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vaire-gwir · 4 years ago

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I find you all Unwoven

I was sad, and then I decided to make myself even sadder writing this...yay me?

Geralt is outside Oxenfurt for a contract, something attracts his attention. Meeting Jaskier for the first time after the mountain scene doesn’t go as he expected.

English is not my first language, I wrote it in a rush so it probably sucks a bit more than usual, let me know what you think!

***

There was music coming from inside the tavern, it was not Jaskier's voice hitting the notes but the lyrics were his, Geralt recognized them. It was a weird experience, more so because he knew Jaskier was here. He recognized the unique mix of flowers, lavender and honey that made up the bard's scent, he'd never get that wrong, it was hard to forget. So Jaskier was here, and so was the music, how strange he was not playing it.

If he were asked why, Geralt couldn't explain why he decided to enter. Last time he saw the bard was almost a year ago, and too much time passed to try and mend something he broke. And yet, he couldn't resist. The moment he caught that flowery scent he knew he had to see him, even from afar, even just for a second or two. It's been so long since the last time he saw him.

It took Geralt no longer than a minute to find Jaskier in the crowded inn, but something was off. Everything was off, to be honest. The black trousers and grey shirt were a weird sight on the bard. No colours or frilly shirts, no silk pants or lace doublets. He was sitting by himself, eyes lost in his mug, it almost seemed like he was trying to appear smaller, inconspicuous, invisible.

He was not singing or playing, he was not talking with anyone, he wasn't trying to strike a conversation or catch anyone's eyes, he was there but he wasn't really there. That was not his bard. Something must have happened to him. That was not the man he used to know. 'You. You happened to him.' A cruel voice inside Geralt's head quickly supplied. Also, not his anymore.

Jaskier was like the middle of spring, when all the flowers start to bloom, the air is warm and filled with their scents, the nights are lighter and everything seemed a bit easier to bear. Now his eyes showed the end of autumn, when all the leaves fall from the dead trees, the nights are endless and even the days grow darker. There were no more flowers or light or sweet scents, there was nothing left. It physically hurts somewhere deep inside him to see Jaskier like that, it was painful for reasons he didn't know how to put into words.

Geralt was familiar with guilt, he knew its smell and ache, he knew how to bear it, but this was hitting him differently. He used to know a lively and bright person, chatty and quick, in love with life and everything in it, fierce and bubbly but whoever was sitting on that stool at the end of the bar was the very opposite of all that.

He observes from his corner at the back of the tavern, it's been months since he left Jaskier on the mountain after their stupid fight, and of all the times he wanted, needed, to see him again, this seemed almost unnatural. He's the last person the bard wants to see and yet Geralt feels compelled to call him, he's itching to say his name out loud and see the shadows dancing in the endless pool of ocean that were his blue eyes, he's craving to be close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin and hear him say his name, just once. Just once, like he always dreams about, like the dragon hunt never happened.

He spent so many days regretting the words he said on top of that cursed mountain, wishing for forgiveness, cause he could deal with Yen leaving, but losing Jaskier hurt in a different way. On the way back to where they set camp Geralt secretly hoped until the last minute to see him waiting with Roach at the edge of the woods, pouting and cursing at him, but all his things were gone.

The guy wearing Jaskier's face murmurs something to the maid, slips a few coins into her hand, and gets up. He wraps a thick cloak around his thinner frame, he has probably lost some weight, Geralt can't tell for sure. When he walks out of the tavern, he has to fight every instinct screaming at him to follow him. He sits still for a grand total of a full minute before losing that fight and rushing out, following the faint trace of lavender in the air.

Jaskier is just crossing the square when a dark shadow looms behind him. "Why did you follow me, Witcher?" He whispers softly while turning around. He slowly takes in the black-clad figure in front of him, the white messy hair, the golden eyes, the frown on his face and the fine layer of dust on his clothes. Geralt is exactly how he remembers him. Jaskier feels his betrayer heart jumping in his chest.

"How did you know...."Geralt begins to ask puzzled.

"I saw you at the tavern. I spent so long searching for your face in every crowd I started to think I was seeing things, but apparently I was right this time." Jaskier lowers his eyes and Geralt can't help but notice how tired he looks. The dark circle around his eyes threaten to swallow the sunlit blue sea with their purple hue, and he's so pale, his skin so white and washed out Geralt would almost suspect he was sick if he didn't know better.

"I... You were not singing.” He knows it's stupid to say, but he can't ask any of the other questions on the tip of his tongue.

Jaskier adjusts the cloak around himself, trying to keep the cold at bay. Geralt is yearning to trace the contours of his face, trail his fingers over his sharp cheekbones, or over his jaw, anything, he just needs a small touch, but he knows he can’t. "I don't do that anymore," Jaskier says.

"Why not?" His yellow eyes seem to widen for a moment at the implications of those words and he sees the pain flickering over the bard's beautiful features. Pain that Geralt put there himself. The ache inside of him burns fiercely. He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know where to find the right words. He’s not even sure Jaskier would listen,

"Don't act like you care. I'm not the same person I was ten months ago. Besides, you hate my singing, you can barely stand my voice, what difference does it make to you?" Jaskier sighs, he feels drained and exhausted. Geralt was the last person he expected to see today. and the last he needed to see. Too long he spent trying to sew himself back together, too many tears were shed at every dream and every memory of their time together, too many little pieces of his heart were still refusing to stay put and make him whole. It all seemed in vain now that the Witcher was in front of him.

"That's not true," Geralt mumbles under his breath, clenching his hands at his side, resisting the urge to reach out for him. There must be something he could say to make Jaskier forgive him.

"It's like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling. There's a word for that, in case you didn't know, and it's called disappointment. Now, why did you follow me out here? I don't think it was to tell me you suddenly like my voice cause we both know you don't and honestly, bit late for that, don't you think?" Geralt hears it in his voice that if Jaskier had enough strength left in him to be mad, he'd be furious. He briefly wonders how long he stayed angry before he gave up.

"I just thought...we could maybe....talk?" Jaskier’s laugh is bitter and hollow, empty as his eyes.

"Really Geralt? That's rich coming from you. Now you want to talk? You know what, no. No, you don't get to come here and tell me you want to talk after I spent ten gods forsaken months trying to forget you. Don't you fucking dare. Not like this. Now if there's something I can help you with, do say so. If not, spare us both this conversation, I'm not sure I’m in the mood to have my heart broken again."

Geralt knows he's right, but it still hurts to hear it from his voice. It takes him a moment for the words to sink in, it’s like his mind refuses the real meaning of them. He steels himself before saying "I'll leave you to your things then. Goodbye, Jaskier." And it’s harder than slaying any monster he ever encountered. For some messed up reasons, he thought Jaskier would be willing to talk to him, to give him a second chance he knows he hasn’t earned. It’s only fair that he doesn’t.

"You were right." Geralt freezes in his spot when blue eyes search for his own golden ones. "You spent so much time trying to convince me to leave you alone and stop following you around and I never fucking listened. I realized you were right. Cause you, you got what you wanted, life, destiny, whatever, you had your sorceress and I'm finally off your hands, But what about me? That is why I wish...I wish I would have listened to you. Left. Before it was too late. Before having my heart broken."

Geralt doesn't miss how his voice breaks, he can taste the salt in the air from his unshed tears and he can't help but wonder how many times this precious human he loved cried because of him. Loves. He still loves him, even if he never knew how to show it. He stares at the black cloak trailing tiredly behind his companion, his best friend, his lover, and he knows he deserves the pain he feels for what he did to him. He whispers his poor apology to the wind, but nobody answers. He really wishes Witchers couldn't feel emotions.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fandom #fanfiction #post-mountain break up #sad jaskier #just pain I guess #idiots in love #geraskier fanfiction #geraskier fic

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remingt0nleith · 5 years ago

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thorns | remington leith

try & find the hidden palaye royale song title in the fic! & additional A/N at the end.

A/N: hi wow long time no write :( SORRY! I have ideas and I try to write then my brain just doesn’t want to put the ideas on the word document. + y’know having depression doesn’t help things bleh... BUT I did write a full something finally (yay bare minimum author things!) This was requested! gonna keep trying to turn out requests & work on dark cherries also my birthday is on thursday and i’m turning 24 (wow im getting old help) & also the bastards comes out the day after so yay! lets chat about it when its out ok?

Request: Where Remington cheats on the reader and she finds out, but he does everything he can to get her back?

Thorns - A Remington Leith one-shot. || 1.9K words || under cut.

The catalyst for a ruined night came in a round of shots. Emerson poured the amber liquid into hot pink shot glasses that the boys had picked up days prior. Remington wasted no time in downing his, barely flinching at the bitter taste that now coated his tongue.

“Slow down there, cowboy”

Sebastian laughed before throwing his own shot back, placing a hand on Remington’s cheetah print covered shoulder.

“We can’t have our lead singer fucked up out of his mind, can we?”

The eldest brother chided playfully as he took the bottle from Emerson and poured more shots.

As the brothers drank and talked anxiously about their first show of a new tour, Remington’s phone buzzed in his back pocket, taking it out he suppressed an eye-roll at the message filling his screen;

My Love <3: HEY BABY JUST WANT TO WISH U LUCK TONIGHT YOU’LL KILL IT. LOVE U.

He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him lately, usually, he’d be thrilled at the love and adoration his girlfriend of three years was showing him. She was always cheering him on, listening to his music, and supporting his band in every way she could. Although she was unable to come to most shows due to a fast-paced work schedule she always made a point to let the band of brothers know they had her support. That should’ve been enough to keep Remington happy but recently he had become cold towards his girlfriend and as he put his phone away without responding all thoughts of her disappeared as well.

Remington headed backstage after the show still high from the performance. The adrenaline from the encouraging crowd and kick-ass concert his band delivered had Remington feeling happier than he had in months. Once in the dressing room, the boys quickly changed out of their sweaty stage attire into more relaxed outfits, and like clockwork, shots were once again being handed out.

Once everyone had a decent buzz going the boys and their crew headed out to a nearby nightclub to celebrate the success of the show. Remington realized halfway to the club that he had forgotten his phone in the dressing room, a fact that didn’t phase him, in fact he was happy to be rid of the constant ringing.

Once inside the packed club, Remington waved goodbye to his brothers and made his way to the bar. His buzz had diminished slightly in the car ride and that was a no go for Remington so he ordered a drink, which quickly became two, then three before he headed to the dance floor.

Packed in a sea of bodies the singer danced to the music, enjoying the happiness that came from the night’s events as well as the alcohol in his system. When a manicured hand grabbed him and pulled him close, he didn’t object, instead, he wrapped his arms around the dark-haired beauty.

The pair danced together to the techno music blaring overhead, strobe lights illuminating their faces, hands roaming freely over each other’s bodies before the woman leaned in and planted a sloppy kiss to Remington’s lips.

If there was a moment of panic, a spark of recognition somewhere in the sober part of his mind, Remington ignored it. Instead, he deepened the kiss with the gorgeous stranger, when the pair eventually pulled away from the kiss, they headed to the bar for more drinks.

When Sebastian came to let Remington know it was time to head to the hotel, the frontman wasted no time in asking this new girl if she’d like to go with him. Much to the dismay of the older (and wiser) brother, she said yes and everyone piled into the van and were chauffeured back to the hotel to continue the party.

Morning light filtered through the window a sign of a new day, but as Remington opened his eyes the gravity of last night hit him. He was alone in his hotel bed, the white sheets crumpled and covered in streaks of makeup (his or hers, he wasn’t sure). Flashbacks of last night filled his mind and all at once he realized the hickeys on his body were from a stranger, the realization filled him with shame and dread.

He found his phone which had been placed on his nightstand by one of his brothers or their touring manager (who always cleaned up after the boys’ wild nights) and on it were several unread texts and calls which came in at varying points of the evening.

[9:13 pm] My Love <3: It should be time for u boys to be on stage! I’ll be stalking twitter for updates and vids love u

[12:02 am] My Love <3: Watched a ton of vids that are already being posted! Get back to me when u get this my love so proud of u xx

[3:56 am] My Love <3: Guess your phone died or your out celebrating a great night. Call me when you see this or wake up. I love you.

[10:20 am] 5 missed calls

[10:27 am] *attached photo* REMINGTON.... FUCK YOU.

The photo on his phone screen displayed the girl from last night under the covers as a passed out Remington slept beside her. The caption didn’t say anything besides a winking emoji and she tagged him and his band’s account.

Instantly, he was dialing his girlfriend’s number, hands shaking as he paced around the spacious hotel room desperately waiting for an answer.

“Hello?”

Rose answered, soft voice hoarse from hours of crying.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry..”

Remington started to explain, words tumbling out of his mouth faster than he could form them.

“Save it”

Rose snapped before continuing her voice harder and more assured now than it was just moments ago.

“I never thought you’d do this even as the band started to gain an audience, I told myself that I had nothing to worry about. All the pretty girls and boys didn’t matter because what we had was strong but it sucks being proven wrong huh?”

Remington’s sudden surge of tears prevented him from speaking as the pain in his chest grew with each word. The saddest part of it all was that she was right and that ripped him up inside.

“Rose I-”

he whispered, voice barely audible even to himself.

Instead of an answer he was left hearing the sound of the call disconnecting.

The tour passed by in a daze for Remington and while his brothers desperately wanted him to be more present, they understood. He’d get on stage and sing, forgetting about the pain in his heart for that hour or so, as soon as the curtain closed the ache in his chest was back, a cruel reminder to the life-changing mistake he’d made.

Rose had cut off all contact with her now ex-boyfriend instead choosing to go through Emerson to inform him she was moving out of their shared apartment in LA.

Each night in his hotel bed, memories of the past three years filtered through his brain until he exhaustingly cried himself to sleep.

Remington used Emerson’s phone to send a series of texts to Rose to apologize, to accept full responsibility but the only reply he received was instructions to give Emerson his phone back and to leave her alone.

Just as quickly as the tour started it was now coming to a close a few months later. The boys were back in LA for a sold-out show in typical Los Angeles fashion. Remington never stopped trying to get ahold of Rose -- he sent flowers to her new address, letters where he begged for her back, apologizing and pleading for her forgiveness yet he was never awarded a reply. He didn’t blame her at all but that didn’t mean the pain hurt any less, he’d do anything for a second chance.

Shots of vodka were taken, cheers and high fives were given and the boys hit the stage. Remington gazed out into the crowd, a see of silhouettes behind bright stage lights. After a few songs, Remington sat down at the end of the stage, dark boots quietly thumping against the side.

“Y’know fans like to think we’re perfect”

he stated which earned a chorus of “I love you’s” as well as cheers from the crowd.

He smiled before continuing,

“As much as I love to hear it, it’s not true and sometimes we royally fuck up. I fucked up and these past few months have been hell so I wrote this song.”

The crowd applauded as they watched their favorite singer head to the piano, the spotlight shining on him as he sat down.

“This song is called Thorns,”

Remington began to play a hauntingly slow ballad about losing the love of your life and how apart of you is lost as well.

The pain in my heart is defeating me

Cracking me open for all to see

I’m numb to life, deep inside

Needing you to realize, you’re the better part of me

An illusion of love is what I fear

Taking each step is now unclear

A rose garden in my dreams,

You leaving now in front of me

Take my heart it’s filled with thorns

A rose trapped inside a perfect storm

Throw me to the wolves I’m on my knees

Begging for my rose to please believe

I made a mistake that I can see

Yet this pain without you is deafening

My heart of thorns cuts me deep

Paralyzing me and making me weak

Please my rose I beg you, have sympathy.

The rose garden in my dreams,

But you’re leaving right now in front of me

Take my heart it’s filled with thorns

A rose trapped inside a perfect storm

Throw me to the wolves I’m on my knees

Begging my rose to please believe

I love you Rose it’s all I know, I’m sorry for all my sorrow

By the time the song ended, Remington had tears blurring his vision. He was so wrapped up in playing the song he didn’t realize he had started to cry but to the audience that just made it so much more beautiful.

After the show, Remington hurried off the stage in order to collect his emotions but in the dressing room sat Rose. Her blonde hair was curled and she wore a red dress and in a true movie moment a dozen roses sat in her lap.

“Rem that song…”

she started but before she could finish, Remington ran over and threw his arms around her, hugging her to make sure she wasn’t just a figment of his imagination.

“I’m so sorry”

he whispered once she hugged back.

“The flowers were from Seb”

Rose mumbled, green eyes flicking down to them after their hug. Sebastian must have ordered them because he knew what Remington was planning. That was his older brother alright, always playing the papa bear role.

The singer’s mind was racing a mile a minute, he had a million questions but all he could do was apologize.

Rose shushed him with a chaste kiss before speaking,

“By no means have I forgiven you completely. That song however beautiful doesn’t make everything go away but I’m willing to work on us”

Remington nodded, happy she was here and willing to give their relationship another shot.

“I’m willing to do whatever it takes,”

he whispered, wrapping her in another hug.

They knew it would be a long road to get back to where they were before but Remington was happy he had his Rose back in his life.

A/N: omg that song was not that good I came up with it on my own though and I’m not a lyricist lol hope u enjoyed xx

#remington leith fic #remington leith imagine #remington leith #request #palaye royale fic #palaye royale imagine

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gryffindorcls · 5 years ago

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Falling Into Place

Hello, lovely readers!

This was my submission for the Miraculous International Discord's November fanfiction writing contest. (It won! YAY!)

The theme was "Fall", so I wrote about Ladybug falling off a roof during the Fall which leads to our heroes falling in love.

ENJOY!

WARNING: SEASON 3 FINALE SPOILERS

---

Marinette slumped and let out a frustrated huff. She flipped over her pencil and ran the eraser across the dark scribbles that covered the page sitting on her lap. After brushing off the paper with the back of her hand, she tried to sketch a new dress. Still unsatisfied with her work, she tore out the design, crumpled it up, and tossed it to the side.

Usually, designing was the perfect way for Marinette to take her mind off of things for a few hours, but today’s thoughts were all-consuming. She’d even gone to her favorite spot in the Trocadero Gardens in an attempt to calm her racing mind; however, much to her chagrin, nothing was working.

She threw her head back and allowed her skin to soak in the warmth that radiated from the sun’s slowly fading rays. While the failing light of day gave the gardens an ethereal glow, a crisp chill was beginning to settle over the city. The goosebumps on her arms were a subtle reminder that she was not properly dressed to spend any length of time in the cold Autumn air that was expected to arrive after sunset.

Marinette knew that she needed to leave, but her head still felt fuzzy. Thoughts of the previous day swam through her brain as she began to muster the energy to pack up her belongings and walk home. Unfortunately, she soon discovered that she was not yet ready to move from the steps of the Trocadero. When she finally gave into her desire to stay a few minutes longer, she closed her eyes and replayed yesterday’s events in her mind.

***

It had been late...too late. Ladybug was tired of dealing with Hawkmoth’s nighttime Akumas. It was three o’clock in the morning, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She was weary in both body and mind, for the strain of being the new Guardian was beginning to take its toll.

The number of Akuma attacks per week had steadily increased since Fu’s departure, and Mayura now seemed to be even more active than she was before. Were it not for Chat Noir’s encouragement and support, keeping up with her civilian life on top of being Ladybug would have been an impossible feat. Nonetheless, she was tired, and she knew that she needed a break.

To make matters worse, a steady rainfall had made that day’s Akuma battle particularly difficult. For both heroes, the world had been rendered nearly unnavigable by shallow pools of water that threatened to make them lose their balance. After an exhausting fight, Ladybug threw her Lucky Charm into the air and called for the Miraculous Cure.

She knew the time left on her transformation was limited, but the sensation of standing still was euphoric. For a brief and fleeting moment, she felt completely at peace.

“Why are you still here?” her partner called out, breaking her out of her reverie, “I just recharged, but you only have a few seconds before you change back!”

Ladybug’s heart began to race as the final warning beep on her Miraculous pierced through the night. She turned to Chat who stood wide-eyed on the other side of the rooftop.

Without taking the time to scan her surroundings, she began moving towards the edge of the roof.

“Don’t look!” she yelled in desperation.

While reaching for her yo-yo, her foot landed on a slick patch of concrete that caused her to stumble backward.

“Ladybug!” Chat screamed as she began to fall into the alleyway below.

She plummeted towards the earth with her face pointing towards the sky. As she fell, the bright pink light that accompanied her detransformation flooded the confined space.

Marinette closed her eyes and braced herself for the inevitable...but the crash never came. Instead, she felt a pair of strong steady arms wrap around her body and pull her close. The familiar smoothness of her partner’s suit slid against her bare hands as she melted into his embrace. His heart raced beneath her cheek as he cradled her against his chest.

“I got you,” Chat whispered breathlessly into her ear.

“Thank you, kitty,” she replied, her heart beating equally as fast, “You...um...you can put me down now.”

His long, golden hair brushed against her face as he shook his head. “I-I think I need a minute...could...could you give me a second?”

The reality of what had transpired over the last two minutes came crashing into Marinette’s brain. After taking a moment to process her thoughts, several burning questions thumped against the forefront of her mind.

She swallowed against a dry throat. “Chat?”

“Yes?” he said shakily.

“Did you see who I was?”

“Yes.”

“Are we close in our civilian lives?”

“Yes.”

“Is that all you can say?”

“No...I-I’m just...I saw you, and I’m afraid to look again.”

Marinette’s heart sank. “Oh? And why is that?”

He sobbed. “Because I’m not supposed to be this lucky...or unlucky...or...I-I almost lost both of you...I don’t know what I would have done if that had happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“She was right...that’s why...all along...you...the feeling in my chest every time I saw you. I didn’t know what that was. I know now...God, she was right!”

“Who was right? Chat look at me.” Marinette pushed herself away from her partner only to find a broken expression plastered across his face.

She'd seen pain like that on him before. Images of cold blue and stark white flashed across her mind and caused a shiver to course through her body.

Marinette needed to calm him down...fast.

She reached up and touched his cheek. “Hey, kitty, could you take me home?”

He took a stuttering breath and nodded against her palm. “Sure, Princess. Just hold on tight, okay? I’ll keep you safe.”

“I know you will.”

As soon as Marinette had secured her arms behind his neck, Chat pulled her against his chest, got onto his feet, and unsheathed his baton. In one swift movement, he launched them into the night and bounded across the rooftops. However, instead of putting her down when they had reached their destination, Chat stood silent and unmoving on her balcony.

“Hey...um...you can let go now. I can stand. I promise I’m okay,” she murmured against the collar of his suit.

His muscles tensed around her. “Mmmhmmm...sorry.”

“No...no, don’t be sorry, Chaton.”

“I-I just need you to be safe.”

“I am.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you can put me down. I’m not hurt. You saved me.”

Hesitantly, Chat gently placed Marinette’s legs on the ground. She slowly removed her arms from the back of his neck and dropped them to her sides.

He looked away. “I guess you want me to leave now.”

“No, Chaton.” She reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his forearm. “Please come inside. It’ll give us time to talk.”

Marinette took his hand and guided him to the windowed hatch that led to her room. Once inside, Chat sat at the end of her bed and stared at his hands in his lap.

“So,” she started, “you said we were close in our civilian lives. Can I ask how close?”

He looked up. “Will I have to give back my Miraculous if I answer that question?”

“No, I’m the Guardian now, and you will get to keep your Miraculous no matter what is revealed tonight. You are my partner, and you’re irreplaceable. However, I can’t help but wonder...is that what’s really bothering you about this situation?”

“No.”

“Okay...then what’s on your mind?”

“I realized something about...umm...someone said something to me today, and it’s all I’ve been able to think about. I was kind of distracted during the battle and up on the roof, and then you almost fell...what if I had been too late? What if I hadn’t caught you? What then, Marinette? You mean so much to me. You always have.”

“But you did catch me. Right now, you’re acting like we’re close friends who see each other every day. Are we really that close?”

He slumped. “You sit behind me in class.”

Everything inside of Marinette froze. “I...what?”

“You’re my friend, and...well, today I...she...and now…I can’t. I’m sorry...I can’t.”

“Chat, are...um...,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “I know you’re not Nino...are you Adrien Agreste?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, my…okay. T-that’s a lot to process, but we can do this. Ummm...would you like to detransform before we continue this conversation? Would that make you more comfortable?”

He shook his head. “I hate to do this, but I really need to get home. I have a photoshoot that starts in three hours.”

“But, Cha...no...Adrien, we need to talk. I need to make sure you’re okay. I can’t have you go home upset.”

“What?”

“Y-you can’t get Akumatized. Please stay.”

“You’re worried about me?”

“I care about you, and I don’t want you to be sad. It could be really bad if you stayed upset.”

“You thought I was upset? Oh, Marinette...I’m sorry.” He crawled across the bed, situated himself in front of her, and took both her hands in his own. “I didn’t mean to make you think I was upset. No...I’m a little...well, more than a little...I’m overwhelmed. The shock of seeing you fall, learning your identity, and then...well...never mind. Look, I’m fine. I think I just need to sleep. Are you sure that you’re okay? Because you not being okay is the only thing that would make me upset right now.”

Marinette laughed. “Yes, kitty. I promise that I’m okay. Thanks to you, I don’t have a single scratch on me.”

For the first time that night, he smiled. “I’m relieved to hear that. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.”

“Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Yes...but I’m going to be busy during the day. We can talk during patrol.”

“Okay.”

Chat pulled her into a tight hug. “Goodnight, my lady. Text me if you need anything, and please take care of yourself. I’m happy that you’re okay, and knowing that it’s you is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Marinette’s heart pounded against her ribcage. A mix of confusing emotions swirled around her mind, rendering her unable to speak.

When her brain began functioning again, she perked up just in time to see Chat climbing through the hatch above her bed.

“Goodnight!” she called out with a wave before dropping her voice to a whisper, “What happens now?”

***

Marinette sighed and tapped her pencil against the paper in her sketchbook. After Chat had left last night, she’d fallen into a restless sleep. The exhaustion she now felt today was lowering her ability to concentrate.

Just as she was about to give up and go home, she heard footsteps approach from behind. Her body tensed as she readied herself for a confrontation.

“I thought I’d find you here,” spoke a warm and loving voice, “What are you doing out in the cold, my lady?”

She breathed a sigh of relief. “Adrien.”

Marinette gasped as a gentle pressure pressed down on her shoulders. She reached up and was surprised to feel both a wool coat and a warm hand. Upon turning around, her gaze met two bright green irises.

“You’re shivering,” he said with a furrowed brow, “Why are you out here without a coat?”

“I didn’t realize it would be so cold.”

“It’s November.”

“Well, it was warmer earlier.”

“The sun is going down.”

Marinette turned her head away. “Yeah...I know.”

Adrien took a seat next to her on the stairs, snaked his arm around her shoulders, and held her against his chest. “We need to get you warm. Also, I thought you were going to take care of yourself today. Where is your jacket?”

Her breath hitched. “I...I left it at home. I’ve been a little distracted today because of...umm...you know. At least I know I can always count on you to take care of me when I need help.”

Adrien gave her a small squeeze. “Always.”

“Thanks, Chaton.”

“My lady, I...I...can we talk?”

She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Here? There are a lot of people around, and if you want to talk about what I think you want to talk about, I don’t think we should have this conversation out in the open.”

He shook his head. “No, no...umm...not here. I was hoping we could talk at your place...maybe? Only if you’re okay with it that is. Umm...my dad is kind of weird about guests, and I couldn't wait until our next patrol. Also, your room is kind of...what’s the word...warm, and we didn’t get to finish last night. I did a lot of thinking today, and I have some things that I really need to say. But then again...I don’t want to seem pushy...ugh...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t invite myself over like that...it's rude. I just…”

Marinette pressed her finger against his lips. “Hush, Chaton. Adrien is my friend, and Chat is my partner. You are always welcome in my home.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“The only reason I ask is because your face is turning redder than your suit. I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

She lifted her hands and pressed them against her cheeks. “I didn’t even realize...it must be because I’m still cold. No, you’re fine. Everything is fine.”

He pulled away from Marinette. “Are you sure? Because I know I’ve definitely made you feel uncomfortable in the past. Not so much now, but when we first met you...umm...yeah.”

“Well, things are different now.”

“Different...how?”

It was true that her friendship with Adrien had improved over the past few months, but that was only because of her decision to move on from him as a romantic interest. Her stutter had faded, but today it was threatening to rear its ugly head. A sadness that she had done her best to repress began to bubble in her gut. She shook her head to clear the unpleasant feelings from her mind.

With a smile, she met Adrien’s gaze. “Come...if we want to make it back to my place before it gets completely dark, we need to leave now.”

Adrien scratched the back of his neck. “My bodyguard drove me here, so if you wanted to go in my car, that’s an option.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Really? Great! Uhh...shall we, my lady?” He stood up and extended an arm for her to take.

After closing her sketchbook and slipping her pencil into her crossbody bag, she cheerfully linked arms with him. “We shall.”

When they eventually reached the car, Adrien opened the door for her, and she slid into the backseat. Moments later, he took his place in the seat next to her. They sat in a comfortable silence all the way to her family’s bakery.

Upon their arrival, Marinette quickly whisked Adrien up to her room before her parents had the chance to embarrass her. Once they were upstairs, they made their way to her chaise and sat down at opposing ends.

Adrien wrung his hands. “I want to apologize for last night.”

Marinette cocked her head to the side. “Why? You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault that you found out my identity.”

“It’s not that. I want to apologize for leaving before we had the chance to really talk about this. Honestly, I don’t care if I show up to a photoshoot looking exhausted. That’s what make-up is for. The truth is...I...it had to do with something that Kagami said to me yesterday.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Did you know that she told me that she’s in love with me?”

“I assumed that she did. That’s why I left after I helped you two escape the Bourgeois’ anniversary party. I didn’t want to get in the way of anything that may have been happening between both of you. I’m happy that the two of you got together.”

“That’s just it...I didn’t get together with her. Not officially. We went out on a few dates, but that’s about it. I could never fully commit...because I’m still hopelessly in love with someone else.”

Something suddenly clicked inside of Marinette’s brain. “If he’s Chat Noir, then that means that the girl he’s been in love with all this time is…”

“Me,” she whispered.

Adrien hung his head. “Yes.”

“You’re in love with Ladybug.”

“Oh, um...yeah. I’m not just in love with Ladybug...I’m in love with you, Marinette. Yesterday when I saw the two girls who hold my heart meld into one amazing person, I could barely function.”

“Wait...me? You...Adrien Agreste...are in love with me?”

“Yes, and I think I have been since the day I handed you my umbrella. Something Kagami said to me yesterday made me realize that you’re not just a friend to me. I’ve always felt like you were more than that. Now that I know that you’re also my lady, I finally know why.”

“What did Kagami say to you?”

“She wondered if I was ready to be her boyfriend yet, and I said no...again. Kagami then asked me if it was because I was still in love with you. I always knew you were special, but hearing Kagami say that to me...let’s just say she was right. Last night, I went to sleep trying to figure out how I was in love with two people at the same time, and then after the battle, I discovered that I was actually in love with only one person. That's why I freaked out.”

“It’s okay...I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t freaking out, as well.”

“And I’m sorry...I know you’re in love with Luka. I seriously debated telling you all of this, but I can’t lie to you...especially not about how I feel. I...”

She cut him off. “No...I’m not in love with him. I mean, I love Luka, but not romantically.”

“But I thought...you two were always so close. You always told me that you were in love with someone else. If it’s not Luka, then who is it?”

Marinette took a deep breath and gathered all of her courage. “The boy that Ladybug kept turning down Chat for...well, he’s sitting in this room.”

Adrien’s eyes lit up. “Me?”

“It’s always been you. I tried to give you up a few months ago, but I failed.”

“Really?”

She bit her lip. “That umbrella you gave to me is my most prized possession. It reminds me of the day I fell in love with a kind-hearted boy who stood in the rain and told me that he’d never really had friends before. My heart has belonged to him ever since.”

Adrien tentatively scooted closer. “Marinette, I…”

“And then...I couldn’t talk to you for the better part of a year…”

“Marinette…”

“Didn’t you ever wonder why I was always such a spaz around you? I just kept messing up everything, and OH GOD...I did so many embarrassing things…”

“Marinette…”

“There’s that time I gave you Master Fu’s prescription...oh, and the wax museum...ugh...this is horrible!”

“Marinette!”

She looked up to find Adrien sitting inches away from her. “Y-yes?”

He reached over and took her hand in his. “May I kiss you?”

“What?”

“I’d really like it if I could kiss you.”

“We’ve kissed before, Chaton.”

“That’s not fair...I don’t remember any of those kisses.”

“Are you sure you want to kiss me?”

“Only with your permission.”

Marinette couldn’t believe this was happening. It felt like a dream...a beautiful dream come true. Butterflies fluttered around her stomach as she gave him a small nod. Seconds later, Adrien’s lips crashed onto hers. He let go of her hand wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her closer while she reached up and cupped his cheeks in her hands. Fireworks exploded inside her as he deepened the kiss.

All too soon, they broke away.

Adrien chuckled. “Wow.”

Marinette nodded. “Yeah...wow.”

“Do you think we could do that again?”

“We have to go on patrol soon.”

“I think Paris will survive one night without us.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “You see...you say that now, but what happens when an Akuma shows up?”

Adrien pressed his nose against hers. “Hawkmoth’s Akumas show up regardless of whether or not we’re patrolling. At least tonight we’d have the purr-fect incentive to finish the fight quickly.”

“Yes, you’re right, and who are we to turn our noses up at something that would boost our effectiveness as heroes?”

“Does that mean I can kiss you again?”

“Yes, Adrien. You can kiss me again...whenever you want.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

“Kiss me, my prince.”

Adrien once again closed the space between them. She smiled beneath his lips. It was the perfect moment. She suddenly felt as if she could do anything and overcome any challenge as long as she was with her other half.

Marinette knew they were going to be okay. Her heart told her that their love would not end in disaster, and her mind assured her that their relationship would not lead the world to ruin. That timeline was gone. Paris was safe. They were safe. Everyone was safe. Together they could protect each other from Akumatization. This time, their love would not be their weakness; instead, their love would be their shield. It was finally their time.

They spent the rest of the evening in each other’s arms until Adrien was called to return home. Before leaving, he promised to see her again the next day. Marinette waved goodbye as he climbed through her hatch and disappeared into the living room below.

That night, Marinette went to sleep with a smile on her face and a fullness in her heart. Everything was finally falling into place.

AO3

FanFiction

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archived-lara · 5 years ago

Text

I saw a post that made me think about Daisy and Jon so I wrote something heavily inspired by it. Longer than I guessed it would be.(it’s like 1.7k words) (link for ao3 ) spoilers up to MAG 165

Jon and Martin found her just as Basira did. She almost wished they were a bit late. It wasn’t really fair to Basira maybe, but god she just wanted it to end. Daisy was waiting for her. She knew Basira would keep her promise and death would be better than being lost in the Hunt. The forever chasing, the aimless wondering, the prey that run, but not fast enough. Never fast enough.

She tried finding monsters. Monsters like her. Cause they were faster and stronger than other prey, took longer to hunt and she just needed to bid her time till Basira found her. She hated causing harm she hated hunting what once was people till there was nothing but fear left in the poor husks of... Well she never got to finish that thought before really, no need to start now. Monsters were... Better? Was it because she didn’t want to hurt what might’ve been innocent people, or was it just her old habit snapping back into place? So long they fooled themselves in the archives, it’s gone away yay(!) But as much as it loves the chase the Hunt won't let its prey to run forever, and its hunters don’t get to hide either. There is a game to be played, and no one cares what the pieces might want.

So the only thing Daisy had to look forward to in between one prey and the next was the relief she would get when her partner killed the big bad wolf, with the scent of blood she never got to outrun and the maddening thump-thump-thump of the adrenalin filled heart. A beat so loud it almost covers up the screams of her prey. All she wanted was the quiet. With a bullet to the head or the heart, or maybe both, she hoped to find rest.

But of course, Jon wouldn’t let it. Perfect timing really. Right as she was preparing to be the prey, Jonathan Sims had to walk in there with a wild new haircut and horrible clothes that doesn’t make the slightest sense and damn it all to hell, was he seriously wearing her cardigan? He called out to Basira first. Asked her to give him a minute, pleaded a little when she wanted to refuse, her head no doubt swaying with the power around them, the same power that ran through Daisy’s veins. In there you had to pick, are you the hunter or are you the prey, will you run or will you chase? Jon broke through it and made her stop.

Against Martin’s better judgement it seemed, although he didn’t seem to protest much, goodness did they have a death wish or were they trying to test the limits of the new world?

No! Daisy wanted to yell, Please just don’t make me live with your blood on me too. But the Hunt didn’t call to her. As he took a step closer she wanted to run. She felt like prey.

It didn’t make sense to her mind that all her instincts yelled at her Danger, Run, Danger when all her eyes saw was this small man who managed to look like he hasn’t slept in years even in a world no one needed sleep, all skin and bones. And he managed to talk her down. Calm her ever louder heart with just his words and the damned sense of security he brought her, the quiet she longed for. She felt her claws retracting, the thrill of the chase loosening its grip on her. Till she couldn’t stand anymore. She realized she was gonna fall down and for the first time in months she could let it. And when she did let go instead of the hard ground she fell into the skinny arms of her friend. How he managed to hold her up was a mystery to her, but she didn’t bother thinking much as she let herself be embraced, be held up and finally feel how tired she really was. Jon shrugged off the cardigan awkwardly as he held her and wrapped it around her shoulders.

...

Now they walked. Slowly towards the center of all these horrors, to the place that had been both a safe haven and hell for all of them, to do something about this apocalypse world, Daisy once more under the calm gaze of the Eye, walking away from the Hunt. Tuning out its calls. Basira was silent beside her, and Daisy knew it must be just as weird to her walking like this when just mere hours ago she was going to kill her. Jon and Martin walked in front of them, trying to start some idle conversation to drown out the screams around them.

Daisy noticed the more they walked the quieter Jon got. He seemed like he was going to be sick any minute. She reached for his arm, only for Basira to grab it in the air, eyes wide, on high alert. Both Martin and Jon froze not knowing what to do.

“Relax, I was just gonna ask him if he was ok,” whispered Daisy. Her throat ached every time she did more than humming, words felt foreign on her tongue after months of not talking. Then, pushing past the pain of her partner fearing her, she turned her eyes to Jon and raised an eyebrow at him.

Martin's eyes somehow got wider and turned to Jon in an apologetic way “Oh I am such an idiot, I completely forgot. Do you need to...”

“I think I need to, yeah sorry I just thought it wasn’t the time to... bring it up? Why don’t you guys go ahead, I’ll join you in a moment.” Jon looked ashamed for some reason. Daisy wondered what this was about.

“Are you the only person who needs to go to the bathroom in this hell world?” she couldn’t follow their conversation and decided the air could do with a bit of lightening. And it worked, Martin looked like he was gonna laugh.

“Wha- oh god no! Nothing like that, well somethi- yeah no not like that at all. I just. I need to vent for a bit. Like how I needed to read the statements. You don’t need to hear it. Martin usually takes a walk, so just go ahead?” Jon was so flustered, Daisy almost felt bad about the joke but when he looked up to her and Basira there was a hint of amusement in his eyes. They were slightly glowing like there was a green fire behind his irises.

Basira just exhaled slowly and walked ahead, Martin followed her but Daisy stayed.

“Aren’t you gonna go with them?” Jon asked after a beat.

“Would you mind if I stayed? I don’t think Basira likes having me around just yet. And I’d prefer to sit and wait now that I can. Besides it must feel better not being all alone while, what did you call it? Venting?”

“I don’t have a word for it actually. It’s like the world is full of statements that demand to be read and it just spills out of me. I wouldn’t mind it but you might. It isn’t pretty Daisy.”

“Huh, interesting. You know I don’t mind listening to you record, hey how long have you been holding that tape recorder?”

“Oh? Since Martin and Basira walked away? Sorry I didn’t even notice. It will hit closer than it did back then Daisy, we’re in the Hunt’s territory now. You... You don’t need to hear that, or see me like that.”

“Jon, if we are talking about not needing to see the avatar sides of each other, I’m still half covered in dried blood you know, so we kinda already crossed that line, don’t you think? I know you can’t help thinking it’s a bad thing, but for what might be the first time in my life I have some hope that we don’t have to do this forever. Do what you need to do. You wouldn’t ask someone to not look while you were drinking water back when we needed to now, would you?”

“I... thanks I guess and. Daisy for what it’s worth I’m sorry. For everything. Don't give me that look, I know we talked about this. I’m not saying you’re completely innocent. Doesn't change the fact that it sucks and I would prefer you didn’t have to go through it.”

“Thanks. I’m sorry about you too. Oh and thanks for the cardigan too.”

“You do know it’s yours, right? It was too big for me anyways. I just grabbed it on our way out of the cabin. I think I was hoping I’d get the chance to return it to its owner.”

“Didn’t you have a statement to spill out of you?”

“Wow rude much. I’m getting to it, calm down.”

So they sat on the ground full of dead grass and Daisy let his friends voice wash over her. Her brain not fixating on any one word and following the flow of his voice, looking into his bright green eyes, watching the tension drain out of his shoulders. With the comforting weight of her favorite cardigan and holding the hand of her friend who saved her more than twice now she just managed to find some sort of calm. The world was quiet apart from Jon’s shooting voice and even the horrific things he was saying couldn’t take the peace away from her. So Daisy let him fill the quiet. When Jon finished his recording, they got up. Jon looked worried but Daisy just smiled at him and they started walking again.

“Thanks,”

“Jonathan I don’t care if your eyes glow now, if you thank me one more time, I will break an arm or two.”

“What?”

“I’m serious. You’re so skinny it would be like snapping a twig”

“No, not that. I mean maybe that, we’ll come back to it in a moment but my eyes are what now?!”

Daisy just laughed.

“I’ll stop saying thanks if you do too... C’mon they’re this way.”

---

“Did you guys know Jon finds merry-go-rounds thrilling?”

“MARTIN!!!”

“You what!?”

“Oh no no no I must know more! Tell me everything!”

#the magnus archives #cw: suicidal thoughts #is that how you tag that #idk the beginning is a bit hard I guess cause. yknow. the promise...#jon and daisy's friendship...#I can't stop writing jon talking daisy out of the hunt I'm sorry #I got sidetracked a lot so not everything was said #but i tried so read if you want I guess #my post

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lililiyababe · 5 years ago

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shiver | k.sy

→ paring: kwon soonyoung x neutral reader

→ genre: sweet sweet fluff + light make-out

→ warnings: suggestive language

→ word count: 1.4k

→ summary: when a blizzard knocks out the heat in your small apartment, you and soonyoung desperately search for ways to stay warm

→ a/n: for the lovely anonnie who requested i write a soonyoung fic similar to this one i wrote for junhui!! thx so much for ur kind words n support n im so so sorry it took me a MONTH to finish this request hhhh i hope i could meet ur expectations <3

Soonyoung absolutely despised the cold.

He knew that this time of year came with its benefits⁠—snow, hot chocolate, knitted sweaters, and the like⁠—but Soonyoung swore he would trade all of them in without hesitation for a temperature above freezing. Not only was he sensitive to the chill that always managed to sneak in through the creavases of his heavy jacket, but now not even his own apartment was safe from the hellish weather that plagued your town. As his breaths left small traces of fog in their wake, Soonyoung could only pull his thick blankets tighter around him, burrow further into the couch, and complain loudly about his misfortunes.

Your head finally poked around the corner after about the third time he exclaimed your name in agony. Although he knew you couldn’t see his full figure since most of it was submerged underneath his blankets, he continued in his exaggerated trembling and muttered through chattering teeth, “Did you fix it?”

In response, you simply rolled your eyes and shushed him, one finger harshly pointing to the receiver pressed against your ear. “Yes, I understand,” you spoke kindly into the phone despite the irritation that riddled your features. “There really isn’t anything you can do?” Soonyoung sat up straighter, straining to see if he could pick up anything from the other half of the conversation. However, your reaction told him all he needed to know.

“Are you sure?” You plopped yourself down beside him, the hood of your giant winter coat falling with the action. With a sigh, your gaze met Soonyoung’s, and his could feel his own heart plummet into his stomach. “Okay, well, thanks anyway, I guess. Mhm. Bye.”

It was only when you threw yourself back against the cushions and groaned in frustration that Soonyoung realized he wasn’t alone in his misery.

“Please tell me that was a ‘yay i’m so happy the landlord is on his way to fix everything’ groan?” He muttered with a halfhearted smile. While he knew it was far from the truth, his stupid question did succeed in bringing a hint of a smile to your face.

“Nope,” you shook your head with a sigh. “The blizzard knocked the power out all across town, so until the city fixes it��“

“Don’t say it,” Soonyoung groaned, dramatically flopping his head against your shoulder.

“No heat. We’re gonna have to tough it out.”

“No...” Soonyoung muttered weakly, drawing out the word for as long as he could while gradually falling into your lap. If there was one thing he despised, it was being trapped inside with nothing to do. The fact Soonyoung could feel the bitter winter chill slowly turn his hands numb only proved that he truly was in his own personal hell. “But I’m cold,” he whined, his voice muffled by the fabric of your jeans.

You scoffed. “How are you even cold? You’re hogging all the blankets.”

It was true; Soonyoung had gone through your entire apartment and collected as many blankets as he could find once he realized the heater had stopped working. He lost track of how many he had piled on top of himself, but even wrapped up in his cocoon of warmth, Soonyoung still had goosebumps pricking his skin.

“Maybe I need something beside blankets to keep me warm...” He shifted so that he rested on his side, looking up at you through thick lashes. His request, of course, seemed innocent—he simply wanted to cuddle with you—but he wouldn’t complain if your mind wandered to other, more fun implications.

You hummed with an amused grin adorning your features. After years of knowing you, Soonyoung realized he received that specific look far too often. Your eyebrow would always quirk, a dazzling smile occasionally followed by a small chuckle would overtake you, and your irises would shine with something Soonyoung believed to be affection. Sometimes, you’d give him this look and kiss him passionately; others, you would find the object nearest to you and hit him in the arm with it. Such is love, he’d tell himself while suppressing a laugh.

Luckily for him, that day, you settled on the first option. Soonyoung always found humor in how quickly things could progress between the two of you⁠—one moment, you’d be bickering over blankets and the next you were sitting on his lap, kissing him gently. He knew for certain that his lips were slightly chapped, that his fingertips probably felt more like icicles as they ghosted over your cheeks, but feeling your breath against his skin filled him with the warmth he had been missing.

Eventually, you unzipped your coat, an action that excited Soonyoung until you draped it over his own shoulders and pulled the hood so snuggly over his head that it covered his eyes. He felt his face crack into a bright smile, and he threw his head back against the couch cushions. “Why?” His tone hinted at annoyance, but, if anything, your oddities held the opposite effect over him.

“Your ears looked cold,” you replied with a giggle. Soonyoung merely hummed in response and replaced the grin on his lips with your own.

“Y’know...” he muttered with a small sigh. Although he pulled away enough to allow himself a moment to breathe, he could still feel your eyelashes brushing against his cheek as you kissed along his jawline, causing him to completely forget his train of thought. You hummed inquisitively once you reached his neck, eyelashes fluttering as if prompting him to continue. Oddly enough, you were the only person he knew that could actually make Soonyoung speechless, and most of the time you hardly used any words to do so.

He whimpered quietly, for in heated situations, Soonyoung always regressed to a whinier version of himself. Not that you ever complained about the noises that got caught in his throat; in fact, they were encouraged.

As your tongue peaked out between your lips to trace the dips in his skin, Soonyoung’s hands slid underneath your shirt to rest against your back and push you even closer to his chest. Immediately, you inhaled sharply, painfully, as the cool air hit your bare skin, causing Soonyoung to pull away with concern dancing in his irises.

“Cold,” you muttered, tugging at the blanket Soonyoung was sitting on top of.

“Oh,” he breathed a sigh of relief, and before you could say anymore, he slid down the couch so that he was laying on his back and you rested on top of him, slipped off one of his many blankets, and wrapped it tightly around you. “Does this help?” he whispered as his knuckles brushed gently against your spine. You shivered yet nodded nonetheless, and he wondered if his touch held a more powerful effect over you than the weather outside.

Your nails threaded gently through Soonyoung’s hair, and suddenly nothing else in the world mattered aside from pulling you impossibly closer and kissing every inch of your skin he could.

And so he did, with his hands, shaky from the cold, tugging you closer by the hips. He focused on kissing you as if he’d never have the pleasure of doing so again, on bringing that dazzling smile back to your cheeks, on making you whisper his name into the miniscule space between your bodies.

Now, it was his turn to leave trails of kisses down your neck, eliciting a small gasp from you, partially because you weren’t expecting it and partially because he knew you wouldn’t know how to explain away any marks that he left without severe embarrassment. He chuckled at the thought, bringing one hand up from its place on your waist to cup your reddening cheeks. He tenderly kissed your forehead, then your nose, and your other cheek.

You hummed in contentment and rested your forehead against his, and he watched with a grin as your eyes fluttered blissfully closed. The heat of your breath warm Soonyoung cheeks as you murmured into his skin, “You still cold?”

As Soonyoung felt your chest rise and fall against his and saw the hint of a smile tug at your cheeks, he felt many things, but cold was not one of them.

“Nope,” he sighed, nuzzling further into the couch, his thumb tracing light, absent minded patterns against your cheeks. He could feel your body relax—your breaths deepening and eyebrows softening as his fingertips ghosted over your skin—and you kissed him slowly. Lazily, as if you had all of eternity to share with Soonyoung underneath this massive pile of blankets. After pulling away with a soft hum, he muttered, mostly to himself, “this feels perfect.”

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wykart · 6 years ago

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13 x Missy

Sooo I wrote a fic for the first time in a lonnnng time (and the first one for doctor who). It’s just a bit of angsty fluff + a bit of sadnesss

Fandom: Doctor Who

Pairing: Missy/Thirteenth Doctor

Synopsis: The Master is dying after being lasered in the back by her shitty dick twin and the doctor returns to save her (yay)

The starless sky stretches out above her, bright fires reflecting in her eyes – she started those fires – so she can’t exactly complain. The doubled-edged knife in the back had been one thing – but now – she was to be consumed by the very monsters she created. She may not have stood with the doctor, but she fell all the same. She hopes that the doctor understood what she had meant, the knowing look in the eyes and the blade pressed against his side (I am going to stop him. I will stop him so that he can become the one you know now. One more nudge towards the waters of change he goes). It was fitting that the one who ended her was herself, it was an exemplar of personal growth taken to a comical extreme. Now, she is lying on a Mondasian colonist ship, paralysed and halfway dead, watching the world burn up. This time, she watches from the inside, instead of from a vantage where she can spectate with glee as death rears its head to feast. She wonders if anyone is watching now. Little does she realise; there is.

Amongst the explosions of carnage surrounding, she doesn’t notice their approaching footsteps. Missy is startled when a face fades into view - a kind expression that blocks those fires above that were teasing her so mercilessly.

She glows, the warring fires behind her a ringed halo around her form, casting down upon her darker scalp while platinum ends dance in the breeze – a breeze conjured by a ship being eaten up by the vacuum of space, but peaceful all the same. Her face is dashed with the ashes of war, eyes wide and concerned – an intoxicating mixture of forest green and earthy tones that reflect the icy pools staring upwards.

Missy tries to move, but instead feels the full extent of her paralysis. The new arrival notices, however, picking up on the slightest twitch of an eyelid or tightening tendon in the face. Hope spreads across the woman’s face in a golden grin. “Hello there.” The woman reaches down to touch the other’s face, a gentle gesture brushing a coil of brown hair aside from skin doused in dirt and tears. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner, but this black hole made things a bit of a chore, let alone crossing my own time stream. I was able to lock onto this place as a previous location in the tardis matrix, then track any Gallifreyan life signs – there aren’t too many of them around after all – and… I’m rambling aren’t I?” The doctor glances back at missy apologetically. Missy smiles, curling her lips to a thin upturn, the best she can do in her current condition.

“Hello.” she whispers.

The doctor chuckles, a mirthful laugh brought new joy on new lips. She flashes Missy a winning smile. “Hello.” They spend a mere moment gazing into each other’s eyes before the doctor springs up. “Right then!” She exclaims, and begins pacing the dusty landscape while waggling her sonic screwdriver around like an idiot. Same old Thete.

“Now Missy, I’m afraid there’s not much I can do for you, you’re going to have to regenerate.” Missy wishes she could roll her eyes, maybe offer a sarcastic remark or two - but is instead left essentially lifeless. She thinks perhaps that the doctor is enjoying this a little too much. You really do underestimate me you know, she imagined herself saying, I crafted the device myself, there is no chance of regeneration. “I know what you’re thinking, that regeneration is impossible, but I believe I might just have found a way around that.” The doctor smirks, throwing her screwdriver into the air and catching it. Oh this one’s smug alright, some things never change. “Overriding the mechanism requires a surge of regeneration energy far more powerful than a single cycle, perhaps more than a full set, and all from one source as well blimey - quite the weapon I might add - brilliant, but altogether a little contradictory to your new and improved goodness.”

“Luckily for you, I have plenty of regeneration energy to spare, a charitable donation from the Gallifreyan high council in fact - though I won’t blame you for that oversight, I would never have suspected it myself considering my somewhat rocky relationship with that charming bunch.” She rounds on Missy, her eyes flashing gold as regeneration energy surges behind them. Suddenly, Missy realises what she is about to do, and wishes that she could protest. “Anyway, I think that I might just have a near infinite number of regenerations – that’s quite enough to spare I think.” She smiles again. Happy, Missy thinks to herself, so happy. Doesn’t she realise that this could kill her? The worst of it is; she probably does.

“Alright then,” the doctor said, rubbing her hands together and blowing starlight from her lips, as if kindling a small flame. “Here goes nothing.”

The doctor bends down beside missy, inching closer. She places each of her glowing hands upon Missy’s cheeks softly. Her face grows lax, expression softening as her lips part slightly, letting bright particles flow from them, flooding life and movement into her patient. She kisses her, soft and slow and deliberate - as much a procedure as an affectionate gesture - and missy is overwhelmed by a mixture of power and love. A soft golden glow envelops them both, energy coursing from one to the other, like breath pushed back into her lungs, wrenching her back to life. Missy feels each nerve activate one by one, a tingling sensation as feeling and autonomy returns. The doctor helps her to her feet. Standing up, she no longer finds her self having to crane her neck up to meet the doctor’s eyes. It’s a welcome change.

The doctor exhales a sigh of relief. “Phew, I’m okay!”

“Wasn’t that part of your plan?” Missy teases, finally to snark this idiot as much as she deserves.

“Well, sure it was part of it. But I didn’t think it would actually work!” She laughs and links her arm through Missy’s, striding out enthusiastically and dragging Missy along with her. Arm in arm, they trek across the desolated forest, embers dancing on the winds of battle, towards the tardis.

Missy can feel the next one along, feel it ready to burst forth into the world and bring a new age with it – like a child’s tooth, clinging to the gum by a strand of mangled skin, the new pearly white waiting in the space it will leave behind, ready to come through and bite.

It’s strange, she’s never felt the same sentimental connection with her incarnations like the doctor did, and she had always considered them foolish to do so. It probably has something to do with her past as a parasitic body snatcher, or perhaps her sheer number of incarnations, a constant plight for extended life that blinded her from the individual pleasures of a renewed consciousness. Even so, other time lords were never quite as sentimental, or as dramatic, as the doctor when it came to regeneration. To the doctor, it was something akin to death, and missy supposed it was to do with the mortal company he kept, who could not sense that underlying essence that lived in each incarnation, or overcome the superficial aspects of existence. He had adapted to that mortal way of thinking, all those infants he surrounded himself with weeping for him... her, she corrected. How could she forget.

She stood now – the doctor – fiddling around with the tardis console as if she had some idea of what she was doing. She wore an abominable mix of clothes as usual; baggy blue ¾ pants held by revolting yellow suspenders over a striped top. At least the coat was in good taste, and the look of it billowing out behind her as she strode the scene was admirably dramatic. The doctor had never shared the master’s sense of style.

“You copied me.” Missy teases.

“Well, it was bound to happen eventually. To be honest, I was beginning to think I’d developed a fault. Besides, you’re much prettier.” She casts missy a sarcastic, sultry look. Missy rolls her eyes.

“Well dear, that’s a given.” A sharp stab of pain lurches through her hearts and she stumbles forwards against the console, gasping for breath. “Why is it taking so long, I’m itching to get this over with.” She groans.

“No, you’re not,” the doctor sighs matter-of-factly. “You’re scared.”

Missy scoffs. “I’m not scared, you ridiculous old fool.”

“Yes, you are,” she steps away from the console and meets missy’s eyes. “You’re and sad too. You spent a long time as missy, you changed so much.” She gathered Missy’s hands in her own, glowing with yellow light and buzzing with energy, with potential. “You’re not ready to let that go.” She whispers.

“Don’t be stupid.” Missy snatches her hands away, forcing the regeneration energy down again. Not yet. The doctor raises an eyebrow, as if Missy has just proven her right. “Oh, shut up,” Missy snaps. “I’m not being sentimental, I just really liked this one. I mean look at me,” she does a little twirl in her purple skirt, though it’s ravaged and caked with dirt, “I’m gorgeous.” The doctor smirks, a loving, but knowing smile. It’s infuriating. “You sure you want me blasting off in here – new regeneration cycle, and a borrowed one at that – it might ruin your pretty little control room.”

“It’s ok,” the doctor says, knocking her fist against the glass cylinder extending from the console, invoking a warbled sound from within, “she’s a resilient one.”

Missy smiles, and feels a sadness stretch through her like poison – a melancholic affliction of the blood planted by the doctor, spreading through her veins. It was a promise of stars, a promise of adventure. A promise made on the crimson grass fields of Gallifrey under silver canopies and a dark, beckoning sky. [Stand with me, it’s all I’ve ever wanted. Me too.]

“I wanted to stand with you, I was going to come back. I –“

“Missy,” the doctor interrupted, her voice suddenly gentle and series. “Everything you’re about to say, I already know.” Why, why does the doctor have to be so forgiving, after everything she’s done… “You’re here now, and I have a promise to keep.” [Every star, you and me, you watch us run.]

Missy nods, staring down, trying to take in everything she’s feeling, the feeling of being herself, being Missy. “Isn’t it funny that I ended where I started,” she begins, and – to her horror – she is close to tears, “that I always knew on some subconscious level, what was going to happen in the end.”

“That you’d double-cross yourself like the cunning bastard you are and secure both your birth and your demise.” The doctor replies snidely, coming to face her.

“Well, when you put it like that it sounds rather obvious but… yes. Oh listen to me go on with my poetry,” she sighs, “I sound like one of your pets.”

“Friends, missy, and it’s time you learned the difference.” She reaches out and places her hands on Missy’s shoulders, staring deep into her glassy eyes.

“It’s never felt like this before regenerating. Timelords aren’t supposed to feel like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like they’re dying.” And listen to her, lamenting ‘oh the pain, oh the misery.’ It’s weakness, all of it. But, she doesn’t believe that, not anymore.

Before she can beat herself up about it any more, however, the doctor leans in – just a fraction – and brushes her with a soft kiss. It’s enough to set her hearts racing, every cell in her body screaming their need to stay alive. The doctor reaches up and cups Missy’s cheek gently, and – Missy is relieved to see – she is tearing up as well. Sentimental idiot. Her cheeks are flushed, and her blonde hair hangs about her face in ragged tufts, sticking out at odd angles in the heat, the energy surging.

“Koschei, listen to me,” she says, her hands now clasped loosely behind Missy’s neck, “you are so very strong.” She emphasises every word, a whisper. To her dismay, the doctor steps back, letting her fingers linger and brush her shoulder as she backs away, smiling sadly. Showtime.

Missy gulps back tears and returns the doctor’s smile as she finally allows that humming, all-consuming energy to course through her. She can feel it, the walls of the dam burst and crumbling to a flood of gold, of life. Looking the doctor in the eyes, she whispers one final message.

“I don’t want to go.”

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summerbummin · 6 years ago

Text

Fairy Tail Disbanded

A newspaper sits on a bar top. The title printed in thick black letters. Fairy Tail Disbanded.

Letters blur into pictures and notes, all connected by strings.

Lucy is crumbled on the floor in front of the board.

She just wants her friends to come back.

Abandoned on a side table, Aquarius broken key comes into focus and Lucy's hunched form blurs in the background.

The scene fades away to Natsu and Happy sitting around a campfire.

Natsu turns his head to say something "Hey guys do you-" then stops.

Because his team isn't there.

He clenches his fists, knuckles turning alarmingly white as he stares into the campfire.

"I will get stronger."

He had to get stronger.

His was no longer a quest to find his missing father, but to avenge him.

The fire roars higher and when it goes back down it's Erza we see, staring at herself in the mirror.

She lifts up the piece of hair that always covers her eye.

An image flashes of her being tortured back in Tartaros. Kyoka's face and that awful creature.

She lets the lock of scarlet hair fall back into its original place.

The mirror ripples and reveals Gray in the shower.

The water streaming down his bent head, and flowing over his arm, and down his torso.

A puff of white steam comes out his mouth but he's still shivering

Why is it so cold?

It's almost like he can't feel anything. Numb to the world.

His gut clenches as he feels that darkness creep up his skin, itching at his face.

The final gift from his father, a parasite.

He twists the shower knob, with the red letter H, on full blast.

The image cuts to darkness before lighting up again a moment later.

Spotlights turn on and we see Wendy and Chelia, side by side behind a red show curtain.

Chelia smiles at her and Wendy smiles back, but her eyes don't hold it.

Chelia turns away and Wendy's smile curls downwards, her hand clutching her new Lamia Scale emblem.

The scene frizzles and cuts for a second and you see a Fairy Tail mark, then it goes back to the snake woman.

The snake woman warps into a cross, the sleeve of a Magic Council uniform.

Levy is seated in a chair, quill in hand as she fills out the council papers on her desk.

Gajeel is standing by her side, munching on an iron rod, his shadow over her.

Suddenly the pen stills.

Levy is staring at a picture in a glass frame. A group picture of fairy tail.

Gajeel stops eating, setting down the chunk of metal he's been gnawing on. Appetite lost.

"We'll get it back, right?" Levy's voice shakes, her eyes still glued to the picture.

Gajeel places his hand over hers. "Y-yeah."

The view pans up, from a wooden ceiling to a gray sky, then back down and we see Juvia sitting in the rain on a bench, water plastering her bangs to her forehead.

Water flows down her face in a never ending river.

Is she crying? Or is it just the rain?

Her hands are in her lap, the signature teru teru doll sagging between her limp fingers

She's all alone again,

and this time she doesn't have an umbrella

Water sloshes, from clear to brown.

A waiter sets the drink in front of the brunette.

Cana is hunched over in her stool, for once not looking lively.

She picks up the drink, bringing it to her lips

then sets it down again.

Cana closes her eyes. It's just not the same.

Eyes open, one with a lightning shaped scar.

Laxus stares off into the distance, his fur coat rustling in the wind.

A cough builds in his throat and he chokes it down, but not without being noticed.

Freed is behind him, in view over his shoulder.

Evergreen and Bixlow are even further back, just dots and lines.

Freed looks at the man with concern, he keeps his mouth closed, but Laxus hears the unspoken words.

His companion's worry is practically radiating from him.

He sighs, pushing back his blonde hair, in that awful new hairstyle no one likes.

Where is that old geezer?

Thunder booms, soon followed by a crack of lightning, so bright it could burn your retinas.

Makarov is sitting in the hull of a ship, floor rocking with the tide, devastation written on his face.

He looks up at an invisible something. "Tell me, First. Was it worth it?"

For a split second you swear you see a small girl standing next to him, with curly hair so long it almost hits the floor.

She looks down at her bare feet.

"No. It wasn't."

A/N: I feel like in the manga everyone moved on too quickly, bc yay we're happy and together again! They were separated for a whole year. There should be some drawback and pain from that. I feel like Mashima did a good job with Lucy, but what about everyone else? Both Natsu and Gray lost their dad's again, Laxus is kinda dying, and Erza was tortured for gods sake. So I made this angsty thing. It's a mash up of headcanons, a oneshot fic, and a video script. At first I imagined this as a kick ass montage but I could never make it myself so I wrote this. If anyone wants to try and make a video edit or an animation of this, please do so!

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haveyouseenmymind · 7 years ago

Text

Phantasmagoria

Yay, it’s Trek Fest 2018! All thanks to the lovely @outside-the-government for this great event. :)

I have finally broken through my fluff phase and wrote something a bit differently to my other fics. (At least I hope so?) Of course it’s McKirk, that seems to be my muse lately, but it’s not too heavy on the relationship part, as it concentrates mainly on Jim. That’s why I thought this would be perfect for his special week.

However, I hope you guys like it, cause I wrote this over the weekend instead of doing uni stuff. :D

For general info and better orientation, this takes place during the end of STID.

Fandom: Star Trek AOS

Pairing: McKirk

Warnings: angst, mentions of child abuse (once), kind of mind fuckery

Words: 3115

Phantasmagoria: random series of associative images, illusions or phantasms as in dreams or under feaver.

He remembers this place. Not only the house, but also the farm surrounding it. The dry dirt dusts up into the air as he takes step for step, coming closer to the old farmhouse. He has been here before, but when?

Curiously, he steps up the porch and knows before he actually hears it, that the second tread will make a horrible squeaking sound, alarming whoever lives here of his presence. He flinches at the noise, hates it, always has.

He remembers being forced to avoid it while sneaking back into the house, but also getting caught once due to his carelessness. And the thorough beating he got for it. After that he had learned his lesson, so he had found a way back into his room over the roof and his window. Frank had never caught him again after that.

His eyes grow wide. Of course, Frank.

He’s in Iowa, back home. Back at the farm he had hated so much when he was a child, where his mother had left him and his brother back in the care of the pathetic excuse of a stepfather.

Why is he here? Isn’t he supposed to be somewhere else?

“Jim.”

Someone is calling him. A man. Does his voice come from the inside? Why does it sound so familiar?

He’s in front of the door, and he’s not sure if he wants to go inside. What will expect him in there? Empty rooms? Or Frank on the couch, surrounded by dozens of beer bottles, and his glassy eyes, hazy from too much alcohol, glued to the vidscreen? Giving a shit about Jim coming back?

No... Frank doesn’t live here anymore. He’s long gone.

Jim’s thoughts are growing messy, his head is spinning while trying to gather the right memories. He has to close his eyes, take steadying breaths to calm himself down, as he can’t afford to panic now.

When he feels calm enough to face whatever awaits him, he opens his eyes, and reels back immediately.

He’s inside the house, but how? Just a second ago he was still standing outside, and he can’t remember moving an inch away from his position in front of the door.

What the hell is going on?

There are noises coming from the kitchen, but it’s not Frank, can’t be Frank, so who is in there? He slowly starts moving, wariness mingling into his confusion, and when he steps into the room, sees what’s in front of him, he stops right where he stands, too shocked to say anything.

His mother is standing at the stove, with a silly pink apron, the ribbon, sitting on her lower back, neatly bound. She’s humming as she stirs the content of one of the pots on the stove plates with a wooden spoon, not looking up, but instead completely entranced with whatever she’s cooking.

It’s wrong. So, so wrong and Jim has no idea what’s going on, cause this can’t be his mother.

Winona Kirk is a messy cook. Jim knows this from his own experiences, the last one made at an awkward attempt to bring the family back together, to amend her wrongdoings from his and Sam’s childhood.

When he had been back after… after what? Images flash through his head, a planet destroyed, a ship exploding, and Jim tries to remember, but the memories flee away from his mind’s grasp.

But he remembers setting foot back on earth, his mother waiting for him with Sam by her side. Days later they were back at this house, the kitchen a mess and no aprons with pretty ribbons.

She suddenly looks up, turns around and spots him standing in the door, and he stares at her. She looks the same as that day, same clothes plus the apron, wrinkles around her eyes, made of worries and old, ineradicable grieve that’ll never grow out of her heart, no matter how much she tries, how much she runs away from it.

But she smiles at him, looks even happy?

Suddenly Sam rushes into the room, straight towards the coffee pot, but his mother is still looking at him contently, until her eyes stray away from him, move towards the kitchen table.

“Look George, Jim is back home.”

Every muscle in his body tenses as he goes immediately rigid, cause she is not talking to Sam. He turns towards the table, afraid of what he’ll see.

Jim must have gone crazy, cause indeed, there’s he sitting, not a day older than 29, looking the way Jim knows him from uncountable holo pictures his mother had tried to hide from him at the attic.

George Kirk, his father, looks up from his own mug of coffee, staring at Jim and scrutinizing him with a calculating gaze.

“You’re not supposed to be here, son.”

It’s too much. Jim can’t handle this, can’t cope with what’s happening here, as he must have lost his mind. He whips around and starts running, runs to get away, to get out of here, and suddenly he hears the voice again.

“Jim, you need to come back.”

It’s leading him towards the outside, so he runs for the front door, stumbles through it, only to be blended by bright light.

He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them again, he’s not on the farm any longer.

Instead he finds himself in a desert of ice, no living soul to see far and wide. He looks down on himself, and again he’s taken aback. His clothes have changed somehow, he is clad in a dark grey parka, it’s hood drawn tight around his head, protecting him from sharp storming wind whipping snow into his eyes, making it hard for him to even see his own hands.

It should be cold, freezing as hell, but he can’t feel it. He doesn’t know why, but nothing so far has made any sense.

Looking around, he can’t see anything but ice and snow. What is he supposed to do now? As he has no better idea, he starts walking into whatever direction. He can’t orientate himself, there’s nothing to hold on in this barren landscape, but he has to do something and waiting for anything to happen won’t do him any good. He has to get away.

Jim doesn’t know how long he’s walking, if it’s minutes or hours, as his sense of time is completely lost to him.

But suddenly, he sees a dark figure in the distance so he’s mending his pace in hope that this person knows how to get away from this horrible wasteland.

He’s getting closer, and faster than anticipated he stops behind the figure, who turns out to be a man, standing at the edge of an icy cliff.

The man turns around to him, and Jim recognizes the old wrinkled face.

“James T. Kirk.”

Spock. The old Spock, stranded in this universe, cut off from his own timeline and suddenly Jim remembers the planet.

Vulcan. Destroyed, from the inside out. Billions of lives lost.

Remembers the ship, the Narada, steered into it’s doom by a madman craving for blood and revenge.

He’s on Delta Vega, this is where he met the old Spock, though not like this. Jim knows that he should have stumbled into a cave, where Spock scared a monster with only a torch away.

But still, he had turned around the same way, greeting him with the exact same words.

Why was it different this time?

There is no time to wonder though, with Earth in danger, and every other planet belonging to the Federation.

“Spock, we need to go! Nero, he’s after the Earth. We need to find Scotty!”

But the old Vulcan doesn’t move from his spot, just turns back towards the edge of the cliff and looks up in the sky.

“It’s too late, old friend.”

Jim feels a pang of sympathy, of course he does, not only did the man lose every way back home but he also had to witness his planet dying. His gaze follows Spock’s up, to where a red planet should be seen, but is gone now.

And he’s right, Vulcan is not there, but in its place is another planet.

Jim feels nauseous, cause this is his planet, it’s Earth, but that doesn’t make any sense, as it should be light years away from here.

He keeps staring, and sees how his home slowly crumbles down, collapses with the outside getting sucked inside, and then - it’s gone.

Rage fills him, this is not how it had happened, they were supposed to save his planet, the whole Federation and not stand by, watching the catastrophe without being able to do anything.

Tears fill his eyes, so many more lives lost, and it’s his fault, Spock’s fault, Nero’s fault.

He roars at the Vulcan, gaze still caught on the now empty sky.

“Spock!!!”

And he lets the anger consume him, overtake his mind as he launches himself at the old man, ready to throw punch after punch.

But Spock suddenly vanishes, there’s nothing left but silent air, so he stumbles over the edge, rolls down as he falls and falls and falls.

This has to be it, he thinks. He wants it to end, wants it to stop hurting, wants to believe that his planet, his home, his friends are not gone, lost to the endlessness of the universe.

He can’t stop it, maybe he can escape this somehow, and in a last attempt of desperation, he closes his eyes and hopes.

It seems to work, as he feels that his falling has ended, but he also feels dizzy, all his senses overworking until everything stops at once.

He lets out a harsh breath, tries to calm down once more, and slowly opens his eyes again. Looking up, he sees the white ceiling of a room and realizes that he’s lying on his back on a couch. Ice and snow are gone, but he has stopped wondering and second guessing his mind. Maybe he should just accept that he’s gone crazy.

“Are you finally awake, sleeping beauty?”

His head whips around, to see who’s there.

Christopher Pike is sitting at his desk, scribbling down on his PADD, and not looking up. There’s this smirk on his lips, the one that always sneaks up on his features when he’s teasing Jim, or when he thinks that he has outwitted him.

He sits up and realizes that he’s wearing his cadet reds, that he’s in Pike’s office at Starfleet’s campus.

By now he has given up to find any logic behind all of this, he’s tired and just wants it to end.

“You know Jim, I really approve of your hard work, but you also need to look after yourself. There are these things called sleep and food, you really should try them sometimes. I heard they are supposed to work miracles on exhausted minds and bodies.”

The Captain finally looks up from his work and grins smugly at Jim.

But Jim doesn’t find it in himself to smile back, as he sees images of a broken man flashing through his mind, remembers his hand squeezing a lifeless body, desperation welling up in him. Hatred blooming in his heart, pouring through his veins, the cause another monster unleashed onto the world, who killed Pike and so many more.

He remembers their last conversations, and finally breaks down.

“Sir, I’m so sorry. Oh god, you were right. So right.”

Pike frowns, as if he doesn’t know what the blond is talking about.

And Jim buries his head in his hands, can’t look at him, can’t stop the tears streaming down his face, and he’s ashamed for losing his composure in front of the older man.

But Pike says nothing more, he just raises from his chair and sits himself down next to Jim.

He lays his hand reassuringly on his shoulder, but Jim doesn’t feel the touch. It nearly drives him crazy, he wants to feel it, needs to. Needs it as proof that Pike is really here, alive and well and his soul not lost between fire and debris in the ruins of Starfleet’s Headquarters.

Pike smiles softly at him, as if nothing is wrong, as if he hadn’t died an unneccessary death that could have been avoided so easily.

“It’s going to be ok, son.”

And Jim swallows his next heaving breath, cause Pike is mirroring his own words uttered not long ago in a seedy bar where Jim was trying to drown his sorrow on the bottom of a glass of bourbon.

Jim thought he had felt miserable that day, but that is nothing to the pain and devastation he feels right now, cause this is just his mind playing tricks on him. It can’t be anything else. He’s tormented with the image of this man he respected and admired, and Jim wishes nothing more for this to be real, to be more than just his own delusional wants.

“It’s ok Jim. You did your best. But now it’s time. You have to go.”

He lets himself be pulled off the couch and shoved towards the door, though he doesn’t want to go. This time he wants to stay, cause Pike’s office is safe, is right, is…

He turns around when he’s through the door, opens his mouth to speak, but when he looks back the scenery has changed again and he’s staring at the warp core of the Enterprise. With a pang in his heart he remembers what happened, his ship falling out of the sky and the sacrifice he had to make in order to save his crew.

The core is aligned, so all that’s left is crawling back through the Jefferies tube leading towards the entry of the chamber.

“Jim, don’t do this to me.”

The voice is back again, starting to sound desperate, and Jim tries moving faster towards the direction he believes it to come from.

He knows that he should be in agony, cause he remembers it, white hot searing pain running through him, but again he feels nothing.

He finally reaches the end of the shaft, closes the door that seals off the radiation and separates it from the rest of the ship.

Someone is waiting for him. It’s his Spock, the on from his own universe, crouched down on the other side of the glass, and again his mind doesn’t get the memories completely right.

But that doesn’t matter now, as he starts growing tired, slumps down in front of the Vulcan and looks at him.

A single tear is running down his cheek, and Jim, who has never seen his first officer this devastated, tries to console the grieving man, as he presses his hand in the Vulcan salute against the glass. Spock mimics him, looks at him while more tears threaten to fall and follow the first one.

“You need to wake up, Captain. He’s waiting for you.”

Jim has to close his eyes, can’t hold them open any longer when it’s the most exhausting thing he’s ever done.

He’s afraid of closing them, fears where he’ll find himself next, but in the end it’s too hard to stay awake and so he gives in.

The world turns dark, and Jim feels like he’s floating, caught between sinking and rising up towards the surface.

But what surface? Where is he? And who is waiting for him? Who is he?

“Jim don’t you think you have slept long enough now? Come on kid, let me see those pretty baby blues of yours. Please, Jim.”

There is no doubt, Jim knows this voice, the man it belongs to. And his heart is aching, can hardly stand how broken he sounds, wishes he could comply to the pleading.

“You know, you even made Nyota cry. Don’t you think you owe it to her to wake up?”

Oh he wants to. So badly and with every fiber of his being, but he’s still floating, doesn’t know how to move, how to leave this dark and endless void.

“Spock keeps coming every day. I don’t know if it’s me or him who’s more uncomfortable about him sitting here in silence and staring at you. It’s kind of creepy, so do us a favour and save us both from the awkwardness.”

The voice keeps talking to him, creeps into his thoughts and mind until the urge to rise is unbearable and Jim needs to move, needs to get away from here.

“Scotty is blaming himself. Every time he comes to visit you, he keeps apologizing and how he should have stopped you. I think he needs you to wake up even more than I. Do him the favour, that man is not supposed to be this mournful.”

He doesn’t understand everything, only snippets reach him but they are enough to make him want to fight.

“Sulu and Chekov came to see you today. Do you know how hard it is to look into the kid’s sad puppy eyes? I told them you’re going to be ok. So don’t make me a liar, Jim.”

Jim holds onto the voice, on the man behind it, that his mind is desperately trying to remember. He’s important to him, that’s a natural given and the only thing he can be sure of in this otherwise maddening silence.

The man keeps talking, telling him about people, their life without him. About his little girl waiting for her uncle Jim to wake up and answer her letters. How he’s going to take Jim back home to Georgia with him so that they both can recover and escape to a save retreat for a while, until he’s fit to go back to duty. About how Jim will make his life miserable by whining and complaining how bored he is, but he’ll take that over Jim being unconscious and still for the rest of his life.

And suddenly Jim remembers.

He starts fighting for real, cause they all were right, he needs to get back to him, can’t let him wait any longer.

Other voices start to mingle with his, they interrupt him, his parents, Pike - their words an infinite loop that help him rising closer to the surface.

And then it happens, he’s waking up.

His eyes snap open, the voices are gone and his senses start working again. He feels sheets prickling on his skin, and he wants to sob in relief, cause finally everything is real and he knows, that he is right where he's supposed to be.

He turns his head to the right, as he hears someone shuffling around, and there he is.

Bones.

tags: @thevalesofanduin @medicatemedrmccoy @toosouthernforspace @reading-in-moonlight @feelmyroarrrr @0dannyphantom0 @eyeofdionysus @bsotstory @neon-green-bra @loststarlight @imoutofmyvulcanmind

Non-reader: @mishacolyte

Star Trek: @theartofeheheh

If anybody else wants to be added to or removed from my tag list, or has special wishes for being tagged, just let me know. :)

#trek fest 2018 #star trek aos #mckirk #james t. kirk x leonard mccoy #james t. kirk #leonard mccoy

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selenelavellan · 7 years ago

Note

DVD commentary for the first Moon Goddess AU piece you wrote?

I did the whole first piece for you. It starts off all serious but it gets a bit silly further in, whoops.

Under the cut for length~

TheGoddess of the Moon has long been the most elusive member of thepantheon.

Mostof the other Gods make regular appearances, have standardinteractions with their priests and people, make their necessarydisplays of power and presence to yield more believers to their side.

Butnot the moon.

Sheis silent, when she interferes. Like the pull of the tide, steady andgradual and gone again as soon as you are acclimated to the change.

Hesees her the first time when his bird falls ill.

Ijust thought this sounded cool.

No,I was thinking about mythos and gods and honestly my favorite mythsare the ones where gods are on pedestals and its like 'oh they'rehigh and mighty and powerful beyond belief' and then you meet themand it's more like 'wow cant believe the world hasnt completelyfallen apart if this is one of the people in charge of it the mythsare super wrong'.

So I started the story with the way Selene would beperceived, the way people on earth would see her, the way they mightthink of her, because Dirthamen's POV is the one we're hooked into,and that's the version of her that he is familiar with.

Shes comparedto water, her elemental antithesis, and described as distant andsilent, and all these other traits that she's just...not. Which givesroom for a perceived character growth, moving forward, and makes theevents with Dirthamen seem particularly unique.

–

Heprays to the Sun God first. Prays for guidance, pleads and promisesand tries to show how badly he wants Blackbird to recover, becausethat is what the Sun God responds to. Desires. He burns brightly,decked in gold that shines as brightly as his eyes, and is neverquiet in his plans. When he appears to Dirthamen, he offers a newbird, instead. He offers entire flocks of them, offers to let himlive in solitude in his lands with no responsibilities but those thathe chooses. So long as he becomes a priest of his, andobserves all of the rituals ascribed to that position.

ButDirthamen is not interested in more birds.

Hejust wants his bird.

TheSun God tsks, and sighs and says that is much too boring a wishfor him to bother with.

“Perhapsmy more restrained associate would be better for you to ask,” Headvises. “Try asking the Moon.”

SoDirthamen does.

–

HonestlyI just love writing Des a lot. Giving him unfettered power here wasGREAT, because he can instantly sate all of his desires and thosearound him, supposedly. But he's very much quantity over quality(more room for character growth, yay), so when Dirthamen is like 'Idont actually want a hundred birds of super rare breeds if you couldjust heal this particular bird instead...'

Honestly,I imagine Thenvunin gets stuck with them all. He has like a light,wistful thought like 'gee more birds would be nice' and suddenly theSun God is there like 'HEY HAVE I GOT A DEAL FOR YOU :D!' and nowThenvunin has all of these rare breeds and he's like 'what a generousgod'

Butin the end Des is Des, and he's just like 'I dont want to deal withthis let someone else handle the repercussions.' also he's notactually great at healing or repairing things, his powers are betterat replacing them.

Hedoes his research, asks the few people he can find that are familiarwith her rituals what sort of things he needs, and gathers thenecessary ingredients.

Thefirst time he burns the candle in the bowl of water and prays,nothing happens.

Blackbirdgets sicker, and Dirthamen gets more desperate.

Whenhe tries it a second time the next night, only to find the sameresults, he seeks help in other places.

Itis in a very old tome, packed into the back of his adoptive parentslibrary, that he finds his answer.

TheGoddess of the Moon is at her strongest only when the moon is full.

Thatwill be three more nights, Dirthamen laments.

Still.

Itis Blackbirds best hope.

Heretrieves more medicine to keep her alive, soothes the appropriatelotions into her wings, and tries to make her as comfortable aspossible while they wait.

Onthe night of the full moon, Dirthamen burns the candle in the basinof water, and prays again. He prays for Blackbirds health, for theGoddess’s assistance, for her mercy.

Hefalls asleep before the wick finishes burning.

–

Writingabout passing time is the WORST. I'm always worried i'm dragging itout or not representing it accurately and its like 'heres a paragraphabout absolutely nothing please dont close the tab' but this was ok,I think.

Ialso love the candle burning in a bowl of water. It's an actualcomponent of a spell my fiance has used, and I just thought thesymbol of the fire (for Actual Selene) being surrounded by water(Perceived Selene) was so gooooood. I still like that for her,honestly.

–

Whenhe wakes, the moon is still out, the stars still heavy in the sky.

Andthere is a woman in his bedroom, singing to Blackbird.

–

'Theresa strange woman in my room, singing to my sick bird. Should I dosomething? Naaah.'

Ilove Dirthamen so much I can just stick him in weird situations andhe'll just go along with it so long as theres no immediate danger itswonderful

–

Sheis very tall, long legs draped in sheer white cloth beneath goldenembroidered stars. Her hair is as pale as the moonlight, eyes brightas the green of the earth shining in the starlight. She sings aboutthe sky. About the stars, and the moon, and about love.

–

She'ssinging 'fly me to the moon', the Olivia Ong cover in particular, itsso gorgeous, I love it.

–

Dirthamensbreath catches in his throat when she turns to him.

–

Shetakes his breath away a lot, its such a good moment in movies thoughlike when theres that inhale and everything sort of stills for amoment while the love interest turns to look at the main character? Ilove that moment, I live for it, its cliché as hell and it gets meabsolutely every time.

“Sheshould be fine,” she assures him, placing Blackbird carefully backinto her cage. “You have taken very good care of her.”

“Thankyou,” he manages. Should he bow? He is unsure how to proceed. Noneof the readings or people he spoke to have ever mentioned her showingup in person. Only the final results of her assistance, or herassociates appearing in her stead for the grander favors. Perhaps hedid the ritual incorrectly? Perhaps there is an additional price topay for her assistance, now.

–

Selene'sreasoning on deciding to visit Dirthamen in person could be prettyaccurately summed up with the 'bow chika bow wow' music theme.

She'sjust had Des for company for several hundred years, ok? Give the poorgirl a break.

–

Shesmiles at him, clearly reading his unease. “Blackbird has alreadypaid her price,” she informs him.

Hisbrows crease slightly, wondering what she could have taken that wouldbe adequate, before she holds up one of Blackbirds feathers in thelight.

“Youare a very fine caretaker,” she praises. “Kind, and patient. AndI notice you are not currently affiliated with any of my companions.”She takes a step closer to him. “Would you be interested in beingone of my priests?”

–

'I noticed you met Des and didn't sleep with him. That's ahuge turn on for me, and alsoyour bird mentioned you were single. Want to get to know me better?;D “

–

Dirthamenswallows, and rises from where he had been seated on the floor. “Whatwould you require of me?”

–

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

“Nothingyou could not spare,” She assures him. “You would spreadknowledge, and kindness, and healing. Lots of study time, and writingmostly. I really only have the one night per cycle I can interferedirectly. The rest of the time, I would let you know where to help.Where to leave things, where you are needed most.”

Itdoes not sound like a cumbersome job, he thinks. He could handlethat.

“Andwhat would I gain in return?”

–

Somewhere, in another universe, thatline is the start of a cheesy Dirthalene porno.

–

Hereyes soften as she steps towards him again, closing the space betweenthem as her hands gently cup his face. Warm, so much warmer than hisown, her touch causes a shiver to ripple through him. Her face leanstowards his, eyes asking silently for permission to continue as shelingers a breath away.

Whois he to deny a goddess?

Henods, as much as he can, and feels a rush of power when her lipspress against his.

–

Thecombination of your first kiss and an actual goddess filling you withmagic has got to be crazy overwhelming, honestly.

GJwith that 'restraint' thing Selene.

–

Hiseyes slide closed as her hands drift down to his shoulders,Blackbirds feather still in her hand while she fills his mind withknowledge. Of her home, far, so very far away. Her rituals,responsibilities, ancient magics and secrets, things long thoughtlost.

Hepresses back against her in eager acceptance, a silent plea for more.

Herhands fall to his shoulder blades, pressing the feather against himand sprouting two large black wings from his body. Black as night, asthe comforting cloak it drapes over the world while it rests, wherethe Moon hangs as it watches over the world.

Hegasps at the rush of power coursing through him, and she catches himwhen he nearly topples forward.

“Ihave you,” she whispers “I will always have you. And you willhave me, in return.”

“Iaccept,” He answers without hesitation.

–

Selene, you could have at least waiteduntil the second date to share your secrets of the universe,honestly.

Not that Dirthamen is doing muchbetter, signing away his soul after a single kiss.

GOOD JOB YOU TWO, DEFINITELY NOTRUSHING INTO ANYTHING HERE.

–

Shekisses him again, and his world becomes a swirl of moonbeams andstarlight. Prayers and praise shared between their limbs and lips andlaughter.

Untilthe sun begins to rise, and she pulls away.

–

They boned.

–

“Ihave to go,” she sighs against his neck.

“Takeme with you,” he returns.

“Youknow I can’t.”

“Selene,”he murmurs into her hair. A new name, a forgotten name, only for himto know.

–

Yeah so when I wrote the first part,Selene had been isolated for so long that her name had been forgottenby everyone and everything. Her name wasn't recorded anywhere, andeveryone just referred to her as The Moon Goddess, because therewasn't anyone around to share her gospel or anything. I think Ichanged this moving forward, but I'm not 100% sure.

Also, more of their 'instant soulmateconnection' bit. Although, to be fair, she did actually link theirsouls together during the activities, I just never got around tobringing that up in the story (spoilers, I guess?)

–

Shepulls back, brushes her lips against his. “You know how to reachme, if you need to.”

“Willyou come back at the next full moon?”

Selenesmiles, already fading in the light of the day “If you call forme.”

Heplaces one last kiss to the back of her hand as she disappears, handgrasping at the empty air left behind in her wake.

Blackbirdcaws from within her cage, healthy and awoken by the sunlight assurely as Selene had been taken by it.

Hiswings have vanished, and he knows now that they will appear only whenshe returns.

Butstill.

Hecan wait.

Hewill have lots to learn, in the meantime.

–

Honestly, this is probably like anideal start to a relationship for Dirthamen. One night a monthtogether, and the rest of the time to pine and learn and think backon memories. A wonderful, warm sort of ache. Beautifully tragic, in away that's not really a tragedy.

Thanks so much for the ask

#answered #moon goddess au #thanks for the ask <3 #jahaliel

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storywool · 7 years ago

Text

Longing (part 1)

Summary: *SLOOOWWWWBURN* Y/n Y/L/n is a recent graduate from New York University and Sam Wilson’s life long best friend. She wrote her dissertation on a new experimental surgery that could alter the brain’s memory and speech patterns, a surgery that she plans to use on one of the most famous men in America: the Winter Soldier. Part 1 follows her plan to get the surgery approved and the first steps in the process to de-Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes. part 2 // part 3

Word Count: 7,760

“Which one, the green one or the beige one?” Y/n asked her best friend, holding up two distinctly different blouses over her bare chest. She had just gotten out of the shower, had her hair up in a towel, and nothing on but black pants and a bra. She quickly interchanged the two shirts. The green one was a sheer, long-sleeved v-neck that she often paired with a scarf, and the beige one was this peasant type shirt that Sam Wilson didn’t completely understand. But he eyed both of them carefully, knowing she needed his honest opinion.

“The beige one. Looks more professional.” He replied, taking a sip from his coffee. She nodded and roughly took the garment off the hanger. She forced the top over her towel headdress, and hurried back to her room when she pulled it over. Sam followed her and watched her open up her large makeup bag. She shuffled around in it. “You nervous?” He asked.

She scoffed, “Nah, I’m just meeting with Tony fucking Stark to propose a new, never been done before surgery to potentially ‘fix’ the guy who killed his parents.”

Y/n Y/l/n was a recent graduate from the New York University medical school; in undergraduate school, she majored in biology and psychology. She graduated top of her class with honors, and she had recently taken the year off to travel with Sam. She wasn’t sure what she was doing with her career currently, but after Sam joined the Avengers, and she heard all the stories about James Buchanan Barnes, she seemed to find her calling. She began her focus on neurological, experimental surgery and developed an idea to try on the cryogenically frozen superhero. After proposing the idea to a professor, getting his approval, and talking it over with Sam, she managed to get an interview with Stark (without the help of Sam). She had been preparing for this interview for weeks, and today was the day. Her nerves were absolutely shot and she felt like throwing up.

She laughed to herself. Despite being best friends with Sam and living with him for the past ten years or so, she hadn’t met a single member of the Avengers other than Steve Rogers. She was studying abroad in Norway when Steve and Natasha came to Sam for help, so she didn’t get to meet them then. She hadn’t met them not because she didn’t want to, but she was always busy when they weren’t, and vice versa. But she was about to meet Tony Stark, and terrified didn’t even begin to explain it.

“I can still come with you.” Sam offered.

She shook her head as she finished putting on mascara. “No, it’s fine. I want to get this because my science is sound, not because I know the right people.” Sam always had connections and was always using them to help her. She was thankful for that, but she wanted to do this on her own. She wanted to feel like she earned it.

Sam yawned loudly and stretched. “Well, I believe in you. I gotta go though.” He wrapped Y/n in a side hug so she wouldn’t have to stop putting on her makeup, and kissed her on the cheek.

“Gotta go play cards with Scott some more, you mean?” She smiled cheekily at him through the mirror. Since they didn’t have any cases currently, all Sam seemed to do was hang around Stark Towers and play cards with Scott Lang. But it paid the bills, and he was happy. After his tour with the army, he was never happy, so it was nice to see him this way.

He shot finger guns at her instead of responding. “Good luck!” He called down from the hallway. Y/n heard the front door open and then close.

Y/n finished her makeup, blow dried her hair, and threw on a pair of black heels. After throwing on a coat and hurriedly locking the door, she walked away from their shared house and headed toward the subway station. She took the train that would lead directly to Stark Towers. The whole ride, she rehearsed her ‘elevator pitch’ to herself over and over until she felt she could say it without shaking.

She exited the subway tunnels and entered the bustling New York City streets. Directly in front of her, was the landmark building- ‘Stark’ was written across the top in large, white letters. The building was a staggering 93-story high skyscraper separated into two sections, and lined with wide, blue windows. Y/n took a deep, shaky breath in and moved toward the door when a familiar hand reached out to grab it for her.

The large figure smiled down at her as he held the door open. Y/n looked up at the blonde-haired man and returned the grin. Steve Rogers was looking dapper as ever in a white t-shirt, black skinny jeans, and leather jacket. Y/n mentally laughed at the Captain America patch on the pocket. He looked healthy, considering everything that had happened recently. She couldn’t help but feel her anxiety wash away as she looked up at her friend. Sam was always the one to make her smile and laugh, but Steve always made her feel safe and at home. Part of it was because they were both from Brooklyn and she felt a sense of home in his presence, but he also saved Y/n’s life a few months back. She trusted him ever since.

“Mornin’ beautiful.” He beamed. His voice was chipper, even for him.

“Back at ya, handsome.” She entered the building and walked with Steve to the front desk. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I had my date last night.” He had been talking about this date with Sharon for weeks, and it had finally happened. Y/n wasn’t entirely sure what happened but it was obviously good.

Y/n smiled and gasp lightly, “Yay, finally! I can’t wait to hear all about it. You seein’ her again soon?” She handed the receptionist her I.D.

“What brings you here today?” The receptionist asked.

“Tomorrow night.” Steve replied at the same time.

“Oh fun!” She said to Steve first, and then turned to the receptionist, “I have a meeting with Tony Stark at 9:00.” The receptionist ran her name through the computer, printed out a fancy I.D. badge, and handed the badge and her license back to Y/n. Y/n thanked the woman, and walked toward the elevators with Steve.

“Meeting for what?” He raised an eyebrow and pressed the up button. Y/n swallowed; she hadn’t told Steve about the operation yet because she didn’t want to get his hopes up if she couldn’t fix his best friend. Y/n mulled over whether to answer the question truthfully or not. She didn’t want to mention Bucky, only for Stark to say no.

She cleared her throat, “Uh, I wanted to talk to him about a possible internship.” It wasn’t a total lie. After that, she acted like she was too busy marveling the beauty of the building to answer in depth; again, not a total lie. The lobby was enough to take anyone’s breath away; it had vaulted ceilings, flying buttresses, and all the latest technology displayed on all the walls. The Stark Tower was very much like the old S.H.I.E.L.D tower, except it was a bit smaller and fewer people traveled in and out the doors. Even the elevator was awe inspiring with its glass walls.

“I looked just like that when I first came here.” Steve whispered to her on the packed elevator.

Y/n made light conversation with Steve the rest of the way up. They talked about Steve’s date a little and whether they were going to do their weekly Monday lunch with Sam or not. They agreed that they would, and that she’d meet him on the 60th floor after her interview. He got off and wished her luck. Once he was gone, her anxiety returned immediately, and only rose as the elevator did.

On the 93rd floor, she exited the elevator and entered a waiting room type area. At the front desk sat a brunette woman, who Y/n informed that she was here to meet with Mr. Stark. The receptionist replied curtly, “He’s very busy. Impress him in the first minute or he won’t hear you out.” Y/n nodded, swallowed the lump in her throat, and took a seat. She drummed the folder in her lap with her fingers and bounced her leg up and down. Five minutes passed when the elevator doors opened up and the infamous Tony Stark marched out. He was wearing a tight, black suit; his face was clean shaven despite a few scraps from a possibly recent battle. He said hello to his receptionist and hesitated when he saw Y/n.

She stood up and stuck her hand out to shake his. “Who’s this?” He asked.

“Your nine o’clock, sir.” The receptionist replied.

“Also known as Y/n Y/l/n…sir.” Y/n blushed slightly.

Stark eyed her up and down before turning on his heel. “Y/n, I’m sorry but I don’t have a lot of time. Talk fast.”

Y/n began to panic. Everything she had planned to say was thrown out the window. She stuttered along her words as she tried to follow Stark as best as she could. “I think I uh-” As they walked, several assistants came up to Stark and asked him to sign here, initial there, smile at the camera, etc. Y/n recognized one of the women as Pepper Potts, Tony Stark’s girlfriend. Y/n couldn’t seem to get a word in. “I spoke with my former research professor and-” Y/n stammered as she was interrupted by more people. Stark held up a finger at her to tell her to wait. Y/n could feel her panic and anger rising. He was being completely unprofessional and Y/n did not appreciate it.

She stopped walking and realized Stark didn’t even know she wasn’t following. He was continuing on farther into the distance. Y/n swallowed her pride, gathered her breath, and shouted over the noise and chatter, “I found a way to fix Bucky!”

Stark stopped moving and turned back to face her slowly. The noise around them died down as her words sunk in. Y/n’s face turned a bright red and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry.

“You what?” He whispered. Y/n couldn’t tell if the whisper was cynical or surprised. She was shaking. Stark could feel his own heartbeat increase slightly. No one outside of the Avengers and the few remaining people from S.H.I.E.L.D knew what happened in Siberia between him, Steve, and Bucky, and even fewer people knew that Bucky went back on the ice.

“I-uh- think I know how to fix Buck- Sergeant Barnes.” She stuttered. She fidgeted with the folder and held it out for him. He quickly swiped it from her hands, and him and Pepper read over the files inside. The folder contained a detailed explanation of the operation, a twenty page research paper, and the cited works. Pepper oh’d and awed as she skimmed the paperwork.

Y/n cleared her throat and continued, “I have a theory that instead of picturing Barnes’ brain as a whole, imagine it as the parts it is.”

She paused to gauge Stark’s reaction. He bit his lip and continued reading. “Come with me.” He said once finished with the files. He slapped the folder close and moved for the door. He held it open for Pepper and Y/n, and she entered what she assumed was Stark’s warehouse/ research lab. He handed the folder to a floating robot that Stark seemed to talk to like it was human. Once the robot scanned the files, he motioned his arm to bring up an electric, holographic copy of the paper. “Continue.”

Y/n cleared her throat again, “Uh, well, you see, the reason he keeps reverting to his Winter Soldier self is because of the sequence of words: Longing, rusted, furnace, daybreak, seventeen, benign, nine, homecoming, one, and freight car. If you remove the significance of those words, especially in that order, theoretically the Winter Soldier side of him can’t be activated.”

“How do you know about all of this?” Pepper asked.

“How do we do that?” Stark asked at the same time.

Y/n decided to answer Stark’s question first. “Well, Wernicke’s area in the temporal lobe is responsible for understanding language and the parietal lobe interprets language. If you operate on those areas and basically rearrange the wiring, it might make him forget those words and the significance of that sequence.”

“Wouldn’t he theoretically forget how to speak?” Stark questioned. He flipped through the holographic research paper and noted points in her paper.

She nodded, “Yes, most likely he’d have to relearn everything. According to my research, he might remember how to speak English since that was his first language, but it’s not a guarantee.”

“Technically none of this is a guarantee.” Pepper mumbled. Y/n tried to suppress giving her the side eye, but let it show slightly.

Y/n ignored it and continued, “Operating on the temporal lobe would also affect his memory…if we could target the right memories, we could remove the meaning behind those words that trigger him.” Y/n finished and felt utterly proud of herself. It did not go as smooth as she hoped, but she did it.

“We? Ms…” Pepper peered at the name on top of her paper, “Y/n, you shouldn’t even know about this stuff. This is classified information.”

Y/n sighed. She didn’t want to have to name drop, but here she was. “I’m Sam Wilson’s childhood best friend and roommate. He told me all about Bucky, and I researched it in depth. Everyone who has tried to look into this topic has been thinking about Bucky as a whole, not as parts. His whole brain isn’t what’s the problem…those words are.”

They both stared at her. Stark absentmindedly bit his thumb as he thought. Her plans were detailed and her science was sound, it was just the experimentation of it all. He couldn’t attempt a never been done before surgery on Steve’s best friend. He couldn’t be responsible if it didn’t work. His mind was racing with thoughts and he was barely paying attention to the conversation. He heard Y/n say she was best friends with Sam and Steve, that they hadn’t met yet because of poor timing, and that she came up with the idea after a drunken night with Steve.

“Pepper, can you fetch Bruce?” He asked suddenly, knocking Pepper off her momentary soap box. She rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room. Once the doors closed behind her, Stark sighed. “She’s so worried about the politics and logistics. I don’t care how you know this information. I just care about your science.”

He looked Y/n up and down. She looked so nervous and absolutely terrified. It was then that Stark realized he hadn’t said any encouraging words to her yet. He hadn’t said anything to calm her nerves. Y/n was, Stark noticed, a very pretty girl with an obvious brain between her ears. She was of average height, long hair, wide and anxious eyes, and a nervous smile. She was wearing a partially see through top, and Stark could see an arm tattoo poking through. It was typewriter like writing, but Stark couldn’t make out the word.

“What’s your arm tattoo say?”

Y/n yelped slightly and stared down at her arm. “Oh, it uh, says ‘longing’…which I realize is kind of funny now that I’m trying to fix the Winter Soldier whose first trigger word is ‘longing’.” She rubbed the spot on her arm and smiled slightly. The look on Stark’s face told her to continue, “My dad was a writer before he joined the Army. My favorite poem he ever wrote was called ‘Longing’ and he wrote it after his tour. I thought the poem was about love, but after he committed suicide, I realized what it was about. It’s kind of my goodbye to him.”

Stark’s heart sank slightly. He learned so much about Y/n in those few sentences. He felt for her, too because she lost her father, and that was always a hard thing for anyone to face. He cleared his throat. “I’m getting Dr. Banner to review your plans. I think they look pretty solid, but I need another pair of eyes.”

Y/n felt her insides swell. Tony Stark, son of legend Howard Stark, just said her plans looked good! If she were alone, she would have started dancing. “Wait, seriously?” She couldn’t help but say. A wide smile broke across her face. Stark grinned too. She was adorable, for lack of a better word. She reminded him of a girl version of Sam, which would make sense with them being best friends and all.

The doors opened and Bruce Banner entered the room. His hair was an absolute mess, he was wearing a purple button up and gray slacks, and his glasses sat crookedly on his face. His eyes searched the room, stopping only briefly on the holograph projections before laying on Y/n. She stuck her hand out and he shook it firmly as they exchanged introductions.

“Bruce, look through these files.” Stark handed him the physical folder because he preferred paper over electronics. Stark gave him 10 minutes to read over it. Y/n found a chair nearby and pulled up a seat. Stark offered her a drink, and she requested a coffee. She hadn’t had her morning cup yet, and it was catching up to her.

Bruce took off his glasses and bit the end of them when he was finished reading. “It’s sound science…good science at that.” Stark pulled Bruce off to the side and they spoke in hushed whispers. They were talking about the best way to go about the situation. Y/n heard them whisper about rats and test subjects and how to get Bucky to agree. She cleared her throat and the two men turned to her. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I did come up with the idea after all.”

They stared at her for a second, and then Stark broke out laughing. He shrugged his shoulder. “I guess you’re right.” He paused and walked over to Y/n. “What do we need to do next?”

She blinked rapidly, not entirely sure what to say. She hadn’t thought past the interview itself. She guessed that they’d need to get approval from someone to do this research, they’d have to get a team that could work on it together, and they’d have to get something to test the surgery on. And then they’d still have to get Bucky out of the ice and get his approval. She explained this to them, and they agreed. It was set that Tony would file paperwork with the United Nations (per the Sokovia Accords), and then they’d go from there.

“I’ll give you a call when I get word from the U.N. Until then, you should come work here. I could use a brain like yours.” Tony said. She nodded excitedly at the prospect of working at Stark Tower with the Avengers. Tony grinned widely and told Y/n to be back tomorrow.

She left the room, headed to the elevator, and moved down to the floor where Steve said he’d be. She felt absolutely elated. She couldn’t wait to tell Sam, but that also meant telling Steve. She exited the elevator and came face to face with the whole Avengers crew. Wanda and Vision were talking in the corner, Sam and Scott were playing cards (typical), Steve was reading Harry Potter per Y/n’s request, and Natasha and Clint were playing chess. Y/n noted that Thor wasn’t there, though. She chuckled at how…normal they all looked. They stared up at her as the elevator opened.

Sam jumped up from his spot immediately and practically skipped over to her. “How’d it go?”

She beamed up at him and whispered, “Stark’s sending the paperwork to the U.N. to get approval. Until then, he gave me a job working with him!”

Sam yelped and pulled Y/n into a bone crushing hug. “I’m so proud of you!” Sam let her go and turned back to the group. “Guys, this is my best friend Y/n. Y/n, these are the guys.”

Y/n waved nervously as Natasha said, “So you’re the infamous Y/n Steve and Sam keep talking about.” She rose from her seat and shook Y/n’s hand. She smiled warmly. Y/n wished in that moment that she had met Natasha earlier. She seemed like such a nice person.

The rest of the Avengers greeted her as she made her rounds before she made her way over to Steve. He put his book down when she got to him. “By the look on your face, I’d say it’s good news.” He chuckled. Y/n found herself suddenly very nervous.

“Can we go for a walk?” She asked. Steve raised an eyebrow, but nodded nonetheless. She turned back to Sam and told him the plan. He offered to be there, but Y/n knew she needed to tell Steve alone.

They entered the surprisingly empty elevator. Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Y/n cut him off. “Not yet.” Y/n said. He closed his mouth and kept his eyes fixed on the door. Y/n could feel her heart beat in her throat and found herself biting her nails nervously. Steve could sense her unease, and realized he too was growing anxious.

They exited Stark Towers, walked a few blocks east, and came to their favorite coffee shop. This shop was the birthplace of Steve and Y/n’s friendship, and the foreground of several wonderful memories. The most recent memory being the day Steve finally asked Sharon out. Sam and Y/n yelled so loudly that they were almost kicked out.

Today’s news would either bring Steve joy or terror, and both responses scared Y/n. They ordered lattes from the barista and found seats away from everyone else. They sat down and Y/n sighed. She looked around at her surroundings and thought of what to say to him.

“So…how’d your date with Sharon go?”

He laughed, knowing she was stalling. “It was really nice. I picked her up from her apartment, we went to that restaurant you suggested,” Y/n chuckled at that additive, “and then we went for a walk in Central Park. I showed her all of the places that were there when I was a teenager and that are still standing. And then we went back to my place and…”

Y/n squealed, “Steve Rogers you dirty grandpa! I never would have pegged you for a sex on the first date kinda guy!”

Steve sipped his coffee before replying. He couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face. “Well, she’s not your average girl, so I didn’t think what I usually did was the right way to go.” Y/n felt herself blush and her heart swim. She was so happy for Steve.

“I want details.” Steve told her all the nasty, probably too-much-information moments shared between Sharon and Steve last night. She loved that she could have these kinds of conversations with Steve, despite how conservative he usually was about relationship stuff.

Once their moment passed and Y/n was completely caught up on the night before, and Steve assumed Y/n was ready to talk, he cleared his throat, “So, is everything okay?”

Y/n smiled sheepishly. “Yes and no.” She took a deep breath. “So I got a job with Stark to work on a new operation.”

Steve raised his eyebrows and grinned. “That’s incredible! So why the long face?”

She thumbed the side of her warm coffee. “The operation is to basically rewire the parts of the brain that deal with speech while leaving the other parts not tampered with. We’re basically going to remove the meaning behind words and re-teach the patient how to speech, essentially. It’s never been done before and there are a lot of things that could go wrong, and Stark and Banner seem optimistic. But-”

Steve’s face dropped. “But,” he paused, “who’s the patient?”

Y/n hesitated. Steve reached out his hand for hers and squeezed it. She didn’t know whether to build up to the name drop or just go for it. Either way, Steve would have questions.

“It’s Bucky.”

Silence fell over the table. Her gaze fell to the table as Steve retracted his hand from Y/n’s. He left his mouth agape. He frowned. Y/n swallowed the lump in her throat and felt like she was going to cry if Steve didn’t say anything. But Steve was too dumbfounded to speak. Y/n hurried to formulate sentences in her mind to ease the tension growing between them.

“The only way to get him off the ice is to find some way to get rid of his Winter Soldier side. At least that’s what you told me. Since that night, I’ve been thinking of ways to…” She paused, searching for the right word but came up short, “I guess, fix him?” She glanced up at Steve and his expression was unchanged. Y/n reached out her hand this time and spoke to him, not at him. She stared into his eyes as she spoke, “I know how much he means to you. You’ve done so much for me, and all I want to do is repay those favors.”

“And you thought a never been done surgery would do that?” He snapped. Y/n was taken aback. She couldn’t believe his response.

“Steve, you know just as well as I do that the only way to help Bucky is to do things that have never been done before.” She scoffed and crossed her arms. She was thought about what to say next. She didn’t really want to tell him what inspired her to help, but it was the only way to get him to understand. “You told me about him and who he was before he fell off that train, and my heart hurt because of how much you cared about him. I’ve never seen anyone care about someone else so damn much, and if anyone cared about me that much, I’d do whatever it took to get them back. All I want to do is bring him back. After you told me all about him, before and after the Winter Soldier, I changed my major in school so I was better suited to help him. I’ve literally been preparing for this since I graduated from undergrad.” She didn’t mean to say it so viciously, but she felt like Steve doubted her abilities. She also felt embarrassed at her admission. While she had Sam, and Steve cared enough, she never had anyone love her like Steve loved Bucky. It didn’t necessarily make her jealous, but a large part of her wanted someone who would give life and limb for her.

Steve diverted his eyes and bit his lip. He was ashamed that he went off on Y/n the way he did. But he was scared, and he wasn’t sure how to admit that. The thought of getting Bucky back only to have him disappear again was too much to handle. He couldn’t leave his best friend up to chance. He trusted Y/n. He didn’t trust fate.

Steve cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Y/n. “How will it work?”

Y/n stared at Steve and blinked tears from her eyes. She was certain Steve wasn’t going to allow them to go through with it. She explained the possibility of him forgetting how to speak, the way they could change some of his memories, and the likelihood of recovery. She reiterated that Stark’s technology is unlike any in a standard hospital, and that she would not be performing the surgery directly.

“Obviously, this all ultimately hinges on approval from the U.N. and if Bucky says yes.” She finished. They had finished their coffees and almost an hour had passed. Steve was visibly processing her words still, parsing each and every sentence she said. They left the coffee shop and headed back to Stark Towers. They got back on the elevator, which was empty. They hadn’t exchanged words since they left the coffee shop, until they were halfway back to the 60th floor.

“By the way, you do have people who care about you as much as I do about Buck. You got me after all.” Steve whispered to Y/n, and reached out his hand to take hers. They intertwined their fingers, and he squeezed lightly. Steve smiled down at her. She suddenly felt better about everything that had happened.

That night, Sam and Y/n were bundled up on the couch and sharing a cheese pizza. They were watching the latest episode of Game of Thrones when Sam paused the TV. He turned his body to face Y/n and cleared his throat. He gave her a look that said ‘we need to talk’.

“Oh god, why that face?” She asked, throwing down her plate.

Sam held up his hands in mock surrender, “I’m just worried about this whole thing.”

“What whole thing?” Y/n crossed her arms and sat up higher in her seat. She, of course, knew what Sam was referring to, but she wanted to hear him say it.

“The Bucky thing-” Y/n tried to interject, but Sam kept on, “I’m not worried about you at all. I trust you more than my own doctor, who’s a Jewish man in his fifties and has been a doctor for the latter half of his life. I’m worried about Bucky.”

Y/n raised her eyebrow, “Why?”

He laid his head on the arm he had stretched on the back of the couch. “You know why…he’s dangerous, Y/n. People think of him as the bad guy, and I don’t know what he’ll do when he comes out of the ice.”

Y/n reached out and grabbed his hand. She squeezed lightly. “A risk I’m willing to take.”

A week had passed, and Y/n was now officially a Stark Industries employee (paperwork took longer to process than expected). She returned to Stark Towers with Sam, just like Stark had instructed. It was a little after ten when they arrived. It was later than usual, but since they worked on their own schedules, it wasn’t a big deal. She waited on the 60th floor with the rest of the Avengers until Stark came and got her. She talked to Steve about his night with Sharon, and they tiptoed around the one conversation they really wanted to have. Sam could feel the awkward tension. He ignored it though, chalked it up to misinterpretation.

The Avengers talked about their nights as they all settled in for the day. Sam and Y/n saw the new Wonder Woman movie, Steve went on his date, and Scott got to see his daughter for a while. The rest of them reported nothing interesting, so they spent the time talking about Wonder Woman and how badass she was.

A voice spoke over the PA for Y/n to come to Stark’s office. The group oh’d like kids in a classroom, and one of them just got called to the principal’s office. Y/n rolled her eyes, bid ado, and headed to her first day at her new job.

As soon as she exited the elevator, Stark greeted her. He handed her a folder immediately. He turned to walk away, and Y/n followed closely. “Your file…while I prefer electronic everything, we kept paperback-ups. I didn’t put your name on it because didn’t know your title.” He explained.

Y/n smiled down at her manila envelope and opened it. Inside were standard documents like her birth certificate, resume, and photo copies of her license. “Oh, it’s Doctor Y/n Y/l/n.”

Stark stopped in his tracks. “Why didn’t you correct me when I called you ‘Ms.’?”

She laughed lightly. She got that question so often. “It’s just a title-”

“A title that you worked on for years.” Stark cut her off, and laughed. Y/n shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t go to medical school for a title; she went to help people.

Stark continued to walk and show Y/n around the office. He pointed to a room that was his office and told her to go there whenever she needed anything. He then informed her that her personal office was on the 61st floor, right next to Bruce’s office. Stark handed her an I.D. badge to use for all the doors she would need access to.

They reached the lab, and Y/n noticed that it was messier than last time. Bruce was already there too, sitting at the table and reading over a letter.

“As fun as it’s been showing you around, we need to get down to business.” Stark said, clapping his hands together as he did so. Bruce handed her the paper. At the top was the United Nation’s logo. Y/n glanced up at Stark and Bruce expectantly, and then hurriedly read over the paper.

“We have granted permission for your team to pursue this research on the condition that no other humans are given the treatment until further approval.” She read aloud. Her heart was beating so loudly in her ears, she felt like she was screaming. They got approval! She squealed then looked back up at the two men. “I’m gonna give myself ten seconds to celebrate, so cover your ears.”

They plugged their ears with their fingers and Stark held up his watch to count the seconds. Their fingers in their ears did nothing to block out Y/n’s piercing screams. She danced in her spot, and jumped up and down. As soon as Stark signaled that her ten seconds were up, she shut her mouth and stopped jumping, but couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. Bruce and Stark grinned widely, too.

“So what do we do next?” She asked. She drummed her hands on the table in excitement.

“We wake Bucky up.” Stark replied.

Good feeling gone.

“Already?” She questioned nervously. She knew this day would come, but did not anticipate it being today.

Stark shrugged, “No point in doing anything else if he says no.”

Y/n thought for a moment and absentmindedly thumbed her necklace. She cleared her throat and nodded, “I’ll go get Steve.”

Steve tapped his foot nervously. He bit his thumbnail and exhaled loudly. Y/n glanced up at him, wrapped her arm through his crossed ones, and squeezed his forearm. They stood with their arms interlocked as Stark’s team of scientists rushed around the room to prepare for Bucky’s ‘unthawing’.

They stood in an open room with white ceilings and floors. The doctors wore white lab coats and they walked around with white clipboards and white glasses. Y/n noted how sterile everything seemed, and how unease it all made her. She was nervous for obvious reasons, but the severity and rigidness of the room, which was so unlike the rest of Stark Towers, was the number one cause for concern.

They wheeled Bucky’s sleeping chamber out onto the main floor where Steve and Y/n waited. Steve’s breath hitched in his throat upon laying his eyes on Bucky’s cryogenically frozen body. Y/n felt her heart stop too. She heard the stories, saw the news, but seeing him in person was something completely different. Seeing his closed eyes, his peaceful face, and his non-ageing body in person was unreal. She even felt a little guilty for thinking he was attractive.

Stark turned back to Steve and Y/n. “Ready?”

Y/n nodded and Stark dipped his head slightly. Steve wasn’t really ready, but he was as ready as he was ever going to be. On the bright side, he’d have his best friend again, but at what cost? Stark moved his attention back to the control panel in front of him. He twisted and flipped some buttons, and with a lot less pomp and circumstance than Y/n imagined, the machine hissed with the sound of thawing ice. The latch on the door turned as the door moved to open itself, exposing Bucky’s body to the fresh air.

As the ice thawed and the hissing grew quieter, time seemed to stop. They all waited in anticipation for that moment when Bucky would take his first breath and he’d open his eyes. And as much as Y/n wanted to watch this moment happen, she couldn’t help but watch her best friend instead. She knew this whole thing was taking a toll on Steve, and he was being such a good sport about it all, but being in the moment was something completely new. Y/n watched Steve’s heartbroken eyes as she heard Bucky’s first inhale. Steve squeezed her hand tighter, and he seemed to start shaking under her touch.

It was when Bucky started coughing loudly that Y/n turned her attention to him. He sat up in his seat so he could see; his flesh hand covered his mouth as he coughed. He eyed the room around him, but calmed down when he recognized his surroundings and most importantly, recognized Steve. His eyes seemed to soften at the sight of his best friend. “Steve…” Bucky whispered. Steve unwrapped himself from Y/n and ran over to Bucky. He sat up in the chamber and wrapped Steve in a tight hug.

“How long was I under?” Bucky asked Steve. Y/n traded a glance with Tony and noticed his rigid stance and nervous expression. The air was tense, and Y/n didn’t know which side of the tension she belonged on.

“A little over two years.” They separated and a man brought Bucky a black t-shirt and gray sweatpants to change into. Bucky hurriedly pulled the shirt over his bare chest and the sweatpants over his boxers. Steve helped him out of the chamber. Bucky wavered slightly, as he wasn’t used to using his legs. He wrapped his metal arm over Steve’s shoulders, and Steve wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist.

“Why am I back? Did you find a way to fix me?” Y/n’s heart sank at Bucky’s phrasing. He was scared of himself, and Y/n couldn’t imagine what that must be like.

“We think we did.” Steve replied. He motioned back to Y/n, who stood awkwardly in the background with a clipboard and nervous expression. Steve moved Bucky over to her. She put out her hand for him to shake; his touch was cold, but his skin was soft. Y/n’s cheeks reddened and her stomach twisted.

“This is Dr. Y/n Y/l/n: genius, comedian, beauty, and your savior.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and smiled. “Genius is a bit much, but the rest is pretty accurate.” That made Bucky chuckle and Y/n felt slightly better.

“Ah, a Brooklyn gal?” He joked. Bucky studied Y/n from her black boots up to her eager eyes and kind smile. Her homely presence and gentle touch gave Bucky a weird sense of calmness. Bucky noted her awkward cuteness, and grinned.

“Born and raised. Steve and I actually met each other in Brooklyn one day when Sam came to visit my family in Brooklyn.” She traded a glance with Steve, “Anyways, it’s wonderful to meet you. Steve’s told me all about you.”

“Y/n’s been working on a new operation with Stark and Banner.” Steve added.

Bucky did not take his eyes off of Y/n. “What you got for me, Doll?” He asked Y/n, adding a wink at the end for good measure. Y/n remembered Steve telling her that his catchphrase was ‘doll’. She was glad to see that that hadn’t changed.

She laughed, “Well it’s a lot actually. Why don’t we move somewhere more comfortable?” She turned to Tony and nodded at him to follow. Steve, Bucky, Tony, and Y/n moved toward the elevator to head to the top floor. On the elevator, Bucky and Steve chatted the whole way up. Bucky asked about girls, and Y/n was prepared to hear his rant about Sharon that Y/n got months ago, but came up short. He gave a short ‘no’ and Y/n laughed.

The boys turned to her. Bucky leaned against the elevator wall and eyed her. He knew Steve wasn’t being completely honest with him, and Y/n’s laugh gave that away. But he didn’t press the issue; he’d only been out of the ice for five minutes, no point in pissing people off. “What about you, Y/n? You got anybody?”

“I live with Sam. That’s enough to keep anyone from settling down.” She said, making Bucky chuckle again. She told him about how she knew Sam since elementary school, how they’ve been best friends since middle school, and how they’ve been living together since her senior year of high school (really since her dad died, but she wasn’t about to share that).

The elevator reached their designated floor, and everyone filed out one by one. Steve grabbed Y/n’s arm to hold her back as Bucky and Tony moved to the lab.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n questioned, worry lacing her words. Steve waited until they were completely out of ear shot.

“I’m worried about him.”

“What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms, “He hasn’t acted like this since before he fell. I’m afraid that the honeymoon will pass and he’ll snap.”

Y/n reached out and rubbed his bicep. She sighed- she totally understood his fear, but the constant comments from Sam and Steve about Bucky being ‘dangerous’ were starting to piss her off. She swallowed her annoyance and paid attention to her friend. He was so worried about his best friend. Y/n wasn’t completely sure what to say to qualm his anxiety. She grabbed his arm, pulled him into a hug, wrapped her arm around his waist, and squeezed. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and squeezed too. Y/n sighed again. She loved his hugs.

“I know you’re worried. But give him time- give us time. We’ll get him back to the old him.”

They separated and Steve placed a light kiss on her forehead. “I trust you.”

Y/n grinned, “I know. Now, let’s go convince him.”

They walked into the room, and Bucky and Tony were not speaking, which they expected. Bucky was tinkering with a piece of technology that he shouldn’t have been touching and Tony was off in the distance, preparing for their meeting. Y/n noticed Bruce in the corner peering over a computer screen.

“He’s been touching stuff since he got in here.” Bruce said, pointing over to Bucky.

Steve scoffed, “Well he’s a person, not a dog.” Bruce smiled sarcastically. Y/n sat her stuff down on the table and moved over to Bucky. He reached out to touch a laser pointer that definitely would have severed a finger if he’d gotten any closer.

“Don’t touch that.” Y/n yelped. She grabbed his hand and pulled it away from the machine. “If you want to keep what fingers you have left I mean.” She explained at his confused face. She smiled, hoping he’d laugh at her feeble attempt at a joke; he did, wide and unapologetic. She thought it was curious that he seemed so jovial when everyone kept telling her he was the opposite.

He stared at the equipment in front of him, and Y/n stared at him. “Bucky, Y/n.” Steve said. They turned to him sitting at the table, Tony and Bruce patiently waiting. Tony had a file prepared for Bucky and sat it in front of him. Y/n stood at the head of the table with Tony. She suddenly felt super nervous again.

Tony pulled up some of the holographic images again. The first image was a picture of Bucky’s brain, with the temporal lobe highlighted. Y/n cleared her throat and looked at Bucky, “So I’m gonna start off by saying that I came up with these ideas, but I won’t actually be performing the surgery.” She chuckled. Bucky did not react, but she expected that much.

She went through the surgery process, what to expect, how he might forget how to speak for a while, and how Tony and Bruce knew what they were doing. Y/n felt Bucky’s apprehension rise. Tony was going on some tangent about the surgery, when Y/n held up a hand to cut him off.

“What questions do you have?” She asked Bucky at his confused face. His eyes crinkled in the corners as he smiled, and Y/n’s heart swelled slightly.

He forced a laugh, “I guess I just don’t understand how a surgery’s gonna fix everything.”

“To be completely honest, it won’t. Part of the treatment is doing therapy a few times a week…with me.” Steve’s eyes widened a bit, he didn’t know about this part, “Part of what we will do is figure out the meaning behind your trigger words, and try to help you heal from the trauma you’ve experienced. Bucky,” She spread her hands on the table and leaned forward to talk directly to him, “you’ve been through a shit ton-”

Tony held his hand up to stop her, “The idea being that to cope with these issues, you need to talk about these issues.”

Y/n shrugged and tugged at the end of her sleeves. Bucky assumed it was a nervous tick of hers. “What I was going to say, but more eloquent.” Bucky thumbed through the papers in the folder, reading over the fine print and scientific jargon to see if he could understand the operation more. “You don’t have to make a decision today. Read over the file tonight, we’ll answer any remaining questions in the morning, and then we can go from there.” Y/n responded, rubbing her hands together and trading glances with the men in the room.

Steve sat forward in his seat and clasped his hands together on the table. “I’ll show Bucky where his room his. We’ll just meet in the morning.”

They all agreed and parted ways. Bucky, head buried in the file, walked with Steve to the elevator to go to the 50th floor where Bucky would be staying. Steve requested that Tony prepare the room next to Bucky’s for himself; that way he could be close to Bucky in the off chance something happened. Y/n finished up some last minute work with Tony and Bruce before retiring to the 60th floor to pick Sam up.

“How’s my favorite scientist?” Sam asked upon seeing Y/n.

“Stark’s upstairs.” She sarcastically replied. She grabbed the coat from Sam’s outstretched hand and threw it over her shoulders. She sighed loudly as she did so.

“Rough day?”

She nodded, “I don’t know who’s stressing me out more, Bucky or Steve.”

#marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fan fiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers #sam wilson #scott lang #marvel imagines #marvel fan fic #bruce banner #tony stark #post civil war #marvel au #bucky barnes au #slowburn #very slowburn

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castawxayaway · 7 years ago

Text

World Gone Mad

so, hi. it’s actually been almost a month I think since I last wrote anything and published it. behind the scenes, I’ve started new pieces and not really had it to continue them which is so unlike me. but, bastille released a new song, and a video to go with it and likewise with glory I asked if anyone would like something written based on world gone mad. so, here it is. I’ll let you know now that I don’t fully understand what the movie ‘Bright’ is about, so I just kinda went based on the video and on my own ideas.

(I hope you like it and enjoy, I’m not sure when I’ll post next as I am a ball of stress thanks, uni) (and currently, want a three hour conversation about dan smith being a boyfriend)

it’s a week late since the video went up but i’ve been a busy bee and I can finally finish it and publish yay

collection of writing

Running aimlessly I scream his name, the chaos only growing as everyone heads in different directions. No one knows where is safe anymore, where we can hide until it’s over, if it’ll ever be over. I force down the lump that grows in my throat, the suffocating weight that crushes my chest as I move forward refusing to give up or give in until I’ve found him.

I over analyse everyone. Those who run in fear, and those who are the ones responsible. I just wish I knew which he was, as I question his previous intentions. Coughing heavily I pause to try and catch my breath as dust coats my clothes, once pristine and treasured, now destroyed in the riots that have been occurring these past few days. It no longer matters how many they arrest, I don’t think it’ll be good enough anymore.

A cloud of smoke forms behind me, my hearing now gone and replaced with a high pitch whirring sound. My feet pick up the pace and charge straight ahead towards the square. I continue to swallow the painful lump, the choke that I try to conceal from those smart enough to wear masks whilst I allow myself to remain fully exposed. Dust clings to every fibre in my mouth, making it even drier and harder to speak.

Slowing down I reach the square, my chest rises and falls frantically along with the beating of my heart. I take each step carefully as I rest on the remains of a statue, whatever one this once resembled now nothing more than stone, back to its original appearance. As I sit there I check my arms, my legs and torso for any signs of blood, whether it be my own or someone else's.

Across my right leg, the black fabric has been slashed, the cut from the glass only worsening as I remain resilient in my search for him. The bruise on my eye and the scars that have formed on my chest throb lightly, now nothing more than a dull ache. I glance around at the square, how only a few months ago this was a civilised place, this was his home. I hoped one day it would be our home as we used to walk across this space, watch the children squeal and laugh in the fountain. But now the fountain is a pile of rubble, the laughter a faint memory as screams remain apparent instead. Forcing myself up I wince, I decide to head East where I know it’s quieter for the meantime. Maybe he’s gone that way, he could be hiding, and if he is then I’ll be ready.

I watch as some pass me by, each of us has mutual respect and boundaries. We are all on the same side, for now, that is. Our weapons remain hidden, the shard of glass that cut me is in my pocket, wrapped in cloth and still stained with my own blood. He was the one who told me to do this, to flee as he warned me something could happen to him. I wish he specified what, as now the curiosity has plagued my mind as I search for him.

A whole month of this life, of trying to survive as they tear the city apart. An entire month of getting by, seeing some get taken away or beaten on the streets. Of seeing others rebel and blow up the buildings I once admired, constantly thinking back to the times I explored them with him by my side. It’s been a month of worry looming in the back of my mind, hoping he’s alright.

With hesitation I walk down to an alleyway to check my phone, the cracked screen mainly useless, but I keep it just in case he calls, that and to check the time since the bell tower is no more. 3:49pm. Looking up the sun remains high, hidden away from the clouds in fear like many who peer out of broken buildings as sirens wail around the city.

Turning the corner my eyes glance at the broken cars, the ones that have been smashed into or crunched into themselves. The scene doesn’t affect me anymore, it’s as if I’ve become immune to the outbreak, yet I can’t help but look a bit longer at the police car.

It was upside down, wheels still spinning as smoke pours out of it, a wheel discarded nearby not far from my view. Slowly I move closer, trying to get a better look at the bloody hand hangs lifelessly out of the shattered window. The lights flicker slower and slower, my shoes crunch under the broken glass, but I stand back as I see a hand grasp out onto the concrete from the back of the vehicle.

Reaching into my pocket I grasp onto the glass shard, holding it tightly as I wait to see the traitor come out of the crushed car. Slowly I watch as more arm appears, whoever it is can’t see me from this angle, I’m concealed to them and their priority will be escaping, to not get caught again. I take a few steps closer, being careful to not make too much noise as the siren wails in pain, the sound becoming more haunting each second. More body appears but his face is concealed, I squint my eyes as his arm is wrapped around his front. All I can see is his black jacket and jeans that have been slashed.

Something about them intrigues me, never before have I been this close to one of them, a traitor. Around his wrist the cuffs hang, one secured to his wrist and the other free, just waiting to be taken care of. I watch as his arm reaches up, sweeping back a mess of dark brown hair and I pause, my calm heartbeat suddenly intensifying. I release my tight hold on my makeshift weapon and move with a bit more speed.

I’m so close to him, but it couldn’t be, could it? Biting my lip back I fear to call him, exposing him or notifying others that hide in the surroundings. If they see someone with handcuffs on, it won’t take long to put the pieces together. Instead, I lower my head, I nudge past him and I’m unable to ignore the feeling.

Turning back I pause, my heart dropping as it hangs onto the few strings of hope that remain. I go to say something, but no words form. His face is beaten, cut and stained with his own dried blood. Down is forehead he can’t conceal the pain that throbs from the slash, the deep cut across his nose and the blood that poured from underneath it. “What’re you covering?” The words come out harsh as I motion to his stomach. With no hesitation, he lowers his arm, his once white top marked with his weeks of hiding, of being hunted and ripped, but not bleeding.

I let out a short sigh of relief as I avoid his gaze. He mutters my name quietly as I look around us, picking at every angle they could be watching us from, watching him from. “Please,” A small plea as I feel cool metal brush my wrist, I defensively pull back and continue to walk, noticing him slip his cuffed wrist into his pocket.

We both walk, further along, another fire sounds behind us. Smoke and dust cloud together, too many people run towards us, too many for us to get out of this stampede safely. He grabs my hand and pulls me to the side, down a small alleyway. Breathing heavily our bodies touch, the small space slimmer than it appeared. I watch them as they run, as they cough. Some help others, carrying them in teams as they cry in pain or are hanging lifelessly in their arms.

His breath remains heavy against my neck as I remain too afraid to face him this closely. The feelings I’ve longed for since this started have been shattered now I’ve found him, this is not what I anticipated happening. “Let me explain.” He speaks quietly, his face titled downwards as I watch the crowds thin until it’s nothing more than those who are too slow, the ones who won’t last until tomorrow at the latest.

As they limp, clutching to their seeped tops frustration rises in my body. “What? You going to tell me how you let all this happen?” Anger replaces my loving tone towards him as he avoids my gaze now, rather than the other way round. “Do you know how long I’ve been searching for you? I have not stopped looking for you, I knew in my heart that you wouldn’t betray everyone you loved.” Looking him up and down he lifts his head. His icy blue eyes standing out in pain, I lock mine with his. “Looks like I was wrong.” I mutter and tear my eyes from his.

“I can explain.” He retorts, holding onto my shoulder to stop me from looking out too far. Raising an eyebrow at him he sighs into my lips, the distance between us not helping. “When I lost you, after that explosion, I was taken by them. They forced me into it, saying they’ll find those I care about and kill them one by one. I, I had no choice.” He shakes his beaten face, his hair falls covering the surface damage temporarily. “If, if anything had happened to you,” I focus back on his eyes, they soften slightly, the emotion rises to the surface. The version of him I knew returning.

My hand reaches up to his cheek, the one free of any recent damage, but he squirms for a split second. “But I’m here. So you didn’t betray us?” I ask, trying to hold back the lump that paused itself, but now is back on play.

He shook his head. “Never.” His eyes searched mine, ignoring the blurriness that formed across them. I felt his hand on top of mine as it rested on his cheek, “I love you too much to ever do such a thing.” I sniff quietly.

“After all this time I was so worried, I thought you might’ve been dead.” I whimper, but sniff forcefully and straighten up, I can’t afford to do this now. “But now what?” I swallow the lump and take my hand from his cheek, using it to wipe the dust and tears that solidify on my face.

He lowers his head again, something he does when he knows I’ll take it hard, whatever he has to say will hurt. I shake my head repeatedly, not wanting him to say what I think he’ll suggest. “I’ll have to turn myself in.” The words that break my heart.

We’ve all heard the rumours about what happens to the traitors. What happens once they have you. I continue to shake my head, “You can’t.” Holding his hands tightly I let the tears fall, every emotion floods my system after being on lockdown for a month. “I’ll never get you back.”

His dirty fingertips wipe my eyes as fresh tears fall, replacing the last. “If it’ll keep you any bit safer it’s worth a try.” He chokes a laugh and glides his hand along my neck revealing the one thing I held dear throughout all of this. I watch the absent smile return, the ring attached to the chain still fairly clean but missing from my finger. “We had it all planned.” I laugh at his comment, how useless it all is now.

“A future,” I smile to him, “what a thought that is, right?” He reciprocates the smile, through the pain that lines his face I can see a glint of hope. “Together through it all as you said to me, right?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but it hangs as he zones into the sound of the click from his side. Lifting his arm up mine follows, his eyes go wide and fear melts the hope in the deep blue. “What did you just do.” Sincerity and worry line his tone as I let the tears fall.

“Together through it all, Dan. Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.” He remains speechless as the sirens sound. His hand intertwines with mine, and he backs away, further down the alleyway until it becomes wider, more open.

The further we go the more deserted the space seems. He reaches up and snags the necklace, discarding the chain and holds the ring in his fingertips. “If we’re going to do this,” He slips the ring onto my finger, “then we do it properly.” Looking at the ring I remember the night he gave it to me, the happiness we shared in that moment, a sense of euphoria. We planned it all, I had my dress that he’ll never see me in. Instead, we stand hand in hand covered in dust and stale blood, marked with the pity of what we never got.

“I love you.” I whisper as the sirens come closer, our time running out.

Moving closer the space between us is gone, his lips hover over mine. “I love you too, whatever happens I love you.” His lips kiss mine with so much force, intertwined with tears and the metallic drops from his nose, but neither of us care. If this is goodbye, then we might as well make it worthwhile.

Unaware of his hand slipping into my pocket I feel something loosens. “Dan?” I pull away and the siren comes to a holt.

Pulling back from me I notice the cuff is gone from my wrist, we’re no longer attached. My eyes widen with fear, he kisses me one last time, muttering into my lips, “I love you. You’ll see me soon, I promise.” Before I have the opportunity to scream after him he faces the police, the crowd that surrounds behind the barricades. They all shout, but I can’t hear a single thing.

I watch as he lifts his arms up behind his head, following their commands as guns focus on his head. He turns to look at me, a single nod as I continue to sob. They move closer towards him, I watch all those around sneer, spit and swear at him as they hold the gun to his forehead.

My eyes close tightly as I hear the bang and the cheers. I move away, tears blind me as I run, stumble to a rock and lie there admiring the ring through the blur. “I’ll see you soon Dan,” Reaching into my pocket I feel the shard. “I promise.”

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smiley-stark · 8 years ago

Text

I’m a Mess

Bucky Barnes Song Imagine

(I got this idea today while doing some cleaning. Many songs came on but the minute this one came through the speakers, I thought of Bucky. Please enjoy!)

warnings: probably (?) some language, but mainly just some fluffy, angsty Bucky! *not my gif*

a/n: i wrote this and it took a long time, due to some family emergencies I cannot edit it right now, I’m really sorry. please leave feedback, thank you!!

oh, I’m a mess right now, inside out searching for a sweet surrender but this is not the end I cant work it out, how? going through the motions, going through us. and oh, I’ve known it for the longest time all of my hopes, all of my words, are all over written on the signs when you’re on my road walking me home

After returning from HYDRA, Bucky experienced many obstacles. Learning to trust himself, learning to trust others. Never could he imagine that while learning to love himself, he would fall for you. After many months of learning and growing together, he let his guard down and allowed you in.

Of course this was stressful for the both of you. Both of you had been broken down. Both of you had to be built back up. Bucky, although it was difficult, loved you endlessly. Your laugh, your smile, your personality.

Of course you fell for him and as time went by, you learned to love the good and the bad that came with Bucky. He had night terrors almost every night. Some nights he would he would wake you, even though you stayed in a different room. Eventually, you learned how to clean up the mess HYDRA had left in Bucky, learning how to love that part of him, too.

See the flames inside my eyes? It burns so bright I want to feel your love. Easy baby, maybe I’m alive, but for tonight I want to fall in love put your faith in my stomach

Being a part of the Avengers was a blessing and a curse. Though you got to be close to Bucky and make friends, your powers weren’t exactly something you were proud of. You hid them until it was absolutely necessary. Not only did they make you feel like a monster, but in someways they made you look like one.

Steve let a soft laugh escape his lips as he walked into the training room with your small group. Today you’d be training with Sam, Steve, Bucky, and Clint. Thankfully. You couldn’t stand the thought of training with Natasha and Wanda, they were both so beautiful. Their abilities were amazing and you never once doubted how strong the were.

“Alright, who wants to go first?” Steve asked, turning to face the group. Of course, Sam volunteered to ‘get it over with’.

You sat back with the other guys and watched Sam go. There were two trials on this training day.

Sparring being the first and fighting in Tony’s new virtual system being the second. Today was the first time the whole team would be able to test the new technology.

After Sam (successfully) finished his trials, it was your turn.

“Let’s go, (y/l/n)! Hop up in here and show us what ya got, kid!” Steve encouraged while you fought an exaggerated eye roll.

Stepping onto the mat, Steve stood across from you.

“Ready?” He asked once you had pulled your gloves off, ready to spar.

“As I’ll ever be.” You responded, bending at the knees as the timer counted down. “How many falls?”

“I’ll go easy on you and say one.” Steve quipped, instantly making you angry.

The timer went off and he ran at you. Coolly, you stood straight up, awaiting his attack. A split second before his body crashed into yours, you slid to the side.

He chuckled, tossing a punch your way. The two of you battled it out for a good 5 minutes before you finally had a solid chance at winning. Grasping under his arm, you swung him over your head, almost throwing him off of the mat, hearing Bucky and Sam cheer. You landed elbow first and pinned him down, winning the session.

Standing in the generator, you took the opponents on with just your fists, trying not to use your power.

“You do know you can use your power, right?” Sam called into the room. “You’re lucky, you know? I don’t get one of those.”

again, you were angry.

You tossed your gloves to the side again, balling your fists in anger and tilting your head down. Your hands and hair ignited instantly, fire engulfing your peripheral vision and taking over your mind as you marched forward. You took every opponent down in a matter of seconds, burning the room’s synthetic walls to a crisp.

When the session ended, you fell to your knees, hair finally returning to its previous state. This was the first time Bucky had seen your power and he stood at the threshold with his mouth wide open.

Turning, you saw his reaction, immediately grabbing your gloves and running out of the room, ignoring his yells.

He burst into your room, right behind you.

“You’re amazing” he muttered, taking your hands in his and kissing them.

“I’m a monster.” You stated firmly, ripping your hands from his grip. You immediately regretted your choice of words, seeing Bucky clench his jaw. He grabbed your face in the most gentle yet urgent way you could imagine.

“You take that back right now.”

“Bucky, I-”

“I love you. I love you. I love your powers. I love you.” He whispered, looking at the ground. “If you could learn to love me... If you can believe I’m truly good... Why can’t you understand that you’re amazing?” He asked, sadness and worry pouring with every word.

“Bucky, I love you too. So much.” You whispered, caressing his cheek with your thumb.

“Then do me a favor. Let me love you, Trust me. You fixed me. Let me help you.” He said, tone serious. His eyes never left yours as he waited for your reply.

“I will. Just don’t leave me tonight, please.” You whispered, knowing you needed his comfort.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

I messed up this time, late last night drinking to suppress devotion with fingers intertwined I can’t shake this feeling now going through the motions hoping you’d stop

Coming home after a long mission was always exciting, especially when your return would be a surprise. You had just gotten word that you would be returning around 11 pm this evening. The mission was only you, Tony, and Natasha. The three of you had been gone for a little over a month with no communication for safety reasons.

When you were less than an hour from the tower, you texted Steve.

‘hey, we’ll be back soon! missed ya. would you let me know where bucky is in a bit? i wanna surprise him!’ you pressed send, smiling at how the message was read within seconds.

‘yay! can’t wait to see you guys again. Buck has been moping around since the day you left! but i’ll let you know where he is when you guys are close.’ He responded, followed by a string of emojis. You chuckled and sent back a smiley face and a thumbs up, knowing it would make your dear friend happy.

About thirty minutes passed before your phone went off again.

‘(Y/N)? i think something’s wrong with Bucky. He left and wouldn’t stay to hear me out??’. The message sent a shock down your spine.

‘Hm... if you can track him, I’ll surprise him wherever he goes? Maybe he just needs some comfort. You know how hard it is for him to sleep and relax on his own...’. You sent the message, twiddling your thumbs while you waited for his response.

‘Sure thing!’.

‘Landing in a moment, send me those coordinates, Rogers!’.

A small map appeared on the screen, clicking on it revealed that he was at a bar on the edge of town. You couldn’t help the sigh that slipped out of your mouth, causing Natasha to look over.

“Bucky?” She asked, clearly seeing through the situation.

“Yep.”

“Go, I’ll take your bags for you.” She smiled.

“No, I can’t make you-”

“(Y/n). Go.” She said again, insisting. You nodded in response and left immediately from the jet, hopping into one of Tony’s many cars and going straight to the pub.

Walking in your heart sank. There he was. Eyes tired and cast down , body fatigued, drink in hand. His hair was oily and stuck down, covering his face. His under eyes were dark and signaled a lack of sleep. You looked over, seeing an extremely pretty girl trying to get his attention. You decided to stay back and see where he would take it.

The two of them spoke, his eyes not leaving the bar’s counter top. After a moment, she wrapped her arms around his arm and slid her hand up to his, intertwining their fingers. He stayed staring forward, holding the one sided affection for a moment before shaking her off and standing.

His eyes went towards the door, gaze falling on you. He immediately approached your now questioning figure, hugging you tightly. You were going to get mad. Until you felt the wetness of tears on your shoulder, that is. You stepped outside, wiping his tears and walking to the car with him.

The car ride was silent. The walk to the tower was silent. You waited until you were behind closed doors and so did he.

“Baby, I missed you so much. Please understand that I’ve never seen that woman before just now, and I couldn’t even think about what she was saying to me because I was too taken over by you.” He said, ton serious and obviously sincere.

“Are you alright?” You asked, running a thumb over his lower lip, placing a kiss over the spot you had just touched. He pulled you to his chest again, and you felt his body shake with sobs.

“Honey, I missed you more than I thought possible. I can’t sleep. I can hardly eat. Not knowing that you’re okay. Oh God-” His body shook even more at the thought of losing you.

“Hey! Hey its okay Bucky. I’m back. I’m here. Safe in your arms. I love you.” You whispered calming him down and rubbing his back.

“I love you.” He said, eyes meeting yours moments before his lips did. You relaxed into the kiss, trying to rid yourselves of any personal space.

For how long, long I love my lover And I feel love I feel it all over now

Sitting on the sofa in your shared room, you waited for Bucky to finish in the shower. After a moment of flipping through the TV channels, you gave up and turned it off, sitting back further into your seat. Looking around the small room, a sudden realization washed over you,

You were in love. With Bucky. And he loved you.

You had started a life together, living together, working together. You clicked so well. You fit in his arms, as cliche as it is, perfectly. You made him feel like HYDRA was worth it. You made him believe in fate, and he made you believe in true love. Seeing him exit the bathroom, towel around his waist and a hand towel drying his hair, you couldn’t help blurting it out.

“I love you, James”

“And I love you (y/n). So much.” He said, the sparkle in his eyes glinted as it always did when he told you he loved you.

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mrsmercyjevans · 8 years ago

Text

Two Becomes One. [Part 1]

INVOLVED: Mercedes Jones-Evans, Samuel Evans, & Co. TIME FRAME: Flashback, 2008. LOCATION: Venue; Miami, Florida. NOTES: Samuel and Mercedes Wedding.

Reading each line in its entirety Mercedes fumbled with the piece of paper she wrote her vows on. She sighed softly before she looked at herself in the mirror. She couldn’t believe she was really marrying Sam. It wasn’t far fetched and she always knew she’d end up with him but the thought finally settling in, in all its glory had her nearly petrified. She had read these lines over and over and over again. She was nervous she was going to forget them and she had been so far. Looking back down to the paper she bounced her bare feet against the flooring, tuning out the other women as they moved about the room getting dressed. Mercedes’ hair was done, her makeup was done, she was draped in all her many diamonds. Yet she almost refused to put on anything else until she remembered more than half of what she wrote. After a few moments one of her sisters, Sabrina, appeared behind her “its okay if you don’t remember you know I will have it with me” she told her gently massaging her shoulders. “I know” Mercedes sighed exasperatedly. “Then calm your butt down” Sabrina said poking her sides before she walked away again. “Are you okay over here?” Jackie asked walking up behind the girl next and Mercedes nodded. “Sure you wanna do this? Sure you are ready?” She asked her. Mercedes gave her a knowing look through the mirror. “That’s not ever comforting” she told her and Jackie sighed “you know what I mean” she told her as she sat down beside her. “I do and that’s why I am asking you to stop. That phase of my life is over. It was just that a phase and I love Sam despite what people think. End of discussion. We won’t ever talk about this again” Mercedes warned and Jackie nodded gesturing a zipped lip, she stood up and moved to walk off from her completely.

Legs crossed at the ankle, Samuel sat outside with only his thoughts. The winter dream of a wedding was set. There was nothing left to do but wait, or go over his vows. He unrolled the paper crumpled with wear and too long spent moving from pocket to pocket. Holding it up to the sun, he smirked. The only words printed on the entire yellow legal page were, 'Remembering to write your vows. Love you’re soon to be wife.’ Well, she should have known better. He re-folded the paper and tucked it back into his pocket. Inhaling, he watched as the bus boys took their last minute smoke break, he supposed to relax. The thought served to highlight how calm he was. By all accounts on big days in his life, he was scared shitless. But not today. All three times he started in his first football games: high school, college, and pro - he was nervous. When he was drafted, he sweated through two shirts. However, today, marrying the girl of his dreams he wasn’t nervous a bit. “There you are? What on earth are you doing out here all alone? I had your father looking for you everywhere.” Sarah Evans said her strong southern accents, heavier to him after years away from his hometown. She walked over to her middle son, hand moving directly to his collar. “There is no harm in backing out.” She said in a light tone that was meant to be sarcastic, but that seem to lose its bite on its way past her teeth. “Oh I’m only joking.” She smiled. “It’s normal to be scared on a day like this…” Sam drew his mother’s hand away from his collar, holding them in his. “I’m not nervous” he told her, and she knew it was the truth because his hands were as steady as a rock. “I don’t have any reason to be.” He shrugged, “I’m one hundred percent certain I’m marrying the perfect woman.” Sam smiled a glint of mischief in his eye. “She’s the one that has to worry, she is marrying a fool.” He stood still holding his mother's hand. "Come on, let's get me hitched." He told his mother, her face a mask of stunned silence.

Mercedes sighed heavily, coming to the realization that she wasn’t going to remember all of this. She didn’t know why she was so nervous; this was the exact day she had been dreaming of for her whole life. Well part of it, mostly. She wondered if Samuel was as nervous as she was. She had these vows remembered and could recite them effortlessly months ago and now today. They were gone, they had left her far behind in the midst of all the chaos and busy bodies working to make this day as magical as she hoped it to be. Mercedes inhaled closing her eyes and she exhaled slowly. “Okay” she told herself as she folded the piece paper back up. She opened her eyes again looking at herself in the mirror one final time before she moved to stand up. “Okay, I can put the dress on now” she announced. “Yay” Caitlyn said happily as the sister to Mercedes moved to grab the dress along with Sabrina and the two took it out of the garment bag it was in. They slid the large white dress from its packaging and moved towards Mercedes to help her in it. Mercedes untied her silk robe and she sat it aside. Adjusting her garters and white stockings she also shifted the one over her stockings, adjusting it against her thigh as she stood upright. She adjusted the corset as well before she moved to step into the large white dress. They helped to pull the smug, tight fitted Vera Wang dressed that was customly made to her size. It sunk in near her sides, emphasized her hips and butt. And it sucked her mid-section in. The dress gave her the most natural hour-glass look, Mercedes loved it. The train long and filled with ruffles, behind her, her sisters pulled it out resting it against the floor. “You look stunning” her younger sister Bella said out loud covering her mouth slightly at the sight of her adoptive sister. Mercedes looked to her with a bright smile “do I?” she asked turning to look to herself in the mirror beside them. Mercedes gasp slightly herself “oh my God” she mumbled softly amazed herself at how she looked even as her mother added her veil and her sister’s placed her feet into her high heeled red bottoms. “Wow” Mercedes breathed again her eyes glossing over. “I think I’m gonna cry” she said softly, her chin already quivering as the words left her.

Samuel walked through the venue hand in hand with his mother. The shorter woman looked up at him almost uneasy at his quiet confident demeanor. “Sam…” She said. “Yeah?” He asked never breaking stride. “Have you been drinking.” Sarah asked impatience in her tone. He snorted. “Not since last night. I’m fine.” He impressed on her, squeezing her hand lightly. The guest had begun to arrive in waves; this wasn’t a small affair by any standards. Yes, he was a professional ball player, but his wife to be came from high society. And though he was often pompous and unyielding around, well, everyone, they intimidated him. He was a backwater cracker who had managed to be better than average at throwing a football. When he looked into their eyes, he could feel them weighing and measuring. What if they saw him for the nobody he could have been, the womanizing, and one good hit away from the soup kitchen dude he was… and worst yet what if they told Mercedes. Sam skipped a step, only just catching his balance. He was a fool. He didn’t deserve her. He never would. “Sam!” came a sober voice from in front of him. He looked up only to look away not wanting to be bothered. “Dad.” He said, letting go of his mother’s hand. The old man pushed away the slight and placed his hand on Sam’s shoulders. “Whatever you’re thinking forget it.” He said raising a knowing eyebrow. “Mercedes loves you. If she didn’t she wouldn’t be here.” Sam blinked, surprised at how the man knew his mind. He exhaled. “You’re right. I just lost my mind for a bit. But… I don’t deserve her though that’s the honest truth.” Stephen laughed the booming sound filling the space. “No, you don’t. But that just means you’ll think twice before you screw anything up.” Sam’s arms began to shake with mirth. “Damn, you have a point.”

“Aw, don’t cry” Jackie told Mercedes gently as she grabbed a few tissue for her just in case. The older woman didn’t want her to ruin her makeup after the extensive time it took to complete it in the first place. “I won’t” Mercedes said trying to willed herself not to, she told herself she wouldn’t until after everyone saw her in all her beauty and glory for the first time. “I think I’m okay” Mercedes told her mother softly as she looked to the tissue in the older woman’s hand. “Is everything perfect?” she asked her mother curiously. She turned to the side in the mirror before her examining the dress fully as best she could. Jackie chuckled lightly at the girl “yes you look breathtakingly beautiful baby” she said taking in the dress and her overall appearance with her veil on now. “Good” Mercedes said inhaling and exhaling softly to herself before she said. “I think I’m ready now…” gently and her mother nodded. “Let me go check on things out there and I’ll be right back girls” she said squeezing Mercedes hand gently before she moved to walk away completely. Creeping out of the door, closing it behind her and moving down the hallway as she did. Mercedes stared at herself a few minutes more before she finally moved to walk away from the mirror all together, she felt like if she had continued to stare she’d end up crying for real. Stepping aside she moved towards her written wedding vows again before another thought hit her. “Oh my God!” she breathed loudly cupping her hand close to her mouth but not completely, her makeup still in the back of her mind. “Sam and I are supposed to pray before the ceremony. Someone has to go catch mom and tell her. We have to pray together we just have to” she said explained in a panicked tone and her sister nodded her head at her. “Okay you calm down and I’ll go let mom know. Calm down now, I’ll be right back” the milky white skinned girl said as she moved to walk out the room herself closing the door and rushing down the hall quickly in pursuit of their mother.

Samuel moved back out of his father’s grip. Grudgingly he said, “Thanks. I almost lost it there. How did you ever make it through marrying mom?” He asked, as he squinted trying to remember the story. Sarah stepped up into the growing space between her men, “Oh, getting married is easy when there is a shotgun involved.” She smirked looking back at Stephen. A proud and disturbing look on her face that Sam hadn’t the stomach to decipher. Stephen bent, arm going around his wife’s waist. “That was the scariest situation; I have ever gotten myself into.” He hummed against the side of his wife’s face. "Whoa, their guys focus.” Sam said, turning his head away, as he rubbed his stomach. “Oh boy.” Both his parent intoned, looking to Sam. “Don’t forget we raised you.” Stephen said, with a warning challenge. “Alright, alright.” Sam said, waving his father's challenge away. He looked at his watch again, “Fat lot of good any of you are, it’s almost time I guess we should head that way. Umm, where Stephen Jr. Geez. I’m the groom shouldn’t you guys be looking out for me?” Sarah slapped her son’s arm. “We are taking care of you.” Stephen jogged up. “I’m here ass, and it’s hard to play best man when you go disappearing on everyone. ”What do you mean playing?" Stephen Jr. gave Sam an amused chuckle, ”we all know if Seth could have been here he would have been your best man. I'm just a convenient stand in”. "Lies." Sam said falling in beside his brother as they began moving up the hall. "You would have been my second round draft pick”. He chuckled.

Mercedes sister caught up with her mother relaying the message from the bride before she moved back towards the designated room for all the ladies. Jackie licked her lips if it were not one thing it was the other. She moved down the hall in pursuit of Samuel or maybe someone who knew where he was. As she saw the guy and his family in the hall of the building she turned the corner and moved for them. “Hey” she said cheerfully “are we ready, because she is” she told them. “She just has one request that you two pray together before we actually begin and I have no clue how we are going to get this done. But somehow we will make do” the woman smiled brightly at the groom and future husband to her second youngest.

The whole group laughed as they made their way to the hall. The sound of Jackie’s voice caught their attention and the entire Evans clan slowed and gave the woman time to catch up. Sarah fidgeted, fussing with her dress again for no reason. The polished, high society woman, made her nervous. Though she hated to admit it, even to herself. Samuel smiled, a slight feeling of relief washed over him. “We are ready.” He told the pretty older woman. “We were headed that way to be honest.” Sam rubbed his head, “I forgot about that. Yeah, let’s get to it” he said, a sly smile on his lips. “It’s no biggie. It means I get to see her before she walks down the aisle.” An idea that he liked immensely.

Jackie looked to Samuel with a wide smirk “yes, we can go this way. However Sam you can’t see her” she said with a smile as she lead the boy her way. She grabbed his arms locking theirs together as she moved with him the click of her heels slow as she told him. “You must know that it’s awfully bad luck to see your wife before the actual ceremony. We found the perfect place for you two to stand and pray together” she breathed out to him. “Besides that” she said making her way back to whence she came “are you ready?” she asked happily looking up at him.

Samuel glanced around, “You guys go ahead. I’ll be there as soon as we pray.” He said as he took a step towards Jackie. “Your father and I are coming with you.” Sarah chimed in. If this woman was going to be there, then so was she. Sarah thought, and then locked arms with Stephen. Sam nodded to his mother, and glanced down as Jackie took his arm. He sighed “I’ve been told its bad luck”. He said with a smirk, “But a man can hope…” As they made their way back towards the dressing area, Sam’s smile, turned serious. “I was ready to marry your daughter an hour into our first date” he said nostalgia heavy in his voice.

Jackie chuckled at Samuel shaking her head “well with that being said” she said with a smirk. She was still very curious about their relationship considering all the things her daughter hadn’t truthfully told him but she could only hope this union lasted even though it was being built on shaky grounds. She licked her lips turning the corner with Samuel, she turned to see his parents and then turned back around letting the boy go. Looked towards the bathroom area and she thought to herself for a moment. “If you stand behind that wall, granted your parents” she said looking back to Sarah and Steven “ don’t let you peek or move. Then I will bring her out and you shouldn’t be able to see her on this other side” she pointed out to him before she turned her back to the three moving a few foot steps down the hall, a little further until she reached the room she knew Mercedes was in and she opened the door moving inside of the room and closing the door behind her.

Samuel gave his soon to be mother-in-law a smile, nodding as she instructed him on where to stand. As she walked off, he moved into position devising a plan to peek anyway. “Oh, he’ll not be peeking on my watch.” Sarah said, stepping up in front of her son. Sam face fell, “Hey I’m not five.” Stephen stepped up to his son, shaking his head... “Yeah, but you’ve always had a problem with authority.” Sam laughed, uncaring at this point. It wasn’t long now… he thought to himself.

Jackie moved back into the room where her daughter resided. “Okay ladies, show time” she said clapping them all into formation. “Samuel is ready and right outside Mercedes. We can say a quick prayer while the ladies line up with the other men. So come on” she told her sternly. They were on a schedule and between both sets of parents everyone had invested more than enough money and time into this wedding being absolutely perfect and absolutely perfect it shall be. Or over Jackie’s dead body. She helped the girl to her feet again and she checked her over. “You look stunning, breathtakingly beautiful” Jackie told the girl as a reminded as the other’s scrambled to leave with their things in hand. “I have your vows” her sister told her as she two moved out the door. “Come on” she told her grabbing her hand and moving to pick up Mercedes bouquet as well. “Ready?” she asked her.

Mercedes nodded to her mother having been thankful for her kind words since she began offering them to her, the moment they all woke. She grabbed Jackie’s hand and she moved with her out of the door. This was it, after today she was no longer Mercedes Jones, instead she was Mercedes Evans. The moment she had been waiting for, for so long. And despite her past, she was more than ready to be Mrs. Mercedes Evans. She held her mother’s hand tightly holding part of her dress up as she walked down the hall to where her mother was leading. As she approached her in-laws she knew where he was standing and it made her chest hurt with worry. She was nervous all over again but she breathed evenly calling herself down. He was right behind the wall her mother was now spinning and pushing her up against. Mercedes inhaled and exhaled. Jackie grabbed her hand placing hers in Samuel’s before Mercedes father rushed around the corner to join. He promised to do two things for her today, walked her down the aisle and prayer over them ahead of time.

Sarah pushed Samuel back around the corner for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Sam! I swear you are impossible.” He had long since given up trying to actually look. He was only pretending, to annoy his mother at this point. “Okay, okay…” Sam said turning away from the wall folding his arms across his chest. Stephen only lowered his head, chuckling at Sam’s antics. “Sarah, calm down. -Sam’s only trying to ruffle your feather.” Stephen said, comforting his suddenly nervous wife. “Well he shouldn’t be such a... hard head. Especially with all these, ‘people’ around.” Sarah stressed looking around them, as she offered broken smiles to anyone, passing them. Sarah smiled inwardly as Mercedes approached with Jackie. She was a beautiful bride, even if she hated to admit it. “Here they come.” She said in a harsh whisper. Sam turned back to face the wall, the sharp look from his mother told him, if he tried to look again she would kill him herself. Instead of looking he clasped the wall in front of him, reaching for her soft skin. “Hey babe, are you okay?” he said, a feeling of relief hitting him once Jackie joined their hands.

Mercedes heard Samuel’s voice and her heart skipped several beats as she held his hand in hers. “Yes baby. Are you?” she asked him lovingly as she stood upright against the wall. Mercedes looked to her mother and then her father as he approached them. The older man was the opposite of her mother, never needed attention, didn’t stand out in a crowd. Being the man he was it was hardly ever easy to disappoint him the children never had to work hard for his love and affection. So naturally a wave of calm came over her at his presence. She took a deep breath again and said “ready when you are daddy” in a cute voice.

Samuel’s head rested against the wall, trying to get as close as he could to his wife to be, who was currently hidden from view by sheetrock and tile. “Oh, I’ll be perfect in 20 minutes.” He smiled, “I bet you look gorgeous.” He heard Mercedes father more than saw the man; he closed his eyes wanting this part to be over so they could be married already. Stephen placed one hand on Sam’s shoulder, then linked hands with Sarah in preparation for the prayer.

Mercedes father said a quick prayer something to hold the kids over and cover them, hopefully to put them at ease and prepare them for the next step. As he finished Mercedes said “amen” lifting her head once again. She smiled brightly; she was a lot calmer and ready to walk down that aisle now. “Okay” she said in a giddy voice. “Meet you there” she told Samuel squeezing his hand hard before she let it go. Knowingly she waited right where she was as her future husband was escorted to his destination and she looked to her parents happily, she found the man of her dreams and she was about to marry him before their family and peers. She couldn’t believe it, her, the foster care child hanging on to a thread of sanity and wishing to have nothing but a prosperous life, was marrying Prince Charming. Made her heart swell as she thought about it even now.

Samuel squeezed Mercedes’ hand back returning the assurance she was trying to give him. He moved forward as his parents bustled him off, on legs seemingly leaden as he pushed them forward step by step. Outwardly he didn’t appear to be going any slower. But then again maybe his brain was lying to him. At the hall doors, Sarah stepped into Sam’s view, straightening his tie. On tiptoes his mother went up kissing him on the cheek. He nodded, and smiled and shook his father’s hand, which turned into a bear hung from the older gentlemen. “Son, take care of her. She’s a special lady.” The older man let Sam go and prepared to enter the hall. Taking Sarah hand once more he moves purposefully down the hall. Stephen looked to Sarah and whispered, "you're hands are shaking”. He squeezed her hand trying to calm her down. Finally it was Sam’s turn to walk up the aisle. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, he had ran hundreds of miles on the football field and yet this was the longest walk he had ever taken. He nodded to his brother and the minister. Before taking his place, on the dais turning to watch for his bride.

Mercedes stood there waiting before her mother helped her down the hallway. Holding up the train of her dress as she did. She walked alongside her dad and she looked to the bridesmaids and groomsmen as they marched in one set at a time. She smiled at everyone they looked so beautiful, it was perfect. She could faintly hear the music and she hummed lightly as she fixed her veil a bit allowing it to fall to the ground behind her. She tapped her foot lightly as she watched each sibling move towards the front of the venue and she inhaled and exhaled slowly. Her nervousness was subsiding and now if anything she was just ready to get it over with. To finally be Mrs. Evans, to rush off to their honeymoon. As the last set of people, her mother and usher, walked down the aisle she grabbed her father’s hand and the moved towards the now closed double doors. She locked her arms with him happily looking up at him and she leaned into his warm peck of the forehead. “Ready sweet pea?” he asked her and she nodded her head. “Yes” she said happily as the doors open. Someone began to sing, and she looked towards them shocked through the long veil. It was Maxwell, singing ‘One in a Million’ and her heart skipped a beat. She had no clue this was going to happen, it was a surprise from Samuel nonetheless and she smiled brightly looking back towards the center of the stage seeing him. Now her heart raced a mile a minute, thumping against her chest as she held her father tightly with one arm and gripped her bouquet in the other avoiding the many faces standing up and watching her in ‘aw’.

The wedding march and the processional started. Finally, Samuel breathed as he bit his lip in anticipation. Even from the platform, he found himself stretching, going on tiptoe, eyes fixed on the open doors at the back of the hall. He held his breath as the music changed. Quickly he glanced to where Stacy was in the line of attendants giving him a covert thumbs up. And then almost out of nowhere there Mercedes was. The wash of mock snowflakes, and dancing white lights, surrounded his betroth. As beautiful as they had made the hall, all of it, paled and fell away in her wake. Her skin seemed to have its own glow as she approached him. He never even noticed the tears that leaked from his eyes.

Her eyes had met his twice and each time she willed herself not to cry, to suck it up and hold it in. Not yet, she didn’t want to cry yet. Not before he got the chance to remove her veil and see her fully. Mercedes dropped her head slightly, she was getting closer and closer and in turn her heart was beating faster and faster. She lifted her head again as he father and she both made it to the edge of the stage. He gave her away, giving his blessing as he had many times before. She smiled at him as he let her go grabbing her hand and holding it out for Samuel, his new son to grab. He was crying and reluctantly she couldn’t help it. She sniffled as she stepped onto the stage, drawing Maxwell’s song to a close. She looked to him, standing across from his tall stature and she swallowed hard waiting for him to lift the veil.

There was something foreign on Samuel's face, as Mercedes drew closer he turned away from the audience and wiped the corners of his eyes. It was useless; they were replaced by new ones as soon as he turned back. He mouthed; "You look gorgeous" as soon as she was close enough to be seen through the veil. His face beam with so much pride, his smile was almost painful. He reached out taking her hand, helping her onto the dais. He licked his lips, as he stared at her for a moment. "Love you." He whispered, as his surprisingly, still hands lifted her veil, "You're gorgeous" came to his lips seconds before he kissed her, smoothing the sheer fabric over her head.

At Samuel’s words Mercedes blushed deeply, she dipped her head a bit before she looked up smiling at him. As he removed her veil, flipping it back she looked into his watery green eyes with her own watery brown ones and she beamed with happiness as he leaned in to kiss her. She giggled lightly as the pastor cleared his throat at she looked up and she blushed again. Gazing at Samuel one last time she looked to the pastor giving him her attention now.

The Minister looked to Samuel and Mercedes and then to the crowd before he spoke. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God, and in the presence of family and friends to join together this man and this woman in Holy Matrimony, which is commended of St. Paul to be an honorable estate, instituted of God and therefore is not to be entered into unadvisedly or carelessly, but reverently, joyfully and in the love of God. Into this holy estate these two persons present come now to be joined.” The man looks to Mercedes family and says "Who gives this bride to this Groom in marriage?" and Mercedes mother and Father says “I do” in unison. “Jesus Christ Reminds us, that at the beginning the Creator made us male and female, and said, For this cause a man shall leave his father and mother and shall cleave to his wife; and the two shall become one flesh. God loved us, and created us to love others. Our lives find completion only as we love and are loved in return. Together, we can become what we could never be separately. Marriage is of God” the Ministers says looking to them both as he continued. “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, and it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, and always perseveres. Love never fails. Samuel and Mercedes come today desiring to be united in this sacred relationship” he breathed before he began to pray. “Let us all pray” he said bowing his head and closing his eyes. “O' Almighty God you have created us all in the image of Love, the image of yourself. Bless now these two who stand before you. Guide them in your wisdom, shine your light upon them, that as they journey through this life together they will walk as bearers of your Truth. Amen” he concluded.

Mercedes listened and watch the Minister taking key of what he was saying; she held Samuel’s hand, her flowers in the other all while the minister kept her attention as he continued to speak. She nibbled her lips slightly as she continued to listen to the older man before he asked for them all to pray. She shifted her weight, as she bowed her head and closed her eyes. As the man finished she said “amen” as well as she lifted her head up again this time looking to Samuel knowingly

“Samuel!” Sarah scolded sharp and crisp in time with the pastor clearing his throat. Samuel pulled away from Mercedes, winking cheekily as he collected the vestiges of her sweetness from his lips. He held her delicate hands in his, and bowed his head at the pastor’s request. Only throughout the prayer he kept stealing small glances at Mercedes. It wasn’t his fault he surmised, the man was taking too long. “Amen” he intoned with his soon to be wife, opening his eye. He looked down at Mercedes wearing his most innocent face. Smirking, he mouthed, “prayer number two.” At this rate one thing was sure; they should have a very blessed union. He thought, confidently.

The Minister looked between the two and said “please join hands.” He waited for them to do so before he says “The bride and groom have chosen to say their own vows” he announced.

Mercedes turned slightly handing her bouquet over and she turned back to Samuel. She joined hands with the man before she looked to the minister again.

The Minister looked to Samuel to start out his vows, with a sheepish smile.

Samuel gave the minister a sideways glance, and cleared his throat dramatically. “It’s that time already…” He asked finally nervous about his lack of vows. “Okay,” He said staring into her big brown eyes.

#samcedes rp #thread: 2 becomes 1.#thread.#thread: sam e.

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