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anonymityisfunwriter · 2 years ago

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The Winter Soldier (Part 1)

"Hello?" Sam emphasizes, though you're clearly not listening to him. He waits for any sort of reaction, for any indication that you're not completely catatonic. He snaps his fingers in front of your face, only eliciting the most menial, microscopic movement. "Hello?"

You slightly jolt at the sound of Sam's voice. "Sorry. What?"

"You miss him," Sam matter-of-factly states.

"Yeah," you admit, your voice constrained with a painful longing that had yet to subside.

"I hate seeing you like this."

"Yeah," you absently repeat.

"You're going to go back on Monday?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to," Sam assures you.

You clear your throat, shaking your head as though that will clear the mental fog of grief. You looked around and you aren't in your usual surroundings. You didn't know how you walked all this way with Sam without ever being present of mind, but here you were, sitting in a pizza place with Sam sitting across from you. Two drinks in front of you. Your hands picking at the vinyl table cover. You shake your head again before speaking, "I don't think I get to decide that."

It didn't matter if you were ready or not, the bereavement was over in a few short days, and you were expected to face the team after such a crushing loss. You weren't sure how that worked out.

After all, it was only six weeks ago that you were handed his dogs tags. Then, a few days after that, a folded up flag and a medal for his service. As if any of that made up for it.

"No," Sam remorsefully concedes. "But I don't think anyone would hold it against you if you weren't ready."

"I'm not the only person who's lost someone."

"That doesn't matter."

"We should get going," you announce, your hands smoothing over the wrinkles in the tablecloth.

"We haven't even ordered yet," Sam lightly reminds you.

"Right," you exhale, a slight humor in your tone.

"In a hurry to get back home?" he gently jokes, very slightly pushing the boundary to momentarily coax you out of your grief.

"Well, nothing good ever happens after midnight."

"Oh my God," Sam dramatically groans. "You sound like-"

He falters before the name leaves his mouth. You know what he was going to say, 'You sound like Bucky'.

But then you remember, it shouldn't be that easy to say his name after such a short time. After all, he was a person that a few short weeks ago you swore you couldn't live without. And here you were, living without him. Then you feel immensely guilty for the few feeble laughs that you did manage.

You shouldn't be laughing, walking around New York like you're not absolutely devastated. It was wrong, pretending, continuing living your life - a life you promised to a person that wasn't even here anymore.

You wonder if it would ever stop feeling like a betrayal: allowing your world to turn without him. You wonder if the people walking by can see the devastation that lay dormant in your bones.

It's a little twisted, but you sort of hope they can.

"Yeah," you exhale. "I do."

"I invited Steve," Sam hesitantly states.

"You invited Steve?" you sigh, your shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I thought it could help. Seeing one person before you go back. You haven't seen them since-"

"Since the funeral," you finish for him.

Though you considered Steve a good friend, he was probably the last person you wanted to see at present.

Steve was the unfortunate soul that saw the very moment you lost everything. He watched as your normal, bubbly, effervescent demeanor disintegrated with one phone call. He'd never seen anything quite like it. Before that phone call, you and him were joking around while you awaited extraction from a mission.

You answered the phone without a care in the world. He would never forget your smile slowly melt away into an expression that would forever be engrained in his mind.

"What?" you exhaled, your voice already shaky. "No. It- He- It- No."

He immediately straightened himself, taking a step closer to you. The phone slipped out of your hand, crashing onto the rough gravel. He caught you before you crumpled to the floor with a pained scream lodged in your throat.

"He's gone," you sobbed, your powers uncontrollably surging wreaking havoc on the environment around you.

He didn't even need to ask, he knew there was only one person that would elicit such a reaction out of you. When he finally got you back to Sam, he searched for answers to questions that you would inevitably have. An ambush. Apparently, no one on that mission stood a chance. Not that there was anyone left to corroborate that.

Steve also had the terrible honor of helping you deliver a eulogy that you never thought you'd have to write, let alone give to a room full of people, and subsequently leaked online.

"Yeah," Sam sighs.

Your shoulders stiffen, feeling the distinct sensation of being watched trickle down your spine. You look over both your shoulder then out into the dark night outside the restaurant.

"Sam," you pause, the uneasy feeling of being watched radiating down your spine. "Something's wrong."

"What?"

"It- it feels like someone's watching us," you admit.

Sam mimics your motions, looking over each of his shoulders, over the booth, out the window. "I don't see anything."

For a moment, you're concerned that Sam thinks you're going crazy, that you're losing it and allowing the grief to cloud your judgement. He raises his hand, flagging down the waitress and with kind, quiet words asks for the food to-go instead.

"Thanks," you murmur.

You're staring out into the dark night as Sam places a few dollars on the table and stands to leave. You unceremoniously slip your jacket on and walk to the door. Right into Steve.

"Hey, guys..." Steve trails off. You're not sure if he pauses at the sight of the two of you leaving or at your grief-stricken appearance. "You're headed out?"

"Yeah, just a weird feeling," Sam ambiguously offers.

You're thankful Sam doesn't tell Steve that you're the one with the weird feeling, that your paranoia is the one ruining the evening.

"You - you can come with us if you want," you hesitantly add, if only to appease Sam's concerned expression. "We'll probably just eat at the apartment."

"Sure," Steve nods sympathetically.

You've only walked a few steps away from the restaurant when you feel it again.

The hairs stand on the back of your neck, goosebumps radiate down your arms. You look around again, only to see nothing but the dimly lit alley and the warm glow of the street lights. They eerily flicker as though they're warning you of danger, counting down some imminent threat. "Okay, you know the part of the movie where the one person is like 'something's wrong' and then they're like 'no, I'm being paranoid' and the other friend's like let's cut through a dark alley to get home faster."

"Yeah?" Sam simply replies.

"That's what's happening."

"Am I the only one that didn't get the movie thing?" Steve questions.

"Someone's watching us," Sam states ominously, suddenly feeling the foreboding sensation creep down his spine.

"Okay, so-"

Steve's cut off by the sight of a looming, shadowy figure in the backlit alley. "Guys."

Sam looks down the alley, fervently shaking his head. "So what we're not going to do is go into the dark, creepy alley. We're going to leave and go home and definitely not go down that alley, right?"

"I don't think he's going to give us much of a choice," you sarcastically remark, looking at the figure who's yet to move or do anything expect watch the three of you.

Sam takes hold of your arm, trying to usher you away from whoever lurks in the darkness. You resist Sam's hold and take a singular slow, cautious step forward to get a look at the obscured face of the figure.

It's almost like it triggers the man, like the movement is a catalyst to him storming in your direction. You see the outline of a gun being raised and pointed at Sam. Without much composure or grace, you flick your hand to rip the gun out of his hands. It unceremoniously clatters against the brick wall, but ultimately does nothing to deter the man.

"Great," Sam scoffs. "Just what we needed."

"What do you want?" Steve diplomatically calls down the alley.

"You know, I don't think he wants to talk to us, Steve."

You ignore the two men, taking another step forward. Your endless amounts of frustration, pain, and anger making you a little more reckless. Only a few yards away and his pace increasing exponentially, a well-timed flicker of light gleams against something metallic on the man.

Leaving you no room to argue, Steve yanks you back, moving to stand directly in front of you.

"We could just walk away," Sam grumbles. "Why can't we ever just walk away?"

Just as the man enters close, hand-to-hand combat range, two street lights stop flickering, illuminating the very entrance of the alley where you three still stand. It reveals a face you could never forget. It's so undeniable that you don't even question if the grief is causing hallucinations. You stand there, frozen in shock, staring at the person you loved most. A person you thought was dead.

"Oh, shit," Sam exhales.

"Bucky?" Steve asks.

"Who the hell is Bucky?"

You remain standing frozen in shock as your blood runs cold. It doesn't seem like there's anything that can release you from your stupor. Not the boot to Steve's chest that sends him flying against a car. Not Sam going hand-to-hand with Bucky.

Steve quickly recovers, lending a hand to Sam.

You're only brought back to life when you see a serrated blade swiftly enter and exit Steve's side.

You suck in a large breath, suddenly reanimated. As though he can sense that you're no longer catatonic, he turns to you. Even as he violently charges at you, it doesn't change that you want nothing more than to run back into his embrace.

With every single hesitation and reluctance coursing through your veins, you send him violently crashing into the wall with a flick of your hand. You hear the sickening scrape of vibranium against the exposed brick, and more than anything, you want to apologize, to beg for forgiveness for this and what transpired six weeks ago, for the events that brought him here, and everything in between.

His eyes narrow, clearly reassessing the scenario. You aren't sure what changes his mind, but Bucky takes off, clutching the damage you inflicted to his arm as he disappears into the cover of darkness.

"We have to go after him," you frantically insist.

"Steve needs medical attention."

"I'm fine," Steve insists, clutching his bloodied side in pain.

You look at your friend, sitting propped up against the wall in the damp, dirty alley, feeling terrible about what happened. Feeling so responsible for letting Bucky get away and for letting Steve get hurt. You could have stopped him if you hadn't hesitated, if you hadn't stood there paralyzed with dumbfounded shock. "I- I'm sorry, Steve."

"It's okay," he quietly assures.

"Steve's going to be okay," Sam informs you, softly closing the MedBay door behind him.

"Good."

"Are you okay?"

"No."

"That was probably a stupid question."

"Yeah."

"For what it's worth, I'm so sorry."

You shake your head, shaking away the apology. You don't want them anymore. You don't want to hear any more apologies, niceties, or sage words of wisdom. Now that you know Steve's going to be okay, you need to go after him. You stand up off the plastic waiting chair, "Now what?"

"Now what?" Sam repeats, his head jolting in clear repulsion of the question.

"How do we find him?"

"I don't know."

"That's not an answer, Sam."

"It's as good as we're getting tonight."

"That's not good enough," you seethe, uncharacteristically angry and demanding.

"We're just going to have to wait and see-"

"I'm not waiting around for someone to give me answers."

"Well, you're definitely not going to be the one to go and find them."

"Why not? Why not me?"

"You're too close to this. You just found out your dead boyfriend isn't dead, that's not exactly a formula for success."

"I'm going after him. You can't stop me," you fume, turning on your heels to embark on a hopeless search.

"Leave it alone," Sam orders, grabbing your arm to stop you from leaving.

"No!" you interject, whirling around to face Sam with an expression equal parts agony and excruciating pain. "You can't ask me that. I-I won't. I won't do it. That's my person, and I need to get him back."

"That's not your Bucky anymore! Okay? That's not him."

"He's in there," you desperately insist, your voice breaking. "I know it."

"You saw what he did to Steve. Without hesitation." Sam sighs deeply, rubbing his temples in a feeble attempt to calm himself. "I'm not going to let you die trying to bring him back."

"You've brought him back before. We can do it again."

"You don't know that! And what if you-" he lets the words die before they even leave his mouth. He knows it's selfish, incredibly selfish even, but all he can think is he just lost his best friend, this other best friend injured, he can't lose another one. "What if you can't? What if you can't and the Winter Soldier gets his hands on you? Because that's who that is! That's not Bucky and whatever his mission is, he's not going to stop until it's done."

"I don't care!" you exclaim without thinking, inadvertently confirming everything Sam already knew, everything he dreaded. The resilience that was the very essence of your being, the fierce loyalty, all things he loved in his friend, was now your fatal flaw.

"Let him go," he enunciates. "At least for now, let him go."

You swallow the knot overwhelming your throat, still your voice is marred by overwhelming sadness, mixed with remorse, and tainted with guilt. "You know I can't do that. He's out there. He's out there and he's all alone." As the words leave your mouth, your voice breaks entirely. "I promised him, and now he's alone because I let him go on that mission. I should've- I could've-"

"Hey, hey," Sam softly interrupts, pulling you into a crushing embrace. He continues, mumbling into the top of your head, "It wasn't your fault. It was an ambush. There was nothing we could've done. It wasn't your fault."

You pull yourself out of his hold, clearing your throat as you furiously wipe away the tears. "I won't leave him, and if you're not going to help me, I'll go after him alone."

"I'll tell SHIELD," he blurts as you turn away from him.

Your shoulders stiffen as you turn back to face him. He hates that the thought even entered his mind, let alone that he actually said the words. That was a betrayal in every sense of the word in your book. He knew what the first hand what that threat looked like. He knew that and said it knowing that although he might've just irreparably damaged your friendship, he may have just saved your life.

Your lips pull in and Sam can see the sting of betrayal on your face as you shake your head in disbelief, "You'll tell SHIELD?"

"Give me a day. 24 hours. 24 hours to pull an actual plan together."

"He could be gone in 24 hours. Anywhere in the world," you vehemently object, throwing your hands up in frustration.

"24 hours," he repeats. "And if I think there's even the smallest chance that we can do this, I'll give it everything I have."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

"Mission report."

Bucky remains silent, still replaying the unsuccessful mission in his head.

"Mission report. Now," Pierce orders with a strong backhand to Bucky's face.

Bucky's head is frustratingly flooded with flickers of a life he can't remember. He silently weighs his options before asking, "The woman in the alley. Who is she?"

"A SHIELD asset. You've been surveying her for weeks."

"I knew her," Bucky states. "Didn't I?"

The well-dressed man says nothing, straightening his back and readjusting his suit jacket.

"I knew all of them," Bucky continues.

"Wipe him. Start over," Pierce orders to the man standing to the side of Bucky.

Ignoring Bucky's pained groans and yelps of torture, Pierce grabs the file that they'd gradually collected. It's a thick manila envelope filled with everything from you personal history to walking routes to your favorite places in the city. It was everything and then some.

"You really think that he can take her?" Rumlow mutters.

"I don't think she'll put up much of a fight. Too emotional," he states, his voice filled with repulsion. "I'll fix that."

Rumlow nods before Pierce turns back to the Winter Soldier, the blank slate more than ready to comply. Pierce slides the photo toward him, "This is your mission. Apprehend the target and bring her to me."

He rigidly nods, standing without hesitation to complete his mission.

"And, Soldier?" Pierce interjects. "Though I suspect she's not going to put up much of a fight, if you find yourself unsuccessful again, kill her."

"Kill her?" Rumlow mutters as they watch the Winter Soldier walk away.

Pierce languidly shrugs, "If she won't help us, she certainly won't live to help them."

At Sam's vehement insistence, you reluctantly stay at the Compound that night. Your leaden feet drag down the Compound hallway, and you're thankful you don't have to face anyone else that night. You stop in front of the distantly familiar door, though it's only been six weeks you felt like an entirely different person than the one that left this room that fateful day.

It's the first time you're able to step foot in the bedroom you shared with Bucky. Because even if you don't know where he is or if you'll ever really get him back - he's alive. And that's more than you ever thought you'd get.

You're careful not to touch anything, to leave all Bucky's possessions exactly as he left them. To leave the memories as pure and untainted as possible.

The ticking of the clock drags as you keep thinking, because maybe it's not better. Maybe it's worse that he's alive and having to undergo whatever excruciating torment he's being put through. Or that he's out there, but the person you loved is truly gone replaced with a stranger whose laugh you could recognize anywhere.

Your mind whirls trying to reconcile what you hope with what is - your wishes to the reality of it all. You find that the memories of the few short years with Bucky, do not break your fall.

You give up at almost 2 in the morning. You take the strong sleeping pill prescribed to you in the beginning of this nightmare and crawl into the loneliest bed you've ever known.

You don't fight the medicinally-induced sleep as it slowly overtakes you, but instead relish in the short reprieve of the rushing, turbulent flow of thoughts that gradually wane into a bearable trickle:

When your eyes open, you notice him right away. He's laying down on a picnic blanket, scattered beams of sunshine cascading through the leaves and branches of the tree above him beaming on his face. He lifts his head ever so slightly, just enough for him to make eye contact with you. The corner of his mouth lifts and he nudges his head to invite you over.

You take a singular, cautious step forward.

He doesn't disappear. Doesn't waver in his invitation. He sticks his hand out as if to coax you closer and all your hesitations and pretenses crumble.

You bolt towards him, practically throwing yourself on top of him to envelope yourself in his warm, comforting embrace one last time.

"I missed you," he murmurs into the top of your head.

"Me too," you whimper, allowing the tears to freely flow and trickle onto his shirt.

You two stay like that for a long while, soaking in a comfort you never thought you'd be able to seek again. You listen to the steady beat of his heart, his slow, even breaths, the slow, gentle strokes of his hand trailing up and down your spine.

"You know Sam's right?" he asks after only so many moments of comfort.

"Now I know I'm dreaming. You'd never willingly admit that Sam was right about anything."

"I'm being serious."

"Don't," you plead, tears burning at your eyes again. Your hands tighten on his shirt, clinging to him to will him to stay with you in this idyllic moment. "I love you."

"You have to let me go," he says, his hand stopping in its tracks. "I could kill you."

You sit up completely to meet his eyes, to show him your determination, the infallible resolve to bring him back."You won't."

"Let me go," he repeats.

You stand up in a huff. Angry that he'd even make a suggestion, that you could simply continue on knowing that he was out there and not do anything about it. How were you supposed to let him go when he was haunting you? "You know I can't."

"You have to," he begs, standing up and taking your hand in a desperate plea.

"You promised me," you angrily remind him, tears slipping down your cheeks. "You promised you wouldn't leave me! You said you'd always come back."

"I'm sorry I couldn't keep that promise."

"You can! I can bring you back. Me, Sam, Steve, we can-"

"Let me go," he interjects. "Nothing good will come from going after me."

"I'm not going to stay away."

He abruptly drops your hand, an eerie chill cutting through the warm summer breeze. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

You look up and the Bucky you knew was gone, you could tell as the feeling of safety and comfort evaporated. Instead, you look up and see the mask of the Winter Soldier. Without a moment's hesitation, his vibranium hand wraps around your throat, slowly, mercilessly crushing your windpipe.

You unwillingly jolted from your slumber gasping for air.

You weren't sure if it was for better or worse, but Bucky did not meet you in any of the rest of your dreams that night. Instead, you were plagued by sick highlights and twisted reels of the night before. It came back as flashes, fragments of a puzzle you didn't have any idea of how to put together.

The early morning sun filters through the curtain warms your face, stirring you lightly. The mental fog lifted, cleared just enough for a vital epiphany. It's in your disoriented state that the pieces start coming together, forming a picture that only the most vile, wicked and evil mind could've put together.

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

You jolt out of your lonely bed, haphazardly throwing your covers off and forgoing your shoes as you throw your bedroom door open. You're about to storm down the short hallway when you see Sam standing there. He looks as frantic as you feel, mirroring your frenzied, realized state.

"I figured it out," you and Sam state simultaneously. "Jinx."

"You go first," you both continue. "No, you."

"Okay, I'll go first," you decide. "It's me."

"It's you," Sam affirms, his voice barely above an exhale. "You're what they want."

"Should I even bother asking you to stay away?" Sam asks, standing beside a thankfully recovered Steve in the conference room. "To stay at the Compound where you're not in danger?"

"It's always nice to know that you know me," you offer.

He sighs deeply. "What if I said please?"

"You know my answer."

"But this changes things," Steve adds, his arms folded in both frustration and concern. "If it's you they want, bringing you to the fight is handing you over on a silver platter."

"Then that's my choice to make. I can take care of myself."

"You know the person that says that in movies is always the first person to go," Sam retorts. "You're not thinking about this logically."

"No, I'm not," you proudly admit, an unshakeable resolve in your voice. "I thinking about this as a person who lost everything. And now I have a chance to get it back."

"You're being reckless," Sam chastises.

"Sam," Steve gently warns.

"I need you to trust me. I need you to trust that I know what I'm doing," you state, your eyes filled with unspoken pleas.

"Then how do we find him?" Sam exhales, his shoulders slumped in resignation.

"Would it be too much to ask to use myself as bait?"

"It's always nice to know that you know me," Sam says, redirecting your own words back at you.

You quietly huff in amusement, folding your arms as you turn back to the large screen. On there, you can see the few confirmed sightings of a masked figure. All within a few miles of the SHIELD housing you had been staying in during your bereavement. Still looking at the screen, you're the first to speak, "It's safe to assume that he's been watching us."

"Right," Sam agrees. "But he could've moved in before the other night. The question is: Why didn't he?"

"I was never alone," you audibly think. "SHIELD's been keeping a close eye. Agents in the house next to me and in front of me. You've been staying with me. Too many eyes. Probably why he waited until I left the house."

Sam shrugs. "Guess that makes sense, but then his mission isn't to...you know?"

"To kill me?"

"Yeah," Sam tersely exhales.

"They're recruiting," Steve concludes. "Bucky wasn't expecting to me to make an appearance. The two of you he could take. Three of us? Maybe not."

"So we draw him out or we find where they're keeping him."

"And how exactly do we find secret HYDRA posts?"

"Google?" you sarcastically remark.

"I think we need to pay a visit to Fury. See what he knows."

"Agreed," you nod.

It was a suffocating silence in Sam's car as you drove to the city to pay Nick Fury a visit. You found that more common nowadays than any other form of conversation. People simply didn't know what to say to you anymore. And you didn't have the energy to guide them through a simple conversation. So you remained shrouded in silence. Lately, you liked the silence - it reminded you of him.

You'd only been driving in the car for just under thirty minutes when you see him. You weren't sure if it was a coincidence or that you were somehow hyper-aware of his proximity. But you barely caught the sight of him as you approached a freeway overpass.

"Guys," you gasp, pointing to the figure on the overpass. "I don't think we need Nick to find him."

Steve's eyes widen as the man drops from the overpass onto a car, cars swerving out and away from the Winter Soldier as he stormed his way with one very specific target in mind. Sam stomps on the brake, the smell of burning rubber filling the car as he skids to a haphazard stop.

"I think we found him," you exhale, catching Bucky's eye as he pinpoints your location in the backseat.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Sam scoffs.

Without breaking eye contact with him, you stumble out of Sam's strewn car.

"Wait," Sam calls as you shut the door behind you.

Though the lack of emotion or recognition in his steel-blue eyes breaks your heart, you don't break it as you cautiously walk toward him. You're vaguely away of Sam and Steve getting out of the car, the shots ringing around you, letting you know that Bucky did not come alone. With two hands out in a peace-filled gesture, "I don't really know what to say to you, so-"

He's totally unfazed by the words leaving your mouth, his stone-faced expression completely cold and void of any discernible emotion. He raises his gun with an ease that breaks your heart, pointing it directly at you. You flick the gun out of his hand like the night before, "I'm not going to fight you."

"Good," he states, just close enough that you can almost reach out and touch him.

Without hesitation, a skilled, agile hand is flying at you at lightening speed. You stick out your hand, stopping his vibranium fist mid-air. "Okay, so maybe I fight back just a little bit."

You feel him fighting the invisible force, willing it to fold to his incredible strength. You try not to waver being this close to him, seeing his familiar blue eyes just a few feet from you. The very moment you're about to falter, Steve's familiar shield flies from behind you.

The Winter Soldier expertly dodges it, his focus momentarily off of you and onto the two men behind you.

While Steve takes up combat with Bucky, you focus on the guns still shooting at and around you. It's almost amusing, seeing the shock as the HYDRA agent's lose their guns to an invisible tug that sends them clattering to the floor. Or the bullets that are forced downward rendering them almost entirely harmless.

"I've got this. Steve needs help," Sam calls, his gun in hand as he takes care of the remaining HYDRA agents.

"You're the one that trained me," you murmur, your eyes raking over the two super-soldiers fighting. "Let's see how much that paid off."

As you approach, you whip his blade right as he kicks Steve into a thankfully vacant car.

"I told you I wasn't going to fight you," you remind him, your voice laced with all the pent-up frustration and anger from the last six weeks.

Before he can begin his assault, your powers take hold of his vibranium arm. You can see him fight to escape the hold that pushes him further and further back. Even as he hits the brick wall behind him, he viscously tries to pull his arm out of your hold.

You feel every single burst of energy and strength he exudes and almost stumble back under his incredible strength, but you hold steady. You firmly plant your feet on the pavement in front of him, just out of his arms reach. "I've mourned you for weeks. You could at least remember me."

Just as you feel the tides of the fight turning, you hear the squeal of tires rapidly approaching the scene. Bucky's arm still pinned against the brick wall, you look over and see several distantly familiar SHIELD agents step out of their cars.

"You said you weren't going to call SHIELD," you hiss.

"I didn't," Sam swears. "But maybe Steve getting stabbed in an alley raises some red flags?"

"Okay. That's fair," you concede.

Your eyes scan the chaotic area and see only a handful of SHIELD agents, most occupied with evacuation and HYDRA operatives lurking in the corner.

"I don't trust them. They'll kill him or send him back," you grit, your voice strained under the incredible strength it takes to hold Bucky. "Need some help here, guys."

"You can't protect him and fight him off," Sam cautions, preemptively cautioning you from protecting him like you swore you always would.

"I'm not going to let them hurt him," you grit, one hand protecting Bucky from rogue bullets directed at him, the other still trying to contain him.

"And if we bring him back and he finds out he killed you? Then what? Do you honestly think that we could talk him off that ledge?"

"You talked me off that ledge," you quietly remind him, looking up to meet Bucky eyes.

"It's not the same and you know that."

"I know," you exhale, and for a moment, you let your emotions cloud your judgement. You forget that it's not your Bucky. You forget that he's not going to pull his punches. As though he knows you've pulled back and lost focus, with a singular deft movement, he roughly grabs your shoulder and throws you against the brick wall.

Your arm and shoulder take the brunt of the hit, but you feel the pain radiate down the entire side of your body. You'd heard about the Winter Soldier's ruthlessness before, but as he reaches for your injured arm, you can't help the surprised, pained yelp that leaves your mouth.

Upon seeing Steve recover in his peripheral, he drops you as suddenly as he picked you up. He drops you as though you were nothing to him to focus his fight on Steve. Using your uninjured arm to pick yourself up, you feel the blood trickling down the side of your face.

"You okay?" Sam calls, peeling his eyes away from his own battles to check on you.

"Yeah," you call back, clearly lying as you cradle your injured arm. "Barely even hurt."

By the time you're fully standing, the two super soldiers are enthralled in a fight that can only be described as dizzyingly terrifying. Except for protecting the man trying to kill you from SHIELD agents, you feel entirely useless. You see the look of shocked anger on the faces of your allies as you ricochet bullets away from Bucky and leave him unarmed. And you still don't care enough to stop protecting him.

Your attention is only called away when Steve's shield clatters less than a foot away from you.

You shift your focus back to the two men, the fight going in a direction that you're not sure you like.

"Steve, catch," you shout, sending his shield flying back into his hand. He catches the shield with expert precision, using it to block Bucky's strike. They meet with a loud metallic clang, but they both fall away mostly unharmed.

With the sound of your voice reminding him of your proximity, he whirls around to you. With a heavy boot to your midsection, he kicks you back, sending you flying into one of the abandoned cars on the street. With the wind almost entirely knocked out of you, you breathlessly groan, "Okay, that hurt. That one hurt."

"Are you-" Sam begins.

Before Sam can finish the question, you hear more shots ring out. One followed by a muted thump.

"Sam?" you frantically plead, unable to fully stand as pain radiates through your body. "Sam?"

"Damn it," Sam groans, clutching his bloodied shoulder. "When we get Bucky back, I'm gonna kick his ass for that."

With a shaky hand on the asphalt, you being to lift yourself up in spite of the grueling agony in your body.

You look just in time to see something horrific.

Before you can intervene or even process what's happening, the car less than a yard away from you explodes. Before you succumb to the damage done by the debris and your close proximity to the blow, you see Bucky standing a few meters away from you, Steve, bloodied and bruised, desperately trying to clammer to his feet to stop him.

Before you fade out of consciousness entirely, you see Bucky standing there with the weapon responsible for the blast in his hand.

Your eyes jolt open only moments later, the loud screech of a large piece of metal debris being lifted off of you.

The Winter Soldier looks down at you fighting with every ounce of your being to stand. With one shaky leg you place your foot back on the ground, but before you get the chance to find your footing, a merciless hand painfully winds in your hair. You shakily exhale, frantically stumbling to your feet as he harshly tugs you up.

For a moment, he looks at your face. There's no emotion there, no recognition, nothing.

He's simply confirming his target.

Before you can say anything, his hand goes for your throat. You can barely keep him from winding his fingers around your neck, using every last ounce of power to keep yourself alive. He flexes his hand, once again trying to break the invisible force keeping his metal hand from forming a fatal grip on your throat.

Over his shoulder, you see a few remaining SHIELD agents clambering to reach for an available weapon. Though you're intent on keeping yourself alive, you see an agent successfully reach for a gun, pointing it at Bucky's back.

And maybe this would prove Sam right, maybe this was irrational grief that overcame you, but you know in that moment you have a choice: him or you.

Him or you.

And though you want to keep your promise to Sam and Bucky, it's not a choice. You focus that last of your energy on protecting him, allowing him to close his hand around your throat. He doesn't crush your windpipe immediately, instead he slow drags you to the edge of consciousness. You wouldn't be surprised if you simply woke up in a HYDRA cell a few days later.

He raises you, pinning you against the wall. The very tips of your shoes barely scrape the floor and you feel consciousness slipping further away from you. "It's going to be okay," you wheeze against his firm grip. "You're going to be okay."

The words echo somewhere deep inside his subconscious, ringing and amplifying somewhere in the very recesses of his mind:

"Shh..." you coo, gently stroking his face. "It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay. It was just a nightmare."

"It felt so real," he trembles.

"You're going to be okay. I'm here - always."

He jolts his hand away from your throat, allowing you your first large breath in well over a minute. You drop to your knees, holding your throat as you cough and sputter for desperately needed oxygen.

You found that grief came in sporadic, cataclysmic waves.

Each merciless wave crashing down on you as you tried to tread choppy waters, and every time you felt like you were drowning and your lungs could take no more, you were granted a singular gulp of air. Your lungs and chest ached. Your muscles burned with exhaustion, but that one breath of air kept you marching on. Even if you didn't want to.

You look up at Bucky, who looks down at you with a concerned, fearful look on his face. With recognition and remembrance in his eyes.

Both literally and figuratively, this was your breath of fresh air.

Part 2

A.N.

LISTEN, before you say anything, just know that I didn't want this (a lie) I didn't want to write this (that's also a lie). But I got an awesome request/idea that took root. And I tried talking myself out of it, but it was too late. The seed was planted, the idea festered, and this is what happened.

For the sake of sanity (mine and yours) and to keep the grumpy sunshine series happy and not endless cycles of tragedy for the sake of continuity, we'll call this an alternate timeline. Yes, that's what we'll do. The real Sunshine and Bucky are way over there, living their best, peaceful lives. That is all.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Grumpy Sunshine Series Masterlist

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sylvienerevarine · 2 years ago

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Fic: A Night At The Theater

You guys remember Falura, the slave girl who the Nerevarine has to find as a bride for an Ashlander chieftain? I love her and have decided she and my Nerevarine, Sylvie, are besties. So I have written about them.

(Tagging @bravelittlescrib for being foolish enough to encourage me)

Life in the Ashlander camp was far from luxurious, but Falura had grown to love it. She loved the warm, cozy interior of her yurt; loved the children tossing their guar-hide balls back and forth on sunny days; even loved her new husband the chieftain, who was rather pompous but at heart a very kind man. It wasn't the easiest of lives, but it was far better than slavery.

The Zainab camp was remote, without much excitement save for wild animals and storms, and Falura was prepared to spend the rest of her life settling village disputes, raising children, and never being surprised.

Until Sylvie came back.

It had been months since Falura had seen the red-haired wood-elf- and back then, Sylvie hadn't yet been the legendary Nerevarine, the hero of the province. She'd been a scruffy adventurer desperate to prove herself as the fulfillment of all those ancient prophecies.

Still, she had delivered Falura out of slavery and into her peaceful new life, and in doing so had established herself in Falura's mind as the greatest hero of the era. Since then, Sylvie had slain the evil Dagoth Ur and become beloved by all... and yet here she was, back in Kaushan and Falura's yurt, behaving as though nothing had changed at all.

"Falura, Kaushan, darlings," Sylvie said, plopping down on one of the bedrolls. "It's been too long, hasn't it? You have no idea how much I've missed you. I can see things are going well here- I always knew you two would be a wonderful couple."

"Always an honor, Nerevarine," Kaushad said, with gruff fondness. "Can't say I thought we would see you again."

"After all the help you gave me? Why, they couldn't keep me away. And Falura and I grew so close on our journey that I simply had to check on her."

"So... what have you been up to since your great adventure?" Falura asked hesitantly. Great adventure was putting it mildly, but Falura didn't quite feel up to saying since you killed the devil.

"Oh, I've been here and there," Sylvie replied. "Traveling, exploring. Been spending quite a bit of time in Mournhold lately."

"And what's in Mournhold?"

"Shopping, mainly. And doing a bit of work for the royals," Sylvie said vaguely. "But mainly the shopping. The clothiers there are fabulous."

She dragged out the a in the last word: f-aaa-bulous. Falura was never quite sure if Sylvie's posh accent was real or affected. She'd asked once, to which the Nerevarine had responded: "Darling, you think I know? I have no memory of my education."

(Sometimes, Falura wondered if Sylvie's amnesia was somewhat affected as well. Being a polite lady, she had never asked.)

(Nor did she ask about Sylvie's new scars, none of which could have come from shopping.)

"But never mind me," said Sylvie, after a brief pause. "In fact, I came here to see if you'd like to go to the theater."

"The theater," Falura repeated slowly.

"In Vivec, specifically. Apparently Crassius Curio- he's a Hlaalu lord, you won't know him- has written a play about little old me," said Sylvie, as though all of this was perfectly normal. "He's an old friend, sort of, and I felt I simply had to support him. The play's called Saint Sylvie Moon-and-Star, which apparently some people find sacrilegious, but knowing Crassius it'll simply be ridiculous."

"It does sound like fun," said Falura hesitantly. "But it's quite a long journey, and I hate to leave my husband..." She cast a questioning glance at Kaushad, who looked highly amused.

"Oh, go on, old girl," he said. "No harm in your having an adventure now and again. Go show those Vivec snobs we've got style in the Ashlands as well."

Sylvie clapped her hands together delightedly. "It's settled, then," she declared. "This is going to be such fun!"

Saint Sylvie Moon-and-Star was to be performed in Vivec's newly-constructed theater, established in the Hlaalu canton by Lord Curio himself. It was by far the grandest building Falura had ever been in, and as she and Sylvie settled into their plush red seats, she was torn between awe and homesickness.

The curtain rose on a mock prison cell, where the heroine languished on a bed waiting to be freed. The actress playing Sylvie was rather shorter and plumper than the Nerevarine herself, but she'd managed the iconic hairstyle: short, red, dramatically flipped up at the ends.

"That's got to be a wig," Sylvie murmured. "Still, it's a nice one, so I'm not offended."

All seemed well for the first hour of the play, as Player-Sylvie fought ancestral ghosts and charmed ancient wizards. The mood changed abruptly, though, when Player-Sylvie encountered Adamantius Hlasko, a licentious nobleman whose vote was necessary for Sylvie to become Hortator.

"And how, my sweet blossom, do I know you're worthy of being our Hortator?" Adamantius asked Player-Sylvie, who seemed smitten with him. "Such a delicate creature as yourself may not be up for such a hard task."

"Why, sir, you underestimate me," said Player-Sylvie. "Just on the way here I slew ten ghosts and six bone-lords!"

"You know," said Adamantius, "some call me the bone-lord."

Player-Sylvie giggled and blushed. "And why do they call you that, sir?"

"Ah, my little duckling," Adamantius replied with a leer, running a finger down player-Sylvie's cheek. "If you wish to become Hortator, I would be more than happy to show you."

Falura let out a shocked laugh, which she cut short at the sound of an irritated huff next to her.

"I am going to kill that man," Sylvie growled, her accent suddenly sounding much less posh.

"I assume that's not what really happened?" Falura asked cautiously.

"Of course not! That son of a blighted rat, doesn't he know I have a reputation to uphold? It was bad enough that Crassius insisted I kiss him in exchange for his vote. If people thought I seduced my way into becoming Hortator..." Noticing annoyed looks coming from nearby spectators, Sylvie let out a quiet noise of frustration and shook her head. "Never fear, Falura, I will be avenged."

The play came to a close an hour later, the curtain closing to thunderous applause. Sylvie seemed to have perked up by the play's ending, which depicted her slaying the villainous Dagoth Ur after cheerfully saying "So long, darling! No one's going to miss that hideous mask."

"I don't think I did say that in real life- I was much too frightened," she'd confessed in a whisper. "But I would have if I'd had my wits about me."

As the curtain fell, Falura wondered if Sylvie had forgotten her vow of revenge. She received her answer when a man, barrel-chested and brown-bearded, raced up to the two women in the theater's lobby.

"Crassius," Sylvie said with a tight smile. "Well, well. How very nice."

"Sylvie, dumpling!" Crassius exclaimed. "How delightful that you could come to our little play. I did try to stay as true to your marvelous story as possible..." He was cut off with a loud thwack, as Sylvie's Wraithguard-gloved fist met his cheek.

"Splendid writing as always, Crassius dear," Sylvie said with a bright smile, while Crassius was still groaning in pain. "Care to get dinner, Falura?"

#morrowind fic #my writing #morrowind #elder scrolls

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joshstambourine · 4 years ago

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What Friends Do pt. 3

Warning: Cursing

Word count: 3382

Synopsis: Josh and Jake are surprised when an old friend stumbles back into their lives, taking their world by storm with old feelings, new feelings, and problems they never would have expected.

Josh Kiszka x Fem!Reader x Jake Kiszka

Josh sat rather quietly at a booth in the corner of the rather cheery and noisy diner, his eyes sticking close to a book he held in his hand. Despite how energetic and wild Josh was, he was still an avid learner. He craved to be absorbing knowledge whenever possible, so he read. Sometimes history, sometimes philosophy, religion and myth at other times… it was whatever tickled his fancy at that moment really. Just recently Josh had picked up an interest in true crime, he wasn't normally that kind of guy really, but after reading a small portion of the book he was now holding he quickly became hooked. It had something to do with the psychological aspect of it all, and the sheer ingenuity of the author who put so much work into writing it.

Josh's chin rested in his hand as his eyes scanned page after page without a need for pause, well except for when the waitress came to see if he needed his coffee topped up. To which Josh was quick to give a wide smile and push his mug to her, "Thank you." He simply hummed, as the young woman poured the coffee she couldn't stop smiling.

"You're Josh right?" She lightly asked him, clearly a little nervous. "...like Josh Kiszka?"

Josh looked to her with his own smile, "Depends on who's asking." He mused lightly, trying not to make a big deal out of the inquiry.

The waitress let out a quick laugh, her eyes focused on her hands as she poured. "I didn't come to bother you, I just uh… I'm a huge fan and I was hoping you could sign something for me?" She quietly asked, looking up at him again.

Josh glanced at her name tag, "Of course… Annie?" He lightly asked, giving a small point to her badge. She began to nod quickly, suddenly jerking the pot of coffee back up realizing she had spilled a fair amount on the table.

"Oh no!" She exclaimed, "I am so sorry!" Annie quickly exclaimed.

Josh lightly lifted his book and his arms with a rather melodic laugh, "It's totally okay! Don't worry!" He tells her, his hand outstretched to take some napkins and help her wipe up the mess.

"I'll get a cloth---" Annie uttered, clearly in a shambles over what had just happened. She was still muttering to herself as she quickly went around back.

Josh watched as she ran off giving a soft smile, 'What a sweet girl…' he thought before noticing a young woman walking towards him, she wore an expression that told him she had watched everything that had just happened by the way she was trying not to laugh.

"What did you do to that poor girl?" (Y/N) laughed, "She was shaking like a leaf!" She continued, not finding it funny that the girl was such a mess --- (Y/N) thought she was adorable. No, what (Y/N) thought was hilarious was watching people lose their cool around a guy she knew for a fact could belch the entire alphabet and then some.

"I didn't do anything!" Josh quickly responded as he wiped the table, "She asked for an autograph and just---" He then gestured to the table.

(Y/N) shook her head in disbelief, "Have you told her how good you are at armpit farts yet?" She quickly inquired, coming to sit across from him, pulling a few more napkins to help him clean up.

Josh quickly pointed to her, "I have not, but you know that she would just climb right onto my lap if I did." He explains, "Ladies find that irresistible."

"Oh really?" (Y/N) raised a brow,

"Oh yeah, didn't you know that?" Josh replies in a spitfire way. "It's all women want these days."

"Ah yes, who needs love and affection when your man can armpit fart?" (Y/N) mused out loud glancing up at Josh, his gaze was on the young waitress who had come back rather quickly with a cloth.

She immediately began to wipe down the table, "Again I'm so sorry about that. I can't believe I did that---" Annie explained with an exasperated tone to her voice. "To make it up to you I'll cover your meal." She continues before pulling back.

"Oh no!! You don't have to do that!" Josh quickly exclaimed,

"No I insist." Annie says,

"No really hon, don't worry about it, he's rich he's got it." (Y/N) told her with a warm smile.

"(Y/N)---" Josh whispered in a quick way, though he was smiling. "Please, don't worry about it, Annie! Um here," He says taking one of the few napkins left in the holder. "(Y/N), do you have a pen?"

"Oh yeah---" She quickly says, going to pull one from her bag. "Here."

Josh quickly took it and began to scribble some things down on the napkin.

Annie's eyes were now on (Y/N) in a curious way, "I'm sorry, I don't think we met." She uttered, not remembering (Y/N) being here when Josh had sat down.

"Oh no I just got here…" (Y/N) admits, “We had lunch plans.” She continued.

"Oh! I'll get you a menu then," Annie quickly says, "Did you want anything to drink? I--- there's still coffee I didn't spill all of it!" She laughed awkwardly, "Oh---! I hope I didn't ruin your date or anythin---"

She was cut off by (Y/N) snickers, "God no! Don't worry about it! Josh is just an old friend--- this actually fits better than anything I could have imagined honestly." She mused. "But a coffee would be wonderful." (Y/N) told her.

As she said this Josh turned to hand Annie the napkin, he had not only signed it but also drew what appeared to be a coffee cup. "I'm not an artist--- well I mean, that kind at least." He lightly admitted.

Annie's cheeks were a bright red at this point, "N-no this is amazing!" She quickly sputtered out, "Thank you so much!" She continued, clearly over the moon with the simplest act of kindness really. Annie’s eyes lingered on it for a moment long before tucking it away into her pocket, “I’ll get you that coffee now!”

(Y/N) gave a small nod as a thank you, watching Annie run off. “What a cute girl!” She hums, glancing at Josh. “You clearly just made her week.” She points out to him, snatching her pen back from him.

Josh shook his head a little, “It’s still mind boggling to me that that's all it takes for me to make someone's day. Well at least people who know who I am.” He uttered out, folding a corner down in his book and placing it off to the side.

(Y/N) smiled as he said that, “I mean hey, it means you guys have been doing something right.” She tells him, fingers pushing back her hair a little as she leans on the table, “I take it Jake will probably be here by the time we’re leaving?” She mused as she had begun to look around the diner. (Y/N) enjoyed the warmth the restaurant had, it feeling like she was in a small town again --- that was probably why Josh liked this place, that it reminded him of Frankenmuth.

Josh softly laughed, “Yeah I can only assume, you know how he is---” he starts, moving to take a sip out of his mug. “Well--- actually he may surprise us, you also know how he gets when you’re involved.” He snickers, well aware of how much effort his brother used to put into getting dressed up and being several minutes early for her.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes a little, “Josh it’s been like six years---” (Y/N) scoffed, “You can’t honestly think he still feels like that.”

Josh began to shrug as he swallowed, “I mean I don’t know, he was pretty awestruck seeing you yesterday.” He mused,

His saying this made (Y/N) frown a little, “...ah… yeah I don’t think that look was awestruck.” She uttered under her breath, beginning to rummage through her purse.

Josh watched her from the corner of his eye, seeing a few items being shuffled around. It wasn’t long before he frowned a little, eyes lingering. (Y/N) finally pulled her phone free and saw his eye line, “What?!” She quickly asks, bringing the bag back to her side.

Josh’s eyes met (Y/N)’s he had chosen not to say anything, perhaps he was wrong about what he saw. He certainly hoped so, “Nothing.” Josh smiled at her, “It’s just good to see you.” He tells her honestly.

Josh certainly had missed having (Y/N) around to chat with like this. It wasn’t really a surprise when she packed up and left to go to college, she had different goals than Jake and him… though clearly things had changed seeing that she was back here starting her own career as a musician which was commendable, but also sad. Josh knew she never wanted to be a musician. (Y/N) from the time he had met her wanted to become a force for good in the world, perhaps some sort of court justice; just something that could make a change for the better. Of course Josh had always wanted something similar, but felt his being a force for good came through the music he made.

“It’s really good to see you too Josh.” (Y/N) responded with eyes full of affection, things fell quiet for a moment. (Y/N) had a lot she wanted to say to Josh, and clearly Josh also had a lot he wanted to say as well… but neither of them knew where to begin which made the air between them feel rather heavy.

Even Annie felt the tension and reluctantly slipped in as she gave (Y/N) a white coffee mug and a menu, “I’m just gonna leave this here… I’ll be back in a minute.” She uttered nervously before scrambling away.

Josh took a deep breath as he sat straight with his mug in hand, “So…?” He started,

(Y/N) took her glass and unknowingly did the same thing, “So what…?” She repeated,

“Music?” Josh lightly inquired, with a sly grin.

(Y/N) began to sigh very loudly, even throwing her head back a little. “Yes Josh. Music.” She droned, “I’m getting into music. Don’t you rub it in my face too, my parents have already done that enough.” She replied.

Josh shook his head, “I’m not gonna rub it in your face! I’m just confused, after so sheer much disdain for it all… now you’re here?” He slowly says with a clearly confused expression. “I just don’t get it (Y/N).”

“Plans change Josh, what can I say?” She responded, in a tone that clearly displayed she didn't want to be talking about this.

Josh raised a brow, his expression told her that he didn’t believe that. “You? Changing plans?” He scoffs, “(Y/N) your stubborn as a fucking mule, you expect me to believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.” Josh quickly tells her, “What happened? Did you fail your classes…?” He lightly suggested, making (Y/N) scoff as she shook her head. “You know I don’t care what it is just --- just can you enlighten me a little.” Josh continues beginning to lean over the table, his gaze curious but still warm, he did care… and (Y/N) knew that.

(Y/N) had seen the look in his eyes many times during their younger years, it was a look that still made her heart ache a little. She glanced down at the mug in her hands beginning to take a sip, Josh stared at her for a few more seconds, before looking into his own glass with a slightly annoyed look.

“(Y/N)?” A soft voice called from the back of her mind,

“Yeah?” She could remember responding, now recalling how Josh’s head was laid in her lap at this moment. (Y/N) ran her fingers through his soft hair, it was longer than… without the tight curls just... free. (Y/N) was looking up at the stars twinkling softly over head, needing something to keep her attention from just staring at Josh.

Josh and (Y/N) used to sneak out in the middle of the night to walk together, just to talk and do silly things. They of course would sneak out to go to different parties and things, but the times they would sit alone like this were the most picturesque moments.

“You know that I don’t care, right…?” Josh softly told her, “About all that stuff…?” He continued, glancing down (Y/N) eyes met his. It was the same look, he wanted to be reassuring but the way he stared, told her everything she needed to know. “It doesn’t make me think any less of you…” He continued.

A soft smile had crept across her lips at that moment, “...I know Josh.” She lightly responded, remembering how her heart fluttered as his hand took her softly to hold over his chest. Moments like this with Josh were sweet to look back on, he really was a good friend when (Y/N) needed him the most, however… they were also a touch embarrassing to look back on. At times she couldn’t believe she entrusted him with so much information about her life.

“(Y/N)?” Josh continued,

“Mhm?” She responded,

“...Is superman’s ability to fly a feat of strength or actually a super power?” Josh uttered thoughtlessly as he gazed up at the stars,

“...Josh, you’re an idiot if you think it's anything other than a feat of strength.” (Y/N) responded without having to give it another thought. Maybe it was embarrassing to have shared so much with Josh, but… he was her best friend after all.

(Y/N) glanced up from her mug to look at Josh across the booth from her. She took in how his features had become more defined during their time apart, and how his hair curled and fell around his face. Josh had grown into even more of a handsome man than she could have ever expected. (Y/N) couldn’t help it, she could feel herself start and couldn’t stop it --- the same words leaving her lips as before, though she knew it wasn’t true. “I know Josh.” She smiled.

Josh raised his eyes, “So?” He lightly prodded, “What happened?” He lightly asks,

(Y/N) gave a light smile, she was going to lie through her teeth… she knew he would know but she wasn’t ready to admit why she was actually here. Not yet. “...It just wasn’t for me.” She tells him, “...I guess I didn’t realize how much I actually loved singing and performing until I wasn’t doing it anymore.” She told him, her chest feeling heavy with anxiety as Josh looked back at her.

His lips parted to say something, but seemed to pull back on the reins --- something (Y/N) had never seen him do when they were young. Josh smiled at her, he knew she was lying. (Y/N) hadn’t changed as much as he thought, she was making the same face she used to when she would bluff during their poker games. Josh just couldn’t bring himself to press the question; he had a feeling he knew what it was, and it was something he couldn’t just broach on the first time seeing each other in years. “...well… as long as you’re happy now.” He tells her honestly.

(Y/N) continued to make the same face as she nodded, “Of course I am~” She cooed, “I’ve got my hobbit back.” She continued.

Josh laughed a little as his eyes caught sight of an approaching figure, it made him smile a little as he waved. “Look who finally decided to show up!” He mused, “And before the diner closed too.” He continued, watching as Jake shook his head in an unamused way.

Jake wore a set of sunglasses on the top of his head, alongside a white shirt with dark red half sleeves, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. “Don’t even start…” He lightly said, going to slide into the spot beside Josh.

“Whoa hey now! That spot is saved.” Josh says rather seriously, pointing to sit with (Y/N) across the booth. It was (Y/N)’s turn to roll her eyes, she had heard him say this before. Once Jake had sat down Josh kicked up his feet so he was laying across the whole side of the booth, “My feet thank you.” He hummed.

Josh stared at his brother with clearly tired eyes, “....Dick.” He simply says, earning him a wide grin from Josh.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes at Josh knowing exactly what he was doing, she shook her head as she looked to Jake. “Hey…” she lightly started, noticing the bags under his eyes. “...oof… rough night?” She inquires,

Jake nodded as he rubbed his eyes, “You could say that.” He muttered,

“Okay, sorry for the delay, it's been busy today. What can I----” Annie had returned and immediately stopped, “Another new person okay!” She uttered, “Do we need another menu?” She asked, clearly looking a little exasperated.

“No, that's okay… I’ll just have a cup of coffee.” Jake says,

“Not hungry?” (Y/N) lightly asked, with an air of concern. Jake didn't respond, his arms simply crossing. (Y/N) didn’t continue to ask anything, she just looked down at the menu quickly, “Uh… I’ll just go with the number three.” She simply says.

“Okay… and for you?” Annie asked looking to Josh,

“Mmmm… the same.” He tells her.

“Alright, well I’ll be back! AGAIN with the coffee I guess.” Annie lightly uttered, turning on her heels.

“That girl deserves a big tip.” (Y/N) utters beginning to dig through her purse again before pulling out a small silver flask. Josh was quick to raise a brow but grin as he pushed his mug to her, excited by the idea of a morning pick me up.

Jake on the other hand looked at her with distaste, “Jesus (Y/N), it’s 11 in the morning.” He whispered,

(Y/N) looked at him before laughing in disbelief, “You expect me to take that from you? Really? I watched you do several shots before our finals.” She chuckled, beginning to pour a little amber liquid into her coffee as well as Josh’s. “Scratch that, you made me join you in doing several shots before our finals.” She continued.

Jake quickly pinched the bridge of his nose knowing she was right, he had a hard time not laughing a little. “That-- that was different. I was stressed.” He tells her,

“Mhm.” She nods, clearly not paying attention to his excuses as she sipped her spiked coffee. “I also remember something else happening that day… what was it…” She uttered in a clearly loaded way, she knew what happened but wanted to trudge it up as painfully as she could.

Josh took his mug, “He puked all over Rebecca M.” He chimed in adding a bit of sugar to his coffee, making (Y/N) grin and Jake snicker a little more clearly, still embarrassed by that. “And then she wreaked of gin for the rest of the day.” Josh cheered.

“Oh god she was so mad…” Jake laughed as he rubbed his eyes,

(Y/N) scoffed, “Of course she was Jake! I don’t think anyone enjoys being thrown up on.” She and Josh began to laugh a little making Jake hide his face away more. They barely noticed as Annie placed the new mug on the table, and snuck away yet again. (Y/N) without a thought poured a touch of the alcohol into Jake’s glass.

The dynamic had always flowed differently when it was the three of them; something about it encouraged more laughter and pulled more memories of funny times, it was how (Y/N) remembered it being with the Kiszka twins. Clearly she had been right to think that despite what had happened between her and the two of them as individuals they could always come back to times like this when they were all together.

#josh kiszka #josh gvf #josh kiszka x reader #josh kiszka fic #jake gvf #jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #gvf fanfiction #sam gvf #danny gvf #Greta Van Fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet roleplay #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet imagine #gvf imagine #gvf #what friends do

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osferth · 3 years ago

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lost in translation || part 2: finan's revenge

summary: after months of lying in wait, finan decides that now, it is osferth's turn to get tricked. however things go a little worse than he originally planned.

tagging: @marv-llous @othermoony @cheerylogan @lauwrite1225 @volvaaslaug @morosemagick @emilyhufflepufftlk @for-bebbanburg @maggiescarborough @solinarimoon

part one

Osferth had not let Finan forget about the incident with Hild for several weeks. Every time they seemingly came close to forgetting, Osferth would bring it up and everyone would collapse into laughter once again. Finan would join in, but if Osferth thought the Irishman was just going to let this slide, he would be sorely mistaken.

The same day it had happened, Finan had already started planning his own revenge. He knew it would take patience, a virtue he felt he was lacking in, but he could not rush this - Osferth was not stupid. He would know immediately what Finan was up to if he was suddenly being offered Gaelic lessons.

So Finan had no choice but to wait. Weeks turned into months, and eventually a whole year had passed before he found the perfect opportunity to strike.

The alehouse was busy that evening as Finan found them both a table in the far corner, the best one in his opinion. From a table across them, he could hear men speaking Gaelic interspersed with loud peals of laughter, and Osferth immediately nudged him.

"Are they Irish too?" he asked.

Finan grinned. "I think they are," he said. "We should go an' say hello. Come on, baby monk."

However, Osferth did not stand up. "I don't speak Gaelic, Finan," he said.

Fighting the smirk that threatened to rise on his face felt almost impossible, but Finan managed it somehow. "I'll tell 'em that," he said, "unless you'd like to impress them an' speak some Gaelic too."

Finan was half-expecting Osferth to shake his head and decline, but to his surprise the young man nodded, seemingly having forgotten the Latin incident. "What do I say?"

"Well, y'know, somethin' general. 'Hello, it's good to meet you', that sort of thing."

"Yes, but in Gaelic," said Osferth in a deadpan voice when Finan did not elaborate.

The Irishman smirked. "I'm gettin' there, I'm gettin' there," he said. "'Brísfaídh mé do magairlí' means 'hello, it's a pleasure to meet you'. Quite formal but y'are meetin' a stranger, after all."

He repeated it slowly several more times until Osferth had managed to pronounce it as correctly as he could manage.

"Brísfaídh mé do magairlí," Osferth said, looking pleased with himself when Finan finally decided it was up to scratch. "Shall we go and talk to them now?"

Finan laughed, patting his arm. "Patience," he said in a wise voice, as though he was a master at it himself. "You can't just greet them and leave it at that, can you?"

Osferth frowned. "I s'pose not."

"Usually," continued Finan, "they'd reply with 'téigh trasna ort féin', which means 'we are very well, thank you, how are you', or 'dun do bheal', which is a more informal version of that, I'd say."

Watching Osferth nodding along and trying to remember everything he was saying almost made Finan feel bad.

Almost.

"What should I say to that?" asked Osferth.

"Well, normally, you'd say 'good, thank you'."

"In Gaelic," he repeated, rolling his eyes. The Irishman couldn't stifle a laugh.

"Only pullin' your leg, baby monk," he grinned. "This is a bit of a long one, but you'd be expected to say 'rach thu agus a' sgoil an leathar de bhur paithar'. It means exactly what I just told you."

Osferth's eyes widened slightly at the amount he was having to learn, but Finan did not mind being patient for that much longer while he helped him practise his pronunciation, until it was nearly perfect.

Finally, Finan set down his mug of ale, grinning at the prospect of finally getting Osferth back for what he had done the previous year. "We can go over now, if you like," he said, laughing at how enthusiastic the poor bastard was in getting up.

Osferth was muttering the phrases he had learned under his breath, practising his pronunciation all the way over to the table of Irishmen.

Finan briefly greeted his fellow countrymen in Gaelic, and was received well - it was only natural, after all. Before he could lose the chance, he quickly pushed Osferth forward to divert attention from himself, having told the men there was something the young man wanted to tell them. The men looked towards him in friendly anticipation.

"Brísfaídh mé do magairlí," announced Osferth with all the confidence in the world. Finan had to look down to the ground to avoid his laughter being seen, much the same way Osferth had at the nunnery.

The men all looked at each other. Some of them were smirking, others were frowning.

"Gabh mo leithscéal?" said the man seated closest to Osferth with an amused expression. Although Finan knew that meant 'excuse me', Osferth did not. Regardless, the poor man continued on.

"Rach thu agus a' sgoil an leathar de bhur paithar," he grinned.

The man's smirk immediately fell away, to be replaced with an angry glint in his eye.

"Féachaint ar do bhéal," he said in warning, standing up to face him. Finan was about to intervene, knowing that Osferth had just been told to watch his mouth, but before he could say anything, the man had already repeated himself.

"Rach thu agus a' sgoil an leathar de bhur paithar," he said, emphasising his words a little more.

Finan knew at once that it had gone too far. As he was about to pull Osferth aside and explain to the men that it was all a large misunderstanding, the man drew his fist back and punched Osferth square in the face, nearly sending him sprawling to the ground had Finan not caught hold of him. He pulled him to one side before the man could hit him again.

"Finan!" Osferth said demandingly, roughly wiping the blood streaming from his nose. "Finan, what was that? What happened? What did I - what did he hit me for?"

Swearing profusely under his breath, Finan stood in between them, frantically explaining to the men that it had all been a joke, that Osferth did not understand a word of the language he had just spoken and that Finan himself had put him up to this. "It's not his fault," he said, his arm still shielding Osferth. "It's my fault, not his."

Another man, one who had been snickering from the beginning, spoke up. "You chose the wrong man, that's all," he said amiably. "Cathán's got a fuckin' temper on him. What's more, he's got a little sister back home."

"What's that got to do with anything?" asked Osferth irritably, his words a little muffled from his continued attempts to stem the bleeding.

"You told him first that you'd break his balls," Finan said apologetically, "and then you told him to go an' fuck his sister. Twice."

As the men seated at the table roared with laughter, Osferth glared at Finan, who felt more than a little ashamed. If looks could kill, he would have been six feet under a long time ago.

"Sorry," he added, a little feebly.

Osferth rolled his eyes and turned to leave, one hand still held under his nose. Quickly Finan apologised to the group, before he caught up with him. "I'm sorry, baby monk, really," he said, stopping him with a hand. "Here." He handed Osferth a cloth, which was taken rather reluctantly, but it did help.

"Was this your revenge, then?" Osferth asked, looking slightly less annoyed now. "You waited an awfully long time for it."

Finan shrugged. "I had to make sure you'd forget."

"It must've killed you, having to wait so long," continued Osferth, now smiling.

"It nearly did."

Osferth laughed. "So, we're even. What do we do now?"

Finan stopped him in his tracks, looking more serious than he had ever looked before as he posed his own question.

"D'you reckon Sihtric needs a Gaelic lesson?"

#the last kingdom #tlk #osferth #finan #finan the agile #the last kingdom fanfic #my writing #lost in translation #tagged those who might be interested aswell as those who were on there last time #if u want to be removed / added lmk!!!

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selinakidreams · 4 years ago

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year six at hogsmeade

ho ho ho! Merry Christmas! This fic is for the @haikyuucreationsadm secret santa event! dedicated to @ichorizaki ! sol, I hope this gives you the warm fuzzies!

genre: fluff

warnings: none!

tags: harry potter au!, gn! reader, friends to lovers, yams is a lil over protective, fake dating (if you squint really really hard), yamaguchi’s pov !

a/n: no i do not hate the character i put as the slytherin (i’m not gonna spoil anything <3 teehee) i did it almost as an easter egg ...? like if you remember how yams reacted when he heard a certian thing come from his mouth,,,,,,, you’ll understand why- the clip was playing in my head on repeat while writing it lmao (super vauge ik but ah ha haa)

Both of your school capes sashae across the cold stoned floor as you two head to the one class you had together. The air was nippy; delicate flakes of snow danced around the sky until they landed on the ground. Yamaguchi hugged his books closer to his chest in hopes to ease the lack of warmth. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw you nuzzle into your silver and green scarf that was already bundled up to your nose.

‘Cute,’ he thought to himself- and when it comes to you, that word comes up in his head quite a lot.

Far from being his favorite class, Yamaguchi Tadashi had to get used to the defense against the dark arts course. It was very… out there for him in the beginning. By pushing his limits, it created a wave of self-consciousness that would wash over him, resulting in the feeling of incompetence. Thankfully you were there to encourage and support him, just as you had been since the day you guys met. It was something about your strength and determination- he learned that through the years when you had an idea, a goal, or a project in mind, you would see it through. It was so inspiring to young Yamaguchi, the little boy constantly cowering away from anything that seemed too much. He would constantly be picked on and could never speak the words that clogged his throat but then you came along with a single snarky remark to end all of theirs. There was no time between the moment he words left your lips and when your hand slipped into his- pulling him away from any sense of loneliness he would ever feel again. You were there for all the big moments, from when he first got his letter to him getting sorted into Gryffindor to him trying out for their quidditch team. You two had been absolutely inseparable and neither of you would change a thing.

Yamaguchi cherished walking to class with you- the way you fit so well in the environment… he just couldn't take his eyes off of you. His favorite version of you was in the winter because you just looked so much cozier. The dark colors of your house heavily contrasted against the bright sparkling snow that reflected natural light into the corridor. The pink that tinted the tips of your ears made his heart skip a beat. If it hadn't been for you stopping by the opened door way, he would have completely missed the entrance to the classroom because of his… observations. He motioned you go in first, your eyes crinkled in thanks as you stepped inside and he swears that you caused a heart palpitation.

It was your guy’s sixth year at Hogwarts and by far Tadashi's favorite Defense Against the Dark Arts course yet. The teacher, Remus Lupin, had such a way of teaching that it was not only fun and interactive, but also incredibly informative- the prime way for him to learn. He was so happy that Lupin’s tactics were sticking, this meant he didn't have to cling to you for help as he had previously; He was able to show you that he was capable of being strong on his own. Whenever you showed your delight at Tadashi’s progress, he only wanted to work harder.

“Hey so… after class, did you want to go to Hogsmeade and get something to drink from Honeyduke’s? It’s all snowy out and it’s the perfect weather for something warm and comforting.” You grinned as the both of you took your seats, conveniently across from each other, the only thing that separated you two was a slim isle way. Yamaguchi turned to you with a small smile curving his lips, “Yea, sounds good but just remember I have practice later so I can't be out too la-“ his last word was cut off by an obnoxious scoff from the keeper from the Slytherin quidditch team.

“That was supposed to be our practice, you know. Daichi snatched up our usual practice time.” Koganegawa Kanji said snottily, judgmentally eyeing Tadashi up and down before turning his gaze to you. Suddenly there was a different type of look in his eyes, a bright one that showed that he believed he could secure all sorts of things… including you. “Those Gryffindors think they can take whatever they want, but I know what we're going to be taking. The win at our next game… which just so happens to be against Gryffindor. You’re going to be there, right y/n?” He practically beamed to you as he kept side-eyeing Yamaguchi.

Before you could even answer- before he could even realize what was coming out of his mouth- your shy, kind hearted, wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly Tadashi rolled his eyes and said, “Yea they’re going, they’re going to be screaming out my name when I catch that snitch.”

Your eyes widened as you turned to him with your jaw slack, the sexual innuendo in the forefront of your mind but when facing your freckled best friend, it looked like he couldn't believe he was able to even speak up. Yamaguchi is not one for confrontation or someone who initiates fights… but when things come down to you, he acts in ways he doesn’t recognize- for painfully obvious reasons.

“You better watch that mouth of yours, Yamaguchi, or else i might just have to zip it up.” The Slytherin hissed, getting ready to reach for his want but stopped in his tracks when his gaze caught sight of a scruffy man in his mid 30’s standing behind the frozen Gryffindor, hands in his pockets and a brow raised.

“Now… I know you were not about to hex mister Yamaguchi inside of my class, right Mister Koganegawa?” Professor Lupin tempted, a small smirk danced on his lips with the unmissable glint of entertainment that twinkled in his warm eyes.

The professor didn’t give the boy a chance to answer, instead turned around and headed to the front of the classroom while saying, “Return to your seat Koganegawa, I expect whatever hex you were going to cast was going to be a naughty one. Well ironically, today’s lesson is focused on learning to reflect those nasty curses…” The whole class settled in for the lecture as Tadashi sneaked a peak at the reaction that had been plastered on your face- boy, was it a cute one. Both of your lips curled in with saucer eyes, cheeks tinted a faint red, as if you were holding back a laugh that was forcing its way out.

<♥︎>

After Lupin bid the class adue for the day, everyone went their separate ways; Tadashi held you close as you both headed to Hogsmeade, his arm draped over your shoulder as you leaned into him for warmth. The walk had been a comfortable silence until you spoke out your curiosity to break the ice, hitting him with the million dollar question.

“Hey, what happened back in Lupin’s class? That was.. odd.. of you to say.” You inquired. Normally when you catch Tadashi off guard or in a vulnerable state, a cute blush dusts along the apple of his cheeks and the tips of his ears. You knew you were robbed of the sight, the cold had beat you to it, a violent scarlet already bared his skin.

He let out a sigh, the breath showing itself in the cold, before he muttered, “I’m just tired of him openly ogling at you like you’re some toy. It’s not cool.”

You responded with a slight hum, the real reply bouncing off the walls of your brain: I can't believe we’re not together by now.

“Oh yams,” you chuckle as you huddle closer into his side.

<♥︎>

Passing under the grand Hogsmeade archway, he was grateful that there were barely any students about- this meant you guys could get your drinks faster and walk around the shops easier. With the antique green and pink building in sight, the beeline to the shop’s entrance was determined.

“Okay okay, let me guess…” you started as Yamaguchi held open the door for you to walk in, already eyeing the colorful treats that decorated the room, “you want a hot chocolate.”

“And you want a hot strawberry tea.” Tadashi retorted with a smile.

“It’s almost like… we’ve known each other for years.” You say, your tone dripping in sarcasm as he watches your finger trace over the newest candy they sold.

Sol, a sweet that’ll brighten your day! The container said, with a picture of what looked to be an edible ball of light. Supposedly, once it hits your tongue, it melts into the flavor you're craving most.

After inspecting the shelves around the store for any new and exciting treats, you both headed to the register where Tadashi placed the drinks order and fished out two golden galeons and five silver sickles. He snuck a glance at you admiring the brightly colored walls to make sure you weren't looking as he slipped the cashier the two packets of sol he stealthily grabbed and handed them three extra sickles. A sweet surprise for later.

Leaving the store, Yamaguchi watched the way your hands slipped around the warm cup, the tips of your fingers slightly intertwined. He wanted nothing more than to take your cup out of your hands and intermingle his fingers with yours…but he couldn’t, it would be crossing a line, wouldn’t it? Nevertheless, the image of holding your- probably- freezing hand was on his mind the whole time you two were walking around the village you knew all too well.

Deciding that it was pretty late you guys began to head back to the castle. The snow crunched underneath your boots with almost empty cups in your hands, you knew it wasn't going to take long before you’d be greeted by the back entrance of the castle. “‘Dashi… do you have to go to practice? I… i need help with Lupin’s coursework.” you stutter out, causing Yamaguchi to pause and turn toward you.

This took him by surprise, normally you were really good with your coursework, so for the roles to switch… something had to be off.

“ y/n... You know I can't. The team said they really need me there. Daichi would have my head if I missed practice. The game against Slytherin is so close and I really need to-” he cut himself off before he could reveal too much or get too annoyed, the flash of Koganegawa smirking flashed in the back of his mind.

“you need to… what? I saw your last game and the way you soared through the air was incredible, it didn't seem like you needed to work on anything!” you pouted with damn wide eyes.

Tadashi tried to ignore the slight increase in his heart's beating pace, “aha well..” he said as he lifted his arm to scratch the back of his head, “we’re a team and they need me as much as i need them!” you stopped walking so he turned to face you.

He watched the small sad smile creep onto your face before hearing you mutter, “Jeez, when did my Tadashi become so popular?”

For Yamaguchi to not lean in and plant a kiss on your lips, something had to be holding him back... but there was nothing- if anything, you seemed to slightly lean in.

He figured that you'd assume that the first move was going to be on your part, as it normally was when something serious would happen between the two of you but he wanted to prove to you that he's changed. He's not scared anymore. He has no reason to be. He’s learned so much about himself throughout the years because of you. You're the reason he was the social person he was today. And he was the one that finally connects your lips with his.

Due to the cold and dry winter, both lips are not as smooth as wanted but it doesn't stop him from deepening the long awaited kiss. He placed his open palms on your waist and his fingers gave you a small squeeze when he heard you sigh into the kiss.

When Yamaguchi felt your arms around his neck, he swore the world stopped turning for a second. The warmth that he was feeling was unmatched- this was warmer than any other winter coat had made him.

When he pulled away, your arms stayed around his neck and he refused to let his hands leave your waist.

“I uh-“ at this point Yamaguchi’s face was bright pink, yours being no different, “um I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” You said, cutting him off.

Tadashi had to blink a few times, as if he was clearing his vision because what he just heard wasn’t possible.

“N-no way…” he mumbled, looking at the ground next to you. Tadashi almost felt overwhelmed but one thing's for certain, the weight of needing to properly confess was only getting heavier so he gulped down his anxiety- as you had taught him so many times before- and brought his eyes to meet yours.

“Y/n… I’m so in love with you. I have been for so long-”

Something red wizzed before your guys’ eyes, cutting off his huge confession. His eyes became wide at the hovering letter facing him.

A howler.

Before you could even raise an eyebrow, the letter opened itself in the shape of an origami mouth.

“Yamaguchi, YOU ARE LATE FOR PRACTICE! WHY? WHAT COULD BE SO IMPORTANT THAT IT’S CAUSING YOU TO MISS PRACTICE?” the letter with daichi’s deep voice boomed around the empty of the woods. It began to look around, as if it could see the surrounding area- which was weird because typically howlers were only used to relay a (very loud and disappointed) message. When the envelope eventually faced you, the bottom of the mouth dropped and seemed to gulp.

“Ah.. i see.. Hi y/n… um,” the letter turned to face Yamaguchi before reminding him to go to practice and ripping itself apart.

It was silent for a second, neither of you knew what to say.

“I dunno but it almost sounded like Daichi wanted me to go to practice.” was the first thing he said. He watched your face contort from a small smile to a full out grin joined with a hearty laugh.

“Let's get you to class ‘Dashi.” you said as you wound down from your laughing fit. Holding out your hand, the expression you gave him was one that he never saw from you before. The corner of his eyes crinkled with how genuine he was smiling as he took your hand, finally getting to entwine your fingers together as you guys headed to the quidditch field.

Ps. yes you did scream out his name when he caught the snitch- it didn't go unnoticed...

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afniel · 3 years ago

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Imma put some (heavy? I'm not sure? I don't go into any graphic details of anything bad but I guess it's a big topic, check the tags if you want to know more) mental health stuff under the cut, so, here's the cut.

I'm feeling like I can and maybe should be a little more open about this recently, so...I've realized that it's highly likely that I've got Dissociative Identity Disorder. Now granted, I'm not diagnosed at the time of this post, but it's something I've been living with for basically my entire life already, and I've got a ton of practice dealing with myself and working through shit, so I'm pretty sure it is what it is. Plus, honestly, how else do you explain containing several other people who are also me except all of these mes don't necessarily share access to each other's memories or skills*, which occasionally causes some really difficult shit for all of me. I'm self-aware enough that I notice missed time and holes in my memory now—we don't ask about the times I couldn't notice them, those are pretty bad times—and the only alter I have who's even capable of fully taking over if I blank out isn't even really distinguishable from me, he's just funnier. And I've got pretty decent communication methods with all of them, which aren't even that many at this point...I used to have a few more. (I would pay the super organized one with the great fashion sense to come back, though, damn.)

And yes, before anyone comes in like, "Well, Ackshually, you need to have experienced repeated, regular trauma before the age of—" ...don't assume that I didn't, man, because I did. I blocked it all from memory for years until 2020 started unearthing shit because I had nothing but time and nothing to do but introspect, and I just wasn't ready to accept it until then. To be clear, I definitely don't mean any sort of fun or self-induced kind of multiplicity, here, I mean the sort where at several points in my life I've had people tell me that I did/said stuff I don't even remember and would never normally do/say when I legitimately believed I was asleep. And then I blocked those out of memory too, because why not at that point. It's a self-defense mechanism, and one that's very hard to distinguish from ADHD and fibro and sleep disturbance memory problems, any of which are shitty enough on their own.

Honestly it doesn't mean anyone has to do anything differently around me. I'm still Me, I've just realized that I never quite got glued together right during some developmental stages because of environmental pressure to, in fact, not do that at all, because it was a lot easier to function that way. None of my parts feel like Entirely Not Me, they've got names and different voices and all but as a whole I don't want to be addressed differently, it's just this weird feeling of realizing that my brain runs very oddly, looking under the hood, and finding out that it's not even assembled but it's somehow managing to carry on anyway...and has been like this since I was a child, which is clear in hindsight now that I'm not involuntarily blanking everything about it out.

I'm gonna at some point here try and see if I have access to any therapists who can work with DID, 'cause man, it kinda sucks and I wouldn't mind managing it better. I'm not doing badly now, but I haven't been doing spectacularly in general with it, so, y'know. There's always room to improve.

(I'm especially mad that I'm funnier than myself, what the actual fuck. How does that even work.)

*Footnote: I discovered the hard way that my most functional guardian sort of alter actually can't draw, he just cribs off of my memory if he needs to do it because he's got nearly full access to it (though I have only middly access to his memory), but we switched so abruptly one time that I kinda shunted off into nowhere for a very confusing 20-30 seconds of staring at the tablet going, "Hey, wow, this is really good. Who drew—oh shit, I'm drawin' this? Oh no. I have no fuckin' idea how to draw, fuck, what do I do?" until everything kinda stopped bluescreening. Funny in retrospect but also very much an Oh No This Is Serious Isn't It moment.

Plus side, he also doesn't have fibromyalgia, which is GREAT but another sign that hey, uh, something is not working as expected here, because why would I just sometimes not have a chronic condition, but only when I'm in this REALLY specific mental state...? Brains are wild, y'all.

#mental health stuff #do I dare tag it...eh yeah why not #Dissociative Identity Disorder #actually dissociative #actually DID #add another weird thing about me to the weird thing list I guess

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hoopdiddies · 5 years ago

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I'm Not Over You// Ben Hardy x Reader (10.1)

A/N: The last part! Here you go! Thanks for supporting the entire series, guys. Means a lot ♥ ♥

Summary: A wedding brought you apart and it will be a wedding that will bring you back together

Warnings: Microscopic angst and FULL ON FLUFF

WC: 3k

Tags: @haendel-me-with-care

@mrsdoradominguez-barnes

@mickmoon

@lakef

@mrsmazzello

@valeriecarolinaw

@queen-turtle-boiii

@loveandbeloved29

@hazme2

@boherahpsody

Parts: 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

"What- I thought Gwil- never mind, did I hurt your shoulder?" You stumble over your words and he chuckles, the curve his red lips are sporting making your insides melt.

"No, you didn't."

"Oh thank heavens. Sure I didn't add to your injuries? " You had to say it but luckily, he shakes his head good-naturedly and seems to have shrugged off the issue. "I'm okay now. I've been for so long actually." At least you've got the conversation going, against the odds of you doubting that it might've ended up awkward with how long you haven't been in touch. You smile crookedly and rub your arm, sighing profoundly to say another word but as you open your mouth to do so, Ben beats you to it. "What about you? How've you been?"

You shrug. "Same old but tortured...and pissed...at Joe...for doing me injustice like that." He rubs the back of his hair and cocks his head to one side. "Oh? Tell me about it."

You give him a brief, speculative look– thinking that it's a miracle you're talking normally like you haven't kissed each other the day you left him lamenting on a hospital bed, been in contact for an entire year and made love with your eyes during the ceremony– in that order.

You snap out of it and look around the busy reception. "I- well-"

"To make it easier, let's head out for a walk on the beach, shall we?" Ben steps aside to let you leave before him and you tuck a tendril of your hair behind your ear, nodding as you walk ahead. He follows you out and you glance over your shoulder, looking past him and seeing Joe wiggle his brows at you from their table– to which you widen your eyes in annoyance and a little gratitude.

Your walk has been graced with the twinkle of a thousand stars and the calm splash of the evening waves against the shore. You've let your hair down from the tight bun you've put it in and taken off your sandals to traipse along the water while Ben remains along the dry sand to stay practical– not that you aren't. He just has his shoes on while you're holding onto yours.

You haven't strolled far from the party with the lamps spanning from the vicinity within the reception still present as you tread along. You've told him all about Barcelona and your studies and everything else concerning your life there; so far it's been good and jolly. He's taken a new project and is in the process of filming, something you've congratulated him on as well– the previous one being his full recovery and you didn't bother to bring up the prior events to that, it might just lead to something you'd lose your voice to talk about. It's a relief that you are able to share a few laughs in between, something you thought wouldn't be possible anymore. You haven't talked to each other like this is ages.

"I guess we're both working our fingers to the bone." He chuckles and stops in his tracks to enjoy the breeze. You involuntarily mimic his stance and stand semi-still on the water, tossing your sandals onto the driest part of the sand. "I guess. Business before pleasure they say."

"Well my business is my pleasure so it seems like it only applies to you." The smile on his face widens thoroughly and you scoff underneath your breath, swinging your leg back and forth, creating mini splashes. "Excuse me, it applies to neither of us. I love working for something I know will finally lead to my dream."

He hums and bends down to pick up a pebble, casting it smoothly against the water and makes three skips. "It just occurred to me that you never once told me anything about your dream to become a doctor or anything." You give him a fleeting smile and shake your head, crossing your arms as you begin admiring the sky. "If I had told anyone, it wouldn't come true."

"Seriously?"

You raise your hands up briefly in defense and let out a chuckle, bending down to pick up a pebble to skip as well. "I'm living proof that it's effective, you should try it sometime." While you cast your pebble and watch it skip, he studies you intently and with great focus, drawing in a sharp breath before taking off his shoes to join your spot in the shallow water. He sets it aside and stands next to you, lifting his gaze up to the sky and then to you as you take in the cluster of stars dotting the heavens.

The gleam in your eyes as you beam at the starry view puts him under a spell and you sense his piercing stare, encouraging you to catch his fixed look. "What is it this time?"

He gulps, his mouth going dry. "I've sent you a message a couple of weeks back. Never got a response from you..."

You angle your head to one side amusingly. "I replied? Maybe you just don't check your inbox that much- and wait, I changed my number, how did you-"

"Our boy, Joe."

Of course. Joe really needs a new girl in his life, he must be exhausted from being such a mediator.

"And yes, I don't check my inbox a lot. Busy as a bee lately." He adds with a defeated smile present. You weave your fingers together, keeping your vision limited to the horizon yet sensing his eyes penetrate through you.

A little shy to let him see your blush creeping up your cheeks, you tear yourself away from his gaze and sigh inwardly. "I know that look somehow."

"For the third time asked in this lifetime, would you care to finish the dance we had at the after party? A dance to satisfy all the dances we never had the chance to finish. "

Your mouth shamelessly hangs like an attic door with loose hinges at how he was able to remember that. You recall his attending physician say that there would be no risks of amnesia or any sort of memory loss, although he shouldn't be able to recall minor details.

But then your dance wasn't a minor memory.

Ben's still waiting for your answer and you recompose yourself from the jaw drop, stuttering in the slightest as you speak up. "Uh y-yeah. I mean, we never get to finish dances, am I right?"

Without tethering himself from taking your hand in his, he draws you close to him, the movement of your legs making small ripples and swishes in the water. You can't keep a firm eye on him and as he understands your uncertainty due to how long it's been since the pair of you have closed a distance, he manually positions your arms around his neck, putting a little forethought into snaking his hands around your waist to ease you into it again.

"Hey, like old times, right?" He cajoles softly and you look up at him.

"Like old times." You repeat after him and find it easy to stare into his eyes again, once more submitting yourself to the metronomic beat of your heart. He initiates with light sway, feeling the crashing waves beneath your feets put an effect to how you're moving. With you studying every detail of his face adoringly, you notice the small yet noticeable scar on the near left of his forehead; a small residue of his injury. You frown as you reach up to trace your finger smoothly across his scar, your heart breaking at the memory of that night.

Ben takes notice of your flitting expression and cups your cheek to alleviate the worry you've put yourself in at the sight of his scar. "Hey, hey. Don't worry about it, I'm okay now."

You hang your head apologetically, chewing on your bottom lip with the urge to bring up what you wanted to suppress out of guilt.

"I'm sorry if I left you like that. At the time you really needed me the most, I scrammed and ghosted you for an entire year. I broke my promise, your arm and a small fraction of your skull," as inappropriate as it is to laugh a little at it, you let it slip past your lips anyway to give it a stretch and lighten the weight on your shoulders, "and it's all thanks to Joe for making up that worst case scenario."

Joe did say you'd hurt him on every possible level– ranging from physical to spiritual. Though you didn't afflict him physically per se, your carelessness on the highway did. "I'm so sorry, Ben, for letting my emotions get in the way of what we had. Our friendship. You loved someone else then and being in a way cursed with unrequited feelings, I-I had to distance myself."

He assures you with a loose smile, twirling you under his arm and leisurely pulling you back to his body. "Every bit of it is alright. I had sworn on the day we met that I'd protect you with every fiber of my being and I should be the one that's sorry. All you ever did was love me," he stares down at you intimately, lifting your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles, "though how clueless and unbearable I was," a kiss to your wrist, "through all my complaints and nasty fits," a kiss to your cheek, the sensation making you giggle slightly, "through my clumsy tendencies, " a kiss to your nose, "through all my mood swings after a bad day on set," an elongated kiss on your forehead, parting away deliberately before flicking his eyes to your lips and back to your Y/E/C orbs. He gulps audibly at how he's asking you for permission to do it. "When I couldn't return that love to you because I was blind enough to let Rosy stay. For loving me...in both my lowest and highest."

He's risking a few inches in but you can tell he's holding back. You slacken your arms from his neck, little by little dropping them to your sides as his green eyes finally overwhelm you.

The corner of his eyes crinkle as he smiles, breathing out the words you've long waited for. "You've held my heart in your hands even when you were miles away and though you won't be staying for long, I'll always be waiting." In the same way you had when you left, you tip your head back to let his lips meet yours only this time it doesn't take him by surprise. Your lips don't move against each other for a few seconds and you pull away, breathless.

His green eyes are wide yet flecked with awe, unruly brows lightly creased together with small strands of his combed back, blond hair falling into them but they soften as the smile on his face widens. "You're not with Joe, are you?"

You chuckle, shaking your head and heaving out a defining exhale. "I never was. You're not with Rosy anymore, are you?"

He shakes his head as well and it appears the blissful grin on his face won't be coming off anytime soon.

"Long done. I love you, and you alone."

You'll be blaming him later for the ear-splitting grin now etched on your face.

"I love you too, Benjamin."

He throws his head back in relief and lifts you up in his arms, tilting his head back as he savors the full feeling of your lips on his, the kiss gradually becoming open-mouthed.

As if on cue, the fireworks meant for Rami and Lucy come launching up into the sky and bursting into bright colors, the sparks raining down and vanishing into thin air shortly after. Cheers of the people emanate from the party as Lucy and Rami share the same kiss from outside at the same time you and Ben are. You pull away with unridable grins on your faces and share the magical sight of the fireworks lighting up the night sky with no other disturbances to ruin the moment.

"You think they'd start wondering where we are?" You hum with your head rested against his chest. He kisses your hair and smiles as he tightens his hold around you, revelling deep in the moment.

"They'd get the idea, babe. They'd get the idea."

Lucy was right, Ben has always been your soulmate; the three dances you've had in your lifetime somehow always brought you back to each other. Hopefully the one you just had will be the one that will never tear you both apart ever again.

You've yet to thank Joe for tricking you into thinking that it was Gwilym he wanted to spin you off to.

How magical is that tape you used to stick the polaroids together?

It somehow pieced you and Ben in the same manner and stood the test of time.

-Fin-

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