#like he doesn’t even take the captains seat to try and crash the ship

[dykedvonte]

Its really interesting that Jimmy’s chair is the one tilted away from the screen in this shot:

It’s indicative of how his and Jimmy’s dynamic was. He’s not staring ahead at the screen, he’s not paying attention to what they are doing. Curly is the only one looking forward. Jimmy quite literally couldn’t see the responsibility Curly had or was doing. Jimmy likely slacked off and avoided most of his duties. I mean the one time we know he pilots the Tulpar he steers it wrong and loses the team 4000 credits. Even in the positions they held objectively, Curly was always taking responsibility for Jimmy. Not to mention the “We can fix this” and only one chair at attention. Jimmy never had intentions to fix anything, throughout the game, throughout his entire relationship with Curly. Curly always fixed it? Why would it be any different here?

If he even took the slightest bit of responsibility, he would’ve stayed in the cockpit to see his plan through. In the end Curly did what Jimmy always expected him to do for him and took responsibility. Did what he always did and took responsibility at the wrong time…

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: after comforting Daisuke a bit, you help Anya with Curly's medication. she tells you about the abuse she's faced on the ship, and you find yourself confronting her abuser.

tw: implications of rape, implications of abuse, graphic depictions of violence, death, murder, pure angst, dead dove: do not eat.

a/n: would you believe me if I said this series was just meant to be a fluffy one/two shot?

wc: 1.5k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

You could only watch on in disappointment. Daisuke laid on the grated ground, arm thrown over  his face and mouthwash in the other. Walking over, you crouched next to his form, feeling sympathy for his situation. It’s been two months since the cargo hold was opened, and you were honestly proud at how resilient Daisuke had been against his mentor’s persistent badgering to get him to join him for a drink. 

With a short sigh, you softly muttered, “You look like shit.”

“You were right,” Daisuke groaned. “How does Swansea do it? I feel like my stomach is going to explode.”

“An alcoholic doesn’t drink to feel good,” You murmured, gently brushing some of his hair out of his face. “They do it to escape from their problems, but it just adds more to the pile.”

“How’re you so smart?” Daisuke grumbled, uncovering his eyes and tilting his head to try and look at you. “Aren’t we around the same age?”

Chuckling softly you shook your head in amusement, “Yeah, we are around the same age. I just have more experience in this area.”

“You were an alcoholic?” Daisuke exclaimed, sitting up quickly only to clutch his stomach with a groan. 

You snorted at his reaction, “No, but I have first hand experience with what it does to a person.”

“Oh,” Daisuke laid back down, trying to even his breathing to quell the nausea. “Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for,” You sighed, fully taking a seat next to him and sitting cross legged.

“But you were so adamant on me not drinking this stuff, and I did it anyway,” Tears pricked at his eyes, clearly a bit tipsy. “Is that why you flinch when someone gets angry?” 

Your eyes widened at his question, gaze averting from his figure, you ignored it, changing the topic, “I understand why you did it, it’s hard to say no to an authority figure, and you were probably curious too. It happens, as long as you don’t make it a habit it’s fine.”

“I’m never looking at mouthwash ever again,” Daisuke grumbled. 

…

You nearly messed up your task, flinching back at Curly’s muffled groans of pain. It had been four months since the crash all together, and this was your first time administering the Captain his pain meds. You didn’t realize how terrible it was, and you couldn’t imagine the pain he was feeling. But you stayed strong, holding his jaw closed so he wouldn’t spit the pills back up. Once you heard him swallow, you pulled your hands back, feeling guilty as he stared at you. No wonder Anya had resorted to asking either you or Jimmy to administer them instead, you weren’t sure how she had managed to do this for so long without breaking-

It’s like you willed it to fruition, the sound of sniffles coming from behind you. Turning around, you watched in abject horror as Anya slid down to the ground, curling in a ball, arms around her legs and head tucked in her knees. The image felt wrong. This was Anya, strong willed, enthusiastic, competitive, encouraging and kind…is this how Daisuke felt when watching Swansea turn into a shell of his former self?

“It’s all my fault,” Anya sobbed, a hand going up to clutch at her hair. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

You frowned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Taking a seat next to her you slowly raised a hand and rubbed her back, “What are you talking about?” She tensed under your touch, both hands now pulling at her hair, and she shook her head. 

“I’m sorry,” You murmured, pulling your hand back. “You don’t have to explain-”

“I’m pregnant,” Anya whispers, brown eyes peeking over her knees to look at you, eyes red and watery. “It’s Jimmy’s. I told Curly, but nothing happened, so then I told Jimmy and…and th-that was r-right before the crash…” You felt your stomach drop, eyes widening at the implication. 

“W-was it too much for Curly to handle?” Anya asked, voice wavering as tears continued to stream down her eyes. “Is that why he crashed the ship? If o-only there were locks on the doors…if only I kept it to myself…”

“Wait what?” You paused, voice turning icy cold. You took in a deep breath, trying to quench the unbridled anger that suddenly flooded through you, this wasn’t the time or place to be angry, Anya needed comfort. “Anya, none of this is your fault. You had every right to seek help from the captain. If anything, this is Jimmy’s fault, why the hell would he-” You cut yourself off before you could rant, closing your eyes and continuing in a softer tone. “The company failed you, failed us. None of this falls on your shoulders.”

Anya leaned over and rested her head on your shoulder, gaze rising to Curly who could only watch on in silence, allowing herself to find just a moment of respite. Once again, you reached out and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arm in a placating manner. This time she relaxed in your hold, tears falling on your shoulder. You couldn’t just ignore this, couldn’t ignore the fact that Jimmy had abused not just your mentor, but friend. Who the hell did he think he was, walking around pretending to be captain knowing he did horrendous actions? Probably justified it like the asshole he was. God, you weren’t gonna let him get away that fucking easily. If Curly didn’t have the balls to help, you sure as hell were.

…

“The hell’s your problem?” Jimmy sneered at you. “You’ve become a real fuckin’ bitch, being nothing but a thorn in my side. You get off on making everyone suffer?”

“Hahaha!” You laughed maniacally, replying with a mocking grin. “That’s real fucking funny coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Jimmy glared, that icy heat behind his eyes intensifying, but you couldn’t find it in you to cower anymore, feeling nothing but absolute fury in his presence. 

“I think you know,” You growled, face morphing into a scowl. “I should beat the shit out of you for what you did.”

Jimmy’s face darkened, but didn’t make any sign to fight against your claim. That made you angrier, he knew. He knew what he did was wrong, he just didn’t care. You felt like you were vibrating, the absolute fury rushing through your veins.

“I won’t tolerate insubordination,” He glowered. “I’m the captain whether you like it or not-”

CRACK

A rush of adrenaline flowed through you, heart pumping faster. Jimmy held his nose, pulling his hand away to find blood dripping down. Your hands were shaking, and without thinking, you threw another punch, landing right on his eye, causing him to curse out. 

“You absolute, utter piece of shit,” You swore, kicking him as hard as you could where it really hurts. You watched on in satisfaction as the middle aged man fell onto his knees, eyes squeezed shut in pain. “You know what, that’s actually insulting shit, at least shit has a use.” 

You were about to send one more kick to his side for good measure, really wanting him to feel just an ounce of the pain he put Anya through, but you were thrown off balance when he grabbed your leg mid lift. He pulled your leg towards him, causing you to wobble and fall backwards onto your back. You barely registered the pain, adrenaline diluting your senses. You barely had any time to think before Jimmy was straddling you, hands around your throat squeezing as hard as he could. 

Eyes widening, you felt yourself panic, body automatically trying to suck in a breath but failing. You tried to wiggle, to kick your legs and knock him off of you, but he was stronger, watching you struggle with an evil glint in his dark eyes. You began to claw at him instead, trying to pull his hands away, to try to claw at any weak spot you could find. Your lungs were burning, tears falling down your eyes at the dull pain in your throat. You tried to reach his eyes, maybe poke one out to get his grip to loosen, but your hands were shaking and it felt like you were holding up a ton of bricks. 

As you lay there, oxygen depleting from your system, you humorlessly realized you were going to die to this monster. You could barely make out Jimmy anymore, the world spinning too fast and turning dark at the same time, body going limp. Did this really have to be your last view before passing on? You felt guilty as well, you were leaving Anya and Daisuke behind, you wish you weren’t so selfish. Ashamed that you prioritized your anger and lashed out instead of going about the situation rationally. You just hoped they didn’t blame themselves, that by some miracle they could be saved.

And just like that, your consciousness vanishes, leaving behind your body that lays limp under the hands of an abuser.

[thinkingofausername]

Ah yes what I should do instead of sleeping— but this is a response to ur latest post that made me remembered some things

We can see that Anya was not afraid of Jimmy (both before and after the assault) how she confronted Jimmy alone, far from everyone but after the crash she’s more meek, jumpy

I think the reason why is because of Curly, bc of his status above Jimmy and gave her reassurance bc of anything escalates Curly can diffuse it—again bc he’s the captain, and also why she was hiding behind his seat in the cockpit.

While I don’t like the idea that she’s all damsel in distress, but with curly holding the most power, and how she sees curly as a friend; it gave her some sense of stability and he’ll help her (we saw how that turned out)

Then after the crash, and curly lost his status, Jimmy gained the status; any confidence left in her is shattered bc now her abuser holds the most power, the gun, the axe. At that point, it doesn’t matter if her true personality is a confident woman anymore bc her abuser has access to the gun, the passcodes. No wonder she had gone meek. There’s no others left in her corner anymore. Of course she’d be afraid 😭

— 🐚

I'd honestly love for someone to analyze Anya in depth, factually, cause she's been driving me crazy

I can't say anything against her cause she's the fan favorite and she's been turned into a saint but I'm really struggling to figure her out

99% of what I've seen to be the reason why fans love her so much is that she's a woman who suffered and had a tragic end and although I respect that and love for women is always needed (fictional or not) and to each their own I, for the current lack of better words, need more. She's tragic but what else

However hard I try to define her all I see are contrasts - she's brave (she confronts Jimmy on her own) but she takes no action to defend herself. She's resilient (keeps Curly alive and herself composed with her abuser on the ship) but is the first to go, by her own hand no less. She's responsible (took care of Curly) but she let Jimmy give him pills (enabling Jimmy's abuse of Curly) and she wouldn't do Jimmy's eval and she kills herself with Curly's pills, in front of him no less. She hid the gun from Jimmy so he wouldn't get it but she didn't use it herself. She asked Curly for help but confronted Jimmy alone even though she and Curly were supposed to do it together. She knew what Jimmy was like and how unstable he was and she still cornered him (unintentionally causing the crash). She has to have a different personality from what Jimmy sees cause he's her abuser and Curly sees her differently but we know that Curly's perspective on things isn't accurate or detailed. She isn't quite weak and she isn't quite strong (don't attack me, I'm just going with the facts, she couldn't complete her tasks and she couldn't defend herself and she died first) so at the end of the day I can't for the life of me figure her out

If anyone has enough Mouthwashing brainrot and energy to add to this or deconstruct this I'd be really glad to read it cause I've hit a dead end here

[glitchyfrills]

Waves of Life

(Ao3 Readers Click Here)

(((GlitchNote: This is set in the same AU/World of 🎶Dudududu🎶 so if you haven’t read that and you want to there’s the link for you. AND I also have the like to the Ao3 Version. Enjoy!)))

Bad looked out at the water watching the water move. “We should have sent Sam with them,” he said in a worried tone as he turned to look back at Puffy. She was looking at the blueprints Sam had brought up for her to review.

“You know Sam was needed onboard,” she reminded Bad. “Besides, Foolish is with them.”

“Oh yes,” Bad sighed dramatically. “Such a relief. Your two boys together never create chaos.”

“Hey!” Puffy put the blueprint she hand in her hand down on the table in front of her. “You’ve had one too many muffins if you think your fire starter doesn’t add to the chaos.”

Bad lifted a finger and opened his mouth to protest but the words died on his tongue as he realized that he couldn’t counter Puffy’s statement.

Puffy stared at Bad as she picked the blueprints back up and fluttered the paper between her two hands. “That’s what I thought,” she huffed as she returned to looking over what Sam had altered.

Sighing, Bad looked out towards the water for a moment longer then walked towards the table Puffy was using. There weren’t many chairs onboard so they used barrels and crates to sit. He found one near enough to chat with Puffy.

There was a moment of silence. The only sound heard were the waves crashing against the ship and the cawing of the seagulls flying above them.

“Do you remember life before?” Bad asked abruptly, taking Puffy by surprise.

She looked at him confused. With an eyebrow raised she asked for clarification, “Before?”

“Before they showed up?”

Puffy smiled as she rounded the table to take a seat on the barrel across from Bad. She shrugged off her coat and laid it on top of the papers on the table. Taking a seat on the barrel she sighed, “I don’t remember much before waking up on the server I met you on. I do have flashes once in a while but nothing significant.”

Bad hummed and nodded his head. Adjusting to try and get comfortable while sitting on a barrel he laughed softly as his gaze broke from Puffy’s to look down at the deck of the ship. “My memories are faint too. But I know that the lives I had before were… different.” He lifts his eyes back up and Puffy is watching him still with a smile on her face and in her eyes. The smile is comforting and makes him feel safe to speak truthfully. “Harder.”

Puffy nods in agreement. Bad knew some of Puffy’s past. They had spoken one or twice in depth of how their lives were very different in the past in comparison to the ones they live now.

“One thing that I hope never fades is finding them,” Puffy says sweetly. “Dream following me around silently was terrifying at first but after realizing he just wanted someone to be around…,” she paused as if he mind teleported herself back to that moment. The smile on her face grew wider and brighter. She shook her head and laughed. “Then Foolish. Oh he had such a rough start.”

Bad couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “You can say that again. Ponk really did a number on him.”

Puffy rolled her eyes but joined Bad in laughing. “But that didn’t stop him. He created such a magnificent space for himself. Which you couldn’t help yourself but to explore and push the poor guy so close to insanity.” The look she gave Bad was sturne but had no fierceness.

“He made it too inviting, how could I resist?” He laughed as Puffy rolled her eyes.

“He did get even with you,” she reminded him.

His laughing stopped and a look of denial appeared on his face. “I let him do that,” he pouted.

“Do what,” Sam asked as he closed the door of Puffy’s Captains Quarters behind hom; walking up to the table and placing new maps on the table.

Puffy shrugged as she explained how they were recalling memories of their boys. Sam nodded but his focus stayed on the papers on the table. Puffy looked at Bad and back at Sam. Bad noticed what Puffy seemed to notice.

“How are things with George, Sam,” Bad asked cautiously.

The question hung in the air for a moment. The moment was long enough that Bad assumed Sam hadn’t heard his words.

“Sam,” Puffy was about to repeat Bad’s question but he finally looked up at the table at them with a tiered smile.

“Fine,” he sighed loudly and somewhat annoyed. “Things are… fine.” The words he said seemed to be trying to convince himself they were true. Sam picked up a map. The look on his face was emotionless but to anyone who knew him they could easily tell he was putting up a front.

“You know it’s okay if things are not ‘fine’,” Bad pointed out.

Puffy nodded in agreement. “Things haven��t been easy since we started traveling servers.”

Sam still hadn’t looked up but his shoulders relaxed. “He slept so much.” He paused for a long while trying to find the words to best explain what he was trying to convey. Puffy and Bad stayed quiet and watched as their friend searched for the words. Sam finally looked up to meet their eyes. “He won’t talk about it. Sometimes I think he wants to and I ask but he shuts me out.” He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “I never wanted him to move out. That was his decision,” anger was starting to rise as the words left his mouth and memories of the past were rushed in his mind. “He was safe in the home I built in the mountain. Only a few people knew it was there! Even Sapnap lived there! They were both safe there.”

He hadn’t noticed but Puffy had gotten up from where she sat to stand beside Sam. The anger rising within him relaxed a bit when he felt a gentle touch. Puffy had placed her hand on top of his fist that had formed crumpling a few maps. Taking a deep breath he released the papers and stepped away from the table.

“They were going to do what they wanted.” Puffy scoffed as she continued, “They still do what they want.”

“That they do,” Bad said from where he sat. “Maybe the lack of talking is from the amnesia?”

Sam looked at Bad puzzled. He realized that he had only spoken about this with Puffy. “Puffy and I think that a few of the members of our group have amnesia when it comes to certain parts of their lives on different servers.”

“It seems to be the only logical explanation,” Puffy shrugged as Sam turned to her for further explanation. “Pieces of what we know seems to be missing from their memories.”

“Dream doesn’t remember the…,” Sam’s words fell; unable to finish the sentence.

Puffy shook her head ‘no’ and under her breath she softly said, “Foolish has a few more memories of the past than what Dream has but he’s come to terms with them.”

“He’s had memories of the past lives he had before meeting us,” Bad mentioned.

“Yes and like I said he’s made peace with it all. Made peace with how Dream was and how he is now.” Puffy’s voice shook with emotion and looked towards her two friends, “I have both my boys and they are… content.”

Sam sighed, shoulders sagging, “Must be nice.”

“George will be fine,” said Bad as he rose from where he sat. Sam looking at Bad as he walked to stand beside him. Bad gently placed his hand on his friend's shoulders as he made eye contact and added, “as long as you are there for him when he’s not.”

Words stuck in his throat Sam just nodded as he broke eye contact with Bad.

“You are wasting arrows!”

Dream’s voice caught Puffy’s attention. Hurrying to the side of the ship she saw Dream and George in one boat and Sapnap in an other. George was raining arrows playfully missing Sapnap as Dream rowed them.

Puffy smiled as she watched them for a moment before noticing that Foolish was nowhere to be seen. Cupping her hands around her mouth she whistled loudly.

Startled, George let an arrow fly and found its target on the side of Sapnap’s boat.

Sapnap wanted to fight about it but Dream hushed him and looked up towards Puffy.

“Where’s Foolish,” she called out.

Loudly George answered her before Dream could, “He and Tina went off to play pirates!”

“Yeah,” Sapnap shouted from his boat, “and Antfrost and RedVelvet went to ‘observe’.” He laughed and even from the ship Bad, Sam, and Puffy could see him rolling his eyes. “We all know what that means.”

“Let them be, son!” Bad called out. “They both have been hopping servers a lot lately. They deserve a little alone time together.”

Sapnap sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes as he rowed his boat close enough to the ship's rope ladder. Carefully he pulled himself onto it and climbed up.

Bad watched and waited to see if he would need help over the railing and onto the deck but Sapnap easily swung his legs over and in a swift and quick motion; with a loud thud he landed on the deck. Dream and George carefully following behind.

“You’ve been doing a bit of hopping yourself, Sapnap,” Puffy commented cheerfully.

“Yes he has,” Bad answered before Sapnap could, pride in his voice. “He’s made so many new friends, haven’t you, son?”

George and Dream didn’t even try to hold in their laughter. Puffy and Sam looked at their boys with stern looks but it had no effect. The laughter just grew louder.

“Dad,” Sapnap groaned, stomping over towards a barrel to sit down and pout.

Bad ignored the laughing and teasing; genuinely he smiled towards his son and continued his praises. Every comment Sapnap grew more and more red and begged for Bad to stop.

“I believe that his exposure to other communities and their skills has really been beneficial when it comes to teaching the hunters in training.”

“Different perspectives is something to appreciate,” Dream added, laughter fading from his voice. “Meeting and getting to know the people we have from different servers has been a wonderful experience.”

“Which is why we thought it would be a good idea to have them observe The Hunt the other day,” Puffy said matter-of-factly.

“Speaking of our guest,” Sam said as he retrieved cookies from his inventory, “you two get to meet up with them in a few days, correct?”

Sapnap took a cookie and chomped down as he answered excitedly, “Yup! Get to go and try to defend my title.”

“Don’t talk with your mouthful. You’re gonna choke,” said Bad as he took a cookie for himself. “But yes we leave in a few days.” He looked over at Puffy who nodded when he recalled that Foolish and Tina would also be joining them. “I’m excited. Hearing about it was thrilling. I look forward to actually experiencing it myself.”

Sapnap was excited to experience the event with Bad but he was a little disappointed that Dream and George weren’t coming along as well. It must have been noticeable on his face because Dream sauntered over and laid his arm over Sapnap’s shoulders. “Don’t be bummed we aren’t going with you. We’ll be waiting for you to get back. Win or lose.”

Dream began offering advice to Sapnap as he rolled his eyes and playfully shoved him away.

“I’m the campeón. I don’t need your lame advice.”

The two laughed and carried on.

Sam watched from where he stood, listening to their conversation when George tapped him on the shoulder.

In a quiet voice, not wanting anyone but Sam to hear, he asked, “Do you have any pumpkin pie?”

Taken aback at the request Sam took a moment too long to reply. “If you don't, it's fine.”

George started to reach for a cookie when Sam replied hurriedly, his words fumbling as they left his mouth, “Yes, yes! Pie. I have pumpkin pie.”

Puffy from the corner of her eye watched as Sam pulled a pumpkin pie from his inventory and placed it on the nearby table. She saw George’s small smile come and go as he took a piece and thanked Sam before walking over to Sapnap and Dream to join the conversation they were having with Bad.

Sam felt her eyes on him. He smiled as he gestured to her, offering her a piece of pumpkin pie. She silently and politely declined. As Sam took a piece and joined the others she saw some relief wash over him which in turn gave her some relief as well.

As she walked to the edge of the ship she couldn’t help but think of how things had panned out. Remembering vaguely on something’s and memories that were intact. Watching the still water waiting for it to move and bring Foolish and Tina back safely she breathed in and relaxed.

(((GlitchNote: Thank you so much for reading. I know I have been MIA. Things have been rocky to put it lightly. The world is such a mess and writing didn’t seem so important for a bit. But we need creativity! We do. We need moments where we can have fun and laugh even if it’s just for a moment. We need to be at our best for what’s to come. Hopefully you got a bit of joy from the story. Didn’t plan on it being a big series but here we are. Who knows what will come of this. Hope you come alone with me to find out! Love and light to you. Again thanks for reading. 💚🌙)))

[asirensrambles]

Escaping Blame

Shepard and Joker finally have a conversation about escaping from the original Normandy.

Ever since boarding the Normandy SR-2, Shepard had found herself spending more time in the cockpit's copilot chair than ever before.  Part of it was because Joker and Dr. Chakwas had been the only two people on board who weren't Cerberus, and she could trust.  Garrus was back on board now, but he had been distracted and consumed with whatever happened to his team.  Shepard was giving him space, hoping he could work through it and would reach out when he was ready. 

The bigger part of it, was that, just for a few minutes, she could almost forget it wasn't the original Normandy they were on.  For just a little bit, Shepard could lose herself in the fantasy that Pressley was just behind them plotting their next course, any moment Kaidan would ping her with something Alliance or crew related.

Except then EDI would pipe up and the illusion would shatter, bringing reality crashing down.  Even with the illusion gone, Joker was still there.  Still a steady northern star, dragging Shepard out of whatever gloom and shadow she found herself in.  Watching him work was...hypnotic.  The way his hands danced across the controls, pulling up and closing screens that Shepard could only guess to the function of, but Joker seemed to absorb in instants.  It was soothing in a way she couldn't explain, but relished nonetheless. 

However, there was a tension in him most days that hadn't been there on the original Normandy.  Some days were worse than others.  Shepard had a pretty good guess as to what was causing it, but hadn't asked yet.  Today though, she couldn't stand it any longer and broke the comfortable silence between them,

"Joker?"

"What's up?" he asked, eyes never straying from the screens, movements never slowing.

Swallowing hard, Shepard asked, "Could you have made it to an escape pod on your own when the original Normandy was hit?"

For the first time ever, Shepard saw what Joker looked like completely still.  It was unsettling, and for a very long moment, Shepard wanted to take it back.  Then Joker's whole frame slumped into his chair, utterly defeated.

"No," he whispered, so quietly she barely heard it.  Not wanting to miss anything he might say, and understanding that might be as loud as his voice could be, Shepard got up from the copilot's seat and walked over to lean against the console to Joker's right.  He still didn't look at her, but continued on,

"I didn't have my crutches nearby, and even if I did, there's no way I could have maneuvered through the debris fast enough or precisely enough," he let out a shaky chuckle, "Figured I could 'go down with the ship' as all good captains and pilots do, buy the escape pods as much time as possible," finally, Joker looked up and met her eyes, his green ones shining with unshed tears,

"Forgot SPECTRE Commander-fucking-Shepard was my CO and doesn't leave anyone behind."  His voice was rougher than Shepard had ever heard it.  Joker tore his gaze back to the screens in front of him before continuing, "Nobody else ever thought to ask, just knew that stubborn old Joker wouldn't abandon ship when told, loved a hunk of metal more than he cared about following direct orders."

His tone was so bitter Shepard knew he was repeating back things that had been overheard, hell maybe even said directly to him.  It made her shake with rage and sorrow.  Taking a deep breath to try and calm down and keep her voice even, Shepard opened her mouth to speak, but Joker continued on,

"Didn't matter to them anyways, I was the pilot that got the Savior of the Citadel killed, the reason you died," his voice cracked on the word 'died' and Shepard's heart cracked right along with it.  Without a second thought, she squatted in front of his chair took both of Joker's hands in hers.

"Joker," she said softly.  He was staring above her, at a spot somewhere in the distance.

"Moreau," Shepard tried.  Still nothing.

More firmly, she said, "Flight Lieutenant Jeffrey Moreau, look at me,"

His eyes snapped to her face, more open and vulnerable than Shepard had ever seen.  It shook her to the core.

"I don't blame you Moreau," she said.  Something in Joker broke and he fell forward with a barely stifled sob.  Shepard caught him gently holding him close while silent sobs shook his frame.  "It's okay," she murmured, rubbing soothing circles on his back, "It's okay, I'm here, I've got you."  Her shirt was growing damp where Joker's head was pressed tight against her.

"I thought you'd hate me," he whispered so quietly it was barely audible.  A vice squeezed around the cracked sides of Shepard's heart.

"Oh Joker, I could never hate you."

He sniffled, "Everyone else blames me.  I blame me.  I don't know how you can't."

Shepard smiled sadly, even if he couldn't see it, "Because it wasn't your fault.  You didn't blow up the ship.  If anything, you were the first person to realize the danger we were in and do something about it.  The whole time everyone else was abandoning ship, you were desperately trying to reach help.  How could I ever blame you for trying to save our crew?"

She feels another silent sob wrack Joker's body, as his arms finally come up to hug her back.  It's less hugging and more clinging to a life preserver, but she understands.  Time loses all meaning in the cockpit while they're in each others arms.  Finally, with a sigh, Joker lets go and starts to sit back up.  At the tiniest pressure of his back against her hands, Shepard let's her arms drop. 

Looking up at Joker, she was relieved to see that tension gone.  Despite the red, swollen eyes, he looked more like himself than she'd seen him since he showed her the new Normandy.  It was more of a relief than she was willing to admit.  Joker scrubbed at his face roughly before stretching, the pops in his back audible even to her. Shepard grinned, but before she could say anything, Joker pointed at her,

"Not a word," he warned. 

Her grin widened as she stood up, before almost toppling back down.  Apparently squatting for so long made your legs fall asleep.  Who knew?

Joker opened his mouth, but this time it was Shepard cutting him off,

"If I don't get a word, neither do you."

He shut his mouth, and smiled at her.  Not a grin or a smirk, just a smile of unadulterated joy.  It nearly took Shepard off her feet again, but she just shook her head.  Sobering slightly, Shepard asked,

"Joker, you okay?"

"Commander," he said with more sincerity than Shepard knew he was capable of, "I'm the best I've been in two years."

"Glad to hear it," she said.  Before leaving the cockpit, she tapped the tip of his nose, ever so gently.

If it was anyone else, they both knew it would have been a flick.  But Shepard would never risk hurting Joker.  And for whatever reason, Shepard was one of the few people who could take that kind of care with Joker and not make him feel less than because of it.  Probably because her crew had been such a mish mash of aliens, and the accommodations she showed him were no different than the ones she made for them.  It was just what Shepard did for her crew, and that made all the difference  

[randomrosewrites]

The aftermath of the tempest

Pairing: Kaedehara Kazuha x GN reader Summary: Many, many years after Kaedehara Kazuha fled from Inazuma, a lot of things have changed, but his past burdens remain. Or, Kazuha has settled into his new life in Liyue, but still desires his home across the ocean. Words: ~2.7K Tags: Fluff, established relationship, Kaz and reader have a kid, gn pronouns for reader, kaz gets emotional at some point, implied beigguang as well

a/n: What's this? Rose is actually writing??!!

Read it on ao3!

The young girl furrows her brows, front teeth catching her lip as she stares at the board. She's in deep concentration, barely paying any mind to the sweets or the apple cider (poured within a much too expensive cup) beside her.

Her opponent, on the other hand, is the opposite, holding a cup of tea within her palms, white steam drifting from the cup the same colour as her hair. A mystical smile on the woman’s face gives nothing away.

The young girl places a hand on a chip. Then hesitates, thinking a moment more before making a move.

The woman sets her cup down, ruby eyes scanning over the board before she lifts a jewelled hand, moving chips across the board in great succession.

"And with that, I believe I win," Ningguang says. "You did very well this time."

The young girl pouts, trying to hold back the tears in her eyes.

"Oh, don't tear up. It's alright," Ningguang produces a handkerchief and holds it out.

The girl takes it gratefully, hiding her face in the cloth. "Uh- huh."

Ningguang exhales. Children are so delicate, like the petals of glaze lilies. "How about you go to the other room? I'll clean up here."

The girl nods, and slides off her chair. "Can I take my juice?"

"Of course, you may. But remember to hold it carefully."

She nods.Holding the cup carefully with two hands, she slides open the silk screen and enters the next room.

Your head turns at the sound, looking up from your spot by the window: perched upon a lounge chair, feet up. You smile and gesture for the girl to sit beside you. She sets her cup down and crawls next to you, burying her face in your chest.

"How did your game go, Haruko?" You ask, combing her hair free of tangles.

Haruko shakes her head and a sniffle escapes her. "I lost."

You hum sympathetically, “I'm sorry. There's always next time. You and Lady Ningguang were playing for a really long time! Good job."

Harukao's grip loosens a smidge. "Thank you."

The screen door slides open again and Ningguang steps through. The material of her gold dress drags behind her as she walks, the movement smooth as water. She has a familiar treat nestled in the palm of her hands, a famous Liyue sweet candy.

You nudge Harkuo gently. She lifts her head, crimson eyes widening when she sees the candy. She scrambles out of your lap.

Seeing them side by side, Haruko looks more like Ningguang’s daughter than yours. Their eye colour and hair are almost identical. But Ningguang has high cheekbones and a sharp jaw, whereas Haruko has round, filled in cheeks, like her father.

"For you," Ningguang offers it to Haruko. "As thanks for an excellent game of checkers."

Haruko takes the candy with an excited beam on her face. "Thank you, Aunt Ningguang!"

“You are most welcome.”

With the candy, Haruko’s sadness about losing the match is all but forgotten. She rummages through one of the cabinets by the wall, pulling out a colouring book (A collection of cartoon-like Rex Lapis drawings in his dragon form) and the crayons that are specifically kept there.

Many years had passed since the first golden house went crashing into the ocean after the battle with the Ancient God Osial. But the loss only pushed Ningguang to rebuild the new one, bigger, more elegant, and efficient than the last.

Currently, it was parked atop Mount Tianheng, overlooking the harbour. It was fancy, the walls a rich cream and the floors polished dark brown. Some things had to be kid-proofed (especially when Haruko was younger and Beidou insisted on bringing her to visit.) But now, she’s old enough, and familiar enough with the building, that you’re not worried. Not even by the koi pond that circles the living room.

Ningguang plants herself across from you on the couch as Haruko begins to colour in Rex Lapis’ tail. “She’s growing bigger and bigger every day.”

You nod in agreement. “I swear, she’ll be taller than her father soon enough.”

Ningguang laughs. “Sooner or later.”

Haruko’s finished two drawings and is on the third when you look outside the window to the Port of Liyue harbour, glimmering with the midday sun. The familiar outline of the Alcor’s sail and ship dots the horizon. You stand up.

"Are you finished with your juice, Haruko? We're going to get ready soon."

She perks up. "Is dad here?"

You smile at her. "Yes. Almost. You want to be the first to greet him, don't you?"

She nods adamantly, hurrying to put away her things in their proper places.

"There are some ingredients in the kitchen if you'd like to prepare a lunch before you depart," Ningguang suggests.

“Thank you,” you say to her, before turning to your daughter. “What would you like to make?”

She thinks for a moment. “What do you think dad would like?”

“Hm. Anything that isn’t fish,” you make your way to the kitchen, Haruko following closely behind. “After a month at sea, I think he’s sick of fish.”

---

Lunch made and packaged, you and Haruko begin the long walk down to the Port. Steps of green plaustrite appear as you walk. They used to frighten Haruko terribly. Now, though, she loves the way they appear under her feet and disappear when she steps off.

“Watch your steps,” you remind her. Though you trust Ningguang’s architects, you want her to be careful.

“Uh-huh,” Haruko says, half-listening. She’s always distractible on these types of days.

Kazuha isn’t a frequent member onboard the Alcor anymore, but occasionally Beidou will plead with him to accompany her. She says his anemo vision makes cutting through enemies so much easier.

Kazuha will go on month-long voyages with the Crux, maybe two months if he feels like it, but refuses anything more. He doesn’t want to spend time away from you or your daughter.

By the time you arrive at the docks, you’re sweating and the Alcor is pulling into the harbour. Haruko hops up on a dock anchor, waving to the ship.

“Hi!”

A deafening honk sounds from the ship, making Haruko laugh. Then again. Then once more. Honk honk honk honk-

Jeez, Ningguang can probably hear the boat from Mount Tianheng.

Haruko stands back just enough so that the sailors can tie the boat off and lower the gangplank, then she’s rushing onboard the ship. A woman hops down from the wheel, holding out her arms as Haruko leaps into them.

“Auntie Beidou!”

“Hiya Haru!” Beidou grins, swinging your daughter around in a bear hug, long brown hair flying everywhere. “How have you been? Jeez, you’re getting tall!”

“Good! Aunt Ningguang said she misses you.”

Beidou’s grin widens. “Has she, now?”

“Beidou,” you greet sweetly. (Walking on board with much more restraint.) “It’s good to see you’re well.”

Her eye softens. Haruko slowly slides out of her arms. “The same to you. I thought you guys were coming to meet us tomorrow?”

Your house, the one you and Kazuha have, is right on the border between Mondstadt and Liyue. It’s far from the port but it’s quiet, nestled by the beaches of Yaoguang Shoal.

“Well, Ningguang offered us to stay last night, so we did. Haruko wanted to see her dad as soon as possible.”

“Ahh, I see. Well, good to see you again.” Beidou turns to Haruko, mischievous smile on her face. “Your dad’s gonna be thrilled, watch this.”

She cups her hands around her mouth and shouts, “Kaz!”

High up on the mast, a tuft of white hair pops out from the crow’s nest. You smile and give a wave. The tuft disappears, and quick as the wind, the man reappears, hastily scaling down the mast.

He jumps the rest of the way and rolls to his feet, brushing white hair from his eyes, and is promptly tackled by Haruko, nearly losing his balance.

“Daddy!” she squeals.

“Haruko,” Kazuha grins, hoisting her up to rest against his side. “It’s been so long. How are you?”

“Good, dad. How was your trip? What did you do? Did you see any scary monsters?”

“Scary monsters, hm, I may have encountered a few.”

“You gotta tell me over lunch – can we eat it in the bird's nest? We made lunch for you!”

“Crow’s nest,” Kazuha corrects gently. “And really? Wow. Did you help make it?”

“Uh-huh! But I’m not telling you what it is; it’s a surprise! You’ll have to open it like a present.”

“That sounds lovely, Haruko. Thank you.”

You walk up to them and press a kiss to Kazuha’s cheek. “Hi, Kaz.”

“Hello, love,” Kazuha purrs, leaning into your touch. “You look stunning.”

Beidou guaffs, Haruko’s nose wrinkles. “Ew.”

(She used to scream at Kazuha to stop whenever he’d recite sappy love poems to you, covering his mouth with both hands so he’d stop talking. It always made you laugh.)

You pull away from Kazuha and save your daughter and Beidou from your ‘gross’ affections. “The journey to Inazuma ok?”

His eyes briefly harden. He smiles tightly. “It was alright.”

There’s a hidden we’ll talk about this later in his voice, unnoticed by Haruko. She wriggles and Kazuha sets her down.

“Can we climb the mast now?”

Kazuha takes her hand, “Ask the captain.”

“Auntie – Captian Beidou, can we climb the mast please?”

Beidou ruffles her head. “Of course you can, kid. Keep an eye out for me on there, yeah?” Then to Kazuha. “I gotta run some errands on land. If I’m not back by the time you’re gone, thanks for everything.”

Kazuha raises a brow. “Might those ‘errands’ have anything to do with that golden brocade you bought?”

Beidou just waves and grins, trotting off the gangplank and jogging towards the Jade Chamber.

---

The crow’s nest is really only meant for one person standing up, much less three adults and one child, but you make it work. Haruko is obviously given the best seat, you’re squashed beside her, and Kazuha balances on the edge of the nest, legs dangling over the air.

“Why can’t I do that?” Haruko asks as you unpack lunch.

“Because it’s dangerous. Your dad’s very experienced and can catch himself if he falls.”

You’ve seen it happen many times before. Kazuha losing his footing or grip, that split second when he fell and your heart stopped. Then the gust of air that followed, propelling himself back up to safety.

“Once you’re bigger, you can do this,” Kazuha says.

Haruko huffs. “You always say that…”

He chuckles and pats her head. “We just want you safe, is all.”

You pass out bowls and chopsticks around. Kazuha helps affix a chopstick holder to Haruko’s (she’s getting better, but it’s still a challenge to her.) Haruko insists Kazuha close his eyes as you pour out lunch.

“Ok, you can open them!” she says once things are all set.

Kazuha opens his eyes. A steaming bowl of Jueyun Guoba rests in his hands. Juicy cuts of ham, crisp Jueyun chilis, and the rich aroma enough to make your mouth water.

“Ta-dah! What do you think?”

“Oh, Haruko, it looks divine. You made this?”

“Yep! Hurry and taste it!”

Kazuha takes a bite, closing his eyes. “Delicious. So tasty. Captain Beidou should hire you as a chef, or better yet, wanmin restaurant should hire you.”

Haruko grins ear to ear, “Hehe, thank you.”

As you all eat, Kazuha tells you all about the adventures from his trips. How he saw the most beautiful of flowers, or how he fought a translucent glowing eel, Captian Beidou cooked it up and ate it, how she was sick for three straight days afterwards.

Haruko listens to him intently, staring at Kazuha with such a light in her eyes that makes your stomach flutter with pride.

You snuggle closer to Haruko, wrapping an arm around her. The three of you like actual crows, tucked high away, safe from the clutches of the outside world.

---

Haruko wears Kazuha out that day.

She seems to want to do everything Kazuha missed for the past month in a single day. You told her she needn’t rush – Kazuha wasn’t going away any time soon - but that didn’t deter her in the slightest.

You soak your feet in the icy ocean and search for seashells in the sand. You catch crystal flies in the old ruins, delighting in the way Haruko’s face lights up when the yellow wings fade, leaving just the core. You scale one of the many stone cliffs just to enjoy the view as Kazuha plays a tune from a passing leaf.

On your way home, you get some mora meat from a vendor and share the remaining candies from Ningguang as the sun dips below the horizon. When Haruko’s eyes begin to droop, Kazuha carries her on his back the rest of the way home.

Kazuha brushes the hair from her face, kissing her forehead delicately. “Good night, my starlight. May your dreams be as sweet as shooting stars.”

“Poetic,” you murmur, barely containing a laugh.

Kazuha’s eyes gleam as the two of you tuck the covers tight around Haruko, kiss her once more for good measure, then gently close the door on her bedroom.

Finally, alone, Kazuha wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head against your shoulder and sighing.

“Tired, pretty boy?” you ask, a lilt of mirth in your voice.

Kazuha hums in agreement, releasing you to intertwine your fingers. He gazes at you, eyes-half lidded, and presses a smattering of kisses to your hand.

“Shall we go on a walk?”

You glance at Haruko’s bedroom.

“Don’t worry,” Kazuha reassures you. “The wind will watch over her.”

You’re tired, but you’ve also missed Kazuha enough to fight off your slumber. You both wrap up, then make the walk down to the sandy pools of Yougung. The full moon is high in the sky, the breeze cool against your skin.

“Things are still bad over in Inazuma,” Kazuha begins, softly. The wind almost carries his voice away. “It’s gotten better. The vision hunt decree is struck down. Some visions have been returned to the people, but things are still very tense over there…It’s not a place where I want to bring our daughter…”

You squeeze his fingers tightly. It’s felt like ages since you first met Kazuha, when he was just a spry young man onboard the crux. His hair was shorter, he still wore bandages over his arm to hide his injuries from escaping Inazuma.

Now, he lets his hair loose. He wears more Liyue-style clothing. His right hand – the one in your grasp, has healed. Though the physical pain has left, the scars remain.

“I miss my homeland,” Kazuha croaks. “I love what I have with you – I love our home. But a part of me feels forever trapped in Inazuma. Longing for it. I-” He shakes his head, speckles of crystal tears forming in his eyes. Your heart aches at the sight.

“It’s alright, Kazuha,” you wrap your arms around him, rubbing his back. “I can’t begin to understand what that feels like…but I can be here to help you.”

“I just fear-“ he chokes, gripping your shirt. “I fear I’ll never be able to see it again. I’ll never get to bring Haruko to see the cherry blossoms that bloom in spring, or let her feed the cats that roam the islands like wanderers.”

Though you want to, though every part of you wants to assure him he’ll see it, you can’t promise him that. He knows it as well.

You comb your fingers through his hair as his tears stain your shirt. “If that’s the case - If things never get better in our lifetime - then we will make the most of it. Nothing lasts forever. Inazuma will one day change.”

You pull his head from your shoulder to meet his eyes. They’re red and puffy. You rub your thumbs over his cheeks, wiping away tear tracks.

“But no matter what, we’ll see it through together.”

Kazuha covers your hand with his, leaning into your touch. “Thank you, love. I am forever grateful that I get to spend my life with you.”

You rest your forehead against his, pressing forward just enough so your lips touch.

“Forever,” you murmur. “And then beyond where the wind lies.”

[kashimos-hajime]

twenty questions (7/8) | r.b.

summary: No, he refuses to lose someone else. Not again, not you. Never fucking you. Or, after four years, Reiner meets you once more.

WARNINGS: angst, just conversation, a bit of violence, mentions of trauma, children ummmmm yeee, jean also appears <3 true king pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 8.3k

a/n: reiner returns!! welcome to the penultimate chapter and thank you for being on this journey with me :) again, song is not mine! it’s the wellerman sea shanty hehe

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Morning streams through the curtains.

You part the billowy white fabric, pushing open the window breathing in the late morning air. As always, it’s warm and ripe with the aroma of the fresh bread from the bakery you live above, and as you lean on the windowsill, you hear the door below you chiming with new patrons. You smile to yourself, resting your chin on your hand.

Even still, you can’t help but admire how beautiful it is, especially in the streets here, far away from a industrial zone. The Liberio interment zone is small, yes, but it’s no less beautiful. The architecture of brick and glass all hold an austere beauty, and when the sunset is upon you, the shadows they cast and the warmth that embraces the stone is something you’ve never quite seen before. There’s a church, and you’ve sat inside day a few days before, watching the light stream through the stained glass in amazement.

A knock at the door takes you from your thoughts and you let out a sharp noise of surprise, gaze ripping away from the busy streets. A tremor shoots through you and you swallow harshly, waiting in bated breath.

“The shop’s busy as bees, today!” your landlord admonishes on the other side. You let out a relieved sigh, relaxing a bit. “If you want, I can still save you a loaf!”

“No, thank you!” you shout over your shoulder, reaching to close the window and get ready for the day. Sliding a warm vest onto your shoulders, you adjust the hat on your head and grab your bag from the counter, your bare fingers a bit cold and numb.

You burn at the thought of Reiner. You don’t want to see him, even if you live in the same city now, but all the same, it’s hard to avoid him. After all, it’ll only be so long before you’re forced to confront your past, push yourself into his way because how long, really, can you stay away from him? As you slide the white armband onto your bicep, your heart tightens. You’ve seen the man he’s grown into—handsome, tired, lonely. That only reflects in you.

Pulling your arms through your jacket, you stare at the woodgrain beneath your feet emptily.

Why am I even here? 

Coming to Marley, of all places. Some days, you can’t wrap your head around it, before you’re reminded of the reason. It all has a purpose. You just have to keep going—keep moving forward.

Continuing through your loft, you shove your feet into boots and head out for the day. The festival’s tonight—you have lots to do before then.

.

Night slips in.

Reiner frowns when he realizes he’s walking back to the stage. He’s been trailing after the sound for a good half-hour, but considering they stay relatively nearby his final destination, he’s never felt the urge to detract. 

He still can’t place the tune that’s been hummed, whistled, sang gently and leading him on, and as the sky darkens and the crowd noise grows louder, he realizes that his trail is slowly growing colder and colder.

“Hey, Reiner!” His head swivels to find Gabi waving at him and he meanders over, frowning a bit. “Where’d you go? The others said you wandered off.”

“I took a walk to clear my head,” he says dismissively, ignoring her frown deepening. “I see you’ve recovered from your food coma.” Immediately, Gabi’s frown turns into a pout and she rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fine.” He snorts, turning to survey the area. The others are milling about. Zeke and Colt are talking by the bench, and Pieck and Porco are off together, as usual. They’re not half as inconspicuous as they think they are. Finding Udo and Zofia, his brow wrinkles when he can’t catch sight of a certain blond boy. 

“Where’s Falco?”

“He ran off earlier, saying he saw someone he knew,” Gabi says, waving it away. “He’s always being so weird. Who else could he know besides us?”

“What, are you jealous?” he teases, ruffling Gabi’s hair and she lets out a squawk, smacking at his hand. Chuckling gently, he surveys the area again as they walk towards their seats. Zeke and Colt give him a nod in greeting, one he returns. 

“Why would I be jealous?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” he replies distantly. His eyes keep searching, a ticklish feeling at the nape of his neck. He doesn’t know if he’s imagining it or if he can really hear that tune still at the edge of his hearing, nagging for his attention. Sighing, he crosses his arms over his chest. “What Falco does during his free time isn’t on your need-to-know basis, Gabi.”

“I know. I’m just saying—he doesn’t even have any friends besides us,” she says pointedly just as someone calls his name.

“Mister Braun!” Falco skids to a stop in front of him, his forehead gleaming with sweat, even in the cooler night air. Panting, he leans forward on his knees, meeting Reiner’s eyes, and Gabi tilts her head, confused and agitated and betraying her previous aloof words.

“Where the hell did you go?”

Ignoring her, Falco continues to try and catch his breath, barely punching out, “Can you come with me?” before looking down at the floor again, his shoulders rising and falling so quickly Reiner almost feels bad for him.

He frowns. “Right now?”

“You’ll be fine,” Zeke assures. The two look at the older man who glances at his watch. “It shouldn’t start for a few more minutes.”

Reiner debates it for a moment. Then again, it’s not like he’s the number one fan of this show. His presence is for appearance’s sake at this point, and if Falco insists, then it must be something important. Sighing, he nods and Falco takes off again. Telling Gabi to explain his absence to his mom should he not return in time, he walks after the sprinting boy, his mind a whirlwind on the possibilites of why he’s in such a hurry.

Falco stops past a blue curtain that’s near a residential building and points at the arch, smiling. His entire face is flushed and Reiner cocks an eyebrow, approaching closer before hearing a soft voice singing. It only grows as he passes by the blue partition, and his heart picks up as his eyes widen.

“…The Captain's mind was not on greed… But he belonged to the whaleman's creed… She took that ship in tow… Soon may the Wellerman come to bring us sugar and tea and rum. One day, when the tonguin' is done, we’ll take our leave and go…”

He knows that tune. The sailors sang it in the port city after Fort Slava. It’s one of their sea shanties—it’s rare to hear them anywhere except by the water, and when he reaches Falco, searching for that voice, his eyes fix on a figure leaning against the archway underneath the building.

The woman in purple.

Falco runs up to her. A hand is on her bicep when she shifts to look at the boy, and Reiner’s throat swells as his legs move on their own accord. Time seems to slow as Falco turns around, mouth open in words that go in through one ear, and out the other. 

The woman says something, and Falco twists back, frowning a bit, but she only nods encouragingly, and off he goes, running on ahead, down to the end of the pathway out of Reiner’s sight.

A strangled noise leaves his mouth as the blond slips from his view.

The woman in purple’s head snaps up at the sound, and Reiner’s entire body locks when he finally recognizes the face that searches his impassively. The white armband is covered still by her fingers, but when she pushes off the wall, it’s almost as if she bewitches him to come even closer.

And he does, his hand lifting up to reach for her. Reach for what has to be a ghost. No…

No, it can’t be. No. No, I’m seeing things, I am, I—

You lift your hand off your armband, and when his fingers meet your palm, he feels your warmth, the way your skin slides against his as he interlaces their fingers, and he chokes, entire body burning from the inside out as you fold your fingers over his palm, yank him into the shadow with enough force to unbalance him. You side-step and fling his hand off, let him crash to his hands and knees. Pain shoots up his joints and his eyes widen when he realizes his skin has scraped off on the stone.

“Hello, Reiner,” you murmur. He draws himself up, and there’s a strange lifelessness as he looks up to a face barely illuminated by light. You unbutton your jacket and crouch before him, arms on your knees. His skin steams and stitches itself back together and he swallows through a dry throat as your eyes flutter to the white wisps. There’s a raw damage lingering on your face, haunting like ghosts that should be long dead, before you blink.

Your long coat brushing the floor covers black armour, harnesses criss-crossing your legs and body. Your expression is severe, lips pressed in an impassive line, dark shadows under your eyes. The armband around your bicep is slathered in dark red, staining the symbol.

So that’s what you were hiding from Falco.

Reiner half-wonders who’s blood it is. If it’s the owner of the clothes you wear, or someone else’s entirely.

You lift your head, staring at Reiner properly for the first time in years. Clenching your jaw, you only look. You do not speak, you do not move. It’s terrifying. It reminds Reiner eerily of Captain Levi, with the same chillingly placidity, and he remembers how you used to smile so wide you’d complain your cheeks ached, how you would lean against him, clutching your gut ‘cause he made you laugh, and he had never heard a sound so perfect—

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself. “What are you doing here? Are you insane?” 

You barely move. Only tilt your head mockingly. “Probably.” 

Four years has changed you into a taller, leaner, stronger soldier—and he can only soak that in. You’re…

His breath catches in his throat. 

You’re beautiful.

But you’re crouching right in front of him, and you’re in danger. If Marleyans were to approach now, he’s not sure if he could lie his way out and that blood. How can he explain the blood on your sleeve?

You’d be left for dead, hanged for the crows. 

The image flashes through his mind like cold dread, a trickling drip of an icicle hanging in his mind and freezing his spine.

No, he refuses to lose someone else. Not again, not you. Never fucking you.

It is why he demands again through a hissed breath,“What are you doing here?” Why he stands up quick enough that their heads nearly collide, and you straighten up as well, smoothly running your hands over your coat.

You only look at him deftly as if he is as inconsequential to you as a roach. You don’t even twitch as his hand reaches forward, fighting through the searing ache in his chest. “You need to leave. You shouldn’t be here. I can smuggle you back to the port and take you home, I—.”

Your stare paralyzes him and his hand falters. “I don’t take orders from you. You are not my commanding officer, and I do not need you to tell me what I need.” Your fingers dig into the bloody armband at your bicep and Reiner’s eyes widen as you tear it off, planting it on his chest hard enough his lungs spasm and he lets out a sharp breath. Your fingers spread out over his chest, you step closer. “I don’t need you to save me. Not from Marley. Not from myself. And not from you.”

His hand comes to cover yours, but you slip out before he can touch you, and he’s left with an armband in his palm. Clutching it in a tight fist, he stares down at it for a moment before shoving it in his pocket and turning around.

Your name comes out of him without even thinking as you walk past him, and it must still hold something because you pause, head turning slightly to look at him. “I want to explain myself,” he chokes out, and the corner of your mouth curls into a hollow smile. “Please.”

“Follow me, Reiner,” you order softly, and without question, he falls half a step behind you, eyes trained on the ground. His head is swimming at your presence, and his knees are gummy, stomach convulsing as he tries to come up with what to say. Or maybe, what to say first. He’s had four years to come up with a proper way to say it, and he reaches for his breast pocket, where the letters he’s folded away rest, with shaking hands.

“Please…”

“I don’t know what you think begging will get you.” Something stony falls upon your face. “I’ve had four years to get over the fact that you used me. Now, I think I just don’t care anymore. I’m sure you have your reasons, but I don’t know if it’ll be the truth. You’ve had no problem lying to me before in the past.”

“That’s not true.” He doesn’t know to which part of what you said he means. The last part, every part. “I never lied about how I felt about you.”

“Right. Like I wasn’t just some pawn on your chessboard. Some lonely girl you could use to entertain yourself.” Your pace doesn’t slow, but your tone is laced with anguish you try so hard to cover. “At least Bertholdt had the courage to look me in the face and tell me he was going to kill me.” You stop by a crate, labelled as supplies for the play. Maybe they contain masks, or costumes, and Reiner stops, his shoes skidding against the stone as you reach into your coat.

Pulling out a knife, you wedge it into the crate and pry the lid off and Reiner’s entire body numbs when ODM gear gleams in the straw. It looks refashioned, sleeker, and in two parts, and he catches your hand reaching for the harness. 

Weapons, here.

You aren’t stupid enough to take on Marley on your own, which can only mean—

Shit, shit, shit. 

Dread trickles through his body.

“What are you two doing—Oh, Vice Chief Braun!” You slam the lid shut and press your left arm flush against Reiner’s body, covering it up as someone on their right approaches. Your hand tightens around the knife still wedged between the lid, and Reiner sets a hand on your shoulder, dragging you so he can cover you up better and as a warning.

Don’t do it. You’re stiff against him despite the easy expression on your face, and he sets a harsh glare on the intruder. Let go of that blade. Your entire body is rigid with a hot energy he doesn’t recognize as your fingers only tighten around the hilt. Don’t do it—

“Sorry to interrupt, but those are one of the crates we need for the play. It contains some costumes—“

 The performer looks stricken as you flash him an easy smile and Reiner’s blood freezes when the stranger seems to blush, voice fading.

“I actually work with Lord Tybur,” you explain easily with a tiny laugh, betraying the strength in your fist. “He wants to inspect it briefly before I return it. I think it contains the Helos costume? Gotta make sure every detail’s to his liking!” Your tone, innocent and cheery, floats through the distant sound of the crowd, and Reiner only stares at the performer who seems to shrink in his skin. Your fingers twitch when he hesitates.

“Oh, of course.” He scratches the back of his head, and you give him a gracious nod before he’s walking away.

You watch him go, and Reiner feels the way the air shifts when your smile fades away as soon as it came. You step away from him, loosening the knife from the crate. His hands burn as he reaches for your shoulder again, but you jerk back.

“You know,” you begin quietly, staring at the lid, “all this time, I thought I had actually found people again, you know. I thought you actually cared about me, but really, I realized all you’ve ever done is lie. Even after everything. Even after Marco died, and I told you how I felt about you, you just kept lying. Lying and painting yourself to be a knight in shining armour.”

“I tried—I tried to stop myself from caring about you,” he whispers raggedly, hands rolling into fists tight enough that his nails dig into his flesh, “but it happened anyway. That part of who I was was never a lie.”

“So you never saw me as someone you needed to protect? As this poor, lonely girl who loved you? Who fed your ego and—”

“Of course I wanted to protect you! I loved you, too!” he snaps and distantly, he recognizes this is the first time they’ve ever confessed that what they had… that it was somehow real and too good for him. It nearly makes him shatter. “How could I—“ He closes his eyes, teeth gritting as the flames inside him roar, consuming his heart. “How could I just stand back and watch you get hurt by the consequences of my actions? It’s because of me you were forced to leave the farm, leave that girl. Because of me you knew Marco and Mina and Thomas. You could have been so much happier if you never met any of us—I knew that—I just thought I could somehow—”

“Happier if I never met you,” you echo blankly before nodding to yourself. “Yeah. Yeah, that sounds about right.” He flinches but you continue on, “In the end, it doesn’t matter, though. I’ve learned to not let the what ifs haunt me, because my time with you… it still means everything to me.” You shake your head. “That’s the truth. You dropped a building on me and broke my bones. Truth. You left me alone in those walls with Bertholdt dead and Annie comatose, and you did so knowing you are the last damn person I’ve got that I’d kill for. Truth.”

Reiner’s eyes widen as your words sink into his skin like a vicious poison.

So that’s it then. Bertholdt is dead and Annie… Annie’s still alive?

You don’t give him a moment’s breath to ask as you take a step forward. On reflex, he steps back, hands raising, and your eyes flash to his palms. One wrong move, and a Titan will overtake the square. He’s sure he can read the thought in your eyes, but when you look at him again, he only sees cold indifference.

“You nearly killed me, Reiner. So tell me…”

Metal flashes and a breath stalls in his throat as a cold knifepoint digs into the bump along his throat. It bobs when he swallows, lips parted, and you meet his eyes, every inch of agony he’s forced upon you glaring back at him reforged.

“Why shouldn’t I repay the favour?”

His breath stalls, and he looks down at your fingers, wrapped tight around the hilt, nearly shaking. He doesn’t know if it’s because you hold the weapon that tightly, or if you’re just as afraid as he is.

Either way, it doesn’t matter.

“Do it, then,” he whispers. “I’m the reason this all happened.”

Your eyes, wide, search his beseechingly and his heart crumbles to dust. Even after all this time, you still hesitate. Why? Because you think he’ll come back? That he’s… redeemable somehow? 

Reiner envies that—he wants to believe that there is still good. But there isn’t. He knows it.

“I have a thousand questions,” you murmur achingly, as if the words are wrenched from your throat. “Over the years, I’ve tried to come up with some incomprehensible list. I couldn’t decide which was the one I wanted answered the most, but I thought why did it matter? After all, it wasn’t like I’d ever see you again. But here I am, now.”

As you lower the knife, the tip of the blade scratches his skin, light enough only to leave a white trail until it falls away, just like when he held you at blade-point four years ago, the tip of a sword digging into your sternum. 

How poetic that he finds himself here, his life in your hands. This is your retribution, he supposes, and your mercy, fighting for control of your arm, but you sheathe your knife again with a sharp, smooth thrust at your hip. There’s a soft scrape before you set your hands atop the lid, sighing softly.

A terrifying glint lives in your eyes as you smile at him faintly, and hoist the crate into your arms. 

“So, Reiner.” You tilt your head, gesturing for him to follow you down the pathway to a set of stairs that must lead to a deeper cellar. Somewhere he can’t transform in. Smart. You always were, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell you he’d never hurt you again, especially when he’s already done so much to prove that his words are empty. Yet, nothing is more important than protecting you, and Gabi, and Falco, but— “What do you say to a game of twenty questions?”

.

You flip a page. The day’s labour has you sweating into your harness, but all you want to do is just finish this damn chapter. Pulling carts out of mud like a damn mule wasn’t fun, but at least it had you busy. But, God, did you just want to relax for an eternity now.

Even after four years, you’d think your body would grow accustom, but every day, something new tests you.

“Hello?” a voice by your door calls and you look up from your book, smiling automatically at the kid peering into your room. He’s one of the younger orphans who didn’t come from the immediate wreckage of the fall of Trost but rather just a few months ago, you had found him in the woods, walking away from one of the smaller settlements.

You don’t ask, let him come and tell you more, and although you know his name, you know it’s hard for him to talk about anything else.

What you do know is that he is one that still climbs into your bed when there’s a thunderstorm, and that he’s a sweet, yet studious child with a knack for trouble when the girls invite him to hang out with them. 

That doesn’t mean he’s any less attached. He’s probably the one who clings to you the most, and you get up, closing your book. Setting it down on the nightstand, you crouch in front of him and pat his head. 

“Hi,” he says again.

“What’s going on, Xavier?” His red hair is still damp. He must’ve just taken his bath and he shrinks under your hand, probably to protect the clean smell clinging to his skin and locks. Lifting your hand amusedly, you tap his nose. He breaks out into a gap smile. 

He lost his tooth just three days ago, and you remember how proud he was, bursting into the fields during study period to show you as you untied the horses from the plow.

“There’s a man who wants to see you.”

“A man?” You frown, looking over his shoulder. Placing a heavy hand on his shoulder, you pull him into your room, out of the way of the door. “Did he say what his name was? Or if he was military?” The kids know the military insignias. Praying silently to yourself, you glance uneasily at your nightstand where a gun is hidden in the drawer. You could probably arm yourself in time. Xavier tugs at your ear. You look back at him, eyebrows creasing as you glance over his shoulder. 

“He said his name was Jean and that you would know who he was. He’s waiting outside.”

“Jean?” you repeat sharply, standing. Xavier flinches, looking up at you, and you scoop him up before heading to the nightstand, yanking open the drawer and grabbing the gun. Arms worm around your neck, and you squeeze the child closer to yourself as you quietly slip out into the hallway, towards where the other kids’ room is.

“Girls, close the door and lock it,” you order quietly, as you walk into the . The two sisters—Alina and Anya who share the room—look up from whatever they’re doing, and Anya gets up from her bed, but you merely send her a warning look as you  “Everything’s okay. Anya’s in charge until I get back.”

She nods, and you set Xavier down but he doesn’t let go of your neck, hugging you tight to him. Letting out a strangled sigh, you slowly pull him away, cupping his face. Your heart is slow, steady, and you take a measured breath as Alina glances out the window that is right over their desk.

“I’ll be okay. I want to make sure we’re safe.” His eyes flicker over your face and you nod reassuringly.  “You know what to do. Listen to Anya, alright? Try to get some sleep.” The redheaded boy nods and you stroke his cheek with a thumb before he scampers towards Anya’s bed. You stand.

You leave the room, shut it behind you as Alina draws the curtains shut, and your mind is thrumming with ideas of who it could be.

Entering the kitchen, you head to the porch with a quick glance at the window. There’s a figure leaning against the fence, back to you, and your fingers around your gun tighten. Draped in dark fabric and ash-brown hair shining in the oil lamps hanging on the porch, you can’t make out a face as you step into the bracing night.

“What do you want?” 

The figure jolts to his feet, turning around. Edges dulled by the night, you can barely make out his features until he steps into the light, and your finger pad taps the trigger when brown eyes meet yours. Heart lurching, everything rushes back to you and you manage to control the sharp inhale, tempering it into a slow and steady breath that swells up in your lungs.

“It’s been a while,” he comments idly, and you swallow through the hard knot in your throat. Eyes flicking to the gun in your hand, the small smile that had been curving his lips drops away. “You’re a hard person to track.”

“How’d you find me?”

“It wasn’t easy, but Captain Levi saw that some of us were getting desperate.”

Four years.

Four years since you’ve seen any of them except Captain Levi, who only visits to make sure you haven’t been raided by bandits and killed in the months between his check-ins.

In that time, seasons have changed, you’ve sprained your shoulder, it healed; you’ve been thrown off a horse, and gotten back up. You had a period where you would write letters every waking second you were left alone in your room, debating whether or not you should destroy them or send them just for the sake of feeling like you had someone again.

All those letters are still wedged in a box under your bed, so there’s that answer.

Jean stands at the bottom of your porch and you nod, gesturing for him to come in. Your heart plummets as you do so. You don’t know why Jean even bothered.

He closes the door behind you, and you set the gun on the dining table before moving towards the stove, and you ask him if he wants any tea, gracious host that you are. He shrugs and you begin to boil some water. It’ll give you time to look him over as he sits down.

He’s grown the beginnings of a beard since you last saw him. And he’s taller. Way taller than you remember. He’s gotten more muscle, holds himself differently, he’s… still Jean, in all respects, but he’s…

Tired.

You’re sure that’s one word you’re looking for. 

Migrating to the hearth, you wonder if he’s doing the same to you. Studying you like you’re a stranger. 

You start a fire, feeding it freshly chopped firewood from the day before and stoking it before letting it feast.

You never liked doing that before. Swinging an axe down on wood, watching it split. Now, it’s the only time you get alone to your thoughts. You don’t have to focus on chopping wood. All you have to do is swing an axe until it’s nothing more than muscle memory. You can just… be. 

Maybe it isn’t so bad. Maybe it’s why Reiner liked doing it.

You sigh, and grab the iron poker, keeping an eye on the stove. You don’t know if Jean wants to skip the small talk. You do, but mostly because you don’t like it when your old life comes into your new one. You can make yourself believe you can’t go back when no one’s here to remind you, and that the guilt won’t gnaw you until you’re only bones. 

Absently, you remember Bertholdt used to like small talk—Jean seems less so.

“I have news. I don’t know if you want to hear it, but you’re still military.”

“Not labelled a deserter, yet?” you inquire dryly. Everything is moving so slowly around you, yet so quickly. It’s a terrible sensation. “I feel honoured.”

“Let’s cut the shit, alright. What the hell are you doing here?”

“No idea.”

“You disappeared! No one had seen you in weeks—we thought you were dead until the captain came back with strict orders not to look for you, but do you know how ominous that sounds?” Something bites at your gut as you stare into the flames, and Jean shoots to his feet, chair scraping against the wooden floor. “You were our friend!”

His words sink into your shoulders, but you only blink, staring into the growing hearth.

“Don’t you care? You left!”

“I don’t regret it. It’s not like I’m begging to become a Scout again,” you murmur, looking over your shoulder at him. A sort of tiredness pulls at your eyes, and you stand up again, walking around the table. “I don’t know what you want from me, Jean. You came to me first.”

“I want you to care. I want you to come back and fight. Aren’t you remotely interested in what’s going on?”

“I know we have a train, now.” The pot begins to boil and you move towards it, taking out a tin and small metal spoon. “Historia is doing well as queen. At least, that’s what people are saying. She’s expecting. If you ever see her, tell her I’m happy for her.” Scooping leaves into the teapot, you pour the boiling water into the porcelain and let it steep. 

Turning back around, your eyebrows rise when you see Jean has walked around the table. There’s not even a metre between them as he tosses something at you. Catching it, you realize it’s a rolled up newspaper and your heart drops. At his nod, you pry it open and read the contents, fingertips brushing over two rectangular slips of paper within stating a time and terminal.

“What is this?”

“Eren’s gone to Marley by himself. Probably to do something stupid. I have two tickets to go and rescue his scrawny ass.”

“And?” Dread knots at your stomach as Jean closes his eyes, exhaling softly. Pleading, then: “Jean, don’t.”

“You’re the least compromised out of all of us. None of the volunteers would recognize you or would have been able to relay information about you if they have allies back in Marley, and despite everything, I still trust you. Which is more than I can say for Yelena and the others.” You snap the paper shut and toss it onto the table. Shaking your head to yourself, you walk away from him, but Jean only grabs your arm. “You still have a duty to our nation.”

“Don’t try to plead to my sense of national pride,” you shoot back coolly. “I have other responsibilities.”

“What, like tending to wheat?”

“Everyone wants to kill us, so yes, tending to wheat.”

“If we don’t find Eren, they will kill us. He’s our one chance of getting out of this mess alive. As crazy as he is, he’s our one ticket to freedom and we need to find him.”

Turning around to face him, you pull your arm free of his grasp. The lantern hanging is glaringly bright, and something knots in your throat at Jean’s somber expression.

“I fought for our freedom and you know what I realized? There will always be more people out there who want to take that away from us.” You wish you could sound passionate, but you just sound rough and tired. The bite tastes different. “First, it was Titans, then, it was the people we called our friends. Do you think that we’ll ever be free? That we’ll be able to live without a sword above our necks. Levi told me we’re devils in everyone else’s eyes. What’s it matter?”

“Because we aren’t what they say we are. If you lay down and show your belly, why did you become a soldier in the first place?” You jerk back and Jean leans against the table, crossing his arms. “I thought you fought for a dream. Something. Anything.”

“I thought I did, too. I’m just…” A hissing breath, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, turning away. Images of the lake back from their cadet years flash in your head. “I’m just tired, I guess.”

“Tired?” he repeats icily. “You think the rest of us aren’t tired? We all haven’t had the luxury to sit down on a farm and escape all our responsibilities.” 

Head snapping up, your eyes find cold brown chips staring back. Bitterly, you grit out, “Excuse me?”

“Do you think there’s a day that goes by where I think about Marco and how I wasn’t there for him? We all lost someone. You’re not the only person who’s had to go through it. We’re all guilty of something, but at least, I didn’t give up! At least, some of us decided to do something about it!”

“Shut up!” A hand flies through the air but he catches your wrist and twists, pinning you down to the table. Another hand slams your other hand into the wood and you grunt as Jean wedges himself between your legs to stop you from kicking him. Eyes burning, you stare up into the face of your friend and in that moment, the sorrow overflowing spills into your chest as if you are a well and he is the flood. 

He sinks, elbows clacking against the table as he bows his head. His breath is rushed, cool against your face, and you search his features before uttering out a quiet, “Why did you really come here, Jean?”

His eyes widening, his hands loosen. You try to suck your tears back in, but your eyes are burning so intensely you have to let them fall anyway just as there’s a sharp gasp. Jean looks up before he jerks back as if you’ve really slapped him. Sitting up, you twist to look at the doorframe, and your heart drops into your gut when you see a redheaded boy, eyes shining with tears.

“What are you doing?” he cries, and you immediately launch yourself off the table, crossing the distance towards him as Anya appears over his shoulder, helpless. The brunette girl’s guilt punches through you and you lift Xavier up into your arms, hugging him tight before wrapping another arm around the girl and poking your head into the hall. 

Alina’s figure is a mere shadow at the end of the hall, and you sigh, gesturing for her to come. Taking off at a sprint, she charges down the hall and you bury your nose in Anya’s hair just as another body slams into you, latching onto your waist. You close your eyes as Xavier tries to snuggle even deeper into your neck.

“I’m okay,” you keep repeating. “Just a heat of the moment thing. I promise, he’s not here to hurt us. I promise.”

“Are you okay?” Anya murmurs, and you look down. The eldest girl’s pulled her head back to look at you. Her eyes are narrowed, perceptive as always, and her lips are upturned into a faint scowl. You smile faintly, running a hand over her head. 

“I will be. Why don’t you take them back to your room?” you advise, and her eyes wander from you to Jean again. Catching it, you brush your thumb along her temple soothingly. “Go.” Reluctantly, she lets go of you and turns to Alina who still latches onto you like a parasite, but you rest a palm atop her head. “Alina.”

A sniff, and then she steps back, rubbing at her face. Her older sister takes her shoulders, easing her away and you crouch down as Xavier silently grabs onto your shirt tighter in his tiny fists. 

“Xavier,” you soothe. “I’ll be back in just a moment, okay?” You tilt your head. “I promise.” Wiping at his tears, you wait for him to let go of your shirt on his own accord, and when he does, you brush his hair back from his brow and plant a kiss on his forehead. Anya calls his name softly down the hall, and he lingers for a moment more before walking away, head still over his shoulder so he can watch.

You stay crouched until he’s gone and then you let out a soft exhale, head dropping, eyes closing.

“We need you more than you probably need us,” Jean acknowledges quietly, and your eyes open again to look at him. He’s straightened himself up, watching you with softer eyes. He visibly swallows, and you wonder if it’s pity or jealousy in his eyes. “But, we’re outnumbered in trusted senior officers in the Survey Corps. You’re one of them.”

Quietly: “I shouldn’t be.”

He falters for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I suppose not.” He grabs the newspaper again. “But somehow, you are. If Captain Levi trusts you, then so do I. Bertholdt is dead. Annie’s a frozen log in a basement somewhere, and Reiner’s still alive. So are you.” He extends the paper to you. “This is what guilt got us. So what are you going to do about it?”

“Then, how about we go back to my hometown? There’s water nearby. We can go in the afternoons, eat all this food you’ve never had before.”

You haven’t seen a lake in who knows how long. Not since your cadet years, it feels like. Your heart yearns for the blue expanses, to plunge into the cold depths and gasp at how cold it is. You thought you’d given that up, but just there mere thought of it sends your mind spiralling into the images you’ve dreamed of since you were a child. 

“Regret begets regret—don’t have any when you go, and maybe you’ll live a life happier than most.”

You know you’ll never forgive yourself if you never take the chance to see him again. Heart peeling in your chest, you grab the newspaper from him.

“They call it the sea, don’t they?” you finally ask. Jean nods. “A lot of water and there’s… there’s animals in there.”

“Yeah. They live in this salty water and… they eat seafood a lot in Marley. I don’t know if you know.”

“Reiner might’ve mentioned it before,” you say. You look down at the newspaper in your tight fist and swallow. All at once, one door closes and another opens, and you look at Jean, the date and time of the ship already burned into your memory. “He said he thought I’d like it. I guess I’ll keep that in mind when we go.”

Jean’s eyes widen as you hand the paper back to him, your palm scalding as you shove the ticket into your pocket. He says your name softly, but you only hold your hand up, eyes fixed on the floor.

“I’ll meet you there, I promise.” You turn towards the shadows of the hall. In the silence of the night, you hear the hushed whispers of the children you’ve dedicated your life to and your heart disintegrates in your chest. “I just… I need some time to figure everything out.”

“Of course. Whatever you need.” Jean’s feet shift along the floor. You look over your shoulder for a moment to find his eyes on you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” you reply. “Feel free to stay the night. It’s already late.” He nods, and you flash him the weakest smile. 

Then, you walk down the hall to your children. You have a lot of explaining to do.

.

You stubbornly try to ignore the tears tracing down your face as you reach into the compartment on your pants containing the letters. Reaching for it, you pull it out and crack it open, wondering if it’s even possible to bring yourself to read it.

“It’s not your last question,” Reiner had noted warily as they stood at the top of the stairs.

“Yeah. I guess we have to put a rain check this time.” You had set the box down, looking at him. You couldn’t recall feeling so warm, so empty. So convinced that there was something wrong with how much you still felt for him. “One more question, then?”

A nod, almost hungry for it. “Please.”

“Did you really, really love me?”

The gentlest of sighs, his warm yellow eyes. He had reached out for you, then second guessed, and reached for his breast pocket instead, extending the tin to you. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you.”

The entire cabin is quiet as you stare at the ring nestled at the bottom, atop the stack of letters that are wrinkled and must’ve been refolded so many times it’s begun to permanently crease in multiple lines. 

No one’s dared to speak since Sasha died and you look up at the others before back down at the ring again before pinching it between your fingers and lifting it to eye level. You’re not sure what it means to hold it, but you gently close the tin with your other hand, feeling it click shut, and slide it back into your pocket.

The band is silver, rather simple, but it’s pretty, too, in a refined sort of way. There aren’t any gems, but there are simple engravings, lines that curve the metal, causing ripples along the surface and, without thinking, you stretch out your left hand in front of you, trying to gauge which one it’ll fit the best.

Sombrely, you slide it down your ring finger, and let it sit there, lowering your hands and curling them into fists and raising your shoulder, hearing a bone crack. 

You’re exhausted. 

The ODM gear feels strange on your body. It’d been a crash course to get you familiarized with the updates, and you hook a thumb on the strap on your rib cage before glancing at the others. Connie sits with Mikasa and Armin, and Jean is at the back by himself, rubbing at his face hard enough that his skin is beginning to turn red.

You don’t know what to say.

What is there to say? Four years have left you strangely numb.

Jean’s lips pull back into a vicious snarl and his head snaps up to find you looking. Then, everything seems to soften, and he looks away sharply, almost as if to hide his tears.

So you don’t say a thing. Instead, you walk on to the back of the ship, past him, where the prisoners are being held, and you open the door without a noise, first noticing the blond boy. Falco. He looks up at your entrance, eyes wide, and you give him a slight smile as you close the door.

You wish you could hate children for the part they played in killing your friend, but in this moment, you just feel nothing. Not even sadness. You had seen what Marley’s done in the friends you’ve lost.

“Hello, Falco.”

“You lied to me,” he whispers. “You and Mister Kruger—Eren,” he corrects himself. “You used me.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry about that,” you tell him, looking at the walls. It seems like a supply area, and you grab the bucket and rag that’s been left by whoever checked in on them last. There’s a few clean rags and you walk up to them, crouching before the blond first. He seems to flinch back and the brown-haired girl lunges at you.

You have no problem pushing her aside and pinning her down.

“Don’t touch him!” she yells. “You don’t get to touch him!”

“Calm down,” you tell her calmly. “I’m not going to hurt him, and you are in no position to be making demands at me after you killed my friend.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re a devil. So was she!” she spits as you slowly wet the rag and dab at the blood cracking underneath Falco’s nose. It’s clear whoever was here before only used the bucket and rag as a taunt. Probably telling them they could piss in here if they wanted. A coy coil of disgust wraps around your gut. “Don’t touch him. You’re tainted! You give all of us a bad name!”

Your nose wrinkles as the girl squirms under your hand and you let go of her. Cupping Falco’s face, you continue to wipe at his cheek. The water is cold. You hope it soothes what must be a flaring face.

“I don’t understand,” he murmurs dully. Exhausted eyes find yours. “Why?”

“I’m sorry. I have no idea why kids are suddenly soldiers in an adult’s war.” You reach to rinse the rag. Dipping it in water, you begin to wring it out when suddenly, there’s a sharp gasp, and you turn to look at the other child—Gabi. She stares at your hands, eyes wide enough a ring of white is around her irises and you frown. “What?”

“Where did you get that ring?” she asks, voice shaking, and you look down at your hands. “That’s… that’s Reiner’s ring. Where did you get it?” You don’t answer, simply stare at her for a moment, and her breath comes out quivering. “He doesn’t let anyone know he has it. It’s for someone special. That’s—he wouldn’t even tell me. He doesn’t know I saw him with it. He… he —it’s supposed to be for someone!”

“Gabi—“ Falco grabs her arms as you regard her softly, and you have just an idea of what’s going in her head as she points at you. “Gabi, calm down—“

“Why do you have it?” she demands ferociously. “It’s not yours! Give it back!” You drop the rag back into the water, and sit back, drawing your knees up to your chest and resting your arms atop of them lazily as tears begin to trace down the child’s face. “It didn’t even cost that much! You won’t be able to sell it to, you know! Give it!”

“Gabi!”

“You have no idea what that means to him!“

“Stop—“

“You spawn! You devil woman!”

“Are you done?” you ask her quietly, fingers twisting the ring and Gabi inhales raggedly as you look at her flatly. Her eyes widen even more if possible, and she allows Falco to pull her back. Her wet gasps fill the silence and you swallow, tilting your head at your hands. “If you really want to know, I don’t really have an idea why I’m wearing it.” You sigh, dropping your hands and letting your head fall forward. “As for how I got it, if you ever see Reiner again, why don’t you ask him?”

Falco’s eyes widen as you look up and finding him staring at you with a strange scrutiny, and your eyebrows furrow as he lets go of Gabi and straightens up from where he’s sitting.

“Mister Braun didn’t even hear what I said when he saw you,” he murmurs, brow furrowing. “Like he’d just seen a ghost. You and…” He struggles for words, voice unsteady. “Eren said you guys were all old friends. But… but, if he gave you the ring—“

“Shut up, Falco!” Gabi beseeches, grabbing his arm, but Falco only stares at you. “Are you even hearing what you’re saying? You’re accusing my cousin of treason! He wouldn’t!”

“He stayed with you for so long,” he continues, as if in a trance. “Even Eren wondered what was taking so long. He… called it a lover’s quarrel. You…”

“I think you two should get some rest,” you interrupt, pushing yourself to your feet and ignoring the smokey feeling clogging up your chest as tears slip down Gabi’s face and Falco’s face pales at your blatant dismissal. “It’s going to be a few hours until we land, roughly. You’ll want to get used to being somewhere warm before they transfer you to some sort of prison. It’ll be a lot colder there.”

Taking the bucket and the rag, you return it back to its spot before walking out the room and closing the door shut behind you. 

You find the spot you once were standing at now occupied with Floch and his comrades, and then you turn your head to see Jean still leaning against the wall, arms crossed, expression burning the metal floor.

You amble over to him without a word and lean in beside him, sinking to the floor.

[thesconesyard]

One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Temporal Anomaly

Part 9

The door opened to reveal Scotty.

“Hey Doc, got your message… oh,” Scotty said as he noticed McCoy wasn’t alone. “I can come a different time…”

“It’s fine, come in,” McCoy said. He stood to get another glass.

“Uh, hello again,” Scotty greeted Leo. He walked into the room and took a seat on the couch down from McCoy. “We’ve just been going over the engines of your ship and they are just remarkable, just absolutely…”

McCoy chuckled as Scotty went off into a string of Gaelic. He poured a glass and handed it over to the engineer.

“Oh whoops,” Scotty blushed. “Sorry. I forget sometimes. Len’s picked up a bit of Gaelic from my drunken rambles.”

Leo was watching Scotty, and shook himself slightly before he finally answered. “It’s alright. I’ve picked up a bit too, the same way.”

Scotty beamed. “Perhaps ye can fill us in some more on how they work.”

Leo shook his head. “No, no. I can fly them, I don’t understand them. That’s Mon— Scotty’s business.”

Scotty took a sip and nodded. “Aye, the doc isn’t very mechanical minded here either.”

McCoy was studying the older version of himself. He hadn’t noticed so much in medbay, but Leo couldn’t seem to help himself watching Scotty.

“What’s your Scotty like?” he couldn’t help asking. Leo looked over at him sharply. “You knew Jim and Spock and Christine, but you didn’t recognize Scotty.”

“Oh aye,” Scotty grinned. “He’s a good Scotsman I hope, right?”

Leo took another drink before he answered. “Yes. He was the most brilliant man on the Enterprise. Even more than Spock, really. His hair was very dark like yours Leonard, and his eyes were a warm brown. Always ready to make someone smile with a light hearted comment.” Leo let a fond smile cross his face again.

McCoy and Scotty shared a worried look.

“Was?” Scotty asked tentatively.

Leo’s eyes focused on Scotty again. “They’re gone. Jim went on a mission and disappeared. Spock too, but I guess he ended up here. Mont— Scotty was about to retire but was asked to help with one last mission. The shuttle he was on crashed.” Leo closed his eyes. “The transmissions failed and they never found them.”

Silence fell on the men. Leo’s eyes had closed and his mouth had the firm set of someone trying to hold back a cry.

“I’m sorry,” McCoy said quietly after a moment.

Leo opened his eyes and refocused on the two men on the couch.

“There’s good too,” he said. “Christine got promoted and became CMO on a ship. Uhura’s still out there putting everyone in their place. Sulu’s a captain and Chekov is right on his heels.”

“Have you seen them yet?” Scotty asked. “Uhura and Sulu and Chekov? Are they the same as yours?”

“I haven’t. I had a long chat with Jim and Spock, then I found my way here.”

“Why are you here?” McCoy asked. “Sorry, I mean in our universe. Why did you come here?”

“Did you mean to? Or was it an accident? And what happened to yer ship?” Scotty jumped in.

Leo ruminated over his glass for a few moments before taking a sip.

“I wanted to get away. There was an inkling of an idea where Spock may have gone, but no certainty at all about Jim. Joanna’s got her own life; friends and career. She doesn’t need me the way I need her anymore.” Leo looked over at Scotty. “Jo is my daughter.”

Scotty nodded and took a glance at McCoy.

“With him gone it didn’t feel like there was much to go on for anymore. So when it was decided someone should try to see where Spock had gone, I volunteered.”

McCoy’s eyebrow twitched. He didn’t want to interrupt Leo’s story, but his curiosity was piqued about who the man meant was gone. And that he felt there was nothing to go on for; did Leo mean one of his friends who had disappeared, or did he mean— McCoy took a sharp breath— had Leo meant his mystery spouse?

“We knew the coordinates Spock had headed for, all I had to do was fly. I guess it’s a wormhole of sorts and it spat me out here, but not without first depositing me near some asteroids.”

“A hit then?” Scotty asked.

“A couple,” Leo answered him. “Banged me around good, must have been when I hit my head, and then y’all found me.”

Leo emptied his glass down his throat in one drink. “I’ve probably told you boys more than enough to give Spock a heart attack.” He set the glass on the table. He stood. “I’ll get out of your hair for now. It’s been a long couple of days. Leonard, thanks for the drink.”

McCoy broke from his thoughts and looked up. “Yeah, of course,” he got out. There were so many more things he wanted to know.

“We can talk more later. I’m sure you’re full to bursting wanting to know more about me...”

McCoy nodded.

“…cause I sure want to know more about you.” Leo turned to look at Scotty. “It’s so strange. You sound just like him, but your face is different. I wonder why that is…”

Scotty smiled warmly. “Says the man claiming to be the good doctor, with those blue eyes looking out.”

Leo laughed. “Quick as always. Goodnight boys.”

“Do ye need any help finding your quarters?”

“Where did Jim put you?” McCoy asked.

“One of the diplomatic guest quarters,” Leo said. “And I can make my way there, thanks. Your ship’s a bit shinier than mine ever was, but she’s still the Enterprise.” With that, Leo exited the room.

[jamesbuchananxsteviegrant]

She Who Shan’t Be Named - Part 4 | Sweetheart (Steve x Reader)

Category: Smut (Mandatory) Age: 18+ Trigger Warnings: Explicit language, intercourse, suggestive language, casual sexual actions, flirting with a lot of people Ship: Steve x Reader Summary: Tony lets his life-long friend crash at the Avengers HQ while she has nowhere else to go. What could go wrong with so many attractive individuals living in the same home? Word Count: 1.4k Masterlist: LINK

(hmu if you want adding to the tag-list for this series)

---

“Knock knock.” Steve’s voice echoes in the living room where (Y/N) is alone, sat watching some show on Netflix and eating a bowl of pasta.

“Afternoon, Cap.” She greets, flashing a wink his way.

The man laughs and shakes his head.

“Afternoon, (Y/N). How’re you doing? You settling in okay?”

“As courteous as ever, Steven.” She avoids his question.

His grin remains as he approaches the couches.

“May I?” He asks, gesturing to the couch across from her.

“Are you asking me permission to sit in the living room of your own home?” Her voice is half-serious half-joking.

He laughs nonetheless and takes a seat.

“I’m trying to make you feel comfortable.” Steve offers.

“You’re Captain America, I don’t think there’s much you can do to make me feel uncomfortable.”

Another chuckle.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“You can hold me to a lot of things.”

“What?”

“What?” She mimics, Steve smirking and shaking his head.

“What’re you watching?” He asks, trying to make conversation.

“Nothing you’d know, old man.”

Another laugh.

He relishes in it for a moment. The happiness. The genuine, relaxed atmosphere as he feels carefree and welcomed.

“Try me.”

“Big Bang Theory.”

“Hey, I know that one! Tony hates it.” Cap boasts, (Y/N) giggling herself.

“I know, that’s half the reason I love it so much.”

More laughter.

What Steve doesn’t notice is the way the woman spends more time eyeing his body up and down. The way his biceps are on full display, along with his abs, in the tight light blue t-shirt he’s wearing. The way she’s imagining what his beard feels like against her lips. And the other lips.

Sitting her pasta bowl down on the coffee table, she stands up and approaches the blond, watching his eyes lock with hers, eyebrows quirked in curiosity of her movements.

She stops directly in front of him and he’s all too curious.

“You okay?”

“When was the last time you fucked anyone, Steve?”

His eyes widen and he almost chokes on his own saliva at the question.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard, Rogers.”

She maneuvers herself so her knees are bent on either side of the man’s thighs, sitting on his lap.

His arms are almost up in surrender, not daring to touch the woman.

“Did I stutter?”

No. But he does.

“I, uh, you- what’re you doing?”

“Waiting for an answer.”

“God. Uhm, a while? Like three or four years ago.” He confesses, still looking bewildered at the woman.

“Was it good?” The woman continues, leaning forward so her chest is pressed against his, her lips by his ear. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I- what- it was alright.” Steve stumbles over his words.

“Am I making you uncomfortable, Captain?” Her voice is no louder than a whisper, her breath making goosebumps prick his skin in the room that’s almost too hot.

“Not quite the word I’d use.” He manages.

“No? What word would you use?”

He hesitates again, eyes widening even more so as she gently takes his hands in her own and rests them on her hips.

“I don’t know.” Steve whispers, locking eyes with her once she’s pulled back enough to do so.

“May I kiss you, Steven Rogers?” She asks, whilst she wants this and is confident, she doesn’t want to do anything to make the man in front of her uncomfortable.

He opens his mouth a few times before deciding on the right answer.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I’m always full of good ideas, Captain. Allow yourself to indulge in a little bit of fun every now and then.” (Y/N) whispers, leaning forwards and pressing a gentle kiss to the man’s lips, feeling him reciprocate it instantly.

His hands squeeze her hips just that bit tighter when he does, the woman internally grinning at the feeling.

She pushes the boat out and kisses him harder. Deeper. Faster. Wanting to see where his limits are.

Their breathing is heavy, Steve taking over the kiss without even realising it himself.

She slowly pulls back and loves the way he follows her, not wanting to stop.

“Look at the state of you, Stevie.”

The nickname makes a small whimper escape his mouth as he pulls back and meets her eyes once more, looking half guilty half desperate.

“I- I’m sorry, I don’t know-”

“None of that. I don’t want you to be sorry, Cap, I want to know how much you want it.” She teases, voice husky as her hands reach up to his face, stroking his beard.

The man gulps.

“I don’t think this is a good idea. Stark will-”

“This isn’t about Stark; this is about you and me, Rogers. He doesn’t need to know.”

She presses her lips to his again, grinding down on man so very subtly, but enough to feel the growing shaft in his jeans.

“Fuck,” Steve whispers between kisses, the pair pausing as they enjoy the feeling of her movements.

“Language.”

He can’t help the smile that forms at her comment. He squeezes her hips a little harder.

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta stop. You’re gonna-”

“Gonna what, huh, Cap? Gonna make you horny? Gonna make you hard? Gonna make you fuck me?” She interrupts, actions becoming more and more needy with every word she speaks.

“Fuck, (Y/N).” He groans, head lolling back onto the sofa.

“Not an answer, Steve.”

“We really shouldn’t.”

“Fuck me, Cap.”

And that’s his limit.

He tosses the woman aside so she’s on her back on the sofa, adjusting himself so he’s hovering over her.

Her eyes glisten with anticipation as the man unbuckles his jeans before unzipping them, yanking them down enough to reach for his, now, rock-hard cock.

“Turns out that America’s Sweetheart isn’t so sweet after all.” (Y/N) teases, hoping to get him a little riled up.

“Shut up.” He manages to groan, yanking down her leggings and panties in one go. “How’re you so wet already?”

The vulgar words coming from a man like Captain America do something indescribable to her core.

“Can you blame me, Cap?”

He groans again, leaning over the woman and pumping his shaft a few times as he admires her body beneath him.

“Oh, you like that one, huh?” She teases, noticing how he reacts whenever she uses the title.

“God, will you shut up?” The man whispers, not at all harsh, rather begging.

“Or else, what, Captain?”

With that, he presses his cock to her entrance and slides in slowly. Inch by inch. And there’s a lot.

“Fuck!” Steve growls as he sheaths himself inside her.

(Y/N)’s eyes roll to the back of her head at how big he is. She genuinely hasn’t been this full in her life.

“Language.” She barely manages, but it’s quickly followed by a gasp and a moan as he pulls out and slams back into her.

She swears the man just shattered her cervix.

“Fuck, Steve!” She moans, hands wrapping around the man, nails digging into his clothed back.

“Language yourself.” He manages through clenched teeth. “God, you feel so fucking good.”

“Yeah? Is this just alright for you?” Her voice is mocking but struggling as he continues to pump in and out of her.

“You’re far more than alright, sweetheart.”

The words catch her off-guard but she pays no mind as she indulges herself in how good the man feels.

“Feels so good, Stevie.” She whimpers, Steve groaning and fucking her harder and harder, sweat forming on his face but he doesn’t care.

He’s never felt so good.

“Yeah? God, sweetheart, can feel you squeezing me.”

Filth.

“Want you to make me cum, Cap.”

Another moan from the man, cursing under his breath.

“Better yet, I want your cum in my mouth.”

“Fuck, (Y/N), you’re killin’ me.”

They’re going at it for a few moments longer before Steve is stuttering that he’s gonna cum.

Without second thought, the woman pushes herself back, dropping to her knees on the carpeted ground and opening her mouth wide, tongue sticking out.

Steve groans once again at the sight and pumps himself until he’s moaning her name and blowing his load into her mouth, (Y/N) making sure that she doesn’t miss a drop.

“Not bad for America’s Sweetheart.” She states once they both catch their breath.

Steve chuckles once again, redoing up his trousers and helping the woman up off of the floor.

“You’re gonna do things to every person in this building, you know that?” He smiles, both collapsing onto the couch and leaning on one another, eyes moving back to the TV where the next episode of her show is on.

“That’s the plan, Cap.”

Another laugh.

“We’re glad to have you, sweetheart.”

---

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[fanficsrusz]

Lure Of The Maw Chapter One - Henry Cavill Pirate AU.

Warnings: Eventual Smut. Kidnapping. Mentions of physical harm. Men being Pervy. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN SOCIAL MEDIA CONSUMPTION. NOT ME. THEREFORE I DO NOT ACCEPT ANY RESPONSIBILITY IF YOU GET TRIGGERED FROM THIS POINT ON. If you read and you feel like I've missed a T/W then please let me know nicely and I will adjust ❤️.

Pairing: Y/n x Pirate Henry cavill

Summary: Y/n’s sheltered life comes crashing down when pirates use her to get what they want.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Fucking pirates. Of all the things for me to get obsessed with and it has to be pirates. I don't know what it is but there's something about them that I enjoy. Anyway this is the result of my latest obsession. I apologise in advance for any mistakes. I haven't wrote in a while and I'm rusty.

Please comment/reblog if you enjoyed ❤️

I wake like I'm hooked up to mains. No sleepiness to slowly stir me awake, no slow warming up. Within seconds of realizing I was unconscious I am on my feet, eyes wide, dreams not just forgotten but erased completely, my brain only focusing on the most dire question.

Where am I? 

I am drinking in the feedback of all my senses, trying to get any type of answer from anything around me. 

I am first aware of the coolness of the air and it's stale stank. The ground is rough as if I were on a bed of rocks. It's almost as if it was moving. No. Rocking. Gently. Side to side. Followed by the creaking of wood that seemed to match the rocking. The gentle noise of water echoed around me. 

Am I on a boat? 

My night dress feels as damp as a flower in the dew of the dawn. I half wonder if I'm still dreaming as I still try to calm my rattling brain.

 Now I'm awake, perhaps more fully awake than I've ever been. There are no lights around me and no sign of another person. As far as I can tell I am alone.

I close my eyes briefly, trying to come to any sense of the situation but my imagination begins to supply horrors to fill the void. 

The last I can remember was being in bed before a noise woke me from my slumber and then… Darkness. 

After a minute or two the sound of heavy footsteps permeates the inky blanket.  I want to run, but it is with faltering steps and raised hands that I realise there is nowhere to run in the small room. 

Within seconds I know I am trapped and my eyes focus on the direction that the echoing footsteps are coming from. I can hear the muffled laughs of multiple people - men specifically. My heartbeat quickly matches the mysterious footsteps and I have nothing I can do apart from wait. 

Through the heavy door that suddenly bursts open, I take in the shafts of light that spill through the gaps, casting shadows over those that pile in, making the already cramped room seem even smaller. 

"Well look who's finally awake" the voice was like the magma chamber of a volcano, deep, but filled entirely with the molten rock. His voice could be powerful enough to make my bones feel like they were vibrating. I didn't have to know who he was to know that when he spoke, everyone would turn, whether they knew him or not. His voice was just so deep, so full… but now was not the time to focus on that. 

Others followed him into the room, maybe eight or nine men, some bringing in lanterns that lit the room like the morning sun allowing me to see more than before. 

"Good evening princess" his features came into view as he spoke and I felt my blood run cold. 

My eyes followed the rugged beard hiding the sun kissed skin beneath, the matted brown hair that sat under his large leather hat. His blue eyes that did not see, yet only scanned about him for rewards and threats. 

The other men all had a look of those who had died a while previously and were casually rotting from the inside out. None of them looked as if they even knew what a bath was. 

Without even speaking I knew instantly who they were; My father had hung enough of them in the town square for me to recognise their type. 

"You're a pirate" I spat, and the men all laughed. I took a step forward, trying to muster up any anger I had to do anything that would be seen as a threat but instead I stumbled, the rocking of the ship bringing forth vertigo that made me feel nauseous. 

"Check it out men - " the original man snickered, the captain I assume from the ridiculous hat he wore, "- she's turning green on us. Guess she doesn't have her sea legs just yet". They carried on laughing and the captain's eyes stayed glued on me as I tried to find my balance. "Just make sure to keep it all in Princess because you'll be mopping the deck yourself. We don't care if you're rich or whatnot. There's no servants here". 

He placed his hands onto his belt buckle and I felt anger flood my body. I wasn’t thinking as I let out my boiling antipathy and swung my tightened fist, too quick and potent, towards the captain's general area. The impact like thousands of venomous blades pierced across my whole hand as he quickly grabbed onto my wrist, stopping my futile attack and yanking me close enough to him so that I could smell the salt, alcohol and leather on him. It led me to one conclusion: I had never punched anyone before in my sheltered little life. 

My eyes widened in shock as I met his eyes, his mouth turned up in a smirk as a low chuckle rumbled through his body like rolling thunder in the sky. The crew followed his lead, each laughing along with him. 

"Would you look at that! She's a feisty one" 

Without breaking his eye contact with me, the captain held out his hand and rope was instantly placed into his grasp. He roughly grabbed my other hand, my resistance doing little to stop him and he bound my hands together. The rope was guaranteed to give me bruises and I highly doubted they would give me any ointment or if they even knew what that was. 

"We won't have any of that from a lady. You're supposed to be a princess, remember, have a little dignity. How would your father react if he heard about his precious little daughter doing such a thing." he pulled me closer to him, leaning into my ear as his sultry voice filled my head. "Play nice". 

He pushed me back, not enough for me to fall over but with just the right amount of force for me to find my seat again. My eyes followed the captain as he made his way back to the crew. 

"There's no use fighting it. The ropes are tied and you're going to be stuck here with us for the foreseeable future - or at least until your father pays the ransom" the men around him cheered in unison. 

"You're a pig" I seethed through gritted teeth. Never in my life did I even think I would be talking to such dangerous people with such a tone but something inside me took over. A small voice inside my head was screaming at me to stop but I couldn't bring myself to listen. 

The captain bellowed forward as his laugh echoed around me. 

"I'm a pig, am I?" his eyebrow raised as he stepped forward, my back straightening as I tried to keep my composure. "No. I'm not". 

He bent down, eyes darting between mine as I swallowed my tongue. 

"I'll tell you what I really am-" he smiled, his hand rising to brush my tousled hair from my face. My body stiffened at the intense heat his hand had on my cold skin. "- I'm the only thing standing in between you… And them" 

My breath stopped as my gaze rose from his shining blue eyes and landed on the men behind him. They looked at me as if I was nothing more than a piece of meat and I was suddenly aware of how revealing my night dress was. I crossed my legs and brought my arms closer to my chest in an attempt to hide everything. Their eyes trailed over my body and I felt a shiver of disgust swarm over me. 

The captain trailed his hand down my arm but I was more concerned about the other men that looked as if they were ready to jump at the sound of his command. 

"You see the way they look at you" his head moved in front of me, blocking my view. "they haven't had a woman's touch for in nearly eight months. Some even longer. Do you really want me to leave you in their company?" 

I opened my mouth to protest but I heard one of the crew whisper something about 'being first' and I realised I had to play smart. 

With a sigh I shook my head and he laughed.

"I didn't reckon you would" he pushed himself to stand and adjusted his trousers before extending his hand. 

"Come with me to my cabin. We can have a lovely chat, just the two of us, aye? Maybe WE could get to know each other better" his eyes trailed down to my chest and I lost all control. 

Suddenly I was on my feet and my head was ramming into his face as I headbutted him hard. Blood pooled on his lip from a small cut I had caused. Pride filled my chest as I watched him stumble backwards slightly, hand coming to wipe the blood away. 

I saw the other men step forward, some ready to draw their swords before the captain raised his hand, stopping them completely. "no men. I'll consider that a freebie. After all we did break into her bedroom and take her" He grinned slightly as he shook his head. 

"That was a dirty move you little filth"  he stepped closer again and my eyes caught sight of the pointed sword and gun that was held in his belt. "But it shows you have spirit. I like that". 

My body swayed with the movement of the ship, a lazy and understated rocking motion as his eyes remained on. narrowed, rigid, cold, hardened. I'm not sure how long we would stay like that but I knew I wasn't going to give up first. 

His hand suddenly grabbed onto my rope bound wrists, pulling me up right and towards him again. 

"Come on. To my cabin. I won't ask you again" he pulled me harshly towards the other men and I half expected them to grab onto me but instead they stepped aside, clearing a path for me. I stood there for a second before the captain pushed passed me and moved his head in a 'follow me' motion. 

My eyes fell onto a few of the men who continued to look at me with disgusting looks on their face and my mind could only guess what they were thinking. 

With a sigh I stepped forward following the captain out of the small room and into a slightly larger hall, decorated with nothing more than wood panels and lanterns hanging from the walls. It wasn't far until the captain stopped and he turned to two double doors that he easily pushed opened before holding them open for me.

I hastily stepped in, taking in the large wooden desk that had definitely seen better days and other random treasures scattered around the room. 

The captain rounded me, removing his hat before slumping into his chair. I only stared at him, still trying to wrap my head about the whole situation. 

"Do I even get the privilege of knowing your name?" I spat, wanting to at least know the name of my capturer. 

"My apologies" he smiled, "I'm captain Henry Cavill. And yours?" I smiled bitterly ignoring his question completely. 

"Good. Now I know exactly the name to tell to my father when he comes to rescue me"

Henry smirked, a trait I quickly learnt he did when he didn't know what to say. 

"My my. Such a threat from such a beautiful little thing" in the short time I had been aboard the ship I had learnt that I didn't enjoy being spoken down to and I let out a volant rage again in the form of spitting directly into his face. 

Henry grabbed a nearby cloth and wiped my spit from his face before slamming the cloth down, making me jump a little. 

"That was unwise Princess" he seethed. "Spit, hit or punch me again and it'll be a black eye. Understand". His voice had lost that sarcastic undertone and was replaced with annoyance that sent a chill through me. A chill that I shouldn't have enjoyed. 

Clearly he expected me not to stand as I was, and intended to keep on doing. His eyes wandered to the chair in front of his desk, expecting me to take this unsaid directive. That small smirk he wore was his subtle form of emotional warfare, yet hardly fair at all. Humanity was a graceful and cooperative animal, and those who have learned to abdicate from all that is human abuse it so flagrantly. If he could learn to "see" me, then I'd be impressed, yet his eyes stop at my skin and his thoughts are geared only toward his own perceptions and desires. But still. I had to play smart. 

I stepped forward and Henry raised his eyebrow as if daring me to try something again but instead I only sat in the flimsy chair. 

"I'm only trying to be a gentleman - but you're making it very difficult" 

I snorted bitterly sitting back in the chair. 

"A gentleman-" I spat, "-would never kidnap a woman and tie her up on a dirty boat filled with dirty pirates". 

"Ship" he corrected. 

Henry rubbed his beard, slowly tapping his finger on the arm rest as he watched me intently with his other hand. 

"Maybe so but you see your father is the real villain in this story. Not me". 

I sat straight at the vile words he spoke and Henry seemed to like the fact that he had riled me a little. 

"I hate that it had to come to this but I had no choice" his hand found its way onto the desk and picked up a small dagger that laid on top. His hands grasped the handle firmly. I imagined that in my own hands the handle would have been an adequate size but in his larger hands it seemed so small. 

He dug the blade into the already damaged wood and began to twirl as if it was a coping mechanism for his anger. 

"see your precious little daddy has decided to tax my people. And that's not even to mention the amount of them he had killed" 

I saw his eyes flash red as he thought of that memory and even I had to agree with him that it was a harsh punishment but at the end of the day, they were pirates. 

"My people have nothing. I've tried to stop him. I left threats and warnings -" i remembered the wax sealed letters I often found on my father's desk but never got a chance to read but at least now I knew what they were.  "-I've begged him to give the money back to people but he won't listen. He's sat in that castle with you making himself wealthy whilst the others starve and I won't have it". 

I laughed bitterly. 

"The pirates may be the killers upon the sea, but the soldiers are the killers upon the land and everything you say and everything you do is treason to the love of heaven and to the kingdom. You're just guaranteeing your own death with every word." my head was held high and I made sure to pronounce each word with such grace just to prove my point that no matter what he wouldn't get away with this. 

With a final slam of his fist, he dug the dagger into the wood making it stand alone as he pulled his hand away. 

He pushed his chair back, standing on his feet as he became more and more annoyed. He ignored me and continued on with his little speech. 

"But he didn't listen to my warnings, did he?" he began to circle me and I felt myself sink into the chair as I knew what his next words would be. 

"Ohh" he whispered, "you know exactly what he did don't you?". 

I said nothing. Did nothing. There was nothing I could say. 

"He doubled the tax. Doubled the amount of people looking for pirates to kill. He turned the people I'm trying to help against me by putting a prize on my head. Mine! The one person who's trying to help them". 

His footsteps stopped behind me and I held my breath as I felt his presence behind me. I felt the wood of my chair creak as the weight of his arms bared down on the back of the chair. He laughed again as he leaned closer, his mouth skimming my skin as he spoke. 

"So I had to get creative. I had to do something that would get his attention. I had to do what pirates do best." his hand played with my hair as his voice became lower and more aggressive. "I took his treasure". 

My heart skipped a beat as he inhaled my scent, the idea of this dirty pirate being anywhere near me making me feel physically sick. 

Suddenly Henry pulled back, continuing rounding me before stopping in front of me and leaning on the desk, his arms folding across his chest.

"and upon getting rid of the taxes and taking the bounty off my head, he will receive you back - unharmed".

I stared at his face for a second. Never in my life had I been this close to a pirate and never in my life had I been so infatuated by one. With his messy dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous. His eyes a mesmerising deep ocean blue, flecks of silvery light performing ballets throughout. His face was strong and defined, his features molded from granite. He had dark eyebrows, which sloped downwards in a serious expression. His previously playful smile had drawn into a hard line across his face. His perfect lips ripe for the kissing. His strong hands, slightly rough from working, folded away as he stared deep into my eyes. I couldn't help but blush.

'No' I thought, 'he's a pirate. He's the bad guy'. I pulled my eyes away from his captivating gaze.

"My father would never bargain with pirates. He probably has the entire English armada out looking for me as we speak. You will never get away with it".

My knuckles turned white from clenching my fists too hard, and my teeth were gritted from efforts to remain silent, my hunched form exuded an animosity that was like acid - burning, slicing, potent. Henry's face was red with suppressed rage and he only laughed bitterly.

"you don't think your daddy would bargain with me? Even for you? His precious daughter? Hmm?" he leant forward and raised his eyebrows and I only remained silent.

"You're his prize. His little darling" he mocked and I gulped before he tilted his head, another idea popping into his head.

"On the other hand-" he rubbed his beard again, "- he is a greedy man. Maybe his pride will get the better of him. Maybe now we will find out where his heart really lies. Maybe I will get to have some - fun."

"He will hunt you down. Hang you in the town square and i'll be there to watch"

Henry laughed again.

"That's very optimistic" he shook his head and smiled to himself. "You know it's very hard to dampen your spirits. I've never met someone like you before. But your father would be a fool to come after me. I don't know if you've ever heard of me before, but I'm not afraid to get blood on my hands".

In a swift motion Henry pulled the dagger out from its place on the desk and lunged towards me. Maybe it was fear, or bravery or sheer stupidity, but I didn't as much as jump as he held the knife to my throat. I knew he wouldn't kill me, would he? He needed me.

"Not your father's. Not yours. Not anyone's" the cold blade ran over my skin and I tried my best to keep my eyes as emotionless as possible as I stared him down. "If you were wise you would show me the respect I deserve"

For a second he continued to hold the cold blade against my skin and neither of us tore our eyes away from the other. Slowly he pulled the dagger away and put it back onto the desk.

"Now princess" he started, "I will not be mocked and belittled in front of my men again. Especially by a spoilt, little, rich brat like you".

I felt a small gasp leave my lips at the insult. I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, to have another swing at him but I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing he had got to me.

"Do you understand?" I bit my lip as I held my tongue and simply nodded"

"Good girl" he smiled, tapping my chin slightly to make me look at him. My gaze lifted to look at his glowing eyes and I felt another shudder run through me.

"Eito. Page" Henry called out and two men entered the cabin. Our eyes still stayed locked on each other as he continued to give orders.

"Take our guest to her cabin" the two men stepped closer and I could hear the excited laughs escape their mouths as their hands grazed over my bare arms.

"but!" Henry stopped them, making them pull back quickly. "If anyone so much as lays a hand on her they will be taking a swim with a rock around their neck" his eyes finally lifted from mine and he looked between the two men. "Do you understand?"

"Aye cap'n" they said in unison.

"Good".

Once again the two men helped me up, this time they hold a lot more gentle.

"Good night princess" Henry smirked, turning his back to me and walking back to his seat behind his desk.

"Mr Cavill?" I called out, making all three men stop what they were doing. Henry slowly looked up at me, an eyebrow raised

"Y/n Y/l/n...My name.".

"Welcome aboard Ms y/l/n"

TBC

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[shofics]

So tumblr ate the ask (thanks! I hate it!) but @knifemartin sent the prompt 13. pirate au but make it... sky pirates with Earhart, Zolf, Sasha, and Wilde! This got frighteningly long so I had to put it under a cut, I hope you enjoy my ramblings. <3 They’re going to kill a dragon!!

I think I genuinely might clean this up and make it into a proper fic. Watch this space. 

Zolf Smith is a miner. Zolf Smith dreams of the sky. Zolf Smith kills his brother. Zolf Smith takes flight.  

The Meritocracy doesn't have air forces- don’t really need ‘em when you’re a huge fuck-off dragon who can fly- but they’re worried about the increased presence the separatists are having in the skies above their lands, so they’re building one. Zolf leaps upon it like a life raft.

When the ship goes down, there are two reasons he doesn’t die; his past, and his god.

The Reliant answers the emergency call, and that surprises Zolf- a known separatist vessel, making an attempt to save the crew of a ship in the Meritocratic Air Force- but a lot of things surprise him about Captain Earhart. It’s not the Reliant’s fault that he is the only survivor. It is due to the Reliant that there is an only survivor at all.

His family were Harlequins. Captain Earhart recognises him, visits him in the sick bay as her medics do their best to save his legs, asks after his father, asks after his brother. Gives an understanding nod when he refuses to speak about them. Offers him a job, because he desperately needs one.

It’s a lot all at once, and they can’t save his legs, but he finds he doesn’t need them. Dwarves don’t have the build that most of the Hermes lot have, but he’s never let not fitting in stop him. The feeling of the wind in the rigging is like wings on ankles he doesn’t have anymore. He’s freer than he’s been his entire life.

//

When he is thirteen years old, Brock Rackett successfully makes it out of Other London and out of the clutches of the Rackett clan by chopping off his ring finger and escaping on the first air vessel that will take him. At least, this is what Sasha believes. She’s sad he left without her, but she knows well that when an opportunity comes, you take it. She hopes he made it out safe.

Nine years later, at twenty-two, Sasha’s opportunity finally comes. She heads for the aeroport. Maybe she’ll be able to find him.

Barrett’s men are following her, she can feel them on her tail all through the crowd like a bad smell; she needs a cover, needs somewhere to hide. There’s a drunk in the corner of the bar, some once-foppish-looking dandy, and Sasha decides to make him her cover.

She slides into the seat next to him and tries to be as inconspicuous as possible, but the drunkard starts and leaps to his feet, swaying. “Keep your trousers on,” she hisses, jumping up to pull him back down in front of her- he’s tall enough, he should provide good cover.

The man staggers out of her grip and produces a dagger from nowhere. He tries to fend her off with it- poorly- and then his eyes roll up and he collapses. Sasha just barely manages to catch him before he hits the ground.

//

Wilde knows the Meritocracy is crumbling. He can feel it in the air; something big is coming, something very bad, and he really doesn’t want to be here when it finally arrives.

Though maybe the sense of impending doom he’s getting is just from lack of sleep. But he’s sure that’s fine. It’s fine. He’s fine.

So he puts his bardic talents and his espionage training to work, following the trail of the odd orders and the disappearing agents, and realises quickly that if he stays, he’ll probably end up disappearing as well- or worse, become one of the people giving the odd, conflicting orders. He doesn’t know what that’s about. He doesn’t want to find out.

Wilde fakes his own death in the hopes it will throw off the scent, and decides, like so many others seeking the separatists, to head for the Americas.

In a bar at the aeroport he is accosted by a mugger, and he knew he was being conspicuous, but with everything blurring and the ringing in his ears he’s in no shape to properly defend himself. Instead of killing him, though, the dark figure hauls him up and runs.

He’s not lucid enough to take in the scene of the room she drags him into, and so he doesn’t resist as someone snaps something cold around his wrist, and he at long last sinks into a deep and dreamless sleep.

//

Earhart knew the look of people like Zolf Smith- lost, angry, needing. She’s seen plenty of it, in her years as an airship captain, because there are only a few reasons why people set out for the skies. And so she took him on, and he proved a fantastic first mate, knew his stuff inside and out and indulged her more reckless tendencies.

Plus, he’d been fleeing the Meritocracy. That automatically put him in Earhart’s good books.

Famous (and infamous) Harlequin airship captain Amelia Earhart was, by that point, becoming famous and infamous enough to become a thorn in the Meritocrats’ sides. They decided to target her. The fact that they tried to take down the Reliant was not her fault. The fact that she turned the whole ship around to attack back, causing a wreck that killed almost all of her crew and blew the Reliant into unsalvageable bits… that was.

The only reason she hasn’t drunk herself to death by this point is her ‘fantastic’ first mate (she’s regretting that now, in an angry way), who for some unknowable reason is unwilling to let the guilt swallow her whole.

//

Zolf Smith was an airman. Zolf Smith dreams of gods and wings and roads not taken. Zolf Smith is given a choice. Zolf Smith chooses no.

Zolf Smith loses his magic.

Earhart is trying to die, and he’s doing his best without access to his healing magic, but it won’t work forever, not when she’s this determined to let herself waste into nothing. He’s not good at talking, and that’s what she really needs- someone to talk to. Someone to listen. But he’s got no legs, and he’s got no magic, and he’s got almost no hope left, and nowhere to go.

They take refuge in a seedy bar in the closest aeroport and report the crash; two survivors, him and Earhart. They’ve been there a month and a half when the door to their room bursts open and a terrified kid with dark shaggy hair and an enormous jacket practically falls through the doorway, lugging an unconscious man in a blue and green waistcoat.

For a split second they all just stare at each other- everyone except for the unconscious man, of course, being as he is unconscious (and bleeding, from the nose and from the ears, and Zolf may not have magical healing but he has medical training and he knows that’s bad)- and then the kid drops her charge like a sack of potatoes, slams the door closed, and dives under the bed.

“Are you in trouble?” is all Zolf asks, and the kid nods, petrified and utterly silent. “Fine. Stay there.”

The unconscious man begins to shake and cry out as Zolf manhandles him into his bed, as though having a nightmare. He wakes with a scream, eyes wide and terrified. Someone bangs on the door. “Do you mind?” Zolf yells. “Little busy in here!”

The door bursts open a second time- those poor hinges- and two men of the kind who aren’t holding knives until you look at them from the right angle, and then they definitely are, and they’re pointed right at you, appear in the doorway. They take in the sickroom and the man with the two prosthetic legs, look nonplussed for a second, and then one nudges the other and tells him to “get a move on, she’s in here somewhere,” and they disappear down the hall.

Zolf pulls the door shut behind them and goes back over to the man in the waistcoat. It takes a bit of figuring out, but eventually, in desperation- the man is obviously dying- Zolf fishes out the anti-magical handcuffs issued to him as soldier and medic in the Meritocratic Air Forces, and clips one around his wrist. He goes limp.

He turns around to find the dark haired kid staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers. “Were they lookin’ for you?” he asks, and her eyes narrow.

“Why do you want to know?” she asks defensively- as though they could be looking for anyone else. The kid has ‘runaway’ written all over her.

“‘Cause I’m tryin’ to save your life,” Zolf snaps, and that seems to shock her, “so if you could work with me here, that’d be great, I’ve got enough on my plate tryin’ to save her life-” jerks a thumb to Earhart- “and apparently this one’s as well-” to the now asleep man taking up his bed. “Who are you? Who’s he?”

“I dunno,” says the kid, “he just kind of fell over.”

//

Sasha does not make the decision to trust him then. She doesn’t even tell him her name. She makes the decision to trust him when he tells her, a day later, as they sit against the wall and watch the man in the waistcoat mumble in his sleep, that he used to work on an airship.

“I’m Sasha,” she says. “Can I come with you?”

The white-haired dwarf named Zolf Smith- he looks too young to have white hair, but Sasha knows not to judge from appearances- grimaces. “I mean,” he says. “Dunno why you’d want to.”

“I want to see the sky,” says Sasha, who has spent her entire life underground. Zolf looks at her and seems to see something in her that pains him.

“I dunno where I’m goin’,” he warns her mournfully, looking back at Earhart, who is also sleeping. “But you can come with if you want. ‘S your choice.”

He doesn’t ask Sasha’s surname. She decides to trust him.

//

The name of the man in the bed next to her is Oscar Wilde, and Earhart starts frantically reaching for a gun, any gun, forgetting in her automatic fury that Zolf had taken them all off her weeks ago. A Meritocratic agent-

“Ex-agent,” says Wilde politely. “Please don’t shoot me, Captain, I’ve almost died once this week and I’m not really eager to repeat the experience.”

Earhart feels more lucid than she has in ages as she listens to him describe the strange series of events that brought him there, how sure he is that something is brewing within the Meritocracy’s upper ranks, the disaster that is coming. She can feel Zolf’s eyes on her as all her grief and guilt and despair and boiling anger calcify inside of her.

Wilde is like her, like Zolf, like Sasha- lost, angry, needing.

Wilde has information she can use.

“Mr. Wilde,” Earhart says, her voice hoarse with disuse but filled with more fire than she’s felt since the crash, “you are going to help me kill a dragon.”

//

She didn’t like him at first- he talked down to her, and his posh affectations grated on principle- but Sasha has to admit that Wilde is smart. She stares in disbelieving wonder as he produces a bag of holding full to the brim with more gold pieces than she’s ever seen in her life. His Meritocratic funding, he tells the spellbound group, because he can spellbind even without his magic. He liquified as many assets as he felt he could get away with before leaving.

“Pick a ship,” he says, “any ship. We can buy it. No need to steal.”

“We’ll need elementals,” Earhart says. “At least two.”

Wilde turns to Zolf. “You’re a cleric, aren’t you?” he says. “You can summon elementals.”

“Not anymore,” Zolf bites.

“Why?”

Zolf makes a face. “I don’t- when- okay.” He sighs. “Look-” and casts Spark into the fireplace. He jumps back in shock.

“I… don’t see the problem?” Wilde says after a good minute of silence, looking from the roaring flames back to Zolf. Sasha gets up and goes to dry her hair by the fire; the weather around the ports has been awful lately. Zolf stares into the flames in surprise.

//

Zolf Smith was a cleric. Zolf Smith dreams of a new ship. Zolf Smith finds a team, full of people who need healing, the kind he can now provide. Zolf Smith has hope.

[honestlyfrance]

just feel; let’s exist

ship: sam/bucky

warnings: hurt/comfort, suicidal implications

summary:

“Where are you, Sam?” Bucky whispered, dragging his hand on Sam’s back, rubbing careful circles to ease the tension in his man’s muscles.

Sam shuddered at the touch, murmuring, “I don’t know,”

or

Bucky tries to keep Sam grounded for the night.

—■—■—

We’d all like to know what’s it like living in the Avengers Mansion secluded in the vast forest, the same mansion that you could only reach with a rocky dirt path, the same one where it stretches with its landing strips and pools, the same one where it looked more like a castle lost in the 16th century than one in the 21st century, and the same one where the sunrises were almost as perfect as the ones in Wakanda. Despite this description, Sam Wilson would tell you it was a noisy place, always full of fights and silent conversations—other times it’s a game of cat and mouse on who can eat the last platter of brownies before the super-soldiers can get to them. 

Everyone wanted to know what it felt like to live at the top of the world, unbothered and untethered. Not even touched by the weather, god gifted and forever immaculate: What does heaven feel like? They’ll say it tastes like copper blood, everlasting and stained. Others would say that heaven does not exist, and it’s hell on earth in the Avengers Compound; constant tension in the hallways, there’s always a reason for thunder to break through the walls and shatter the mirrors. It doesn’t sound like heaven, and maybe it shouldn’t be called as such.

Most nights it did feel like heaven on earth, when the room was just the right cold, the water pressure was just right, and the hallways were peaceful as it can be on a Thursday, it’s almost as if you were on top of the world. Damned those who think not, it was better when it was empty and vast as it should always be. 

It was always so full of life, and other times it was full of sorrow, resentfulness, and even, death.

This was one of those nights, the nights when Sam feels decayed and broken to the bone , almost numb at the overriding sensation throughout his body. It should’ve been illegal to feel this way, empty and vulnerable to even air, feeling as if you may crumble at the very touch of kindness. It shouldn’t be like this, but it always has to be; c'est la vie. What can anyone do?

Sam sat on the rounded couch in the vast living area. It had high ceilings, two chandeliers hanging precariously with its heavy diamonds and crystals; the couch was in an unlevel flooring, shaped for the large rounded velvet couch; the moonlight was streaming in the drawn open French windows that reached the arches of the walls; the rose bushes were in full bloom in view of the windows, full and lovely; the TV screen was sat atop a long desk, decorated with picture frames of the members of the Avengers all smiling and serious; the room was dim lit except for the moonlight, and there’s an uneasiness in the room. It was nearing midnight, and Sam didn’t make any plans to go back to bed.

Everything seemed to swallow him whole, and the vastness was only eating at his sides, bringing him down just to build him back up again with hope; it’s a sickening plot to take him down but his mind was almost peeling at the seams, and there’s a need to kill his overwhelmed senses before dawn, because there’s a ticking in his head that he had interpreted as a ticking bomb that would implode him and his thoughts when the sun would rise.

It’s saddening, how the world could beat him down into a pulp, taking his mentality and sensibility. The world has stripped him down to the bone and left his soul to burst into flames, an open-to-all show for the world to see. This is your Captain America! and you’ve let him burn to ashes! The world has left him to drown like an Icarus, burnt to a crisp and broken like glass. Nothing could ever piece him back together except for death, and even then it wouldn’t be the same. There’ll be an aftertaste in his mouth that would taste like gunfire and carcasses, and he wouldn’t be able to wash that foul taste without burying himself six-feet-under.

In the silence of the mansion and the dimness of the night, it’s here that he let himself daze into nothingness, feeling the void wrap itself into his bones, etching his fate with a pen-knife and salt, embracing his wounds as if the Mona Lisa to its Louvre. Sam lets himself decay with the stars, and if his fate leads him into his bed, then so be it; he’s lived long enough, won’t that mean he’d die short enough?

The silence seemed to ring in his ears, and there’s an ache in his chest he couldn’t cater to; it seemed too far away for him to reach, and if it was close enough for his fingers to grasp, it would turn futile. He would let it be; who’s going to tell him otherwise? There’s not a person in the world who decided to let Sam thrive, and even if they did, it was obviously not enough. Sam knew his worth, but did he know this could save him? Months of spiraling into the void, Sam has finally recollected and called himself “extinct.” Reminiscing would lead him nowhere, and the happy thoughts he had clutched onto had become stone; Sam did know his worth, but it only became his enemy.

Sam knew what it meant to know things and had felt things to conflict it, in the end burying himself in his own grave from the pressure of the world. Life has offered him endless tragedies and he has offered nothing but service, ruthlessly nice and angelic to the halo and wings, and it’d be a shame to have him drown in Atlas and the world’s burdens, but that’s what people make him do; stripped down to “support” and “partner” all in one, the world will forever see him in this facade.

As the ache in his chest began to sear him, Sam suppressed his cries to beg mercy at the world; he’s been abused to the bone that he’d let himself get down on his knees to beg for a sliver of mercy from the world. There’s tears rolling down his cheeks as he gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw at every sensation he felt. There was the need to numb himself, and he’d do that even if he has to physically hurt himself, to ache at the skin— yes, maybe that would work…

Footsteps approach Sam, breaking his soliloquies. Sam was left with ragged breaths, wiping his tears away with his bare hands when Bucky Barnes had plopped down right beside him, invading his personal space. Bucky was panting, wiping his forehead with a face towel before facing Sam with a splitting grin; it disappeared when Bucky saw the red in Sam’s eyes, and so Bucky immediately gave the man some space.

“Hey,” Bucky gently spoke, his hands wringing in between his thighs, “You— You don’t have to say anything,” he put on a small smile for Sam, but the man only sniffled, turning into convulsive sobs, “Do you want me to leave? I can give you more space. Do you want me to stay? I have some, uh, few ideas to get your mind off things…”

Sam turned to the rough fabric of the couch for comfort, crying into it as he choked on his sobs. Bucky sat beside the man, resting his chin on his crossed arms on the backrest of the couch; he had fear glinting in his eyes as he watched one of the strongest men he knew break down in pieces. There’s an unmistakable anguish in the air, one that brittles the strong with crashing waves, and Bucky feared for it.

“What do you need right now, Sam,” Bucky whispered into the darkness, and there’s a softness in his tone that just breaks Sam even more.

Sam looked up from his arms, a glare burying Bucky to the ground as he says, “Don’t treat me like I’m fragile,”

Bucky took a double-take, but nonetheless nodded carefully, afraid he’d hurt Sam even more. There’s an unspoken rule about comforting someone: Don’t hurt them even more . Bucky stood up, arms in awkward positions as Sam went back sniffling into his arms. Bucky’s heartstrings chimed to the tune of a love song, one that sings just for Sam; there’s now the only goal he had in mind: make Sam happy .

“Everyone’s fragile, Sam,” Bucky whispered, his voice barely above a murmur, but Sam must’ve heard it, because he stopped his whimpers and stayed robotically still, “Their brokenness only depends on how people handle them,”

Sam looked up, his lips twisted as his eyes searched for something in Bucky. “Stay,” he whimpered.

Bucky warily comes back in his seat, Sam inching towards the warmth of Bucky. Bucky wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist as the man leaned into Bucky’s body, nestling his head on Bucky’s chest. They lied down like this for minutes long, feeling each other’s breathing blend into each other. Bucky tries to even his breathing, already fearing the way his own heart beats deafeningly into the night; does Sam hear the fear and anxiety Bucky feels for him revibrate in his chest, or was Sam too deep into his thoughts to feel anything outside of him?

Bucky planted a soft and gentle kiss on the top of Sam’s head, and Sam instinctively groaned at the action; Sam’s body reacted by burying himself deeper into Bucky, as if it was still possible. If anything, they were practically connected into each other, atoms sharing and merging with one another they wouldn’t be surprised if they had melted into each other's souls by dawn.

Dawn .

Sam lifted his head, and Bucky whimpered at the loss of heat. Sam set his hands on Bucky’s knees as he blinked at the darkness, trying to figure out the murky shapes in the living area; he almost jumped when he saw something move in the darkness, only to realize it was Natasha Romanoff’s cat, Liho, moving around by the carpet. Bucky watched the back of Sam’s head, his eyebrows knitted together as he tried to decipher Sam. It seemed like everyday that Sam was jumpy and spaced out, almost like an astronaut from the many times he’s been into the void — Bucky just wanted to bring him back down with him on Earth.

“Where are you, Sam?” Bucky whispered, dragging his hand on Sam’s back, rubbing careful circles to ease the tension in his man’s muscles.

Sam shuddered at the touch, murmuring, “I don’t know,”

Liho is now on the other end of the couch joined by the other cats, Alpine, Goose, and Figaro; so that’s what those menaces do at night.

Bucky sighed, bringing back his grip on Sam’s shoulder, easing out the ache of the world out of him; if it was only possible. Bucky wished it was that easy, because Sam didn’t deserve an inch of this bullcrap, however the world seemed fit, angels just don’t need the burden of Atlas as if it wasn’t from different religions in the first place. If there was just a magic word Bucky could say to bring Sam back down on base, he'd make a song out of it— Anything. Anything that would give back Sam his control, Bucky would pick it out from hell itself if it could bring Sam peace and comfort.

“Why do I bother,” Sam murmured, his voice raspy and ragged.

Bucky hesitantly set his forehead on Sam’s back, breathing in the scent of him; he exhaled, saying, “We bother because we care,” he breathed in once more, his eyes shut closed, “Sometimes we care too much to feel anything. Which is why we rest… Feel… Breathe in…”

“I know,” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed, staring into the void of darkness as his idle hands grew sweatier and colder, “I… I can’t seem to do anything right now…”

“Then let’s just exist, Sam. Come back down for you.”

Bucky rested his head right on Sam’s back, eyes upwards as he heard the mewling of the four cats approaching them. They both chuckled at that, and for a moment, the world stopped spinning and had rested just for the two of them. Sam lied back down, bringing Bucky down with him; Sam curled himself deeper into Bucky’s chest as the other rested his feet on top of the mahogany coffee table before them. Liho finds a spot between Bucky’s legs and Alpine is soon behind him; the other two cats, Bucky thinks, should scram before the two of them do anything more.

They sat down for a moment, overwhelmed by the silence to move, and it feels nice to have the weight be lifted from one’s chest; there’s a pang of pain to breathe but there’s also the love that revibrates within the heart, and it blares so loudly between these two it shouldn’t be hard enough to stay oblivious to this. 

“You don’t have to talk,” Bucky whispered in Sam’s ear; Sam hummed in acknowledgement, “I know. I know it’s hard, and it’s fine to be fragile,” he rubbed circles on Sam’s back with his palm, then his fingers, feeling Sam sigh deeply into his chest, “One thing I’ve learned is that… You should just exist. Alone or together, any is fine; just breathe and feel, Sam. The pain leaves like a bandaid,”

It’s probably near two in the morning when Natasha emerges from her bedroom on the other side of the mansion to retrieve Liho, scooping up the noir feline from Bucky’s legs. In exchange, Natasha had brought the two a blanket, and apparently Bucky had requested to bring his laptop and secret stash of champagne. No sooner had she left with her cat, Goose had followed as well, meowing all the way down the hallway.

“What are you doing?” Sam drawled out, suppressing a grin as Bucky laid out the blanket around them.

Bucky had set down his laptop on his lap, opening up a browser and going incognito; Sam watched Bucky enter a website that had too many ads for one’s liking, entering a movie title that had only disappeared from the cinemas just yesterday. The movie began to play and Bucky raised the volume, Alpine setting her paws on his arm as he did this. Chuckling, Sam popped open the champagne with surprising ease, laughing fully as some of it spilled; Figaro crawled on top of his legs, and Sam had run a hand across his cat’s fur as Bucky snuggled deeper into the duvet.

They took turns drinking the alcohol straight from the bottle, and no sooner had Bucky seen a smile form on Sam’s face, all gap-tooth and wide, it was too beautiful to miss, even in the darkness. Everything fell back into place, but there’s a new atmosphere surrounding them as explosions and guns blared from the speakers, their two cats purring in the background making everything harder to move, and their breathing was too close to each other to ignore.

They didn’t know who was the first one to lean into the kiss, but they both knew they wanted this. Long and languid  kisses ensued between them, and Bucky’s advice ringed in their heads: Just feel , and they did; they felt each other’s skin against each other as their hands found their way to cup the other man’s cheek and bring them closer with a hand on the neck. They rested against each other’s foreheads as they breathed heavily, eyes still closed as they let the taste of the other be ingrained into their heads, never wanting to forget what love finally tasted like: it tasted like champagne turned into wine and the living room into an abandoned movie theatre, and it felt ten times colder but they were too warm in their hearts to complain.

They stayed like this for another movie, just existing together and alone, and if the world has decided that enough was enough and that they should break apart, just know this: though they were both fragile, in each other’s presence they felt too strong to even believe they were weak in the first place. Dawn had just arrived, and they could say they’ve stayed for another day.

[dickwheelie]

I dont know if you're still doing requests but.., space pirates or just pirates au jmart 👉👈 i lov ur writing i think i might melt every time i read you

ohhh this was a fun prompt! it ended up being a little more space than pirates, but at least the jmart is there! thank you for the kind words and I hope you enjoy :))

___________

Jon didn't consider himself much of a hero. He had none of the necessary prerequisites, such as physical prowess, quick thinking under pressure, bravery, or a charming personality. He didn't even have the functionally useless but favorable bonus of dashing good looks. He may have been the captain on board a stolen spaceship, but that didn't mean he was particularly pirate-like himself. He entrusted the majority of the pirating to his small crew, who he privately considered much more capable than he was.

Tim and Sasha, he thought, now those two were hero types. They had the charisma, the skill, the bravery--they even had the good looks. Jon was perfectly fine with letting them take the wheel, as it were, in a crisis situation.

Such as the situation they were in right now.

The SS Magnus had been tearing across space, scanning for large, cushy vessels to pillage, when the mayday alert had sounded. Sasha, who worked communications, said that the mayday had come from an even smaller ship that was hurtling, out of control, through open space. The Magnus was the nearest vessel.

Tim took the pilot's seat and rushed to follow the downed ship's signal, but by the time he'd reached it, the ship had broken itself apart, leaving nothing but shredded metal in its wake. There were no signs of survivors in the wreckage.

Jon, Tim and Sasha shared a collective sigh of regret. They all knew the risks of space travel when they'd decided to become pirates, but it was never pleasant to be reminded of what could happen if a certain combination of things went wrong. Jon stared bleakly out of the cockpit window, then told Tim and Sasha that they might as well start scanning the wreckage for what they could find.

And then something bounced off the cockpit window.

"Was that--?" Jon said, dumbfounded.

"I think so," said Tim.

"Someone in a suit," Sasha said. "From the crash!"

And suddenly, Jon was the captain of a rescue mission.

Jon rushed towards the airlock at the aft of the ship, Tim and Sasha close behind him. When he reached it he could see outside the window the lone survivor, in their spacesuit, clinging for dear life to a handle on the side of the ship's hull.

Jon didn't pause to think. By the time Tim and Sasha arrived at the airlock, Jon was already suited up, and was about to open the innermost door.

"Jon!" Sasha called. "What are you doing?"

"They can't hold on forever," Jon said, "I have to grab them now!"

Once more he looked out the window at the survivor, trying to see beyond their blacked out visor, and caught a glimpse of a pair of wide, frightened eyes.

"It's okay!" Jon said, knowing the survivor couldn't hear him, but hoping they could read his lips. "I'm coming to rescue you! Don't, er, go anywhere!"

Jon put on his helmet and stepped into the airlock, hooking a long tether to his spacesuit. He let the airlock depressurize before opening the outermost door, floating out into the vacuum of space. Holding fast to the tether, he dragged himself out onto the hull, and found himself practically visor-to-visor with the lone astronaut.

Jon reached out his hand, and hoping they could see through his visor, said, "Take my hand! It'll be okay, I'm tethered to the ship!"

He couldn't be sure if the survivor had understood, but they did reach out their free hand, and for a moment their gloves strained towards one another until finally Jon caught hold of theirs, gripping it securely across the palm and wrist. He used the tether to pull them both backwards, towards the open airlock, and after a moment the survivor let go of the hull and clasped their other hand onto Jon's, letting him guide them safely back into the ship.

As soon as they were both inside and the airlock had pressurized again, Jon removed his helmet, breathing heavily with adrenaline, and watched as the survivor did the same.

Their hands moved shakily to detach their helmet, revealing dark curls and a brown face, covered in freckles and with a flushed, elated expression. The survivor looked to be a man, and a handsome one at that, though Jon refused to linger on that particular thought. At once he was at the survivor's side, checking for injuries, though with his suit on there wasn't much to see.

"Are you alright?" Jon asked him, though the question seemed silly considering how the man's day had been going so far.

"You . . . you saved me," the lone survivor said breathlessly, his eyes landing on Jon's. He had a nice voice, Jon thought absentmindedly.

"Yes," Jon said, not knowing what else to say.

The survivor gave Jon a beaming smile. "My hero."

"Um," said Jon. His stomach did something weird, and fluttery.

"I thought for sure I was dead. I'm pretty strong, but I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to hold on before spinning off into empty space. But you rescued me. Just like you said you would."

"I . . . try to keep my promises, yes," Jon said, hoping he wasn't blushing. "Who are you? What happened to your ship? Could there be anyone else alive out there?"

"Oh, right, of course. Sorry, my manners are a little rusty," said the survivor, with an awkward little laugh. "My name's Martin. Martin K Blackwood. It was just me on the ship. I was on a solo delivery run. The company I work for, Solus, they've been cutting down on personnel lately, so most shipping runs are solo now. Which means twenty-four-hour shifts at the wheel, minimum. It sucks, but it pays the bills. Or . . . it did." The survivor--Martin--stared out the window at the remains of his ship. "I'm still not sure what caused the engine to overheat and blow like that. I wouldn't be surprised if Solus weren't up to date on their safety checks. I managed to get my suit on and eject just in time, but then I was sure I was just gonna drift through space forever and die alone anyway."

Martin looked back at Jon, gratitude in his eyes. "But then you rescued me."

Jon wasn't going to be able to keep withstanding Martin's adoring looks if he kept this up. "I'm Jon," he said, trying to change the subject. "Captain of the SS Magnus. Illicit captain, rather. We're pirates."

"Pirates?" Martin's eyebrows shot up, and he looked Jon up and down. "You don't . . . seem like a pirate to me."

"We're basically only pirates by a technicality," Jon said. "We pillage the ships of the rich to give to those in need. Food, medical supplies, power sources, anything useful, really. Occasionally we'll steal a vessel, like this one, but that doesn't happen very often. There's only three of us, at the moment, so we make do however we can."

"Wow," Martin said. "So you're telling me--"

"I know," said Jon, "it's not all that impressive when you--"

"--I was rescued by actual pirates? And their swashbuckling captain is my hero?"

"O-Oh, well, um, that's not--" Jon was definitely blushing now.

Martin laughed. "Do you know how many romance novels I've read the back covers of that I'm putting to shame right now? Twenty-year-old me would be so jealous."

"I--I am not swashbuckling," Jon said, at a loss for anything else to say.

"Of course not." Martin grinned at him before his expression grew more somber. "Seriously, though, thank you. For saving me. I really had given up hope, for a moment there."

Jon nodded. "Of course. You're, ah, very welcome."

They shook hands, and Jon turned to the inner airlock door. "My crew are in there, waiting for us. Tim and Sasha. They're very good. We wouldn't have even found you and your ship without them."

"Then I'd better thank them, too," said Martin. "And--you said it was just the three of you right now, yeah?"

Jon tilted his head at him, unsure where Martin was going with this. "Yes, it is. But I assure you, we're a good team, we'll get you back to your home, or anywhere you'd like to go, safe and sound."

"That's sort of the problem," Martin said. "I . . . don't really have anywhere to go back to. If I go back to the company, they'll find out their ship was destroyed, and my insurance definitely doesn't cover that. If I go home, they'll find me just as easily and chase me down until I've paid. So . . ." Martin gave Jon a meaningful look. "Right about now would be a pretty good time for a career change."

Something clicked in Jon's head. He smiled at Martin, nodding sagely. "Yes, I see. I think we may be able to help you out with that, Martin." He thought for a moment. "You said you flew deliveries for Solus . . . how are you as a pilot?"

Martin grinned at him. "Good. Very good."

"Any moral qualms about stealing from the rich and giving to the poor?"

"None whatsoever."

"Then I don't see why we shouldn't bring you on board," Jon said, returning Martin's smile. "The SS Magnus has been looking for a new pirate to join her crew, and I think you'd fit right in."

Jon might not have been much of a hero, but he had managed to pull a man out of the way of certain death that day, and then bring him onto his crew, which had to count for something. At the very least, Jon thought as he introduced Tim and Sasha to their new pilot, the way Martin looked at him made him feel like the sort of person who really had done something extraordinary.

[warbra]

Star Skipper Chapter 1: Arrival

The hard plastic seats of the transport vessel never felt quite right to me. My parents were both in major positions back home on the colony world of Atlantis, meaning that I got used to the underwater trams of the world. The trams however had the same plastic seating as the starliner I was on. They were cheap-feeling things like you could break them by just sitting on them the wrong way, and most of them had little cushioning removed or so worn in from years of mistreatment that they were the equivalent of a hard square of impacted foam. I brought out My datapad, trying to find a comfortable position to read the messages and books I had saved on it before departing from home.

Being a recent graduate student from the University of Tuition Beau, like so many of my colleagues was now off to find a job, however, a bachelor’s in historical preservation of Media and historical artifacts doesn’t get you very far these days. Fortunately for him, or unfortunately depending on how Beau felt on any particular day, my father knew many people out in the commonwealth who would be willing to give little Beau a job. However, he did not expect to return home one night from an evening of drinking and celebrating to be told by my father that he would be shipped across human space to work as a subcontractor for a small shipping company.  And what stung the most to me, was that my father had already bought the tickets for the transport he found himself on now, fighting off sleep deprivation and that damn plastic chair.

“Attention all passengers,” came a squeak from the pa system above “this is your captain speaking. We will be approaching the Deux Drive Yards in approximately 30 minutes, we will be exiting our jump here within the next five minutes, please fasten your seatbelts and prepare for deceleration. Thank you.” Beau couldn’t help but let out a groan, Space travel naturally made him uneasy. He couldn’t tell if it was a feeling that if something went wrong he would perish within a few moments or how the Jumps of the ship simply turned my stomach upside down. Either way, it felt strange to me, he grew up dealing with rocky waves and the constant fear of a mechanical failure causing water to crash down upon him, either way, he quickly refastened my seatbelt and looked out the tiny reinforced window at the galaxy moving at speeds he could not comprehend. Small transport ships like the one he was on had operated for many years and could take widely different times to travel between systems, the travel between New Atlantis to the Deux Systems took about 2 weeks in total, however, it was originally going to be only 10 days. Thankfully however he only had to share a room with a businessman who was much more interested in selling him the idea of mining company's shares than conversing like a normal person.

As the ship began to drop out of its jump he could see the space outside the window go from a blinding white light back to a more spotted black color that he was so used to seeing back home. Slowly the ship decelerated and began to maneuver so that the passengers on the starboard side could see the final destination. As the sip rolled the system began to come into view, a series of balls of gas orbiting the Type B blue star. And sitting there in about the middle of the system lay the crown of the system The blazing hot desert of Deux, and surrounding that the famous Deux drive yards. Unlike most of the Shipyards back in UN-controlled space the drive yard was gargantuan. Several dozen rings orbited the planet, split into 4 different orbiting distances with each distance holding a different purpose. While Beau was still upset that he was here now, he couldn’t help but smile like a kid, to him the orbiting drive yard reminded him of a big rubber band ball. “beauty ain’t she” The man who was sharing the room with beau finally said. “No matter how many times I come back here I'm always dumbstruck by her like I was that first time.” “Yeah, you could say that '', Beau said, enamored by how advanced the colonies were compared to back home. “Never been planetside myself, but the DDY is all you really need when you come here. She has everything you could ever need from high-mark restaurants to entire shopping centers, heck if I remember last time I was here right I walked past a used ship dealership” The man said, not knowing if Beau was listening. As the ship begins to approach both Beau and the man’s jaws drop upon seeing one of the crown jewels of the Commonwealth, the behemoth. This ship lived up to her name, 30 kilometers long, and was designed to kill by the number of guns visible on the ship.

The intercom crackled to life and brought both Beau and the man back to reality as the captain’s voice came through. “Attention passengers, we have been given docking clearance for Deux Drive Yards Docking bay C-41, we will be docking in approximately 5 minutes, local time is 20:35 GMT, 31:35 PLT. We hope you enjoyed your trip with Trans-Light Transport solutions. The seatbelt sign finally came off, meaning that Beau could finally grab my belongings and leave soon. Fortunately for him, he only brought two duffle bags and a personal carry bag for both my datapad and journal. After a few minutes of checking for the rest of my personal belongings, he may have left; he both heard and felt the unmistakable sound of the ship finally docking with the station, meaning he could finally leave. 

While not the type to be rude, Beau still left as soon as he was allowed. Being stuck with only old videos and the same person as the only form of contact for 2 weeks did its toll on him and he made my way to the airlock without even saying goodbye to the man who he had become so fibular. As I made my way to the airlock the air started to smell less recycled than it has the past few days, still not like fresh air, but very close to it. As the fight attendants helped people with the gangplank I felt my stomach drop again, not from how I was going from one gravity generator to another onboard the station, but the fact that I would now need to find both the company my father had shackled me to for the next 5 years, as well as the ship, which meant I needed to deal with a whole new group of people. I was barely able to survive being close to the man I shared the room with, I feared having to deal with a crew now. As I took my first steps on the station segment, I went from having a bad feeling in my gut, to being downright terrified.

[starksvixen]

Don’t Belong Here (kenobidaughter!reader)

Masterlist

Summary: After being saved by a group of Mandalorians similar to Din, you begin to realize that your a puzzle piece that doesn’t seem to fit...

Warnings: Incredible amount of angst, lil’ bit of fluff, tension left unresolved

The soft babbling from the floating bassinet that follows you is like water against the fire that burns at your nerves. Looking down at the Child, you send a soft smile towards his wide eyes. How much does he understand of what is happening around him, you wonder. If he is fifty years old, he must realize the tension between you and his adoptive father. Of the situation at hand. 

You told Din that this whole deal didn’t seem right. Meeting a seedy character at the docks felt like a trap. But in typical Mandalorian fashion, he bulls ahead, not caring for your opinion.

“You’re a Jedi, you’re always suspicious,” he had said. 

Those words had unexpectedly wounded you deep, forcing you into silence. Instead of the pain, you focus on the subtle tug of your saber trying to break it’s bonds to your leg. The forceful tug of the holster digging into skin as you jump onto the ship, keeping your cloak close to your body. 

The seamen kept eyeing you, one even trying to pull your cloak away from your body which earned them a harsh glare. Apparently that was their breaking point. 

In a matter of seconds, you had been shoved into the pool of water you were standing beside. A glint of beskar is the last thing you see before water swallows you whole. 

Your lungs expand to their maximum as you hold what air you have left deep within them. Pulling out your lightsaber, you quickly ignited it, coming face to face to a beast with no face. With what strength you had left over, you swing, slashing it’s face almost in two. But the force you used in the swing caused what little breath you had left to escape into the depths. On instinct, you breathe in, water crashing into your lungs.

Suddenly two hands grab onto your shoulders and lift you out of the water. As you are tossed to the ground, your lightsaber flies from your hand. But the hit of landing on the ground helps you to cough out the burning liquid, your entire body vibrating from adrenaline. 

All you can focus on is the heaving of your chest, the fresh release of oxygen replacing water, and a rough hand on your back trying to bring you back to reality. 

Swiftly, you are pulled into the arms of the Mandalorian as he slowly rubs your back in secret to calm your heaves. Looking up, you see three other Mandalorians stand before you, one helmet standing out from all of them. You remembered it in photos your father had showed you during his time in the Clone Wars.

With the smooth caress of the Force flowing through your fingertips, you call the saber into your hands, extinguishing it.

“Interesting, your lightsaber didn’t short out,” the familiar helmet speaks. 

“My father showed me how to make it so, Bo - Katan,” you say sharply.

The armored warrior stiffens before pulling off her helmet, revealing the person who used to be the main character to your bedtime stories. Shakily you stand, putting the saber in it’s rightful place. 

“You must be a Obi - Wan’s daughter. Makes sense you would be raised as a Jedi.” 

“I’m no Jedi...” 

“Then why do you wield their saber?”  

“How about you keep your nose out of business that isn’t yours?” 

“Enough,” Din steps in between both of you. “Whatever family quarr-”

“We aren’t family,” you both say in unison. 

“Her father killed my sister,” Bo - Katan reminds. 

“And you’re the reason why Mom left her Mandalorian claim behind,” you growl. 

Din silently looks between the two of you, unsure of what to say at this point. He eventually turns to Bo - Katan, questioning why she had willingly taken her helmet off and the Creed. 

You force yourself to take a few steps away, picking up the Child and smirking down at him.

“Had enough excitement for one day?”

He yawns and nods softly. It forces a chuckle out of your chest as you wrap him up in what was left of your cloak that lay on the ground below you. Suddenly, you feel an arm wrap around your waist and blast off the boat, leaving what had happened behind. 

“What did they say to you back there, Din?” you whisper softly, still holding the Child close. 

You follow close to him as you walk through the docks at a late hour. His shoulders tense even more then usual, the soft cracking of leather bending to his tightened fists. 

“They said I’m a part of a cult, a Child of the Watch.”

You nod softly. 

“So what? What if you have different thoughts then them? You are a Mandalorian, you will obey your Creed. Just like I’m a Gray Jedi and I listen to my own code that is different then that of the Jedi Council.”

“It’s not like that...” he sighs. “You couldn’t understand.” 

Another deep wound etches its way into your heart, following the same pattern as the one before. With a sharp glare at the tin head, you hand him the Child. 

“What are you-”

“I’m leaving, that’s what I’m doing, Din.” 

“Not so fast...” another voice enters. 

“Dank farrik...” you mumble, slowly reaching down to grab your lightsaber. 

Someone steps up right beside you, red tentacles decorating his chin as he glares at you and Mando. 

“You killed me brother,”

“Let us pass,” Din warns. 

Your fingers wrap around your lightsaber tightly, your thumb inching it’s way towards the activation button. Deep down, you knew this would end up with some dead bodies. And you didn’t seem to care. 

“I don’t think you understand...you killed my brother. Now, I’ll kill your pet.”

When the Kid whimpers from behind you, you snap. Activating your lightsaber, you slice the tentacled freak in front of you in half without hesitation. With each incoming shot from his lackies, you block them with the twirl of your saber. 

The sound of thrusters ends from behind you and a rain of gunfire soon follows. Once it all dies down, the only tentacled freak left standing is the ringleader. 

“He didn’t kill your brother, I did,” Bo - Katan says from behind you before shooting him down. 

With a sharp sigh, you return your saber to it’s holster, turning to look at the gaggle of Mandalorians before you. 

“You fight like he did,” Bo - Katan says, the first nice thing she has said to you yet. 

You nod in response, gently taking the Child Din had extended towards you. 

“At least let us buy you a drink?” 

You let them lead you towards a bar, Child in hand, as they talk about God knows what. All you can focus on is how stuck out you seem. The group of warriors ahead of you seemed, for all intents and purposes, normal. You were the person with a lightsaber strapped to their thigh. The one with only clothes guarding their body, not armor. Once you had entered the crowded building, it all became so simple. 

You don’t belong here.

From your seat beside Din, you handed the Kid off to him and collected empty glasses. Walking to the bar, you get them refilled and send them back towards the group after tipping one of the waitresses. After that, you walk towards the front doors, not forgetting to look back at your Beskar clad lover before leaving completely. 

You wander around the streets alone, making sure to keep quiet so nobody targets you. The docks were easy to find after your last adventure, and paying for transport even easier. Many of them were looking for anything to spare for their families. 

As you count out what little credits you had on hand, the soft clank of armor echoes behind you. With a sigh, you hand over the credits to the transport captain, saying a soft thank you in his dialect, before turning around. And there he was, Din without his Kid, his hand on one hip as he stood perfectly still. 

“Don’t make this harder then it needs to be, Mando,” you say.

“You know that’s not my name,” 

“And if I say it, I won’t be able to go,”

“Then don’t,” 

“What was it that you said back there? Oh, that’s right, that I don’t understand. Well here you go Mando, now you don’t understand,” 

“Then make me,” 

“This is not a one way street! You don’t get to do that...”

A horn atop the ship you are taking blows, alerting its passengers to it’s five minute take off warning. With a harsh sigh, you turn around to grab your small bag that you had strapped across you.

The strap proves as a disadvantage, making it easier for Mando to grab onto you and pull you closer to him. Your walls come tumbling down and you know if you don’t pull away now you won’t be able too at all. 

“I don’t belong here...” you mumble, trying to pull away from his grasp. “You have your clan here, I don’t belong.”

“You’re wrong,” Mando says so quiet his transcoder couldn’t translate. Instead you’re met with the muffled version. 

“Din...” you say softly. 

“You belong with me,” 

His words force your gaze upwards, surprise fully etched on your face. Before you can respond, he does:

“Go protect the Kid, I have to complete this mission and then we’re getting out of here,” 

His hands leave your biceps as he tells you the Kid’s location. Then he disappears into crowd, leaving you confused but hopeful. 

Tag ListL (leave a comment on the Masterlist to be added) 

toribentleyva  mikariell95 edgy-wedgy-poo  tillytheslytherin  irishfaulk97 supergingerlocks  aeryn--sun  nedxwynert  forbidden-darkness

[lucisfavoritedemon]

Crossed Oceans of Time

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Y/n always thought her hope was lost till an unexpected call from an old friend has her traveling across time to save the man she thought was once lost in an ocean of time.

Warnings: angst, fluffy fluff, cursing, hopelessness (idk why I make the reader so depressed)

Word Count: 4122

A/N: This is written for @sweeterthanthis Quote Me On It 6k Challenge. The prompt I chose was “I have crossed oceans of time to find you.” -Dracula. This story takes place during the events of End Game. I have incorporated the quote into the story. It will be bolded AND italicized. All mistakes are mine. 

Enjoy!

Everything I had seen had been a blur up to this point. My life flashed by so quick I never had a chance to process it all. Originally born in 1922, I never believed I would be able to see the day when technology would thrive. Here I am in 2023, 101 years later seeing the miracle of technology. 

I am a super soldier. One of the first experiments before Steve Rogers, aka Captain America. I volunteered myself to Dr. Erskine's experimentation, so he could develop a better, more safe serum. 

I fought by Rogers' side in many battles, including the one that would take his best friend. There is something you do not know though, of me and Sergeant Barnes. 

I had fallen for him. Not just a usual school girl crush, no. It was full blown love. Like my body had been struck by lightning the moment I laid eyes on him. 

I could sit and talk for hours about Bucky, and how much he meant to me, but that would be pointless. Bucky was gone and yet I couldn't move on. Something was keeping my heart from finding love again. 

Steve and I fought one last time together to defeat Red Skull. We thought it was the end for us, that we would be with Bucky again, but fate is a cruel mother thing. Oddly enough, the serum in our veins stopped our bodies from dying. It preserved us and helped us stay alive. 

When I woke up, all I remembered was crashing the ship. I had no recollection of anything else after. That's when we found out we were in the year 2012. For 70 years we were on ice. Poor Steve was heartbroken about Peggy, and I couldn't help but wish I was with Bucky. 

Time flew by like it was nothing, and all I felt I did was stand still and watch it go by. Steve and I had parted ways after we got back. I was hired to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. which I didn’t mind till in 2014 it all came crashing down. Almost quite literally. S.H.I.E.L.D. had HYDRA growing right under its nose. I was again left alone with nothing but a shattered heart.

Nick Fury tried to help me get back onto my feet but I wanted nothing to do with him, or anyone anymore. I was too heartbroken to even think about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life. I really just wanted my Bucky back. That’s all I could ever ask of the world. 

Five years ago, something happened. I felt like my life had fallen apart again. All the friends I had attempted to make, all disappeared. I wasn’t the only one who lost people they loved and cared for. I finally felt maybe other people out there were feeling the same way I did.

Here in 2023, I have been without the love of my life for almost 80 years. I kept asking why I got to live while he was taken from the world so soon. I never got the answer to that rhetorical question, asked to no one in particular. That was till I got a peculiar call from an unknown number. I answered it hoping it would be the reaper I hoped to be greeted by to take me to the love of my life.

“Y/n?” It was a voice I hadn’t heard in almost a decade. One I thought I’d probably never hear again either.

“Steve.” I sounded cheery for once since I had been out of the ice.

“Hey. How are you doing? I know it’s been years since we talked, but I wanted to see if you wanted to go for a drive? Just you and me.” He asked, and I could tell he was smiling some on the other end.

“That sounds lovely, Steve. I’ve been hanging in there. Since S.H.I.E.L.D. and the whole HYDRA thing, I’ve just been laying low.”

“Where are you living now?” Steve queried.

“I’m living in Brooklyn actually. In my old neighborhood. 

“You used to live in Brooklyn before the war?”

“Yep. I actually lived above the antique shop. You know the one.”

“Yeah. I didn’t know we lived so close, yet we never met you till Erskine introduced us.”

“Yeah. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel the way I do now…” I sounded melancholy.

“I’m not too far from where you are. Meet where the antique shop used to be. We can talk more then, I have something I think you would love to hear.”

“Okay. I’ll meet you there.” I said, and hung up quickly. I knew there was nothing he could have told me that would make me jump for joy. He couldn’t say anything that would make my smile come back. It was gone, and faded with time.

I met him where that antique shop used to be, and I could almost picture it all. The cobblestone streets, the kids playing baseball, the world used to be a different place back then. It’s not like it was anymore, and I wish that it kind of was. 

“Hey.” Steve smiled, walking up to me.

“Hi.” I gave a small smile, but he could tell I had sadness written all over my face.

“What’s wrong?” Concern spread across his face.

“Nothing. This is just how I smile now.”

“Whoever took away your beautiful, contagious smile is going to pay.”

“Time took my smile away.”

“”Come on. I want to talk to you about something.” His smile grew wider as he led me to his car. 

He opened the door for me, and I climbed in. I buckled up as he climbed into the driver’s seat. We headed out of the city, down the countryside. The scenery was beautiful, but I still couldn’t bring myself to start a conversation.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I have been for 11 years. What’s 40 more gonna do right?” I gave an extremely sad smile.

“Is this about Bucky?”

“There were so many times in my life where we could have met. Maybe just a year longer with him, and I would be able to move on, or maybe not. I was in love with him, Steve. The way I felt the night we first met, it was like everything in my life finally made sense. I felt like I had a purpose.”

“He’s actually the reason I wanted to talk to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was alive. I need your help getting him back.”

“What do you mean? That’s impossible. We both watched him die.”

“Remember when all those men were captured from the 107th, including Bucky, back in ‘43?”

“Yeah, and we went to rescue them.”

“Bucky was experimented on by Armin Zola. Turned into a super soldier himself.”

“Okay and?”

“Whatever Zola did to him, it helped him survive the fall.”

“So what I’m understanding is, you knew he was alive this entire time, and you’re just now telling me about it?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I need your help getting him back now.”

“Okay. You keep saying that, but if he is alive, why would we need to get him back?”

“Remember 5 years ago when half the earth’s population just vanished?”

“Yeah?”

“Bucky was part of that half.”

“And you think we can get him back?”

“I think we can bring back all the life lost 5 years ago. It requires us going back in time though.”

“Time travel? You’re promising time travel in a time where we thought flying cars were going to be a thing.”

“It’s possible though. We’ve tested it, and everything is up and working. We have all the dates in order, we just need the man power.”

“Alright, if it means bringing Bucky back, I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.”

Steve drove us to a huge building practically in the middle of nowhere. There I was greeted by a group of people, one of which I recognized from a brief meeting years ago. The others I didn’t know. I mean one man looked oddly familiar, but I could quite put my finger on where I had seen him before.

“Everyone, this is Y/n. She is an old friend of mine.” Steve introduced me.

“I may be old, but I sure don’t feel like it.”

“Join the club.” Steve chuckled.

“I’m Natasha. We met briefly in D.C. a few years back.” The woman I had recognized approached.

“Yes, I remember you. It’s nice to officially meet you on slightly good terms. While not being utterly terrified by a man with a metal arm.” I smiled slightly, trying to imagine how it would feel to see Bucky once more.

“So how do you two know each other?” The man that I swore looked familiar, spoke up.

“Steve and I fought together during the war.”

“Does that mean she also knew Barnes?” The man questioned.

“Yes. She did. In fact they were together for two years before HYDRA took him.”

“How does he know about Bucky?” I asked, growing concerned.

“It’s a long story.”

“I’m Tony Stark by the way.” The man spoke up, and everything was now coming together.

“I knew you looked familiar to me somehow. You look just like your father.”

“Yeah, well, join the club with everyone who says that.” Tony sounded irritated.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Y/n, it’s alright.” Steve spoke up before Tony could say anything.

He could probably tell I was freaking out. My goal was to help, not make things worse. I could tell by just opening my mouth, I was doing just that. Steve started to rub my back to calm me down.

“Is everything okay?” Natasha asked.

“She’s been through a lot. She didn’t even know Bucky was alive until a couple hours ago.” Steve replied.

“For so long I wished that something would happen so I could be back in his arms again. Now, I have a chance to see him again, and not in the afterlife. He is the man of my dreams, the love of my life. I have never felt this way about anyone before, and the fact that I have tried to move on, but couldn't just shows that I truly did love him.”

“Does she know about him?” Tony asked.

“Not about that. She doesn’t need to know.” Steve stated sternly.

“Know about what? Steve? What aren’t you telling me?”

“Stark, I agree with Steve. If she knew about him, her opinion of him may change.” Natasha interjected.

“She deserves to know the man she loved then will not be the man she is getting back.”

“What are you all going on about?”

“Barnes was the man with the metal arm you spoke of.” Tony blurted out.

“You’re wrong. Bucky would never hurt anyone. He was someone who put others before himself. He would never kill anyone.”

Steve just gave an angry look to Tony. I didn’t know who to believe. Natasha just gave me an apologetic look. I couldn’t read anyone, they all seemed to look angry or apologetic, and I didn;t know who to believe.

“Maybe the Barnes you knew wouldn’t, but over 70+ years, people change.” Tony stated before walking inside.

“Steve? Was Bucky really the man with the metal arm? If he was, I want to know. It won’t change how I feel. I just need to know, so I can help him when he comes back.”

“Yes. He was what the world knew as the Winter Soldier. He isn;t like that anymore. I promise, but he is broken and traumatized from what HYDRA did to him.”

“Understandable. Now let’s go get him and everyone else back.” I smiled, and walked inside. I didn’t have to fake one anymore. I was just happy that I finally had the chance to see Bucky again. That maybe seeing each other again could mend our souls a little bit.

Steve led me to a room where he told me to suit up. I threw on the suit laid out for me, and met the others on the main level. Steve handed me two little vials which he told me would help take me where I needed to be. He told me I was to stay with him to make sure nothing happened to me. I was perfectly okay with that.

We were all ready to find these stones. Steve showed me a picture of the stones him, Tony, Scott, and I were to be getting. I just wanted to get this over with, to be with Bucky once more. I have waited a long time for this moment, and I just couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Everyone ready?” Bruce asked.

“See you guys in a minute.” Natasha smiled.

We all shrunk down, and our groups went separate ways. I made sure to not lose sight of Steve as we landed in our desired time. We all started walking the tattered streets of New York City, and I knew where we had landed.

“Banner, you find the time stone, Stark and Lang, you two get the tesseract. I’ll get the scepter.” Steve directed.

“What about me?” I asked, curious what my task would be.

“You are staying right here. We’ll all meet right back here once we have secured our items.”

“Why am I here then if you don’t need me?”

“In case things go south.”

I roll my eyes, “fine. I’ll stay here.”

“Thank you.”

They all walk off, and I stay put where they told me to. I listen to them talking on comms to each other. They were pretty entertaining if I was being honest. That was until they started saying they lost the tesseract. Things looked hopeless now.

“What are we gonna do now? The tesseract is gone, and we don’t have any more of the capsules.” Scott paced.

“I have an extra capsule that will get me where I want to be. Please let me do this Steve?”

“Fine. I think I have an idea where you might be going. Just be careful okay?” He hands me something, “put it in here when you grab it.”

“I will. I promise I’ll be careful. I’ll see you guys when I have aquired the tesseract.” I smile.

I plug in the time and date that I wanted, and shrunk down traveling back to January 1945. The day Steve and I put the plane in the water. I remember seeing Red Skull holding it that day, right before he disappeared actually. Maybe that’s what Steve meant by ‘be careful’.

I headed straight to the hanger, and climbed inside. I hid until I knew it was safe to come out. Which meant waiting till Red Skull took off. I waited for Steve, and I to start fighting Red Skull. I came out and prepared to grab the tesseract. I had the special case Steve handed me before I left.

When Red Skull disappeared, and Steve and I went to man the ship, I grabbed the tesseract. I plugged in the date to head back, and shrunk down again, heading back to the correct timeline. I arrived as everyone else returned as well. I looked around to make sure everyone was there, but one person was missing.

“Clint, where’s Nat?” Bruce asked, looking at Clint.

“Barton, where is she?” Tony asked, being more stern.

“She’s gone...it should have been me.” He sounded so sad. I felt for him. I knew how it felt to lose someone I cared so much about.

They all gathered by the water mourning Natasha’s sacrifice. I let them have their moment. It wasn’t my place to be with them while they grieved. It just didn’t seem right, or fair to them. I sat in the lab waiting for them to come back, and assemble the gauntlet.

Steve walked in and sat next to me, “how did it go?”

“It went well. It was weird seeing Red Skull and you, and me. I think I managed well though. Why did you give me an extra capsule?”

“I figured you would go and help us, then I’d let you go and be with Bucky. Get the time you lost back.”

“That makes no sense if I lose him in the end anyways.”

“Maybe part of me hoped you would change his fate. That way you never lost him. You would never have to know what it was like to lose him.”

“That’s really sweet of you Steve, but I don’t think that would be right. For me or him.”

“I understand. I just want you to know that your pain hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

“I’m glad it hasn’t, but I really wish you knew how much I needed you too. I didn’t just miss Bucky, you were my friend too.”

“I know, but you haven’t been the same since you thought he died. You have been more closed off, you don’t smile, or laugh like you used to. I just want you to be happy again. I want to see that beautiful smile, and hear your contagious laugh once more.”

“You will again one day. Right now though, you need to help the others make this gauntlet.” I gave a half smile before moving out of the way so the others could do their job.

I sat outside with my eyes closed. Just waiting for someone to walk up to me and make sure I was okay. The light from the sun was dimmed like a shadow moved in front of me. I smiled before opening my eyes, thinking that Steve, or maybe Bucky, was standing in front of me. When I looked, I saw something that looked like a meteor heading right for the building.

I tried to run inside, but it was too late. The ball, or cannon, or whatever had already hit the building. I wiggle my way out from under the debris, but I could tell I had a pretty severe wound on my abdomen. I tried to call out to someone, but I got no response. I hoped that everyone was alright. 

I finally was able to stand up, and walked outside. There I saw Thor standing, and watching someone. I walked over to him, putting pressure on my side to make sure I stopped the bleeding. That’s when I saw Steve walking up to him too.

“What’s he doing?” Steve asked, looking where Thor was looking.

“He’s just sitting there.” Thor responded. “He doesn’t have the gauntlet right?”

“Not that I can see.”

“Let’s keep it that way.” Steve said, walking over to me.

“Who is that guy?” I asked, looking confused.

“That’s Thanos. He’s the reason half the earth’s population disappeared 5 years ago.”

“Did he figure out what we were planning?”

“It’s not the same Thanos. The one from our time, Thor killed him.” Steve said, walking over to him.

“I used to think that destroying half the planet's life would be good enough, but the other half that stuck around seems to be ungrateful. Looks like I may have to destroy this world, and create a new one, one that will be grateful for the world I have provided.”

That’s when Thor charged at Thanos, and the fight began. Tried to fight as much as I could, but I was losing more and more blood every second. I ran at him, thinking he was going to hurt Steve, but he stopped me and threw me against some rubble. I attempted to get up, but the pain was too much to fight anymore.

I watched as Steve prepared to fight by himself. I wish I had the strength to stand up and fight next to him. I just couldn’t bear the pain anymore. That’s when I heard a voice over comms that sounded kind of familiar. 

“Cap, can you read me. On your left.” The voice said, and these vortex-like things opened up, and out walked three people.

Steve turned to me, and saw that I was on the ground. He reached his hand out to me, and I took it, standing up. He smiled at me, and prepared to fight. That’s when armies of people walked through these vortexes. I stayed close to Steve, finding comfort in the one person I knew fairly well. 

“You okay?” He asked.

“I’ll be okay. I just want this douchebag dead. He took Bucky away, and now he wants to destroy the entirety of planet earth. He deserves what’s coming to him.” 

Steve smiled, “you really haven’t changed a bit. More depressed than what I remember, but your attitude is still the same.” He chuckled lightly.

I giggled, and prepared to fight to the end. I didn’t care if I died, I just wanted Steve and Bucky to live. Steve stood at the front of the army he was leading, perhaps into our last battle. I was ready to do anything. I had found my hidden strength to keep fighting till I physically couldn’t keep fighting anymore. That was quicker to come than I thought. I knew I was losing a lot of blood, but I didn’t know how quickly. Turns out when Thanos threw makeup against the rubble, I created an even bigger wound. 

Only a few minutes into the now fair fight, I started to get really dizzy. I tried to grab a hold of someone before I fell, but there was no one around me. I hit the ground and I was out for the count.

~*~

I don’t know how long I had been out for, or if I was still even alive. To my surprise, and Steve’s happiness, I was.

“Hey there sweetheart.” Steve smiled, gripping my hand tightly.

“Did we win?” Of course that would be my first question. It was the first question I asked when we came out of the ice.

He chuckled, but his look turned sad, “we won, but we lost at the same time.”

“What do you mean? Did he snap them away again?” My heart was pounding in my chest. The fear painted across my face.

“No. Everyone who disappeared is back, but Tony...he snapped Thanos and his army away, but he didn’t make it.” Steve gave me an extremely sad look.

I squeezed his hand, not even paying attention to the fact someone had just walked into the room. I didn’t even notice the person till Steve looked over to them, and got up. I couldn’t quite tell who it was because where they were standing was kind of dark. That and my eyes were fully adjusted yet, but I could tell they were tall and well built, they also had semi-long hair.

“Go on. She’s been waiting.” Steve spoke up, seeing me stare at them.

The person came closer, and I was met with their mesmerizing blue eyes. I smiled at them as they came over to sit down. He seemed closed off, or just really shy. I couldn’t quite get a read on him for whatever reason. 

“Hey.” He gave a very small smile, almost shy.

“Hey.” I smile more. 

“I’ve missed that smile.” Steve spoke up.

I giggled, “well it’s thanks to you that I feel like I can be happy again.”

The man sitting next to me just looked down. I put my hand out for him to take. He grabbed it very gently. It was colder than I thought it would be. I looked down, and saw a metal hand. He tried to pull away, but I gripped his hand tight.

“You’re not scared?” He asked.

“Because I have crossed oceans of time to find you.” I smile wide, bringing his hand to my lips, kissing it gently.

Steve smiled, “you knew it was him the whole time didn’t you?”

“Of course. Those eyes are unforgettable, and his voice is unmistakable.” I felt the hand around mine tighten, and his smile got bigger.

“I’ve missed you doll. I’ve missed you so much.” Bucky spoke.

“I missed you too. I never thought that I would ever see you again.”

We stared lovingly at each other for a while. Enjoying just taking in the fact that he was back into my life. That I had him back. That the best thing that ever happened to me was back. It was the best feeling in the world, one that I thought I would never be able to feel again. I finally felt like my heart had been put back together, and Bucky held the mold in his hands.