#just a little something to finally get this rolling… perhaps james in recovery next?

[gildedlife]

@inrovina.

‘ they’ve decided to send me to the arctic. ’ it’s the first time james has said this aloud, to anyone, though he’s known for a few days and should already have begun making arrangements. it sinks like a stone, though he’s made an effort to deliver it like something to be waved off, moved past quickly.

he slumps farther into the couch next to xeno, pretending to pay attention to what’s on the screen before them. he won’t look at him, fearing he’ll find some weight in his gaze he isn’t prepared to shoulder.

‘ a promotional thing. ’ a photo op. ‘ must’ve forgotten i’ve aged since my last—adventure. ’ this, too, he tries to make sound like it’s less important; like his physical condition matters as little to him as it does to the company shipping him out. ‘ feels a little… rushed, i suppose. ’

[blankdblank]

Brother Dearest Pt 54

English Composition, Trigonometry, Calculus, Astronomy, Sociology and Rhetoric filled your Tuesday roster of classes ended with you in your mother’s old chair lounging while you drafted up more of the first papers due soon then slept to follow the list of classes for your Wednesday line up complete with a stop in your Photography club. Soon enough a week had gone by and Saturday morning you sat up in wait for your appointment with Herc later today.

Since after Mass the prior Wednesday evening in a stare at the tv set across a legal pad sat diagrams for a new set that even had the guys in their continued paths through between offers of snacks and daily pears admiring the puzzling designs. Several parts and pieces you couldn’t even find in the books available to the public that had Elliot on his latest trip to your place in an amazed look over the pages he flipped through to your anxious stare. “This is impressive, and you dreamed all of this up?”

You nodded in his glance up, “We watched the night broadcast on the storm front last week and then when I woke up those were in my head.”

His grin spread, “Well this is a very good sign. Makes the sets available to the public infantile by comparison. Have you considered manipulation of materials yet?”

“I made a screw, like thing,” you said in lifting the half metal and glass like corkscrew shaped item you were a bit timid to show him, “But it doesn’t feel like any metal or glass I’ve felt before.”

Slid forward he claimed hold of the item and smiled at it in awe turning it this way and that, “Very impressive. Manipulation is quite impossible to master, only five of our brothers were able to even attempt it and only Erich was able to master it, part of why I imagine you chose him for your Second and guardian of your essence. Is this all you have created?”

“Outside of babies, ya,” that had him chuckle to himself, “Had to sleep nearly half a day after that.”

“Yes, it can be quite draining from what I hear. Chaos magic has a weight to it. This, much like a tube for the tv set you have over there is used to harness the image. However this is much more powerful and by this design you can harness solar power to load up the wave converter box, which I can imagine for you will be the most enjoyable to make.”

“Is it all going to have to be made by manipulation? Or can we find parts here on this planet?”

“The casing and some of the more simplistic materials, screws and brackets and of course the wooden box casing could be certainly. While the aspects that power and shift and project the image onto the screen must be from materials either you manipulate or we can bribe to be smuggled off of Asgard.”

“I can imagine Odin will be pleased to have us bribing his gate keeper to build myself a television set.”

Again he chuckled and replied, “Heimdall will not require bribes.”

“Not that we have his currency anyways.”

“You are learning,” he replied, “This time of growth will aid greatly in your remembrance.”

“Ah, yes, my awakening.”

“Not exactly, have to spark the memory first, then you can pave the way to awakening. The journals are helping to show you through time and spark your imagination and memory.”

“So, maybe five television sets then I can wake up?”

Again he chuckled, “Perhaps we can expand your horizons for topics of projects to keep your mind exercised.” The doorbell rang and he smiled stating, “That must be Herc.”

“Ooh, I’ll get the tea,” you said to the whine of the kettle that had him help you up to fetch it to pour for him to Eddie’s fetch of the door to let him in to join Ambrose in the living room for the weekly check up for the both of you. Back again mentally pushing the rolling cart you returned with Teddy on your hip after having helped him fix up some sliced fruit and cheese to go with your bowls of pickled beets and baby carrots.

Victor chuckled crossing your path accepting hold of Teddy, “Come on Teddy, let’s get back to your spot and watch aunt Bunny get her check up.”

Gladly to the excited wiggle of his sister on a padded quilt on the floor still goading her body in rocks back and forth on all fours on her way to the early stages of crawling beside Leanora on her back more concerned with the toy pinned between her feet that learning to move on her own at the moment Teddy sat on Victor’s lap on the chair closest to Leanora. James already in the living room fixed up your pillows again and moved the notes and part you had made aside to help serve out the tea and snacks so he could nestle you back into your seat.

Dawn from the other room asked, “Has anyone seen my coin purse?”

Eddie upon his return said with a grin, “You left it in the kitchen by your purse.” That had her let out a puff of air and smooth a hand over her clammy forehead, “You don’t need it you need to be in bed.”

Dawn replied, “I need something to do.”

Eddie, “You’ve already given your flu to Norma now you get your butt back in bed and I will bring you some soup.”

Dawn said, “I did not give-,”

Eddie sighed and turned to scoop her up in his arms and carry her back to bed, “Honestly Sweetheart you can be so stubborn sometimes. Now get back in bed and stay there the stew and rice will be finished in a little bit. Don’t make me lock the door.”

Her grumble was heard on the staircase and you chuckled to yourself and said to Herc, “Sorry, Dawn’s got the flu, been hard to hold down. We don’t catch it but it has made Norma miserable.”

Herc chuckled and said, “Not a problem, and if you like we could give you some ground herbs to aid in their recovery from our people easy to mix in with tea or coffee to build up their immune systems. We often give it to our mortal allies through our lifetimes here. To lessen what suffering we can.”

Victor asked, “Will it make them get better quickly?”

Elliot, “Oh yes, by tomorrow at the earliest, two days depending on how early in the progression we have caught it.”

Ambrose sighed, “Well that will be used often as my boys keep passing their colds and flu’s around.”

Herc smirked and said, “I can offer monthly supplies of herbal vitamins for them if that will improve their odds of staving off this pesky cold your planet has invented.”

“Are you telling me the common cold is native to our planet?” you asked with a smirk.

Elliot, “Oh yes, and quite debilitating to a fair bit of races. While the mortals have built up a way to trudge through it, quite impressive. Most planets eradicate bacteria all together while the intestines and stomach are just a few of the locations of the human body that create habitats for strains that help to keep their bodies healthy to stave off worse strains from the world around us. Ingenious, bit mad, but ingenious.”

James, “And Jaqi won’t get sick at all?”

Herc shook his head, “There are few substances strong enough to debilitate her healing abilities and all of those are for purposes of our race.”

Victor, “What purpose could that be?”

Herc, “Labor, for one. Not in the sense she wouldn’t heal but to grant pain relief. Though it is a heavy sedative, the other two are more hallucinogenic to lower consciousness of pain to keep you awake but, mellow.”

“Like laughing gas?”

Herc, “Yes, but stronger. Most likely for labor we will give you the latter for the birth and the former for recovery to allow you rest.”

“How’d you manage to discover those medicines? Even morphine couldn’t last longer than a few seconds in my bloodstream in the war.”

Herc paused a moment then said, “Well, you gave them to us, taught us to grow them and how to harvest and mix them with the first of us. You will remember. Time has written about your studies of medicine for our race.” You nodded then he said after accepting his tea, “For now, any discomfort?”

“Not particularly, though I did get a rather rude kick to my bladder last night and nearly made a puddle on the way to the toilet.”

Ambrose chuckled knowing the bladder wars well along with Herc who set down his cup and moved to take hold of one of your feet to begin the exam there. “I wish I could aid in that, however, toes to head so you can snack and calm your girls a bit.”

A little bit beyond the basic feels of your belly and back a few feels around your ribs came before the final neck to jaw checks that had his grin spread in saying, “Perfect health. How are your skin allergies holding up?”

“Still get a few red patches from perfumes from some of the ladies at school. But lotion at home tends to fix that.”

Herc, “Honey based?”

You nodded, “Dawn’s family makes it.”

Herc, “Very good, honey is very soothing for our expecting mothers. Even some in your tea or some honey based lozenges could help while you are at school if it grows too bothersome.”

“Not to bad, just mainly in my Lit class, there’s a whole group that seem to just exhale lavender. Close to when I go home.”

Elliot, “I could possibly persuade a few young ladies to avoid the scent.”

You smirked his way, “We don’t need to go to that extreme. Can’t blank out the whole plant from the planet.”

Elliot chuckled to Eddie’s saying from his spot with Teddy now on his lap to share the snacks, “Oh I bet they could if they tried.”

Herc, “Quite a common ailment for all our brothers on this planet. Though a few centuries of exposure has built up a minor tolerance to the plant. Yet, honey has aided in our tolerance. When our brothers arrive a great many colonies of bees will be bred to aid in the exposure ailments of those who have little tolerance from no prior experience on this planet.”

Victor said, “Jimmy used to get the worst of spring every time it came around until we managed to coax him to eat honey on his rolls. Local pollen from the hives nearby helps.”

Herc grinned and said in the production of his stethoscope for the lung and heart check before the girdle scanner, “If you change your mind let us know.”

“Hard to imagine,” you said to his switch from a listen of one lung to the next, “Tear planes out of the sky but a tiny flower can take me out.”

Herc chuckled to Eddie’s saying, “Everyone has a weakness. All the best heroes do.”

You nodded and asked, “Do you think I’d be more likely for a natural birth?” His eyes snapped to yours and Eddie’s lips parted to James’ hand smoothing across your back showing you’d had this worrisome conversation before. “By my progress so far, do you think?”

Herc gave you a kind grin and answered, “Caesareans as the mortals call them are quite common amongst our people. I could give you an answer now and most likely be proven wrong for how the labor develops. Though I assure you were we have to handle the labor apart from the natural breathe and push method you are in the safest hands, especially should Eric and Sarah be present. I will warn you either way you will require a break of rest. Which you are greatly due for.”

Ambrose asked, “From it being triplets?”

Herc nodded, “Mainly yes, however there is a drastic recovery for our birthing mothers.”

“How drastic?” James asked.

Elliot said, “Where mortal mothers gradually lose the birth weight within an hour roughly Jaqi should be back to her former size. The shock can be rather upsetting to mothers especially in their first birth. My wife barely spoke at all to me for three days afterwards.”

Herc said, “The response varies, however merely prepare to be at rest for a time afterwards, that mentality of an upcoming rest can be calming for some mothers, especially with multiples. And much like when you have lost a limb before while there is rapid regrowth should we operate we will ensure your daughters are all within sight while the change occurs. We have learned that lesson of distance being discouraged for a steadying moment after birth by a few very upset mothers.”

Victor, “The drugs, made them think they imagined the pregnancy?”

Herc nodded, “Something like that.” Earning a round of calming nods to the problems your birth might entail. “However, I am certain with all of us around the trio can be cared for along with Mother while she recovers her strength.”

Ambrose asked, “Did you want us to come out or do you think you would want the quiet away from the kids?”

“I don’t really know how I will handle the long drive back again to Canada, I’d hate to put you through that ordeal with your owl girl you have a system worked out and I know you like your space after. You shouldn’t have to fawn over me, I’ve got the guys for that.”

Making them smirk your way and her nod and say, “You do have a point. At the very least we can visit with Father Thomas for a joint christening for our girls.” She looked to Herc asking, “Is there a better way to get her to Canada if she can’t handle the long drive?”

Herc nodded, “Absolutely. We can use our mist gateways to travel through which is quite safe for expecting mothers. Quick and painless we can cut the travel time, middle of the night you get to a bridge and we can drop you on the long tree lined road just outside of your town up there.”

Victor, “Be a good change, especially since we haven’t picked a car yet for when the girls are here, truck won’t be big enough for all of you soon.”

Ambrose smirked saying, “Oh don’t you worry on the car, our family is picking something top of the line like we did for when Teddy was born.” You sighed and she smiled at you with a pat of her hand on yours widening the mens’ smiles around you, “You need something safer than a truck for your girls to travel in, just finishing up the paint job last I heard.” You sighed and she said, “Cars are a given from us.”

Belly scans to supper and the first dose of medicine was given to the ailing mothers who would indeed feel better the following day and both sit excitedly with you through the first bout of crawling that Marigold took with some goading from her big brother fully recorded on film by both you and Victor.

.

20 weeks along and in your third week of classes the first of your private study time in the library found you at a comfortable table in a corner near to the section of books you had scanned for any titles that you had yet to read. On the other side of the section you could clearly hear a group of pre-law students who were locked in a sort of prep debate that seemed to be a losing battle. The argument however had you turn your head and sigh softly in a scoot of your chair back to ease up to your feet and halfway across the room you stopped at the directory. With ease from the drawers you pulled out simple flicks of fingers brought out the first card that onto the pad of paper atop the wooden directory you used the pen there to copy the details of the book then put the card back to pull out another drawer and find a second card to copy that as well. Smoothly you strolled back to your section and then passed it to approach the table of bickering students who relented to irritated huffs and looked up at you with curiously raised brows.

Onto the table you set the sheet as they all had their hands full of notes and books they were drawing arguments from. “This will help. First one talks about the contract clauses you were referring to. The numbers underneath is the page then paragraph. And if whoever you are bickering against brings up Malone vs Tumnson that verdict was overturned 15 years ago with an undertone of profiteering by extortion. It’s noted in the second book.” On your feet you turned while the closest student lifted the sheet, “happy arguing,” you said and went back to your seat. Into which once you settled back again while they had looked over the now torn sheet two of them were off to fetch the books they returned with the books they each read over aloud then paused. A silence that had the hair on the back of your neck shift to the known feeling of the table looking in your direction.

All at once on their feet around the table they all walked around the shelves to your table where they saw you look up from the book in your hands. “How did you know about these?”

“I’ve read every law book in the New York City Public Library.”

Another asked, “Every book?”

You nodded, “I didn’t have many friends aside from the Brocks who adopted me.”

One of them nodded and after a moment of pursed lips asked for your opinion on what book could help him on his own prompt that led you to write him a note on a spare sheet of paper you handed him stirring up a round of questions to get more help from your wealth of knowledge. Then each darted off to get back to sleuthing for what else they would need.

Left to your notes again you read through and returned each of your chosen books ignoring the newspaper in your bag that bore headlines that Princess Elizabeth was pregnant and dared to stir up comments that you were jealous of that status. Two more trips to fetch book finished off your free period and then off you went to your next class once each book was returned to its proper home.

Notes copied in their next class for the missed lab were handed over by your lab partners to you in passing. Though it really didn’t matter as the next Chemistry class again in the library where on your way to the same table you spotted General Eisenhower alongside a larger group of pre-law students, each of whom you looked over wondering what they were up to aside from possibly asking for help with their study group references. “Hello General.”

With his grin he replied, “Hello Corporal. I overheard from a few of our Law Professors how you helped some of their students with their case arguments for the lead up debates to the mock court sessions beginning next week.”

“I did,” you replied.

The General said in a notice of the approaching Law Professors who head the mock court sessions, “Well then we have an offer for you to fill up your private studies schedule. Normally amongst our pool of pre-law students we divide them into groups for four cases, Defense and Prosecution and for our best student we grant the position of Judge with the remainder chosen as the jury pool. Although it would seem this year like the last we are in need of a neutral party as the former class was unable to avoid being swayed to side with their friends no matter how convincing the arguments of the opposing party. Would you be willing to assist us? You would be fully credited for the role.”

“I suppose, how often are the cases?” You said in a combination of curiosity and a loss for how to refuse.

His grin eased out wider, “Same dates as your free classes. We will keep the schedules to that time parameter and the cases will not last a full month each, we will be ensuring neither side stalls for time. To ensure the defense is granted a speedy trial as per their rights. Two cases the first month and two more the next. They will be fully followed by the journalism students and Columbia’s Paper. Since you are not versed in courtroom etiquette I will be sitting next to you as a sort of voice of experience if you do get stumped on anything as I am somewhat versed as a Judge and have seen a fair share of Court Martial cases in my time.” A book on etiquette was handed to you and he continued, “The week before your first two cases you will be given your supply of evidence and the file pertaining to the cases. All of which has been drafted by the visiting Lawyers who will be observing the court proceedings to aid our students in their paths onwards in their studies for their degrees.”

“Okay. Happy to help.”

“I hoped you’d say that.” One of the Law Professors stated.

.

“Hey handsome,” you giggled in James’ place at the bench halfway to the stairs from the car who wrapped you in a warm excited hug.

“Hello my Darling,” he locked eyes with Elliot in his own grin for your meeting, “Meetings and teacher politics not getting to you yet?” He asked in the blind acceptance of your armful of books, one book heavier that had him glance down at the book on courtroom etiquette then back up to the Professor again when he spoke.

“Not too terrible yet. Though there are whispers that prep for the Easter topics are to begin to be ready in time, as if they won’t just do the same as they’ve always done.” His smirk spread to James’ excited smile your way, “You seem to be holding in some news.”

James chuckled at your curious smirk up at him and replied, “Jaqi got a set of trunks from Spain, and a thick letter as well.”

“I don’t know anyone in Spain, do any of our people live in Spain?” You asked Elliot who shook his head.

“No. There is one just past Uraguay, but last I heard from his letters he said he was off to the Brazilian rainforests on an expedition of some traces of one of your lifetimes.”

You nodded and asked, “Well are you free and up for an adventure?”

That widened his smile and James’, “Thank you I would adore a chance to explore with you. And I speak and read various forms of Spanish if you require translations.”

“There’s more than one? Like French French and French Canadian?”

“Oh yes, not to mention Creole, which in Louisiana is a variation of French as well to an extent.”

Before you could ask in your turn James said, “We can’t go to Louisiana, me and Vic are still wanted there.” Your brow inched up and he flashed you a grin, “We um, blew up some buildings in the Civil War to track down a relative of a friend serving with us. I know they’re dead, but, some places still have our wanted posters on display.”

“I don’t,” you said in a shake of your head and he cut you off.

“Four of them were banks, you remember that guy who you asked if he was following us down in Texas?” You nodded, “He tried to corner me and Vic on your school tour trip. We hit a lot of banks, he wanted to ask where the money went. Had to make a few calls to make him leave.”

“If you just blew them up why would he think you had,” your lips parted to his smile that flinched wider a moment anxiously, and you asked softer, “You robbed banks too?”

“Hit a rough patch, after Xander.” He inhaled sharply then said, “But we didn’t keep it, drank it away, bought out some slave auctions to smuggle up North, but don’t worry, don’t have a cent of it now so it can’t hurt us.”

You pointed at him a moment then shook your head and curled the finger back and turned to the car, “Just when I was getting used to you’re being hired as a grave robber.”

He looked to Elliot and said, “We worked with Archeologists on digs.”

Elliot nodded mid chuckle, “Yes, I’ve seen you two in a few pictures, I’ve been collecting them. To go in our records.” James stepped back and opened the car door for you and Elliot said, “I’ll get my car and be right behind you.”

James nodded and looked to you in your ease down into the car he closed and hurried around to climb inside and fire up again with a timid grin. “Are you mad?”

You glanced at him and shook your head with a grin, “Just, bit of an odd day to hear you robbed banks.”

He shifted on the seat to ask, “Odd how?”

“Well the General found me in the library,” that had him nod, “And he asked if I would sit as Judge for the law students’ mock trials. Apparently there’s four trials and the top students are attorneys, the rest are witnesses, defendants and jurors. There will be a retired cop group for the bailiff and guards and actual attorneys sitting to judge the whole thing.”

“Why you? I love you, but why you? Clearly you aren’t in their classes.”

“Well I helped some guys the other day with their arguments and they told their Professors I’ve read all the law books in the Public Library and the General heard and he’s seen some Court Martials so he’s acting as my sort of buffer if I need help with something and gave me a book to read on how to act and procedure and all that.”

He nodded and said, “Well I’m sure you’ll be fantastic. Are you excited?”

“Um, I don’t know. They’ve scheduled the court sessions on my new study breaks and even the journalism students will be there to write all about it.” He nodded and turned to get you home at the mild shiver you fought back to get you home to the warm house to open your mystery trunks. “Apparently past few years they couldn’t get the top student to not side towards his friends or against those he doesn’t like so they wanted a neutral party I think they asked the General first and I was a convenient person to hand it over to.”

“Well if you change your mind just let them know.”

You nodded and asked, “Did you ever knock over any stage coaches or rob any trains or any other big heists I should know about?”

“Best you don’t know,” he hummed in a grin your way to your playfully challenging smirk, “Plausible deniability.”

.

“Ok,” you said in a content sigh settled into your mother’s chair, “I’m sitting down.” You said accepting he letter that Victor handed to you after having insisted that you sit first after the long day at school while his other hand lifted your legs for the footrest James brought over for you. “Hmm,” you said eyeing the front of the letter that was styled familiarly to how King George’s letters usually came.

Turning it over you eyed the wax seal there that had Elliot say, “That’s the seal of the Monarch of Spain.”

Once broken and lifted the flap was peers under and gently you pulled the folded pages out that you unfolded to read the top page after a clearing of your throat to the excited crowd of family around you.

“Baroness Jaqiearae Pear Howlett, we have not been formerly introduced. And I do hope you will not take this as forward of me however there is a new discovery of mine that I have wished to share with you since the first time I had seen your image in the photographs of the first meeting of you and His Highness King George VI. For a great many years I lived in Italy to focus upon my education prior to my having succeeded the Crown of Spain, and whilst there there is one figure that ages back to the very beginnings of my country.

The Queen of the Hare, for many nations all through Central and Southern America this figure exists and often in several places recorded at one time. Proof enough for some to have labeled her as a myth others used the name of to amass great fortunes and power amongst those they live in the same territories. All of them named Jaqiearae and described exactly the same as my Ambassador had described you upon his meeting you at the wedding of Princess Elizabeth of England with an affection for rabbits in one form or another.

The greatest in power, unlike the others, of which being the tales from my homeland of Spain. Said to have once been able to in a lift of her hand force an entire fleet of soldiers to strip them of their armor and weapons and in a cloud likened to a colorful starry sky fog they were off the shores and back on their ships that began to sail away from the shore. Eventually our King of old wished to have that devotion from those who in his ear whispered of plots to possibly overthrow him and put her in his place ordered her to be executed only to find her home empty upon arrival save for a symbol etched into the door.

Similar actions to those from central and Southern America from my studies and continuing even on further several kingdoms throughout Europe have similar tales with the same symbol and unreadable runes. All of which end in the same mysterious flight from all rumored to be directed towards Ireland, from where your family hails, to join the Pagans and to our people’s belief to spurn the advances of the British to claim their lands as long as possible.

Concerning the trunks, I have included a detailed list of how the documents inside are arranged. Including several letters in communications between various Kings and Queens with various Popes and religious figures to aid in overthrowing the assumed Witch ensnaring their people’s minds. While for others had been deemed a benevolent Goddess healing those brought to her with mystical powers unrivaled and unexplainable to even be able to bring those back from the very brink of death itself. All of which are amongst copies of documents both translated and not along with photographs of sketches and portraits of the varied women using the name. This is all I have acquired in my years of study into this myth that have been aided by copies from other countries to aid in possibly filling in some family history for you since I have been informed you were orphaned young and might have lost a great chunk of that lineage to have been shared with you as you grew.

My people were very disheartened to have heard of the stories being published concerning your health and know that you have been in our prayers wishing that those stories are false and you will be granted a great many children whenever God deems you and the Baron ready to welcome them. As always you will have a fond place within our hearts as the hopeful descendant of our cherished Queen of the Hare and know that when ready we will welcome you with open arms in a tour of Spain including the castle which your ancestor built herself.”

A moment you paused to giggle then say, “And it goes without saying none here will hold you responsible for any of the supposed crimes committed by the magnanimous Queen no matter how uncanny the resemblance or similarly brilliant mind capable of the same miraculous ability to protect those they cherish.” Making the others chuckle before you said, “Signed, Juan Carlos the first, Monarch of Spain.”

James teased, “So we’re not the only criminals of the family.”

That made you smirk back and then roll your eyes to Eddie’s saying, “Anything but a life of crime would never suit us misfits.”

“Just goes to prove I am not the voice of reason some people assume in our bunch.”

Victor chuckled and asked, “Which case first?”

You glanced over the second page and said, “The one from, Japan is in the hat box shaped one.”

Victor hummed amusedly, “You were in Japan? Wonder when.” He lifted the box and peered inside saying, “All in Japanese. We can translate those later for you.”

“Um, Czechoslovakia, Sweden and Norway are in the briefcase one underneath that. Egypt, Italy, Greece, and Ireland are in the smaller chest, with the copies of what he’s gathered from England’s records as well. Just leaving the large trunk for South America.”

Elliot nodded and said, “Well I can get started on the large trunk, browse through what he has gathered.”

You nodded and said, “I guess I’ll check out the briefcase one, since it’s the smallest collection.” James and Victor brought it over and from the top down you began to read the top page of the first paper folder bound with twine on the stack of more bound stacks that filled the box and named the order the history was complied.

Elliot however drew your gaze by his saying, “These are Royal Record copies. Not available to the non-noble born historians. No telling what’s in these.” More amused by the secrecy of it all while you smirked and unwound the folder that while he began to use his own golden pen and a legal pad from a stack of spares to translate the first document while you turned through the stack of papers you would need to translate later from translation guides the guys would pick up for you off the list they were making and stopped to each photograph of various photographs and diagrams and sketches throughout. By the fifth folder you had to take a break and move to have the dinner that had finished cooking where you said, “It could take us years to go through all this.”

Elliot said, “I could call the twins to stay with me.”

Dawn asked, “The twins?”

Elliot glanced between you and said, “Oh, yes, they live out in Maine, mostly hermits but they have a good deal of money to live off of from several sound investments over the years. While we work they could translate the documents.”

“Wouldn’t that be bordering on abuse of power? To have them translate everything for us?”

That had him chuckle and say, “The pair of them together aided in the formation of the Oxford Dictionaries and translation guides to several languages both dead and still kicking. They compile all of our discoveries into the directory vaults we have. Trust me, they are starving for information like this and much like the scans for your children the information will be compiled in holograms as well within our system for easy travel between locations and events. Even be able to show you pinpoints on maps for events to show where you were focused and then perhaps when they are done we might know why you chose now to come back and be solid again. We’ve already deduced James and Victor had to be in Canada before that big meteor shower that one of your former selves hinted at within our runes back on Asgard.”

Norma said, “That Hubble guy, he discovered the universe in 1925. We learned about it in school.”

Elliot drew in a breath, “Yes, how could I forget that.”

Eddie, “So, this planet finds out that it’s one universe of many and you decide now’s the time. It fits. Us being aliens and all.”

Dawn asked, “Is it that big of a deal to know why now?”

Elliot shook his head, “Not particularly to us, though others will question it eventually. Now we can say Jaqi chose the year this planet essentially realized they were not alone and came to help them grow.”

Victor, “Much better than the alternative that you came to fight in the war.”

You asked, “Could that be why that Ares guy came to start the First World War?”

Elliot nodded, “It is plausible. Discovery of other planets and technology of their own means helped to dismantle their power scope over the mortals. While the country is at war mainly brute strength is focused on, not intellectual growth.”

Norma said, “Either way I can’t wait to hear what you have been up to on this planet. Be a nice change to not hear another endless cycle of history written about the men of this planet.”

That had you giggle and say, “Well if I’ve had numerous Popes contacted to have me exorcised no telling what hell I gave those Kings and their soldiers.”

Pt 55

All –

@sherala007​, @mariannetora​​, @jesgisborne​, @knitastically​, @catthefearless​​, @theincaprincess​, ggbbhehe4455, @lilith15000​​, @alishlieb​

X Marvel-Cast - @himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess, @changlingkhat​

Brother Dearest - @thorinanddwalinsdwarrowdam​​, @swoopswishsward​

[albertasunrise]

Amateur Heist - Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Summary: You know his name is Marcus Pike. You know he works for the FBI. You’ve seen him around the gallery the past week, or so. Thrown him longing looks when his back’s turned but he’s here for a reason, a tip that the gallery was going to be robbed. What you don’t know is that you are about to get a lot more acquainted with him as his life will literally be in your hands.

Warnings: Blood and Injury, Hostage situation, Angst.

Relationship: Marcus x Reader

~

‘Marcus?’ You tap his cheek gently in an attempt to rouse him ‘Marcus come on. You need to wake up.’ You sob, his eyes remaining firmly closed.

‘He dead?’ Asks one of your captors and you snarl at him.

‘He needs a hospital.’ You growl ‘Keep me but let him go. Or you’ll have murder as well as kidnap on your hands.’

‘No.’ He shakes his head ‘He is my leverage.’ The man yells ‘You keep him alive.’

‘I work in fine art.’ You spit ‘I’m not a fucking doctor. I can’t help him.’

Marcus fidgeting in your arms drags your attention back to him, relief washing over you as you see him crack his eyes open. The fear hasn’t left them though and your heart breaks for him, he knows he’s dying.

‘Hey, you scared me.’ You say softly, giving him a warm smile ‘No closing your eyes on me again. Okay?’

‘Yes ma’am.’ He replies, giving you a pained smile ‘I d-didn’t mean t-to scare y-ou.’

‘Hey, it’s okay.’ You soothe ‘Don’t use your energy up.’

He nods weakly, scrunching his eyes as the pain starts to get more intense, tears slipping down his flushed cheeks. You notice this and pull him closer, desperate to offer him some sort of comfort in the current circumstance.

‘So if this date goes well,’ You start, smiling sweetly at him ‘Perhaps we can go on a second.’ You suggest, noticing that his features relax a little as you speak ‘If we do I suggest a day of visiting museums, the natural history museum is my favourite.’

‘Yeah?’ He quizzes, trying his hardest to smile at you ‘Why’s that?’

‘Promise you won’t laugh?’

‘P-promise.’ He chuckles, wincing at the pain this brings him.

‘I freaking love dinosaurs.’ You answer ‘Have done since I was a kid. Was going to be a Palaeontologist when I grew up with my childhood boyfriend.’

‘I remember when walking with Dinosaurs came out. It blew my mind.’

He smiles sweetly at you. He can’t help but feel captivated by you, your innocence, your genuineness, your beauty. He never thought he’d pluck up the courage to ask you out, he’d never imagined that you would like him too.

‘It’s silly I know.’ You continue ‘But I don’t know.’ You shrug ‘I just find them fascinating.’

‘It’s not silly.’ He says sweetly ‘I think it’s c-cute.’

You give him a shy smile, stroking his cheek affectionately and tapping it when his eyes start to flutter again.

‘Come om brown eyes.’ You say ‘Stay awake. I know it’s hard.’

‘Tired.’ He says as they shut for just a moment, snapping them open when you shake him.

‘Please Marcus. You need to keep those eyes open for me.’ You plead ‘Help’s coming I promise.’

~

‘They’re going to give them what they want.’ States James ‘But the car will have a tracker. We won’t be far behind them.’ He finishes as he nods at Alice, advising her what to tell them.

‘I’ll call them now.’ She says, picking up the phone and dialling the number that’s been calling her ‘There will be a car waiting for you in 10 minutes. You got what you want. Let them go.’

‘Not until we’re out. Once we leave you can come and get your agent and his girlfriend.’ The assailant spits before having up.

‘Well?’

'Won’t let them go until they leave.’ She states.

‘Did he say anything about how Marcus is?’ Enquires Matt with a perturbed look on his face.

Alice simply shakes her head, giving him a grim look.

~

‘When w-will we h-have this date?’ He stutters as he gazes up at you through hooded lids.

‘As soon as you’re better.’ You assure ‘We’ll get you well and then we’ll go on our date. I promise.’

‘Will you s-stay with m-me?’ He asks although it almost sounds like he’s begging and you can see the tears streaming down his cheeks.

‘Yeah, Marcus.’ You reply ‘I’ll stay with you.’ You finish, smiling sweetly at him.

‘Thank you.’ He says, smiling at you before his limbs go slack and his eyes roll back.

‘No.’ You sob, your throat tightening as fear starts to tighten its grip on you ‘No come on Marcus please.’ You beg, tapping his cheek and shaking his shoulder ‘Please open your eyes. Don’t leave me now.’

He doesn’t wake up. His breathing is getting weaker along with his pulse and you desperately hold the saturated blazer to his head. His skin is positively translucent now and a small puddle of blood has formed on the floor, the red liquid now dripping from the material that’s supposed to be holding it in. You bring his soft lips to yours and kiss him, hoping it may have the same effect as last time but alas still nothing and you sob against his mouth as you bring his forehead up to yours.

‘Come on.’ You plead ‘Please wake up.’ You feel your emotions started to get the better of you and your shoulders begin to shake, the wall you'd built to contain your despair's starting to crumble ‘Please… Please wake up.’

‘The cars here.’ Says one of the men, catching your attention.

‘Well. Looks like you two are free to go.’ He states ‘See ya, sweetheart.’

You watch as they sprint out the door and then you let your emotions flow, your sobs are uncontrolled as you rock Marcus’ unconscious form in your arms. You hear new voices and the sound of wheels on marble so you look up to see Matt sprinting towards you ahead of two EMT’S. His face drops when he sees the state his boss is in, your tear-stained cheeks and sobs leading him to fear the worst.

‘I tried to keep him awake.’ You lament ‘I tried.’ You renew as you rock him in your arms.

‘Okay. It’s okay you did so well.’ Matt soothes as he drops to your side ‘Let the medics take care of him now.’ He says softly as he helps you lay Marcus down gently before pulling you into his arms.

‘Please don’t let him die.’ You beg ‘He can’t die.’

‘They’ll do all they can.’ He assures you ‘But we need to give them room.’

The next few minutes are a blur. The next thing you're aware of is that you’re being helped into the back of a large truck, Matt at your side, holding your hand, trying desperately to console you as you weep. They take you to the hospital where you sit with his team, patiently awaiting news but as the hour's pass, you grow more and more restless.

‘Shouldn’t we have heard something by now?’ You growl, shifting in your chair.

‘If something had happened, we would have been told.’ Assures Alice as she takes your hand in hers ‘No news is good news.’

You nod, giving her a small smile and allowing yourself to let out the breath you hadn't realised you’d been holding. She was right. Of course, she was. If Marcus hadn’t made it they would have told you straight away. He was fine. He’s going to be fine. After what feels like an eternity later, the doctor finally emerges.

‘He’s stable.’ He states as you all stand ‘He suffered a fracture to his skull from the bullet grazing his head. He suffered a subarachnoid haemorrhage which was caused by a brain aneurysm, we had to operate to relieve the pressure. He lost a lot of blood, around 35% of his blood volume, much more and he wouldn’t have made it. He's had two transfusions but he's got a long road ahead of him.’

That statement makes you feel sick.

‘We have placed him in a medically induced coma to help him rest. He's also on a ventilator to assist his breathing.’ The doctor states as he looks around at all of you, eyes stalling on you ‘He’s not out of the woods but if he makes it through the night then I believe he’ll have a fighting chance.’

‘Thanks, Doc.’ Says James as he walks up to the man and shakes his hand.

‘When can we see him?’ Asks Alice.

‘He’s in recovery at the moment.’ He informs you all ‘I will have someone fetch you when he’s been moved to a room. I can’t have all of you in there at once though. You’ll need to limit the number of people in his room.’

‘Thank you.’ Matt pipes up as he shoots you a look, noting that you’re now staring at your blood-stained clothes.

‘How hadn’t you noticed? Your cream blouse is now scarlet, your dark grey pants are black. You feel your hands start to shake, your breathing becoming erratic and Alice notices too. She drops to her knee’s in front of you, cupping your face as she looks you squarely in the eyes.

‘You need to calm down.’ She says, her face straight ‘You’re having a panic attack’ She states ‘Copy my breathing.'

You do as she says, taking a deep breath in when she does, and letting it out when she does. You eventually start to feel your heart slowing, breathing becoming an easier task and you look up at her and give her a small smile.

‘I’m covered in his blood.’ You sob and she lets her eyes rake over you ‘I’ll go get you a change go clothes.’ She tells you ‘Matt will stay here with you okay?'

You nod, letting your head fall onto Matt’s shoulder as he pulls you into a sideways hug and you allow yourself to relax a little in his arms. Alice returns a few minutes later with some sweatpants and a shirt, taking your hand she leads you to the bathrooms where you change out of your soiled clothes. Upon your return, there is a nurse stood there with James and Matt, her eyes drifting up to you and giving you a small smile.

‘This man here tells me Mr Pike is your partner.’ She states as she motions to Matt, your eyes drifting to him where he widens them slightly, wordlessly telling you to play along ‘You can see him now.’ She states, leading the way.

You follow, Matt at your side, and you’re led into another ward, rooms surrounding you with patients in different states within. She opens a door and motions for you to enter, smiling at you sweetly as you step inside and look right to see him laying there. A white bandage is wrapped around his head and a thick tube protrudes from his lips. His skin is a healthier colour now so that offers you some relief but as you continue to study him, the more wires and tubes you noticed the more your heart sinks.

Matt leads you blindly to a chair at Marcus’ bedside and you practically flop down into it as you take his hand and lay a gentle kiss on his knuckles. The nurse leaves and then it’s just the three of you, Matt taking a seat opposite you and watching you as you fuss over his boss. Silence washes over you for a while before you finally find the strength to speak, mouth moving as you form the words.

‘We’re going on a date once he’s better.’ You state and Matt looks up at you in surprise.

‘He finally pluck up the courage?’

‘Actually, I kissed him then offered to if he stayed awake for me.’ You admit, cheeks reddening as you play the moment over in your mind ‘We’re going to go for pancakes.’ You continue ‘Then we’re going to go for a walk and he’s going to kiss me on my doorstep when he takes me home.’

Matt can see what you’re doing. Assuring yourself that these things are going to happen to take away from the fact that Marcus is laying there fighting for his life. He gives you a small smile before returning his attention to his boss, silently willing him to pull through. Not for him or even the team but for you.

~

‘They caught them.’ States James, watching you through the doorway as his colleagues circle him ‘How’s she doing?’

‘She’s doing okay.’ Matt states, glancing back at you ‘She’s coping as best as she can considering the circumstances.’

James nods and Alices gives Matt a grim smile, her heart breaking for you as she turns her head to watch as you affectionately stroke his cheek.

‘They’re going out though.’ Matt pipes up ‘When he’s better they’re going to go on a date.’

‘Well, it’s about time.’ Exclaims James, letting out a breathy chuckle.

‘Let’s just hope he pulls through.’ Alice says as she looks back at her colleagues.

‘He will.’ says Matt, not his head with surety ‘He’s got something to live for now.’

~

Chapter 3

[mycupoffanfiction]

His Second Chance Part 17

Bucky x Reader

His Second Chance Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Bucky comes back from Wakanda with Steve, ready to begin his recovery from his days as the Winter Soldier, but there’s one thing he doesn’t take into account - you.

Warnings: Soft fairly non descriptive smut (first 3 paragraphs), fluff, sadness.

Word count: 2500

Bucky and the Reader explore their options seperately, Reader starts to feel overwhelmed.

ALL TAG LISTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN 💖 feel free to come and chat, my blog is always open for you 💕

If your tag is crossed out, I haven’t been able to tag you. 

_______________________________

Soft. So soft.

Gentle sunrays pushing through the curtains, the quiet hum of traffic in the distance, the odd faint order here and there shouted by Steve as he trained the recruits in the early morning outside. Sheets beneath your fingers, bunched tightly in your hands, a soft mewl escaping your lips, back arching slightly as you let out a shaky breath. “Bucky.” You whined. “I’ve got you.” He hummed against your core, the vibration sending a warm feeling through you as you drew closer to your orgasm. “Let go for me.” Bucky whispered and just like that, with a few more flicks of his soft tongue, you were a trembling mess. Whining out and moaning, no regard for whether Sam could hear you or not as Bucky worked you through your orgasm. He tried to keep you going for a second one, but you gently nudged him away.

 A proud smirk played on Bucky’s lips as he knelt over you, lining himself up. “Love makin’ you feel good.” Bucky whispered, coming down to kiss you, lips pressing softly against yours, an almost erotic groan coming from deep in his chest as he slowly nudged into you, gently thrusting until he was confident his harder movements wouldn’t cause discomfort.

 Grunts, heavy breaths, skin against skin. Soft touches and sweet kisses trailing over your cheek and neck. Hot breath against his skin, your delicate lips against his shoulder, his beard rough against your cheek, but so, so good. A soft moan met with a gruff huff of a breath. Hushed I love you’s and gentle praises as you both drew close to your climaxes, Bucky holding himself back so you could have your release before his. Another snap of his hips and you tumbled over with a sharp gasp, a moan and Bucky’s name on your lips. Bucky followed after you, a few grunts and a drawn out moan. Eyes on yours, full of love, full of adoration like you were the only two people in the world.

 Your face was pressed against Bucky’s bare chest as you both caught your breath. Your arm draped over his middle, fingers tracing lazy circles and swirly patterns over his chest. Sex was a safe haven for Bucky, so intimate, so loving that the voices in his head all but disappeared. They had no power in his mind when he was enjoying acts of love with you and it gave him all the more reason to worship you the way he so desperately wanted to and take his time.

 Words weren’t even needed to share the feelings of love between the two of you. Bucky was so in tune with you, with your mind and your body. You both knew how you felt, even if no words came or the words you spoke while you were tipped over the edge of euphoria made no sense at all, it was love. It was all love.

 Bucky could get used to this life. Waking up to you every morning, making food together, baking cakes and pastries, playing videogames and reading together. Bucky could get used to all of it, in fact, he was getting used to it. But soon he’d have to introduce a new part of his life when he was only just getting used to real life again.

 Domestic life or back to the field again? Bucky pondered, stretched out lazily on the sofa in his fitted sweats and a black t-shirt. It’s one direction and then the other, something happens to continuously tug Bucky to the opposite path. Why was this so hard? Why did it need to be so hard to just make a decision? It felt near impossible.

 You have to fight. It’s your duty to pay back what the Winter Soldier did.

No. You weren’t him, you don’t owe anything, it’s okay to want something else.

Bucky scrolled through listings on his laptop. Cats. When did he become so obsessed with cats? He’d never cared much for them back in the day but- oh just look at this one, so fluffy. Bucky was absolutely sure he needed at least one. If not five.

 Perhaps he would fight for a while, see where it lead him. Perhaps he just needed to do it, serve his self-given time until he felt he’d had enough, he’d done enough and he’d retire. Maybe the idea of a bakery or a café was just a silly fantasy. Adopting a small herd of cats was a silly fantasy, who was he kidding? No one would let him have little creatures roaming around the tower. Perhaps a normal life just wasn’t within his reach.

Perhaps you’re just not allowed a normal life, Barnes. Bucky sighed. I can hope.

 Bucky longed for a life in New York. Quiet, peaceful, the only stress being simple things like loading the dishwasher and paying the bills on time. He dreamed of a Brooklyn apartment, one with a feature brick wall and exposed pipes he’d paint with beautiful colours. A life where he could wake up and see your pretty face and look forward to a day full of spending time with you. He longed to look after another life, not a child – he wasn’t ready for that and perhaps you didn’t even want one, but a cat. Five cats. That was his dream. He imagined himself laying on the floor, a little cat pawing at his beard and long brown hair, sweet little mews for attention causing Bucky to grin and chuckle. A weight on his chest, you as you snuggled up to him giggling at nothing in particular. Carefree.

I can hope.

 A sigh left your lips as you sat rigid on your bed, staring at your TV. “Crowds of angry protesters took to the streets outside of a therapy centre yesterday afternoon when Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes was rumoured to be taking an assessment to work alongside the Avengers.” The news host reported. “That man is dangerous, letting him into the Avengers is a terrible-.” An angry protester was cut off as Steve stood in your doorway, TV remote in hand, the screen going black.

 “Thought we made this a rule after what happened with Wanda.” Steve said softly as he padded across your room to sit beside you. “No watching the news after something bad happens.” The bed dipped slightly as he sat down next to you. “And that was something bad, sweetheart.” His fingers gently brushed over the cut on your forehead. “I hate it, Stevie.” You sniffled. “I hate what’s happening, these people don’t see Bucky, all they see is the Winter Soldier.” You leaned against his shoulder, trying hard to hold back your tears.

 “They don’t see him like we do, but that’s why we have to keep going, show them that he’s not a threat and he’s here to help.” Steve spoke just above a whisper as he wrapped an arm around you, holding you tightly. “I know it’s hard, I know.” He whispered. “He’s got us though, he’s got you. We’ll help him through it.” Steve assured you as you squeezed him around the middle, finally letting your tears roll down your cheeks. “Hey, no, you’re not supposed to cry, sweetheart.” Steve hushed you, gently wiping away a tear with his fingers.

 Bucky walked into your room, heart stopping as he saw you and Steve cuddled up on the bed, tears rolling down your cheeks as you clung to Steve’s light grey shirt. Steve gently shushed you, his big arms around you trying desperately to comfort you. Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s and they shared a look, Steve giving him a tight lipped smile before turning his attention back to you, his hand gently smoothing over your hair. Wonder what’s caused my girl to cry, maybe I did something wrong. Oh god, did I do something wrong? Did I hurt her this morning?

 A second dip in the bed on your other side alerted you of Bucky’s presence. Arms winding around you, sandwiched between two super soldiers. Never had you felt so safe and comforted in your life. Steve had pulled you from that miserable time in your life, gave you a second chance. And then Bucky came along, broken and lost and you did the same for him that Steve had for you. A second chance.

 But was this it? Was fighting again a second chance or was it a poor attempt to be Bucky’s old definition of normal? All he’d known since the war was fighting, death and destruction. It might be for the innocent, being an Avenger might be for the greater good, but the goodness of it was just a guise for the fight hidden beneath it. The same grizzly details. There would always be tough consequences. There would always be a fight, injury and pain.

There would always be death.

It was still a fight, it didn’t matter who it was for, who it was to protect. It was still a fight and neither of you were sure that it was what you wanted. Was it okay to not want it?

Yes, because you both deserved to be happy, both deserved to do what you wanted.

No, because you felt like you owed something. You to the Avengers for taking you in and saving you, showing you a better life and Bucky felt he owed the whole damn world a piece of him and even then he wasn’t sure that was enough to pay back what he’d been made to do.

 Inner conflict knitted your brows together, tears falling and soaking into Steve shirt. A third set of arms, warm, soft, gentle. Sam. What on earth had you done to deserve such a caring family? A trio of soldiers who took care of you, who loved you in different ways.

 You hadn’t wanted this. Once you had been a normal girl with your whole life ahead of you. Normal was a strange thing, ultimately it was subjective. Normal for you had been a regular teenager, school, friends, a slightly unstable homelife. And then you were thrust into the rabbit hole of Hydra. Your mother had taken away the last vestiges of what normal had been to you and twisted it into something else. Normal became painful, terrifying, abusive. And then it became calm, and quiet and full of love when Steve found you, when he walked into your shitty basement and scared the fuck out of you in the middle of the night.

 But now normal was different. Sure this wasn’t what you had seen for yourself when someone asked you ‘where do you see yourself in ten years?’ But despite it being utterly insane, so insane that you were Captain America and The Falcon’s honorary sister and Sergeant Barnes’ girl, but it was your life now and you full heartedly embraced what you had.

 Maybe it was worth the fight.

 “Can you stop?” Sam huffed, removing another photo of a random cat from the front of the fridge and putting it in a pile of other printed cat photos. “I’m trying to introduce the idea of having cats around by putting photos up.” Bucky said matter-of-factly as he prepared a nice hot cup of coffee for you after you’d finally calmed down. “I think you’re just doing it to piss me off.” Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. Bucky was about to continue when he saw you slip outside onto the balcony.

 Bucky shared a look with Sam before moving across to the balcony with your coffee and grabbed his hoodie on the way out for you. “Hey pretty girl.” Bucky spoke softly as he walked out onto the balcony, placing your coffee down on the little side table next to where you sat. “Hey Sarge.” You sighed, breathing in the lovely coffee smell before Bucky move to drape his hoodie around your shoulders.

 “What’s going on, darlin’? Talk to me.” Bucky’s gaze fixed on yours as he lowered himself onto the small bench next to you. You let out a long, shaky sigh and closed your eyes. Looking out over the city skyline, you took a few deep breaths, taking a moment to compose yourself and have a sip of coffee. “I’m too soft for this Buck.” You finally spoke. “It’s been over a year since I found out I could use fire and it’s no where near controllable. Just last week I nearly burnt Steve’s arm to a crisp and I can’t calm down when I’m in that state until all my energy is spent and I pass out.” You huffed. “I have to fight, if I don’t then I have to leave and if I leave, I lose the Avengers. My only family.” You closed your eyes, shaking your head. “I can’t lose that.”

“You don’t have to.” Bucky rested his hand on your knee. “Don’t have to fight, don’t have to leave either.” He reassured. “Bucky, those people protesting yesterday- I couldn’t even handle that. Everything is overwhelming, I wasn’t meant for this.” You avoided eye contact. I wasn’t meant for this. Oh pretty girl, you and me both. “It’s too much, Bucky.” You leant against him, his arm coming around to embrace you and hold you close. So warm and comforting. So protective.

 “You don’t have to do this alone, doll. We’re in this together. You duck out, I duck out too. You move forwards, I move forwards too.” Bucky whispered into your hair. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.” You looked up at him, eyes meeting, a pained expression on your face. “You’re not asking, I’m doing it of my own free will.” Bucky spoke softly. “You’re not alone anymore. You’ve got me, Steve and Sam. Those two love you so much, you have no idea how protective they get of you when we’re talking. Even if you stopped fighting and we left the Avengers, they’d never leave us, never leave you. They couldn’t do that.” Bucky pressed a little kiss to your temple while you took a moment to think.

 “Darlin’, when I got here you gave me a piece of advice, you said you always have a choice. You can always say no and you can always back out. So can you, doll.” Bucky lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “I know it isn’t black and white and you can’t make a decision on the spot, just know that whatever you want to do, I’ll do it with you.” Bucky concluded, sitting back against the bench cushions and taking in a deep breath of the crisp autumnal air. You leaned into him, taking a long sip of your coffee. “Thank you, Bucky.” Your lips curved upwards in a gentle smile.

That’s my girl, my sweet girl.

___________________________

Permanent Taglist:

@shygirl-00 @swanlakemikey @scuzmunkie @paintballkid711 @lovelylilia @mapreza1 @love-bucky-3000 @cals-cigarette @scarlett-berserker @2407zzz @mercurybarnes @mywinterwolf @geeksareunique @fairislesheets @wendaiii @mochibarnes @dykevindyke @anyasthoughts @miamua-posts

His Second Chance Taglist:

@socialheartbreak @whatsupbucky @yesno18 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @crystallstaircase @megantje123 @fantua @lady-x-red @buckys-islandgirl @chipilerendi @butteryoptimisticpeanut @blondecity @dark-night-sky-99 @marvel-ous-bucky @rand0mfangurlstuff @tfandtws @books-baritones-bucky @bluerorjhan @calwitch @hello-keeley @vrgelivvvv @vipersluntatic @carol-twinklefists-danvers @stitchers-in-stitches @hungry-pasta @lauraxwndrlnd @supercleverbouquetsoul @isaaclaheygurl @torntaltos @jhangelface0523 @love-on-the-murder-scene

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

‘The Adventure of Philip Anderson’ Chapter 9: Full Circle

The final chapter is here! After weeks of misery with school, I’ve managed to get this story finished!

FFN | Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

.

.

Despite being snug in her jacket and scarf, Molly couldn’t fight the winter chill in the air, making her very bones tingle. She and Sherlock quietly made their way through the abandoned station, using their torches to light the way. Scotland Yard was notified that they were going in, and Lestrade had a few officers on standby in case they ran into any trouble. He had also insisted that they at least wear wires in case either of them couldn’t call in. “This feels too much like a trap,” Molly told him. “Something feels off.”

“I agree,” Sherlock replied. He had been adamant that Molly stay out of this investigation, worried for her safety, but her stubbornness won in the end. “Stay close.” It was eerily quiet, save for the occasional mouse scurrying across the way. The lights above them, though quite dim, were suddenly flipped on. They flickered rapidly, an electric humming surrounded them. A flash of movement caught his eye and Sherlock held out an arm to keep Molly from getting ahead of him.

The lights continued to flicker, and from one moment to the next, a man could be seen standing at the other end of the station, his gun aimed right at them.

.

.

Anderson listened intently with Greg. Though he wasn’t exactly needed there, he was the one to figure out where Colonel James Moriarty might be hiding out. They heard Sherlock tell Molly to stay close, followed by a hum of electricity.

“Must’ve found the lights,” Anderson reasoned.

“Shhh,” Greg hushed him.

“Show yourself,” they heard Sherlock demand. Moriarty was there.

“Stay right where you are, Mister Holmes,” he warned him. “Come any closer, and Molly will suffer.” The deafening sound of a short circuit came through the speaker. There was a shuffling movement quickly followed by a gunshot.

Lestrade didn’t waste any time, commanding everyone to storm the station. “Right now!” he ordered them. “Philip, stay here. If we need more help, it’ll be up to you to contact someone.”

Anderson nodded, watching as NSY officers stormed the station. He could hear voices, distant now, expressing a struggle. Another shot went off and the gun clattered to the floor.

“Sherlock!” Molly screamed.

“Anderson, call for an ambulance!” Lestrade spoke with urgency.

After making the call, Philip ran toward the station, his eyes widened at the sight that befell him. Moriarty had been apprehended, shouting as he struggled to fight the officers. Sherlock was on the ground, blood spotting his shirt. Greg taped gauze to the wound whilst Molly cried, smoothing back Sherlock’s curls. He was surprisingly still conscious, though he looked as if he might pass out at any moment.

“Don’t cry, darling.” Sherlock’s voice strained. “It’ll be alright.” He closed his eyes briefly when Molly’s lips touched his forehead.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Sherlock,” she warned him with her broken voice. “Please. I can’t lose you…not now…not after everything we’ve—” Her cries broke through, rendering her unable to speak coherently.  

Anderson was on the verge of tears himself until he noticed the blood on Molly’s shoulder. He approached her from the side quickly. “Molly, you’ve been shot.”

She looked up at him with her red, puffy eyes, her brows knitting together in confusion. “What? No, I haven’t, I—“

“S’your shoulder,” Sherlock pointed out, his speech slightly slurred.

When Molly glanced down at her right shoulder, sure enough, there was a hole where the bullet went through.

“Looks like it came straight through. It didn’t hit any veins, which is good news,” Anderson remarked. “You still need it looked at and bandaged.”

Sirens wailed in the night, just in time to take Sherlock and Molly to the hospital. When they reached their destination, a nurse was attempting to drag her away from following Sherlock. “Don’t worry about me—he needs surgery as soon as possible,” she pleaded. “Just take care of him, please.”

“You need that shoulder looked at, regardless of Sherlock’s condition, Molly.” Anderson took her hand as a caring gesture. “He would want you to get that taken care of. I’ll make sure to keep an eye on his surgery. Go take care of yourself.”

This calmed her down enough to realise he was talking sense. The nurse, thankful for Anderson’s interference, led her off to get examined, but all the while, Molly worried for Sherlock.

.

.

Sherlock’s body ached. He groggily opened his eyes, the hospital room all a blur. “Molly,” his hoarse voice called out. Another hand squeezed his own, a softer one. He turned to his left to find Molly sitting beside him.

“Hi,” she spoke softly, giving him a watery smile. “How’re you feeling?”

He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb as he took note of her bandaged shoulder. “I’ve been better.” He paused a moment. “How’s your shoulder?”

A small laugh of disbelief slipped from her mouth. “I’ll live.” Molly’s composure quickly fell apart, tears flowing freely. “You died on the table in the operating room…twice. Sherlock, I—“

“I know,” he interrupted, reaching to stroke her cheek. “I’m sorry. I promised you that I’d be careful, and I couldn’t even uphold it. And you got caught in the crossfire too.” His breath released shakily. “It’s too dangerous.”

Molly shook her head. “You did everything. This is what you do for a living, Sherlock. Yes, I am constantly terrified that one day you won’t come home, but I’m not ignorant to the fact that what you do is important. Don’t allow my fears to keep you from doing what you love.”

“I love you,” Sherlock spoke quietly, no more than a whisper. His thumb slid across her face, wiping the tears away. “It’ll be alright.”

“You always say that,” she pointed out.

“And I always mean it.”

.

.

               Molly never left Sherlock’s side at the hospital. Although she had been cleared to go home, Sherlock had to stay a bit longer. The day he was officially released was enough cause for celebration. Sitting in the back of a cab, neither of them expected to be so excited to see Baker Street again. There was a crowd of reporters outside the building, along with photographers, their cameras flashing like crazy. Anderson could be heard as he projected his voice to tell everyone to give Sherlock and Molly their privacy. A reporter had asked if he was close with ‘Sherlolly,’ but he refused to comment. He managed to clear a path for the two to come through, and Sherlock held Molly close to his side as they made their way inside.

Mrs. Hudson had greeted them, welcoming them back from recovery at the hospital. When she disappeared inside her flat, Sherlock pulled Anderson aside. “I understand that there is no way to keep the press out of our business,” he acknowledged, gesturing to Molly and himself. “You appear to do a great job keeping them at bay. If anything false gets published, I’ll leave it up to you to set the record straight. If you aren’t sure about something, let one of us know.”

Anderson was surprised. “You trust me to do that?”

“Well, you have been our biggest supporter throughout the entire ordeal,” Molly pointed out. “You continuously pushed us to move past what happened at Sherrinford.”

“Exactly,” Sherlock remarked. “I suppose you aren’t all that useless.”

“I think you’ve grown fond of me,” Anderson teased.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I assure you that is not the case. Now, go on your way. We’re exhausted.”

               Anderson exited, finding that most of the press had left already. Despite Sherlock’s previous statement, Philip knew the detective had grown at least a little bit fond of him. It was odd. Then again, Anderson hadn’t been Sherlock’s biggest fan in the beginning either, but he liked to think a renewed sense of respect and understanding now resided between them. The past few months had been a whirlwind for him. Perhaps he could convince John Watson to write about it. He smiled to himself, the perfect title coming to mind. “The Adventure of Philip Anderson.”

[theangriestpea]

Mercy Killing

A/N: Oh wow, this is my longest chapter to date! I kept getting stuck but I finally hammered it out. I hope everyone enjoys some good Swavie content! Lmk if you want me to add you to the tag list!

Warning: Contains smut

As always, cross-posted to AO3.

Chapter Fourteen: Light

The night following James’ attack, Lavender had to be coaxed to bed with a half empty bottle of rum. Hearing the Ghoulies’ screams had forced her to go into a very dark place in her head. Before that drunken night on the side of the road, she could handle violence. She didn’t thirst for it like the boys seemed to, but she had a stomach for it.

But that was the old Lavender. The new Lavender was screaming with him from inside her trailer, her heart racing so hard inside of her chest that her whole upper torso felt like it was on fire.

When Fangs opened the door to her trailer he rushed over to her. Both he and Sweet Pea gathered her into their arms. She was hiccuping back tears between them, not really knowing whose hands were where but feeling comforted by both of them.

Fangs spoke softly to her, telling her it was okay and that she was safe. He was much better at calming her down vocally than Sweet Pea who felt so out of place. Sweets wished he could do something other than just hold her, but he let Fangs take the lead. This was his friend’s forte and he knew that.

Eventually, after taking in a few shots of alcohol, the boys got her into bed so she could rest. She insisted that the rum stay on her bedside table though so she could sip it during the night whenever she woke up from a nightmare. Sweet Pea didn’t want to let her but caved at her begging him. He found himself unable to tell her no this time around.

It was probably one of the roughest nights to date for both Sweet Pea and Lavender. Every hour she woke up upset and every hour he struggled to calm her down. When her alarm went off the next morning, they were both exhausted. There was no point in staying home though, she wouldn’t be able to sleep any more than she already had.

Time moved slowly but ultimately uneventfully until Friday night. There was a Serpent meeting at the Wyrm. Lavender was dressed in a pastel and black skater dress and her serpent jacket. She hadn’t put it on awhile and it felt good to be wearing it again. With her favorite girlfriends by her side, she felt confident.

She was also excited to be seen as someone that should be included in the gang’s business again. It made her feel better in the recovery she had achieved. Sure she still had her cast on but that would be off in another two weeks. It was barely visible with her jacket on anyway.

Her makeup was on point, hair in a high pony. Over all she felt fierce and she felt herself again. She was in between Toni and Cheryl, their arms all linked together as they walked up to the Wyrm. Last time she was here she drunkenly came onto Sweet Pea. Briefly she was kind of hoping they’d find their way back in that closet again in the same position, except this time she’d be a little more sober. He couldn’t resist her now, could he? She hoped not.

Lavender had only had sex (consensually) twice since her one night stand with Sweets. Neither time her partner was as good as he had been.

She hadn’t seen James at school since Fangs and Sweet Pea jumped him. There were rumors that he was in the hospital recovering but she wasn’t sure how true that was. Other rumors said he scampered back to Greendale but that she definitely didn’t believe.

It had only been two days but already James being out of her line of sight had done her wonders. Knowing there was some sliver of justice in the world for what happened to her was healing as well. She drank a little less. She slept a little easier. It was nice. Of course sometimes she would drift into the darkness and think about how there were three more men out that that had put their hands on her. Usually during those moments she planted her face into Sweet Pea’s chest and just held him tightly until the smell of his cologne made the light come back on in her head.

Naturally Sweet Pea would hold her back in his own quiet way. He was glad that she seemed to be relieved just from the contact and didn’t need him to talk her down from any ledge she might have been on.

“Want your usual, Lavie?” Toni asked, breaking away from her to go behind the bar. Cheryl was slipping onto a bar stool, adjusting the fit of her bright red jacket.

Lavender sat down next to her. She actually hadn’t had a drink today, so perhaps one or two wouldn’t hurt. “Can you add an extra cherry?” She asked, looking around the bar to see if she could find her two favorite boys – her best friend and…what exactly was Sweet Pea?

She bit her lip at the thought of the conversation they had yet to have. He had spent every night with her this past week. She heard Toni slide the drink in front of her.

Lav picked up the cherry by the stem, her eyes traveling to Sweet Pea who had just noticed her presence. He watched as she slowly took the cherry into her mouth, teasing him with the way her lips wrapped around it.

Sweets swallowed hard at the image she was giving him. She took the fruit into her mouth and plucked off the stem. A small smirk pulled his lips on one side when he realized she was purposefully putting on a show for him. At last she looked like the girl he met that first night in July again.

She turned away from him with a small smile on her face. Cheryl elbowed her with an amused look. “You better make him work for it this time.” She said teasingly as Lavender slid off her seat. She rolled her eyes at the red-head, taking her drink in hand.

“Don’t worry, I plan on it.” Lavender said with a small laugh. She pretended to be walking towards him as he continued to watch her, but at the last minute she turned and went to Fangs instead.

Fangs laughed at the expression on Sweet Pea’s face. His frustration was very obvious as he went back to his pool game. Lavender opened her mouth to speak when the music suddenly changed and the lights dimmed. Her heart dropped into her stomach. This only happened during one occasion: a serpent dance. There was only one girl that she knew that was a Serpent hopeful.

Her eyes went to the stage, trying to keep her confident air about her but struggling. A head of dark hair walked onto stage in an over-sized button up shirt and skirt with stockings. Kitty was on stage, hand on the pole as the music played.

She began to dance, stripping off her clothes to show a lacy lingerie set. It was black, which was typical. It was not what Lavender had gone with for her dance, because she wanted to stand out, but definitely something that fit Kitty’s personality.

Lavender dared to look behind her to see Sweet Pea staring up at the stage. There was a pleased look on his face as he licked his lips. She couldn’t help but stare at him, her heart sinking further down. Sweet Pea didn’t even seem to notice her anymore. Like she was fading away, her confidence shattered instantly and she quickly set her drink down at the table Fangs was sitting at.

Fangs wasn’t too engulfed to not notice Lavender’s change of mood. He knew things between her and Sweets was extremely fragile, and Sweets seemed to be ruining what they had before it even started. Even if all he was doing was something any teenage boy would do. Fangs knew she was misunderstanding Sweet Pea’s attention completely. The tall Serpent had no feelings for the dancer on stage. However in was clear that Pea had never actually told Lavender that.

Anger surged through her so fast that she thought she was going to burst. She looked like she was set to kill as she stormed in Sweet Pea’s direction. The song had ended and he was clapping, hollering to show his support of Kitty finishing her dance. He only stopped when he felt a shoulder slam into his arm and a flash of purple hair storm past him.

She went outside, hot tears brimming her eyes. Her mind raced as she wondered if she’d ever meant a thing to Sweet Pea of if she was just another notch in his bedpost all along.

“Shanna!” Sweet Pea called after her, only using her real name when he was trying to calm her down or get her full attention. “Stop!”

She whipped around, fury evident in her glossy eyes as she glared up at him. “What do you want, Sweet Pea?” She hissed at him, coiling back like a snake ready to strike.

He ran a hand through his hair before trying to reach out to her, “you can’t be out here by yourself. You don’t know who is out here.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. She hadn’t thought of that. Of course she was still on the Ghoulies’ hit list. She swallowed hard but her anger did not wane. “What do you care? Go back to Kitty since you like watching her dance so much.”

So she was jealous? Sweet Pea was a little taken aback. Since when did Lavender get jealous at him paying attention to other girls? Sure there was the time before when she confronted Kitty about sleeping with him, but he thought that was just a case of one cat not liking another.

Sweet Pea’s bewildering look showed her that he hadn’t realized what he’d done. Not that it made it any better, but her anger lessened ever so slightly. “I don’t care about her, Shanna. I care about you, damn it! You can be mad at me but don’t just run out here on your own where you can get hurt again!” He said, obviously angry at her as well for being so reckless.

Her features softened slightly. Why did he always share his feelings when he was yelling at her? She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed defiantly.

“Plus, you’re the one being a tease tonight. Eating that cherry like that and then ignoring me.” He crossed his arms too, staring down at her with frustration etched across his features.

Lavender stepped closer to him, feeling somewhat bad about her actions earlier after seeing that they had obviously hurt his feelings. She lightly grabbed his forearm, forcing it down so he’d uncross his arms. “You mean that, about Kitty? Didn’t you sleep with her?”

Sweet Pea put his arms by his side as she stepped even closer to him. “No, you kept interrupting us before we got that far.” He said as a matter-of-fact. “She was just a distraction anyway.”

She bit her lip as she looked up at him with big, beautiful, hazel eyes. “Let’s go back to the store room.” She whispered lowly as she reached up to touch his face softly, “I need you.”

His eyes were dark, even the light of the street lamp couldn’t lighten them. “Are you sure?” He whispered so quietly that she almost didn’t hear him.

“I trust you, Pea.” She replied, leaning up on her tippy toes and bringing his face down at the same time with her hand so she could kiss him gently on the lips. “I’ll never be over this if we don’t.”

He nodded, his face still close to hers. “Let’s go through the back.”

Lavender smiled slightly, “do you have a condom?”

Sweet Pea cursed because he knew he didn’t. “I’ll get one from Fangs.”

She shook her head, “how do you not have a condom?”

“I wasn’t expecting to get laid tonight.” He added flatly, rolling his eyes. “I’ll meet you there. Just give me two minutes.”

Sweet Pea watched as she walked to the back door, waiting until she was safely inside before hurrying through the front door. He made a bee-line towards his best friend who was drinking Lavender’s drink. “Fogarty, I need a condom.”

Fangs gave him a disapproving look, “really, dude? You’re going to do that to Lavender?”

“What are you talking about? She’s the one that asked me.” Sweet Pea asked, clearly confused.

He stared at Pea, having thought that he was going to use the condom to sleep with Kitty. “Sorry, man. I just assumed you meant Kitty. Here,” he pulled a condom out of his wallet and handed it to him. “Don’t go too rough, okay?”

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes, “you don’t have to tell me that.” He replied, knowing fully well that this wasn’t about to be a bought of kinky sex like he usually enjoyed. That wasn’t what she needed right now…well, not unless she asked.

Toni shot him a look as he went behind the bar to go into the storeroom. She had an idea of what was up but didn’t say anything. She wasn’t very happy with Kitty becoming a Serpent either. Neither she nor Cheryl cared for the girl. She just seemed shady to them.

Sweet Pea opened the door to the room to see Lavender leaning back against the built-in shelves lined with supplies. He closed the door behind him and reached out to grab her good wrist, pulling her over to him. He cupped her face before kissing her deeply.

Lavender kissed him back with a small eager moan, arms wrapping around his neck. His hands moved down her body, reaching around to grab her ass playfully and squeeze. She let out a small laugh between breaths as she pressed her body against his.

He groaned into a biting kiss, taking her lower lip in between his teeth to nip at it. One of Lavender’s hand stayed on the back of his neck while the other tugged at the hem of his shirt.

“Oh, you actually want me naked this time?” Sweet Pea asked in a teasing tone since last time they had sex they had kept most of their clothing on. Only removing what was in the way.

“That was all you, not me.” Lavender corrected him before pulling his shirt up higher. Sweet Pea pulled away from her to take it off and throw it to the side. Her hands ran over his chest and abdomen, tracing lines and lightly scratching.

Sweet Pea’s breath caught in his throat at her touch. “You’re going to need to stop that if you want me to be gentle.” He warned her, not knowing how she wanted this to go.

Lavender already had a hazy look in her eye, her fingers travelling lower to run over his belt. “Bold of you to assume that I want you to be gentle.”

He hastily pushed her jacket off of her shoulders and she slid it off of her, dropping it next to his layers of t-shirt, flannel, and denim vest. He fumbled around looking for a zipper on her dress, making her frustrated with him. “There is no zipper, Pea.” She said before pulling it up over her head just as he had done with his shirt.

His eyes ran over her matching set of bra and underwear and he noted that it was something nicer than what she would normally have worn. “You planned on doing this tonight, didn’t you?”

She gave him an innocent look as she unfascined his belt, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said coyly. Next she unhooked his button, sliding his zipper down. Sweet Pea just stared at her, fascinated with her change in behavior.

Of course he had always had a feeling she had it in her to be like this, but even during their one night stand she had been a little more reserved. More importantly she was sober this time around so her actions weren’t fueled by alcohol.

“Are you sure about this.” Sweet Pea asked, hesitating even as her hand slid into his pants. He clenched his teeth to keep from moaning. Resisting was becoming more difficult but he had to be sure. They couldn’t go back from this.

“Do you not want me?” Lavender replied, pulling away from him as she suddenly felt very self-conscious. Her bruises were gone, her cuts were minimal, and the only thing really wrong (besides her mental state) were her healing bones. Self-doubt ran down her spine, maybe she didn’t look as good as she thought she did. Maybe he didn’t sexually desire her like she thought he did.

Sweet Pea grabbed her by the hips and brought her back closer to him. “Yes, fuck, I want you so bad.” He whispered to her. “I just don’t want to hurt you.” He gave her a chaste kiss before pulling away slowly, “you’re beautiful.”

Lavender’s face flushed pink at his compliment. She’d never heard something so sweet come from his mouth. It was awkward but perfect at the same time. “Sweet Pea…” She practically moaned against him, his words setting her on fire. “Yes, I’m sure. Please just fuck me before I go crazy.”

Sweets chuckled, “I think I can do that.” He started to grind his hips against hers, one hand running behind her back to unclasp her bra. He tore it off of her so he could play with her chest.

She shoved his pants down and he stepped out of them, having to awkwardly kick off his boots first. Lavender laughed lightly at him fighting to take his own clothes off. He shot her a warning look before snatching her up in his arms to kiss roughly down her neck. Her laughter turned into a fit of giggles as his lips tickled her skin.

The sound gave him a final vote of confidence to keep going. If she needed him to stop, then he was sure she’d tell him. Her hand was between his legs, rubbing his length painfully slow. Sweet Pea let out a groan, one hand on her breast and another on her ass, and both were groping with bruising grips.

The hand that was on her backside, slid to the front and into her green lace underwear. His fingers quickly found her clit and he rubbed circles around it, being just as slow with her as he was with him.

Lavender moaned, resting her forehead against his shoulder. She moved his boxers down to grab his cock, palming him a little more feverishly than before. He was already partially hard, growing more rigid at her touch.

Sweet Pea let out a breath as he moved his own fingers faster since she decided to stop teasing him. “How do you want it, baby?” He murmured into her ear before licking the shell of it.

Lavender shivered as she thought. There weren’t a whole lot of positions they could do in the small room. “Against the door.” She said back and he spun them around, pressing her back against the door as he finished taking off his boxers.

He got down to his knees and slipped her underwear down so that she was also totally naked save for the heels she was wearing. Lavender stepped out of the undergarment so that she wasn’t restricted.

Sweet Pea lifted her up and placed her thighs on his shoulders, his mouth honing in onto her core aggressively. He licked and nipped and sucked until her body was shaking against the piece of wood half holding her up.

Her hands were in his hair, mussing it up as she cried out from the pleasure he was giving her. “Pea,” She cried out, “Oh god, please-“ She couldn’t form complete sentences anymore as her brain went haywire.

There was not a shred of darkness in her brain. Her thoughts were bursting with light and color and affection. Sweet Pea brought her to the edge by lapping at her clit while fucking her with his fingers.

If he weren’t holding her so tightly, then she’d have fallen when she hit her peak. Her upper body was squirming since her lower was forced into place.

As she caught her breath, he dragged his tongue slowly over her to clean her up. Once done he set her legs down carefully. He grabbed the condom that he had set on one of the shelves and ripped it open. He rolled it onto his fully erect penis before getting up onto his feet.

Lavender was panting more from anticipation than from the high. Sweet Pea lifted her up once more, wrapping her arms around his waist. He guided himself into her and they both moaned out at finally feeling together.

Sweet Pea wasn’t quite rough but he wasn’t gentle either. He was a perfect mix of the two, pumping in and out of her. “Fuck baby, you feel so good.” He groaned into her ear, making her whine softly.

“Does it feel good, princess?” He asked, knowing by her moans that she had to be feeling good but also wanting to hear it.

Lavender kissed his tattoo, her tongue sliding along the snake’s body. He grunted in response. “Your dick is perfect.” She cooed back. Sweets increased his pace again, the door knocking loudly against its frame.

He was leaving bruises on her shoulders as he pounded into her. Soon enough they were both orgasming from the sensation of the other. It was intense, blinding, and it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of them. The thick veil of frustration had been ripped away as they were both now satisfied.

The air of the room was thick with heat and humidity from their sweat. Sweet Pea removed himself from her and set her legs back down onto floor. Lavender’s knees were shaking still as she hadn’t quite come down from her high yet.

There was a banging on the door suddenly. “I need more tequila!” Toni shouted loudly over the music that was blaring in the bar.

Sweet Pea threw some boxers on before urging Lavender to move. She stood behind the door as he opened it and handed Toni a bottle of clear liquid. “There. Anything else?”

“If Hog-eye catches you two he’s going to flip.” She said with a very amused look. “So you better get dressed before he comes back from his run.”

Sweets shut the door and looked at Lavender. “You heard her, Rhodes. Better get dressed.” He started putting his clothes back on as Lavender hesitated. Her mind was reeling from what had just happened, not sure if it was real or not.

“Are you okay?” Sweet Pea asked, noticing her sluggish movements. “Did I hurt you?” Suddenly he was worried that he had done something wrong and got too into it. Maybe he should have held back more.

“I’m fine.” Lavender nodded, slipping her underwear and bra back on. “That was just…very intense.” She said before picking up her dress. “Can this…not be a one-time thing?”

Sweet Pea stared her down with his deep brown eyes that she’d come to adore. “Are you asking to be my girl?” He questioned, wanting clarification to what she was asking.

Lav bit her lip. “Yea…” She whispered, doubt rising in her stomach.

Pea smiled, his eyes crinkling in the way they only did when he was truly happy and she knew that was a yes.

[decandantfics]

When You Need Me - Part 3

                                                     No One

It was 8:30pm, and Dec was waiting in line to check in at Newcastle International Airport. He'd managed to blag his way into getting an extremely expensive last-minute ticket for a direct flight to London leaving about an hour from now, and had hurriedly re-packed his belongings, letting Ali know he would be home later that night. Anne had been so disappointed when he told her he needed to go back to London, but had insisted on cooking him a full 3-course meal before he left. He'd managed two-thirds of the generous portion on his plate before claiming fullness – a feat Anne classed as a win, given that he hadn't eaten anything all day other than a few bites of his eggs and bacon that morning. Sending him off with many hugs and kisses, and a promise that he would keep her in the loop on everything – himself included – Anne had left him with a few final words of wisdom: "Talk to him."

Dec had nodded, an odd look coming over his face for a moment, before stepping through the threshold and back out into the dark, unwelcoming world. Now, standing in line with multitudinous other weary travelers, Dec had his cap pulled down tightly over his eyes and the collar of his coat turned up, feeling the need to hide from the curious eyes of the public. He was in no mood to speak with anyone, not even their fans, and was willing the line to speed up. All he wanted was to get back to London to take care of his ailing wife and their unborn child. Well, there was one other thing he wanted, but that wasn't really an option right now, at least to his mind.

Over the past few months, Dec had met with various members of Ant's rehab team, both over the phone and in person, in an attempt to keep himself educated in the best ways to help Ant as he kicked his alcohol addiction. They had stressed that it was important Dec didn't try to fight Ant's battles for him – that Ant needed to form new habits and resist temptations himself. If he came to rely too much on any one person for strength while recovering, it could be detrimental in future. Which Dec had essentially interpreted to mean, "don't force yourself on him; be there for him, but mainly support him from afar." Thus, he had made an effort to be a constant underlying presence in Ant's life in small ways, checking up on him daily through Christine, and Anne-Marie via Ali (they'd known each other for years and were good friends), and being incredibly supportive whenever he was with Ant. But he felt like he shouldn't be bothering Ant all the time with texts as was their previous norm, thinking Ant might come to rely on him too much, or would perhaps think Dec was checking up on him because he didn't trust him to stay sober. So he kept casual contact to a minimum unless Ant initiated it, instead focusing on passing on support from the public. Whatever it took for Ant to get better, that's what Dec was going to do. Even if it meant hurting himself in the process.

And he was fine with it, he understood why the team wanted Ant to find his own moral strength to fight his demons, and he accepted that this – hopefully temporary – "support from afar" arrangement would benefit Ant in the long run. He knew they had grown to rely on each other greatly over the years, and could definitely see why the team thought it best for him to not be such an overbearing presence in Ant's life right now. So he carried on as he had been, staying strong for Ant and being massively supportive of him, but keeping his distance, allowing Ant to find himself again and conquer the devils trying to bring him down.

Keep Calm and Carry On. That famed British adage had become Dec's mantra in the three months since his world fell apart, yet he'd done anything but "kept calm," instead being plagued by anxiety and insecurity, the pressures of performing solo and having to solely carry all of the responsibilities of their TV empire doing immeasurable damage to his own mental stability. And he needed Ant, more than ever, but starved himself of Ant's love and support in favor of being his strong shoulder to cry on whenever his friend needed it.

True, Ant knew of Dec's struggles, but Dec basically refused to let them talk about that in their limited time together – insisting that Ant was the important one here, and that he was "fine," the therapy was helping, and it was all good. He needed to be strong for Ant. Of course, Ant didn't believe a word of it and was secretly worried about his friend, but guilt over his own starring role in causing his friend to suffer kept him mute on the subject. He wasn't sure he could deal with the knowledge of all what his friend was going through because of him.

So it was that neither friend had the courage to really talk to the other as they had done in years past – one due to a fear of the unknown, and the other due to a wild misunderstanding of his role in his friend's recovery.

                                                       ~~~

In a large mansion in Wimbledon, a dark-haired man sat on a couch, reclining back as he vapidly stared at his telly, watching – but not really paying attention to – a cooking program. Next to him, her head resting on his shoulder, was his girlfriend, Anne-Marie. They were sitting in silence, both lost in their own thoughts, tired after a full day of shopping on the town with Anne-Marie's two daughters. The three of them were staying over at Ant's tonight, and both girls had gone to bed about half an hour ago. It was nearly 9:30pm, and stillness reigned in the house. Outside, a vicious thunderstorm was rolling through, rain lashing at the windows and occasional bolts of lightning illuminating the darkened room, the only light coming from the big screen TV hanging over the fireplace.

Despite the storm outside, Ant was beginning to nod off, weariness from their long, but fun, day fogging his mind and lulling him to sleep. Anne-Marie wasn't too far behind him, but remained wakeful as she studied her boyfriend's face, completely ignoring the television. She had known Ant for years, having first come to know him through his and Dec's management company, James Grant, when she was hired as his PA. They'd never been too terribly close, their relationship purely professional, but she had always admired him from afar. Not just his finely chiseled physique, but his personality, too – his kindness, gentleness, his unbelievably soft heart when it came to animals and children. He had doted on her children when they were born, always giving them little gifts and momentos, and just taking the time to listen to their fantastical ideas about the world they lived in as they got older. So Ant had been a constant presence in her life for a while now, and, if she was completely honest with herself, he was her ideal man. Kind-hearted, strong, romantic, and devilishly handsome – all of the qualities she wished for combined into one very special man.

She still couldn't quite believe she was in a relationship with Ant. It hadn't been planned, neither of them had been looking for a new relationship. They'd grown closer after his marriage broke down, but were merely good friends, nothing more. But it had just sort of happened one despairing night when she had found Ant sobbing brokenly over the mess he had caused with his irresponsible actions. She had hugged him and reassured him, had found herself drawn to him and...kissed him. More salty kisses were shared, one thing led to another, and the next day they found themselves with the possibility of starting over together. And that's exactly what they'd done. After that first night, they took things a bit more slowly, neither one quite ready to commit to a full-on relationship after the painful breakdowns of their respective marriages. But the seeds that had been sown gradually grew, and eventually blossomed into the beautiful garden of love they now found themselves in. Anne-Marie counted herself very lucky to have Ant in her life, and she knew he felt the same.

But something was bothering her, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it. For as long as she'd known Ant, Dec had been an ever-present constant in his life. If Ant was around, Dec was never far away, and that's just how it had been for as long as she'd been a part of Ant's world. But now things were different, and she wasn't sure why. She had been surprised – but secretly pleased – when Ant had told her he wanted to move closer to her and her girls. She had somehow assumed that he would never move away from Dec, and especially not 8 miles away – they'd been living in each other's pockets for nigh on 30 years, after all – but had happily agreed to his plan, and helped him search for a home in Wimbledon. They had eventually decided upon this house, and it was truly beautiful. Yes, it needed some renovations, but Ant had wanted a home to make his own, so this was the perfect solution.

Yet the absence of Dec puzzled her. Ant had told her just today that he had never been happier in his life than he was now, which of course had made her feel incredibly special and loved. But if Ant was the happiest he'd ever been, why did she sometimes catch him staring sadly at the framed photos of him and Dec that graced the walls of his home? Honestly, she didn't really want to dwell on it too much. Ant's friendship with Dec had always been a bit of a mystery to her, the level of closeness they shared seeming unimaginable and unattainable by anyone other than the two of them. Although she didn't want to admit it to herself, she was afraid – scared that if Dec returned fully to Ant's life, Ant's love for her would diminish. That he couldn't divide his love and attention between her and Dec. Yes, obviously he must have done that with Lisa – in fact, she had seen it firsthand for years, and that three-way relationship seemed to work quite well – but there was a small part of Anne-Marie that was still insecure in Ant's love for her.

Jumping slightly as a text notification pinged on the couch next to her and her boyfriend's lightly slumbering form, Anne-Marie snatched her phone up, turning it to silent, and opened the message. It was from Ali.

"Did you have any severe headaches or double vision with either of your girls?"

At the mention of double vision, Anne-Marie was suddenly wide awake again, bouncing up off of Ant's side as she sat up, causing him to groan and groggily open his eyes. Taking in Anne-Marie's troubled expression, Ant asked, "What's wrong, pet? Something happened?" his voice gravelly from his short nap.

"Ali's got a headache and double vision...." Anne-Marie began, before being interrupted by the ping of another text arriving.

"Dec's coming home. I didn't give him any details, he's stressed enough as it is, just told him I wasn't feeling great."

Anne-Marie could feel Ant's guilty flinch when he got to the middle of that last sentence as he leant over her shoulder to read Ali's latest text. "Thank God he's on his way home. Where the hell was he, anyway?" Ant questioned, his voice somewhat surly. He couldn't believe his friend had been irresponsible enough to leave his pregnant wife home alone.

"He was up in Newcastle, visiting family," Anne-Marie's gentle voice broke in. There was an odd tone to her voice, something Ant couldn't quite place. Was she annoyed at him?

"What?" Ant questioned, his eyes asking the question he wasn't sure he wanted an answer to: What do you know that I don't?

Anne-Marie averted her gaze, swallowing carefully before replying, "Oh, nothing. He just wanted a visit back home, that's all." She had promised not to tell Ant the true reason for Dec's visit home, Ali having made it clear that Dec didn't want Ant to know how much he was hurting.

Deciding to let the issue lie for the moment, Ant groused, "Well, he picked a bloody poor time to go, then." After a moment, he added, "He never was good about timing things right." His voice held a hint of affection now, as was belied by the soft smile playing on his lips as his mind took him back through the years of his and Dec's shared experiences. There was that sad look again, Anne-Marie noted. As much as she was worried about the impact on her own relationship with Ant, she knew in her heart of hearts that whatever it was between the two friends right now, they needed to sort it out. Preferably sooner rather than later, for both their sakes.

But for now, she had a text to answer.

                                                         ~~~

It was nearing midnight by the time Dec wearily dragged himself through his front door, pulling his luggage behind him. He was really feeling his chronic lack of sleep now, and had been extremely grateful to not have to drive home, instead hailing a taxi once he'd picked up his luggage. He'd tried to doze on the way there, but all attempts had been futile. Worry over Ali's apparent illness, and reminders of the last time he'd ridden in a cab – just the day before – ricocheting through his addled brain. Ali hadn't picked up any of his calls once he was back on solid ground again, so he assumed she was sleeping. Slipping off his Nike trainers – the ones Ant gave him a lifetime ago, his brain painfully reminded him – Dec stole up the stairs towards their bedroom, trying to avoid any creaky floorboards as he went.

The door to their bedroom was slightly ajar. Poking his head through the gap, Dec caught sight of his beautiful wife, lying on her side, her mouth partly open as her chest rose and fell with her even breaths. There was a washcloth draped across her forehead, but other than that, everything seemed completely normal. His worry abetting slightly, Dec made a quick trip to the en suite before changing into his nighttime attire and crawling into bed next to his wife. Being careful not to wake her, Dec slid his arms around her torso, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her cheek and then her lips. Lying face to face with his wife, Dec tried to doze off, but sleep just wouldn't come. He was too jittery, his rushed journey and the long, emotional day preceding it unwilling to give his mind a moment's rest. But at the same time, he didn't want to leave his wife, so just lay there, watching her as she slept and the minutes ticked by.

Dec must have fallen asleep at some point, because he awoke suddenly to the sounds of Ali retching in the bathroom. Rushing into the en suite, Dec crashed to his knees next to his wife, holding her long, blonde hair back as she threw up. Dec could feel queasiness oozing in his own stomach at the sight and sound of his wife's vomit falling into the toilet. He'd never had a strong stomach, and some things just never changed. Forcing his gaze away from the toilet, Dec rubbed Ali's arm soothingly, holding her gently as she finally finished and leaned back into his chest. Pressing a kiss to her temple, Dec helped her up and guided her back to bed, pausing briefly to let her rinse her mouth out at the sink.

Fixing her with a worried gaze, Dec finally dared to ask the question that had been burning in his mind ever since he'd gotten her text the previous afternoon. "What's going on, love?" His quiet words held a hint of fear, and Ali felt awful, knowing her reply would send his worry sky high.

"I've been feeling a bit off the past couple of days, a bit headachey and such. But yesterday my whole head started aching really badly, and it's still going now. I was seeing double for a while, and my feet and ankles are terribly swollen. And now being sick, obviously. I don't know what's going on. Anne-Marie thinks it might be high blood pressure."

At the mention of Ant's girlfriend, a shadow flitted across Dec's face, but it was quickly replaced by anxiety over his wife's condition. "High blood pressure?" he repeated, eyes wide. "Is that dangerous, can it hurt the baby?"

Ali relayed the information she'd gathered through research after Anne-Marie's suggestion – that it could possibly just be pregnancy-induced hypertension, which was more likely in first time mothers under the age of 20 and over 40. Reassuring him that their bairn had been quite active all evening, Ali added that yes, there could be risks to the baby, but there was monitoring that could be done to ensure all was well. Dec still looked scared, though, and refused to hear a single word of argument against his proclamation that Ali would be going to the doctor's today for a check-up.

Agreeing to make an appointment with her doctor as soon as possible, Ali curled up again, pillowing her head on Dec's chest as he held her close. If she was honest, he wasn't the most comfortable pillow right now, his muscles unbearably tense as his imagination whirred with all manner of things that could go wrong.

Close to sleep again, Ali murmured, "Stop thinking. Get some more sleep," before nuzzling into her husband's neck and dozing off, content in his arms despite her pounding headache. Dec, however, couldn't sleep another wink. He needed reassurance right now – his mind jumping to the most horrible worst case scenarios of them losing their child, him losing Ali and the baby....His mind raced on and on, no longer listening to reason. He desperately needed someone right now, but he had no one.

[viollettes]

“Blue Ribbon”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC x Reader

Summary: After a fatal bullet to the chest, Bucky finds himself face-to-face with a very familiar-looking guardian of the gates who will determine his afterlife fate.

Soundtrack: “Your Ex-Lover is Dead” (Stars) “The Funeral” (Band of Horses)

A/N: This one is for JinYi.

"Take him to the quinjet! BUCKY! Don’t close your eyes, stay with me!"

There was a clear sense of numbness, and his thoughts start to tumble back as if they're in slow-motion movie of his life - the streets of Brooklyn, a smaller Steve, a blue ribbon, being drafted. Reality dawns as Bucky slowly looks down at his chest - he's been shot.

This lasts for a few seconds as he attains his visual confirmation that he's been shot, and the pain rolls in waves. Blood pumps out of the hole in his chest and the nausea starts.

The burning pain becomes overwhelming, and despite the screaming warnings, Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, allowing for the dark abyss to take him away.

His eyes rapidly blink until he gradually adjusts to the glaring white light and white surroundings. He’s no longer in a bloodstained stealth suit, only clad in white. Any emotional and physical pain he bore has seemingly dissipated.

"James Buchanan Barnes?"

A young woman holding a clipboard stands in front of him. She, too, is head to toe in an immaculate all-white ensemble, a blue ribbon in her hair the only item of color in the distance. There's a sense of familiarity to her, but he can't put his finger on it.

Her eyebrow scrunches and she glances at her clipboard again. "James?" she tries again.

"Sorry, I blanked out," Bucky apologizes. "Could you tell me where I am?"

She knowingly smiles like she's heard this question many times. "Some call it the pearly gates. Some call it limbo," she calmly explains. 

Two chairs and a desk instantaneously appear in front of them, and she sits, beckoning for Bucky to do the same. Bucky obliges and his eyes grow wide when an extremely thick book appears in front of him from thin air.

She opens the first page of the book. "James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10, 1917 to George and Winifred Barnes," she calmly hums, not paying attention to Bucky's visible shock. "Overachiever, athlete, oh - Brooklyn boy, huh?" she suddenly winks.

"You familiar with Brooklyn?" the super soldier asks, perking up. Perhaps Brooklyn was the key to figuring out why she looked so familiar. He racks his brain while staring at the blue ribbon, hoping it would ring a clear bell.

Much to Bucky's disappointment, she only demurely shrugs. "Oh," she suddenly says, her voice intonation slightly changing. "You've lived quite a life."

Bucky tilts his head and discreetly peeks what she's reading. The thick book is an extensive record of his life, and judging from a few keywords jumping out of the page, she's reached the part where the Winter Soldier comes into play.

"Look, you don't have to continue. Just tell me where the doorway to hel-"

The blue ribbon flaps as she abruptly stands up."I want to go over every single detail in this book. It's going to take me a while," she announces.

"I can just wait here," Bucky cautiously shrugs.

"Nonsense. We do things well at limbo." She holds out her arm with an amused smile perking up on her lips, a door suddenly appears next to desk. "I'll get you once I'm done with this. Also, before you enter the door, imagine the place you want to go."

"Anywhere where I want to go?" Bucky softly repeats to himself. Taking courage from her encouraging eyes, he stands up and pushes the door open.

A breeze wafts through his hair, and Bucky breathes in the familiar air he so longed for. A short glance downwards confirms that his all-white attire has been replaced with a navy blue suit. A wave of emotion washes over him as he takes in the place he's missed with all of his heart - the wonderful streets of 1940s Brooklyn.

For the next two weeks, Bucky relishes in the carefree nature of limbo-concocted streets of Brooklyn. While he still has his metal arm, limbo-residents don’t seem to notice and treat him as if his legacy is still only stamped by boxing championships. Everyday his confidence grows in leaps, and he feels a lot like pre-war Bucky Barnes but with a metal arm.

"James?"

The brunette looks up, meeting the eyes of the young woman with the blue ribbon. His surroundings immediately disappear and he's back at the gates of heaven. Something pangs in his heart as he realizes it's time to meet his inevitable fiery fate.

"Please sit," she softly instructs, gesturing to a chair behind the desk, where the note-filled pages of the thick book is sprawled open. "I've come to a final decision," she announces.

Filling with dread, Bucky stares at the blue ribbon. He squeezes his hands together until his knuckles turn white.

"With the power given to me as the guardian of the gates, I've determined that you deserve to enter the gates of heaven."

A heartstring snaps, and Bucky stifles a gasp of surprise as his throat clogs up. His memory jolts and he suddenly remembers why she's so familiar.

Before becoming the Winter Soldier, Bucky never had to bend over backwards to get a girl's attention. Girls visibly swooned at him, and he used his good looks to his advantage.

But there was one girl who never fell for it - the girl with a signature blue ribbon in her hair.

She was fiercely independent and ahead of her time, never letting other people fight her battles. His heart rapidly raced out of infatuation and fear whenever he was with her, the latter due to her tendency to say things that spontaneously shocked him. Their courtship was a whirlwind and a half, but Bucky quickly fell head-over-heels in love.

As much as it hurt his heart, Bucky respected her decision to join the front lines of the war as a nurse, and her courage bolstered his heart to enlist as well. The last time he saw her was at the bus station, where a bus filled with nurses was scheduled to leave Brooklyn. She defied her supervisor’s orders by running out of the bus and jumping into his arms again. With salty tears streaking down both of their cheeks, she passionately kissed him goodbye.

She was both his first love and his first heartbreak, the latter experienced when he received a letter in training camp. He opened the envelope with a heavy heart, a tattered blue ribbon confirming the worst of his hopes.

There are many questions he wants to ask - how did she become the guardian of the gates? Did she remember him? Did she love him as much as he loved her? But all he can hoarsely utter is one word - "Why?"

"I've painstakingly poured over every single detail of your life, and I realized something."

"Yes?" Bucky asks, fighting to not let the brimming tears fall from his eyes.

"Whenever the Winter Soldier was sent to fulfill a command, there were always two victims - the person in front of the gun and the person behind the gun."

The words strike his heart, and Bucky desperately searches her face. "I don't -"

"Free will,” she gently interrupts. "When you were the Winter Soldier, you didn't have free will. Any morsel of your ability to act on your discretion and take accountability was taken from you. That said, the ultimate sin was committed against you - you were stolen from your own life.

And because of that, I’m going to give you a choice. You can choose to move beyond the gates or return to where you came from.”

Bucky doesn't know what to say and simply stares at her. Words aren’t exchange, but communication happens through the eyes, and it’s evident that Bucky has made his choice.

She stands up and gestures to a door that appears from thin air. "While you'll still bear the scars of the Winter Soldier, the world will be a much more forgiving place. All charges and misunderstandings against you will be cleared and forgiven. You’ll rehabilitate from your injuries, both mentally and physically. You’ll have the chance to be stronger and happier.

Trust your friends and your team, for they will be your strongest asset. And I’m also going to give you a little gift of knowledge. Your soulmate is out there, and she will be instrumental in your recovery. Trust your heart and allow yourself to love and be loved.”

Bucky hoarsely clears his throat and stands up, following her to the door. "But what about you?" he finally asks, his chest rising and falling with emotion.

She finally shows emotional acknowledgement of their previous relationship, her lips quivering and tears welling in her eyes. "A fond but distant memory, one that neither hinders nor impedes," she softly confesses.

Both are aware that once he opens the door, it marks the end of their story. They silently take each other in, peacefully accepting the situation. Bucky finally reaches out and gently caressing her cheek, his touch lingering on the ribbon. "Why blue?" he whispers.

"Because it's the color of your eyes."

Bucky groggily opens his eyes again. He recognizes the surroundings to be the hospital. Monitors rhythmically beep a mechanical song in the background as he weakly tries to sit up.

"Okay, easy there," a voice soothes as a pair of arms helps him up. "Here's some water."

The cool water reinvigorates his senses, and Bucky is aware of the throbbing heat radiating from his chest. "I'm alive?" he offhandedly comments.

"You are, and luckily so. Your heart actually stopped on the operating table, but just as the doctors were about to declare your death, you came back to life. A real miracle, I’d say…”

Bucky raises his head, meeting the eyes of a young woman in immaculately clean scrubs. Her hair is tied back, allowing him full access to beautiful and youthful face. She smiles at his quizzical expression and introduces herself, "My name is (Y/N), and I'm going to be your nurse."

"I'm Bucky. Or James. But call me Bucky," the super soldier slowly says, feeling something he hasn't felt for a very long time.

"Of course," (Y/N) nods. She’s about to speak when a monitor starts to wildly beep.

Bucky turns pink as he realizes his heartbeat is steadily speeding up. The monitor beats faster when (Y/N) lightly giggles. "Could I have a few minutes?" Bucky asks, wishing his super soldier powers includes invisibility.

"Of course. I’ll notify your friends that you’re awake, and I'll be back in a few minutes.”

"Yes, I'd like that. A lot." His face turns red at his forwardness, but he's only rewarded with a million dollar smile from the beautiful nurse. “(Y/N),” he softly whispers as he happily watches her walk towards the door, her spine straight like a ballerina's.

That's when he notices - holding her hair together at the nape of her neck is a simple but beautiful blue ribbon, it's color ringing the bell of a fond and distant memory.

Leaning back on his pillow, Bucky smiles to himself.

And for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel any pain.

[sprinkleofhappinessuniverse]

I'm With Cupid - Part 4

Synopsis: In this AU, You're known for being excellent at your job at being a Cupid. You never give up on your charges and believe that everyone deserves some sort of love. James Buchanan Barnes is your newest charge and is determined to not fall in love. You have one month to find him a romantic partner and it proves to be more of a challenge than you thought and little do you know this assignment will turn out like no other. 

Pairing: Bucky x Reader (eventual)

Word Count: 2,026

Warnings: Swearing, I suck at dialogue I'm sorry 

A/N: sorry this took long, I hope you guys enjoy! Sorry if this chapter isn't very good. 

PART 1  PART 2  PART 3 PART 5 

For the next couple of days since Bucky’s coffee date he had been texting and talking to Samantha. You checked in on him much to his disapproval and all seemed to be going okay. That was until the Saturday, in which Bucky was supposed to be meeting up again with Samantha. You checked in on him again ready to give him any pointers and general advice and met him outside his apartment building. You didn't need to be human to read his expression. The frustration etched on his face accompanied by the death glare he gave you once he saw you waiting for him was enough to tell you the meetup didn't go well.

“So are you gonna tell me what happened?” You asked following him to his apartment. “There's nothing to tell.” He grumbled, doing everything in his power not to make eye contact with you. “What do you mean, there's nothing to tell? Come on Bucky.” You interrogated. Bucky stopped walking before turning quickly to you. “She doesn't like me okay? She said she doesn't think we'd work out. Wed be better off as ‘friends’.” he snapped, air quoting “friends” with his fingers. Irritation and frustration was evident in his tone. “Oh Bucky--” “Don't oh Bucky me.” Bucky snapped again his vocal tone raising a little higher. “This was your idea, not mine. I knew this date was a shitty idea.” “You do know there's a million other people in Brooklyn. I will find you someone.” You said trying to sound as calm as you could. Bucky rolled his eyes. “You just don't get it do you? I don't need a soulmate and I don't need your help!” He then stormed off into his apartment, slamming the door before you had a chance to follow him. You let out a sigh. Why was he so difficult? You needed to find a way to make him see that this really was his destiny. Rather than pesture him anymore you decided to go and visit Wanda at the café. You remembered she was having trouble dealing with her own romantic feelings and figured you could offer your expertise.

“Hey Y/N! I did get your name right didn't I?” Wanda greeted cheerfully from the counter as you walked into the café. You were surprised to see it fairly empty. You offered a small wave and took a seat at the table closest to Wanda so you speak to her. “Why don't you look very happy?” She asked, quickly taking a glance around the café. Once she realised there was nothing that needed tending to she took a seat opposite you at the table. “Bucky. The young woman he went on a date with on Wednesday doesn't want to continue the relationship.” You said, letting out a sigh. “Really? They seemed to be getting along great!” Wanda said, her lips turning downwards slightly. You let out another sigh. “So did I. But apparently they'd be better off as friends. I thought I was finally getting somewhere with Bucky. He is really against finding a soulmate so I need to plan my next move carefully.” You said chewing the inside of your cheek, thinking. “Well I'm sure you’ll get there. Bucky is just a tougher case than usual.” “You can say that again. There's no way I am giving up on him. Anyway what about you Wanda? If I recall you said you had your eye on someone?” You said. “He was your favourite customer?” You smiled. Wanda blushed and ducked her head a little. “Okay, His name is Victor. We've spoken a few times but only about small things like the rush or the weather. I worry it's a dumb thing to do, to go ahead and crush on someone I barely knew.” “Well, I'm a Cupid and have been one for a long while now. It's not hard to see that you're falling and I'm sensing positive energy. Perhaps ask questions about him, find out what he does and establish common ground. This is a great way to break the ice and get to know each other.” You offered. “That's not a bad idea. I guess I could talk about being from Slovakia. I think he's from England. That could be a start.” Wanda said deep in thought. You smiled. “I'm just worried i’ll come across as too forceful, y’know.” “I may not be your Cupid however I think this is definitely your calling. You have a natural aura that radiates romance. I know you can do it. And if you want me to I can drop by again and offer more advice.” You said encouragingly. Wanda smiled at you. “I would love that, Thanks Y/N. Want a caffe mocha?” She asked and you nodded. “It's on the house.” There were still no customers so your drink was done rather quickly. “Here you go and about Bucky. I don't know how you Cupids do things but maybe hanging out with him or something might help. Maybe it help to earn his trust.” Wanda suggested as she placed your cup in front of you. As you took a sip you contemplated the thought. “Y’know, that's quite a good idea.” You replied. Tomorrow you were going to pay Bucky a visit.

“Bucky, you’re not missing today's session. Both Nat and Sam will eat me alive if you don't come today.” Steve pleaded, both palms on the island counter in Bucky’s apartment, using his ‘teacher stare’ to let Bucky know he was serious. Bucky groaned whilst rubbing a hand in his face.

Since Bucky had returned from being in the military as part of his recovery he went on weekly running sessions with Steve, Sam and Natasha. Natasha was a personal trainer and Sam was a social worker who also worked at the DVA. He was conveniently Steve’s best friend and after Bucky retired from the military Bucky attended some of his group sessions with other veterans and ex-military personnel while he tried to get back to his normal life again. Bucky was never good with dealing his feelings and the weekly running sessions he had with Nat, Sam and  Steve was a good alternative. However, Bucky did tend to slip into periods where he would shut himself off from everyone, rarely going out except to take Ollie for a walk. Steve called this his “blue periods” - being best friends with an elementary schoolteacher meant Creative nicknames as well as “I'm going to countdown from 10” - and try his hardest to get Bucky back on his feet again. Recently Bucky had fallen into his “blue period” and your mission to find him a soulmate hadn't helped. However, he had learned it was no use locking himself away plus Natasha would already tear him apart for missing sessions and he didn't really feel like adding fuel to the fire.

“Alright fine. Let me go and get changed.” He grumbled. Steve flashed him a small smile and turned to go into his room. He had just finished getting changed and was on his way out of his bedroom when he heard the doorbell ring. He frowned but before he had the chance to say anything or even move he heard Steve shout “I’ll get it” and his friend’s soft footsteps move towards the door. He then heard the door close and the sound of shuffled footsteps in the living room. He walked into his living room and he knew he really shouldn't have been surmised to see you standing there next to Steve.

“You have a visitor.” Steve said, rather cheerily. Bucky’s frowned deepened. “What are you doing here?” Bucky asked sighing. Steve glared him but Bucky ignored him. “I know Samantha didn't work out but I promise we will find you someone.” You started. “I think what we need is to establish a bond with one another. Building trust.” “We, don't need anything.” Bucky argued. “I think Y/N might be right Buck. It can't hurt to spend a little time with each other.” Steve chimed in. Bucky glared at his friend who seemed to be acting like he was your best friend rather than his. “Steve, you're not helping the situation. You're supposed to be my friend.” Bucky argued. Steve rolled his eyes. “I am and as a friend I think this is good for you. Y/N, come along to our running session today. See the team in action!” Steve proposed. Your face lit up causing Bucky to glare at Steve. “I think that's wonderful! I would love to.” You agreed. “Then it's settled, Y/N’s accompanying us.” Steve said, firmly. “Do you even know how to exercise?” Bucky asked raising an eyebrow. You couldn't tell if he meant the question maliciously or not. “It's running Buck, I think she’ll manage.” Steve said, firmly gripping his shoulder. “Well it's not like you're dressed appropriately.” Bucky muttered, still determined to not let you join them. “Not a problem!” You said closing your eyes for a few moments before, clicking your fingers. Your outfit instantly changed into appropriate running gear. Both Bucky and Steve stood staring you, mouth slightly open. “I'm a Cupid remember. I'm not like humans. I have the luxury of doing this.” You said smiling a little.

Despite your many years as a Cupid, exercising was a fairly new thing to you and you found something quite exhilarating about it. It was interesting to observe Bucky amongst his friends. He was a lot more relaxed and although he still held a grumpy demeanour you could tell he was at his most comfortable with Sam, Natasha and Steve. Plus this was the first time you had seen him without Ollie. Steve had introduced you to Natasha and Sam and given you a little background on them both.

“Bucky, you probably would be a lot faster if you actually showed up.” Natasha said taking a sip from her water bottle. Bucky was hunched over trying to get his breath back, too tired to make some remark. Natasha smirked a little before turning towards you. “And Y/N you're pretty good for a Cupid.” She said. “How does being a Cupid work exactly? Do you like have a love radar or something?” Sam asked as he stretched. “Seriously Sam?” Steve chided. Sam put his hands up defensively. “I'm just curious.” He started. “I'm not the one who needs a soulmate.” He said in a slightly playful toning, grinning at Bucky. Bucky groaned and rolled his eyes. (He did this a lot you noticed.) “It's not that simple. That's why I came along today, to try and build a kind of..bond. To make looking for a partner easier.” You explained. “Yeah, and we’re gonna become best buddies.” Bucky said sarcastically. “It's a good idea Bucky. And I really do think this is your soulmate, this is a good thing.” Steve said, frowning at his friend. “Go easy on him Rogers. Not all of us are getting married.” Natasha chimed in. “Thank you.” Muttered Bucky. “Although, maybe getting laid once in awhile might loosen you up a bit.” Natasha joked, smirking until she saw Bucky’s death glare. “Kidding! Anyway let's run another lap.” She said and started off running, Bucky quickly followed, seemingly to avoid being near you. You sighed as you ran alongside Sam and Steve. “Don't take it to heart, Bucky's pretty grumpy.” Chuckled Sam. “That is an understatement.” You huffed. “But I don't care, I won't give up on him. I just need to find another potential partner. Do you guys know of any events coming up?” “Bucky will probably kill me for telling you this but he's being called into work an extra couple of days at the school. We’re doing a showcase for the kids’ work and it's from Tuesday to Friday, they're in desperate need for volunteers.”  Steve said. You were so thankful that he was on your side. You smiled appreciatively. Another perk of being a Cupid, being able to make up an alias. “Well it looks like I'm going to make a trip to the school.” You said. You won't give up.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged:

Tags:

@poe-also-bucky @lilasiannerd @danceswithjensen @harleenquim

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Starting Over (7/?)

Summary: A Lost/Once Upon A Time crossover.Three years after leaving the island, Kate and Claire’s search for a quiet town in which to make their permanent home brings them to the peaceful idyll of Storybrooke, Maine, where new friendships are forged and new relationships tentatively kindled - although nothing is ever plain sailing.

Eventual Claire/Gold, Kate/Ruby, with appearances from lots of Lost and OUAT characters.

Rated: T

[One] [Two] [Three] [Four] [Five] [Six] [AO3]

====

Starting Over

Seven

Storybrooke didn’t look any different to the last time that he had been here, apart from the weather, which was colder and greyer. James was of the mindset that nothing in Storybrooke ever changed, indeed, some of the shops on the main street looked quaintly like they were still desperately trying to get out of the eighties.

The house on Shell Drive was looking much friendlier and more inviting than it had done when he had first seen it, helping Claire and Kate to move in. There were flowers and shrubs in the garden, and he was half-expecting to see roses climbing around the door as he parked up outside and came up the path. Claire’s touch was clear to see in the planting. On the island, Sun had always been the master botanist, but Kate had a black thumb. There was no rhyme or reason to the flowers, just whatever Claire had decided was pretty and would fit in the space. It was chaotic, but it was the glorious kind of chaos.

He wondered how Claire was doing in this new place. Kate’s messages had been mixed; first she’d said that everything was great, and that Claire was in her element, but more recently she’d reported a downward turn. James hoped it was only temporary. Now that they’d found somewhere conducive to as complete a recovery as possible, he wanted them to be able to stay and put some roots down.

The door opened as he came towards it, and Aaron’s grinning face appeared.

“Hey, little man!” James high-fived him as he came in. “How are your moms doing?”

“They’re fine, they’re in the kitchen.” Aaron bounded along down the corridor and slid into the kitchen on socked feet, sliding to a stop by the kitchen table. “Mommy Kate, Mommy Claire, Uncle James is here!”

Kate came over and hugged him.

“Aaron’s been watching out for you ever since I told him you were arriving today. Thanks so much for coming.”

Claire had been doing dishes and she came over, wiping her hands on a towel before holding her arms out for a hug as well. She seemed all right in herself, and James was relieved. Kate had a habit of not telling the full truth when it came to the severity of their circumstances, determined that she could cope by herself. The very fact she’d invited him to come up and help her take a load off her mind was almost miraculous in itself. He’d been expecting to find Claire much worse than she was.

He could tell that something was wrong; he could see it in her eyes, big and haunted, as if she was looking straight through him and seeing something that wasn’t there. The spectre of her time on the island still loomed large even after all these years away from it.

Dinner was a happy affair, with Aaron doing most of the talking as he caught James up to speed on everything that had happened with him starting school and making new friends, and it was only once Claire was taking care of bath and bedtime that James and Kate finally had a chance to sit down and talk about the real reason for his visit.

Something was bothering Kate; he could tell. It wasn’t just Claire’s wobble that had put her on edge. There was something else at work, something much more personal.

“So, Freckles. Out with it. What’s eating you? And don’t say Claire. We can sort her out tomorrow.”

Kate shook her head. “It’s not Claire. I mean, I’m worried about her, don’t get me wrong, but I’m coming to terms with the fact that this is something she’s got to work through herself. But, ironically, I think we both have the same problem.”

James raised an eyebrow. “Care to enlighten me?”

“I think we’re both slightly scared of the new relationships we’re embarking on.” Kate sighed, picking at her fingers, not looking at him. “I think I’m in love.”

“Your little lady in red?”

“Yep.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, surely?” James had not really given all that much thought to finding love again. Juliet had been a done deal for him, and he couldn’t imagine wanting anyone else just yet, but he didn’t begrudge Kate moving on and finding happiness with someone new. She certainly deserved to be happy and loved after everything that she’d been through.

“Objectively, yes. But given my track record, I’m scared. Every time I fall in love, James, someone gets hurt. Either me or the other person. Hell, half the time they end up dead. And now there’s Ruby, and she’s so… She’s so good for me. She gives me the strength that I never really knew I even needed until I met her. And she reminds me so much of me, and I don’t want either of us to get hurt but at the same time, being with her just makes me so, so happy.”

There was silence for a long time.

“Yep, you’re in love all right, Freckles. You’ve got it bad.”

“Yeah.” Kate sighed, and then shook her head with a snort of laughter. “It’s so hypocritical really. I keep telling Claire to go for it with Gold, that maybe she has to take some chances in order to move on, and here I am, scared of doing the exact same thing.”

“That’s the thing about advice. Easy to give. Not so easy to follow your own.”

They fell into silence for a while.

“So, do I get to meet Ruby?” James asked.

“Is this where you do the whole overprotective big brother thing and tell her something along the lines of ‘if you hurt her I will end you’? Because no, you’re not doing that. But you can meet her. I told her that you were coming, and she wants to say hi. I said we could meet her at the diner tomorrow.”

It would be interesting to meet the woman that Kate had fallen for. It was good to see her getting back on her feet even if she was somewhat scared of moving on. Whilst their own brief relationship would never have worked out if it had gone on any longer, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be invested in her finding the one now.

X

Ruby was everything that Kate had described and more, and James could see why the two of them got along so well. They were so alike in so many ways, and James thought that perhaps Ruby was the person whom Kate could have been if life hadn’t got in the way for her.

“So, you must be the famous James! Kate’s told me all about you.” It would have been flattering if there wasn’t so much unflattering information about himself that Kate knew.

She seemed bright and bouncy, and not at all insecure at having the ex-boyfriend suddenly back in town when her relationship was still so new. That was a good sign. She alternated between chatting to Kate, and chatting to James, and serving the other customers when Granny snapped at her to stop gabbing and start working.

It seemed that Kate was obviously conspiring to leave the two of them alone together, and she wasn’t at all subtle about going over to talk to someone whom she knew as a mom of one of Aaron’s classmates just as Ruby was coming off shift for her break.

Ruby rolled her eyes as she pulled off her apron and slid onto Kate’s vacated seat beside James.

“She’s totally done that on purpose, and she knows that we know.” She held out a hand. “Since we can be formally introduced now, it’s good to meet you properly.”

James shook her hand. “Likewise.”

“Honestly, I’m glad you’re here. Kate’s going through a rough patch I think, because Claire’s going through a rough patch too, and hopefully if there’s more than one of us telling Kate that she needs to take care of herself as well as everyone else around her, she’ll take the advice to heart.” Ruby poured out some sugar from one of the dispensers onto the counter and started doodling patterns in it. “I can’t really talk though; I dump my worries onto her just as much sometimes. It’s just… This thing that I have with Kate is really good, and I really want it to work, but at the same time, there’s all the plans that I made before I met her.”

She laughed. “You don’t want to be hearing all this, we’ve only just met.”

James shrugged. “Hey, I’m here as Kate’s agony aunt. Might as well extend you the same courtesy. I’m just happy that she’s found someone, so if I can help her to be happy by helping you to be happy, then that works. I think. Might have confused myself there.”

“You’re sweet. You might have the macho vibe going on, but you’re sweet underneath. Are you single? Not that I’m interested myself,” she added hastily. “I mean, you’re an attractive guy, don’t get me wrong, but I’m with Kate now and I’m very happy with her. I was just thinking that you seem to give good relationship advice. You know what, I’m just going to stop talking right now before I dig this whole any deeper.”

James did try not to laugh, but it was a losing battle. “Don’t worry, I know your intentions are honourable. Kate’s told me enough about you. And yes, I am single by choice.”

“Fair enough.” Ruby didn’t push the subject and returned to the sugar doodles. James wondered if he ought to dig into her worries any further. As she had said herself, they’d only just met in person, but since the entire reason he’d come was to try and ease some of Kate’s worries and put her back on track, and most of Kate’s worries that weren’t about Claire seemed to come from her relationship with Ruby, it seemed like as good a place to start as any.

“So, do you want to talk about it? Take a load off your mind without worrying Kate?”

“I want to travel.” Ruby sighed. “I’d been saving up for ages and I was going to take off next spring, backpacking around somewhere, spreading my wings a bit. But now there’s Kate, and I love her so much, I really do. I don’t want to be apart from her, but at the same time, I still want to go and travel like I planned, and I know that she can’t come with me because of the life and commitments she’s got here, with Aaron. I mean, I want to go, and I know I’ll come back to her, but I don’t want her to feel like I’m leaving her or putting my dreams above our relationship.”

Just as he’d said Kate had it bad for Ruby, it seemed that Ruby had it equally bad for Kate.

“Well, I don’t claim to know all that much about you, and I don’t claim to know all that much about healthy relationships, God knows I haven’t had very many myself. But I do know that you shouldn’t compromise yourself to be part of a pair rather than a whole. Sure, you can change, and you can grow, and you can become a better person as a result of being with someone.” He thought of Juliet and the Dharma years, of how much he had grown up and how much he had grown into a calm, responsible, loving person as a result of being with her. “But you shouldn’t give up your dreams entirely. Kate’s an adult. She’ll understand how important this is to you. Ultimately, all she wants is for everyone to be happy. That’s why she got herself into the fix she’s in now.”

“Yeah, but will she be happy if I leave? I don’t want to gain my happiness at the expense of hers.”

There were all kinds of clichés that he could spit out about absence making the heart grow fonder, but James stayed silent. This was something that Kate and Ruby were going to have to talk about together and be completely honest with each other about. The fact that Ruby seemed committed to the relationship and did not plan for her travels to be indefinite was a good sign, and he knew that Kate would not be unreasonable about it. He wouldn’t betray his confidence, but he could at least tell Kate what he had observed - mainly, that her feelings were unequivocally returned.

They were safely back at the house before he voiced his thoughts, and Kate just looked at him.

“Really?” There was such hope in her eyes, and James was glad that he was certain of his hunch as he really didn’t want to see that hope crushed.

“Really.”

Kate’s grin could have powered the sun, and James was glad to see it.

“Well, I’ve met Ruby. Do I get to meet Claire’s beau now?”

“Don’t you dare give Gold the shovel talk.” Kate’s voice brokered no arguments, and although James was a little disappointed and a little amused by her vehemence in equal measure, he knew that she was serious. “He’s been so good for Claire, and he’s being so understanding now whilst she needs some time. Also, he’s our landlord so it really wouldn’t do to piss him off too much, you know.”

“Ah, come on, Kate, you can handle an irate landlord. I mean, the guy can’t exactly run fast.”

“I mean it, James. You’ve helped me along with my chance for happiness, so don’t go sabotaging Claire’s.”

“I’ll keep my nose out of it, I promise. And if you two want to go out on a double date whilst I’m here, I’m happy to babysit for the evening. It’s about time Aaron learned the art of the long-con.”

Kate raised an eyebrow, trusting him to stay out of Claire’s love life but not believing him for a second about teaching Aaron criminal activities. James just laughed. It was strange to be able to laugh and joke about what had been such a fundamental and sordid part of his life for so long. He’d tried to push it all down and forget about it, and whilst he’d had Juliet it had been easy to do. Now though, it was all in the past where it belonged, and whilst it wasn’t his proudest moment, it was something that he could still accept as an important piece of him.

“Thank you, though,” Kate said presently. “Thanks for all your support. You know, if you ever need anything from me and Claire like this, we’re here for you.”

“No, you two have got your own problems.”

“Well, there’s three of us, so naturally we’ve got more problems than you, but friendship’s a two-way street. There’s no sense in you doing all the legwork.”

James smiled. Romantic entanglements weren’t on the horizon for him just yet, but it was good to know that their little island family still had each other’s backs.

“Thanks, Kate. That does mean a lot.”

They stayed on the sofa in companionable silence for a while until the soft patter of Claire’s footsteps came down the hall. She was dressed to go out, and James saw Kate cross her fingers behind her back.

“I’ve thought it over,” she announced. “I’ve decided that I want to be happy.”

Kate waited until the front door had closed and Claire’s footsteps had vanished down the path before giving a little exclamation of triumph. Although he still didn’t know exactly what was going on with Claire and Gold, James allowed himself one as well. Kate and Ruby were going to be happy, and it looked like Claire had sorted herself out just as Ruby had said she could.

X

When the bell above the shop door chimed out clearly to signal the arrival of a new customer, Gold looked up as was his habit, but it took a couple of seconds before the identity of the person who had stepped inside finally imprinted itself on his brain.

Claire was standing there in the doorway. She was looking around the place with the same wonder that she had shown the first couple of times that she had been in, and then her eyes finally alighted on him and she smiled.

“Hello Aiden.”

He hastily swallowed down the lump of choked surprise in his throat and nodded.

“Hello Claire.”

There was something different about her, and he only realised what it was from its absence. All the time he had known Claire, throughout all their interactions and all their little coffee dates, and throughout their actual date, the last time that he had seen her, she had been carrying a barely perceptible tension within her. Now, she appeared to be free of it, or at least it had lessened considerably. Now that he thought about it, it was probably the strain of keeping her mental health problems to herself. They were out in the open now, and there was no longer a barrier between them that she was trying to maintain out of a desire to protect either herself or him.

“I’m sorry that I worried you so much by going incommunicado,” she began, crossing the room towards him. Gold could only stay frozen behind the counter. There was nothing that he wanted to do more than to race across to her, sweep her up in his arms and tell her that everything was all right and nothing was different between them for their temporary separation. But she had already been spooked once, and considering everything that she had been through, it was best to let things move at whatever pace she was comfortable with.

“It’s ok. I’m just happy to know that you’re all right.”

“Yes. I’m all right now. I was just going through some things, you know. Feeling some feelings and needing to get them out there.” She paused, and she reached across the counter to place her hand on top of both of his where they were clasped around the top of his cane in an embarrassingly white-knuckled grip.

Her eyes were so blue as she looked at him.

“This is all new for me,” she said. “This is the first relationship I’ve had since my recovery, and I really want to make it work, I honestly do. It’s just that it’s overwhelming, sometimes. The feeling that I can actually be happy. The feeling that I actually deserve happiness after everything that’s happened.”

Although their circumstances were vastly different, Gold could understand her sentiments.

“This is the first relationship I’ve had since my divorce,” he admitted. “So, fifteen years ago. I really want to make it work too.”

Claire smiled, a slightly sad smile that spoke volumes to just how lonely and scared their two souls were. Maybe they could be braver if they stuck together and helped each other.

“I suppose I’m not the only one who’s panicking about what happens when it all falls to pieces, then.”

“You’re definitely not. But maybe it won’t all fall to pieces. And I think that, no matter what might have happened in our pasts and no matter how long ago it might have been… We deserve to be happy. Everyone deserves a second chance at a happy ending, I think. Or a happy beginning, for us.”

Claire nodded. “I like that idea.”

Gold decided to make his move, coming around so that there was no longer a counter between them.

“So, would you prefer to start from scratch, or carry on where we left off?” he asked.

Claire bit her bottom lip. “As I recall, the last time we saw each other, we kissed good night.”

“We did. Although it’s not night time and we haven’t been on a date.”

“We can kiss good afternoon instead, and then go on a date?” Claire suggested nonchalantly. “There’s still plenty of time before I have to go and get Aaron from school. We can go and get coffee. Like our very first date.” Her hand found his again and squeezed. “We’d get the best of both worlds, then. Starting over and carrying on.”

“Yes, I’d like that.”

Claire’s hands came up to his shoulders, and she leaned in to press her lips against his. The kiss was dry and chaste, but when they broke away, there was a brightness in Claire’s eyes, one that he was certain was reflected in his own.

“Maybe we ought to do that again,” he said. “Just to make sure that we’re on the same page, you know.”

Claire giggled, but she accepted eagerly when he kissed her again, her lips parting readily for him as her fingers slipped up to card in his hair.

She was smiling when they finally pulled away again, and this time there was no trace of sadness in it.

“Thank you for understanding,” she said. “I can’t promise that this is going to be the last time I freak out. I can’t promise that this is the last time I’ll need some space to work through all these overwhelming feelings. But I can promise that I’ll tell you what’s happening next time.”

“That’s ok. I understand. You know that if there’s anything I can do to help, all you have to do is ask.”

She nodded. “I know. I think sometimes I just need to let my thoughts come to the end of themselves. But I’ve done that now, and I can start again. Speaking of starting again though… Coffee?”

Gold nodded. “Sounds great.”

They left the shop together and he locked up after them, and they made their way down towards the diner. Ruby was serving, and she broke out into a massive wolfish grin when she saw them come in together and take a booth. Idly, Gold wondered if she was messaging Kate under the counter to get her up to speed on the latest news. In a small town like Storybrooke, news travelled fast, and it was no secret that Kate and Ruby were now undeniably an item.

In the end, Gold decided that he really didn’t care what the rest of the town thought, or what Ruby was doing. He and Claire were content to drink their coffee and picked at their slices of pie, talking about the everyday things that had happened in their short time apart. It had only been a few days, but during that time it had been so uncertain as to whether they would ever communicate again that it felt more like a lifetime.

He had never been so grateful for a second chance.

[seniorbrief]

How Playing Football Almost Caused This Boy to Become Paralyzed

Jake Chessum for Reader’s Digest

It was a crisp Sunday afternoon in Missoula, Montana, and Mike Callaghan stood in the blustery sunshine doing the thing he loved best: coaching his 11-year-old son Brogan’s football team. Brogan Callaghan was the Panthers’ 2015 season quarterback, but he was the kind of football prodigy who also played defense—linebacker, in fact, a position his father had once played with the Montana State University Bobcats over in Bozeman.

The game against the Chargers was in the second quarter. Brogan had just thrown a touchdown to tie the score at 14 and then quickly switched over to defense. As the opposing team’s offense lined up, Mike noticed their running back go into motion early. “Sweep!” Mike yelled from the sidelines, but Brogan was already on it, slipping right around a big offensive tackle. Brogan was just about to take down the runner when he was slammed from behind—an illegal hit that flexed his spine, snapped his head forward, and sent him colliding into one of his own teammates. He went down hard, banging the back of his head into the dirt.

Mike went straight for the referee, screaming that this was the second time that player had made the same illegal block.

“That’s twice,” Mike yelled. “You’ve got to call that.”

But another Panthers coach, Eric Dawald, noticed something more alarming: Brogan wasn’t getting up. Dawald rushed onto the field and found the boy on his back, barely conscious. Brogan opened his eyes and looked up. “I can’t see,” he said.

Brogan’s mother, Shannon Callaghan, was chatting with friends in the bleachers when she heard somebody say, “I think that’s Brogan.” She ran to the field, reaching her son at the same time her husband did.

Brogan looked up at his parents. “I can’t feel my legs,” he said. An ambulance drove onto the grass, and a paramedic removed the face mask from Brogan’s helmet. They asked him what day it was, and Brogan answered incorrectly. They asked his birthday, and he didn’t know that either.

Some of his teammates were crying as the paramedics strapped their quarterback to a backboard, placed an oxygen mask over his face, and loaded him into the ambulance. Shannon climbed in, and they sped the boy across the Clark Fork River to St. Patrick Hospital.

Mike drove separately, his mind racing through worst-case scenarios: We’ll buy a one-level house. I’ll change jobs so I can be home more, learn to care for a paraplegic child. Another thought intruded: I was the coach. This happened on my watch. How did I do this to my kid?

While the emergency room doctors evaluated Brogan, Shannon’s and Mike’s parents arrived at the hospital. After filling them in about Brogan’s condition, Shannon turned to Mike’s father. James Callaghan was an oral surgeon who had played football in college and loved watching his grandson play as much as he had loved watching Mike. In fact, in all of Mike’s years of playing youth football, his father had missed just one game, when Mike was in the sixth grade. “I don’t ever want Brogan to play football again,” Shannon told her father-in-law. “And you have to back me up on this.” James told her it was none of his business.

Finally settled at the emergency room, Brogan looked at his father and asked, “Am I paralyzed?”

I think you are, Mike thought. “You’re going to be all right,” he said. He watched a tear roll down his son’s cheek and thought, He knows.

Brogan looked up at Mike and said, “Who are you?”

For years, many doctors believed that children were less likely than adults to suffer serious head injuries in football, for the simple reason that they weigh less and run more slowly than adults do. Now it’s well understood that until about age 14, a kid’s head is much larger than an adult’s compared with his or her body, yet the neck is weaker, which means the head bounces around more in response to collisions. Researchers at Virginia Tech found that seven-year-old football players experienced head blows comparable in force to the impacts suffered by college players. Find out more about why playing football before age 12 is risky.

Courtesy Mike Callaghan (2)Two generations of athletes: Brogan at age 11 (left); Mike playing for Montana State University in the early ’80s

To make matters worse, the nerve fibers in children’s brains are not yet coated with the protective sheathing known as myelin. As a result, “it’s easier to tear apart neurons and their connections in children at lower impact,” says Robert Cantu, MD, the author of Concussions and Our Kids and a leading researcher of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), the brain-wasting disease that has been diagnosed in more than 100 deceased NFL players. The threat to emerging neural connections is particularly problematic between the ages of 10 and 12, when the brain circuitry that helps shape personality is being developed. “If you injure your brain during that time,” Dr. Cantu says, “there is a high likelihood that you will not reach your maximal genetic endowment intellectually, and you’ll perhaps not have the same personality with regard to depression, anxiety, and panic attacks.”

Brogan’s doctors were unsure about the cause of his paralysis, but they agreed that he had suffered a traumatic brain injury. Fortunately, by the evening, Brogan could move his legs, sit up in bed, and walk across the room. The following morning, Mike woke up feeling optimistic. Then a doctor arrived and asked Brogan his name. Brogan got his first name right but couldn’t remember his last name—or why he was in the hospital. Still, after a two-day stay, he was well enough to go home. Don’t miss these 7 concussion symptoms you should never ignore.

A week later, when the family returned to the hospital for a follow-up visit, Mike found himself unexpectedly relieved when the doctor said that Brogan would have to sit out the rest of the football season. “I remember being thankful that the doctor told him so I wouldn’t have to,” Mike says. “I was sort of off the hook.”

Missing a single season was one thing. Still, the idea that Brogan might never play again—clearly what Shannon wanted—was nearly impossible for Mike to contemplate. For one thing, Brogan loved the game and had the makings of a real standout. What’s more, the sport had been central to Mike’s life for as long as he could remember. He started as a fifth grader in the Little Grizzly league; his coach from those days remained one of his closest confidants. Among his dearest friends were teammates from Hellgate High and Montana State. During Mike’s junior year, in 1984, the MSU Bobcats won the NCAA Division I-AA national ­championship—­a feat Montana football fans still talk about.

Of course, football ends hard: You wake up one day and it’s over. Nobody plays tackle ball in middle age. Mike took up coaching at 31, even though he had no kids of his own. He started with his nephew’s team of fifth and sixth graders. Soon a few of his old football buddies, including Eric Dawald, came to help. They loved having a reason to hang out after work, teaching the fundamentals and feeling that old excitement on game days. When one of the group had a son, the others promised to keep coaching as long as the kid played, a pact that soon extended to every son any of them might ever have. Boys they’d coached went on to play at local high schools, the University of Montana, Montana State, and even the pros.

Jake Chessum for Reader’s Digest Brogan and his mom, Shannon, grab a bite to eat after school.

Mike had mostly given up on having children of his own when, at age 40, he met and married Shannon. An interior architect and former competitive swimmer, Shannon had grown up in rural Havre, Montana, with a pair of football-obsessed brothers. She loved the way Mike welcomed Griffin, her nine-year-old son from a previous marriage, onto his team. When Brogan was born, in 2003, Mike insisted his buddies renew their vow to keep coaching.

Brogan started playing flag football in the fourth grade, in 2013. By that time, the relationship between football and brain trauma was well established. Three years earlier, a Missoula kid named Dylan Steigers, who’d started out in local youth leagues, went off to play at Eastern Oregon University and took a big hit in a scrimmage. He died the next day. Shannon, meanwhile, had been getting warnings from her older brother, Scott Brown, a former high school running back and now an anesthesiologist and pain specialist in Portland, Oregon. “I’d see these 40-year-olds coming in just maimed, having these big surgeries from playing football in high school, college, the pros,” he says. Brown became convinced that letting a kid play tackle football was akin to child abuse. He implored his siblings to keep their kids off the field. Find out when you must go to the ER after a head injury.

But Shannon felt trapped—nobody could tell her husband what to think about football. Most of the CTE research, Mike argued, had been done on the brains of former players known to have problems. He had attended one of USA Football’s Heads Up Football clinics, where he’d been schooled in the latest safe-tackling techniques. And he would never consider letting a concussed kid play before a complete recovery.

Three weeks after his injury, Brogan was cleared to go back to school, but he could last only an hour or so a day. He sometimes flew into sudden, inexplicable rages, and Shannon mostly stopped working to care for him. Mike spent his days at the office and continued to coach the Panthers in the evening. He coached out of a sense of obligation, both to his fellow coaches and to the players. But now it felt different: He watched every tackle with anxiety, waiting for the child to get up and walk it off.

Jake Chessum for Reader’s Digest

Both of Shannon’s brothers, meanwhile, were relentless. Howard Brown sent his sister one news article after another about kids such as Evan Murray, a 17-year-old New Jersey quarterback; Ben Hamm, a 16-year-old linebacker from Bartlesville, Oklahoma; and 17-year-old Kenney Bui from the Seattle suburbs, all of whom died within a month of one another early that fall. All told, 17 kids died playing football that season.

One night, Shannon tried to share these stories with her husband. “We are not talking about this,” he said.

It wasn’t until seven weeks after the injury that Brogan was able to form new memories. He started neurological rehab therapy and scored terribly on cognitive tests, which included closing his eyes and touching his nose. Math worksheets that would have taken five minutes before the injury now took an hour and left Brogan exhausted. Riding on a stationary bicycle gave him a headache.

In February, Mike and Brogan sat on the couch to watch the Super Bowl. Shannon overheard Brogan begin a sentence with the phrase, “When I play in the NFL …”

“That’s not going to happen,” Shannon said.

Later she heard her husband tell Brogan, “But when you play in high school …”

“It’s not going to happen,” she said.

“We don’t have to decide this now,” Mike replied.

Later still, Brogan asked his mom, “Why won’t you let me play?”

“Because God gave you that big brain so you can do something amazing in this world.”

“He also made me a good football player,” Brogan said.

“But that can’t be your future.”

Mike turned to Shannon. “But what about his dream?”

Shannon thought, Whose dream 
is it?

But Mike could not let go of football. He thought about all the things he wanted his son to experience: the friendships, the teamwork, the victories.

And despite their differences, Shannon understood. “Mike wants his kid to be a football star,” she says. “And Brogan would be the star. He’s a leader and damn good, and everyone looks up to him.”

Mike struggled to imagine what his own life would be like without football. What would he do on weeknights and Sunday mornings in the fall? When would he see his friends? Who would he be? “Every time I thought about it, my mind just went blank,” he says.

In August, Mike got a call from officials at Missoula Youth Football: Did he plan to coach the next season? After months of agonizing, almost entirely to himself, he’d finally made a decision. “Brogan’s not going to play, and I’m not going to coach,” he said.

Mike couldn’t bear to think of it as a permanent decision, telling his son that it was only for the one season. But Brogan was unconvinced. “You know it’s forever,” he said. “Mom’s never going to let me play again.”

Mike and Brogan still watch football together—high school games on Fridays, Montana State on Saturdays, and their former team on Sunday afternoons. “It’s kind of hard because I’m not playing,” Brogan says. “I think about what I would do against the teams when I watch.” He has hurled himself into basketball and started taking tennis lessons. Brogan admits that he hasn’t yet fully recovered. Schoolwork doesn’t come as easily as it once did, but Shannon isn’t worried. “Brogan missed 234 classes in the sixth grade,” she says, “and he finished with three A-pluses and three As.” Now, instead of going to Stanford University to play football, he wants to go to the University of California, Berkeley, to study architecture—his mother’s passion.

Mike says he often thinks back to a day a few weeks after Brogan’s injury. League officials asked how he wanted to handle that fateful, unfinished game. “A big part of me was, ‘I don’t want to handle it,’” Mike says. But the kids cared about completing the game, and Mike felt it would have been selfish to refuse.

That meant bringing the teams back to the field behind the county fairgrounds. The Panthers and the Chargers lined up exactly where they’d been the moment Brogan was injured—but with Brogan now on the sidelines with his father. The referee set the game clock to where it had stopped and blew the whistle, and they played the remainder of the game. The Panthers lost. For the first time in his life, Mike didn’t care. Now, learn the surprising things about your brain you probably didn’t know.

Original Source -> How Playing Football Almost Caused This Boy to Become Paralyzed

source https://www.seniorbrief.com/how-playing-football-almost-caused-this-boy-to-become-paralyzed/