rose high on his forehead and you flushed but refused to look away, ready to argue with him if he refused to listen.

But all Bucky did was smile the tiniest amount and said, “I haven’t had someone tell me to shut up in a long time. Maybe it was due.”

He was definitely teasing you now, and the tension in your shoulders relaxed. You much preferred teasing over self-loathing.

“Yeah, well, sometimes you say dumb stuff.” You raised your chin, daring him to contradict you. “You’re kind, likeable. Charming. My family is already about to adopt you and they’ve known you for less than a day.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and snorted. “Yeah, well, that’s ‘cause they don’t know me. If anything, they’re fond of the chipper, bright-eyed idiot I used to be. That’s where I’m pulling that act from. My methods may be a few decades old but parents are parents.”

“You weren’t an idiot,” you said softly, remembering now the pictures you had pulled up when you first researched the demon you’d encountered in your bedroom. He really had been the starry-eyed youth Bucky described, but you remembered very clearly the stark difference between some pictures during the war. The ones where he’d looked like any other young man in his 20s, excited to go off and fight for his country.

And then there had been the ones where he’d still smiled at the camera, but his cheeks had been gaunt, the circles under his eyes dark, and the glaze of his eyes had been haunting.

The after-HYDRA pictures.

Blowing out a breath, trying to expel your sadness physically as well as mentally, you leaned your head against his shoulder. You waited to see if he tensed or moved away, but all you felt was the warm hardness of the plates of his arm underneath his jacket.

“You don’t know that,” Bucky said, voice equally soft. “I could have been the biggest idiot in the world. In fact, I’m pretty sure I was. Steve would agree with me.”

“Steve Rogers?” you asked, perking up. Captain Rogers’ backstory was practically known to everyone on the planet, and you’d waited for Bucky to mention him. You’d never imagined you’d get to know Steve Rogers’ best friend. Or that his best friend had turned into a demon.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” he said, voice lilted with amusement. You took it as a sign that this was a safe topic, so you pressed on.

“What was he like?”

Bucky snorted again, and you weren’t expecting the arm that wrapped around your shoulders. You prayed he didn’t feel your heart thumping against your ribcage.

“Reckless. Too eager to jump into a fight he knew he would lose. Stupid and brave in equal parts. Reminds me of you, actually.”

“Thanks.”

He chuckled at your dry tone. “I mean it, though. About the brave thing. Most people would have turned tail and run at the first sight of me.”

You shrugged under his arm, nestling your cheek against his shoulder.

“I’m not brave. I’m afraid, all the time, of lots of things. But you didn’t scare me.”

He squeezed his arm tighter around you and a pleasant warmth prickled along your skin.

“You probably should have been. Not very smart of you to try and befriend a demon.”

“Hmm. Guess we’re both idiots then, huh.”

“Guess so.”

After a few seconds of silence, you added, “So, we’re definitely friends then, right?”

“Oh, my God,” he groaned.

“You did say I befriended a demon—“

“Woman.”

You snorted out a laugh, and his long-suffering sigh brought out a few more muffled giggles. He was too easy a target, and you were pretty sure he liked the teasing regardless of how much he moaned and groaned about it.

Besides, he hadn’t contradicted you. Knowing that he saw you as at least a friend, if nothing else, made the trip already worthwhile.

You could have remained like that for the rest of the day, leaning against Bucky’s warm side with his heavy arm around your shoulders. Hell, you would have been content with this for the rest of your life.

Did Bucky have any idea how you felt? What would he have thought, if he did? Knowing his levels of self-loathing, he wouldn’t be ready to hear it.

Which was one of the reasons you had invited him on this trip. All the excuses you had given Bucky were true: you had the feeding to think about, and there was the possibility of other demons lurking around.

But the true reason you’d asked him to come was to show him how you felt. That you trusted him, cared for him, and wanted him to be a part of your life, bond or not. There was always the chance it would backfire and that he would push you away again, but you would rather try and fail then never try at all. Imagining leaving Bucky alone during the holidays, holed up in that freezing tower, was unacceptable.

He would just have to suffer with overbearing family, Christmas carols on the TV, and heavily-spiked eggnog with you instead.

“We should probably go back downstairs,” Bucky said, gentle puffs of air tickling your hair. “Don’t want them to think I abducted you.”

“Mmm.”

You’d meant to say something more intelligent than that, but you hadn’t realized how tired you were from packing this morning and then the drive. It was getting close to dinnertime, and you could already smell the spices from something being cooked downstairs.

“Come on.”

Bucky easily lifted you to your feet and you protested with a resentful sigh. His returning smile made your stomach do funny flips, but it was nothing compared to the squirming it did when you remembered you would be sharing a bed with Bucky for the next few days.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Next Chapter

#bucky barnes #demon!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #demon!bucky barnes x reader #my writing #my fanfiction #branded

190 notes · View notes

alirhi · 3 years

Text

Toy Soldiers chapter 1

Title: Toy Soldiers Chapter: 1/? Fandom: MCU Rating: 18+ Focus: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes Summary: Wounded and delirious but grateful (and shocked) to be alive after his fall from the train, Bucky thinks he's been rescued when he's pulled from the snow. It doesn't take long for him to realize he would have been better off dead. WARNINGS: Language, references to (and possibly graphic depictions of; we'll see how it goes) torture, brainwashing, violence, rape Notes: I don't want to give much away here, but I do want to assure you all that no, I don't ship anyone appearing in this chapter. I'm also not yaddayaddaing the arm thing. more detail on that later.

Once, he would have been grateful to be brought back home to the States. He didn't know it, really, but he was so close to home. It didn't matter, though; just like in Europe, he never left the lab.

“How-” His throat hurt. Was it from how little he'd spoken lately... Or from how much he'd screamed? Wincing, he swallowed, coughed, and tried again. “How long...?”

“Your arm should be operational within the week,” the pretty brunette with the clipboard and the funny accent told him. She looked and sounded so familiar... “If that's what you're asking. Just relax, Sergeant Barnes. You're in good hands.”

It wasn't what he was asking. He didn't even know what she was talking about.

“I trust you'll take excellent care of him, Doctor Zola.” Her clipped, accented voice was steely as she turned to face the small man in the corner that Bucky hadn't noticed. Voice softening as she laid a hand softly on the prone Sergeant's shoulder, she added, “He meant so much to...” She stopped abruptly, cleared her throat, patted Bucky awkwardly, and turned away. “Well. Anyway. Do what you can; I'll be in touch.”

Forgetting for a moment that he didn't have a left hand anymore, Bucky reached for her. He was stunned when her skirt caught on something shiny.

Even more so when that 'something shiny' turned out to be attached to him. “How... What...?”

Dark brown eyes, warm, soft, and so familiar, locked with his as she gently pried the metal fingers loose from her skirt. “Rest, Sergeant. It will be alright.” She stepped lightly out of his reach and the authority returned to her voice as she headed for the door. “Surprising level of dexterity already. Do pass my compliments on to Stark, Doctor, won't you?”

“Stark?” Why did that name ring a bell?

“Of course, Agent Carter.” The little toad in the corner, Zola, sounded so insidious. Bucky hated him already. There was something unnervingly familiar about him, too. As the pretty brunette left, Zola approached him with a grin. “Sergeant Barnes,” he hissed, “You will be the new fist of HYDRA.”

So, he was still in HYDRA's clutches. They'd moved him, he knew, but-

Stark. Agent Carter.

He gaped at the toad, barely registering the reflection of his own stunned, scruffy face in the smaller man's glasses. Zola. Son of a fucking bitch.

The little bastard was quick. He darted out of the way as Bucky surged up and made a swipe for him. He grabbed someone else in a lab coat, instead, and didn't even hesitate. HYDRA. He hadn't nearly died trying to bring them down, only to turn around and let them keep experimenting on him without a fight. The scientist's neck snapped with a very satisfying audible crunch before Bucky was pinned, subdued, and injected with something that made him woozy.

So, Howard Stark and Peggy Carter were working with HYDRA. Fucking traitors. He was still fighting, flinging people off of him and watching in vague amazement as a couple of them flew clear across the room. Apparently deciding the drugs weren't working fast enough, one of them injected him again.

As it finally took effect and the world started to slow and dim, Bucky's last coherent thought was I hope Steve doesn't know.

“How long have I been here?” he finally managed to ask in a scratchy, gravelly voice the next time he was aware.

“A few weeks,” was the dismissive answer he got from one of the younger lab coats. He noticed they stayed out of easy reach as often as they could.

Weeks. That didn't seem right, but it was a relief to hear. If it'd only been weeks, then maybe Steve was still holding out hope; maybe Bucky hadn't been declared dead yet. They'd be looking for him...

His head cleared a bit more, and his heart sank. He'd said 'here', and they'd probably interpreted that literally. “How long,” he tried again, swallowing several times when his throat still ached, “since the train...?”

“Train?” That confused the kid he was talking to, and he glanced at one of his companions.

The other man, late thirties at least by the looks of him and annoyingly familiar, stepped forward. His voice was soft when he spoke, as if he was trying to soothe a frightened rabbit. “It's 1955, Barnes. It's been ten years since you went missing on that mission. We all thought you were dead.”

Ten years?! “Ten... fucking years?” He surged up off the table, only to be caught and held back down.

“Take your hands off him,” the other man snapped, waving the lab coats back. “This man is a hero.”

“He's dangerous, Stark!”

“He's Cap's right hand, for god's sake!”

“Stark.” Eyes wide and feeling panicked, Bucky reached for him. Howard didn't so much as flinch; he let Bucky grab his arms, and even helped him sit up. “Howard. Howard Stark – I remember you. I... Where's Steve?”

The pain in Howard's eyes answered him before his mouth could. Shaking his head in desperate denial, Bucky sank back against the chilly steel. “Don't. Don't you fucking dare.”

“You've never been afraid of anything, Barnes.” Howard winced, hands twitching like he wanted to reach for him, but he didn't. “What did those bastards do to you?”

Closing his eyes against the stab of pain did nothing to ease it; all it did was bring up a rush of dizzying, confusing images. Cold. Blood. Bright lights and gleaming steel. Foreign tongues swirling around him. Pain. White-hot endless nauseating pain...

“Where's Steve?” This time his voice came out a choked whimper, and he appreciated the kindness when no one around him commented on it.

The answer, when it came, was exactly what he'd been dreading: “He's dead. I'm sorry. He went down...”

Tuning out the soft cadence of his once-idol's voice, Bucky sagged against the table. Dead. He's dead. Stupid, reckless, good-for-nothing punk...

“Is he crying?”

“You wanna mind your damn business, Johnson? He lost a brother; let the man grieve.”

“I-it's just... He's been so volatile... I didn't expect-”

“What, human emotion? Try showing some, or get the hell out.” He felt Howard lean closer, and his voice was weirdly gentle again as he murmured, “I'm sorry, Barnes. I know you two were close.”

“Get...” His throat closed. He swallowed a couple of times, allowed a tiny sliver of gratitude when the rim of a cup was pressed to his lips and he got a sip of water, and tried again: “Get out.”

“Alright, Sarge. Alright. I was just checking on the arm.”

There was a soft thunk thunk against something metallic, accompanied by an odd tickling vibration in his shoulder and chest, and then some shuffling. It sounded like someone was moving away, and someone else was coming closer. Bucky didn't bother opening his eyes to find out what was going on.

“He's overwhelmed. Let's- Is that really necessary?”

“He's dangerous, Stark.” That voice sounded too close for comfort. He felt something cold and hard clamp down on his right wrist, and heard the clack of metal against metal on his left, and then a jab on the right. “We either leave armed guards, or this. We can't just let him wander.”

“You're treating him like a crazed murderer.”

“Well, he did kill Simmons.”

“...Right. I forgot about that. Oh, whatever. Fine. Sorry, Barnes, these guys...”

Bucky faded out before he could hear the rest of what Howard had to say. It was just as well; he didn't care what he had to say. Steve was dead. Stupid punk went and got himself killed. It'd been ten years, which meant Bucky's whole family thought he was dead, too. He had no one. Did anything else really matter anymore? This time, when oblivion came, he didn't fight it. He embraced it.

“You will be the new fist of HYDRA...”

The next time he woke, he was screaming; it wasn't enough to drown out the echoes of the little Swiss toad's insidious voice in his head. Why the fuck was he so cold?

“I told you not to put him back on ice!” That clipped voice, the lilting accent... Who was she, again? “He's a human being, for god's sake! He's not an ice cream cone!”

His teeth were chattering so hard his jaw ached as a blanket was thrown over him and tucked up under his chin. What was happening? Who were these people? Who was he? Everything was so foggy...

“Doctor Zola said-”

“Ugh. I'll deal with the good Doctor. Just... Get out of my sight, you wretch! Sergeant Barnes, are you alright?”

Barnes. Sergeant Barnes. “Three two,” he croaked automatically as memories slowly began to resurface. “Five five...”

“Shhh. Enough of that, soldier.” A soft, warm hand stroked his cheek and he smiled softly, leaning into it. “You're safe now.” There was a sharp hiss, and she whispered, “You're still so cold.”

A rustle of cloth made him open his eyes, and he was somewhat startled to see the pretty brunette hastily tugging off her clothes. “Um... Hey, now, you're lovely, Doll, but...”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Half frozen to death and your brain scrambled and what little mind you've got left is still in the gutter. Typical bloody man.”

“What-”

“You need body heat,” she snapped as, down to her underwear, she slid under the blanket with him and pressed in close with a shiver. “You haven't got any at the moment. So take mine.”

“Seems like you kinda need it.” He was pleased when that comment earned him a soft chuckle from her, and he brought his arm up to wrap around her. She was so warm...

“I'll survive.”

“Thank you.” I know her... How do I know her? Punky? No. Punk loved her. P... Pe... “Peggy.”

With her face pressed against his chest, he felt her soft smile, and a little warm glow inside when she wrapped her arms around him and squeezed. “That's Agent Carter, thank you, Sergeant,” she teased.

Bucky managed an exhausted smile at that. It hurt; his lips were chapped from the cold, but he didn't care. It felt nice to smile, like he hadn't done it in years. “Right. Only Steve got to call you Peggy.”

They both went rigid at that, and Bucky winced as memories started to float back to him. Steve utterly failing to flirt with this woman, pining for her, talking about her, staring at that photo he stuck inside his compass... Steve...

“He's dead.” Howard's words, soft though they'd been when he spoke them, rang like a gong through his head.

“How...” He choked, shivering from more than the cold, and tried again. “How did he die?”

“Stubborn foolishness,” Peggy whispered, her voice just as choked with pain as his own.

Bucky nodded to himself, closing his eyes. That made sense.

“He saved the world.”

He smiled softly and held her just a bit tighter. That made sense, too. “Did you love him?”

She was silent for what felt like an eternity. At first, he thought she might refuse to answer, but then, so softly he almost didn't hear her, she murmured, “I always will.”

“Me, too.”

Another long silence stretched on, and then she told him, “You're all that's left in the world of him, Sergeant. The two of you were as close as any family...” She lifted her head and he glanced down at her, surprised to see how intensely her eyes shone; she was trying not to cry. “So you're forbidden to die, do you hear me? I won't allow it.”

“Then maybe you should turn up the heat in here a little,” he joked, trying to make them both smile, but failing miserably. “Feels like a morgue.”

“Yes, well...” She dropped her head back onto his chest. They were both shivering now; dimly, Bucky recalled that he hadn't been in the first few seconds after he woke, and that it was supposed to be a good sign that he was. “As long as a certain appendage doesn't suddenly get 'rigor mortis',” Peggy was saying, drawing his attention back to her, “I'm sure all will be well.”

The joke wasn't all that funny, but he was so surprised the prim and proper Englishwoman had made it that he laughed. With a rueful grin he shot back, “I'd have to find it first, Doll.”

That got a startled, tired giggle out of her, and then they both lapsed into a pensive silence.

#fanfiction #toy soldiers #bucky barnes #the winter soldier #pro bucky barnes #victim not villain #howard stark #peggy carter #captain america the first avenger #captain america the winter soldier

3 notes · View notes