eclipsedechoesofmywords

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

I have such a mean idea for a bucky fic

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Should've Been Perfect"

[Bucky Barnes x fem!reader]

Rewrite of Do You Want to Dance Too?

Masterlist

Summary: A ruined date turns unexpectedly sweet when you and Bucky get caught in a summer storm.

Warnings: none. just fluff

Word Count: 924 words

A/N: rewriting simply to see how far I've gotten since my first fic, and I guess this counts as me officially being back.

Bucky's cursing was nearly drowned out by the first raindrops hitting the pavement as you both ran into the café's doorway.

"We should've checked the forecast," Bucky grumbled, shaking water from his hair like a disgruntled Labrador.

You shrugged, pretending not to notice the way his damp shirt clung to his shoulders. "It isn't that bad."

"It's going to be." He nodded toward the windows.

You couldn't help but giggle at his sulking. The Winter Soldier, brought low by some rain. Bucky narrowed his eyes at you, but the effect was ruined when a droplet slid from his hair down the bridge of his nose.

Ella appeared from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. "Well, if it isn't my favorite disaster couple," she drawled. "Let me guess—hot chocolates?"

"You know us too well," you said, sliding into the corner booth that had somehow become yours over time.

Bucky sat beside you, still glaring out of the window. Mother Nature didn't seem to like that; the rain intensified its assault against the glass, as if in direct response to his scowl.

You took his hand in your own. "Today was great, Jamie," you assured softly.

He shook his head. "That's not enough. It should've been perfect."

Ella set two steaming mugs before you with a smile, wisely retreating to give you privacy.

Bucky's throat worked as he swallowed. His gaze dropped to where your thumb brushed his vibranium wrist - a gesture that would have made him flinch years ago. Now he turned his palm up to catch your fingers.

"Perfect is boring, Buck, you know that," You murmured, "We had a good time, and that's enough for me."

Bucky's eyes softened, the tension in his jaw finally easing. His thumb brushed your cheek, catching a raindrop you'd missed.

"What would I do without you?" he wondered out loud.

You grinned, leaning in until your nose brushed his. "It's too awful to think about."

He laughed against your lips just before he kissed you, slow, sweet, and lingering.

When he pulled away, he murmured, "We should probably finish this hot chocolate."

You frowned. "Is hot cocoa really more important than kissing your girlfriend?"

He chuckled. "It is really good."

You couldn't deny that argument.

As he sipped the drink, it was your turn to look out of the window. You watched the raindrops hammer against the window, each one exploding like tiny water balloons. Storms always brought back memories you'd rather forget—cold nights, empty promises, the kind of loneliness that soaked into your bones. But Bucky was here, and he had an unintentional habit of replacing bad memories with good ones.

That gave you an idea.

"Wanna make a run for it now?" you asked suddenly, nodding toward the downpour outside.

Bucky paused mid-sip and gave you that look—the one that says you're insane, but he loves you anyway. "It's pouring."

"Yeah, but it's not going to get any better."

He scoffed. "You want to dance too?"

The question made your eyes light up. "Can we?"

James' eyes widened, regretting his words immediately. "I was kidding."

"Why not? It's as cliche as dancing in the apartment," you pointed out, "Besides, it'll be fun."

"We are not dancing in the rain," he said firmly.

"But—"

"It's way too cold, and the last time you got a fever, you couldn't get out of bed for a week."

You hid your wince with a pout. "Fine. But we should go for it anyway."

Bucky drained the last of his hot chocolate with a resigned sigh, then stood and shrugged out of his leather jacket. "Here," he said, putting it over your head like an umbrella. "At least this'll keep you somewhat dry."

You grinned up at him. "My knight in shining armor."

"Shut up," he muttered, but the corners of his mouth twitched as he wrapped his free arm around your shoulders. "On three. One—"

You bolted before he reached two, dragging him out into the downpour with a shriek of laughter. The cold rain hit you like a thousand tiny needles, soaking through your clothes in seconds.

"Hey!" Bucky shouted over the storm, but he was laughing too as he caught up effortlessly, his jacket now doing little good for either of you.

Lightning flashed overhead, illuminating the empty street ahead. Somewhere between gasping breaths and puddles, you stumbled. Bucky's hand quickly found your waist, his grip steadying you.

"You're insane," he panted.

"You love it."

Bucky huffed as you turned to him. His shirt was practically transparent now, clinging to every ridge of muscle. You might have stared a little too long.

"See something you like?" he teased, stepping closer.

You didn’t answer, just wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a slow sway right there on the sidewalk, the rain still pouring around you.

Bucky didn’t resist, his hands settling at your waist as you moved together, your soaked clothes clinging.

"You’re going to get sick," he murmured, but his grip tightened, pulling you closer.

You grinned up at him, rainwater dripping from your lashes. "I'll live," you said quickly, standing on your tip toes and chasing his lips.

Bucky exhaled sharply through his nose—half exasperation, half surrender—before sealing his mouth over yours in a kiss.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered that you'd absolutely pay for this in a week, with sneezes and sniffles and Bucky's overbearing mother-henning. But as his teeth grazed your bottom lip, his groan vibrating against your mouth, you decided—

Yeah.

Worth it.

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

A familiar scent of cinnamon and pumpkin spice in the air mixed with a hint of love and everything nice. Oh, my dear, is my nose tricking me or is there a note of—Mel and Jayce falling in love?

This fall we fall in love together. A cozy ⁠Meljay week awaits you!

Coming soon. 🍂🌿

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

✦ 🎁 MELJAY GIFT EXCHANGE ⸻ IN SERVER EVENT

What a wonderful first server exclusive event this has been! 💫

We want to thank every user who participated and gifted another Meljay enjoyer a beautiful fanwork. Together we created 15 fics, 4 artworks and have written 57.954 words in total.

A great turn out for our first exchange! 💜

We can't wait for more fun events and hope you do too!

Keep an eye out for news. We will be back soon! 💜💫

In the meantime you can read some of the wonderful works created as part of the event in our OnlyMeljay Fic Exchange collection on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/collections/meljayficxchange

Make sure to leave Kudos and a comment to show your appreciation! 💫

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

For the @onlymeljay fanfic exchange I got my dearest friend Quartz aka @joshhcrtnett

I hope you enjoy!

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/meljayficxchange/works/65785591

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

Rating:

Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning:

Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Category:

F/M

Fandom:

Arcane: League of Legends (Cartoon 2021)

Relationships:

Jayce (League of Legends)/Mel MedardaJayce (League of Legends) & Mel Medarda

Characters:

Mel MedardaJayce (League of Legends)Elora (Arcane: League of Legends)Viktor (League of Legends)

Additional Tags:

Mutual PiningSoulmatesCanon CompliantPre-CanonCanon UniverseIdiots in LoveSoft Mel MedardaMel Medarda-centricJayce/Mel Medarda-centricLight Angst

Language:

English

For: @eclipsedechoesofmywords

Summary:

In which Jayce and Mel, like each other but neither decides to act for different reasons during the seven year time jump between act one and two of season one.

...

She had to admit it – Jayce was different from everything I’d known before. There was something about him that she found… disarming. She wasn’t sure if it was his natural charm, that complexion combined with those honey-colored eyes and the tender way he looked at her, how ambitious he was about his dreams and goals. It was him. Everything that meant to be Jayce Talis was irresistible.

From the moment she saw him, she knew Jayce was special.

But even though she wanted to try something with him, she wouldn’t.

She was the problem, she didn’t deserve something as good as him. She was Noxian, though she’d been exiled years ago and had become somewhat different from everything Noxus stood for, it didn’t change the fact that she was Ambessa’s daughter – war ran through her veins, the cunning, everything she wished she could erase from herself.

She wasn’t good for someone like him, she shouldn’t feel anything for Jayce, and that only made him more irresistible.

“Mel… What are you doing here alone?” Salo asked, sitting beside her at the table.

She rolled her eyes and took a sip from her glass, trying to ignore Salo, fixing her gaze on someone more… attractive.

As if he’d felt her eyes on his back, Jayce looked up and their eyes met across the crowded room. Mel decided not to look away until Viktor and Sky spoke to him, forcing him to break eye contact.

“Did you hear me, Mel?” Salo asked, leaning forward with his elbow on the table, invading her line of sight.

“No,” she finished her drink and stood up.

“Hey wait, I just wanted to talk and…”

Salo caught her slender wrist in his fingers before she could even react. But before she needed to defend herself, Jayce stepped between them.

“She needs to talk with me for a moment. I believe your conversation will have to wait,” Jayce said, placing a protective hand on Mel’s back.

The blond man released Mel’s wrist and looked up at Jayce, smiling with too much hypocrisy.

“Of course… see you later, Mel.”

Salo nodded at them both and disappeared into the crowd. Only then did Jayce turn to her, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe, his gaze softening as he gave her a lopsided smile.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Of course,” she replied immediately, keeping her voice calm.

“Is he always like that with you?” Jayce nodded toward where Salo had gone.

She nodded, then shrugged it off. She’d slept with him years ago just to use him when needed – only once, but he always acted like she owed him something. She’d never been interested. Never would be.

“Usually, but I don’t need you to defend me… I can handle myself.”

“I know…” Jayce clicked his tongue, then smiled. “But there’s nothing wrong with accepting help sometimes.”

Her green eyes focused on him, shining with something unfamiliar, her heart beating faster, a strange flutter in her stomach. Leaving her completely speechless.

Help? She wasn’t accustomed to that – to such treatment, to the way Jayce acted like it was natural to be so… what? Tender, attentive and innocent.

“Thank you… I suppose,” she responded, smiling genuinely.

“Don’t thank me… I should be thanking you. If it weren’t for you and Viktor… I wouldn’t be here now,” he said, gesturing around them.

Would it be so bad to kiss him right now? Would it look terrible if she kissed the future of Piltover during Progress Day? Could her heart withstand something as gentle as him? Did she want to kiss him this badly?

Her eyes dropped to his lips and she forced herself to focus on his eyes instead, blinking rapidly to clear the thought. Where had that come from?

“Don’t thank me either. I know with you we can put Piltover on the map.” Jayce gave her that sideways smile and she looked down to hide how it made her heart react.

Unable to speak without her voice betraying her, she simply nodded toward Elora. He understood immediately, nodding as he slowly stepped back – almost like he needed an excuse to stay and talk with her. Finding none, he returned to Viktor and Sky while Mel practically fled to Elora.

Why was this happening to her?

…

Piltover wasn’t her home. Some days she almost believed it belonged to her, like she could be part of the Council and help put Piltover on the map. Days when she almost felt like she belonged. But most days she knew this wasn’t her place – it never would be.

She was a fox among rabbits.

And Noxus… wasn’t home either. She couldn’t belong to a place that only offered war. There, she was a fox among wolves.

So she belonged nowhere. Not here, not there. Just someone clinging desperately to the illusion of fitting in, grasping at anything that gave her that feeling. But at the end of the day, when she returned to her big, empty house, she knew this city would never be home. Neither would Noxus.

How could she fit in here? Her golden tattoos, her very nature – everything that defined her shone like a torch in the darkness. From afar, anyone could see she didn’t belong here. Or there. She was just… passing through.

Wherever she went, she’d always just be passing through.

Golden eyes and dark skin pulled her from her thoughts, bringing her back to reality.

“You okay?” he asked, studying her. “You’ve been quiet today.”

“Perfectly fine,” she replied, bringing her glass to her lips.

“Where’s Elora?” he asked, scanning the room.

“She couldn’t come. She’s sick.”

“That explains why you’re alone and so quiet.”

Mel shook her head and ignored him.

He didn’t know her. He’d only seen what she chose to show – the determined politician willing to use anyone to make Piltover greater. To prove to her mother she wasn’t weak.

“Want to step out for some air? I’m tired of socializing with strangers too,” he said, offering his hand.

“They’re not strangers, they’re investors, and they—“

“I know what they are.”

Mel smiled and looked down, trying to control her racing heart. This was how things were between them – that constant tension in the air, that smoldering fire. But she wouldn’t act on it.

How could she belong in Piltover? How could she even think about being with someone like Jayce? Besides, she didn’t want to use him… and she feared that was all she knew how to do.

She pressed her lips together and looked up again, locking eyes with him. If she wasn’t going to act, there was no point in going somewhere alone. More alone than they’d ever been.

Just the two of them.

But she felt so lonely without Elora, so bored drinking wine by herself… She sighed and nodded, taking his hand.

“Hope you have good conversation topics, Talis,” she warned, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course I do.”

Jayce led the way out of the hall. Gradually, the noise of the party faded as they descended the stairs to the building’s courtyard. They were alone except for a few distracted guards patrolling the perimeter, uninterested in their conversation.

Before she could bring up a safe topic, he started:

“My mother always pushed me to be better. I pushed myself too… and when everything was about to collapse, you and Viktor saved me.”

Jayce rested his hands on the railing and looked up at the sky – not at the buildings, but at the stars. Mel stood beside him, following his gaze upward.

“I thanked you then, but… I don’t think you understand how much it meant to me.”

Once, Jayce had been that misunderstood dreamer, that exile. Once, that had been her. And though she hadn’t realized it then, now she saw it clearly: she’d seen herself reflected in him.

“Your mother… she saved you too,” Mel said. “It might not have seemed like it then, but she didn’t want you exiled.”

There was the first big difference between them. Jayce’s mother had fought to keep him close. Hers had only wanted to be rid of her.

“I know… but you and Viktor believed in me more than she did.”

“You’re being unfair to your mother. She did what she could to—“

“I understand, really. But taking me out of the Academy was taking away my dream.”

“I hope you don’t resent her. She saved her son from exile. Not all mothers would do that.”

Mine didn’t. She thought.

Jayce frowned and turned from the sky to look at her. Mel, however, avoided the questions forming in his curious eyes.

She was annoyed with Jayce. Because he had a mother who loved him, who would do anything to keep him close. Hers had only seen weakness in her and hadn’t hesitated to exile her from what she’d thought was home.

And now she was here, where she’d never belong.

Before Jayce could ask, Mel looked directly at him, chin raised, hiding her emotions behind her usual mask.

“We should go back. They’ll notice we’re missing, and I don’t want misunderstandings. It was… nice talking with you.”

Jayce held her gaze and gave her a crooked smile.

“Right… you go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

Mel turned away, and only when she was sure he couldn’t see her face did she add:

“And about the other thing… it was nothing. I just recognize talent when I see it. Man of Progress.”

…

Caitlyn was finally old enough to attend Progress Day with her parents. At twenty, she learned how close Jayce and she were.

Caitlyn danced with Jayce in front of everyone without a hint of embarrassment at how… mismatched they looked compared to the others. Even Cassandra gave her daughter disapproving looks for having fun at such an event, but Jayce and Caitlyn didn’t seem to care.

It made Mel smile genuinely as she watched them.

“I didn’t think you liked Jayce,” Elora said, sitting across from her, watching Mel instead of the pair.

Mel pressed her lips together and turned to Elora, trying to ignore Jayce and Caitlyn drawing everyone’s attention.

“What are you talking about? I was just watching how—“

“You can’t fool me, Mel. I’ve known you practically my whole life… I know you like him.”

She’d worked so hard to bury those feelings, avoiding unnecessary conversations with Jayce to keep them from growing. She treated him like anyone else – no flirting, keeping her distance.

He shouldn’t be with her.

She’d understood that the day she realized how different yet similar they were. His upbringing was nothing like hers. The only common ground was that they were both dreamers nobody had believed in at first.

Mel wasn’t for him.

They shouldn’t be together, and that’s why she’d pulled away.

Besides… what did she know about love?

She could barely be a good friend to Elora.

Ambessa had taught her love was weakness.

How could she love someone when even this felt like breathing?

Jayce was attentive, affectionate – she saw how he interacted with his mother, with Caitlyn. He knew how to love, unlike her.

Elora gave her that look Mel knew too well – equal parts exasperation and affection.

“You should go after what you want, Mel,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “Instead of repressing those feelings like they’re something bad.”

Mel clenched her jaw, swallowed hard, and for a second looked at Jayce again, her heart speeding up. She shook her head and turned back to her friend.

Elora watched Mel with an unrelenting gaze, fingers playing with the edge of her wine glass.

“You can’t keep avoiding this, Mel,” Elora said quietly. “You look at him like the world stops when he enters the room.”

Mel gritted her teeth, avoiding her friend’s eyes.

“It’s not like that.”

Elora sighed, leaning in slightly.

“Mel, wanting something for yourself isn’t weakness,” she countered. “Jayce is… different. He doesn’t see you as a tool, as a weapon. He sees you as you.”

Mel closed her eyes briefly, as if fighting something inside. She couldn’t remember ever feeling like this about anyone before. Other men had meant nothing – just a night or two, but nothing like this.

Jayce was different.

Mel stood, searching for Jayce in the crowd. Her heart pounded with an intensity she wasn’t used to, but this time she didn’t suppress it.

Until she saw him.

Jayce stood near the exit, laughing with a woman Mel didn’t recognize. The woman had her arm linked with his, laughing at whatever he’d said. Jayce whispered something in her ear, she laughed, and together they left the hall, lost in their own world.

Mel froze. So did her heart.

…

She was… radiant. There was no other word for Mel in a single glance. She commanded attention just by entering a room. That was the first thing he noticed. Then those deep green eyes, then the tattoos along her body like armor.

At first, when he saw her and felt that magnetic pull, he thought it would fade with time – that he’d get over this infatuation. That’s how he always was: he’d notice someone, feel this way for a while until either they got together and it wasn’t what he imagined, or they just didn’t fit.

But with her, it was different.

That feeling in his chest – the need to be near her, to share more than surface-level conversations – never went away.

He wanted to know Mel Medarda. Every part of her. The good, the bad, what she liked to eat, what she was allergic to, what made her laugh. He wanted *her*.

Mel, however, seemed to want nothing to do with him. Or at least, didn’t feel the same pull. To her, he was just another person.

And he’d accepted that maybe she’d never see someone like him as anything more. After all, he was just a House Talis upstart, and she was the wealthiest woman in Piltover.

He noticed Mel walking toward him, swallowed hard, and fixed his eyes on the horizon, trying to ignore how she settled beside him, mirroring his stance as they both looked out at the view.

“What are you doing out here alone?” she asked, tilting her head toward him with that sideways smile.

Jayce laughed softly and shook his head, dispelling all those mistaken ideas. It was all in his mind, he decided. She wasn’t flirting – this was just how she was with everyone. He wasn’t special, he’d just convinced himself he was.

“Nothing, just trying to… focus,” he answered, tapping his fingers against the glass.

“Nervous, really?” Mel murmured, moving close enough that her perfume enveloped him like an intoxicating mist.

Her voice was soft, but held that playful edge that always made him feel like a specimen under glass.

Jayce pressed his palms against the cool glass, trying to ground himself. It wasn’t the presentation making him sweat. It was *her*. The way her dress clung to every curve, how her golden tattoos seemed to glow in the sunset.

Mel tilted her head, studying him with those eyes that saw too much.

“Or are you worried about disappointing someone in particular?” she asked, tracing a finger along the glass near where his hand rested – almost touching.

Jayce held his breath.

“What if I was?” he challenged, turning toward her, caught between defiance and desire.

Mel didn’t retreat. If anything, her smile grew slower, more dangerous.

“Then I’d tell you not to worry,” she murmured, voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “Because when you talk about your work, Jayce, it’s impossible to look away.”

Jayce’s heart hammered. A compliment, yes, but also a challenge. Did she mean it? Or was this another game?

Only then did he turn his head toward her, finding her gaze already on him – until her eyes dipped briefly to his lips before meeting his again. Her lips parted slightly.

“Is this about that girl I saw you with last year? Don’t want to disappoint her?”

Jayce blinked, confused. What girl? For a moment his mind went blank until the vague memory surfaced. He arched an eyebrow and shook his head immediately.

“Her? No, that was…” He shook his head, almost embarrassed. “Just one night. Nothing important.”

Mel arched a brow, that playful smile still dancing on her lips.

“Nothing important?” she repeated, as if tasting the words. “How cruel.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Jayce defended, though he knew he shouldn’t have to. “It was mutual. There wasn’t…” He trailed off because Mel was leaning in closer, her breath warm against his skin.

“There wasn’t what?” she challenged.

Jayce couldn’t answer. Not when she was this close, not when her eyes dropped to his lips again, as if measuring them, considering them. The air between them grew thick, charged with something electric, dangerous.

He leaned in without thinking, as if his body decided for him. Mel didn’t pull away. If anything, her lashes lowered slightly, as if half-closing her eyes, waiting—

“Jayce!” Viktor’s voice cut through from the doorway.

Jayce jerked back as if burned. Mel simply straightened with that perfect calm, as if nothing had nearly happened.

He swallowed hard and fixed his eyes on her. Glanced at Viktor. Without a word, he stepped away from the balcony, leaving her alone with a thousand questions racing through her mind.

Had he been about to kiss her?

…

Mel stopped abruptly before entering the laboratory with him, pressing her lips together to suppress a soft smile. Things between them had progressed further than either had ever imagined.

They had moved beyond superficial small talk to occasionally sharing lunches or dinners when their schedules allowed.

"You'll have to come into the lab someday, you know... Viktor doesn't bite," Jayce said, nodding toward his friend.

She waved at Viktor, who merely acknowledged her with a tilt of his head before returning to his work.

"Another time. I need to get back to the Council... See you later, Jayce." Mel rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek before walking down the hall.

He closed the door and returned to his workstation, only for Viktor to swivel his chair and face him directly.

"So, things are moving forward between you two?" Viktor crossed his arms.

"Yeah, she's... nice," Jayce replied, smiling to himself.

Though he was certain he hadn't even begun to truly know Mel—she kept so much to herself. No matter how much he asked or tried to learn more about her, she deflected or changed the subject.

He understood. She was like that. She needed time before opening up, before sharing anything deeply personal.

"If I were you... I wouldn't trust her so easily," Viktor warned, his tone severe.

The words cut through Jayce's mood like a blade. His smile faded, replaced by a frown as he turned to meet Viktor's gaze. His friend's eyes were cold, distant.

"What are you talking about?"

"She's a politician, Jayce. From the moment I met her, she's been exactly what she presents herself as. You shouldn't trust someone whose profession is persuasion."

It wasn’t fair. Viktor didn’t know her—not like Jayce did. He hadn’t spent time with her, hadn’t seen the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t watching.

"You don’t know her. You can’t say that—"

"I know her better than you do. I’ve been around her longer than you have. She isn’t trustworthy."

"You trust Heimerdinger, and he works just like her."

"It’s different. Heimerdinger is a wise creature with years of experience. Mel isn’t."

Jayce clenched his fists on the worktable, frustration burning up his neck.

"It’s not the same, Viktor. Mel isn’t just a politician. She’s—"

He stopped, searching for the right words. How could he explain the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t watching? Or how, in rare moments, the ice in her green eyes melted away?

Viktor sighed, leaning on his cane as he stood with difficulty.

"I’m not saying she’s a bad person, Jayce," he clarified, his voice softer but no less firm. "I’m just telling you to be careful. People like her... have agendas beyond feelings."

"And I don’t?" Jayce shot back bitterly. "Don’t we all have something we’re chasing?"

Viktor looked at him with that expression—the one he always wore when he knew Jayce wouldn’t understand. Not yet.

"Yes. But we don’t all play the same game." He paused, weighing his next words. "Just don’t let yourself be blinded. Because when she has to choose between loyalty to you and her ambitions... you already know what she’ll pick."

Jayce wanted to argue, to shout that Viktor was wrong—that Mel wasn’t like that. But something in his friend’s gaze, that mix of concern and resignation, stopped him.

"Don’t underestimate her," he murmured, more to himself than Viktor. "Or what’s between us."

Viktor didn’t respond. He only nodded slowly, as if he already knew how it would all end. And as he turned back to his work, Jayce stood there, the bitter taste of doubt in his mouth and the ghost of Mel’s kiss still burning on his cheek.

For the first time since meeting her, a relentless question forced its way into his mind:

What if Viktor is right? He thought.

…

He had become the Man of Progress, had helped put Piltover on the map—but the final chapter of Hextech remained unfinished. Still, they were close. He and Viktor had made incredible strides.

And despite Viktor’s warnings, Jayce kept seeing Mel. They met when they could, though he was cautious now, as if one misstep could unravel everything.

But sometimes, the constant attention exhausted him. He needed to escape—somewhere no one could admire him or praise his work. He didn’t hate the admiration, but it could be overwhelming.

He heard Mel’s footsteps behind him and turned to see her approaching the balcony, just like they did every Progress Day. She settled beside him, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

"I thought you’d give the speech this year. I was surprised not to see you up there," she remarked, nudging his shoulder and drawing a smile from him.

"No... I think I’m better like this. Just inventing, improving lives," Jayce replied with a shrug.

Mel studied him with that piercing look, the one that always seemed to see past his words. The night breeze played with loose strands of her hair, and for a moment, Jayce allowed himself to admire how the Hextech lanterns illuminated her features.

"How modest," she said, though without her usual irony. "Though I suppose that’s part of your charm. Inventing to help, not for applause."

Jayce felt an unfamiliar warmth in his cheeks and looked away, toward the glowing city.

"It’s not as noble as it sounds. Sometimes I just want... something meaningful. Without all the noise."

Mel nodded slowly, as if understanding something he himself hadn’t fully grasped.

"The noise won’t stop, Jayce. You’re too important to Piltover now." She paused deliberately. "And to certain people."

Jayce’s heart skipped, but before he could respond, she continued:

"Though I suppose it’s good that you still prefer these quiet moments. Makes you easier to find."

The words hung between them, heavy with something neither dared name. Jayce turned fully toward her, searching her eyes for answers, but Mel’s face was an enigma, lit by distant fireworks.

"Mel, I…"

The words caught in his throat, as always.

She tilted her head slightly, waiting. Her green eyes reflected the city lights, shimmering like Hextech crystals. A burst of fireworks startled them both, and in the sudden flash, Jayce glimpsed something raw in her expression—a fleeting vulnerability that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"Yes, Jayce?"

He opened his mouth, but the click of heels down the corridor interrupted them. They instinctively pulled apart like guilty teenagers.

"Councillor Medarda," an attendant said with a bow. "The Kiramman insists on your presence."

Mel exhaled, her usual composure slipping back into place.

"Tell them I’ll be there shortly."

When the attendant left, the silence between them thickened. Mel tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—an uncharacteristically nervous gesture.

"I should go," she murmured, yet made no move to leave.

Jayce nodded, that familiar knot tightening in his stomach.

Another explosion of light in the sky. Mel looked at the city, then back at him.

"We’ll find time to talk... just us."

"Yeah... or I could pick you up from the Council. We could have lunch—if you’d like," he ventured, fidgeting slightly.

"Of course." Mel rose onto her toes and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

She walked away with firm steps, her golden silhouette melting into the balcony’s shadows. Jayce stared at the space she’d occupied, that familiar ache of missed opportunities settling in.

Six years. Six damn years of this.

The fireworks continued to light up the night, but Jayce no longer saw them. He only thought of the next Progress Day—and whether either of them would finally find the courage to say what they truly felt.

Or if they’d keep circling each other for another twelve months.

https://archiveofourown.org/collections/meljayficxchange/works/66022456

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

"Mending Endings"

[Jayce Talis x Mel Medarda] Masterlist

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, Jayce is disabled, chronic pain, fluff, serious injuries, post canon, canon divergence, proofread(thank you ari!!), a bit ooc at the end? probably

Summary: After the war, Jayce and Mel pick up the pieces—of Piltover, of themselves, and of something fractured between them. Healing isn’t linear, but in the quiet moments, they learn that survival is its kind of victory.

aka meljay moments after the war

Word Count: 2.7k words

A/N: This is for the 2025 MelJay Exchange!

Pain wasn’t white-hot like everyone said it was. No, it was darker than that. Deeper. It swallowed his vision whole, turned his limbs to lead, and when he hit the ground the second time—this time from the sky onto the roof of his greatest creation—it didn’t even surprise him.  

The good news was that Jayce didn’t shatter his leg again.

The bad news? His arm snapped instead.  

Worse than the crack of bone was the silence that followed. No gasps. No shouts. Just the distant, indifferent hum of Piltover below, carrying on without him. He tried to move, but his body refused. As if the fall had severed the connection between thought and action.  

Then came the laughter. Brittle. Breathless. Almost hysterical.  

His laughter.  

Because, of course, this would happen now. After everything. After the war, he thought it was over. After he thought everything was finally over, but no. His leg still ached like a bastard, and he’d been ignoring it for weeks, pushing through the pain like it was nothing.  

Now?

Now it was all catching up to him.  

‘Get yourself together, Jayce.’

A sane voice in his head.

Too bad the rest of him was too exhausted to listen.  

“Jayce?”

That...wasn’t his voice.

But he was too far gone to place it.  

“Jayce!”

His head jerked up too fast. The world tilted violently, vision swimming, skull pounding in protest. He squeezed his eyes shut, teeth gritted against the nausea rising in his throat.  

Then—hands. Warm. Firm.

Gripping his shoulders like he might vanish if they let go.  

“Jayce, look at me.”

That voice. Cool. Commanding. But beneath it, something else. Something sharp.  

Mel.

He forced his eyes open, blinking until her face swam into focus—dark skin flushed with exertion, golden eyes wide and searching. “You’re alive,” she exhaled, the words barely more than breath.  

He blinked at her. Mel. 

Gods, she was beautiful.  

“Mel.” His voice was raw. Not from the fall, but from the weight of her name in his mouth, like a prayer he’d forgotten how to say. It came out cracked at the edges, half-breath, half-disbelief.

And then he slumped forward, his head hitting the cold floor under him. 

— — — — — —

Mel was exhausted. She slumped against the infirmary wall, trying to avoid thinking about the bodies and the injuries for just a little longer, trying to avoid thinking about the body of her mother and the funeral that was to happen in Noxus altogether. It was over. 

Gods, was it over?

The air smelled like smoke and blood. The kind of stench that clung to the back of her throat, no matter how many times she swallowed.

Mel closed her eyes, just for a moment. Just to breathe.

But the moment didn’t last.

A sharp gasp cut through the haze—someone’s pain, someone’s shock—and her eyes flew open.  

Jayce.  

He was stirring, his face twisted in a grimace as consciousness returned. His arm was splinted, his leg braced, his body a patchwork of bandages and bruises. But he was alive.  

Alive.  

The word echoed in her skull like a mantra.  

She pushed off the wall, her exhaustion forgotten, and crossed the distance between them in quick strides.  

“Don’t move,” she ordered, her voice low but firm as she pressed a hand against his shoulder to keep him down.

Jayce blinked up at her, his gaze hazy with pain and whatever concoction the medics had forced into him. But even through the fog, she saw the flicker of recognition; the way his expression softened, just slightly, when he saw her.  

“Mel,” he murmured. Her name again, like it was the only word he knew.  

She exhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus. “You’re an idiot.”  

A weak laugh escaped him, followed by a wince. “Yeah. I know.”  

Something else coiled tight in her chest. Something she didn’t dare name. “You scared me,” she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them.  

Jayce stilled. His eyes—warm, golden, too damn honest—searched hers.  

“I didn’t mean to,” he said quietly.  

She knew that. Of course, she knew that. Jayce never meant to do any of the reckless, stupid, self-sacrificial things he did. That was the problem.  

“You never mean to,” she muttered.  

A beat of silence. Then-

“Are you okay?” He asked

The question caught her off guard. She stared at him.  

“Am I okay?” she repeated, incredulous.  

Jayce had a broken arm, a leg that had barely healed before being reinjured, and enough bruises to make a medik weep. And he was asking her if she was okay?  

He didn’t back down. Just held her gaze, waiting.  

Mel swallowed.  

No. She wasn’t okay.  

Her mother was dead. The city was in ruins. The war they’d thought was over had left scars that would never fully heal. But she couldn’t say that. Not now. Maybe not ever.  

So she did what she always did. She straightened her shoulders, lifted her chin, and lied.  

“I’m fine.”  

Jayce’s expression flickered. He knew. Of course, he knew. Mel looked away.

Somewhere in the infirmary, a clock ticked. The sound was too loud, too deliberate, marking seconds she didn’t want to count.  

Jayce shifted, his breath hitching as he tried to sit up.  

Mel’s hand pressed him back down. “I said, don’t move.”  

He grimaced but obeyed, sinking back into the cot. “You’re not fine,” he murmured.  

Her fingers twitched against his shoulder. “And you’re not invincible.”  

Another weak laugh. “Never said I was.”  

She wanted to snap at him. Wanted to demand why he’d been on that roof in the first place, why he kept throwing himself into the fray like he had nothing left to lose. But the words died before they could form, because she already knew all of those answers.  

“You should rest.”  

Jayce’s gaze didn’t waver. “So should you.”  

That was impossible for her. It would be impossible for a while.

But she didn’t say that either. Instead, she let her hand linger on his shoulder a while longer, feeling the warmth of him through the thin fabric of the infirmary gown. Alive. Solid. Here.

“I’ll rest when you do,” she said finally.  

Jayce studied her, his eyes too knowing, too pained. Then, with effort, he lifted his uninjured arm—just enough to brush his fingers against hers. A quiet offering. A silent promise.  

Mel didn’t pull away.  

Outside, the first light of dawn crept through the stained-glass windows, painting the room in fractured hues of gold and crimson. The city would wake soon. There would be speeches to give, decisions to make, and a future to rebuild from the ashes.  

But for now—just for now—they stayed like that.  

Breathing.  

Alive.  

Together.

— — — — — —

It took a long time for Piltover to get even somewhat organised. First came the funerals. The skies burned with the endless flutter of paper slips, each one carrying a name, a memory, a life cut short. The pyres turned the air thick with smoke and the scent of ink and incense and for once, the divide between Piltover and Zaun seemed to blur—not out of progress, not out of understanding, but out of shared grief.

Mel hated it. The weight of it all pressed against her ribs like a stone. This was their peace? Forged in fire and blood, and the hollow silence left behind by thousands of voices snuffed out too soon?

Mel exhaled, slow and deliberate, her breath mingling with the smoke.

Jayce’s healing came after slowly, agonisingly so.

His leg had finally given up, refusing to do any more than it already had.

It wasn’t dramatic; No sudden collapse, no sharp cry of pain. Just a quiet, stubborn betrayal. One moment, he was standing, weight balanced carefully between the cane and his good leg. Next, his muscles locked, trembling with exhaustion, and his knee buckled like a rusted hinge.

Mel hated herself for not looking sooner.

She had known, in that vague, distant way one knows a storm is coming, seen the way he favoured his right side, the tightness around his eyes when he thought no one was watching. But there had been a war to fight, and he had brushed her off with a tired "It's fine," and she had let him. Now, guilt sat like a stone in her throat. She had loved him, and she hadn’t even looked.

Time passed, as it always did.

They talked—really talked—for the first time in what felt like eternity, over a chessboard that was a relic of simpler times, when their biggest concerns had been council debates and hextech prototypes.

Mel told him everything. The Black Rose, the kidnapping, how they had killed Elora, about seeing her brother. And he told her everything as well, the alternate universe, the ravine, the months of torture, what had happened with Viktor—(though there was no clear answer to that, Jayce just knew that the arcane had him now). All while black and white pieces glided across the board just as they used to before hell rained on them.

The chessboard between them was a relic of simpler times, when their biggest concerns had been council debates and hextech prototypes.

She softly set the queen down.  

“You should have told me. About the injury.” 

Jayce exhaled, rubbing his temple. “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”  

“Like what?”  

“Weak.”  

The word hung between them, bitter and brittle.  

Mel’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Surviving isn’t weakness.”  

Jayce’s fingers traced the edge of his knight, his gaze distant. “Feels like it.”  

She wanted to argue. Wanted to shake him until he understood that crawling out of hell wasn’t a failure—it was a victory. But the shadows under his eyes were too deep, his shoulders too hunched, and she knew words wouldn’t reach him. Not yet.  

So she moved her bishop instead. “Your turn.”  

Jayce blinked, then huffed a quiet, exhausted laugh. The game continued.  

— — — — — —  

The first time he walked with a crutch, Mel was there.  

It was a short distance—just from the workshop bench to the door—but his jaw was clenched tight, his knuckles white where he gripped the table for balance.  

Mel didn’t offer help. Didn’t hover. She just watched, arms crossed, as he took one step. Then another.  

When he made it to the door, sweat beading on his forehead, she allowed herself a small, proud smile. “Took you long enough.”  

Jayce shot her a look, but there was no real heat in it. Just exhaustion, and something that might have been relief. “Alright, alright.”  

She laughed.  

It was the first time in months that it didn’t feel forced.  

— — — — — —  

Mel hummed quietly as she painted, the brush moving in smooth strokes across the canvas. The late afternoon sun spilled through the tall windows of her studio, casting golden light over the half-finished portrait. It had been months since she had painted, but since everything was finally calming down, she had picked up her hobby again. 

Jayce was sitting beside her in an armchair, his legs propped up on a stool Mel had insisted on making sure he had, frowning down at a book he had picked up on her shelf.

His brow furrowed as he flipped another page, fingers tracing the words absently. The book—some dense work on Noxian architecture—wasn’t holding his attention, but the quiet rhythm of Mel’s humming and the soft scrape of her brush against canvas kept him anchored. He glanced up, watching her work.

She was focused, her eyes sharp with concentration, her lips pressed into a slight pout as she leaned forward to add a finer detail. The sunlight caught the gold in her hair, the elegant slope of her neck, the way her fingers moved with effortless precision.

Beautiful.

Mel paused, tilting her head as she studied her work. Then, sensing his gaze, she glanced over. “What?”

Jayce blinked, caught. “Nothing.”

She arched a brow. “You’re staring.”

“Am I?”

“Like a lost puppy.”

He snorted, shifting in the chair. His leg ached, but it was a dull, manageable throb now—nothing like the sharp, searing pain from before. “Maybe I’m just impressed.”

“By my artistic genius?”

“That, and by your ability to make paint look like it’s not just… paint.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance in it. “Eloquent as ever, Talis.”

He just smiled.

— — — — — —  

Their wedding was a simple affair. Just a few friends and allies as witnesses and an officiant who had known them through the best and worst of their years. The ceremony took place in the courtyard of the Talis estate, under the shade of an ancient oak tree, its branches heavy with leaves, dappling sunlight over the gathered guests.  

There were no grand processions, no extravagant decorations. Just the soft rustle of the wind, the distant hum of the city, and the quiet understanding between people who had fought too hard to ever need anything more than this.  

Jayce stood at the centre, dressed in a simple but finely tailored coat, his cane steady at his side. His leg still ached on bad days, but today—today, it didn’t matter.  

Caitlyn stood beside him in a sharp blue dress, her eyepatch swapped for one stitched with gold. She smirked as Jayce mangled his cufflinks for the third time.

“If you tear them off, you’ll have to get married without sleeves,” Caitlyn remarked dryly.  

Jayce shot her a look. “I’m fine.”  

“You’re sweating.”  

“It’s hot.”  

Cait chuckled. “Of course.”  

Before Jayce could retort, the small gathering quieted.  

And there she was.  

Mel wore a gown of bright gold. Her hair was loose, save for a few braids woven with delicate silver threads, and she carried no bouquet. Just her hands, steady and sure, clasped in front of her as she walked toward him.  

Jayce forgot how to breathe.  

She stopped before him, her dark eyes holding his, and for a moment, the world fell away.

The officiant spoke, but Jayce barely heard the words. He was too busy memorising the way the sunlight caught the gold in Mel’s eyes, the way her lips curved when she said I do, the way her fingers trembled—just slightly—when he slid the ring onto her hand.  

And when it was his turn, his voice didn’t shake.  

“I do.”  

No hesitation. No doubt.  

Then she kissed him, and the world came rushing back—not in noise, not in chaos, but in warmth. In light.

The reception was an even shorter event, mostly because Ximena spent half of it crying. Happy tears, of course. But still. A lot of them.

She clutched Jayce’s face between her hands, her thumbs swiping at his cheeks like he was still a boy showing her his first hammer. “Jayce, look at you,” she sniffed. “Alive. Married. Somehow.”

Jayce, trapped in her grip, shot Mel a pleading look.

Mel sipped her wine, unmoved. “You brought this on yourself.”

Ximena whirled on her next, pulling her into a crushing hug. “And you! My brilliant, terrifying daughter-in-law!”

Vi, watching from the sidelines, muttered to her girlfriend, “Should we… help?”

Caitlyn, who had met Ximena only a few times but was already aware of how she was, shook her head quickly. “Very bad idea.”

It took a long time before they could stumble back to their room and into bed.

— — — — — —  

They didn’t know it then, when they were sleeping off a day of wine and emotions, but years later, they would wake to the sound of laughter.

Their daughter, small and bright and impossibly loud, had decided to come barreling into their bedroom at dawn, demanding breakfast, demanding stories, demanding the world.  

Jayce groaned, rolling over to bury his face in the pillows, but Mel was already sitting up, reaching for their daughter with a sigh.  

“Alright, alright,” she murmured, scooping her up. “Let’s let your father sleep a little longer.”  

But Jayce was already pushing himself upright, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, his voice rough but warm. “No, it’s alright. I’m up.”  

Then he reached for them both, pulling them close, his laughter vibrating against Mel’s skin.  

And when Mel would go to the kitchen to start on breakfast, she would look at the painting still leaning against the wall in their hallway.  

Mel’s last unfinished work. A portrait of Jayce, bathed in golden light, his expression soft, his eyes alive with something like hope.  

She’d never gotten around to finishing it. But that was alright.  

Because every morning, when the sun shone in through the windows, she got to see the real thing instead. And that was much, much, better.  

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

Thank you to everyone who got me to 10000 likes!

:000

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

Mariana Renee

— BASIC INFO —

FULL NAME: Mariana 'Mare' Ivy Renee

NICKNAMES: Mare, Mari(exclusively used by Sam Wilson)

ALIASES: Nix, Nightmare

AGE: varies with timeline

BIRTHDATE: December 21

GENDER: Female, she/her, sometimes it/its

SEXUALITY: Unlabeled

ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Neutral

AFFILIATION: Formerly in the Daimones Organisation, Currently in New Avengers

SPECIES: Human with supernatural abilities

NATIONALITY: American

RELIGION: Non-practising

— APPEARANCE —

FACECLAIM: None yet

HAIR: White blonde

EYES: Heterochromatic blue and green eyes

SKIN: Pale, with a blueish tint

MARKINGS: Silver scarring across her face from her eyebrow to her jaw

— PERSONALITY —

VIRTUES: Unpredictable, Creative, Protective

VICES: Self-Loathing, Impulsive, Avoidant

LIKES: Stormy nights, painting, vintage horror films, bitter coffee

DISLIKES: Being called "crazy," hospitals, bright lights, loud noises

— POWERS & ABILITIES —

Can mimic abilities and weaponry, as long as she can see it visually(e.g. if she can see Sam Wilson's wings, she can use her powers to 'grow' her own, or if she sees Bucky Barnes stop a car with his strength, she can gain the same strength for as long as she can picture it)

Can expand/worsen injuries(e.g can turn something as small as a paper cut into a wound that could take your hand off)

Invisiblity. Can bend shadows to hide her and the others around her.

However, her powers are unpredictable at midnight and full moons. They are weaker during the day, and she prefers to not use them altogether.

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

Megan Danwill

— BASIC INFO —

FULL NAME: Megan Lorelai Danwill

NICKNAMES: Meg, Meggie, Sunshine

ALIASES: "Sunstrike" (among allies), "The Feared Golden" (among enemies), formerly "Nemesis" in the Daimones Organisation

AGE: Varies by timeline

BIRTHDATE: 21 June

GENDER: Female, she/her

SEXUALITY: Bisexual

ALIGNMENT: Lawful Neutral

AFFILIATION: Formerly in the Daimones Organisation, Avenger(both Old and New)

SPECIES: Demigod - Child of Apollo

NATIONALITY: American(Austin, Texas)

RELIGION: Hellenic Paganism; worships Thanatos, Aphrodite, and Odysseus

— APPEARANCE —

FACECLAIM: Riley Keough

HAIR: Brown

EYES: Deep-set blue eyes

SKIN: Golden, slightly tanned

MARKINGS: Gold scarring running across her chest and her back

— PERSONALITY —

VIRTUES: Disciplined, Protective, Loyal

VICES: Emotionally Reserved, Stubborn, Self-Sacrificing

LIKES: Sunlight, archery, old books, music, mythology.

DISLIKES: Deceit, manipulation, excessive darkness/shadow magic, feeling powerless.

— POWERS & ABILITIES —

Can absorb and weaponise sunlight, creating vines that form weapons and heal wounds.

Extremely skilled at archery; Never misses a shot when focused.

Faster healing than mortals.

Resistant to extreme heat.

Gold scars flare when injured, acting as a warning system.

However, her powers are finite at night and cannot be replenished until daytime, making it dangerous for her.

— BACKGROUND —

Coming later...

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

This was my first real fanfic (the first thing I wrote was technically Kiss Them Well, but nonetheless) and reading it back now, I can only imagine all the ways I can make it better! Starting with putting it all in the past tense lol.

I remember writing this on another account, which has long been deleted and being so nervous to post it, so it just sat private for a long time until I did. Then I made this account, deleted it from there and posted it here!

"Do You Want to Dance Too?"

[Bucky Barnes x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: After a very rare date with your boyfriend, it starts to rain and you two find yourselves stuck in a cafe with no way to get home without being soaked.

Warnings: none! Just fluff

Word Count: 1.1k words

(A/n: First attempt at a fanfic. I thought about this when I was trying to sleep and I really wanted to write it down.)

You curse under your breath as James and you quickly run to the small cafe at the end of the empty street. The rain started just a few moments ago, so it wasn't bad now, but you had a feeling it would only get worse.

You finally make it through the door, only slightly wet.

"Nice end to the day," he mumbles, clearly unhappy.

You sigh and take a seat at your usual table when Ella, a good friend of yours, pops up behind the counter.

"Well, this is a surprise," the barista says. "Thought I was finally going to be able to go through the whole day without you showing up."

"Ha ha," you muse, "Get us some hot chocolate."

She rolls her eyes but goes to make the order nonetheless.

James takes a seat next to you, glaring out the window as if that would stop the rain. The rain didn't take kindly to that as it starts a downpour, confirming your earlier suspicion.

He grumbles, and you take his hand in yours.

"Tonight was nice," you say gently.

"It could've been better."

You shake your head, "You can't control the weather, love."

But you could understand his frustration. You rarely got to spend much time together as it was.

You usually only see each other at night but by then are too exhausted to do anything other than eat and sleep.

James and you had started dating a few months ago, but you had known each other for years before then. You used to be an Avenger, but you quit after Steve left. First, it had been out of grief from your best friends; then it changed to you not wanting that kind of life anymore.

James was still very much in it—he was a soldier first, after all—and, as long as he didn't get himself killed, you were okay with that.

You unconsciously trace a small scar on his palm as Ella brings you the hot cocoas.

"Okay, here's the deal," she starts, "I have to close up in 45 minutes. You guys can stay to try to wait the rain out."

"Do you at least have an umbrella we can borrow?" you ask.

"Nope. I even gave mine to an old lady."

"And you can't let us stay?"

"Nada."

It's your turn to grumble, "Fine."

Ella shrugs, "I need to clean up," she says before making her leave.

James is still glaring out of the window when he suddenly turns his stare on you.

"This is why we should've taken the car," he concludes.

You are taken aback, "So it's my fault for suggesting that we walk for 20 minutes to the restaurant?"

"Guess so."

You scoff, "You are on very thin ice here, Barnes."

He raises an eyebrow, "Are you threatening me?"

"Guess so," you mimic.

"What are you going to do?" he asks, amused.

"Do you want to sleep on the couch?"

He scoffs at your threat but doesn't say anything else.

Smart man.

You sip your hot cocoas in silence.

Then, suddenly, you're laughing. James looks at you with an amused grin.

"I can make you sleep on the couch," you say, still giggling.

You poke his chest, and he starts laughing too.

"I know you can, dear. I know you can."

He grabs your chin with his right hand, tilting your head so you look him directly in the eye.

"What would I do without you?" he wonders out loud.

"It's too awful to think about," you joke.

He laughs again before pressing his lips against yours.

You sigh in the kiss. It's difficult to think you were once distrusting of the super soldier you had grown to love. Now you trusted him with everything you had and more.

It took a long time for you to see the ex-Winter Soldier's true nature. His gentle, shy yet annoyingly protective nature.

Too long.

He breaks off the kiss with a small smile.

"We should finish the hot cocoa before it gets cold," James suggests.

"Hot cocoa is more important than kissing your girlfriend?" you pout.

He shrugs, "It's good hot chocolate."

You don't deny his statement.

It's your turn to look out of the window. As rain bangs on the roof and glass of the small cafe, it seems to play out a rather aggressive tune. You don't like when it rains. It brings back rather painful memories, but you've learned that countering the bad memories with good ones helps make peace with the pain caused in a moment.

That gives you an idea.

"Do you want to sprint for it now?" you ask randomly.

The super soldier nearly spits out his cocoa, "What?"

"It's probably only gonna get worse, and we are going to have to eventually."

"Do you want to dance too?" he says sarcastically.

Your eyes light up at the idea, "Can we?"

James' eyes widen, "I meant it as a joke."

"But why not? It's as cliche as dancing in the apartment," you point out, "Besides, it'll be fun."

He shakes his head, "We are not dancing in the rain."

"But—"

"It's way too cold, and the last time you got sick, you couldn't get out of bed for a week."

You try to hide your wince by pouting, "Fine. No dancing."

He sighs, "But maybe we should go soon. It does look like it's going to get worse."

"So let's go then."

~~~

"Wait up!"

James' voice is nearly lost in the rain. You keep running, knowing full well he could catch up with you within a minute.

Or maybe he couldn't. You are pretty fast.

You laugh into the wind, your mouth filling with water as the painfully large raindrops hit your face.

You sprint in the direction you think is your house and try to calm the leather jacket that James gave you by wrapping it around your torso.

While doing so, you accidentally stumble on your feet and go flying forward.

Strong arms wrap around you within a moment, one made out of a now freezing metal.

"I got you," Bucky assures, "I got you."

You hear him loud and clear now despite his voice barely being above a whisper. The drumming of rain seems like an irrelevant background noise.

You turn to him, grinning like an idiot. His hair is stuck to his face. He shakes his head at you but is unable to hide his own smile.

No words need to be exchanged in the moment as his hands rest on your waist, and your arms loop around his neck.

You look at James with possibly all the love you hold and softly press your lips against his. It is easy to forget everything with him, even easier to forget the bad things.

He puts his arm on your neck and pulls away. "You're going to get sick."

"I've accepted it," you confess quickly, chasing his lips.

He shakes his head again but lets you kiss him regardless.

You got sick for a week afterward, but it was well worth it. Especially when you had James looking after you.

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

Original Characters

Marvel

Megan Danwill - Main

Mariana 'Mare' Renee - Main

Kristina Renee

Isha Tyler

Kayne Andrews

Other Characters

Tags in order: 🌻 | 🌑 | 👗 | 📚 | 👑 | ⭕

Others

Allison Winters - The Blacklist - Main

Olivia Raphael - Resident Evil

Landon - The Maze Runner

Tags in order: ❄ | 💉 | 📌

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

Please a Joaquin Torres × girlfriend shy!reader with weather powers if that's alright with you?Joequin, shy!reader and Sam are flying around.

https://youtu.be/D3VHEvsr5As?si=zTBF93YOcvdG09cp

"Cloud Nine"

[Joaquin Torres x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Warnings: None. Just pure fluff

Summary: You join Sam and Joaquin for a flight

Warnings: None! Pure fluff

Word Count: 460 words

A/N: guess who's back!! sorry this took so long, I finished it a while back but couldn't bring myself to post it.

Sam flew ahead, his wings smooth against the bright blue sky. Joaquin followed, his own wings buzzing. You floated behind them, cheeks warm, your shoes barely touching the fluffy clouds below. The breeze around your ankles hummed in response to your pulse, playful and warm.

"Don't fall behind!" Sam called over his shoulder, grinning. "The clouds won't bite."  

You flushed. Right. Focus. You willed yourself forward, the air currents lifting you higher. Your hands glowed faintly, a soft shimmer that rippled outward, steadying the wind beneath your feet.

Joaquin slowed, falling back to glide beside you. "Hey," he said, voice warm even through the rush of air. "You good?"

You nodded, eyes fixed on the horizon. Liar. A rogue gust ruffled his hair, and Joaquin chuckled.

"Y'know," he said, flying to mirror your path, "If you're trying to mess up my hair, just ask." Despite yourself, you snorted. The clouds ahead brightened, sunlight breaking through.

Sam glanced back, eyebrows raised. "Careful, Joaquin. If she actually tries to blow you away, I'm not catching you."

"You'd let me fall? Harsh, Cap." Joaquin shot him a mock-pout before turning back to you. "But seriously—you're killing it. Even the sky's showing off for you."

"Th-thanks," you mumbled, cheeks pink. The clouds blushed with you, tinged pink.

Joaquin's grin widened. "Okay, that's awesome." He swooped closer, his shoulder brushing yours. "Can you make rainbows? Or—wait—a tiny tornado? Sam! Can she make a tiny tornado?"

You giggled. Sam glanced back. "Don't encourage her to break the atmosphere, Torres."

Joaquin winked at you, ignoring him. "Rainbows would be awesome. Or a tiny storm!" He swooped closer, his shoulder bumping yours gently. "Can you make it snow? Right now? Just a little?"  

You bit your lip, thinking. The air around you swirled, and soft snowflakes fluttered around you both. Joaquin laughed, catching one. "See? You're amazing!"  

You laughed then, bright and sudden, and the sky burst into a false sunset—red, pink, and orange, taking over the sky. Sam shook his head, muttering something about 'showing off,' but you caught his smile.

Joaquin hovered beside you, quiet for once. "You should do that more often," he said softly.

"Make… fake sunsets?"

"Smile," he corrected. The earnestness in his voice made your stomach flip. A breeze swept between you, carrying the scent of distant rain and his cologne—something citrus and warm.

Sam sighed. "Alright, lovebirds. Let's land before I forget how gravity works."  

Joaquin rolled his eyes but winked at you. "Race you to the ground?"

You hesitated, then nodded, letting the wind surge beneath you, not to flee, but to fly. Together.

Both of you dove.

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

looking so handsome for a man who's old enough to be everyone's great-grandfather <3

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

I've seen people's takes on what Bucky's rooms would be, and all of the. are fantastic, but I saw this one theory in Tiktok that it would be his sister and I'm stuck on it, on his family. Imagine if his room is saying goodbye to his sister before heading to war, not knowing it was the last time? Maybe it was little him protecting his sister from seeing their mother dying. Or him getting the news that his father was killed. Just something from his childhood, which isn't talked about nearly enough, by the movies and fandom alike.

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

I have watched Thunderbolts*!! It was amazing, and did live up to the hype I was hearing. I'm so glad for that to be honest, I was worried.

Deciding against opening requests because I don't have the time for it, but I do have fic ideas and I cannot wait to share them.