#just a lil something something while i fight against frosty once again

[deimcs]

HABITAT 7 / mass effect: andromeda, prologue.

[sweetteaanddragons]

Here am I again bc apparently the Silmarillion™️ now lives in my head rent free and I like ur interpretation of the characters (some of ur fics also live in my head rent free) ... Do u think things would improve or go more horribly wrong if Feanor was the youngest Finwean? Like if Miriel was the second wife? Idk if everything is less or more of a disaster bc in one hand I think Fingolfin is a tiny bit more well adjusted than Feanor at least when his mother is the one living (Unless he like Feanor would feel a lil bit threatened by his lil brother genius? Is he being replaced here?) and there’s also the fact that I hope that Feanor would be a little less of a disaster If his mother lived (Unless he convinced himself that he has to be better than everyone if he wants her to stay or something like that) but on the other hand that family is a powder keg waiting to explode no matter what u change

Ps: Is Feanor still Finwe favorite child or does this change bc he’s not the only living reminder of the wife he loved and lost? Bc if he’s still the favorite I don’t think that would help with the feelings of “is dad replacing us?” That could possibly arise in his other children.

If Feanor is still the favorite I suppose there’s a little more protectiveness now that he’s the youngest...

Ps 2: Does Feanor being younger affect the age of his children by much 🤔

Thank you! This one took some thought.

Okay, so the initial change is easy enough. Finwe marries Indis, Indis dies in childbirth . . .

And that brings up the first question.

Which child?

Fingolfin? It’s certainly a possibility, but then we have to consider what’s going to happen without Finrod and Galadriel. (And his other sons, but they’re less impactful.)

Findis or Lalwen? Do they even exist in this AU?

Or Finarfin?

If it’s the last, then we also have to consider what the age gap between all these kids is in this AU and how their feelings about little baby Arafinwe are complicated by this.

We also have to consider how the political situation gets even trickier. 

Because Indis wasn’t just the Queen of the Noldor.

She was also a princess of the Vanyar.

Which means that while the Vanyar may not get a direct say in what goes down with a potential remarriage, they are definitely going to have an Opinion on it.

I feel like there is probably at least one frosty offer to foster the children that Finwe immediately turns down.

For the sake of argument, let’s say that Findis is on the cusp of adulthood. She is politely present at the marriage ceremony and stays a very precise, very respectable length of time afterward before going to visit her relatives indefinitely.

Nolofinwe, as the crown prince, stays. He has a lot of feelings about the collapse of his once happy feeling, but he’s well into his adolescence and used to hiding things at court. He mostly reacts by emotionally shutting down and very politely refusing to talk to his father about it. He daydreams about storming the gates of Mandos and demanding his mother back.

Lalwen is just on the verge of adolescence and would prefer to spend as much time in the trees in the gardens as possible. She is torn between wanting to play with her baby brother and wanting to avoid him.

Arafinwe is old enough that he is aware that Miriel is not his mother but young enough that most of what’s going on is flying over his head. He warms up to Miriel almost immediately and then spends a few weeks avoiding her out of a vague idea that if he’s around her too much, she’ll die.

That eventually gets more or less cleared up.

So then Miriel has Feanaro! And Miriel - what?

Is fine?

Dies? (Finwe is pretty sure he’s cursed. Arafinwe figures baby Feanaro is like him and they should stick together. The gossips are going wild.)

Survives but is unwell?

Let’s go with that one.

So the thing is, Feanaro is not Feanaro if he does not have something to throw himself against. In canon, it’s his determination to not be replaced in his father’s affections. Here, it’s his determination that he be considered worth it. Worth all the gossip about marred marriages and what comes of them; worth all the trouble with the Vanyar; worth the fractures between his half-siblings and his father; worth his mother’s illness and pain.

What he has going for him, though, is that his mother is still alive and supporting him. He still loves language and still has Opinions on the language shift, but he’s not as ride-or-die about it as in canon; his mother is still alive, queen, and perfectly capable of insisting on whatever pronunciation of her name that she likes, even weakened.

The thing about his relationship with his siblings is that in this AU, they get to set the tone. They’re the ones establishing that tone when he’s still too young to have an opinion on it.

He has almost no relationship with Findis. She sends very polite notes and very respectable gifts on all appropriate occasions; his mother reciprocates on his behalf until he’s old enough to do it, at which point the gifts get a little half-hearted or pointed, depending on the year.

Nolofinwe is . . . fine, but distant. Feanaro doesn’t understand him at all and doesn’t really care to try.

Nolofinwe is also established as the crown prince, and it doesn’t occur to Feanaro to try to take it from him. Politics are boring, court is infuriating, and his projects are much more interesting. Sure, Feanaro is convinced he’s the smartest person in the room, and he wants to be listened to, but in his father’s court, he mostly is already. He’ll poke at Nolo, sometimes, but he has no interest in trying to usurp him. Of course, if something ever does happen to Atar and Nolo does become king, then the distance between “not willing to fight you for the throne” and “actually willing to treat you as an authority figure I should obey” is going to become apparent very quickly. 

As long as Nolo doesn’t tell him to do anything he wasn’t going to do anyway, they’ll be just fine.

Lalwen is fun, but, due to the age gap, is more of an impromptu babysitter than a playmate. As they get older, they’re genuinely affectionate, but it’s complicated by the family mess and made more so by the political one; Lalwen always takes Nolo’s side, and Feanaro has no patience for it.

Arafinwe . . . Arafinwe is a different story.

Arafinwe is a lonely little kid who latches onto his new little half-brother and takes him everywhere and shows him everything in the early days when everyone is still really unsure whether or not Miriel is actually going to die. This closeness remains even after those concerns mostly pass.

What happens from there is . . . I have no idea. Probably not worse of a disaster, but maybe not notably better either.

[sandrawrites13]

snowed in | | the winchesters x reader

request: 50 & 18 with the winchesters x reader? (paraphrased, i didn’t feel like copying loll)

didn’t know if you meant platonic or romantic so here’s some big bros x little sis/bro! reader. if you want romance you can request another one. and yep. 

in his defense, dean was left unsupervised. 

sure, it was small. sam had stepped away for a moment or two to get some work done, but in that moment or two - dean was left unsupervised. and he’s sticking with that excuse, even while thrashing dramatically through the thick four feet of snow in the middle of the forest. 

“we could--.” 

“zip it,” you and sam scolded in unison, you practically drowning from your height difference between the two and the large, large blanket of snow on the ground that was almost as tall as you were. 

“i’m just saying, we could--.” 

“zip it!” you replied, once more in unison, harder. the pout on his lips formed as he peered away. “you don’t get to talk after you threw our keys in the middle of the fucking pond, dean.” 

“it was the duck!” he riposted, encouraging sam to snort in laughter. “it was! he ran into me and SPLASH the stupid keys went boop right in the pond.” 

“stop using onomatopoeias to further your point,” you snipped, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms. you walked in the snow farther, and a little bit faster, when a second wave of wind left chills up your body. 

“ontamata-what?” dean asked, raising his eyebrows in perplexity. sam, fighting back the sight of what seemed like a growl, raised his hand to press it against his forehead, his cheeks red from the cold. 

“i thought you guys knew how to hotwire a car, anyway! i told you we should’ve brought baby. i told you!” you scolded, stomping your feet against the snow to further your point and direct your anger to something instead of one of your brothers. “if we die out here, when i get to heaven, i’m telling cas you’re madly in love with him!” you boldly screamed. when silence ensued, you pouted yourself. “why can’t we call him, anyway?” 

“what’s he gonna do? give us a heater out of nowhere and melt all this snow?” dean asked, now running a hand through his frosted hair. “woah-- look at that! my hair feels like ice.” 

“maybe we can summon frosty!” sam hissed, shuddering. dean, appalled, dropped his hand from his hair, sighing. 

“was just saying. . .” he mumbled. 

“we all know the real reason you don’t wanna call cas is because you know he’ll think you’re stupid for throwing--.” 

“must we go over it again?” he asked, his eyes falling to you. “how the hell aren’t you shivering?” 

you shrugged in reply, about to answer when your eyes fell upon a mysterious wooden structure in the distance. “guys. . .” you whispered, pointing. immediately, all of their eyes fell on the building, their eyes practically lighting up from excitement. 

“a cabin,” sam said, “someone up there is looking out for us.” 

“it’s the angels we’ve saved a few hundred times,” you replied. “or we just stumbled upon it by coincidence.” 

assured, dean stood tall and walked faster, nodding his head, “i think it was the duck,” he said. “thanking me for not murdering him earlier.” 

“good thing we found this cabin or we’d have frozen to death,” sam said, taking a sharp breath and rubbing his hands together. “we stay here until the storm clears up, and then we leave. we’re all in agreement, right?” he asked, placing an arm around you in the stupid big brother way you both loved and despised. 

“uh, about that,” dean started, pushing against the door. “there seems to be a slight issue.” 

immediately, your eyes went wide as you approached the door, sam following shortly behind. dean gave you a forced smile, pushing once more with his shoulder. “dean winchester, if that door is stuck. . .” you threatened. 

the very taller, older man laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “well, uh. . . okay, THIS WASN’T MY FAULT this time.” 

“dean,” you warned. 

“it uh. . . well. . . looks like we’re snowed in. . .” he said, following by awkward chuckling. with fear, he turned to sam. “(your gender)’s not gonna. . . kill me. . . right?”

sam shrugged, nudging you forward. “go wild, lil (bro/sis).” 

[livinglittlelie]

Fate/Interlude

Happy belated birthday @obsucuria! @art-by-kou has commissioned me to write a lil present for you, so here it is! It’s based on Fate/Grand Order (Kou told me you both love this game). 

I hope you enjoy it!

It was a morning like any other, and Izuku was thankful for that. He was sitting on a little clearing of their usual training place, resting his weight on his palms and simply watching the clouds drift away. The tall grass tickled his palms from time to time, and the smell of petrichor filled his nostrils.

His mind was abnormally quiet, something surprising considering how complicated his life had become in the blink of an eye. It was a nice change of pace after being on the move for so long.

Don’t get him wrong; Izuku loved his… job, if you would call it that way. After all, not everyone could say that they worked for Chaldea Security Organization and travelled in time in order to save humanity’s future. Thanks to them, he got the chance to meet amazing people and become the hero he’d strived to be even since he was a kid.

However, even the stronger of men needed to take a break after a while.

At least, that was what Ochako kept telling him when she suggested – more like forced – him to take a break. Izuku wasn’t one to rest; he usually saw the mission more important than his wellbeing, so he would have kept working himself to death if it wasn’t for her intervention. Once she’d caught on how many break days he’d skipped, she had cornered him and asked him sweetly to have a day off.

And Izuku followed her suggestion, because Ochako was very scary when she got mad. More so when she threatened him to use her servants against him.

So that was him, taking a break. To be honest, now that he was resting, he could admit that he had needed it. He had been slowly reaching breaking point without noticing, but he would have continued time lapsing until getting to his limit, if it wasn’t for her. It was just slowing down when he started feeling the physical and mental strain he had been really going through.

So yeah. Slowing down for a bit wasn’t bad, at least from time to time.

Izuku didn’t notice the male figure getting closer to him, but he felt clearly whatever hit him at the back of his head. He let out a startled yelp and turned his head rubbing the sore spot with his fingers. Katsuki was standing behind him, and the dull end of his lance was centimetres away from his face.

“Kacchan, what was that for?” Izuku said with a pout on his lips.

Katsuki scorned. “You’re looking way too relaxed, shitty Deku. There’s still so many enemies to fight and here you are, staring stupidly at the clouds.”

“But Kacchan, Uraraka-san said—”

“Who cares about what that round face says?” He tightened his hold on the lance. “The faster we save the world, the sooner I will get away from you.”

“Can you just shut up for a second?” A sleepy voice grumbled behind them. “I’m trying to sleep.”

Both master and lancer turned to look at Shouto, who was resting with his back against a tree trunk. The caster had his eyes closed, but his brow was clearly frowned in annoyance, betraying his appearance of nonchalance.

Katsuki glared at him. “You’ve got a problem, half and half?!”

“My problem is you.” Shouto opened his eyes. “I can’t believe someone with such a foul mouth and even worse attitude will become a hero in the future.”

Katsuki jumped to his feet and wielded his lance at Shouto, pointing the blade of the end to his neck. Shouto didn’t even flinch. “That’s it! Fight me, you emo bastard!”

“Kacchan, please don’t—!”

“I don’t want to.” Shouto moved the lance away from his throat and fixed Katsuki with a frosty glare. “I have no desire to move from this position, much less for the likes of you. Also, you’re troubling our master, so stop it.”

“Does it look like I care about what dumb Deku thinks?”

“Considering you follow his every command without hesitation, I’d say so, yes. But do you need to complain every second? It’s very annoying.”

Katsuki blushed, but from rage or embarrassment, Izuku didn’t know. “What— You—Shut up!”

Shouto simply huffed in annoyance and closed his eyes again, completely ignoring Katsuki’s shouting. Izuku let out a little sigh and looked up again, tuning out Katsuki as well. After knowing the blonde for so long, it was a pretty easy thing to do.

He could still remember the day when he had first summoned Katsuki. What a shocker had it been to see his childhood friend as a thirty-something-year-old man, considering that the last time he’d seen him was when they were still children. And, despite it had been even longer for Katsuki since he had last seen Izuku, the lancer immediately recognized him and almost messed up the summoning ceremony in the process.

However, Izuku managed to convince a reluctant Katsuki to finish the ritual, finally turning into an official master. Then he met Ochako in one of his missions, and after an accident he would rather not talk about, they became friends. And not long after that he summoned Shouto, a caster from the eighteenth century, and he became Izuku’s second servant.

Since then, they had lived many adventures together, some of them fun, and some others not fun at all. They had faced many hardships and powerful foes, and met a lot of interesting people. There had been times when Izuku seriously thought that they wouldn’t make it alive, but somehow, they managed to overcome all their hardships and stay alive.

Izuku’s mind drifted again to the clouds drifting in the sky. If everything went well, there would be someone staring at the sky many years in the future, just like he was doing now. They would be guessing which shapes the clouds had, or they would simply let their eyes get lost in its clear blue colour, all of them knowing that there was still a future waiting for them.

It was Izuku’s task to ensure that that future came to happen, and he would do everything in his hand to make sure humanity could go on.

And that’s about it! Happy birthday, Levia-san!

(To anyone interested in commissions, DM me)

[littlerose13writes]

Glitter and Snowmen by LittleRose13

Day 7, The 12 Days of Shipmas - Snowman☃️

In which some families are a little too competitive.  

Words: 1,933  Pairings: Harry/Ginny

23rd December, 2015

“It snowed! Everyone wake up right now, it snowed last night and there’s snow everywhere!”

Lily Potter’s dulcet tones woke everyone in the house up within minutes through her sheer excitement. The seven-year-old swung open both her brothers’ doors and she ran into Albus’ room first, jumping on top of him where he lay under his duvet.

“Is it really snowing?” he said excitedly, pushing her off him and jumping out of bed. He ran to the window and pressed his hands and face against it. “We have to tell James, come on!”

Albus grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her from the room. They hurtled into James’ room and Lily repeated her technique of jumping directly on top of her sleeping brother. James was less impressed than Albus had been.

“Geroff me Lily,” he complained, pushing his face deeper into his pillow.

“But James, you have to wake up! It’s snowed!”

“It’ll still have snowed in two hours, goodnight.” He sandwiched his head between two pillows and turned away from them. Lily shared a disappointed look with Albus.

“Fine, I’m gonna wake up Tebby!” She rushed from the room and directly into Harry, who was waiting on the landing.

“Don’t wake Teddy up, Lil,” he said kindly.

“Daddy! Did you know there’s snow?”

“I might have heard you mention it once, yes,” Harry replied, picking his daughter up.

“James won’t wake up and play with us,” she said glumly, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder. From the ground, Albus could see the sly grin she was showing over Harry’s shoulder and he rolled his eyes at his little sister.

“It is a bit early for your brothers.”

“Albus is awake,” Lily said confusedly. “He’s a brother.”

“Well, as we’re the only three up, we get to make the first footprints.”

“Yes!” Lily cried, heading straight for the stairs.

“Stop. Not in pyjamas, your mother will have my head.”

It didn’t take long for Lily, Albus and Harry to be bundled up in coats, boots, hats, scarves and gloves. Lily was wearing James’ Gryffindor hat, which was sure to cause problems when he woke up, but Harry decided to let it slide for now.

“You can go first, Lily. You’re the littlest.”

Her brother was trying to be kind, but Lily resented being referred to as little. Harry could clearly see the internal battle she was undergoing, torn between not wanting to admit she was the littlest but also wanting to be the first out in the snow.

“Same time!” she cried eventually, grabbing Albus’ hand and jumping from the doorstep into the blanket of snow covering the garden. Her blue wellies sank into the surface with a satisfying crunch right beside Albus’ orange pair. He grinned down at his sister and they both sprinted off as fast as they could in the thick snow.

By the time everyone else was up and dressed for the snow, Harry had cast several warming charms over his youngest two children, who refused to come inside and warm up properly. Harry didn’t blame them; this was the first time it had snowed properly where they lived since Lily was a baby.

Snow always reminded him of Hogwarts and fond memories of snowball fights with the Weasleys; building snowmen with only a little magic help; sending Trevor the toad skidding across the frozen lake surface. Now stood here watching his children experience the wonder snow provided was just as delightful.

Despite now being a first year at Hogwarts and often too grown up to play with his little brother and sister like he used to, James emerged with a pure and childlike joy on his face. He came running out into the garden, immediately gathering a handful of snow and firing it at Harry, who dutifully allowed it to hit him full in the face. James cheered and went to scoop up more.

Teddy was a seventh year and Ginny a fully grown adult and yet they too were laughing hysterically, snow flying everywhere. There was something about snow that turned anyone into a child again.

“I want to build a snowman!” Lily exclaimed after a while.

“Me too!” Albus agreed, immediately scrabbling at the ground to make a start.

“Everyone should build one! A best snowman competition!” Lily cried in excitement.

“Wait, that’s not fair because the grown-ups can use magic!” Albus protested.

Lily considered this for a second. “Okay, put your hand up if you can use magic.”

Harry, Ginny and Teddy exchanged amused looks and obediently put their hands up. James’ hand shot up too.

“Legally, James. You’re a first year.”

James scowled at Ginny’s comment.

“Mum, you can build a snowman with James, Al can build one with Daddy and I’m going to build one with Tebby,” Lily announced.

“Come on Lily-Lu, it’s on!” Teddy grabbed her hand and ran with her to the other side of the garden where an untouched pile of snow sat. “I have the best idea, listen to this.” He whispered into her ear and she looked gleeful.

“I want to go with Teddy,” Albus sulked and Harry folded his arms.

“You mean, you don’t want to hear about my competition-winning snowman design idea, Al?”

Albus brightened up and turned to his dad. “What design idea?”

Harry cast Ginny and James a furtive look. “I can’t tell you here, come and see.” He took Albus’ hand and lead him to the corner opposite Teddy and Lily, who made a big show of turning their backs secretly.

“We’re not letting anyone else win are we, Mum.” James stated defiantly.

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

An hour later, three snowmen stood in the Potters’ garden and everybody was freezing, despite the warming charms Harry had cast on his children’s coats.

Teddy and Lily’s was the most decorated out of the three, wearing not only a conjured hat and scarf but also a waistcoat and bow tie, which Lily had decorated liberally with glitter Teddy summoned for her. Its smile was made out of frosty snail shells Lily had found under a watering can.

Ginny and James’ snowman was the biggest, and probably would have survived a snowstorm it was so sturdy. James had insisted on using his wand (to remind his siblings that he had a wand and they didn’t) as the nose and it stuck out comically, too long for the snowman’s face.

Harry and Al’s snowman was the tallest but it also looked in danger of falling over at any point, and was held up entirely by magic which Harry kept topping up worriedly. It was wearing a conjured top hat, had a traditional carrot nose and looked a bit like a muggle magician.

“How do we decide who won?” James asked, his teeth chattering.

“Let’s discuss that inside where it’s warm,” Ginny said with concern.

Once the children were all bundled up in front of the fire with hot chocolates, the question of picking the winning snowman came up again.

“I think me and Tebby should win ‘cause ours had the most glitter,” Lily explained very seriously.

James and Albus protested instantly.

“It’s not about who has the most glitter!”

“Glitter looks rubbish on a snowman!”

“Glitter does not look rubbish,” Teddy pretended to be cross with James for Lily’s benefit and she nodded fiercely beside him.

“Well me and Dad’s was the tallest, so we should win,” Albus replied, ignoring Teddy’s response about the glitter.

“No! Ours was nearly as tall anyway!” James complained.

Harry, Ginny and Teddy exchanged glances, all silently regretting turning this into a competition.

“Can’t we all be winners? I had so much fun, I feel like a winner,” Harry said in a jaunty tone.

All three of his children looked at him like he’d just announced he wanted to become a professional opera singer.

“Didn’t think that would work…” Harry tailed off.

“We need someone who didn’t take part to choose a winner,” Ginny said, causing Albus to look around the room as if there might be someone else there he hadn’t known about.

As he looked at the fireplace, the flames turned green and Ron’s head appeared in the flames.

“Uncle Ron!” Lily exclaimed.

“Oh, hello all of the Potters,” Ron was taken aback by the reception. “Harry, do you have a minute?”

“Absolutely, come through.”

As soon as Ron’s head disappeared again while he prepared to Floo in, Harry turned to his family. “We’ll ask Ron to pick a winner. Don’t worry Albus, he’ll definitely pick his best friend.”

Albus beamed at this news and James opened his mouth to protest again but she was drowned out by Lily, who scoffed loudly. “Please. Everyone knows I’m Uncle Ron’s favourite Potter! He’ll definitely pick me.”

“Maybe, to make things fairer, we shouldn’t tell him who built each snowman?” Ginny reasoned, sensing another argument.

Lily went to speak but stopped herself. James and Albus were silent too. “That seems fair,” she said, after a pause.

Ron spun into the room and dusted himself off, accepting Lily’s rather violent hug and picking her up into the air. “How’s my favourite Potter girl?”

“Feeling like I really like glit-”

“That’s cheating, Lily!” Albus interrupted her.

Ron looked between them bewildered, then over to Ginny.

“Ronald, dearest brother of mine, we were wondering if you would do us a quick favour while you’re here and judge our impromptu snowman competition.”

Ron blinked round at the six expectant faces. “I have to judge who’s built the best snowman out of you lot?”

“We were in teams,” James explained. “Me and Mum, Albus and Dad, Lily and Teddy.”

“Three snowmen, but we aren’t going to say who made which one.” Ginny added.

“Okay, I can do that.” Ron shrugged and allowed the children to lead him away into the garden where the three odd snowmen stood proudly. Harry quickly shot another strengthening charm at their snowman and Teddy definitely enlarged the bow tie on theirs.

“These are mad, you know that right?” Ron grinned at the Potters who shared proud looks. “But if I had to pick the maddest out of the lot, then it has to be this glittery one. That’s yours I’m guessing James?”

James missed the joke, scowled heavily and grumbled “no, I hate glitter,” stamping his foot into the snow.

“Then again, if we’re talking about the best building of a snowman, then this one has a clear height advantage. A lot of effort has gone into the height of that.” He surveyed Harry and Albus’ snowman.

“But I also have a bit of a soft spot for snowmen with wands for noses.” He poked at James’ wand where it was firmly stuck into the compacted snow.

“So who’s the winner?” Lily said impatiently. “You sort of said all three.”

“All three are the winners,” Ron beamed and Harry groaned as the children started to complain.

“Lily, consider this a lesson in never relying on a brother too much.”

Lily saluted her mother, laughing, which was a relief as she was easily the most competitive out of the three Potter children.

They trudged back inside, leaving the three winning snowmen stood proudly in the garden.

Harry spoke when they were back by the fireplace. “Now that’s sorted, what did you need, Ron?”

Ron grinned. “I feel a bit silly asking now, but you couldn’t come and be an impartial judge for the First Annual Granger-Weasley Gingerbread House competition could you?”

[storytaeme]

merry xmas, i love you – taegi

Yoongi had always known that Santa Claus wasn’t real, but the appearance of a figure in his window might just change his mind.

taegi week 2017 – taehyung x yoongi

❅ Prompt: Santa ft. Ugly Christmas Sweater

❅ Elements: Fluff  |  Neighbors AU

❅ Word Count: 3,127 words

❅ A/N: Much shorter than my other ones! I’m going to start decreasing length to keep up sobs. But here’s a cute lil fluffy confession!

Out of all the things Yoongi expected to greet him just days before Christmas, a very, very drunk neighbor was the last on his list.

All his life, Yoongi had grown up with the belief that Santa Claus most certainly was not real. It wasn’t easy listening to his classmates’ ridiculous rambling that Santa would squeeze into a chimney and leave presents underneath their obnoxiously decorated trees. Koreans barely had any chimneys, how did they expect Santa to drop off their gifts anyway?

From an early age, he had learned the easy way that Christmas was a commercialized holiday. His parents never beat around the bush, asked him what he wanted a month before the D-day so they could search for it in advance. Yoongi and his brother had no qualms about it—after all, why would they? They got everything they wanted without the shitty make-believe stuff.

However, this cynicism was the reason why all the hairs on his arms and legs rose when he heard the tapping against his window. He lived on the second floor. He had a balcony. There was knocking against his window. A chanced glance at his bedside clock showed that it was three in the morning. Fuck. If Santa didn’t exist (plus it wasn’t even Christmas Eve), then it must be a burglar.

Yoongi quickly reached for his baseball bat that he kept handy by his bed and tiptoed over to the  window. The rattling was getting louder and he hoped that his parents would notice so he didn’t have to put up this fight alone. His heart was beating too loud in his chest, practically threatening to spill out of his body. Pressing his body up against the wall, he held his breath as he flicked the curtain open just enough to glimpse into the outside.

What he saw had a scream bubbling up his throat as he leapt back. “Holy fuckin’ shit,” he snapped, whipping the curtains back to glare at the intruder.

There he was—the man of the hour. Or what Yoongi expected to be at least. But it really was just his rambunctious next-door-neighbor dressed at St. Nick. He had his face pressed up against the window, cheek flattened against the frosty surface. Yoongi wasn’t sure if he was voluntarily doing it or whether he was stuck due to the cold.

“What the fuck, Taehyung?” Yoongi muttered, unlatching his window and pulling it up carefully as to not hurt the boy.

“Hyungie!” was the first word out of his mouth as he launched himself through the open window and into Yoongi’s arms. The elder fell back with an oof, ass landing on the carpeted floor. With his wearing nothing more than a thin set of pajamas, the cold from the outside had him shivering to his very bones.

After wrangling Taehyung off of him and leave him clinging around his legs, Yoongi moved back to the window to slam it shut. The room was only getting colder and colder with the breeze that diffused into the room. When he turned around, Taehyung was wrestling with his coat, too intoxicated to properly slip his arms out of the fabric. The sight would be hilarious if Yoongi wasn’t too tired at the ass crack of dawn. Taehyung ended up flopping forward, face diving into the carpet as he let out an exhausted, pained moan.

“What are you even doing here?” Yoongi grumbled, finally making the move to lend a hand. He could barely managed to hold the boy up before Taehyung was taking him down to the ground with him. It ended up being Yoongi smothered by the younger’s arms as he pinned him down on the floor and against the side of his bed. “Christ, Tae,” Yoongi grunted, “it’s three fucking am. What the fuck are you doing?”

“N-needed—” hiccup “—to—fuck, shit—tell you something.”

Yoongi sighed, rolling his eyes and taking a breath. Taehyung had always been a peculiar child and an even more peculiar neighbor slash friend. Ever since they were kids, ever since Taehyung was born, he had always stuck by Yoongi’s side. They went to the same school, grew up with similar friends, and were generally attached at the hip. For a little while, in the beginning, Yoongi had thought that the guy was strange, too curious, too wide-eyed. But over the years, Yoongi became the one that protected him from such comments, mindless ridicule that he didn’t deserve.

If he were to compare Taehyung to something, it might be a puppy. He wasn’t innocent—no, not judging from a handful of questions he had raised before. But he was cute, yeah, cute. Cute in a way that had all the girls cooing and feeding him spoonfuls it ice cream, cute in a way that had guys defending him against foul misbehaving from jealous others. Cute in a way that made Yoongi oddly attached to him.

It wasn’t as if Taehyung was particularly difficult to handle. In fact, he was so laid-back and easygoing, so carefree that Yoongi worried for him plenty. Thus, when Taehyung was upset, he wasn’t quite sure how to even begin to tackle the issue.

Yoongi, being the smart guy that he was, pet him. He pet him. Pet him like he would a dog. As expected, Taehyung preened at the gesture. He nudged his head closer towards Yoongi, knee bouncing as a tail-wagging equivalent. They remained that way for a little while. Yoongi burying his fingers in Taehyung’s hair to stroke his head and calm him down, Taehyung with his sobs ebbing away and a pleased, content look falling upon his expression.

“You wanna tell me why you came knocking on my window at this hour?” Yoongi murmured, his voice without any malicious intent. He never could stay irritated at Taehyung for too long.

Taehyung, whose face was still flushed red from tears and the nip of the cold outside, ignored him and continued to keel into the touch. His knee bounced restlessly as Yoongi continued to humor his indulgence in Yoongi’s hand. Only once the elder felt his arm growing sore did he finally tip Taehyung’s chin up with his fingers so he could meet his eyes.

The younger let out a small whimper and his parted lips let out a whiff of something akin to whiskey. Christ, how much did he drink? “Tae, you okay, buddy?”

“Not buddy,” he huffed, jutting out his bottom lip in a childish protest. “I am Kim Taehyung. Tae-hyung. Say it with me.”

“Tae, p—”

“No, no,” he drowsily interrupted, clamping his hands against Yoongi’s lips to shut him up. The elder had a lot of patience when it came to Taehyung, but even this was testing his limits. He took a deep breath and waited as the other boy tried to recall what he was trying to say. “My name—” hiccup “—is Taehyung. Taehyung.”

Yoongi sighed, “Taehyung.”

His reaction was what took Yoongi aback. His pupils blew up, his eyes opening slightly wider, and his lips parting. A strange look passed over his gaze, one Yoongi couldn’t quite name. Not in that state at least. It was a strange response considering he really didn’t know what the fuck was going on at the time.

There he was, expecting a quiet night in when he could finally get some sleep in after spending hours at the studio. Yet, his peaceful slumber was so rudely interjected by this boy decked out in what might be considered the most festive things he had. A red, knitted sweater with what he guessed was a drunk Santa holding up a glass of beer and smirking, the letters “Ho-ho-hoes!” printed on it. It wasn’t quite age-appropriate. If Taehyung were underage. He had a pair of very, very tight maroon pants on too, clashing grossly with the looseness of his sweater. His usual neon pink beanie had been replaced by a Santa head pulled down low on his head over his bangs.

If there was a bigger cynic towards a capitalistic Christmas than Yoongi, it would be Taehyung.

“Taehyung, do you just want to sleep?” Yoongi pressed again, gesturing his hand to his empty bed.

He shook his head furiously, brows puckering between his eyes and lips pinching. Taehyung always had this look whenever he was thinking too hard, working his brain into overdrive. It kind of scared the elder to see him so frustrated with himself. “Okay, listen, I have something to tell you.”

“Uh, okay? Can it wait until a decent hour?”

Taehyung inhaled deeply again and pressed his lips together, “This is serious talk, Yoongi. Like real serious. Think of eighth grade math quiz with Teacher Han serious.”

Yoongi had no fucking clue what that meant but nodded anyway.

“So you know we’ve been neighbors for a bajillion years.” Bajillion was a clear overstatement. “And like, you’re super cool. Damn, you work in a studio and is super professional and talented. Oh my God, thinking about you in the studio—” he widened his eyes for dramatic effect “—nut material, man. Nut.”

“Dude,” Yoongi crinkled his nose, “get to the point.”

“Wait, I’m working on my introduction part.” Taehyung waved him off, chest rising in a brief hiccup again. He smacked his lips together as if he could retaste the alcohol on his tongue. “Okay, okay. Anyway, where was I? Studio, professional, nut. Yeah, so um, you’re like major cool. And that’s amazing? And I keep thinking you know—why don’t you have a boyfriend or girlfriend yet? Or any lover at all? You’re such a goddamn catch, Yoongi, the fuck.”

A breathless laugh slipped past his lips as he nodded. “Okay, thank you, Tae. I appreciate the flattery.”

Taehyung’s hands flew up to clamp Yoongi’s cheeks together, pushing his face to scrunch up. His gaze had a shiver snaking down the elder’s spine, the sheer intensity of it had his knees weakening. “No, this isn’t just flattery. I mean it. You’re a fuckin’ catch, Yoongs. Like fuck me—wait, no, not literally fuck me, not yet—shit, I’m getting the order mixed up.” He whined with a little shoulder shimmy as he squished Yoongi’s face harder. “Why are you so distracting?”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut,” Yoongi squeezed out past the involuntary curl of his lips.

“So yeah, I keep thinking to myself you know. You’re so sweet, you’re always taking care of me even though I’m a big ol’ shit who keeps getting on your nerves. And it’s not like I don’t hear people talk about us.”

Yoongi frowned, “Tae—”

“You said no interrupting,” Taehyung pressed his index finger against his lips and squinted. “I hear it all, Yoongi. You can’t just shield me from it. I’m not a baby. I’m your baby, but I’m not a baby.”

The elder snorted again, “Alright, baby.”

Taehyung tinged pink again, cheeks coloring a shade darker as his lips stuck out in another pout. “Basically, I’m just really thankful to have you around. I really appreciate it, you have no idea.”

“Tae,” Yoongi sighed, stroking his head again and Taehyung curled into him. “You don’t need to thank me, okay? We’re good right? That’s what friends do.”

“Yeah, friends,” he pursed his lips, “but the thing is, I just—” deep breath “—I’m really happy I have you with me, Yoongi. I’m glad you stuck around. Through everything, you are still the one person I can always count on.”

Yoongi wasn’t sure why Taehyung was getting all sentimental when he was drunk at three in the morning, but it made his heart throb in his chest. It was a painful thumping as his heartbeat picked up as his eyes carefully watched every twitch of Taehyung’s face as his expression crumpled again into one of sorrow and happiness at the same time.

“And what I’m trying to get at is that, you know, I just—I really think you’re great, you know,” he paused to chuckle stiffly, “you’re incredible. You’re sweet, and like you can be the super bad sexy cop or this sweet, gentle, and good cop.” Taehyung began stumbling over his words, tripping over the syllables as he tried to wrap his lips around them. Yoongi was having a difficult time trying to decipher parts of what he was saying, mainly because half of the phrases sounded as if they were formed from made-up words.

“Taehyung.”

That seemed to do the trick again. Taehyung deflated and calmed down, his shoulders slumping and breath knocking out of his chest. “Right, I’m good. Just kind of—lost my head and lungs for a second there. And words, can’t phrase, how talk wow.” Cue another nervous chuckle. “This was better when I had more whiskey inside of me, you wouldn’t happen to have like a whole bottle of vodka, do you?”

Yoongi chuckled, ruffling his hair, “What’s up with you? You usually won’t let anything stop you from talking and now you need alcohol?”

“This is different,” he cried out, but leaning his forehead against Yoongi’s shoulder. “My insides are shaking, my heart feels like it’s going to throw up, and my veins are gonna burst and there’s going to be blood all over the place.”

“Sounds pretty gross,” the elder muttered.

“I don’t want you to hate me.”

There was a vulnerable quake to his voice, a tremble in the strength of his tone that seemed too out of place for the Taehyung he knew. Yoongi’s heart ached at the sight and he wished he could just kiss all the pain—

Wait, kiss?

He needed to get it together. He had vowed a long time ago that he wouldn’t let himself take advantage of Taehyung’s admiration towards him. It was obvious that the younger had immense respect for his neighbor, but the last thing he wanted was to make a move based on Taehyung’s fanboy tendencies.

“Did you hear me? Yoongi?”

Taehyung’s deep voice and the squeeze around his arm drew him out of his thoughts. “I could never hate you,” he responded the truth quietly, an answer that came late.

“I know, that’s because you’re you and you’re amazing.” There was a faint dusting of coral on the tan of his cheeks. Taehyung looked away and, once again, pouted (Yoongi still wanted to kiss that away). “But I li—I mean, I just—never mind,” he grunted.

“No, sorry, I missed that. What did you say?”

Mumble, mumble.

“What?”

More mumbling.

“Taehyung, I can’t hear you.”

“Said I like you!” he exploded, and almost immediately burying his face in his hands.

There was a stillness in the air in which the two sat close to each other, knees touching, fingers brushing. Neither could bring the will to move in the fear of breaking that fragile equilibrium in the atmosphere. Taehyung wouldn’t look up, Yoongi was still 67% through processing what the fuck Taehyung just said.

“What?”

Taehyung moaned, looking up with such agony dancing in his irises. “Really? You’re going to make me say it again?”

“I’m just um—”

He exasperatedly smacked his hand over Yoongi’s mouth again. “I like you. Like like you. Like a stupid crush.”

“Stupid?” he said, voice muffled.

“It’s stupid,” Taehyung insisted and Yoongi quirked an eyebrow. “I know, you don’t have to say anything. ‘M just really drunk and I really needed to tell you otherwise I’m going to regret it and I really, really don’t want things to be awkward, you know.”

Yoongi pried his fingers off and intertwined them in between his. “Taehyung,” he said again. His name was beginning to sound like a prayer, a hopeful sweetener to calm him again.

“Let me down easy, please. Don’t rip off the bandaid, just peel it nice and slow—actually, no, I take it back. Reject me now—”

“Taehyung.”

He hiccuped.

Yoongi wanted to kiss him.

He did—on the cheek. Taehyung’s eyes brightened in surprise.

“I’m—I never knew and I’m honestly surprised,” Yoongi cleared his throat, feeling heat licking up his cheeks. “I didn’t expect this, especially not at this fuckin’ hour.”

“M’sorry.”

Yoongi smiled softly, “It’s fine. But I—I don’t know how to answer you right now and I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear.”

He sniffled, sucking in a breath, “No, I’m fine. I’m okay with it.”

“But,” he quickly added, “I think you’re just as cool and, if—if you’re willing to wait a little, I want to give this a try. I think—I never really believed in a lot of things before but you always have a way of seeing the world that makes me love it a little more. So, if you want, I want to try to show you that difference too and maybe—maybe make you love the world more too.”

There was a momentary pause before Taehyung once again erupted into tears. There was snot in his nose, his lungs were choking up, his breath catching in his throat, and waterfalls from his eyes. He was an entire mess as he pulled Yoongi in and thanked him over and over, promising to be the greatest almost-boyfriend he could ever dream of.

“Alright, alright,” Yoongi smiled, slowly accepting the fluttering in his stomach. “Stop crying, let’s get some sleep yeah? Let’s sleep that hangover off.”

“M’love you too.”

Yoongi choked, “Okay, buddy, that’s too many things in a night.”

“C-can we start wearing matching sweaters?”

“Yes, baby, okay.”

Taehyung giggled, wiping away his tears with the collar of his sweater. “Call me that again.”

“What?”

“Call me baby.”

Yoongi’s lips twitched. “Okay, baby.”

BONUS:

“What in the fuckin—”

Yoongi snapped a glare his way, “Don’t start. I don’t need your comments.”

Namjoon lifted up his phone and clicked a picture. “I’m going to make this this year’s Christmas card for the gang.”

“Fuck you,” Yoongi growled.

“Yoongi!” Taehyung squealed, tossing his arms around the elder. His frown melted away almost instantly as he wrapped his own arm around Taehyung’s waist, around the thick wool of his red, handmade sweater. Very handmade sweater. “You’re wearing it.”

Yoongi sighed, “Yes, I promised.”

“You don’t like it?”

Oh God. Not again. “N-no, baby, I love it.”

Taehyung lit up again before turning to Namjoon, “Hyung, what do you think?”

“Cute, I’m so jealous,” Namjoon grinned with a twinkle in his eye. Yoongi directed another withering look his way.

“Really? See, Yoongi! Told you I could make a career out of this.”

“Baby,” Yoongi started, “let me tell you remind you again that knitting a dick and an asshole on two sweaters does not make it a good idea for matching outfits.”

[thecauldroncake]

Only Hope (A Bucky Barnes One Shot)

Fandom: Marvel’s The Avengers

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning/s: Mentions of death; kinda angsty?

Word Count: 2,566

A/N: Hi! So this is my first ever posted Bucky Barnes one shot! Hope ya’ll like it!

  Against the one-way looking glass holding you from the outside world are your frequent visitors.

 Spearheaded by the in-charge on your recovery are obviously Tony, Banner and Vision, with them are the whole gang, who came to see you for the first time in three years, including your boyfriend Bucky.

 The moment the team dispatched in Siberia received the news about Tony finally having the solution to your problem, they immediately halted the operations. With Bucky on the team, they know he needs to be back ASAP and for the rest to see you again & give whatever support Bucky needs for this whole ordeal.

 “Buck,” Steve croaked from the back. “just go to her.” He barely managed to whisper.

 “What if she-- I can’t, Steve.” Bucky look back from Steve to you, watching you singing your favorite song.

 “Her brain activity is getting better.” Bruce commented as he fiddles on the hologram diagnosis he has in front of him before looking directly to Bucky. “A push might be needed, Barnes. If we want her to remember us and recover faster.”

 “I know what you’re thinking, Sergeant. But what about her?” Vision reasoned as he floated towards the glass wall and looks at you. “She’s dying to know who she really is.”

 Bucky looked at the rest of the group before landing his eyes on Tony’s. Tony, of all people, is the one helping the two of you, despite their differences and past. “May I?” Bucky pleaded.

 “She needs you more than ever, Frosty.” Tony nodded his head towards the door that’ll give him access to your holding room.

Upon the sound of the creaking door, the man whom beholds it is a new sight; or is he? There’s a sense of familiarity that you can’t deny but the specifics are something you can’t decipher just yet.

“Hi.” You started. His eyes are bright blue that digs deep into your soul. You can see him getting anxious and doubtful about his actions. “If you’re a friend of the three musketeers, I’m sorry to say that I’m gonna blindly trust you.” You smiled at him.

 Bucky can feel the butterflies in his stomach awaken, something that haven’t happened for the past three years. He opted for a gentle tight-lipped smile, not wanting to scare you, especially not when you don’t have any idea who he actually is. “Three musketeers?” He gently snickered at your remarks.

 “The soft speaking doctor, the guy with facial hair and just can’t stop talking for some reasons--”

 “What the?” Bucky heard Tony whine while the other laugh from the other side.

 “and the red... guy.” Your brows furrowed in frustration thinking about whatever the hell do you actually call Vision. “But they’re all nice and they’re practically all I know for now.” You stood up from your bed and walk towards him. It was until you’re mere inches from him, when his scent started to cloud your consciousness and his body heat began radiating towards you that you stop. It’s all too familiar and your body starts to crave for more meanwhile your mind is still blank.

 “I’m Y/N. I know you know it. And you are?” You hold out your hand.

 “James Buchanan Barnes.” He lightly shook your hand, the interaction jolted electricity in the entirety of Bucky and he can’t help but flash a beam of smile. “You can call me Bucky.” Your real first meeting is a total opposite of this.

  You see Tony as an older brother figure and have stood alongside him despite knowing about his crazy antics and the fact that most of the time it gets onto you. When Cap and his team gets to settle their differences with Tony’s, mini-chaos ensues as some still has reservations regarding the reassembly of the team, including you and Bucky. Nonetheless, the team can’t care to deny that this mini-fights you and Bucky had has something more than hate. If anything, it was the exact opposite of hate and they all saw right through it.

 Fast forward to the time when hate turns to love. You and Bucky had your ups and downs. Him being overprotective with you, with all due reasons; and you being reckless and stubborn, all in the name of doing your job perfectly as an Avenger. Due to these reasons, things get more heated and the team knows they can’t meddle into it. Nonetheless, you both made it together. But as they say, the worst is yet to come.

 You were held hostage by Hydra when the mission went terribly wrong, thanks to the Hydra-planted intel that reached the team. With you in their hands, yo know you won’t last a day idle as Hydra is infamous into making use of all the opportunity they have to turn the tables over, and having a mutant Avenger is an absolute prize.

 They hurry on concocting the supersoldier serum you knew they used on Bucky, wanting you to enhance your performance more than you can imagine and deliver Hydra more successes as soon as possible. They were as excited as those teenagers’ during their first prom night, thinking very highly of themselves, they injected the serum into you in no time.

 All for it to be wasted.

 To put it into simple English, it failed terribly. You’re dying and Hydra can’t afford to waste their resources on you again. They dumped you like a pig for slaughter in the cold Siberian forest to die and made sure to abandon the said laboratory knowing that the Avengers are going to comb the whole area for you. Thank God Hydra was right.

 You can still remember the horror in their faces, especially Bucky's, when they saw you just few kilometers from the Hydra base. You’re as pale as ice and your skin is getting frost bites. The team immediately called for the headquarter to prepare for medical emergency situation and let Banner lead it from the quinjet down to the operating room back in New York.

 Banner, Stark and the rest of the medical team of the Avengers did all they can do to nurse you to health as the others waited outside chanting prayers of mercy for your life to be saved, only to be devastatingly blasted by the laboratory results when it was delivered.

 “The serum Hydra gave her is eating up her entirety and therefore is killing her rapidly, instead of making her stronger. It makes her weaker until she’s just an empty shell.”

 Everyone looked at Bucky.

 Bucky never cared for anyone this intense other than Steve. He thought he would never love and care for anyone as much as he did for his family and Steve, his best friend for ninety years and yet here you are, breaking his strong facade.

 He put his face in his both palm as his elbows rest on the table in front of him. At first all they can hear are deep breathes, then they became faint sobs, until it become an all-out cry for mercy. Everyone was crying by that moment; Vision swore he also did.

 Was he being punished? Are your sufferings his supposed punishments for all the innocent blood he shed under the guise and mind of the infamous Winter Soldier? If it is, he can’t forgive himself, Bucky thought.

 “Buck--” Steve ran for Bucky as the latter sped out of the room and follows him until he reaches your bedroom door.

 You and Bucky preferred to stay at his bedroom together, but you insisted on keeping your room as it is. You love having a space for yourself as you grew up living on the streets after your relatives cursed your mere existence to death and insists you’re a freak. Bucky respected this decision of yours but once in a while he’ll innocently insists you to just settle on his place, like married couple does, as he always says.

 But now at least he sees its purpose. The room shouts the entirety of you. Not you as his girlfriend or as an Avenger, but you being you. Your favorite books, CDs and board games are neatly placed in the rack. Some memorabilia of your parents in heaven, every little detail there is to see screams of you. All Bucky can think of doing is to sit on the edge of your bed, letting his flesh arm feel the softness of your bed.

 “Buck, there must be a way.” Steve walked silently towards his broken friend. He had always regarded him as broken after he knew about his past with Hydra, but this is a new and worse blow than that. It’s like losing everything all over again just right after you’ve settled down and expected it to last longer.

 “Is there?” Bucky asked, his voice voids all hope.

 “There must be.” The two supersoldiers looked up, it was Tony. “We’ll try our best, Barnes. She’s like a lil sis to me.” Tony looked down, trying to hide the fact that he’s actually thinking about how to say the things in his mind, as he usually don’t do that. “But you’ll need to give us more time.” He quietly added.

 Bucky mockingly chuckled.

 “Time?! Time!” Bucky stood up from the bed and pace in the space between Tony and the bed. “She’s dying! I don’t know how much science-y time do we have but if she’s dying--” He paused, feeling the gravity of the situation rise from his throat as he continues what he was about to say. “rapidly, what kind of time do we have?!” He frustratingly hissed against the billionaire.

 “The cryo will do.” Tony’s eyes stares with conviction against Bucky’s orbs. “I’m not asking your permission, she’s important to me as she is to you and I want to save her.” Tony turned his back and was about to leave when Bucky called him out.

 “I trust you, Tony.” He sighed. “You, Banner, the others... I’m sorry about how I reacted.” Tony looked back at Bucky, waiting for him to finish his mini-speech. “Please save her.”

 “You know we’ll do our best.” With that, Tony left.

 The rigorous journey to finding a cure for you turns days into weeks into months and years. Now, they can all hear your lively voice. Your eyes are full of life. Your hands started to display your powers back: controlling water. This is you, but not the entirety of it.

  Day after day Bucky visits you and the ambiance becomes better every single time. You get to know things about him and you as well. He supplies you with things you used to love and adore. He even gets permission from whoever is in-charge of you to go out, and by go out that is going to parks and malls. You also get to learn how great of a cuddler the man is. Days with Bucky were never dull.

 But it was never peaceful either.

 Once in a while you'll get flashbacks. At first you were excited, but whenever you see Bucky's reaction to you zoning out, his brows were furrowed and you can't help but think of him being disappointed, or worse, mad. You kept all the flashbacks to yourself. It was tolerable to begin with, but now you're getting ordeals with it.

 You woke up with beads of sweat forming from your forehead and drenching your tshirt. You held your left chest trying to calm your furiously beating heart before asking FRIDAY to open the dim lights and reach for the water by the nightstand.

 Luckily to you, everyone decided to leave open your holding room. The team thought that by giving you that much trust you will also trust them as much, which they weren't wrong.

 You quietly walked towards the elevator and pressed the up button. Upon entering, you pushed the button with a gleaming number 5 on it and let it deliver you to your destination.

 Your body moved by itself and find yourself in front of a door beside Bucky's room. You rest your hand on it, trying to familiarize it, before pushing it open.

 The first thing you saw is the piano. Tony gave it to you as a gift for your first mission. Like Peter, he spoils you like a sister-that-he-never-had.

 You pressed the piano keys softly with the pads of your fingers and your mind directs it to orchestrate the melody of your favorite song: Only Hope.

  There's a song that's inside of my soul

It's the one that I've tried to write over and over again

I'm awake in the infinite cold

But you sing to me over and over and over again

 You were so engrossed you haven't noticed the figure standing by your doorstep. He never imagined seeing you there but nonetheless a ghost of his smile rests on his lips unfaltering.

 So I lay my head back down

And I lift my hands

and pray to be only yours

I pray to be only yours

I know now you're my only hope

 Things are running into circle but you focused on the melody you want to play the piano with.

 Sing to me the song of the stars

Of your galaxy dancing and laughing

and laughing again

When it feels like my dreams are so far

Sing to me of the plans that you have for me over again

 He badly wants to hold you but the sight in front of him is too much to behold. It was nothing but precious.

 So I lay my head back down

And I lift my hands and pray

To be only yours

I pray to be only yours

I know now you're my only hope

 Flashback mists your vision but you fought yourself by focusing on playing the keyboard. You continued but your voice is starting to break with sobs.

 I give you my destiny

I'm giving you all of me

I want your symphony

Singing in all that I am

At the top of my lungs I'm giving it back

 You can't continue singing but you didn't let go of the melody, but someone carries over.

 So I lay my head back down

And I lift my hands and pray

 It was Bucky.

You had a sad smile against the tears rushing to your cheeks.

 To be only yours, I pray

 "Am I still your doll, Sergeant?" You asked him as if it was the worst thing ever. Your head hangs low and your blurry eyes can only make the color of the keyboard in front of you.

 To be only yours, I pray

 He looked at you while he sings, sending you the message of the song.

 To be only yours I know now you're my only hope.

 You finished the song and you shifted looking towards him. You can see him fidgeting as his flesh hand pulls something from the pocket of his sweatpants.

 "To be only yours, I pray, doll." He bended his one knee and opened the red velvet ring box harboring a diamond ring.

 "You're my only love, Buck."

 "And you'll always be my doll, my love." He kissed the crown of your head, the tip of your nose, before putting the ring on your left ring finger and pulling you into a kiss. A kiss which was his only hope to feel alive again.