#captain answers letters

[thecaptainsdeck]

Hi Captain, just thought I'd check to see what your favourite Killer recipe is? Does he cook it often for you, or not as much as you'd hope? Is there a meal that reminds you of home that you make him ask him to do for you?

So many food related questions from your resident snail this morning. I hope you're having a wonderful day, Cap. 🖤🐌

Any Killer recipe is my favorite recipe, he's been my personal chef for 20 years. My favorite dish is steamed cabbage rolls and he'll make it as often as I want. A close second is his meathead burgers - legally, they're not over 5 pounds of meat, and I like it rare and bloody.

I don't talk about home so ask a new question.

Did you know that snails are also a recipe of his? Escargot - look it up. See you at dinner.

You called for me, Kid?

[firawren]

14 for the Austen asks!

14. Favorite love confession from the books

Do love confessions via letter count? Because if so, hands down, it's Captain Wentworth's letter. "You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan." Ugh oh my god it is just unparalleled.

If we're going with spoken love confessions, I'll say Mr. Knightley's. He's just so agitated and earnest and desperate—just look at all the em dashes that Jane Austen uses in it! Adorable! And he keeps calling her "dearest" and is so humble and "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more." So much goodness.

Thanks so much for the ask!

Here's the list of questions if others would like to ask me one!

[unfinishedjulyrain]

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀 ALL THE SHIPS EVERYONE YOU CAN THINK OF ONE FOR

send 👀 for a dirty thought and/or fantasy my muse has had about yours.・❥・@mournus

Hana: "What dirty thought or fantasy did I not have about him? Well, to be fair, a new one comes along almost every day and I don't mind repeating them in my head over and over again. When things are pretty serious and he discusses matters with his crew, leaning over the wooden table with the big map, I can't help imagining him bending me over exactly that spot, my chest squished on top of it. Oh and if Nachim whispered foreign words in my ear? Even better. But really, anything he does... this smile... I don't know if he would ever be interested in me pole dancing for him. That's my fantasy, watching him as he watches me. I practiced, I know I can do it. With clothes, without clothes. But with the jewelry he gifted me."

Tadashi: Tadashi blushes for a whole minute before he goes on. "I like to think that Haru has a very nice... bottom, any part of Haru, really! Just that my mind drifts to their butt and I can't help the thought how juicy it looks. And is. I'm not very... I might be a bit boring in that sense so I have to rely on Haru a lot to show me the ropes but I love seeing Haru in cute oufits, daring outfits... so my fantasy is to see Haru a little tied up while I caress each part of them, maybe with a toy, maybe with my hands, or something else. I love Haru, I think I'd do anything they ask of me."

Dahlia: "Haru's my little plaything, my one and only. More than often do I think how precious Haru looks, especially stripped off of clothes with just this cute pink collar. So as for a fantasy, I want Haru to taste my blood, to endulge in its sweetness and feel my arousal through it. Haru riding me is a fantasy that lives in my head rent-free and that enough gives me so much energy, I need to let it out somehow."

Manshik: Is he really going to say such things about a friend he has not seen in centuries? "Maybe it's because I haven't seen Jongsu for so long and especially in that form that makes me wonder how he looks underneath, human bodies are different than our true forms, they actually give you so much more room to explore. I will never tell him because I don't want to scare Jongsu off but to dig my fingers into that ass and press him against me? Enough to get me excited."

Otohime: "Kaili is so sweet, I felt welcomed the second I met them," Otohime chirps. "Maybe this is too light for dirty thoughts or fantasies but I just want to be near Kaili, the rest comes with it. If they want to go further, we can. If not, I am very much content just laying there and look at the stars, the sea, talk about anything. Allow me to say though that I'd love to know how their lips taste."

Goeun ( about Mai ): "Mai's stares didn't go unnoticed, they make me feel a little hot and bothered. Why do I imagine sitting on her lap and rolling my hips while waiting in my dressing room?" Goeun holds her burning cheeks. "That's... keeping me awake, to be honest."

Goeun ( about Kaho ): "Can I have such thoughts about Kaho-san? We barely met and yet, I can't help but imagine how my fingertips would feel on his skin... or how our bodies would press against each other, barely clothed. I am a vampire, I am a little more on the passionate side but this is new... my heart is not beating but I still feel these chills all over my body. It's like his voice lured me in."

[seumyo]

yearning drunk!husband ushijima wakatoshi.

NOTE. contains a bit of alcohol content—though nothing too explicit or anything concerning <33

It always started the same way—kind of like an inside joke that grew wings, feathers, a tab, and Ushijima’s name on the reservation list.

Ushijima never initiated going out drinking with his Schweiden Adlers teammates. In fact, he rarely said anything about it at all. It was always someone else who mentioned it after a game. Always someone else who slung an arm over his shoulder and declared, “C’mon, Ushiwaka, we have to celebrate,” even though Ushijima had never once expressed interest in alcohol, bar food, or drunken conversations.

Still, he always went.

Because it’d be rude if he didn’t at least stay for a few minutes, he thinks.

Sometimes he showed up in his team windbreaker, sometimes in a long, dark gray coat that made him look like a trench-wearing monument of silence. And he never said no, even when the clamor of celebration was already grating at the edges of his patience.

Tonight was one of those nights.

They’d won by the skin of their teeth—an overtime set against a grueling opponent, the kind of match that made even the benchwarmers feel like champions by the end. So of course Heiwajima had started the round-up in the locker room. Hoshiumi had shouted over everyone about their lucky bar down the street, and within twenty minutes, the entire team had found themselves in their regular private suite.

Ushijima sat at the end of the table, his back straight, a glass in front of him filled with alcohol he didn’t particularly like. His teammates were loud and loose and chaotic—laughing at Sokolov trying to arm-wrestle the bar’s bouncer, clapping every time someone dropped a fork, and yelling across the table in at least three different languages.

“A thousand yen says he’ll ask about his wife in twenty minutes,” Hoshiumi said quietly, leaning toward their captain, Hirugami Fukurou.

“You’re giving him way too much credit,” Romero replied, fondly grinning. “He gets wistful around minute twelve.”

“He gets wistful the moment he sits down.”

Ushijima was unmoved. He stared at his drink, took a single sip, and let it rest in his hand. He didn’t participate in the yelling, the toasts, or the story someone was animatedly telling about a missed serve from three seasons ago. He just existed—quietly, stoically—as a satellite to the chaos.

Except, of course, they all knew he was waiting.

He always was.

There was a pattern to the transformation. First, he’d sit there like stone. Then he’d blink a little more slowly. His brows would draw together—not in anger, but in vague confusion, like he was lost in a thought he couldn’t solve. His fingers would move against his glass, not to drink but to fidget, just a little.

And then…

“Has anyone seen my phone?” Ushijima asked, barely louder than the buzz of conversation.

Hoshiumi slid it across the table immediately. “Right here, Ushiwaka. Sorry! We took a few pictures here and there.”

“Thank you.”

He looked down at the screen. It was still lit with the last message from you from earlier that day: Good luck, baby. Don’t forget to stretch your left shoulder. He’d never replied—he never did, not when he was already in headspace—but now, he stared at it like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

“You want to text her?” Hoshiumi asks, lightly teasing, which Ushijima didn’t catch onto.

Ushijima didn’t answer. He opened the thread and typed a few letters. Deleted them. Typed something else. Backspaced. Then just stared.

And then finally: “She hasn’t replied.”

His teammates laughed.

“There it is!”

“It’s only been seventeen minutes! I win!”

“No, you cheated. I said ten, and he didn’t even check his phone until minute twelve!”

“Shh, shh, look at him—he’s pouting.”

“Wait, is this the pout phase? I thought that came after the silent brooding phase.”

“Technically we’re entering pout-brood overlap. It’s a dangerous time.”

Ushijima didn’t argue. He simply set the phone down again and folded his hands in front of him. Kageyama leaned over.

“You want me to call her for you, Ushijima-san?”

Ah, yes. Kageyama was too nice for his own good. Trying to enhance his socialization and trying to lessen his awkwardness with his teammates when the conversation didn’t revolve around volleyball.

Ushijima nodded. Just once. Immediately. “Yes.”

...

“Amazing! He’s not even trying to hide it.”

“Can you imagine being that in love?”

“He just wants his wife. Look at him. He’s a whole sad poem in one sitting.”

“She’s gonna get here, and he’s gonna light up like a lantern.”

“May this love run me over.”

Kageyama stood and walked a few paces away from the table, already dialing your number. Meanwhile, the others watched Ushijima sip his drink again—not because he wanted it, but because it gave his hands something to do. His eyes were glued to the screen even though no new notifications had appeared.

Romero leaned in conspiratorially to Hirugami. “Do you think she talks to him in, like, soft tones? Calls him ‘baby’ and stuff?”

“I think so,” he shrugs. “I think they’re sweet like that.”

“Aw, young love.”

The teasing continued, but it softened. Because underneath the jokes and the laughs was a sort of awe.

Their teammate—so serious, so focused, so unreadable on court—was completely and utterly soft when it came to his wife. Not in a loud way. Not in any way that could be easily teased, really. It was quiet. Heavy. Real.

When Kageyama returned, he had a pleased expression. “She’s on her way. Said she just got off work and is driving over.”

Ushijima gave another slow blink.

“Thank you.”

Kageyama nods. Somehow they manage to have conversations even if they just continue nodding to each other.

As soon as Kageyama said it, his phone buzzed with a new message. He didn’t even need to open it. He could tell by the way his entire body relaxed by a single, barely noticeable degree.

Sorry, hun. Just got off work. Are you okay?

He replied.

I’m okay. I miss you.

And then he set the phone down and folded his hands again, this time with more calm. More certainty. You were coming. That was all he needed to know.

The others noticed the shift immediately.

“He smiled.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“He did! Don’t argue with me; I saw it. It was micro. But it counted.”

“He’s already halfway out the door with his heart.”

“Watch, the second she walks through that door, he’ll go full puppy mode.”

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the door opened. A gust of cold air followed you inside, along with the soft jingle of the bar’s entrance bell. You spotted them easily—your eyes landing on Ushijima before anything else. And his entire body seemed to change shape.

He stood up—not quickly, but instantly, with a kind of gravity no one else in the room had.

You smiled as you approached, slipping out of your coat and brushing off the cold that nipped your nose softly. “Hi, love,” you greeted softly. “You ready to go?”

“Yes,” Ushijima said, already reaching for his jacket.

As he shrugged it on, you turned to the table. “Hope he wasn’t too much trouble?”

Hoshiumi leaned on the table with a grin. “[Name], your husband is the definition of ‘not trouble.’ We’re just grateful you came to collect him before he sighed himself into the carpet.”

“Tell them what he said!” someone shouted.

“He asked if anyone had seen his phone like it was a national emergency.”

“And he didn’t pout—he brooded. Like a man out of a romantic novel.”

“I think I did,” Ushijima just nodded at their comments about him.

He then stood by quietly, waiting for you to finish your goodbyes. When you looped your arm through his, he leaned ever so slightly toward you.

As they left, Romero raised his glass.

“To [Name]’s husband,” he declared. The table cheered.

Outside, as you two walked toward the car, you glanced up at him, fingers tightening around his arm.

“You really okay?” you asked.

He hummed. Then, in that low, steady voice only you ever got to hear, it softened—

“I missed you,” he said again. “They were loud. I wanted to see you very much.”

You smiled and gave his arm a firm, loving squeeze. “Well. I’m here now.”

And... yeah.

That’s what he’s been wanting to hear all night.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[beloveds-embrace]

(john price x reader who basically manifests him into her life)

It all started with a pie.

A blackberry pie, to be exact. One that you’d spent a good part of the morning perfecting- balancing the sweetness and tartness with the precision of a master alchemist concocting a love potion. You were almost convinced that this particular pie might finally be the answer to your mother’s prayers: an offering so mouthwatering that it would distract her from once again insisting you marry that insufferably dull miller’s son, Thomas.

You had just placed it on the windowsill to cool, the aroma curling through the cottage like a siren’s song, when your mother barged in, cheeks flushed with determination. “I’ve invited Thomas for supper.” She announced, as if she was a witch summoning a dark spirit.

You almost dropped the teapot. “Mother, no.”

“Mother, yes. Darling, you’re not getting any younger.” She clasped her hands like a pious martyr, staring heavenward as if appealing for divine assistance. “Why, you are practically ancient now. Do you know how many children I had at your age? Three! And you- still unmarried. People are talking.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but that’s when inspiration struck. Perhaps it was the sweetness of the pie that made your thoughts reckless, or perhaps the desperation of avoiding Thomas’s endless ramblings about grain prices, and so you straightened your spine. “… But I already have a suitor.”

Your mother paused, mouth pursed like she’d bitten into a particularly sour lemon. “You what?”

“Yes.” You adjusted your apron with all the gravitas of a queen revealing her long-lost heir, except you were revealing a beloved. “He’s a soldier. Off fighting bravely in the war. Captain… John Price.” You plucked the name from thin air, thinking it sounded stalwart, military-ish and utterly believable.

Your mother’s eyes narrowed. “And why haven’t I heard of this… Captain before?”

“Well, we didn’t want to make a fuss. You know how people talk.”

Her suspicion melted, replaced with gleaming hope. “A soldier, you say? A captain?”

“Yes,” you continued, your voice growing bolder. Let ir never be said that you did not inherit some of your father’s love for theatrics. “He writes to me. Beautiful letters, whenever he has the chance to, and I always reply. I’ll… I’ll show you one!”

That’s how you found yourself hunched over your rickety desk that night, ink staining your fingers, spinning an epic tale of love and longing so good you justknew Shakespeare was probably rolling in his grave

Dear Captain John Price,

My heart is but a lonely swallow without you. The days stretch long and tiresome in your absence, but I hold steadfast, knowing that one day you will return to me- my brave, rugged soldier.

Yours, faithfully.

You took great care in writing the letter, wanting it to look as if it had been penned by a devoted girl waiting patiently for her beloved captain. Before folding it, you pressed a dried flower between the pages and lightly scented the paper with a dab of your favorite perfume, the fragrance soft and sweet, leaving no doubt that the writer was a gentle, affectionate soul and not an absolutely insane woman tricking her parents. You even tied it with a delicate ribbon, imagining how any soldier would feel cherished to receive such a letter.

To your utter (non)surprise, it worked. Your mother clutched the letter to her chest with a tearful sigh, whispering something about true love. And from that moment on, Captain John Price became your imaginary lover, a sturdy bulwark against matchmaking attempts.

And so, the years passed, and John Price became a part of your life. You wrote letters to him whenever the pressure to marry reached critical mass, each one a little more elaborate than the last. You even took to carrying one of his supposed letters (which you also wrote yourself) in your apron pocket, just in case anyone questioned your devotion.

You never expected, however, for the Captain himself to show up at your doorstep.

It was a crisp autumn evening when the knock came. You barely registered it, too busy trying to salvage the stew that was steadfastly refusing to thicken. When the knock came again, louder and more insistent, you huffed and flung open the door, still clutching your wooden spoon like a weapon and a mighty glare on your face.

There stood a man. A mountain of a man, truthfully. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a commanding presence that seemed to make the very air hold its breath. His face was framed by a well-groomed beard, his eyes a piercing blue beneath a well-worn cap. And clutched in his large hand was a bundle of letters- scarily familiar letters, actually.

His mouth curved into a slow, wolfish grin. “Well, love. You’ve got some explainin’ to do.”

You froze, spoon hovering mid-air. “You- how- who are you?”

He chuckled, the sound more than a little smug. “Name’s Captain John Price. You might recognize me from your rather… heartfelt correspondence.” He held up one of the letters, the familiar scrawl of your handwriting a stark betrayal.

Your stomach dropped. “…Coincidence.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” he drawled, stepping inside as if he owned the place. “Imagine my surprise when your letters kept landing in my hands. At first, I thought it was just some lonely girl scribbling fantasies. But the boys kept handin’ them to me- said they lifted spirits, readin’ how you were waitin’ for me.”

You spluttered, backing up as he prowled forward. “But- how did they-“

He shrugged, almost casual. “You put my name and rank on the letters. Found their way to me eventually. You’ve been rather… devoted, haven’t you?”

You sputtered. “Devoted? I was just- avoiding marriage!”

His eyes darkened, jaw tightening. “Didn’t stop me from thinking about it. About you. When I read how you longed for me- waited so faithfully- made a man think. Would’ve kept any other bastard from sniffin’ around, I’d hope.”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. “I didn’t think you were real!”

He leaned closer, the scent of tobacco and gunpowder curling around you like a trap. “Oh, I’m real, love. And now I’m here. Reckon you owe me a bit of hospitality after all those love letters, no?”

Your mouth opened and closed like a landed fish.

“Didn’t matter if you didn’t mean it, you still wrote it. Made me think of comin’ home to you, of claimin’ what’s mine.” His fingers brushed your jaw, thumb tracing your cheek with surprising tenderness. “You made yourself mine. And now, I’ve come to collect.”

Before you can muster a protest, he leans down, capturing the corner of your lips in a kiss, your face frozen solid in shock. When he finally pulls back, his thumb brushes your swollen lip.

“That clear enough for you, wife?”

p2

[walmart-icarus]

The captain has a rubber duck on his desk. A rubber duck with aviator sunglasses, to be more specific. It sits right next to his favorite mug and a framed picture of his childhood dog.

Ghost obviously notices. He tried not to say anything about it. He really did. But come on, it’s something he can make fun of his captain for. Would you pass up such an opportunity?

“The fuck is that?” He asks, pointing at the rubber duck

“The fuck does it look like?” Price answers, putting out his cigar on a hot pink ashtray that says BLOWJOB QUEEN with big sparkly letters (a gift from Gaz and Soap, naturally). There’s a brief pause before Ghost opens his mouth again.

“Where’d you get it, then? We barely have the time to-“

“Gift from Laswell.” Price set his pen down with a sigh, giving up on the paperwork in front of him.

They both stare at the duck in silence, observing it.

“Kinda looks like Nikolai, innit?”

Price nods and chuckles. A week later, on the bookshelf right behind the captain’s chair sits three rubber ducks. One with a cap, one with a Mohawk, and one with a mask.

[buckysleftbicep]

letters though time (3) 𐙚 b.b

pairing: 1940s!bucky barnes x modern!fem!reader

warnings: angst.

summary: you find a letter from 1944 hidden in the old brooklyn apartment you moved signed by one james buchanan barnes. you write back, he did too, and somehow, across decades, you both fall in love.

word count: 1.5k

author's note: i love this chapter so much. please leave some feedback or a reblog if you enjoyed it! i tend to forget about tags, please be patient with me, thank you loves. stay safe out there!

series masterlist

You reread his letter so many times the edges began to curl.

He was leaving.

You stared at the letter in your hands, heart pounding like it was trying to outrun history. The words blurred at the edges, but you didn’t need to read them again. You already knew.

You knew the date, April 8th, 1944, etched into your memory long before his handwriting ever reached you. You had seen it in textbooks, beneath faded photographs, on a bronze plaque mounted inside the Smithsonian: Sergeant James Barnes, deployed with Captain Steve Rogers to intercept a HYDRA transport in the Austrian Alps.

You knew that mission. Everyone did.

It was the one where he fell. Where the world believed he died.

Except he didn’t.

You knew what came after, how HYDRA had found him in the wreckage and broken him in ways no one should ever be broken.

How their scientists, cruel and methodical, stripped him down to nothing. Rewrote him. Erased him. Until all that remained was a killing machine, sharp and merciless, a ghost with a metal arm and no name.

When you first started working at the museum, you had gone down that rabbit hole, read every article, studied every declassified file, perhaps even the ones you were specifically told not to read.

You had seen the stills, the grainy footage, the Winter Soldier moving like a machine, swift and ruthless, with eyes that held no trace of the man writing you these letters now. The man you had fallen in love with.

And now he was writing to you, sweet, hopeful, himself, without knowing what awaited him on the other side of that mission.

You gripped the letter until your knuckles turned white, heart lodged so high in your throat you could barely breathe. You blinked, hoping the words would change. That maybe this letter would say he wasn’t going, that he had changed his mind. That somehow, knowing you, and perhaps falling for you had altered the path of fate.

But the words stayed the same.

And so did history.

Please wait for me.

Your chest felt too tight to breathe.

You didn’t sleep that night. You couldn't.

You sat on the floor beside the cabinet, the old walnut drawer yawning open, its linen lining wrinkled and worn from too many anxious, trembling hands.

His letters were everywhere, scattered like fallen leaves around you. Pages upon pages, thick with ink and hope, with quiet jokes, whispered dreams, and all the soft, unspoken pieces of him that had stitched themselves gently into your heart.

And now history was threatening to take him away.

You couldn’t stop pacing the next morning.

Couldn’t stop chewing at your bottom lip, eyes flicking toward the drawer every five minutes like it would somehow answer you.

When the next letter came, you nearly dropped it from the tremor in your fingers.

April 1st, 1944 Sweetheart, You’ve gone quiet. Did I say something wrong? I hope I didn’t scare you with what I wrote. I just… I need you to know I’m serious. About all of this. About you. It’s crazy, isn’t it? Falling for someone through paper and time. But I have. I’ve fallen for you. And maybe it’s selfish, but I hope you feel the same. I’ll write again tomorrow. Just… say something, will you? Please. Always, James

You sat down that instant and scribbled out a reply with shaking hands.

Bucky, Please don’t go on this mission. I know that sounds ridiculous. I know you can’t just walk away from orders. But something terrible is going to happen. I can’t tell you how I know, it would change too much, but please… don’t go on this mission. You won’t come back the same. If you do come back at all. Please, just trust me. Please.

You folded the letter with trembling fingers and tucked it into the drawer.

So you waited. And waited.

But no letter came the next day. Or the one after that. Or the day after that.

The silence grew heavy, pressing. Like the space between heartbeats stretched too far apart.

By the fourth day, the ache settled deep in your chest—sharp and constant, like something vital was missing. You kept his photo tucked in your wallet, pulling it out so often the edges had started to wear.

You stared at it until the ink blurred behind tears you refused to wipe away. You paced the apartment like a ghost in your own life, whispering his name into the quiet, as if somehow, just somehow, it might find Bucky. Might bring him back.

On the fifth day, you found a letter.

But the paper wasn’t soft with affection, it was creased, angry.

April 4th, 1944 (Y/N), You ask me to trust you, but you won’t trust me to finish this mission. You want me to believe you, about this, about danger, but you won’t say why. Won’t explain. You just beg me not to go. You say I won’t come back the same. That I might not come back at all. Do you know how that feels to read? Like you’ve already written my end for me. Is this all just a game to you? Some story you’re writing? Because it stopped feeling like fiction to me a long time ago. I care about you. I’ve trusted you with more of myself than anyone else in years. And now I don’t know what to think. I need time. - J

You stared at the letter for a long time.

Then you sank to the floor, hands cradling your head.

Tears slipped down your cheeks soundlessly. You didn’t blame him. Not really. You couldn’t explain how you knew what was coming. No, you couldn’t tell him he’d be taken, tortured, frozen. You couldn't tell him that his future was a blur of blood and silence and death.

You couldn’t say it without breaking something sacred.

But still, it hurt. god, it hurt.

You didn’t write back. Not right away.

You told yourself he needed space. That maybe he would feel your silence and understand it wasn’t anger, it was fear. A fear too heavy to put into words.

You wanted to give him time. But you didn’t realise just how little time he had left.

Four days passed. Each one sharp around the edges, like they had been carved from glass. Fragile and ready to shatter.

And still...no letter.

And then, on the morning of April 8th, you opened the drawer and found his letter.

Your breath hitched before you even touched it.

The envelope was different. Heavier. The paper thicker than usual.

You unfolded it with trembling fingers.

April 8th, 1944 Doll, We leave for Germany in a few hours. I couldn’t go without writing you one last time. I didn’t want things to end on anger. I’m sorry I pushed you. I just...it scared me, that’s all. The way you spoke like you knew what would happen, I was shaken, and I don’t like feeling helpless. But I trust you. I do. I told Howard what you said. I didn’t give him details, just that someone I cared about, someone important, warned me something could go wrong. He seemed to believe me, said that maybe time’s not as solid as we think. He told me he’s been working on something. Said he might have a way to pull me through. So if I make it back, if I survive, maybe there’s a chance we would meet. I'll find you. Please wait for me, (Y/N). And if nothing else, just know this, I love you. Always yours, James

You folded the letter in silence, breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. The ache in your chest made it hard to sit upright, let alone think.

Your hands trembled as you reached for paper, fingers cold and clumsy around the pen. You didn’t write paragraphs, didn’t spill your heart across the page in desperate, sprawling confessions.

There was nothing left to say that could rewrite history. So instead, you wrote only three words, quiet, aching, infinite. Words that had lived in your chest for weeks. Words that felt both like a promise and a goodbye.

I love you.

You placed it in the drawer, fingertips lingering on the edge like a goodbye you weren’t ready to give. The paper felt heavier than it should’ve, like it carried every unspoken word you hadn’t dared to write.

You closed the drawer gently, too gently, like slamming it might break something irreparable.

And that was the last time.

You never got another letter again.

For days afterward, you couldn’t bring yourself to touch it. Couldn’t even glance at the cabinet without that familiar sting behind your eyes, without your chest tightening like your ribs were trying to hold something broken together.

The silence wasn’t just quiet, it was cruel. Loud in its finality.

You told yourself maybe tomorrow. Maybe the drawer would open and there would be something waiting. Another slanted signature. Another piece of him.

But there was nothing.

And eventually, the ache settled in deep, bone-deep, the kind of grief that didn’t scream but pressed down slowly. You found yourself avoiding the cabinet altogether, skirting around it like it might hurt you if you got too close.

You stopped checking.

Stopped hoping.

Because it felt like mourning someone who hadn’t died, but who had still somehow left you behind.

a/n: i hope you love this chapter as much as i did! thank you for stopping by!

taglist: @ndanddnd @darling-eos @alikkatz @creepybake @maryssong23 @mgchaser @hiraethmae @coffeecigsandcommentary @iyskgd @silverdoragon @lori19 @counterstr1ke @cyberxlust @throwmethroughawindow @keira-kaz2y5

[infictionalwonderland]

Hey, I hope you’re having a good day! I had an idea, Marvel cast flirting with y/n for x minutes?

. . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT!

part 2 / part 3

Coming home from an extremely long and stressful day/week was unfortunately something very familiar to you—so familiar that you and your best friend (your not famous best friend who was your pilar through all the chaos fame brought) had created a little routine; she’d send you various videos and links to movies and online books she knew would relax and amuse you.

So, cuddled up in your bed with your pyjamas and your star lights on (a true child at heart, always) you opened up your chats with them and eagerly swiped to see that they’d sent.

‘Marvel Cast Flirting with Y/N Y/L/N For 10 Minutes Straight!’ was the video for tonight.

Immediately you cackled to yourself, hurriedly sending your best friend thanks in the form of ironic emojis and frantic proclamations of undying love, before loading up the (true to prior word) ten minute long video.

Surely this was an exaggeration.

The video began, large letters in a cute font appearing on the dark screen ‘the marvel cast all being in love flirting with y/n for ten minutes’. The quick ‘AS THEY SHOULD’ before the clips started playing made you giggle to yourself.

The first clip was from some years back, you were pretty sure this was a premiere for The Avengers, given how you looked and the quality—you were standing opposite on interview, smile on your face and dressed in a pretty outfit the same colour of your character’s aesthetic.

“How do you feel about your costume?”

Before you could even answer the interviews question, Scarlett intercepted your interview—hair in a short red bob and a smirking grin at her lips as she wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Well I know how we all feel about this ladies costume, it’s a beautiful piece that just makes the women wearing all the more beautiful. If that’s even possible.”

The edit quickly gave Scarlett beating heart eyes for you as she didn’t tear her eyes away from you for a second—making present time you laugh.

With that she kissed your cheek, leaving a red mark of her lipstick and walked away, dramatically winking in your direction.

The second clip was a blooper, from .. Captain America: Civil War, you thought. You were on Sebastian’s shoulders, thighs locked over his head—in character, as your character and his were mid fight.

He stumbled back over a table accidentally and you let out a startled yelp, hands flying to steady yourself in his long hair and one of his landing on your arse cheek to steady you as he steadied himself with the other.

“Is it bad that I’m loving this?”

“SEBA—“

“Cut!”

The third clip was you and Lizzie (Elizabeth Olsen) reacting fan tweets; Lizzie unrolled the piece of paper, her eyes lighting up as she giggled with a little smirk.

“Elizabeth. .” You wearily trailed off, looking at your friend.

“Sorry, sorry. Okay! This tweet says if i could just pretty BEEP please with the juiciest most mouthwatering cherry on top get a not kid friendly scene of Wanda and (Your Character) I could die peacefully, my wish fulfilled. I implore you marvel, listen to your dying fan.”

“That tweet had over fifty thousand likes as well.” A feminine voice added in from behind the camera, laughter in her tone.

You and Lizzie turned to each other at the same time, grinning.

“I mean the fan is dying babe. .”

“Right? We should totally make this happen, like, totally.” She gave you a cheeky once over, eyes appreciating all of you. “Because it was the fans wish, not mine, duh.” Lizzie added.

“Mhm.” You hummed with a smirk.

The fourth clip was a evidently some sort of ‘guess the body part’ game: a photo of what you were pretty sure was your bottom half was the picture currently used for guessing, in the picture you were leaned over in a pair of yoga pants and in your personal opinion, you looked good. Well, your arse looked good (amazing, otherworldly—you humbly added)

Lizzie was the first person to answer, the video showing each persons turn one by one and immediately she said, “that’s my girl. Y/N.” Then giggling she added, “now get my girls booty off the screen, I don’t need you all ogling her. We get enough of that, sometimes causes a strain on us. But we’ve remained strong together.”

Paul Rudd was next and he stared at the picture of you for a few solid seconds, “it’s Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted. He pointed an accusing finger dramatically towards the camera—“I only know this because of all the edits you guys make!”

“You don’t have to watch them.” The interviewer pointed out innocently; Paul pouted, grumbling.

Next was Anthony who instantly answered, “That’s Y/N right here!” He hyped you up, grinning. “Don’t even try and make it creepy, we do glutes together man, it’s why we’re the best asses in the cast. Up top!” Anthony exclaimed, holding his hand up towards the picture as if pretending to high five you or something—the interviewer timidly gave him a high five.

Sebastian was next as you (and everyone) watch his eyes flicker and grin that was more of a smirk spread across his cheeks, “that’s definitely y/n.” He assumed instantly. “Would’ve been able to tell you that blindfolded.”

“But—“

“I’d have just sensed her.” Sebastian giggled.

Chris Evans was next—a grin picked up on his face immediately, eyes trained on the photo of you and he ran a hand over his beard, lightly biting his lip (HEELLLOOO????)

“That’s Y/n.” Chris stated confidently, smirking lightly and the camera caught some of the team in line of sight exchange raised eyebrows.

The fifth clip was of Brie Larson who was being interviewed on some sort of premiere event again—presumably or her (marvellous) movie, Captain Marvel, smiling at the interviewer.

“Out of all of the people on the Marvel Cast, those who you’ve met, do you have a favourite out of them?” The interview questioned.

“I’m not really one for favourites but I would definitely say I’m closest to Y/n! She’s—she’s just so lovely and funny and she’s like a ray of sunshine, honestly. She’s been a great help in the filming process as well, she coached me through everything with so patience—I would’ve strangled me if I was her, but no, she just had that adorable smile on her face. She’s truly an amazing person and a better friend than I thought possible.” Brie answered enthusiastically with a soft smile.

“Awwww! We love to hear that—are any of the rumours about her true?”

Brie blinked, seeming taken aback for a brief moment— “Yes she does smell amazing, she’s always effortlessly beautiful, she’s unfailingly hilarious and yes no one in this world deserves her. But like. . if she’s open to it,” Brie paused, winking at the camera and making a call me sign with her hands and mouthing the words with a flirty grin.

The sixth clip was of you, Tom Holland, RDJ, Paul Bettany, Zoe Saldana and Pom Klementieff on Jimmy Kimmel, tasked with drawing your characters. The clip started just as you turned around the drawing of your character and well, it was actually surprisingly good in your own opinion—the audience immediately erupted into loud and obnoxious cheers.

“As great as that is, love, it still doenst capture the extent of your beauty.” Tom Holland, who was sat to your left, grinned cheekily at you and the audience practically shouted and hooted.

“Would anything ever?” Zoe shot back from your right side, twirling a lock of your hair affectionately and smiling as she leaned against you.

“I sincerely doubt that anything could.” RDJ piped up, giving you an unapologetic grin when you looked over at him with fond exasperation as the crowd was practically inconsolable in their glee and enthusiasm, shouting out your praises. “Give it up for sunshine, people. Our gorgeous ray of sunshine!”

“I—“

“They are quite right, Y/n.” Paul Bettany spoke over Jimmy who was obviously going to try and calm down his crowd.

The seventh clip started playing: it was a clip taken from Jacob Batalon’s story, clearly in a party setting—the video showed you and Zendaya in the centre of the dance floor, everyone around you clearly watching you both as you danced up against each other to the sounds of Yeah! by Usher.

“Mate I think your girls about to be stole.” The voice of Tom’s friend, Harrison, sounded from beside Jacob and presumably Tom himself and to empathise Harrison’s words, Jacob zoomed in on your faces, wide grins of ecstasy, and the way Zendaya was admiring you.

“Right in public as well, the scandal.” Jacob cackled.

The eighth clip was an interview of Chris Evans and McKenna Grace (you adored that little girl to pieces). The two of them were answering the ‘Webs Most Searched Question’s’ together.

“Who was.. Chris Evans, date at the Oscars?”

McKenna immediately ooed, smiling teasingly and Chris laughed from beside her.

“This is getting juicy!”

“Well, it was my mom one year and then my sister last year—“

“He wishes it was Y/n though.” The little girl laughed with a beaming smile on her lips and you, present time, arched a brow.

Chris bashfully chuckled with a smile and you swore you could see a genuine red hue on his cheeks, “I mean—it’s Y/n. Anyone would be happy to go with her.”

“I would be!” McKenna excitedly exclaimed as she grinned so sweetly you were now going to make sure you took this sweet child with you to the Oscar’s, Chris seemed to melt as well, recovering from his brief flustered moment.

The ninth clip was Sebastian and Anthony reading out their thirst tweets in a Buzzfeed interview, the clip started as Sebastian was pulling out a tweet from the large bucket.

He read it to himself and blushed faintly, Anthony’s eyebrows practically reaching his forehead as he tried to lean over and read it but Sebastian jokingly shoved him back.

“Oh for—That scene where (Your Character) chokes baby Bucky out with her thighs, his—his head all up in there; the shit I would give to be her, I would give my soul, my fridge, my moms purse, my dads golf clubs. Please, sir. Put your face between my legs like you did Y/n.”

By the end of the tweet, Sebastian had a deeply awkward and slightly perturbed look on his face and Anthony cackled at his side.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he was more than happy with it being Y/n, wouldn’t change it even for your dads golf clubs.” Anthony laughed.

“That’s. . I’m gonna have to decline that, um, respectfully.” Sebastian spoke in regards to the tweet, ignoring Anthony.

In turn, Anthony ignored Sebastian as well and just dramatically kept winking at the camera.

The tenth clip was Cobie Smulders, who was being interviewed on some sort of carpet event, smile on her face as she spoke to the interviewer before her.

“How does it feel knowing that the lesbian community, myself included, are firmly rooting for your character, Maria and Y/N’s character (Your Character) to end up together?”

Cobie’s smile turned genuinely delighted, “I love it—we love it. Y/n and I actually have made so many PowerPoints and presented them to the Russo brothers, but alas. I do really want to end up with her—oops, sorry, wait. I really want my character to end with hers. . would be the appropriate wording. But I’m all for inappropriate if Y/n wants.”

Cobie jokingly bit her lip at the camera and you, watching the video, could not contain your laughter as the interviewer practically burst out with excitement.

The eleventh clip was a blooper from your filming of the avengers—you were standing next to Chris Hemsworth who had an arm around your waist, holding you to him as in the scene his character, Thor, flies the both of you away. But Chris quickly tugged you in front of him and began tickling you mercilessly, hysterical giggles falling from your lips as the people around you laughed as well.

“Chris, HAVE MERCY!”

“Aw, but I enjoy hearing your laughter. It’s a very pretty sound.” Chris laughed to himself, finally stopping his attack and letting you slump against his, back to his front. “I particularly like this as well.” He smirked down at you.

“CHRI—“

In the twelfth clip, you and Tessa Thompson were reading out thirst tweets together: “The feminine urge to fall asleep cuddled into Y/n’s boobs is too real, pls come here mommy.” You read out, giggling all the while.

“The urge is so strong.” Tess commented, nodding her add as she sneakily glanced at your chest with a innocent smile.

“Come here, baby.” You joked, laughing as you opened your arms for her and she practically leaped into them, resting her head on your chest.

“I’m living the dreams of millions right now and it feels amazing.” Tessa gloated jokingly, pulling away from you with only final squeeze and a little wink the camera caught.

“I concur.” You grinned back.

The thirteenth clip was you and Tom Hiddleston, talking with an interviewer on a carpet event. His arm was around your waist and both of you were wearing smiles greeting the interviewer.

“So, obviously, you both act in marvel movies, but not really close together! If you could, would you want to work more closely and have you characters be more involved?”

“I absolutely would.” Tom immediately replied with an honest, heartwarming smile. “And personally, it’s not even a fact of our characters being intertwined it’s more that working this fantastic woman beside me is a gift I have come to deeply cherish, truly it’s an honour. And I suppose, if our characters were to get involved, so to speak, that I would enjoy that because this is the y/n y/l/n, I’d be a mad man not to want that.” He finished charmingly.

You grinned, taking a bow, and both Tom and the interviewer laughed before that clip cut as well.

The fourteenth clip was at Comic-Con, mostly everyone on the cast had already been called out and taken their seats and then your name was called, the audience erupting into loud cheers.

Sebastian, who was sat next to your assigned seat, hopped and and jogged over to offer you his arm as you grinned and waved at everyone—the crowd screaming louder at his actions.

The screams only increased as Chris Evans and Don Cheadle got up to pull out your chair for you to sit down in—you pretended to swoon into Sebastian before kissing all of their cheeks and taking your seat.

“Where was the treatment for me?” RDJ joked.

“Man, they’re just whipped. But, like, who isn’t for Y/n?” Anthony stage whispered back to him and the crowd literally roared in excitement.

The fifteenth clip was Aaron Taylor-Johnson being interviewed with Lizzie for the Age of Ultron press, most probably.

“So, Aaron, obviously your character—spoilers, sorry—isn’t with us anymore but if you had the chance to explore Pietro more, who would you have wanted to explore a romance with?”

“(Your Character) definitely, Y/N.” Aaron answered with a little sheepish grin at the speed and Lizzie giggled into her palm.

“I’m not making fun, I agree, for myself.” Lizzie commented unprompted.

“Why is that?” The interviewer questioned.

“Why—mate, I think it’s pretty obvious. Y/n is such a stunning person, inside and out, I would have loved to—and obviously her character is extremely sick and I’m certain the relationship between her and Pietro would’ve been the stuff of legends but. . come on, Y/n Y/l/n is my real reason.” Aaron joked.

“Get your own girl, she’s mine.” Lizzie glared.

There were still many minutes left of the video left and that alone astounded you; overcome with cackles, you forwarded the video the your Marvel groupchat—so yall bitches like obsessed with me or sum 🥰🥰🥰

[hollyberrygarden]

I was thinking over the way Pavlova describes Wildberry's crush. he says (direct quote), "you know well that it won't work out, but you have no intention of giving up!" in their interaction in the kingdom, he also calls it a "foolish" type of love

and I was like. what does that imply about Wildberry's crush?? and how would it apply to Crunchy Chip??

"foolish" implies a lack of good sense or judgment. it's a crush that can only end negatively—heartbreak, fighting, strain, or some other horrible result. Wildberry could either keep his feelings to himself, being unhappy with his own cowardice. he could also confess and get rejected, therefore losing whatever bond he had with his crush in the first place. but he could also be accepted and enter a relationship, but then the worries he has could be true. it could not work out, just like he knows it won't, and it would be unfair to both of them. every possible end result (to someone who is convinced it will not work out) would demonstrate the foolishness of the crush he has. Wildberry strikes me as the kind of guy who doesn't get crushes often, and he deals with them on his own before he chooses to confess, if ever

I'm imagining him in his own head about it, which is why no one else seems to know; it could also be why he doesn't externally react to it when the others are around but pretty much concedes to his worries over it (and openly seems. I guess worried about them!!) when he's talking one-on-one with Pavlova. he has gone over these possibilities to himself without any external input. he is trying to figure out how to make it work, which is the "no intention of giving up" that Pavlova mentioned, but maybe he doesn't have a set answer yet, which is why it's still something he hasn't confessed. Pavlova only knows because it's what he does

I was thinking about why it "not working out" (very generally speaking) is something he would think about, and I wondered what kind of relationship he would want. in an overworld dialogue, Royal Margarine tells him he must be "popular with a tall, muscular build like that." whether it's true is unknown, but Wildberry says he doesn't care about such "trivialities," assumedly being popular. if he doesn't want popularity, maybe he wants something simple?? or steady?? or maybe even straightforward. it's hard to know for sure. he wants something that's actually possible for him and his lifestyle in the kingdom. he's a busy guy who often travels away for important and dangerous business. it would be difficult to be in any kind of steady relationship when that's what you do for work. long distance isn't for everyone

to him, he cannot be with Crunchy Chip because of their duties to their kingdoms. I think it circles back to that. Crunchy Chip is the captain of the cream wolves in the Dark Cacao Kingdom, and he is close enough to the king to travel with him to Beast Yeast. he protects the kingdom every day, as well as the woods surrounding it. Wildberry is a hired bodyguard to the Queen Mother, and he has sworn loyalty to her (and the king and queen of course); he frequently travels for work and is likely gone for long stretches of time, depending. they both have very important jobs that neither wants to give up. during Cookie Odyssey, they each talk about their love for their kingdoms and their respective leaders, even making a bet about who will want to visit the other more. they exchange letters on the regular. Hollyberry herself has noticed how much closer they're getting. he knows how much Crunchy Chip values his position in the Dark Cacaco Kingdom, and he values his own position in the Hollyberry Kingdom. they don't want to leave. they cannot leave. not now, maybe not for a long time. maybe not ever, in a horrible reality

it's foolish in every way fathomable. to Wildberry, at least

[thecaptainsdeck]

happy saint patricks day!

I'M NOT FECKIN IRISH!!!!!!

am still getting drunk though

[inseobts]

Sunshine Lost

strawhat crew x fem ! strawhat ! reader (platonic)

you're the sunshine of the strawhats, until doubt shattered everything—and years later, when you return on the enemy’s side, your final act of love is a sacrifice they’ll never forget

words count: 2.4k

tags: platonic, d3ath/sacrifice, angst, hurt/comfort, accusation, misunderstanding, found family, marine involvement

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sun shines high over the Thousand Sunny, and you’re dancing on the deck again.

"Yoo-hoo~! Sanji! Is lunch ready yet?" you sing, spinning in place as you wave your arms like a windmill "I’m starving!"

"Almost done, my sunshine angel!" Sanji calls from the kitchen window. He’s got that goofy heart-face again "Just a few more minutes, mon amour!"

You giggle "Okay! I’ll wait with my stomach screaming!"

"Don’t scream too loud," Zoro mutters from where he naps on the deck "Some of us are trying to sleep."

"Grumpy swordsman alert!" you tease, poking his leg as you skip past him.

He grunts. Doesn’t move. Classic Zoro.

Nami looks up from her map "You’ve got too much energy. You sure you didn’t sneak any cola from Franky’s stash?"

You gasp, hand to your chest "I would never! I’m innocent!"

Luffy laughs as he climbs up the mast "She just runs on sunshine!"

You beam at that. It’s true. You love them all so much. Being part of the Straw Hat crew is like a dream come true. You’re always ready to help, to smile, to cheer someone up, even when the seas are rough.

But today… today feels just a little strange.

At night, after dinner, Robin finds you sitting by yourself near the rail.

"You’re writing again?" she asks, soft voice blending with the wind.

You nod, hiding the paper quickly "Just a letter."

"To your cousin in the Marines?"

"Yeah," you say "But it’s not like I tell them anything important. I just wanna know if they’re okay."

Robin nods slowly "Be careful. Not everyone sees things like you do."

You blink "What do you mean?"

She just smiles, sad and mysterious "That sunshine of yours… don’t let anyone steal it."

You laugh "No one can steal the sun, Robin."

But you keep your letter hidden that night, folded under your pillow.

A week later, everything falls apart.

"How did they know?!" Nami slams her hands on the table "The Marines were waiting for us at the next island—again! That’s three times now!"

"We even changed our plans" Zoro growls "There’s no way they should’ve known."

Luffy’s quiet. Too quiet.

Franky crosses his arms "Somebody’s talking."

"What are you saying?" You ask, blinking “No one here would do that!”

Brook looks at you gently "Miss Y/N… it’s true someone might be giving them hints, even if they don’t mean to."

You feel the room tilt.

"I talk to someone in the Marines… but I never tell them anything important! I swear!"

Sanji’s smoking. He doesn’t look at you.

"You write letters, don’t you?" Nami’s voice is sharp now "Maybe they read them. Maybe you say more than you think."

"No!" You stand up. Your hands shake "I would never hurt you guys. I love you!"

Robin’s voice is cool "We know how much you care. But the pattern is real. We can’t ignore it."

"You think it’s me." You look around the table "You all think it’s me."

No one answers.

Luffy’s still quiet.

That hurts the most.

You whisper, "Captain?"

He looks up "Just… give us some time, Y/N."

And with that, you’re dismissed.

Your chest feels like it’s caving in. Like someone reached in and squeezed the sun right out of you.

Later that night, you sit alone again. No dancing. No singing. Just silence.

You don’t write a letter. You don’t smile.

Just sit.

Because when your family doubts you… what’s left to shine for?

The ship is quiet tonight. Too quiet. Like it knows you’re leaving.

No stars in the sky, just heavy clouds. Wind brushing your skin like cold fingers. You shiver, but not from the breeze.

You stand in the dark hallway, holding a small bag. Just the basics. You don’t need much. You never did.

Inside the boys' room, you hear snoring. Zoro. Maybe Usopp too. Or even Luffy. In the kitchen, nothing but silence. Sanji must have gone to bed early. Robin’s reading in the library. She won’t hear you pass.

You pause for one second. Just one.

No. You can’t stop. If you say goodbye, you’ll cry. If you cry, you’ll stay. And you can’t stay.

They didn’t believe you.

They looked at you with those eyes. Like you were a traitor. A liar. A risk.

You thought this crew was your family. Your safe place. Your light. But now all you feel is cold.

And you’ve been through this before.

Back then, when people you loved turned their backs on you. Back then, when “trust” was just a word, not a promise.

You swore if it happened again, you wouldn’t wait around to feel it twice.

So you don’t.

You lower a small boat into the sea. No sound, just soft ripples. Your heart is beating loud though. It almost drowns everything else.

You don’t look back.

Not once.

When the sun rises, Luffy yawns and stretches.

“Morning!” he calls, walking toward the kitchen “Hey, Y/N! You awake?”

No answer.

“Probably sleeping in,” Usopp mumbles as he walks by “She always does after a storm.”

Robin glances around “She’s not in the girls’ room.”

Sanji checks the kitchen “She’s not here either…”

Jinbe frowns “Where’s her bag?”

Chopper runs around, checking corners “She’s not anywhere! She’s gone! She’s really gone!”

Nami’s eyes go wide “No note? No nothing?”

Silence.

And then Luffy steps outside. Looks out at the open sea.

He whispers, voice hoarse, “She left.”

No one knows what to say.

Because they all felt it.

They all doubted. And now… the sunshine is gone.

Three Years Later

Location: Pyros Island – North District, in flames

“Move in! We don’t let them escape again!”

The shout cuts through fire and gunpowder smoke.

The Strawhats are in the middle of chaos, racing down broken stone streets, dodging cannon fire, punching through enemy ranks. This was supposed to be a stealth job. Take down a weapons lab. Get out.

It isn’t... because you’re here.

You step out from the shadows, cloak whipping behind you, no longer in bright colors or sunny dresses. You're in black and crimson now... worn gear, face half-covered by a mask. Your eyes sharp.

Not the sunshine girl they remember.

"Stop!" Sanji shouts, eyes wide “That’s—!”

"Y/N...?” Nami says your name like it’s a memory slipping out by accident.

Zoro freezes “No way...”

Luffy stares at you from across the smoke-filled plaza, fists trembling at his sides.

But you don’t say a word.

Instead, you pull your blade.

Your team moves with you, mercenaries, ex-revolutionaries, no flag but fire. You're not with the Marines, never were. But you’re on the other side now. That much is clear.

Brook deflects a strike from one of your allies “Miss Y/N?! Is it truly you?”

You don’t answer.

Too fast. Too close. Luffy launches forward.

“Y/N, stop! Why are you—”

You clash.

Your blade hits his fist, sparks flying.

“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends” you snap. Your voice is colder. Steady. But underneath, your hands are shaking.

“You left us,” he says “Without a word!”

"You doubted me first, how could I stay?" you spit back, eyes flashing.

Robin tries to reach you “You were hurting. We didn’t see it then. But we do now. We—”

“Don’t.” you hiss, swinging at her, forcing her back “You don’t get to say that now.”

Everything’s burning. Everything’s loud. You see fire in every direction. Screams. Crashes.

You hear the crew shouting your name, over and over.

"Y/N!"

"Sunshine, please!"

"Don’t do this!"

You clutch your head suddenly.

They’re louder. But they’re not saying the right things.

Why now? Why not then?

You blink and the battlefield shifts.

Suddenly, they’re laughing. Mocking.

You see their faces, twisted... Zoro glaring, Nami whispering, Luffy turning away.

“You talk to Marines?”

“She’s a spy.”

“We can’t trust her.”

You hear your own voice screaming. No, no, no, that’s not what happened!

You stumble back, vision swimming.

Your chest aches. You can’t breathe.

“Shut up!” you scream, though no one is talking now “Get out of my head!”

Luffy runs toward you again “We didn’t mean it! We were wrong! I was wrong!”

You see the real Luffy this time, his eyes wide, real, full of pain.

But you still can't move.

Too many voices.

Too many memories.

Too many lies you told yourself just to survive.

You drop a smoke bomb and vanish in the clouds.

You hide deep in the ruins. Knees pulled to your chest, eyes wide, breathing heavy.

“…I thought I forgot” you whisper to no one.

But you didn’t.

You remember every laugh. Every dinner. Every hand on your shoulder.

And the way they looked at you that day.

Back on the battlefield, the Strawhats stand in silence, the fire dying down.

“She’s not our sunshine anymore...” Sanji mutters.

“No,” Luffy says, fists clenched “She is. We just broke her light.”

Luffy crashes into the ground, breath knocked out of him. His hat flies off.

“Damn it!” he groans, pushing himself up.

Zoro stands bloodied, blade shaking in his grip “There’s too many.”

Sanji is on one knee, coughing hard “They’re surrounding us.”

“They’re fighting harder because of her,” Nami says between clenched teeth, weather staff crackling with weak sparks “They think we broke her. Maybe we did.”

Brook’s coat is torn. Franky’s chest plate is dented. Chopper’s trying to hold everyone together, but his hands won’t stop shaking.

Robin is quiet. Her arms bloom around them like shields, trembling and breaking just as fast.

They’re losing.

They’ve never lost like this.

Not like this, where it feels like they deserve it.

You’re still in the ruins, clutching your head, listening to ghosts.

"She’s not one of us anymore." "She left." "You were the traitor." "We were wrong." "We were wrong."

"We were wrong."

You blink hard.

They're still fighting.

They're losing.

Because of you.

You rise.

You shouldn’t. You don’t owe them anything. You told yourself that over and over. Built a whole new life around it.

But seeing them bleed, fall, break apart, something inside you won’t let you stay still.

Even after everything.

Even after they didn’t.

You run through the burning alleys, pushing past fallen stone and crying civilians. Your blade is heavy in your hand, your body is slower than it used to be, but your heart is beating with something again.

You see Luffy hit the ground a second time.

You see a blade fly for Nami’s back while she tries to shield Chopper.

You don’t think.

You move.

Your sword blocks it. Sparks fly.

“Get away from her” you growl.

Everyone freezes.

"Y/N...?" Nami whispers, eyes wide.

You stand between them and the enemy, panting, blade up “I’m not here to fight you anymore.”

The enemy soldiers pause, confused.

You glance back at the crew “You guys still suck at watching each other’s backs.”

“…Sunshine?” Sanji breathes, like he’s scared the name will make you vanish again.

You smirk weakly, turning back toward the enemy “Don’t get used to it.”

Then you charge.

Luffy is the first to move after you “HEY! THAT’S OUR IDIOT!”

Zoro grins through blood “Still crazy, huh?”

Nami laughs, even as tears fill her eyes “She came back…”

“Let’s go get her back for real” Robin says, voice like steel.

"Now we’re talkin’, super-style!” Franky shouts, getting to his feet.

Chopper wipes his tears “You’re still our sunshine!”

They all surge forward again, stronger, together, because you’re there.

Because you're home.

After the last of the enemy falls, you collapse on your knees, breathing hard. Ash clings to your skin, and your arms are shaking.

Luffy walks up slowly, holding out a hand.

You look up at him.

"Still want me?" you ask quietly, voice breaking.

Luffy nods, smiling just a little, just enough.

“Always.”

You take his hand.

And this time, you stay. Or at least that's your plan.

The flames have died down. The enemy is running. The people are cheering.

But the war isn’t over.

Because the commander hasn’t fallen yet.

And he’s aiming right for Sanji.

He’s too slow this time. Too injured. Too distracted by you, by the way you laughed earlier, helped Nami, the way your eyes softened when you called him to help you when you got surrounded “Curlybrow!”

He looked at you like he wanted to say something.

He never got the chance.

“SANJI, LOOK OUT!”

You see the blade flash. You see him twist too late.

You move.

Faster than you thought possible. Faster than fear, faster than pain.

You throw yourself in front of him.

You feel the cold stab of steel through your side.

Then through your chest.

Everything stops.

"Y/N—!!!"

Your knees hit the ground. You smile, eyes wide with shock and tears “I'm still fast… huh?”

You fall.

Sanji catches you.

“No, no, no—” His voice breaks instantly, arms shaking as he lowers you down “No! What the hell did you do?!”

“…Guess I owed you guys something big.”

Zoro takes the enemy out for good.

“You idiot!” Sanji shouts at you “You absolute...! Why?!”

You laugh, a cough mixed in “You were the only one who didn’t look at me like a traitor after it happened… You never doubted me, did you? That helped me... So I figured, this time, I’d be the one to help you.”

Sanji’s breath hitches “Don’t say stuff like that. You don’t—you don’t get to do this! Not after you just came back!”

You look past him. Luffy is yelling your name. Nami is sobbing, gripping her staff like it’s all she has left.

Zoro clenches his jaw, his sword sheathed. He already knows.

Robin’s hand covers her mouth.

Even the others can’t move.

You smile at all of them.

You shine, even as your blood soaks the stone.

“I missed you guys… so much.”

Sanji holds you close, forehead against yours.

“We never stopped looking for you” he whispers, tears streaming down his face.

You smile faintly.

“I know. I was the one too scared to face you again.”

The sky is clear now.

No smoke.

No fire.

Just the warmth of the sun rising on the horizon.

Your fingers twitch toward it.

“I'm happy now…”

And then, you go still.

No one says a word.

The Strawhats stand together, for once not in victory, but in grief.

The battlefield is silent.

Because their sunshine is gone for real now.

But the light you left behind burns in all of them now.

[unfinishedjulyrain]

👀 Hana in nachims shirt pls ❤️

send “👀” to find my muse wearing nothing but an oversized shirt.・❥・@mournus ( closed ! )

This was probably one of many times that Hana put on one of his shirts, one of many times she was also wearing nothing underneath but tonight, it left little to no room for imagination ( well, was that really a big deal when Nachim already knew most of her body by memory alone? ). Black fabric yet see through enough to notice right away the mermaid was bare, no underwear to conceal perky buds nor the woman's center. "Good evening, Captain," she purred with her arms wraped around him for a greeting before Hana took a step away, allowing his eyes to wander. "Should I keep this on tonight or do you want to tear it off? Though, I like this one pretty much... I put it on earlier because..." And there she paused, biting her lip as long eyelashes fluttered open, their intense gazes locked. "...I missed you." The rest was for him to put together, after all, Nachim was the reason she got rid off her own clothes in the first place.

[haikyu-mp4]

Inexperienced loverboy – Kita x reader wc 749 – f!reader, brother!Suna

Kita should have known Suna would find out at some point. The boy was observant, had sharp eyes and documented everything. So no, the picture Kita was sent of himself talking to you, rolling on his heels and blushing, should not have surprised him.

He stared at the picture, leaning on the door to his locker, heart beating loudly at the simple message from his underclassman under the photo: I see u, loverboy.

Suddenly, your voice cut through the silence. “Kita?”

Kita gasped loudly and clutched his pearls, as they say, not minding the way his phone slipped from his hands and landed on his foot before sliding on the floor. You were sneaky as a fox, just like your brother.

He squatted awkwardly to pick up the phone just as you did the same, making you lightly bump heads. Kita clutched the impact area and snatched up his phone, locking it so you wouldn’t see the incriminating photo.

“My apologies, y/n. My mind was elsewhere.”

You giggled, fixing your hair as you stood up straight. “That’s okay! Your phone didn’t break, did it?”

Kita waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Were you just passing by?”

And as if the horrors were not persistent enough, he looked over your shoulder and found Suna’s head peeking out from the end of the hallway, making his heart rate spike again. He didn’t even catch your answer, looking back down only to find your expectant gaze.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Your shoulders seemed to sink, a disappointed air enveloping you at his disinterest, which is what it looked like to you. Looking to the side, you cleared your throat and shook your head. “Nothing, I was just saying hi. See you around.”

And Kita watched hopelessly, whole body turning around so his eyes could follow you as you continued down the hallway but not uttering a single word that might salvage the situation.

Kita felt Suna creeping up on his side and sighed. “That’s cold, Mr Freeze.”

“Suna, would you prefer I distance myself from your sister?” he asked, happy that he still had some dignity when talking to his teammate.

“Nah,” the second year said with a noncommittal shrug. “Think she likes you back.”

Kita glanced at him, hoping he didn’t look too hopeful. He wanted to retain some sense of authority despite his obvious pining for a first-year. “That makes me glad.”

“But she’s still my little sister. I’ve got my eye on you.”

Kita watched as another Suna family member walked away from him down the hall, his heart beating the same irregular beat.

“Y/n!” you heard, followed by heavy steps as someone approached you. It would have been slightly frightening had you not recognised that soft voice.

“Kita,” you acknowledged. Your books were clutched to your chest and you tilted your head curiously. Despite his disinterest in you earlier, your crush on the volleyball captain insisted you give it a chance. “Don’t you have practice now?”

“I do, you’re right.” Kita took a moment to smile at how you knew their schedule by heart. “I just needed to ask you something first.”

You visibly perked up, blinking at him in question, hands clammy at the everlasting hope that he would give you a hint of interest. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

Kita had to take a calming breath as he felt your analytical gaze on him, hypnotising and reminding him of your family name. “Would you let me- no.” His brows furrowed in confusion at his own hesitation. “If you want to- no, that’s worse.”

Biting the inside of your lip, your gaze sharpened even further. Kita had to look away, lest his heart leap from his chest. Asking someone out was not something he practised every day, and he felt very out of his element.

Cue your brother sneaking around the corner, holding up his phone, which flashed with huge red letters: Can I take you out on a date?

“Can I take you out on a date?” Kita read, looking back at you with his lips pursed. “Please.”

You jumped slightly in place, giggles preceding your answer. “Of course!”

Kita’s lungs finally gave way to new oxygen and he nodded with a relieved grin. “Yeah? Great! Okay, I need to head to practice, but tomorrow?”

“You got it!”

Suna sent him a thumbs up before jogging away from you two, shaking his head with a smirk.

You owe him now.

masterlist

requested by @dogdolor for my event, anything for you <3

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

sorry for back-to-back requests. i very much like the way you write.

I was wondering if you could do a one-shot where y/n replaces peggy’s place in Steve’s story as Captain America, and he goes back for her in endgame. and perhaps she was pregnant at the end of the war. sorry for all this.

Well Deserved Family Life » Steve Rogers/Captain America

Pairings: Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife/Pregnant!Reader with Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier, Sam Wilson/Falcon, and Bruce Banner/Hulk

Summary: After Steve takes the infinity stones back where they belong, he goes back to you and gets that family life he deserves.

Warnings: Fluff, language, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers 🩵

A/N #2: Bold text is letter to Bucky.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

After the war with Thanos and Tony’s funeral, the infinity stones needed to be taken back where they originally were. Steve decided to do that. As Bruce was getting everything ready for Steve to return the stones, he stood next to Bucky.

“Do you miss her?” Bucky asks, referring to you.

“Yes.” Steve answers softly. “I remember the day you introduced me to her.” He smiles.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so speechless.” He chuckles.

Steve chuckles and smiles at the memory of the day he met you.

“It’s ready, Cap.” Bruce says.

Steve nods. Before getting on the platform, he gave Bucky a hug. Bucky knew what that hug meant. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know.

“You’re going to go back to Y/N, aren’t you?” Bucky asks.

“I am.” Steve says.

Although, Bucky doesn’t want to live in a world where his best friend isn’t in it, he wants him to be happy.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Bucky whispers.

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Steve whispers back.

Steve sighs as he pulls away from the hug. He walked over to the platform, stopping just short of the steps to get on it. He turned around to look at his best friend.

“Don’t do anything stupid till I get back.” Steve says with a smile.

“How can I? You’re taking all of the stupid with you.” Bucky smiles back. “Give Y/N a hug for me.” He says.

“I will.” He says.

Steve gets on the platform. Bruce counted down before sending him to where the infinity stones needed to be returned to.

“Shouldn’t he be back by now?” Sam asks Bruce.

“He should be.” Bruce looks at the computer. “It looks like he went further than he should’ve.” He says.

“What year did he go to?” Bucky asks curiously.

“1949.” Bruce tells him.

Bucky nods and looks down.

“You ok, man?” Sam asks Bucky, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I will be.” Bucky says softly.

1949

Steve had a smile on his face as he held you close to him. You two were swaying to music in the middle of the living room. You glanced up at your husband with a smile. Steve looks down at you and kisses you softly.

Steve found his way back to you. You and him bought a house, got married, and you two have a baby on the way. This is the happiness and the family life he has been putting off for years.

Your feet started to hurt from swaying so you sat down on the couch. Steve sat down next to you, wrapping one arm around you and put his free hand on your pregnant belly. You laid your head on his shoulder. The music continued to play.

“Are you going to miss being Captain America?” You asked.

“Yes, but I’m sure Sam will be just as good as I was.” Steve says.

Steve gave you a tight hug, making you smile.

“What’s that for?” You asked with a smile.

“That’s from Bucky.” He says.

“Bucky remembers me?” You asked.

“Of course he does. He was the one who introduced us.” He says with a smile.

You smiled at the memory. You were a nurse in the Army when Bucky introduced you to Steve. You were admiring how handsome Steve was -he still is- and Steve was completely speechless.

“I’m happy that he introduced us.” You say.

“Me too.” Steve smiles.

“I miss him.” You say softly, putting your hand on top of Steve’s.

“I do too.” He whispers, kissing the side of your head.

PRESENT DAY

Bucky looked out in the distance, furrowing his eyebrows when he seen someone sitting on a bench and looking out at the water. He immediately knew that person was Steve.

“Sam…” Bucky says.

Sam looks at Bucky and then looked over at the water, seeing Steve. He walked up next to Bucky.

“Go ahead.” He says.

Sam nods and walks over to Steve.

“You decided to go further back after returning the stones, huh?” Sam says, standing next to Steve.

“Yes.” Steve smiles.

Sam seen a wedding ring on Steve’s finger.

“Wanna tell me about her?” He asks.

“I’ll let Bucky tell you.” Steve smiles.

Steve reaches down to unzip the bag his shield is in. He took it out of the bag and handed it to Sam.

“Are you sure?” Sam asks softly.

Steve nods. Sam took it from him and held it up.

“How’s it feel?” Steve asks.

“Like it belongs to someone else.” Sam says, looking at the shield.

Steve reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to Sam.

“Give this to Bucky for me please.” Steve says softly.

“Of course, man.” Sam says softly.

Steve and Sam gave each other a smile before he walked back to Bucky.

“He gave you the shield?” Bucky asks.

“Yes. He also told me to give this to you.” Sam says, handing him the envelope.

Bucky took his hands out of his pockets and took the envelope from Sam. He opened it to see a hand written letter from Steve, along with a family picture of you, Steve, and yours and his daughter Sarah.

Dear Bucky,

As you know, I went back to be with Y/N. I hope you can be happy with the decision I made. Thank you for introducing me to Y/N when we were in the Army. The little girl in the picture is mine and Y/N’s daughter Sarah Jamie Rogers. We gave her the middle name of the man who introduced her parents. I love you, man. I’m going to miss you.

Sincerely, Steve

Bucky teared up while reading the letter. He then looked at the picture, smiling when he seen how happy Steve is now and when he seen you and Sarah in the picture. He’s happy that his best friend got the well deserved family life he’s been looking for all these years.

“Who are those people with Steve in the picture?” Sam asks.

“His wife Y/N and their daughter Sarah Jamie Rogers.” Bucky says.

Sam smiles, happy that Steve got his happy ending.

“Their daughter looks just like him.” Sam says with a smile.

“She does.” Bucky smiles.

1949

“Did you feel that?” You asked when the baby kicked.

“Yes!” Steve says happily.

You looked at your husband with a smile on your face. You leaned up kissing him sweetly.

“I can’t wait for this baby to be born.” He says softly.

“Me too.” You smiled. “I love you, honey.” You murmured, pecking his lips.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He almost whispers.

Steve got the well deserved family he’s been wanting for years. He couldn’t be any more happier.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

-Bucky’s Doll

[kissitbttr]

nobody understands how you did it.

how you managed to swept him off his feet, breaking the walls he had built pieces by pieces, how the fuck did you get him to be comfortable with you? to be open with you? and only with you.

‘never seen him this happy or loose in a long time, lass. what’s your trick, eh?’ the captain pulls a joke, making the rest of the team laugh. ‘i think I speak for everyone when i say, he never brings a girl out. let alone introducing her to us.’

that one is true. years of being friends with ghost, the captain nor his closest friend ‘soap’ has ever seen him out on a date. they encouraged him though, since there have been so many women tried their ways to get close with the big guy, yet none of them succeed.

the masked men would often just shrug them off and give one hard cold answer. they would back away immediately

“guess i just have my ways” is what you always say. even soap couldn’t register how it happened. he couldn’t figure it out himself, he knows the lad way longer than you do.

they don’t believe you. because there is no way in hell that all you did was to bat your lashes, show him your adorable giggle and he was in. there’s gotta be more to it.

so what is it about you that draws him close? what is it about you that makes ghost’s eyes light up each time you step into the room? what is it about you that makes ghost’s heart skip a beat every time he talks to you?

certainly not because how you’re so patient in getting to know with him, right? not because how you trace his scars ever so lightly and call them pretty every single time he’s doubtful about himself. not because how you console him with ‘I’ve got you, baby’ each night a nightmare comes back to haunt him while rubbing his back soothingly. not because how you shower him with soft, gentle kisses to remind him that your love for him is bigger than anyone could have offered. not because how you understand why he can’t say the three letter words to you, just yet. still, you stick around.

definitely not, right? there’s no way. he’s simon ghost riley. no one or nothing could ever be good enough to make this man come out of his shell. it’s impossible, right? you’ll need a miracle for that.

“love?” you hear a voice calls, along with the sound of keys being tossed into a ceramic bowl. heavy boots thumping against the marble floor,

you step out of the kitchen. long hair tied up into a messy updo, clear frame glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. dressed in one of his favorite sleeping gown as your eyes locked with his brown ones. the balaclava still attached to mask his handsome face.

scarred lips stretch into a smile the moment his beautiful fiancé emerges from the kitchen.

he drops his bag onto the floor, pulling the mask off of him slowly. revealing his disheveled blond hair as he takes slow steps towards you.

“hi, baby” your voice brings him home. no soul could ever take away from him. he longs for that angelic tone each time he gets deployed. three or six months without listening to you speak to him is just insanity.

he’d rather lose his hearing entirely than not having to hear you at all.

he’s quick to embrace you in his arms. your face hiding in the crook of his neck, inhaling that signature scent of his that you had missed, dearly.

“what are you making?” he mumbles into the crown of your hair, giving it a peck before pulling away slightly to take a good look at you. “it smells good”

“your favorite” you kiss his chin, causing his cheeks to redden at the affection. “i even bought those lumpias down the 112th street. i know how much you love them. pretzels bites from the deli for snacks aaand, black pepper beef with rice for your dinner. sounds good?”

simon leans against the doorway as he watches you plate everything. rambling about everything. his smile widens even more at your domestic antics. the way you talk with your hands as you mention another annoying co-worker that keeps bugging you and the way you roll your eyes when a splash of gravy spill from the plate.

truly is a sight.

“why are you looking at me like that?” your lips raise into a curious smile, finger moving a dark lock that sticks into your forehead,

he gives you a small shrug. gaze not leaving you neither does his smile.

“you’re just so beautiful”

something so simple yet it makes your stomach fills with butterflies.

you chew on your lower lip to prevent you from smiling too much, but a hint of blush is dusting your cheeks betrays you.

“come, papi… don’t want the food to get cold now, do we?” you change the subject while you nod your head towards the empty seat across. “eat with me”

the two of you sit there while making a small talk. stealing glances every second. feeding each other’s food. soft laughs fall upon both of your mouths when one make a terrible joke.

something you’d see when two people are in love. c

so yes, the answer to that question. it is possible. because you made it possible. you made it possible for him to love again. even if he had to start all over. you made it possible for him to be vulnerable. you gave him a purpose the moment he thought things were looking bad for him.

he found a solace within your existence.

only you made it possible to bring the simon in him.

vbecause you. are his home

[maskedbyghost]

Months away on a mission with no contact—no letters, no calls—left Simon feeling like a ghost returning to a world that had moved on without him. The base hummed with activity, soldiers moving about, but Simon’s eyes scanned the crowd for one person.

His wife.

But it was Captain Price who found him first, actually.

"Simon," Price called out, striding up to him. The older man’s face was hard to read, but there was a glint of something in his eyes—was it amusement? Relief? Simon couldn’t quite place it.

"Captain," Simon replied with a nod. "Where’s—"

Price didn’t even wait for him to finish. "She’s with the doctors," he said simply.

Simon froze. A thousand thoughts slammed into him at once. Doctors? His mind raced, each possibility worse than the last. Was she hurt? Sick? Had something happened while he was away? His heartbeat pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else. He didn’t even notice Price opening his mouth to elaborate; Simon was already moving.

He needed to see her. Now.

The corridors blurred as he moved, his long strides turning into a near run. Anxiety twisted in his chest, clawing at his ribs. Every door he passed was another obstacle between him and the truth. Images of her in pain, in danger, flooded his mind, and he pushed them away. He wouldn’t allow himself to think the worst—not yet. But the fear lingered.

When he reached the small clinic, his breath was ragged, his pulse pounding in his ears. A nurse pointed him toward the correct room, and Simon didn’t hesitate, pushing the door open.

And there she was.

She was lying on the examination bed, her face turned toward the screen displaying an ultrasound image. Her lips curled into a soft smile as she watched the tiny flickering heartbeat on the monitor. The sight of her, alive and unhurt, sent a wave of relief crashing through him so strong he had to grip the doorframe to steady himself. But then his eyes dropped lower, to the curve of her stomach, unmistakable now beneath the thin fabric of her shirt.

His breath hitched.

She turned her head at the sound of the door, her eyes meeting his. For a moment, neither of them moved. Her expression shifted from surprise to warmth, and her voice was soft. "Si?"

Simon didn’t answer immediately. He couldn’t. He was frozen, his gaze locked on her, on the life she was carrying. His mind struggled to catch up, to process the truth in front of him. Relief, awe, guilt, and joy swirled together in a storm of emotions so intense it left him rooted to the spot.

The doctor cleared their throat, drawing both of their gazes. "I’ll give you two a moment," they said gently, gathering their notes and stepping out of the room. The door clicked softly shut behind them, leaving Simon and his wife alone.

"Simon," she said again, her voice trembling now, her eyes searching his face. "Say something."

He blinked, as if her words had finally broken the spell. Slowly, he stepped toward her. He sank to his knees beside the bed, his gloved hands hovering over her stomach like he was afraid to touch, afraid it wasn’t real.

"You’re..." His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard, trying again. "You’re pregnant?"

She nodded, tears shining in her eyes. "I wanted to tell you, but you were gone, and there was no way to reach you..."

He shook his head quickly. "No, love. Don’t apologize. Don’t—" His voice broke again, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her belly. His gloved hands finally settled gently on either side of her stomach, trembling. "I should’ve been here."

Her fingers found their way to his hair, threading through the strands in a comforting gesture. "You’re here now, Si. That’s what matters."

He pulled back just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to her stomach, his eyes squeezed shut as tears escaped down his cheeks. "I’m sorry," he whispered against her skin. "For leaving, for not knowing... God, I love you. Both of you."

Her hand cupped his cheek, tilting his face up so their eyes met. "We love you too," she said, her smile full of warmth. "So much."

Simon nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He rested his head against her stomach again, listening to the faint, steady heartbeat on the monitor. For the first time in months, the weight on his chest began to lift. This was home. This was everything he had been fighting for.

And he wasn’t going to let it slip away.

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

don't mind me, just cleaning my drafts.

@daydreamerwoah