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hiimawarish · 10 months

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there's no hiding from the thought of us

s. jing yuan is busy reminiscing at work. cw. female/afab reader. implied childhood friends to lovers. angst? slight fluff? tw. slight mention of death (jingliu). wc. 0.8k a/n. this was supposed to be fluff, and then it turned sad really fast. i'm sorry. i wrote this at... 11pm? not proofread so excuse any typos. also, this man has ruined me so yeah. credits. dividers by @/cafekitsune.

There is something about you he doesn’t quite understand.

Maybe it is the fact that, despite the long centuries you both have endured, you seem to glow while he feels like withering. The years have served to mature your soul, to make you bloom into this ineffable flower he can’t quite touch. A curious thought, he finds, that you’re this close to him yet remain so far. Longing fills his molten gold eyes as he looks at the picture of you he keeps at his desk, a bittersweet nostalgia to go back to who you two were before all of this; to when you were just a couple of kids playing around, dreaming.

Before reality kicked in and forced you awake.

Jing Yuan sighs, then, as his mind continues to spiral into thoughts of you. The pile of documents on his desk seems to grow with each passing second, but it does nothing to keep him focused. The emptiness of the Seat of the Divine Foresight reminds him of his lack of you—your absence—, and the overall heartwrenching sorrow that seems to fill the void within his heart whenever he remembers. If you were here, you’d scold him, he realizes. “I’m not dead, just working,” you’d say, your delicate lips curving into an amused smile, eyes glowing with knowing glee. Then you’d go on about how needy he was, how unsightly clingy the General of the Xianzhou Luofu turned out to be.

He can almost hear your voice, the tinkling bells of your voice echoing in his mind. He can almost see you, those damn robes wrapped around your curves that made him want to play hooky—but you never allowed him to. No, you held Lady Fu too highly to allow him to slack off, even if just for a second.

The Dozing General sighs, heavily, letting most of the air within his lungs out before taking another big breath. He shakes his head for a bit in an attempt to focus—he does need to get through this paperwork today, no matter how much he despises it. Nevertheless, it becomes obvious quite quickly how useless the attempt is. His thoughts naturally drift to you the moment he relaxes, as if you were nothing but an oasis to his mind amidst the desert his work posed. You’ve always been a magnet, he thinks. He has always found himself attracted to you, whether as willingly as a moth to flame or as begrudgingly as tranquility to war he does not know. The only thing Jing Yuan knows is that you have always been a part of him.

Too big of a part.

Having lost so many friends over the years, so many battles, Jing Yuan knows defeat too well. It welcomes him with open arms every time, as an old friend would. The losses he has suffered overpower the wins, he knows. You know. You’ve always know. That is why, when he lies awake at night, you have never asked; the silent understanding between the two of you is enough to comfort the raging storm within his heart, yet sometimes he wishes he could speak. He doesn’t need to, he knows—you were there through most of them. You were there when he had to turn his blade against his master, when he was forced to clean up the mess from his friends, when he was left behind… You were there. You’re still here.

Maybe that is why such sorrow fills him when he finds himself idle.

Perhaps the possibility that you, too, could leave his side fills him with such dread that he finds himself lost. He finds himself reduced to the child you met a lifetime ago, the imposing figure of the General long lost among his fears. It is unbecoming—Jing Yuan is more than aware of it—, but what can he do? Although centuries trail behind him, he is still just a man. Even if Yanqing looks at him with stars in his eyes, ears full of legends and stories of him, Jing Yuan knows better. He is just a man.

A man afraid of losing the one love he has found.

A man afraid of losing the one comfort he has.

A man afraid of losing you.

Yes, he is terrified of trouble and change; the raw possibility that Fate could still steal you away from him; the imminent danger that you could become mara-struck, cursing him to having to slay you, too. Legends may sing praises about his prowess in battle, his skill in strategy, all the battles he has won, the peace he brought to the Luofu… But Jing Yuan is terrified for you.

There is something about you he doesn’t quite understand. As his eyes focus once again on the document before him, Jing Yuan sighs. He doesn’t understand when or how you became his own soul—his only weakness, the one thing he knew better than himself, better than the back of his hand.

He is aware that counting all the things he would miss is not a way of loving someone, but that is the only way he knew how.

more works.

#honkai star rail #honkai jing yuan #hsr #jing yuan #jing yuan honkai #jingyuan #star rail #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #jing yuan x y/n #natsu writes

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siriuslygay1981 · 6 days

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Ugh...just thinking about Effie watching her boys suffer.

Her first child, her baby...dying before he can raise his own sweet child. So many life experiences taken away from him so young. She hurts thinking of all the years she got and all the years James couldn't have. James who had wanted something more, who didn't want to be an auror but had put aside his dreams to help the war effort. James her sweet brave boy. He wore his heart on his sleeve, his love all consuming. She couldn't shield him from the world, she hasn't been able to for years by the time she left...it didn't stop her from trying though. In the end his heart was what got him killed, she did not think about how that made her feel.

She feels deep sadness at seeing what Peter had become, once a sweet young boy helping her set up the table when the other kids were rough housing outside. She can't help but feel a burning hatred, not towards her Peter, her sweet Pete...but towards this person that wears her boys face. The young man who betrays friend after friend, the one taking lives...that's not her boy, not her petey. He gave her a handful of flowers on mother's day, his face pink. Her Peter held James up in the sidelines, when no one noticed James breaking down...Peter could. Peter who she taught family recipes to because besides James, Peter was the only other decent cook. She thinks back to the boy with wide blue eyes, freckles dotting his nose and his cheeks, his blonde hair just slightly too long. She remembers brushing it out of his face tenderly and telling her how proud she is of him. She knows he always felt like he was being left behind, like he didn't quite deserve the role he had in all their lives. To her, she lost Peter too. Maybe he was the first one she lost...

Remus whose suffered every month for years and has a bad view of himself because of prejudice. How could her smart boy be so so stupid. He was worthy of love and it pained her to see him hunch over, trying to hide himself. She watched as he gave himself to their headmaster, to use because he shared a kindness that no one else had shown him. She couldn't tell him that he owed Dumbledore nothing. She wishes she could come back just to give that old bumbling man a piece of her mind, manipulating Remus was unforgivable. Remus who was sarcastic but so so sweet, smart and also so dumb. She didn't miss the way he smiled at Sirius, the way the two looked at each other. She cried for hours after Remus got the news. She wasn't sure if he'd ever open up again. How could such a kind soul be given such a cruel fate- he was once again alone and she wasn't sure she could handle it. But...if he got through it so would she.

Sirius who never had the love he deserved. Shunned and hated at every turn. How could they think Sirius, her baby, could ever betray his other brother. Sirius who was never shown unconditional love, who still flinched when she moved suddenly. She seemed to be the only one, besides James, to see the way Sirius stiffened when a voice was raised, even with no malicious intent. Sirius, betrayed and framed. Her second son, taken from cruel hands just to be stabbed in the back by one of his own. So suspicious of love that he suspected one of the closest people to him. Still grieving his younger brother, still in so much pain. He hadn't yet gotten to live, hadn't really been free for long. A handful of years at most and then he was sent away because of his last name.

The world wasn't kind, it seemed even less so towards the ones she held dear, to the generation cursed to fight in the war. She watched the eyebags deepen, their softer edges hardening and becoming ragged and barbeb with wire. It was unfair, it was gut wrenching, her boys were strong, they held on for so long for as long as they could and she was so proud of them. But...she felt relief, as bad as it sounded, when they finally were able to rest. They had fought so hard for so long the least the world could do was reunite them and give them peace. She hoped they weren't too hard on themselves, for the small stupid mistakes, the miscommunication, the stupid arguments and the silent treatment, all the times they could've spoken up or taken a moment to really think.

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spicebiter · 1 year

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Horizon Zero Dawn spoilers but I don't think I can ever really be over Zero Dawn as a project and the truth behind Operation Enduring Victory and just everything it amounted to.

Like at the end of the fucking world, a year and change left to live, and a group of people dedicated that time to making sure Earth could have some manner of future. That even though everyone still alive had to suffer for one company's greed and stupidity there could still be something *someday*. It's such a testament to the part of humanity that wishes the best for its successors even if they can't ever gain from that 'best'. But on the flipside the secrecy that Zero Dawn had to exist under because they knew that no one wants to fight a hopeless war, not to mention the fact that people that worked on Zero Dawn were promised time with their families before everything really ended, it's sad but I have to argue that *surely* some people knew. Even if they didn't want to believe it or think about it had to see what they were up against or engage in one battle and realize just what was happening, and still have to have hoped there was something they had planned. And how Zero Dawn worked, technically. It gave humanity a new chance. Even if it's not all they intended, there are plants and animals and people and they're really living. They have such a rich culture so separate and so entangled with the old world and even if it's 'wrong' I know those that fought for Enduring Victory and worked on Zero Dawn would be glad something good came from all that effort.

And the cradle facility you visit kills me. Apollo failed and they couldn't enter and they could never *learn*, they could never grow past those lessons meant for children, and the servitors couldn't learn to treat them like adults because they were still children. They grew without ever learning anything new and they couldn't even know *why* because they were never taught how to handle that grief and the servitors saw them as kids you can't tell that kind of thing to. You can't tell them that they're the children of a lost species that's been dead for centuries but loved them so so much they lived and died for them to exist. And they were let out into the world with nothing! Their first time seeing the sun and yet it was cold and they were hungry. Everything was new and terrifying and they had to be so angry but they still lived and they did it. They made something new. They struggled and survived. Like, fuck, man. It's so heavy.

#spiced #media talk #horizon zero dawn #hzd spoilers #i won't lie this shit makes me want to cry when I think about it for more than 2 seconds at a time #idk i've been playing the game for my roommates and I just love this game so much #i haven't stopped thinking about the cradle and zero dawn since we got to those sections

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arc-misadventures · 1 year

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Rebirth AU: couldn't Jaune or Jeanne look up who is running Beacon if Ozpin then shadow war if it's human Salem then all is good

Shall we Dance to Our Own Rhythm~?

Arc Twins Age: Nine

Jaune: Okay, okay… Let’s see who it is…

Jeanne: What are you looking up?

Jaune: Whoever the Head of Beacon is.

Jeanne: Why!

Jaune: To determine how fucked we are.

Jeanne: What?!

Jaune: Hmm? Oh that’s right, you weren’t trapped in hell like I was.

Jeanne: W-What are you talking about?

Jaune: Okay, in your life you had a, Headmistress Selma, while I had a, Headmaster Ozpin; Did you ever wonder why it was like that?

Jeanne: Uhhh… Nooo…?

Jaune: Well, in my world, Selma, who’s real name is, Salem, is an immortal witch who threw herself into a pool of Grimm, became evil, and wanted to destroy the world. Meanwhile you still have an immortal witch, only she wasn’t evil.

Jeanne: …

Jeanne: What on, Remnant are you talking about?!

Jaune: Haa… Have you ever heard of the story of, ‘The Girl in the High Tower?’

Jeanne: Of course I have, Mom told us that story together when we were kids dozens of times, remember?

Jaune: I have to ask because that story is true.

Jeanne: T-True?! The story is true?!

Jaune: Yes, and Salem was the girl in the high tower.

Jeanne: Seriously?!

Jaune: You want to hear the story?

Jeanne: Yeah!

Jaune: Okay, so… thousands of years ago. Salem was locked away in a tower by her father, there she lay a prisoner for years, until one day a wandering wizard, saw the girl, and decided to free her from her prison. And, that wizard was named, Ozma.

Jeanne: Ozma? Is that, Ozpin?

Jaune: Yes; Also no questions until the end of the story!

Jeanne: Sorry.

Jaune: As the two escaped it could have gone the way of the books, ‘And, they lived happily ever after.’ All that trite. However, reality is never as it is in the books. Ozma fell ill, and there was nothing anyone could do to save him, so the man who saved, Salem, the man she loved unlike any other, died.

Jeanne: Oh… That is a really sad story…

Jaune: But, it is not over yet!

Jeanne: It’s not?!

Jaune: No. Salem was unwilling, no, incapable of letting the love her life just fade away, so she went to the only two beings capable of saving her husband; The Gods of Light, and Darkness.

Jeanne: Wait?! There are gods?! Why haven’t I heard of any of this?!

Jaune: Brother Gods; Real uptight pricks the lot of ‘em! Now, stop interrupting!

Jeanne: Sorry…

Jaune: So, she went to the, God of Light, and pleaded with it to bring back the lover of her life. The God of Light said no, why be you ask? Because bringing him back would bring unbalance to the world. So, after the, God of Light spurred, Salem’s request she went deep into the Grimm Lands, and went to the, God of Darkness, and asked it to bring, Ozma back. And, it did, Ozma was back in an instant, but it only took an instant the, God of Light to show up, and send him back to the afterlife. Then they played ping pong with, Ozma’s life, killing him, and bringing him back, until, Salem had enough. They stopped, but then the, God of Light showed that he was a real motherfucker…

Jeanne: What did it do?

Jaune: It punished, Salem because of her selfish request. So, to teach her the value of life, it made her immortal.

Jeanne: Immortal…? It made her immortal as a punishment?

Jaune: Yes; Immortal. Ha! Bringing one life back would bring unbalance to the world, but bringing an immortal into the world, that doesn’t make things unbalanced!?

Jeanne: It would be like telling a cripple to outrun a huntsman. Hell, even a child can outrun a cripple!

Jaune: Precisely. So, after years of suffering from her immortality, Salem tricked the various rulers of the world to attack the, Gods. They thought if they did that they would be able to gain immortality too. The Gods were enraged by this, and took away people’s ability to use magic…

Jeanne: We can use magic?!

Jaune: Could! Could use magic! Pay attention!

Jeanne: Sorry.

Jaune: So, after that, the God of Darkness had a little hissy fit, and while he, and his brother left the world, and… He… He blew the moon…

Jeanne: Wait?! That’s why the moon is broken?!

Jaune: Yeah, talk about a bunch of sore losers… Anyway, after a series of meteorites hit the planet it became a winter apocalypse. After a time, the world healed, Dust, and Faunas showed up. Don’t ask, I have no idea how, or why they showed up. Anyway, Salem had enough, and threw herself into a pool of Grimm, and then she came out as some sort of Grimm monster.

Jeanne: So that’s how, Salem was born?

Jaune: No, what really made, Salem the monster she sadly became happened years after that…

Jeanne: What happened…?

Jaune: The God of Light brought, Ozma back.

Jeanne: WHAT?! Why would they bring him back?!

Jaune: It wanted to fuck over the world some more?Who the hell knows, or care. All that matter is that, The God of Light likes to fuck people ovet, and Ozma was back, sorta…

Jeanne: What do you mean by sorta?

Jaune: Well, the body of, Ozma didn’t come back, but his mind did. You see, Ozma has the ability that upon his death his mind immediately gets transferred to a new body. New face, new, Ozma.

Jeanne: Wait, what happened to the mind of the original host? Did it cease to exist after, Ozma came, or?

Jaune: While he can be fought, Ozma tended to take over his host body… To the point where the hosts original mind might as well be as good as dead.

Jeanne: Oh… No wonder you called him a parasite…

Jaune: I don’t see, Ozpin in a positive light after everything I learned about that SOB. Anyway, Ozma heard of a witch in the woods, he went, and found Salem, the married, had a family, and then things went to hell… Haa… You see, Ozma, and Salem still had magic, and they used this magic to put, and end to the fighting around them. Salem then reached a point where she thought they should rule over everyone, powers unparalleled tend to give ones delusions of grandeur. They fought about this. Then in the dead of night, Ozma tried to run with their daughters, and got them killed in the ensuing battle they had… And, the world was forever plunged into a unending shadow war because of them…

Jeanne: Oh… Oh gods…

Jaune: Oh gods indeed…It was much better in your world, with Selma…

Jeanne: Why was that?

Jaune: Well, Salem, never fell into the pit of Grimm batter, so she was never that, Grimm Hybrid thingy she became. Ozma did come back, only this time he grew envious of, Salem’s immortality. And, he started do experiments on how he could gain his own version of immortality… The victims of his experiments turned out to be… his very own children…

Jeanne: Oh gods!

Jaune: Yeah… Worst of all, his experiments worked!Salem was forced to kill all of her children in order to stop him. But, he could still transfer his mind to a new host. It took centuries but, Salem managed to track him down, and lock him away with the power of the, Relic of Creation. She locked him in a vault that only she can open, and that only she knows where to find.

Jeanne: Wow… That’s some heavy stuff, but, uhh… One question?

Jaune: Yeah?

Jeanne: What’s the, Relic of Creation?

Jaune: Haaa… Okay, when, Ozma came back he came back with four, Relics given to him by the, God of Light. The Staff of Creation, the Lamp of Knowledge, Crown of Choice, and the Sword of Destruction. Pretty self evident names there on what they do. But, they each have rules on how they work. At least that what the spirit things say.

Jeanne: Spirits? These things have minds of their own?

Jaune: Yeah, I only knew the name of one of them by the time I died. The Relic of Knowledge, her name was, Jinn.

Jeanne: Really, what did she look like.

Jaune: Don’t know, I never saw her. Anyway the relics aren’t really that good; The Relic of Knowledge only let’s you ask three questions ever hundred years, and every time to use the, Relic of Creation is destroys whatever was made before… it…

Jeanne: What is it? You’ve got that, “I have a brilliant idea,” look on your face!

Jaune: There’s a look?

Jeanne: Yes, its quite rugged, and dashing.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Okay…?

Jaune: So I haven’t been able to see if, Salem, or Ozpin were the Headmaster, Headmistress because of the Beacon Academy website being shit. However, all I need is a photo of Atlas to find out which one we will be dealing with.

Jeanne: Atlas, how would you find who’s here based on a photo of, Atlas?

Jaune: Because, in my world, Atlas was a floating island because of the powers of the, Relic of Creation making it so. But, if, Salem used the, Staff to imprison, Ozpin.

Jeanne: Then there would be no floating island~!

Jaune: Bingo~! And, would you look at that~!

Jeanne: Atlas isn’t a floating island! It’s just the upper city, and Mantle is the lower city?!

Jaune: Whoo, Selma is the Headmaster of, Beacon Academy!

Acheius: What are two doing?

Jeanne: Oh… Just learning who the Headmistress of, Beacon Academy.

Acheius: Headmistress Selma? Why did you want to know that?

Jaune: Yes!

Jeanne: Well, we need to learn who’s in charge of the school when we train to be, Hunters!

Acheius: You want to be a, Huntress, Jeanne?

Jeanne: Yeah! I-Is there a problem with that, Dad?

Acheius: Hmm… We’ll need to discuss that with your mother, okay dear?

Jeanne: Okay, Dad.

Jaune: Can I join that conversation too, Dad?

Acheius: And, why would you want to do that?

Jaune: Because I want to be a, Huntsman.

Acheius: You?! A, Huntsman?! BWAHAHAHAHA!!!

Jaune…

Jeanne: Hh oh…

Acheius: Hahahaha hooo… Oh that’s funny~!

Jaune: Is that a no?

Acheius: Yes.

Jaune: May I ask why?

Acheius: Because I said so, end of discussion.

Jaune: …

Jeanne: You saw this coming, didn’t you?

Jaune: Haaa… And, thus my misfortune never ends…

Jeanne: Oh no…

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby ozma #rwby ozpin #rwby salem #acheius arc #rwby jinn #fem jaune

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rivaille-13 · 10 months

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Hey Hans! I just noticed that you never really posted your new fanfic with the 1950-ish vibes here so let me be the one to promote it for ya lol

i know quite people are begging this lovely writer to update an epilogue for ATW or even asking updates of By Dawn but we never really had your answers *sad cries* until my email beeps that you actually posted another fic *holy moly*

And it’s freakin 1950’s. FOR REAL guys read it the title is “From Afar” and honestly Hans I’m kind of scared it has a cutesy vibes but at the same time it screams disaster and chaos just like the movie Edge of Love (ik ik, you’re a fan of Cillian just like moralee!)

Again, the writing is incredible im forever a fan. But pls Hans, could you please update By Dawn too? That story got me on chokehold I don’t know how I actually read that because I’m literally bawling every chapters but it’s still freaking beautiful

Ok love u

Wow, this is a long ask indeed! I don’t know what to answer first, it has been a while but please let me express my gratitude first. The amount of support I am still getting is very flattering and heart warming so thank you very much.

It has been two years since the last chapter of After The War, and I swear that I’ve tried to write an epilogue, but then tossed it right into the bin because there has been some changes I want to revise with the whole story. It feels like the story is still lacking plots, and I’m really not satisfied with the whole outcome and grammatical error…I’m still at Chapter 3 revision, and it’s taking me a long time and it’s killing me too.

While By Dawn, I’ll Leave is like the skeleton meme that was left chained at the bottom of the pool LOL I’m very kidding but yes, a year had already passed since I last updated a new chapter. To give you my answer, I have a draft of the next chapter — around 3,000 words but I definitely feel the need to drop a hell of a long chapter in regards to the POV of whom character I am writing…I think that this chapter should express the missing details (I know some of the readers are left hanging and dissatisfied with Levi and Mikasa’s choices) to give way that both of the characters suffered equally in their own way…alright no spoilers. Haha

And of course, I almost forgot! From Afar — 1950’s and stuff…I’m getting a lot of suggestions to write a 50’s one so here I tried. Tackles about the 1940-50’s, I actually don’t know how to react with that opinion of yours but it did make me laugh. The chaos and disaster, hmm…maybe? But it’s not going to land like The Edge of Love for sure, I don’t want Mikasa to be milking Levi’s military pension the way Vera did it to William (Cillian Murphy)! Hahaha, maybe the vibes, you know, I’m still head over heels towards Cillian as Levi and so on.

Thank you for promoting it again, and for the time to ask me such. I’m sorry, there’s no emoji available, my iPhone is shitty, I can’t put emoji on my text!

To everyone who wants to give From Afar a try, here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48274930

It’s not really fixed yet, like the title and tags could change but yeah, a 1950’s…enjoy and let me know what you think. (:

#rivamika #rivamika fanfic #リヴァミカ

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greenmeanqueen · 2 years

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Saw that ask about Targ stans being gleeful over the fact that Alicent's "line" died out and Rhaenyra's got the throne - and I really find that odd. I mean, there seems to be this perception among them that Alicent's kids are not "Targaryens" but Hightowers. For me, aside from the obvious suffering of the realm and small-folk, the actual tragedy of the dance is that it tore a family apart. Everyone knows the, "A Targaryen alone in the world" line, implying the importance of family. In the very first episode of hotd Daemon talks about how their blood is thick, and Viserys himself talks about the importance of sticking together as a unit. The opening lines of the show were literally that the only thing capable of destroying the Targaryens were they themselves. We see it throughout their history: if they had kept tight as a family, they wouldn't have fallen apart the way they did (Aenys and Maegor, the Blackfyres&Bittersteel, Aerys not being etc...).

Besides, I honestly don't get feeling gleeful over a mother's grief, no matter what. I felt awful for Rhaenyra when her sons died (honestly, I don't know how much she would've enjoyed Aegon and Viserys ruling when she lost Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey). I felt awful for Alicent when she outlived her children and grandchildren (that line about how she wanted to see her sons and Helaena was one of the saddest in the book). And I felt awful for the kids themselves (at least, those who were pulled into the conflict not out of their own volition but because of responsibility toward/association with their family; most of them were so young).

thank you for your ask!!

anon, i think that's an excellent insight on stans implying that alicent and her children are not truly "part of the family", and thusly perceived as outsiders and enemies coming to tear the targs down.

and, frankly, that's objectionably simplifying the situation. that's part of the point, that all of these people were supposed to have some sense of loyalty to each other due to the notion of "family", and yet the chaos of choices drove them apart. this is not to say that just because one is "family" one must unconditionally support them, no no. but there were decisions made by people in power that weren't thought through well enough to consider how it would affect descendants down the line (looking at you, jae/haerys and vi/serys). these decisions laid the pieces in place for everything to go wrong, for people to turn on each other and feel like they had to choose a side (or were too young to fully understand what that meant).

i'm just gonna say it: to boil it down to "alicent started the war/dance" is clearing every other player of responsibility, because no, no it wasn't only her (debatably it wasn't her at all). aegon ii would not have gotten as far as he did if his claim was not arguably legitimate, which it was because he was, undeniably, the son of the former king. he was targ/aryen, as were his siblings, as was his mother a targ/aryen queen. they were valid members of the dynasty, whether they wanted to be or not. "othering" them does such a disservice to the story and removes so many layers.

and even if one doesn't like certain characters over others, it still gives off a sour energy to celebrate the suffering of mothers who were neither good nor bad, just people, and mourn children that didn't deserve what happened to them. like, rhaenyra and alicent are messy and all, but they didn't deserve what happened to them either; neither of their downfalls feel cathartic, it's just horrible and sad, and i can't help but contemplate how different things could have been if it weren't for, bluntly, the patriarchy and the men it empowered.

#feel like this is a little all over the place #but you really got me thinking anon i had so many thoughts #still i hope this makes sense!!#anti targ stans #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #anti viserys i targaryen #anti jaehaerys targaryen #dance of the dragons #the blacks and the greens #fire and blood #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon spoilers #asoiaf #game of thrones #ask a gal

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mlobsters · 4 months

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supernatural s13e14 good intentions (w. meredith glynn)

well that was a little bit of the old spn spark for a second there, with the hallucination/vision/whatever hot!zachariah was giving jack. very sweet and sad. something about the sound design and the dialogue.. of the offscreen voices of sam and dean, it had sort of a... theater feel to it? (watching with headphones and maybe a little bit high so, grain of salt) plus just the very... childlike wish fulfillment of kiddo with absent parents.

DEAN You know what? We made it, though. You, me and the kid. Finally under one roof. SAM And you know what, honestly, it doesn’t matter where he’s been. I’m just glad Jack’s back. DEAN Right, home safe. Where he belongs.

like 💔 i didn't realize they really went with this nuclear family thing straight out

also when the fake fire is happening sam and dean sound about as distressed (maybe more?) as you'll ever hear them in this show and that was distressing even knowing it couldn't be real

ZACHARIAH Yes. And not just a single one-way ticket like the prophet’s spell. This boy, he can open a rift big enough to march an army through. He has so much power. We just… have to make him use it. MICHAEL Then make him.

ok but like. why doesn't michael make his own army of nephilim? he's an archangel still right? what am i missing

i'm sorry donatello but all i can think is

the zachariah!cas sending the images of destroying the environment and wars etc to jack for proof of why humans are bad, reminds me of the fifth element?? i think? leeloo discovering all the bad parts of humanity? and then i think only will save the world? by the power of human love from bruce willis??? lol i've seen that movie a ton but it's been a long ass time

captions staying on for this screenshot 😂

this random fight scene with these random figures from the bible. and donatello being twitchy and obvious as fuck that he's clearly up to something. demon tablet not to be ingested while soulless and under asmodeus's influence?

donatello choking out dean from a distance and laughing like a loon, all righty

so now mary gets the catharsis of hearing from an unbiased source that her demon deal is what ultimately saved the world

bro. there's some bizarro music going on during this fight over donatello being soulless what is HAPPENING. jay gruska, is that you? (of course it is). ugh, if only i wasn't committed to keeping that earlier video clip 😞 (fine it's so goofy i'm adding an mp3 of it) it's tonally a mismatch to the vibe onscreen and is just super random. the horns that come in... lol. anyway.

but we're escalating up to cas whatever, trying to torture it out of him?

SAM Our plan, Dean. The spell, get mom back. Donatello’s soul is gone. That’s not just something you come back from. DEAN You did. SAM Yeah, because you convinced Death to get my soul back from the cage, but Amara ate Donatello’s soul. There’s nothing to get back. It’s gone. CASTIEL And Donatello’s already corrupted. I… perhaps the kindest thing to do would be to end his suffering. SAM What? CASTIEL I don’t like it either. But if Donatello’s life ends, then another prophet comes into being and they can finish the translation. DEAN So what, you just wanna kill him? SAM No! No killing! We just need the spell.

interesting how frantic padalecki is going with this. terrified the Plan is being wrecked yet again

CASTIEL I am going to do something that I promised I would never do to a human being without their permission. I’m gonna strip the spell from your mind. DONATELLO You—you—you—you can’t. I—I’ve absorbed too much power. Y-y-you’ll fry us both! CASTIEL I might. DONATELLO Ardeat intus— CASTIEL I’m sorry, but I’m not going to let you or anyone hurt the people I love. Not again.

well then. cas saving them from the moral quandary again. like killing billie for them

i don't even know what to say about this apocalypse world business with bobby, mary and jack. jack's just. poppin angels, ready to throw down with michael

SAM Well… guess you could say Donatello is alive. CASTIEL You told me not to kill him. DEAN Yeah, but, Cas, you turned him into… he’s brain dead. Machines keeping him breathing. What’s wrong with you? CASTIEL Nothing. SAM Cas— CASTIEL His soul was gone. He was corrupted. He was a danger to himself and to you and to all of humanity. Did you know that he was working with Asmodeus? SAM What? No. CASTIEL Not by choice, but he was. Some people just can’t be saved. DEAN Yeah, but who gets to make that choice? You? What exactly gives you the right? CASTIEL Nothing. I took it. And if I hadn’t acted, we would still be sitting around and talking about what to do next. We would be wasting time. And it’s time we don’t have, Dean. I told you, war is coming. War. And I did what soldiers do. Now we needed the spell to open the rift, and I got it. We need four major ingredients: the grace of an archangel… a fruit from the Tree of Life… the Seal of Solomon… and the blood of “a most holy man.” We find those things, we can bring everybody home. And together, we can beat Lucifer and Michael. This is the only way we win, and this is the only way we survive. It’s like you said, Dean. Whatever it takes.

i mean, surely sam and dean have made these kinds of decisions time and time again. especially when the "whatever it takes" is saving each other. but now cas can take the responsibility/blame for doing the ends justify the means thing

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 13x14 #jay gruska #spn clip #spn musical score #meredith glynn

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princeanxious · 2 years

Text

So.. 👉👈 Do y'all want another mainly childhood friends to strangers to lovers romantic anxceit fic plot i came up with the other day? Think Janus as an up&coming famous clothing designer and Virgil a royal prince

I say mainly anxceit bc the end goal is DLAMP at least but I haven't delved as far into that bit yet as its starting setting is anxceit centric but.

Fuck it, yall are getting it. Have the whole ramble under this cut:

Okay. So:

Tailor/seamstress Janus and royal prince Virgil, but they only knew eachother as children, before janus got his scar, and made Virgil his first favorite jacket

Say there was a war going on when they were young, and janus was virgil's best friend while he went into hiding. Janus was the only one who virgil ever told he was royalty atm, and Virgil was the only person Janus has ever told his real name to. Bc as an adult he goes by dee, or his popular name Deceit(bc he makes it big as a fashion tailor/seamstress thing)

And maybe cuz theyre 7-8 y/o kids and its literally a lil over a decade until they meet again, they dont have clear memories of what the other looked like(for Janus bc of his scar, for virgil bc of his 'peasant disguise') and they probably had a spat over something that kids can't rly grasp at their age(the tension of war, being far away from home with no knowledge on whether there was going to be a home to come home to at the end) and when Virgil can finally come out of hiding and leaves Janus behind, theres a bittersweet goodbye with some unresolved tension and

Even tho Janus knows theyre 'fighting' though, Janus still gives Virgil an oversized jacket as a goodbye gift, its patched with pretty purple plaid(virgils favorite color) and hints of sunflower yellow patches and stitching on the inside to mend the remaining tatters, and unknowingly to Janus, Virgil has kept it all these years as his favorite comfort item and momento of Janus.

There is context that one of the things Janus shares with Virgil when theyre kids is that he wants to be a famous clothing designer when he grows up, bc he isnt suited for farmwork due to his weak legs/joints, but he hasnt come up with a name for himself yet when virgil leaves.

"Just you wait, Virge, I'll be coming to work at the castle in no-time, then we can still be friends and i can make tons of clothes that you actually like!"

But, sometime between their last and next meeting, Janus's family home catches fire, and as a result Janus loses his parents and suffers extensive burns himself as a result(almost sucumbing himself but just barely pulling through)

Virgil doesn't catch word of it till he's 19 and comes to the town on a wim due to conveniently nearby travel plans, thinking that maybe he can find his old friend again and rekindle their friendship, only to ask around and get sad looks.

"Oh, the old Sunflower Farm? ...Im so sorry dear, it burned down 2 years ago. I dont think even the youngest made it out.. No ones heard anything since, anyway.."

And of course u know he goes to visit the farm's remains and finds a lil memorial, but it only seems to have the parents names and no mention of Janus's name anyway. Virgil is anguished and confused but he doesnt have the time to ask around more, so he pays his respects to the people who protected him in a time of war and moves on, diligant about keeping his comfort item well kept bc now its really set in that its the only thing hes got left to remember Janus.

Timeskip to their first meeting in years.

Janus goes by 'Dee' now bc he's trying to distance himself from his past(while still healthily mourning his parents and taking time to heal himself)as he pursues his career bc he's not looking to have part of his image be any more 'mysterious tragic past' than his scars already make it to be.

Ironically his moniker of 'Deceit' is inspired by his specific style of fashion that can transform into upwards of 2-3 styles based not only on preference and attraction but also functionality. Things like a reverseable skirt, skirts that can be adjusted to 3 different lengths, skirts that have been given the ability to be pinned into shorts, jackets with removable sleeves, to name one line of ideas. Another is just the kind of color theory concept of hiding an image in plain sight just with clothing designs. Or just purely transformative preformitive fashion(think those cosplay dresses that go from cinderella's maid dress to full gown in just a few spins, ect.) for grand balls and weddings, ect. But also just. Known for very popular and regal yet often still practical and (comparably)comfortable.

And eventually Janus gets an invite to design and make Virgil's outfit for the first grand ball thrown since Virgil's coronation as crowned Prince(now that the war is officially over), as a means of opening up communications with other kingdoms again as well as accepting offers of courtship. Virgil isnt at all happy w/ it but he doesnt exactly have a choice..

So of course their first meeting has Janus strutting in with full confidence(though still plenty respectful) bc out of the two, he still remembers Virgil and maybe wants to have a silly but sweet 'i told you i'd make it to the castle to see you again' moment but he doesnt immediately catch on that virgil doesnt remember him.

And maybe there were some other stressors or what have you from thedays before, but it leads to Virgil holding/wearing his well-loved jacket Janus gave him from years ago during the meeting. Its probably another reason why Janus kinda doesnt catch on immediately, bc he sees it and internally goes 'gods you still haven't let go of that? You do remember me! I'm touched'

And maybe in his giddiness he also forgets that he looks different. The scars, even faded, have changed his appearance, one eye a clouded white. They've both grown taller, though Janus had not grown quite as tall as Virgil had. And they weren't chubby cheeked 7 year olds anymore, either.

So you can kind of wince at the stumble that is Janus's first sentence to Virgil, said playfully and perhaps more smug than intented: "I believe now i'll be able to make you something better than that dusty old thing, don't you think?"

And the way Virgil shuts down more, his glare hardening and his shoulders hunching as he hisses "Daring to insinuate that I'd even want to replace something so dear to me is a bold first move, Tailor. Unfortunately I do not think you can replace the memory of a lost friend. I think we're done here.'

Bc Virgils stressed and he doesnt have the tolerance for people who act like they know better about things they know nothing about, and so he turns to storm out of the room only to hear Janus speak up, alot less smug and much more genuine,

"Well, I think I could try at least, considering that I was also the one who made the first.." Which is when Virgil whirls back around to Janus to find his demeanor has changed, and looks alot more.. Sad, per say? Contemplative, as he leans on his staff.

"I don't entertain petty jokes." Comes the quieter but still biting reply.

"There's a sunflower stitched on the inside of the left sleeve. It took 4 tries to get the stem to lay right. I complained about it for over an hour because I didnt think it had enough petals to look like a sunflower, because I couldn't undo it and waste thread fixing it. Your name is stitched into the inner neckline of the hood, where the biggest rip had been. Mine is stitched just under that sunflower."

"..they say you're called 'Dee.'"

"Only by those who don't know Me. one always needs a cover name for when they get popular, dont they?"

By this point Virgil is gripping the jacket so tight, disbelief in his eyes.

"They say you died, the farm, it caught fire?"

Janus takes his glove off his more scarred hand and gestures with it to his face, then the rest of his body, smiling softly in that melancholy way.

"Yes, well, It didnt stick, as you can see. Clearly."

And that's all it takes for Virgil to rush forward and scoop janus up into a tight but careful hug with a shaking;

"I missed you, Janus."

"I missed you too, Virgil."

...

Bonus funfact rambles for this au:

the main thing that makes it go from anxceit to dlampr is the royal ball involving a buncha royals coming to court Virgil and it becoming a big adorably silly polyamourous mess djdjd

...

I have so many feels abt it and most of them are giggling abt Janus gingerly crafting Virgil a new comfort hoodie type deal, putting a lot of care in every stitch to make sure its durable and able to last the years he knows it will be cherished. It isn't quite a replacement, as the first now exists primarily as a momento, but it gives Virgil a new comfort. A gift that says 'im still here, I'm still yours if you'll have me, you arent alone anymore.' And Virgil is able to actually wear it. Not just tie it around his shoulders or hold it, but actually be engulfed in a snug comforting coat, fit with extra pockets for nessesary backup gear/snacks, the same sewn-in style of purple plaid patches(this time much more stylized, as the base jacket is hand-made from scratch this time, not tattered), the royal storm cloud emblem on the chest, and a hidden embroidered sunflower just inside the left sleeve for Virgil to feel and fidget with and remember to breath.

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #anxceit #romantic anxceit #luka writes #luka's aus

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maoam · 3 years

Text

WHY HINATA IS NOT A GOOD CHARACTER

INTRODUCTION

I wanted to take a deeper look at Hinata’s character, considering there are a lot of claims about her out there, that she’s strong, that she’s kind, that she’s complex and relatable, that she’s the perfect woman and that she’s at least better than Sakura. I don’t really think so, and I’ll explain why. I’ll be focusing on canon, so no fillers or novels will be included in this post. I’ll say this as a warning, if you’re a fan of her character this probably won’t be something you’ll like. This will be tagged with the anti tags and put under read more so please do not complain if tumblr somehow puts this in the normal tags, it is not intentional. Also Sakura stans please don’t write lengthy comments about Sakura under this, I’m not a fan of her either and I’ll write about her later. Make your own post instead.

”HINATA IS STRONG AND THE BEST KUNOICHI”

Hinata is generally really bad as a shinobi and I’m not sure where the claims that she is strong come from. Hinata's entire character revolves around her being weak. This could have been fine if she actually developed, or if she found some other area for herself, yet she's mediocre at best and a waste of panels at worst, because she never becomes good or strong at anything. She’s not only physically weak from start to finish, but she’s also the equivalent of a damsel in distress. Everytime Hinata attempts to do something, she ends up failing, getting beaten up and having to be saved. She lost to her sister who is five years younger than her, which is what marked her as a failure in her clan. She tried to fight Neji in the chunin exams and ended up coughing up blood and losing her consciousness, and Naruto had to beat Neji for her. After Kabuto heals her fully, she spends the rest of part 1 either sleeping or missing in action. Very underwhelming.

If this had been only the beginning, it would have maybe been fine, but it’s a reoccuring pattern with her character. She throws herself in front of Pain, managing to do nothing but get one-paneled and almost killed. Even at the start of the war she had to be saved by Naruto. She tried to run to Naruto and tripped over a rock. Actually, she’s so weak she got Neji killed, when he had to jump in front of her so she wouldn’t get impaled. Why is she even in the front lines when she can’t fight? Even in Naruto the Last movie she had to be saved multiple times. In Boruto the movie she is still useless and reckless, leaving her daughter’s side to help Naruto, ending up defeated and having to be healed by Sakura once again.

I can’t say she’s mentally strong either. She has the personality of someone who hates conflict and tries to avoid it as best as they can, to the point of agreeing with others on everything, as Neji pointed out. Even without him saying it out loud, most of Hinata’s moments that aren’t her thinking about Naruto are her doing exactly this. This is not the personality of someone who is strong mentally. It’s the personality of someone who is too weak to have their own mind, someone who will go with the flow and is easily led and convinced. It can be dangerous the more you think about it. Hinata is also the bystander who never stands up for Naruto despite liking and admiring him. If she’s a compassionate girl, why isn’t she showing this by reaching out to Naruto and befriending him? Why doesn’t she show he’s not alone? Why is she only drawing inspiration from him? I don’t normally watch fillers, but there was one filler scene unrelated to Hinata where this girl says if you only look at the loser and do nothing, you aren’t much better than the oppressors, which probably wasn’t meant to be a call out for Hinata, but ended up being so anyway. Another thing that’s annoying is how she is berating herself often, yet doing nothing, it comes off as self-pity. Even in the Last movie, she is talking about how she must be a bad sister for knitting a scarf when her sister is in danger. Then why are you doing it and not stopping? Of course everytime this happens Naruto must cheer her up because she just can’t stop moping around and doing something herself.

Aside from all this, from the very beginning Hinata’s honor needed to be defended by Naruto because she couldn’t stand up for herself. Of course, after Naruto’s words she did stood up for a moment, and that was good, but it should have been a wake up call which altered her course. Instead, she kept doing the same she always did. If we take the Last movie into consideration, she’s still not strong enough to do anything even about her crush on Naruto. She needs genjutsu and Sakura to do the work for her. So even when it comes to the only thing she cares about 90 % of the time, which is Naruto-kun, she can’t do anything about it. That’s really sad.

”HINATA IS KIND AND SELFLESS”

There’s one mistake I see people make often, and that’s assuming characters that are quiet and shy are automatically kind. I wouldn’t say Hinata is as kind as the fandom makes her out to be. She simply comes off that way because you don’t really see her have her own opinions or disagree with the other characters. Hinata’s shyness on the other hand is most of the time a fetishized quirk to appeal to certain subset of fans. Her shyness doesn’t stop her from taking exams or hanging around Shino and Kiba, or talking to characters other than Naruto. She also has enough attitude to rub Neji’s status as a house slave in his face during their match, but because she stutters Naruto-kun every five minutes she’s supposedly kind. Kindness is shown through actions, not through standing around and stuttering. For comparison, we see Ino befriend an unpopular kid like Sakura, and give her confidence. That’s an act of kindness. Did Hinata ever cared about helping the branch members in any way? No.

She's supposedly "kind" but like I mentioned before she never shows this kindness by standing up for Naruto, or reaching out to him. She simply stares at him behind a tree and draws inspiration from his suffering. The only time she can actually stand up is to selfishly confess her love and die. She even said she felt like being selfish, and like I said she knew there was nothing she could do, she was told she’d only be in the way. She came there only to confess and commit suicide. This actually reminds me of another anime where this female character, after being unable to receive a male character’s love killed herself in front of him and said ”now you’ll never forget me”.

In the end, she cares about nothing but her own hormonal urges. Hinata tried to help Naruto cheat to pass an exam at the risk of disqualifying her whole team. This is the first individual action we see her character take. Did she consider Shino and Kiba during that moment? No, she didn’t even have an inner conflict on whether she should do this, whether it’s right towards her teammates. Even Naruto considers he might get Hinata, Sasuke and Sakura all in trouble if he accepts Hinata’s offer, which is why he doesn’t do it. Then when Hinata wonders if she can cheer for Naruto during his and Kiba’s match, she thinks Kiba might get mad. It’s more about how Kiba views her rather than whether she should cheer for Kiba because they are in the same team and should support each other. During the Pain attack, she left an injured shinobi, who couldn’t move, to go to Naruto, even when said shinobi told her she would only be in Naruto’s way. She didn’t try to save people, she simply wanted to confess and act in front of Naruto. This is about a threat to the entire village, which includes her comrades and her sister and she’s thinking only about her romantic feelings towards a guy she had maybe two conversations with and who barely remembers she exists. How is she better than Sakura? War arc really was the icing on the cake that Hinata’s character is only about Naruto. We should not forget the infamous ”Naruto-kun’s hand is so big… so manly...” is that really the right time to be thirsty? When Neji just died? Shikamaru mentions that he could help out Naruto as a right-hand man and then Hinata thinks “I-I want to be by Naruto-kun’s side too.” Then there’s of course the scene where she starts running to Naruto, leaving her post and teammates, even when Naruto is a mile away and already in the hands of medical ninjas, and even that ends up her pathetically tripping over a rock. Kiba has to remind her to use her byakugan because she is too busy gushing about Naruto. Eventually her only last line is “Naruto-kun”, when everyone is put into IT. It’s like a parody by this point. She doesn’t have any concern for her sister, her father, her teammates, Kurenai or her baby. It’s just “Naruto-kun” like it always is. Even in the Last movie, she is knitting a scarf for Naruto during the mission where they’re supposed to save her sister. Who brings a scarf on a mission? Why is she thinking about her romantic gift to Naruto so much she has to take it with her on a mission which focus is saving her sister? She even looks more devastated when Toneri tores the scarf apart than she ever does for Hanabi’s sake. It’s just silly and selfish.

”HINATA IS A COMPLEX CHARACTER”

Is she complex though? Her development goes from standing behind a tree looking at her crush she never talks to, to committing suicide for feelings that could never be reciprocated, to… waiting that a genjutsu and Sakura guilt trip Naruto enough for him to be with her? Like I already mentioned her character revolves entirely around Naruto, she has no hobbies or interests we know of aside from him. She has no motivations aside from being by Naruto’s side. She once had an interesting goal and backstory, but that was never fully explored, and it turned into her wanting Naruto’s attention and thinking about him. Her clan plot was irrelevant, she showed no interest in wanting to be a leader or even wanting to make things better for the branch members. It’s funny because immediately after the ending, no one cared about the Hyuuga branch and how the storyline was dropped and had no resolution. It was only when Hinata was being attacked for not showing to care did her fans start to over-analyze all the panels looking for the tiniest little clue that might hint at some changes.

It’s possible to be both shy, anxious and quiet and also to be strong, motivated and have interests and dreams. Hinata is never strong for herself, she’s only strong to be with Naruto, to die for Naruto, to motivate Naruto, to have Naruto look at her even for a moment. All the while Naruto doesn’t pay much attention to her unless she’s literally dying in front of him or she slapped him. Even when a big climax is happening, what’s on her mind is always her romantic feelings and her crush. I saw someone say if she were a male character, and she pulled this pointless sacrifice and theatrical confession in the final fight of an arc, she would’ve been universally mocked. Actually, I think even if it was Sakura who did this instead of Hinata the former would have been mocked, because their stans are unable to see the same flaws in their own fave as they see in the other girl. Naruto is a battle manga, characters are supposed to contribute to the defeat of the villain in some material way. The only reason people praise Hinata for what she did in the Pain arc is because they either pity her or because they’re men who think women killing themselves for a man is great because it boosts their ego.

I also notice many Hinata fans don’t notice the vanity in their own fandom. They call Hinata “princess”, ”heiress”, ”Konoha’s first lady” and draw fanart glorifying these concepts and how it makes Hinata good, because they like the superficial status, what they don’t care is the titles are unearned. I thought Hinata’s appeal was that she’s the underdog and a loser? Or maybe her real appeal is the idea of getting everything you want without doing much in order to get it? Another claim is that Hinata is the perfect woman, which you might see from men. This is what I might dislike the most. Men judge Hinata’s worth and whether she’s a good character based on what kind of woman they want and think is the right kind of woman. Hinata has big breasts, she’s submissive, she has no other interests than the man she likes, and she’s the only girl in her class who didn’t go for the popular guy. Many men hate Sakura, Ino and Karin for being fangirls but praise Hinata for being a fangirl. Basically to them if a character is a fangirl of the wrong guy, she’s a stupid slut. If she fangirls their self insert, she’s wife material and the ideal woman. If Sakura has to be saved, she’s useless. If Hinata tries to kill herself for Naruto, she’s ”so kind”. Rin is a one-dimensional character, but Hinata saying Naruto-kun for the 50th time is depth. Hinata is also claimed to be better than the other girls because she had more kids and thus is more ”fertile”. It’s like feminism never happened and we are back to the 16th century. Why are we judging women’s worth on how many kids they have and how much they can please a man?

I could also talk about how Studio Pierrot turned Hinata into a hentai bait for otakus, which also plays a part in her popularity, but I don’t think it’s necessary, so I will just offer this picture which speaks for itself.

END NOTE

Hinata is simply just a sexist stereotype, a shadow of a real woman, with not much depth, and who is certainly not better than Sakura either. Both of them are fangirls whose characters revolve around men. It’s wild to me how there are women who genuinely act like one must be a misogynist if they reject Hinata’s superficial, one-dimensional and boy crazy character. Her character itself is misogynist for crying out loud. And honestly, what does it say when even the creator himself assumes that Hinata is someone’s favorite character because he must like big boobs?

#anti hinata #anti hinata hyuga #mp #I'm not sure if I'm satisfied with this #but there's just not much to talk about when it comes to her character #it would just become repetitive

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Note

Could I request a Bucky Barnes x reader smut? Basically she and Bucky have been together for some time and maybe it’d be a little angst where the two are talking about the future and Bucky not thinking he can ever have a normal future? Which would result in soft smut and later reader being revealed as pregnant so Bucky finally gets his family

I’m Home

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | based on the request ^^

Warnings | angst, smut, oral sex (m receiving), fluff, pregnancy, mentions of death

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

The Wilson’s boat rocked sturdily upon the water, swaying as the boats worked aboard. Your hand held the weight of a silver spanner, twirling it in your fist as though it were a knife, thinking of the long road ahead of you. Sam had the shield now, that was a good start, but still, there was a ways to go until the world recognised him as the captain that he was meant to be.

There was so much destruction ongoing in the world, what with the flag smashers, and whomever the power broker was, and surely, you knew on the shallow surface, that there would be masses more problems to arise. It was exhausting, to know that there was no end to the war on earth, and that you were surely going to be fighting the threats until you could no more.

Bucky felt the same; he had just gone from one war to another, losing everyone that he cared about along the way. Steve had given everything up to finally find peace, and yet, the two did not share the same opportunity. An escape was never laid at your feet, instead, the pair of you were trapped in the cycle of cruelty, being blended around in a shredder by reality.

“Hey.” A voice confiscated you from the lonesome containment of your thoughts; it was Sam’s hosting sister, Sarah. I’m her own way, though you doubted that she would never admit such a thing, she was a hero. She had become a widow, and not to mention she remained a stable mother to keep her boys afloat, as well as nurturing half the kids that lived within close proximity.

“Hi Sarah.” You put the tool down, giving her your ample attention as you stood, tugging your fingers into the loops of your jeans as you stepped out of the boat, and onto the dock. “Anything I can help with?” It hadn’t passed your attention that Sam and Bucky had disappeared, but not into ash like last time. Instead, they had walked off in the direction of the house, most likely meddling about with a ball, in the back yard with Jim and Jody.

“I just came to let you know I’ve made the sofa up for you and Bucky. Are you sure you’ll be all good, I could always kick Sam outta his bed and make him sleep on the living room floor?” The two of you had nightmares, if you were to be separated from him for even a night, it was certain that the pair of you would greatly suffer. That was something you didn’t want to burden any of the Wilson’s with, screaming in the middle of the night because flashes from your past struck an unconscious nerve.

“All good, and thank you Sarah. You didn’t have to let us stay here, we both appreciate it, a hell of a lot.” One thing that you had learnt throughout your years was to show gratitude. The smallest amount shared had the ability to spring up moods, and had even set you on a much more heroic path than the one that you had been originally been placed upon.

“You’ve earned your stay.” Sam’s sister shrugged with modesty, acknowledging the help that you and Bucky had not only given to Sam, but to her family’s legacy. The two of you had aided with fixing the old wreckage that had now returned to the form of a boat, keeping it afloat rather than permitting it to sink from the quarrels that Sam had with himself regarding fixing the damned yet meaningful port of transport.

“This life you have, it’s great. I get it’s not easy, but it’s beautiful. You have two wonderful kids, that you’ve done such a great job raising, and not to mention, these community that you have is so loving and kind, even to us outsiders.” The pair of you had paused outside of her front door, speaking. “Sam is lucky to have you, he truly is.”

“Well, maybe one day this life could be something similar to what you’ll have.” The sister of your friend smiled, though your mirroring expression retracted. In a stumble of thought, you shook your head, not believing that possibility. This all was... perfect. That was something that you had never had, nor would you think that you’d ever be permitted such a peaceful lifestyle.

“I don’t think that would work out.” You sincerely mumbled, feeling the sad swelling in your chest at the prospect of all the luxuries that life had denied both you and Bucky of. It wasn’t fair all the same, but the two of you were used to being denied human rights, let alone the simplicity of nothing more than a life together. “As nice as it sounds, me and Buck aren’t really cut out for all this I suppose.”

“The world does not choose who can and cannot have a family, there’s always a way. Just because you haven’t had the most ideal line of story does not at all mean that you can’t make it work, from as much as i know, you two deserve a life together, that doesn’t include being shot at, or shooting at other people. Sometimes, you’ve just gotta go for it, and hope for the best.” She gave you a final nod, before heading inside, and you trailed after her into her her residency.

The two of you went your separate ways, and there, you saw Bucky, sat up on the sofa, his hands clasped together as his eyes stared towards the tan bag, that concealed not the shape, but the Stars and Stripes of the infamous shield. It was much a relief that it was no longer in Walker’s toxic clutch, however its presence, among other things, were taking a clear toll on your boyfriend.

“You ever feel like we’re stuck?” The air was tense around you both as he spoke solemnly, it diverting to match the mood of his question. “Like we’re us, and I love us, but it makes me think that it’s it. Just me and you, on this path for the rest of our lives, never getting a compensated break, nor an average person’s future. I want this, what these people here have, not the combat that is aided by this metal arm, or the associations that stick to us like life lines.”

“All the time, it’s on my mind James.” With a sigh, you came to sit beside him on the couch, resting your head against his bionic shoulder. “I ever wonder if there’s a timeline of you and me where there’s none of this ruckus, we just have a nice little house in a quiet and accepting place, and maybe a kid or two in the future.”

“I’d give anything up for that.” He looked at you, almost wide eyed, as his hand slithered down onto your knee cap, rubbing small circles as he wore a blunt and endearing smile upon his infatuating lips. “I mean that Buck, that sounds...”

“Perfect?” He asked, leaning closer as he grabs your chin with his wondrous fingers, his nose brushing alongside your own as his puckered lips fell upon yours, earning a small hun of content from within you. “Because you’re perfect to me, and no matter what life we are encased in, I want to share it with you. I want stare at the night sky and watch the moonlight illuminate the side of your face, and the stars reflect in your entrapping eyes, that I want to look into like a medium’s orbs forever, because that is how I will see the future that I ever so hope for.”

“How long have you been working on that one Barnes, because you are usually not that smooth?” A small laugh erupted from your mouth, but you were quickly silenced as you felt a cold metal hand slither up and beneath the back of your tank top, rubbing along the seam of your spine, as his lips ran down the column of your throat, evoking small and delicate whimpers out of you.

“Shut up doll, because I really want to fuck you now, and those words leaving your mouth are making it kinda hard to concentrate.” A furrow imbedded between his brows, as you tilted your head at him, a smirk proclaiming your expression as you pulled the material over your head, and reached behind yourself to unclip the back of your bra.

“Kinda hard to concentrate, hun?” You asked nonchalantly as his gaze zeroed in on your bare breasts, his hands smoothing along your ribcage as he adjusted his grip of you so that he was palming at your breasts, and squeezing the nipples. “I want you in me baby, I’ve practically gone days without you inside of me.” Licking your lips, you reached down to palm your beloved through his layers, earning a positive groan from the former assassin.

“Hours, you mean. I fingered you on the road trip here.” Yes, that was true, however, it was only his fingers, not even the metal ones, and whilst you loved what they alone could do, he had to be discreet as you were sat on the back of the truck, which had carried the primary parts for the Wilson’s family boat. If you were to scream out, they’d have surely thought that you’d fallen off the back of the truck and pull over, or if they had much sense, they’d have noticed that there was more going on than two passengers sat side by side on the journey to their small neighbourhood by the docks,

“You heard me Barnes, otherwise I’m sure Sam wouldn’t have any problem if I came to his room in this state of undress that I am currently portraying.” Growling was never Bucky’s fortes, however the sound aggressively ripped through the tunnel of his throat, as he threw off his grey top, quickly unfastening his belt, as he awaited for you to strip the rest of your clothing before him.

But rather than doing so, as he stood before you, your hand had trouble resisting the sight of his cock that had bobbed to attention, and thus, you wrapped it around his toned flesh, giving it a couple jerks that had his head reeling back, before you tongued his tip, moaning to yourself at the taste of him invading your sensitive taste buds. “Love your cock.”

As soon as you said that, Bucky gently gathered your head in a ponytail so that it was free from bombarding your face, and groaned as quiet as he could as you sucked him in your mouth, running your tongue up the side of his shaft. “Is that a part of your dream world baby doll, the sight of my cock throbbing to be inching down that perfect little throat of yours?”

To answer him, you pressed your head down deeper, humming around him as your eyes ogled up at the sight of your super soldier, who was trying his hardest to keep his eyes open, and attuned to the sight of you. He held his bottom lip between his teeth, as you lightly gagged around him, pulling off him, and squeezing his balls, before running your hungry tongue along the middle of his sack.

“Always. It would be a dream if you made love to me right here and now though, I’m not sure I can wait any longer James.” Bucky took a long inhale, before ravishingly pulling down your jeans and panties in one go, and tossing you so that he was below your form, and you hovered over him, toying with his erect cock. “I love you so much Bucky, and I’m scared of what’s to come. I have a feeling that there’s gonna be a fight.”

“There’s always a fight doll face.” He rubbed his thumb soothingly across your jaw, pulling your hips down closer so that you were rubbing your slick folds against his standing cock. “But this is what we’re fighting for, the rest of our lives together. I’d be damned, one day after this, and if I were to die, I’d be a happy man. There’d be the memory of you to keep me forever happy in the afterlife, and not to mention, there’d be no more wars for me to participate in.”

“I’m not going to let you die Buck, even hypothetically. We saw how your little hypothetical synopsis went last time.” Tapping his cock against your clit, a breathy sound evicted from your lips, as you stared down at the two of you intimately touching, the sight alone making you more turned on and impatient. “No one is allowed to kill you, otherwise I’ll unleash hell on all their flag smashing asses.”

Giving him one last stroke, you guided his tip towards your entrance, removing your hand once you had him situated, so that you could rest it upon his sturdy shoulder, and sink down on him, the feeling of him stretching you being the most euphoric sensation that you had ever endured. Hushed moans ceased from the both of you, as Bucky’s hands gripped your ass cheeks, only adding to all of the pleasure that was erupting within you.

“Think your pussy is gonna kill me before anyone else does; your so tight.” His pitch had rose, as your fingertips danced along the left side of his handsome face, invisibly connecting the dots of his beauty marks. You allowed the pair of you to adjust for a simple moment, before you began to raise your hips, sliding up his super soldier rod, only to slide down it again.

The actions were repeated, as your own hands trailed down his warm skin, to drag down the golden lines of his vibranium arm, only to bring the weapon to your mouth, and kiss every black finger up, as you tried your best to muffle the moans that were hoping to reap free. “So fucking big, I love you and your cock.” You muttered, your sight turning blurry as Bucky realised that it was his turn to do the work, and thus, he thrusted up into you, making echoing sounds of your skin slapping together reverberate around the room.

“Love you more.” He gritted his teeth, pulling his metallic hand away from your numb lips, so that he could swirl the elegant digits around your clit, the action provoking whimpers to rapidly surpass your exterior, as you bit harshly onto your own lip, and screwed your eyes shut. “Cum for me doll, want you to cover my hard cock in everything you have. Come on baby, you can do it.”

Without much thought, as your mind was too scrambled to do so, you reached for Bucky’s spare hand, pulling it to your mouth as you sucked on his fingers as though you were blowing him. A low moan that was dialled down from the presence of his flesh digits, ran from your mouth, as you began to bounce your hips, chasing and eventually reaching your high. You came around him, pushing him too over the edge, his seed filling your walls, as you collapsed atop of him, huffing from exhaustion as you removed his salivated hand from the realms of your mouth, resting your head against his panting chest.

Stringed sighs fell from Bucky’s breath as he tried to catch his own breath. His hands rubbed your back, not only to comfort you, but also to subconsciously pull you closer against him, and his softening cock that was still inside you, and was keeping his cum plugged within your tender and pulsating walls. If life was easier, there’d be more time for this, and that, but for now, it was just every now and then. Maybe you’d win this fight and survive until the next one, but maybe, you’d lose and never battle again.

Life was precious, that was something that you had not only learned as an avenger, but also something that had been told to you by Isiah. That man thought that you deserved a normal life, no fighting, no super soldiers. He himself was the biggest yet silent critic of those with additional strength, but his opinion was never going to sway you, not as you stared out into Sarah’s backyard, and watched the man that you loved play with the boys.

They had the shield, and were whisking it through the air like a frisbee; dangerous, yes, but again, life could only amount to so much without an ounce of pain. A content and satisfied smile absorbed any pain on your face, you were enraptured with the sight of Bucky like this, he was like an uncle to these two kids. He was no captain America, that was for sure, but you didn’t want a man in Stars and Stripes, all you wanted was him to be at peace, and it was a fact unbeknownst to him, that you had made such an alternative to that.

“Still want all this?” Sarah emerged, a cheap yet formidable bottle of wine pursed in her hand, as she held two clear and tall glasses in her hand. You hummed, watching as she poured the thin red consistency into one glass, but as she went to fill the other, you held out your hand, shaking your head. The woman was confused, last time you had visited, and were entangled on her sofa with the limbs of your boyfriend and a shaggy old blanket, you had kindly accepted her offer.

“Sure do.” You sighed, staring out into the green abyss where Jim was hanging from Bucky’s arm like it were a branch. “How do you do this, this whole mother thing? I’ve never been able to wrap my head around how you make it look so easy, it’s just, you do such a good job.” Your palms rested flat on your thighs as you laughed at Sam ordering Jody to jump on Bucky’s back, as he fell down in faux defeat.

“It never is easy y/n.” She placed the open bottle down, along with the mismatched glasses, that were asymmetrical considering one was half filled and the other wallowed in emptiness. “But every step of difficulty is worth it. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss their father, but they’re my priority. For Jim and Jody, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do, and you’d understand that if you ever opened yourself up to giving your life of heroism up to have all this.”

“I might have to.” Twiddling with your fingers, glancing up at your boyfriend, realising that he was in fact not looking over, you clasped your intwined hands over your stomach, smiling softly to yourself. “And maybe not having another option is the best option for me and Buck, because we don’t have to fight with ourselves over being included in our duties, we have new ones.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Sarah asked, resting her nurturing hand upon the tile of your shoulder, prompting you to turn your face towards her. There was a conflict in your eyes, it was something that she recognised her younger self having once worn. It was the idea of putting everything aside, all for a child, everything that she had ever known, so that she could put her baby boy first. “Does Bucky know?”

“He will.” You shifted your head down, unsure of yourself. This had been what you had wanted, and whilst you still envied Sarah for the role she had, you were hurt. A part of you wanted to be an avenger until you were nothing but a soul drifting in the abyss of non existence, another didn’t want to let the knowledge of being a carrier for a new future crumble you. “I just need a moment to tell him.”

“I’ve got it.” She sent you a wink, picking up the items she had brought out, before she called on Sam and the kids to come inside. Sarah had gifted you the opportunity of revealing the truth to your partner with no one else around; you appreciated that. As he stalked closer, you met him halfway, sinking into his arms as he hugged you.

“Looked like you were having fun with the boys.” You verbally noted, loving the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. “You’re amazing Bucky Barnes, to me and to everyone. I just, don’t want you to freak out on me, I have something big, really big, to tell you, and-“

“Baby, I know.” He smiled, pulling back so that he could look you in the face. “I have super human senses, I heard their little heart beat for the first time yesterday. We’re having a baby, and I couldn’t be happier about it. In fact, I want to ask you if you’ll accept my question of making Sam the godfather.” You nodded, tears standing in your eyes, as you brought the man down for a kiss.

“Yes. But I’m not sure that he’ll be praising us for making a baby when we technically created him or her on the couch inside.” Bucky shook his head at you, kissing your forehead before walking inside with you, preparing to tell the Wilson family, that had along the way became your own, the good news- well, not the sofa bit.

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falcqns · 3 years

Text

You’re Worth It

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x College Student!Reader

Summary: You visit Bucky’s apartment for the first time, and assure him that he's worth so much more than he thinks.

Warnings: SMUT! age gap but its legal, very insecure Bucky, oral (f receiving).

A/N: Hope you enjoy!

You stood outside Bucky’s apartment door, watching your boyfriend dig his keys out of his skinny jeans, his other hand on a bag of groceries that contained your soon-to-be dinner. He pulled them out and located the door key, before turning to you. “Are you sure you want to stay here tonight, doll? I’m more than okay staying at your apartment.” He said, his eyes not leaving the ground in front of him.

You smiled, and placed your backpack on the ground beside you before turning and grabbing his stubbly face in your hands. “Baby. I want to stay here with you. I don’t care what it looks like. Whether it’s dirty or clean, the cutest apartment in the world, or the ugliest. It’s yours, and I want to see it.” You said, and he smiled before nodding. “Okay.” He said. He put the key in the door, and unlocked it. You followed him into the small apartment, and was immediately surrounded by the smell that was undeniably Bucky.

You loved the way he smelled, you always had. He smelled like a field of lavender flowers on a beach, with a hint of salt water. He dropped his keys on the table, and turned around to face you. You placed your backpack on the floor again, this time by the table and looked around. There wasn't much, but he had a small chair and a side table, and a small tv stand where his tv sat. There was a chair in the corner by the kitchen island, and that was it. Your eyes ran over the pile of blankets on the floor, and you could feel your heart break.

He slept on the floor.

He chuckled as you looked around. “Sad, huh?” He said, walking into the kitchen with the food in hand. “No.” You said, and followed him to the kitchen. “Like I said outside. It's you. You are building a life after a lot of suffering. Nothing about this is sad.” He shook his head as he took out the carrots and potatoes from the bag.

“I couldn't even afford a full couch.” He said. You dropped your phone on the counter gently, and wrapped your arms around his waist. You rested your head in between his shoulder blades, and inhaled his smell.

“Baby, it’s okay. You were gone for 5 years. So was half the world. Before that, you were living in Wakanda, where you didn't have to deal with the stresses of regular life. And, before that, you were trapped within someone who wasn't you. Don’t blame yourself for any of this. I love you for who you are.” You said, and Bucky turned around, his arms circling your waist.

“How did I get so lucky?” he mumbled into your hair. You giggled, and lifted your head. “By saving my life,” You said, before pressing a kiss to his lips. He kissed back immediately, and pulled you closer.

You pulled away when the need for oxygen became dire, and you smiled at them again. “All I did was pull you out of the way of a car that was out of control, doll.” He said, and ran his hand down your arm as you pulled out of the hug. “I would’ve gotten hit if you didn't. I’m not a super soldier like you are, its highly unlikely I would have survived if it weren't for my hero,” You mentioned, as you walked over to your backpack and pulling out your laptop.

Bucky chuckled, and watched as you sat down in the chair across from the tv. You tucked your feet under yourself, and sat your laptop on the arm before powering it on.

Bucky began to move about the kitchen and make the two of you dinner. No matter what you said, he couldn't stop feeling guilty about the state of his apartment. He could have at least bought a blow up mattress for you to sleep on, so you wouldn't be stuck sleeping on the hard wood floor with him. Better yet, he could have bought a bed. He had a bedroom, but he didn't feel comfortable in there. He glanced over at you while he washed the carrots in the sink and saw how you stretched your back before returning to your homework.

It wasn't an unusual occurrence for him to hang out with you while you do homework. He actually enjoyed watching you do school work. he could barely remember school, and he never got to go to college. Between working and taking care of Steve, he both didn't have time and couldn't afford it. Then the war started, and he thought about going after, but his capture by HYDRA kinda ruined that one. During his time in Wakanda, he had thought about going to college, but at that point he was still a wanted criminal and that was out of the question. He had been thinking about it more recently, and had decided to wait until he was finished making his amends to enrol somewhere.

Mainly, he was just happy that you were getting an education. He planned on staying with you forever, marrying you, having kids with you, and growing old(er) with you, and he knew your future children would benefit from at least one of their parents having up-to-date school education. And, by up to date school education, he meant a curriculum that was developed this century.

He stirred the potatoes in the pot and smiled as he heard your fingers tapping on the keyboard. God, he loved you. You loved him for who he was, you didn't judge him, and most importantly, you didn't blame him for anything that happened. He hadn't been expecting to be so open with you about his past when he asked you out on a date, but you knew who he was instantly, and thanked him for saving your life. He may have physically saved your life that day, but he felt that you saved his life in every other way by just being yourself.

He continued to listen to you tapping on the keyboard, the clicking of your knuckles as you cracked them, and the slow but rhythmic breathing as you focused on your work.

Dinner was finished a few minutes later, and you closed your laptop just as Bucky was plating the veggies. You placed your laptop back in the bag, and joined Bucky on the ground to eat.

“Did you finish your homework?” He asked, and you nodded. You swallowed before speaking. “Yeah. I can't submit it yet, but it’s finished and ready to go,” You said.

The two of you continued making small talk throughout the night, and Bucky tried to find a way to convince you that the two of you should sleep at your apartment instead, but he knew that it wouldn't work. He tried to bite back the tears while you were in the showers and he laid out the blankets and pillows on the floor for the night. They almost fell again when he walked out of the bathroom from having his shower and saw you snuggled up on the ground, scrolling on TikTok. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he got a cup of water for himself and for you. He thought he had a handle on his emotions by the time he had settled next to you, but the dam broke when he laid down and your had found its way to your chest as it usually did.

Your head shot up when you heard his shaky breathing and his sniffling, and you immediately wrapped your arms around his neck. “What’s wrong, Buck?” you whispered, and his arms wrapped themselves around your waist before he answered.

“You deserve to be sleeping on a bed.” he whispered, and you shook your head.

“No. Don’t do that to yourself. I know how weird it is for you to sleep in a bed, and that's okay. I’ve been camping before, and I’m perfectly fine with sleeping on the ground. I’m fine, baby.” You whispered, but Bucky still shook his head.

“I should be able to afford a bed,” He said, and you sat up. “Stop. Don’t think that. You’re doing the best you can with what you have. You can barely afford the bills you have already because of what the government is paying you, which is way less than you should be. You’re doing great with what you have.” You reminded him, and he nodded.

“I know. But, I probably should have spent the little money I did have on a bed rather than a TV, but if I don't have the TV on, my mind runs to places I don't want it to. I know that’s not healthy, but neither is reliving everything I did for those years. I wasn't really thinking about having anyone to share my nights with during that time, so a bed didn't seem important. But, I should have bought a mattress when we started dating. Everything is just way too expensive compared to when I was growing up.” He said, a slight chuckle in his voice. You smiled, and pushed him back by the chest.

He smiled suggestively when you straddled his waist, his hands coming to rest on your hips. “Lets not talk about it anymore, okay? Maybe me riding you will help you forget it.” You said, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips that were red and slightly swollen from his tears. He didn't say anything in return, but kissed you back while running your hands up your back and under your sleep shirt. He moaned when he felt that you weren't wearing a bra.

“Naughty girl, not wearing a bra,” He whispered, as you kissed down his neck. He grabbed the hem of the shirt and pulled it up, leaving you in only your underwear. You moaned at his husky voice and ground your hips down on him. He moaned, and grasped your hips in his hands.

He let you grind on him a little more, thoroughly enjoying it, before flipping you over. He trailed his hands down to your underwear, hooking his thumbs into the straps, before pulling them down your legs.

He moaned when you were completely exposed to him. You looked at him with lust filled eyes, as he spread your legs, and settled himself on his stomach in between them.

He lifted your legs over his shoulders, and pressed kisses up your slit, making eye contact with you. “Fuckin’ beautiful.” he said, before diving into you.

He swiped his tongue over your clit a few times, before attaching his mouth to it and sucking. You jolted slightly when you felt the cold metal of his pointer finger slowly push inside of you. He pushed it to the hilt, and then arched up to rub up against your g spot.

You cried out suddenly and tangled your hands in his hair when his finger started vibrating right up against your g spot, causing you to fall over the edge into orgasm almost instantly.

Bucky pulled off of you with a pop, and grinned, still moving his finger in and out while you rode out your orgasm. Once your breathing slowed, he pulled his finger out, and put it into his mouth, sucking your juices off of it. He laid on his back, and guided you with his hands until you were on top again.

You began to shimmy down his body, but Bucky shook his head, and pulled you back up. “No. If you do that, I won't last, and I want to cum in your pussy not your mouth,” He said, and you bit your lip, and nodded.

His hands gripped your hips while you reached down for his now leaking cock, and gave it a few firm strokes, before lining it up at your entrance. You leaned forward and gripped your hands on his shoulder, before sliding down on him slowly.

“Fuck, doll. Always feels so damn good,” Bucky moaned, his hands tightening on your hips. You threw your head back and moaned as you began to move your hips, with Bucky’s help.

“Love seein’ you like this, babydoll.” Bucky rasped out, hit hips thrusting up to meet your movements. “Love how needy you get when you’re on top.” His words made you clench around him, and Bucky grasped your hips tighter to pull you down on his cock harder and faster each time.

You could feel the pressure building in your abdomen, and you knew Bucky was close as well based on the movements of his hips. You ground your hips into his before continuing to bounce on him.

“F-fuck,” Bucky grunted as he was used over the edge, and released inside of you. You threw your head back as you felt Bucky’s cum smash against your walls, which sent you over the edge, and you shook as you came.

A few minutes later, Bucky has cleaned both you and him up, and was coming back from tossing the wash cloth in the laundry hamper when he saw you sound asleep on the ground where he left you. He smiled slightly and carried you into the bedroom, along with the blankets and pillows.

He laid you down and straightened out the blankets, and put your pillow under your head, before laying down next to you, and pulling you into his arms. He drifted off to sleep seconds later with the plan on looking for a second hand bed in the morning. You deserved to sleep on a bed, and so did he, he realized.

At least the plush carpeting is softer than the hard wood.

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine #bucky x y/n #fatws bucky #mcu bucky barnes #Sebastian Stan #bucky barnes smut #Smut #fluff #angst

1K notes · View notes

cowboycakes · 3 years

Text

Do You Get My Letters

✥ Pairing: Levi x fem!Reader, somewhat Reiner x fem!Reader

✥ Themes: Fluff, angst, sadness, big ass plot twist

✥ Warnings: Female bodied reader (she/her pronouns,) Pregnancy and birth (nothing gory.) Mentions of death, violence, and threats. Manipulation.

✥ Synopsis: You are carrying Reiner's baby when he betrays Paradis. Levi decides to step in.

✥ Word Count: 2.2k

(there is a part two up to this fic, but i've decided i'm going to rewrite the ending at some point.)

Anon's Request: Hi! I saw your requests are open so here I want to give my little scenario a try! 🕳🤸🏽‍♀️ I thought abt this last night, I’m currently rewatching AOT after 6 yrs and yet to finish season 4, so sorry if I’m wrong abt timelines/the plot? My request is the reader was with child with Reiner, but b4 reader told him, he betrayed and exposed his mission. Levi stepped in to help reader. And btw, I just finished watching ep 3 of season 4, so maybe Eren telling reiner abt his child and he regrets leaving the reader? And reiner jealous at the fact Levi is most likely considered his child’s father at that point. I can’t come up with an ending, so I’ll leave it up to you if you do take in my request. If this isn’t your type of writing I totally understand!

Note: This story is canon divergent. It is set in season 4, but in a universe where Reiner is not revealed as a traitor/the armored titan until a few months before season 4 takes place, as the reader was having relations with him until then and did not know his secret. I’m sorry if that change bothers you, I just wanted to write this as sort of its own story. This story contains season 4 spoilers! It also has nothing to do with the canon ending of AOT.

---

Dear Reiner,

I hope this letter somehow gets to you, I don’t quite know where to start.

In a perfect world, I would be so happy to tell you this. You’d be ecstatic too, I think. And before you try to second guess me: I’m sure by now, don’t worry.

I’m pregnant.

I guess we weren’t careful enough before you left. I feel like an idiot. And lost. But I’m not hopeless. I know myself, I can make it work somehow. With or without you.

I’m still in shock about you. How could someone so close hide so much? You’re a talented spy I suppose, a great asset to Marley. You made me trust you with my entire life. You made me love every false thing about you. And this is the rude awakening I get in return.

I’ll raise our child to value honesty and kindness, all in spite of you.

Sincerely,

Reader

---

The paper was damp with tears after you lifted your pen for a final time. You wished you could just keep the whole thing a secret: go make a quiet life for yourself somewhere else. It wouldn’t be right. Not after all of the dishonesty that man had spewed to you over the past few years. You had to tell him.

The door to the office room you’d settled in to write the letter creaks open. It’s Levi. He looks at your puffy eyes somberly, sympathetic. He was the first person you had told about the entire situation. Not because you were close, just because you needed help.

You fold your letter and stick it into a sturdy envelope. Levi takes it in his hand.

“That piece of shit doesn’t deserve a thing from you. Not a letter. Certainly not tears,” Levi says, using a clean handkerchief to wipe a stray drop from your cheek, “but I am proud of you.”

You take the handkerchief from him, feeling more tears stream down your face.

“Proud? I’m a fucking idiot,” you say through your sobs.

“Don’t even try to pull that self pity shit with me. Things happen sometimes. And you’re strong enough to commit to getting through it,” he responds.

You stand up, pushing your chair out. You look at him as you dry your face off again.

“I’m alone. How the hell am I supposed to do this shit alone?”

“You are not alone,” Levi replies. You’re shocked when he pulls you into a hug. “I’m going to help.”

You had never seen this side of him before. You look at him as you pull away slowly, tears still welled in your eyes.

“Are you sure? That's a big burden, Levi. None of this has to involve you.”

“Not the biggest burden I’ve ever taken on,” he shrugs. “There’s a lot of death around here, Y/N. Everyone is going to be happy about the little bit of life you’re giving us.”

You chuckle. He’s cynical, but he’s right.

He licks the envelope as he walks toward the door.

“Want me to run you a hot bath or something? Is that the type of shit pregnant people need?” he asks.

You laugh, a little harder than normal. It felt so relieving to laugh.

“Sure, Captain,” you respond softly.

---

Dear Reader,

I received your letter before the battle in Marley. I actually got to hand it to Reiner myself. He knows everything now. He broke down in front of me after reading it, going on about how much he regrets everything. How he wishes he could change things and be there for you. He begged me to kill him right there.

The world will eventually not have suffering like what you are going through now.

Eren Jaeger

---

Your jaw had dropped reading it. He begged me to kill him.

You hand the letter Levi had just delivered back to him. He reads it with a furrowed brow.

“Do you think…” you begin, your voice shaky, “do you think I could send another letter?”

Levi purses his lips, “Possibly. I can ask Jaeger. But right now, you need to bring your blood pressure back down.”

You were over seven months along now. You had found out about your pregnancy late, after being in denial for four whole months. Hange insisted on checking you out after you’d thrown up every morning for a week.

Levi had since gone on a parenting book reading spree; he made you read several of them too. He knew just about everything you needed to do to make a healthy baby: what to eat, what not to eat, how to exercise, when to go to the doctor, etc. It was really sweet how much he cared. You knew it gave him hope, something to fight for, something to come home to.

You were terrified when he left for Marley. You kissed him for the first time when he returned. Just about everyone you knew had to fight. You wished you could be out there fighting with them like you were supposed to. Maybe you could have made a difference.

Levi takes your hand, squeezing it to bring you out of your thoughts.

“What can I do?” he asks.

“Get me a glass of wine,” you grumble.

“Absolutely not.”

---

Dear Reiner,

Reader does not know I’m sending this. So keep it that way, or I’ll kill your sorry ass. Or maybe not, you’d probably enjoy that. In that case I’ll get creative.

How does it feel? Being a fucking deadbeat? Is it everything you’d thought it’d be and more? Fucking her and leaving her with nothing, like she belongs in a whorehouse. Reminds me of what happened to my mother. Pieces of shit like you came in and sent her to her death, leaving her kid behind to starve.

I wasn’t about to let her suffer like my mother did. But you were. I’m glad your choices haunt you, Reiner. You fucking deserve it.

I’ll be there for the both of them from now on, doing everything you were never capable of. She’s due any day now, I’m sure she’ll try to write to you.

Levi

---

You feel your first contraction while napping on the couch with Levi. You were settled in between his legs, your back leaning up against his chest. He had his hands on your stomach; he loved to feel the baby kick and tell them some of the happier stories in his memories.

The two of you had grown so close over the past few months. You slept together every night now. You didn’t want to leave each other’s sides if you didn’t have to. Levi would cuddle and massage you any time your pregnant body was ailing you.

You had fantasized with him about life after the war. He wanted to be a husband, a father, to live peacefully in the countryside. And he wanted more than anything for you to join him.

The first contraction wasn’t painful enough for you to make much more than a grunting noise, but Levi woke up the second he felt your stomach contort a bit. He was on very high alert these days.

“Holy… shit…is that what I think it is?” Levi whispers, “Don’t answer. I’m getting Hange.”

He crawls out from behind you and sprints out of the room.

The pain worsens and becomes much more frequent while he’s out looking for Hange. You stand up eventually after getting the urge to walk around - and your water breaks. You start panicking, unsure of how dilated you were and how much time you had left before pushing. You really wished you’d done more than just skimmed through those birthing books right about now.

Levi and Hange eventually come sprinting back into the room with a wheelchair and cold rags to find you whimpering in pain on the couch, trying your best to control your breathing.

You’re rushed down the halls to the Scout’s infirmary, where Levi had made sure the perfect room was set up for you - and it had been that way for two months.

The next hour goes by in a blur. Hange knew the biology of how to deliver the baby, and Levi knew how to coach you. He helped you hold your legs back when you pushed, and helped you count out your breathing. Hange attended to everything that might have made Levi faint, like checking your dilation and making sure the baby was coming out at the right angle. You got lucky having these two by your side.

Through all of your efforts, you finally hear a cry. You look up to see Levi holding your tiny new baby as Hange wiped them clean. He was smiling, way bigger than you’d ever seen him smile before, with tears in his eyes.

“Here,” he says softly, handing her to you.

You cradle her on your bare skin. “She’s so perfect, Levi! Look how sweet she is!” you coo.

“What are you going to call her?” he asks, stroking your hair as you gleam down at your baby.

“I was thinking,” you smile, “Kuchel.”

Levi lets out small gasp. Tears start streaming down his face, his efforts to stifle them failing.

“Really? I think that’s,” he wipes his eyes, “a wonderful name.”

—-

Dear Reiner,

She’s finally here! Oh my god, she’s precious. Levi and Hange helped to deliver her. Labor went smoothly. Levi started to cry when he saw her for the first time. She really is just that perfect. We are calling her Kuchel, after Levi’s mother. He cried when I told him that, too (don’t tell him I’m sharing those crying details.) I've decided to give her Levi’s last name as well.

Levi set up the perfect nursery for us.

If you really did feel guilty for leaving - don’t be. I’m happy.

She has your eyes.

Sincerely,

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Kuchel said her first word today. Of course it wasn’t mama, she’s such a daddy’s girl. She started crawling awhile ago, we are now working on standing up on our own. She has all of this blonde curly hair, too. She’s growing up so fast.

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

Levi proposed a few days ago. It was so perfect. We found a nice house with room for a farm that will be perfect for a family.

I can only wonder how you’re doing, now that the war is over.

Are you even alive?

Reader

—-

Dear Reiner,

I’m expecting again. Levi is beyond excited. I am too, of course. Kuchel started school this year. She is such a smart kid.

I still wonder about you. After all these years.

Reader

—-

Message after message, word after word. No response. You had decided he must be dead. The devastation after the war would argue that he was.

That is, until you found yourself rummaging through one of Levi’s desk drawers, looking for baby Isabel’s lost pacifier.

You felt the bottom of the drawer shift. A false bottom?

You pry at it until it comes open.

Letters.

Dozens of opened letters. With Marleyan postage stamps.

You pull out the first bundle you see. They’re all from you. Unopened. Unsent. You set them aside, your jaw quivering.

You pull out the second bundle and gasp.

—-

Dear Reader,

Eren showed me your letter. I am terribly sorry. Let me fix this, somehow. You can come to live with me in Marley. I will take care of you. Please.

I’m not just a traitor, a liar, a farce. Everything between us was real. I can explain everything. Just trust me.

Love,

Reiner

—

Dear Reader,

Do you get my letters?

I’ve only heard rumors about our new baby girl. I wish I could see her. Just once. For a second. Do you have a camera? I know they’re hard to come by in Paradis. I can send one.

I’d do anything to change this. You know I would.

Love,

Reiner

—-

To Levi,

You son of a bitch. I know exactly what you’re doing. You think this is protecting her, but it’s not. Just let her talk to me. She would listen, she would understand. You said yourself that she writes. You manipulative, sick bastard. That is MY child. She will never be yours. No matter what you brainwash her to believe, your dirty Ackerman blood does not run through her veins. She deserves to know. You are the farce, Levi.

Reiner

—-

There were dozens more. All opened. All from Reiner.

You sink down to the floor, tears spilling from your eyes.

You are the farce, Levi.

But, why? He was just protecting you, right?

The office door opens. You jump, shoving the letters back into the drawer.

“Mommy, why are you crying?” Kuchel asks.

You take a deep breath, staring down at the letters, thinking about everything that could have been.

“Are you happy here, Kuchel?”

“Yes!” she chirps, “Every day!”

“Then it’s nothing, baby. Mommy just got hurt. She’s better now.”

Your daughter giggles and skips out of the room, leaving you to hide away the rest of the letters.

༺♥༻

I REALLY HOPE I understood your request, Anon! I actually had a lot of fun writing this. It isn't something I would normally think to write, but I'm so glad you shared this idea! Sorry for the sad ending, I love playing w people's emotions ;)

༺♥༻

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #reiner x reader #reiner braun #reiner x you #levi x you #attack on titan #aot x reader #aot imagines #levi imagine #reiner imagine #snk reiner #snk levi #tw: pregnancy #tw: threats #tw: manipulation #tw: mentions of death

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foxleycrow · 3 years

Photo

Thranduil & Túrin playing together in Doriath, for @tolkiengenweek —when I realized they could have been kids in Doriath at the same time, I had to draw them together.

This one also comes with a short accompanying fic about their meeting:

To Wear an Elven Crown

Thranduil had longed to meet the Adan since he had heard the first tales of his arrival in Doriath. His wish had displaced most other longings in his heart. If he could speak to an Adan, he could practice his Mannish and ask him about so many things, like the life of his people and the world outside the Fence. Beleg Cúthalion had found the Adan lost in the woods, and then King Thingol had adopted him! Thranduil had never heard of anyone adopting an Adan, let alone the king himself. If he were now Thingol's son, did that mean he was an Elf, as well as a Man?

Thranduil had asked his father several times whether he could visit the Adan, but each time he was told the newcomer was too unwell. He had been sick and weak when he was discovered, and he was not yet strong enough to entertain company. This news sank him into a deep state of worry. The Edain could contract illnesses, and were mortal. What if this one became very sick, or even died! Of course, the healers of Doriath were the greatest in Middle-earth, but the Adan had come from dangerous lands far from the protection of Doriath, where anything might have befallen him. Thranduil had heard stories of strange fevers and chills that Edain could suffer from; what if the Elven healers did not know how to treat them?

"If he were to speak with someone his own age, Ada, he might feel better." The Adan was young, like himself. Not precisely the same age, since Edain aged so differently, but near enough in essence. He wondered what kind of games the Edain played. Maybe they had invented some no Elves had dreamed of…

"Do you believe so?" asked Oropher, raising an eyebrow. "An interesting perspective. I did not know you had become such an expert on the matter."

"I would feel better, if it were me." In defiance of his father's eyebrow, he added, "I asked Beleg to tell me everything he knows about the Edain."

"Oh, so you are an expert. My mistake." Oropher's hand settled on his head. Thranduil felt the warmth of his father's skin on his brow and blinked. "He has been through much, little Tuil," said Oropher. "We will not tax him any more than we need to."

After offering a gentle pat, Oropher withdrew his hand. Thranduil lay back, resting his head among the grasses. Thranduil did not expect his father to understand, for Oropher was very old. There were no children in King Thingol's house, and if they would not allow Thranduil to visit and talk to the Adan, then they would not have let any other children in to speak to him; that was obvious.

"I am an expert," Thranduil murmured, closing his eyes. Beleg had told him that the Edain could grow lonely and sad, like Elves, and that they too loved to dance and sing and tell tales. The Adan was named Túrin, and his father had been an Elf-friend. That meant he was an Elf-friend, too. If he was a friend, then he should be treated as one and given a warm welcome by everyone in Menegroth. Surely that would make him feel better than being kept away from others.

"Are you falling asleep?" Oropher asked. "I'll take you back home."

He shook his head stubbornly, the blades of grass making themselves felt on his cheeks and chin. Narrow, but not quite sharp. They did not hurt, but he sensed each one keenly. "No, I want to nap out here in the sun." They were well behind the Fence and close to Menegroth, so these woods were safe and guarded. He could play or explore or rest among the trees whenever he liked, because Queen Melian kept them all from harm.

He heard Oropher's soft laughter and felt his father's hand settle on his head again briefly. Then he was only aware of the warm sun heating his skin and the faintly prickly touch of the grass carpeting the clearing. Soon, he was not aware of the clearing either, lost in a dream, wandering far from the waking world. He dreamed he was journeying through a dark, withered wood, bristling with dead branches. The sky was veiled with dense, gray clouds. There was an unnatural air to them, as if storm clouds had been thickened with smoke.

There was a cold wind at his back, and he was all alone. The dead trees were so tall, they made him feel smaller. He heard something moving behind him, breaking branches and rustling through shriveled leaves. An animal? Or something worse? He did not know, and he did not want to turn to look, so he ran. He ran until he felt he had been always running, yet no matter how quick his steps, the noises behind him persisted, never any closer, but never farther away.

Thranduil woke with a gasp. He sat up and scanned the clearing. It was as green and tranquil as it had been when he fell asleep. He heard the low buzz of insect song and the faint voices of the trees. Father was gone. He saw no sign of anyone nearby, although that was not unusual. The sun's light was starting to fade from the sky. It was that between-time when patches of sunlight were still scattered across the forest floor, while the first stars appeared in the purpling twilight above. Thranduil rose to his feet. He was a little hungry, but he was well-rested, and he wasn't ready to return home. He would rather play, until Father came to fetch him. He left the clearing, slipping into the undergrowth as soundlessly as possible.

One of his favorite games was Marchwarden. It was more fun to play with someone else, but it was a game he could also play alone, simply by moving as quickly and quietly as possible, so that no enemies could see or hear him—exactly like a Marchwarden. He was tracking. Not hunting, but searching for any sign of danger, to keep Doriath safe. He studied whatever tracks he came across, or other signs of passage, such as broken twigs or bent grasses, trying to judge who or what had come the same way, and how long ago. He could wander like this for hours, happily, alone.

He was not entirely happy. He was more uneasy as he searched for signs in the grass, because of his dream. Within the dead wood, he had felt like he would never be allowed to rest, racing with an enemy eternally at his back. Dreams always meant something, but not always what you thought they meant. It took a wise Elf to read dreams. He could have asked his father about it, and maybe he would later. Now, he stalked through the dense growth, crouching low so his pale hair couldn't be seen.

When he heard low and distant voices, Thranduil was still lost in his game, so he crouched lower, listening intently as he crept closer. He slowed his breathing, his heartbeat, hiding as he'd been taught.

"—where he could have gone—?"

"We will find him, and soon. There's only so far...."

"I hadn't thought he was strong enough. I would never have guessed he'd be so quick."

"You shouldn't underestimate—"

The speakers moved away, out of the range of his hearing. Those were two of Thingol's guards. Could they have been talking about the Adan? It was possible, and not only because Thranduil thought of the Adan so often. Who else would they have thought wasn't strong enough? If the Adan was lost, he might grow sicker. Imagine how upset King Thingol would be. If Thranduil was a Marchwarden, then he had a duty to do whatever he could to protect everyone in Doriath: including any Edain. He moved on again, more quickly and with greater purpose.

He studied the forest, down to the least leaf, and he listened to the birds singing, the faint breeze moving through the branches. He listened for telltale noises, or telltale silences. He wondered whether the Adan had had a nightmare, like he had. Maybe that was why he had run off. It must have been hard for him to leave his home behind, especially because of the war: that distant, dark shadow hanging over everything, even the forests of Doriath.

Where would an Adan go? Possibly into the undergrowth, where he was. A place where someone small would hide. Thranduil knew of many secret spaces ideal for concealing himself, but few of them were nearby, close to where the guards were hunting. A slight Adan would leave faint footprints. Like Thranduil, he would have been trained in how to hide, if he were in danger. Thranduil was sure that the great trackers of Doriath could find anyone, but maybe Túrin would be difficult to find, more difficult than they expected.

Thranduil headed toward the Dome—it was a vast, curving structure of twisted woody shrubs, crowned with flowering vines. It was bright enough to draw the eye of a stranger to these woods, and dense enough to provide ample cover and shelter. Thranduil often crawled in there to play, because it was like a fortress. He could pretend he ruled there, lord of the branches and leaves and blossoms.

Thranduil found a faint indentation that might have been left by someone running this way. Shortly after that, he spied a tiny tuft of thread, caught on a hooked thorn. It was bright blue in color, so it stood out more than it might have otherwise. Could he have been correct in thinking the Adan might have been come this way? He had been guessing, but maybe he really was a Marchwarden. He would have to tell Beleg, if he succeeded in his hunt.

Emboldened by the thought that he might be better at tracking than Thingol's own guard, Thranduil sank to his knees and crawled into one of the narrow passageways that led into the Dome. With twisting branches on either side of him, and a ceiling of ivy above, no one outside would be able to see him, once he had travelled the length of a few paces. There were no wider ways in, the growth here was so dense. Anyone who was much larger than Thranduil would have had to cut their way through. Among the branches, Thranduil caught sight of another slight scrap of blue thread. The branches here loved to tug on clothing.

Encouraged, Thranduil moved faster, until he arrived at a fall of dense vines, pushed through them, and found himself confronted by a pair of dark, shining eyes, staring at him. The Adan gave a start, but did not run. It was hard to travel quickly within the Dome, especially if one didn't know it as well as Thranduil did. Thranduil had half-suspected he was imagining his grand success in tracking, so he sat, blinked and stared back at his quarry, startled and bewildered and pleased.

The Adan was seated with his knees drawn up toward his chest. He was very thin, the thinnest child Thranduil had ever seen. His narrow face made his eyes look bigger. Here, he was walled off from the world—or most of it. He looked a great deal like an Elf, although Thranduil could tell he was different as well. It was hard to say exactly why; he simply felt different, like the night air felt different from the air of day, or the atmosphere before a storm as opposed to in the dry season: different in so many various slight ways, some of which were easier to describe than others.

Although Thranduil had longed for their meeting with joy, he felt unexpectedly solemn, now that it was taking place. "Hello," he ventured, in Sindarin. "I'm Thranduil, Son of Oropher."

The Adan blinked, and for a moment, Thranduil wasn't sure if he would—or could—reply, but at last he answered softly, "I'm Túrin, Son of Húrin."

"Why are you out here?" Thranduil asked. He didn't wish to sound accusatory, so he added, "Did you want to play?"

Túrin looked away, into the shadows between the leaves. "I wanted to be by myself."

Thranduil nodded, as this was perfectly understandable. "I like to be by myself, too."

Túrin's gaze shifted back to Thranduil. He seemed relieved to hear this, exhaling.

"Can I stay, though?" Thranduil asked. "Now that I'm here."

"You can stay," Túrin said.

Thranduil knew that Thingol and all his guards and attendants and everyone must be nervous, but he didn't think a little while longer would do any harm, especially not when Túrin must have run here for a reason. Being surrounded by everyone at court could be overwhelming. Thranduil had never been far away from home and everyone he knew before, but it must be hard. It would be better not to rush him. He would let Túrin rest for a little while, and then he would take him to Thingol—just as Beleg had, before.

"I can show you something," he offered.

After another hesitation, Túrin nodded.

"Follow me," said Thranduil. He crawled ahead, between the branches, into the gloom. The last of the day's slight, slipping in through the leaves and vines above, made soft, pale shifting shapes on their hands and on the ground beneath. After a long way, the structure of the dome opened up onto a green glade, surrounded by dense undergrowth on all sides. No one would walk here casually, and if he and Túrin didn't stand up, no one would be able to see them from outside the enclosure. The glade was also hidden, but there was more room to stretch out, and even lie down. It was a fine place for a nap, with soft earth and open sky above. Clusters of flowers grew in profusion, along with tufts of dense grass. Thranduil and Túrin admired their new hiding place in silence, while birds sang in the trees overhead. It was not yet true night, only early twilight. The birds would keep singing a little longer.

"I come here sometimes when I want to be alone," Thranduil said. In the past days and weeks, he had formulated an ever-growing list of questions he would like to ask the Adan, but he did not ask a single one of them now.

Túrin nodded again, lowering his gaze. He reached down and ran his fingers through the grass. There were shadows beneath his eyes, and he did not smile.

"Everyone's looking for you," said Thranduil. "They must be worried."

"I didn't mean to make anyone worry. They shouldn't worry. I don't know why I—" He broke off, closing his eyes.

"It's all right. No one will be angry with you," Thranduil reassured him quickly, moved by Túrin's pained expression. "I'm not angry. I've been waiting to meet you. I've never met an Adan before."

Túrin's eyes reopened, slowly. "Never?"

Thranduil inclined his head in confirmation. "Never."

"I hadn't really met Elves before," said Túrin.

"But now you have. You've met Beleg, and King Thingol, and me. Everyone's happy you're here, that's why they're worried. But we don't have to go back right away. We can wait until you feel better." He cast about the glade, looking for something else he could show the Adan, to cheer him. Along with the two of them, the glade was bursting with life, all the usual green and growing things, rising from the earth and insisting on themselves… "Here—I'll make you something."

"Make me what—?"

"Look." Thranduil's gaze went to a stand of nearby pale purple flowers. These particular blossoms were edible and often harvested. It would do no harm to take a few, especially at this time of year. Quickly, he plucked a few of them, leaving a length of green stem on each. Once he had gathered enough, he wove them together. Flowers and grasses were easy to weave, especially into a circle. When they were joined, he tapped them with his fingers. He could feel the energy moving through the blooms and stems. He closed his eyes briefly, concentrating on that living force, pressing the separate strands of it into one: forging it into a single, singing ring and willing the flowers—live, preserve. They were no longer separate blooms; they had become a single entity. Their petals, which had been in the first stage of wilting, straightened with pride, made fresh and new. It was such a simple thing to do, yet Túrin was wide-eyed and rapt, staring at his hands as if he had performed a wonder. "A crown for you, Prince Túrin." Thranduil reached out and settled the circlet of blooms on Túrin's head.

Finally, Túrin smiled at him. Thranduil smiled back.

They did not stay long, alone in that green glade together, hidden by a conspiracy of leaves and vines and branches. They were never meant to stay long. The world outside was waiting for them to emerge. While the sun receded and the stars began to show themselves—one by one at first, then all at once, like a rain of jewels scattering across the sky—they played and laughed for a few moments.

As Thranduil predicted, when they returned to Menegroth, Túrin did not receive a single scolding. Thingol wrapped him in a fierce embrace. Beleg was as impressed by Thranduil's skills as Thranduil had hoped. He praised Thranduil for his skill in tracking, and said he could visit Túrin whenever he wanted. Eventually, he was able to ask Túrin every question on his extensive list.

Many long years later, tragedy faded into myth for so many, but not for those who were there. Thranduil rarely listened to the sad songs that touched on the subject of Túrin Turambar, but when a certain mood was on him, he would ask the harpers to play one of the few he approved of. Thranduil had grown very old. Seated on his throne, wearing his own heavy crown, he would lean back and remember the smile of a young boy with his dark hair full of flowers.

#thranduil #turin turambar #thranduil art #thranduil fic #tolkiengenweek #silmarillion #silmarillion art #silmarillion fic #tolkien #tolkien art #tolkien fic #oropher #silm fic #silm art #silm

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laughingphoenixleader · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word count: no idea

A/N: This is my first fanfiction that I’m posting out in the world! This takes place an hour or two after the end of Star Wars Rebels Season 2 Episode 7: Wings of the Master. I found a fanart when surfing the internet for Kanera content (as one does) a few months ago and I haven’t stopped thinking about it since! I don’t know whose work the art is but I’ll paste it on here! If anyone knows who it’s by, please let me know :) the art isn’t mine, but all of the writing is! Obviously, Kanan isn’t blind yet in this fic like he is in the fanart. I hope anyone who reads this likes it!! I’m hoping to post more fanfiction in the future—I have three others in the works already! I’m open to any and all feedback!

Hera rubs her temple as she steps out of the promotion briefing. Her head buzzes with new intel, and plans zip through her mind like starships. She is honored and ecstatic about her promotion to Phoenix Leader. At the same time, though, she can already feel the new responsibility settling onto her shoulders, all of the lives that will soon be placed under her supervision weighing on her. Hera can and will take on all of the privileges and authority her new position grants her, and she fully intends to own it, too. Still, her heart is heavy.

Truthfully, she’s still struggling with the losses they suffered on the first attempt to deliver supplies to Ibaar. Hera had been so determined to complete that mission, to find the right ship to make it possible, that the grief and sensation of failure hadn’t caught up with her. She had made sure of that. There wasn’t time to be crippled by guilt and loss when there was a mission to complete. Now that the mission was over, however, she can feel the effects of the losses setting in.

Thoughts swirl through her mind as she continues to head down the hallway towards the bay where the Ghost is docked.

If I had just let us turn back—if I hadn’t told everyone to keep going—maybe Phoenix Leader and the people on the transport would have survived.

She’d made the wrong call. Hera can still hear the panic-filled voice crying out, “Captain Syndulla!” as the transport—and the people inside—were blasted into a thousand pieces. She’d let her determination blind her, and lives had been lost because of it.

Guilt pours into her, paralyzing her. She stops walking in the middle of the empty hallway and steps into a nearby alcove to process it all. If I make a mistake like that again, the consequences will be worse now that I have more responsibility. What if I let everyone down?

Her churning vortex of thoughts and feelings is interrupted by a pair of strong, green-clad arms embracing her from behind, and a deep, warm voice comes from above her. “How’s it going, Captain?”

Pleasure surges through her lekku. His timing is perfect.

The pleasant surprise washes all of the guilt, fear, and sadness away, at least for now. Hera lets out a little “hey” of protest as Kanan Jarrus pulls her nearly off her feet, but an irrepressible smile spreads over her face. She closes her eyes and turns her face towards his, relishing the warmth emanating from him and the way his presence soothes her. Hera places her hands on the arms that envelop her, returning the embrace through a gentle squeeze.

“Better now, love,” she tells him. He releases her slightly so that her feet are fully on the ground and places his chin on her shoulder, still holding her close.

“And you usually hate PDAs.”

“If I’m not mistaken, there’s no one in this hallway.”

“What would you have done if there were?”

Hera is silent for a moment, eyes still closed. “Nothing differently.”

She can feel him grin. “Great,” he replies. “Because there’s someone walking by now.”

Hera’s eyes fly open and search the hallway—which is still empty. She elbows him. “Kanan!”

A deep laugh vibrates out of his chest. She rolls her eyes, but allows herself to settle back into his embrace.

“Really, though,” Kanan says gently, all traces of mirth disappearing. The care in his voice sends another ripple of affection through her lekku. “How are you? I could tell you needed this.”

“And you were right,” Hera admits as he guides them down onto the alcove’s bench, arms still entwined around her. Normally, she’d break away now to explain what she was feeling, the thought of fellow rebels walking by and being made uncomfortable by their display of affection present in her mind. This time, however, she isn’t ready to move away from him. Besides, this isn’t a heavily trafficked hallway anyway. She does move to the side rather than sitting on his lap, though, her shoulder overlapping his. “It’s those people we lost the first time we went to Ibaar to deliver the supplies,” she begins, her voice heavy with returning guilt. “They died because of me.”

Kanan lifts his head from her shoulder, his aquamarine eyes staring seriously into hers. “Hera, no.”

“They told me they were taking heavy fire,” she continues, her voice growing more and more agitated. “They lost their forward deflectors, and I still told them to keep going. I should’ve told them to turn back.” A sound of frustration escapes her throat. “Why am I so stubborn? Why are they putting more people under my leadership after my decision led to several deaths?”

“Hera,” Kanan’s voice cuts through her hysteria, rich and deep and sure. “Everyone here knows that any mission could be their last.”

“I know that,” she responds, voice still thrumming with anguish. “But that doesn’t mean lives should be thrown away just because of one person’s inability to retreat!” She breaks her gaze from his, shaking her head and staring down at the floor. “I don’t deserve that promotion.”

Kanan gently lifts her head so that her eyes meet his again. “No one trusting someone with authority expects them to be perfect,” Kanan reminds her. “Everyone here has made a wrong call, has failed to complete a mission—which you didn’t, by the way—but that doesn’t mean they’re a failure. You weren’t treating anyone like they were expendable—your optimism led you not to give up. You were determined to get those supplies to those in need and refused to give up hope.” Tones similar to those he uses when teaching Ezra a lesson color his voice, though with considerably less frustration. “The only way to rise above your mistakes is to accept the lessons they teach and apply them in the future. Letting your mistakes destroy your faith in yourself isn’t going to help anyone.”

Hera listens intently, his sincerity like a bacta patch on a wound.

“Sato could hear all of the comms between you and Phoenix Squadron, and he didn’t demote you or chastise you. Clearly, he doesn’t blame you for the lives that were lost.” Kanan squeezes her tighter reassuringly. “No one does.”

His voice becomes harder, more insistent. “And of course you deserve the promotion.” He sounds offended at the thought of anyone suggesting otherwise. “You didn’t volunteer to leave the mission—you were committed to seeing it through. But when I volunteered you for the mission to Shantipole, you dove in—literally—and headed straight into a world that no ship is supposed to be able to escape from—but you did. You’d only flown that B-wing once before joining the battle, but you flew it like it was built for you. You’re the reason those supplies did get to those people. When I recommended your promotion, Sato didn’t waste a second before agreeing with me.”

Kanan’s words replace her guilt and grief with a swelling of gratitude and comfort. Hera won’t forget those who had died today. She’ll be more careful to see when a situation requires a retreat, but she won’t let her confidence in herself die. “Thank you, Kanan,” she tells him, her heart full. He places his forehead against hers, and they share a rare moment of contentment and peace, enjoying each other’s presence.

Hera reluctantly breaks the silence after a minute or so, lifting her forehead from his.“We should probably get back home,” she tells the Jedi. “I liked that B-wing, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting the kids wreck the Ghost.” Kanan’s flash of disappointment is so endearing. She lifts his chin reassuringly.

“It’ll be all right, fearless leader.”

Kanan unravels his arms from around her, replying indignantly, “Hey, no, you’re officially the leader now.” They’d had the argument many times, each insisting that the other is the leader of their crew. Hera always tells him that “captain of the ship” and “leader” are two different things.

Now she rolls her eyes, smiling, but doesn’t correct him this time.

“I guess it’s about time we get back, anyway,” Kanan continues before she changes her mind and decides to refute him. “How long has it been since you’ve eaten something?”

Hera’s brows knit as she attempts to remember. “Yeah, too long,” Kanan’s suspicions seem to have been confirmed. “Come on.” He takes her hand and pulls her up, out of the alcove, and into the hallway. They share a comfortable silence all the way back to the Ghost, which Hera now realizes Kanan must have left to come find her. Even more affection for him to rises in her at the realization.

When the cockpit opens, the two release each others’ hands and are greeted by a rush of cheers and pumping fists. Even Chopper waves his grasping arms and spins around in celebration.

“Go Hera!” Ezra yells.

“About time you got promoted,” Zeb grins.

“Congratulations, Hera,” Sabine tells her earnestly.

“Mom got promoted! Mom got promoted!” Chopper chants triumphantly.

Hera chuckles, heart overflowing with fondness for her crew. “All right, all right,” she tells them. “You’re going to make the rest of the ship think that something’s wrong.”

“Who cares?” Ezra says as he pulls everyone into a group hug. “Hera cares,” Kanan replies, but he puts one arm around her and another around Sabine. The hug is a little awkward, with Zeb being so much taller than Ezra and Sabine and Chopper standing in the middle of the circle, but in that moment, the crew feels truly united.

“Okay, I can’t stand Zeb’s smell anymore,” Ezra quips, stepping out of the circle. Chopper rolls over and smacks him with a grasping arm.

“Ow! You always do that!” The blue-haired boy zips into the cargo hold, trying to get away from Chopper, who continues whacking him as he pursues.

The rest of the family shares exasperated smiles.

Kanan nudges Hera forward, dropping his arms from hers and Sabine’s shoulders.

“Lead the way, Captain Hera,” he tells her, that crooked smile of his setting the inside of Hera aglow. “We’re all behind you.”

#kanan jarrus #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #sabine wren #swr #kanera #hera syndulla #kanan x hera #garazeb orrelios #chopper #c1 10p #wings of the master #Hera is the best pilot in the galaxy change my mind #space parents #space mom #space dad #space married #best couple ever #otp

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the-cult-of-russo · 3 years

Text

Biggest regret (part 2)

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Quite a few of you guys wanted a part two to this one. Mixed angst and fluff kind of? So... I didn’t wanna rush this one and it kind of got away from me. I want to do a part three to it which will be where the main fluff begins if you guys are interested.

Warnings: cursing, angst, sadness, fluff kinda

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Nervous didn't even begin to cover how Billy felt now he was back stateside. He was on his way home after a successful mission and his thoughts were consumed with you and the baby. He hadn't been able to think of much else. He didn't regret sending the letter but he was vulnerable now. He'd put himself out there and he hated how out of control he was with the situation.

There was every chance you wouldn't even get the letter. You could have easily moved since the last time he spoke to you and you'd never know he'd tried to reach out. And of course he had the resources available to track you down if needed but it felt wrong to do that. Although if he got desperate enough he knew he was selfish enough to do it.

He wasn't sure what would be worse; you never getting the letter or you getting the letter and ripping his heart out. Hypocritical, he knew, after what he'd done to you. But he wasn't sure how he'd handle it. There were too many variables for this whole thing and it set him on edge. Even if you got the letter it didn't mean you'd respond. And if you responded it didn't mean it would be anything he'd like to hear. You could be telling him to go fuck himself, which he'd wholeheartedly understand, but it would hurt nonetheless.

He didn't dare get his hopes up. He knew that the very best he'd probably get was the bare minimum information about his kid. Name and age, if that. And while it may not be a lot, it would mean the world to him but he wasn't holding his breath for even that.

He felt like a string pulled taut ready to snap as he made his way to his apartment. He made a beeline to the mail room and unlocked his mailbox and grabbed the stack of letters. He knew it was stupid as he held his breath and flicked through the envelopes. He tried so hard not to get his hopes up yet he hadn't been able to help it. There was a bunch of junk mail and more formal business-like things. But then a handwritten envelope had his heart stopping completely. He'd know your handwriting anywhere. He stared at it for a long moment and all he could hear was the blood rushing to his head. So much hung on what you'd say in this letter and it left him open to complete and utter heartbreak. He felt sick.

Deciding to open it upstairs so he'd be able to have a mental breakdown in peace, he all but ran to the elevator and made his way up to the top floor. It felt like it took a year to get there and he made quick work of getting inside his apartment. The other mail got tossed on the counter, forgotten and not important and he walked over to his sofa before sitting on it. He placed the letter on the coffee table, glaring at it as he wrung his hands. He was genuinely terrified of what was inside. He'd faced so much in his life, fought literal wars. Yet this was the most scared he'd ever been.

He jumped off the sofa, going in the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of whisky before he went and sat back down, his leg bobbing up and down without even noticing. He didn't need a glass and instead just took a large gulp before he set the bottle down. He needed to stop being such a little bitch and open the damn thing. With shaking hands, he grabbed the letter and opened it. He pulled out the paper, unfolding it as his heart thumped wildly in his chest. The first thing he noticed were the few splotches of now dried wetness on the page that had the ink bleed slightly. You'd cried when writing this and his heart seized up.

Billy,

I was surprised to hear from you, I won't lie. At one time I expected it. When I was pregnant I kept expecting you to call or turn up here or something, but as the months went on I realised it wouldn't happen. Better late than never though, right?

Ouch. You weren't wrong but it stung all the same. He imagined you, scared and pregnant and alone and hoping he'd turn up and be the man you needed and it hurt him more than he felt comfortable with.

It kind of hurts that you think I'd withhold information about our baby from you. I thought you knew me better than that. I thought a lot of things though and I was wrong so I'm not surprised. You were the one that walked away from us, I'd never be petty enough to keep you away just because of what happened with us.

He did know you well enough but he hadn't been able to stop his mind going there. Because he knew deep down he didn't deserve you bothering with a reply for how he abandoned you. He knew he was asking for too much. He shouldn't have been surprised you'd reply since you always went above and beyond for him. He never deserved it. Not then and certainly not now.

I won't sit here and lie to you. It crushed me when you walked away. I was terrified to tell you when I found out I was pregnant. I wasn't sure how you'd react. A part of me thought it would end the way it did but… I really hoped it wouldn't. I held out too much hope and I see that now.

You thought he was a better man than he was. Gave him too much credit. It stung like a bitch that he'd hurt you this much. He never wanted to hurt you.

The pregnancy was tough. I was in and out of hospital and I was really sick. Then I had issues at the end with the placenta. I had to go through all of it alone and I stupidly wished you'd just magically turn up every time I ended up back at hospital.

His lower lip wobbled and he sneered at himself. He should have been there. He should have held your hand and told you it would be okay. You shouldn't have had to go through any of this alone.

We have a little girl. I called her Delilah. I know you might not like the name but it was left down to me and I liked it. I think it suits her.

A girl. His chest ached and his hands trembled, eyes filling with tears and a sad smile spread on his face. He had a little girl. And he loved the name. You could have called her something ridiculous and it wouldn't have mattered to him.

She came early. With all the issues with the pregnancy she ended up being a month premature. She was tiny. I was terrified she wouldn't be okay. I couldn't even hold her right away because she was in an incubator. I was so scared, Billy.

A choked noise left his lips and a few tears leaked down his cheeks. What had he done? He left you at your most vulnerable and his baby had been sick. And what had he been doing? Living his life like nothing had happened. He made himself sick. ‘I was so scared, Billy. I was so scared, Billy. I was so scared, Billy.’ He could practically hear your voice saying those words. Hear how it would waver like it did when you got upset. Hear the hurt and fear in your voice. He should have been there.

She's four months old now and she's doing amazing. She's such a happy baby. It's like all she does is smile. She has your eyes and my hair. She mostly looks like you though.

He sniffled, wiping his eyes with one hand as he gave a watery smile. He tried to imagine what she looked like. A mix of you both. She'd be perfect. It eased him a little to know she was okay now, that she wasn't sick anymore. He hadn't expected you to give him so much information but it made his heart swell that you were. As always, it was way more than what he deserved.

When I got your letter, I think I didn't stop crying for hours. A mix of hurt and relief, I guess. I'd be a liar if I said there wasn't any bitterness. I went through everything alone and now you just turn up because you're ready. I didn't get that luxury, Billy. I didn't have a choice. It was either have my baby or not, there was no walking away until I felt ready for me.

His chest felt even tighter and your disappointment only fueled his self hatred about the whole thing. You weren't exactly wrong and he'd been a coward.

I won't hold it against you though. It might take time to fully forgive you but I won't make you suffer. You're still her dad and I'd never deny either you or her that right. The fact that you even want to be part of her life at all means alot to me. I never wanted to have that talk with her when she was older about why you walked away.

It was bittersweet. Knowing you were extending an olive branch and letting him in even after all this time. But the knowledge that you'd been worried about what to tell your daughter when she was older hurt him. It was exactly what he didn't want. He never wanted her to feel unloved by him.

I sent you a few pictures and they're yours to keep.

He set the letter down instantly and scooped up the envelope, he hadn't noticed anything else in there in his haste to read the letter. But he pulled out a few Polaroids and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

The first was of you. You were in the mirror standing sideways with the Polaroid camera in one hand. You only had on leggings and a bra and your bump was pretty big, cradled by your other hand. You looked so beautiful and he couldn't believe he'd missed out on this. Couldn't believe he'd walked away from you. The writing at the bottom had '7 months inside' written on it and his thumb stroked your bump as he wished he had been able to do in the flesh. With a heaving sigh and heavy heart, he set the picture down to look at the next.

The second was of a tiny baby in an incubator. She had on a knitted pink hat and she looked so tiny and small. A sob left his lips then as he gazed at her. She was beautiful but so fragile and he hadn't been there. His job was to protect her and he hadn't been there. He could only imagine the pain you'd been in going through that alone. In your writing at the bottom in black ink was the date and her name. His breathing hitched as he read 'Delilah Russo'. You gave her his last name. He hadn't expected that at all and he found a rush of joy and pride flooding his system as he openly cried at the picture. She was so fucking tiny and he remembered you saying you hadn't been able to hold her right away. He knew it must have killed you.

His hand set it down shakily as he looked at the next. His little girl was still small but you were holding her now. You looked tired and like you'd lost a lot of weight. It hurt him deeply. Yet despite that you had a look of pure love and happiness on your face as you stared down at the little bundle in your arms and it made him cry all over again. He idly wondered if his own mother had ever looked at him that way when he was born but he highly doubted it. It stirred something deep inside of him to see how much you adored her.

The last picture seemed more recent and was of Delilah all on her own. She was propped up by pillows and had a cheeky smile on her face, her grubby little hands holding a stuffed blackbird. Oh... He thought the tears were done but apparently not and he hated himself so fucking much. All these little things in his honor were killing him because it was clear that no matter what he'd done to you, you still tried to have him in your daughters life somehow and that shit hurt. The writing at the bottom said '3 months outside' and he smiled through his tears.

She was so fucking beautiful and you hadn't lied that she had your hair and his eyes. Dark pools of almost black were staring back at him through the picture and it was a foreign sensation to see a mini version of him. The one difference being she was happy and well loved and he wanted nothing more for her than that.

He stared at the picture for what felt like forever as he took in every little detail in her chubby little face, committing it all to memory. All of these pictures were special to him and way more than anything he thought he'd get in response to his piece of shit letter but he was grateful. He slipped the last one into his wallet before picking the letter back up to finish it.

I'm glad you reached out now and not later. She's still only a baby, too young to really remember any of this. It would have been harder to have you in her life later and have her be too confused at who you are. It's gonna take time and patience, she's not used to you, but if you'd like then I'd like you to meet her.

He felt like he stopped breathing altogether for a moment. You want him to meet her. You'd let him… he broke down, sobs mixed with pure pain and guilt with the sheer relief that he'd actually get to meet his little girl. He never thought in his wildest dreams you'd gift him that and he felt so overwhelmed he didn't think he'd be able to stop crying. He was a far cry in that moment from the man he knew himself to be.

I won't put pressure on you to meet her if it's too much but I will say this. You're either in or out with this. You can't decide to come into her life and then leave again, Billy. I won't let it happen. You broke my heart and there's no way in hell I'm letting you break hers. Really think about this before you contact me because you need to be fully ready for it. I won't have you half ass this, okay? If you're really ready to be her dad then call me. If not, I'll understand and I'll leave you with the pictures. It's your call, but don't fuck it up.

Y/N

He laughed, the sound watery and pained but he couldn't help it. Something about you being so protective over your baby made his whole chest bloom with warmth. And while it hurt him that you had to warn him at all, he knew he deserved it. He'd walked away once before and you wouldn't let it happen again. It killed him to read that he broke your heart even though he already knew. But you were protecting your kid. His kid. And it only made him love you harder at you not taking any shit.

Your number was scrawled at the bottom of the letter and he wanted to call right away. He didn't though. He would respect your wishes and think about it, at least mull it over for tonight. He knew without a doubt he wasn't planning on walking away, no matter how hard it may be down the line. He had no intention of hurting his girl. But you asked him to think hard about it and he'd give you that. Just the notion that you'd allow him to meet her had his head spinning.

It wouldn't be perfect by any means. He'd hurt you beyond repair and he wasn't stupid enough to think that being in his daughters life meant getting you back the way he wanted. But it was better than he ever thought he'd get.

He sniffled again, grabbing his phone and pressing speed dial one without hesitation. He didn't give the person on the line a chance to speak once they answered.

"Frankie... I got a little girl," Billy beamed through his sobs. Frank made a choked noise on the other end.

"Shit, Bill. Congratulations," he replied, his own voice thick with emotion and wavering.

Billy would never forget how badly Frank reacted to the news you were pregnant and he'd just walked away. It stuck with him for a long time and he knew Frank was hurt by what he did. Billy was his family which meant his kid was family.

Billy didn't care as he openly sobbed down the phone to his best friend and he knew Frank wouldn't rib him for it, not this time. Once he mentioned he had pictures, Frank didn't hesitate to tell him he was on his way over.

Despite the pain he was feeling and the self loathing, he felt a sense of completeness that he'd never felt before. And he knew no matter what he'd do right by you and his baby girl. He'd be the man you both deserve. You were both his family and he wouldn't abandon you. Not again. He wouldn't perpetuate the cycle of his own harsh upbringing. It would be different this time. He'd be a good dad. A good man for his girls.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #the punisher #billy russo imagine

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