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lizzie-is-here · 2 years

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like the dawn

part i- until the end of the line?

“we were children thrust into a war. and when it is over, what will we become?”

summary: when three kids meet on a brooklyn playground, no one could ever tell that they would become a trio of superheroes, running from the law and saving the universe. but this is how they started.

wordcount: 2.7k

warnings: cussing, mentions of racism, misogyny, bucky being drafted, brief period talk

a/n: i planned to put this series out next week but here we are 😩 i got too excited lol. if you’d like to be added to the taglist, feel free to ask! feedback and comments are very welcome 🤍

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll

series masterlist | next part

James “Bucky” Barnes, (Y/N) (L/N), and Steve Rogers. The original Avengers. The soldiers out of time. The first superheroes. You three held many titles.

But before you all became lauded as national heroes, you were an inseparable trio.

———————————————————————

Steve and Bucky had practically known each other out of the womb, no surprise there. You came into the picture in kindergarten.

It was only the first day when you were singled out by some first graders. Although your parents had warned you about how other kids might treat you, little you wasn’t prepared to be shoved down on the concrete, landing hard on your hands and scraping your knees.

You were sniffling and crying as they berated you, calling out mean names that you didn’t know the meanings to. Suddenly, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a tiny, blond blur racing at your bullies.

To his credit, the kid tried his best. But the fact was that he was thinner than you, so he wasn’t able to do much damage. Luckily, a larger brunet followed, throwing an actual punch and running the older kids off.

They both kneeled down next to you, helping you up as you wiped your eyes.

“Are you alright?” the shorter one asked, voice high and weak. You nodded, brushing rocks off of your dress. He held his tiny hand out.

“My name’s Steve. This is my best friend, Bucky.”

You shook his hand, tilting your head. “Buck-ee?” You slowly sounded the name out, confused.

The brunet nodded. “My real name is James.”

Huh. “Well,” you said, kicking the playground mulch. “Do you want to be best friends with me, too?”

Neither of the boys hesitated. Instead, they nodded and offered their pinkies. You gladly entwined your own pinkies and shook them, sealing the promise.

Sure, to any teachers around, it looked like any other day. Little kids making promises at random, with little regard for whatever the future held.

But to you three?

That pinky-swear was the beginning of something far beyond kindergarten recess.

———————————————————————

True to your word, you, Steve, and Bucky remained thick as thieves through elementary school. Steve excelled in the arts and mathematics, Bucky in literature and sports. But you had talents elsewhere.

Since it was frowned on for girls to participate in most physical activities, you threw yourself into everything else. You honed musical skill, particularly in string instruments.

However, there was one activity you were allowed to pursue. Archery.

According to your father, it was the least strenuous and most ladylike. Needless to say, you picked up the skill quickly, shooting at makeshift targets on the top of your apartment building in the dead of night, illuminated only by a flashlight.

You also learned everything you could about medicine and health. It was no secret that another war was approaching, quickly. And if and when it arrived, your only shot in was as a nurse.

For all of your studies however, you still weren’t ready to bleed profusely one day in middle school.

———————————————————————

“(Y/N)? Are you alright?” From inside the stall, you panicked. What was this? Nothing hurt, and all you’d been doing was eating lunch.

“(Y/N)?” Steve whispered again. Right. They weren’t supposed to be in the girls’ restroom.

You tied your sweater around your waist. “Uh, yes, I think so. I still don’t know where it’s coming from, though…?” You opened the door, coming face to face with your best friends.

The living hell known as puberty had descended upon all of you. Bucky had grown taller than any other boy in your grade, and while you had grown some, your body had warped and changed more than him.

As for the blond, all he’d gotten were voice cracks. “We can ask my ma,” he suggested.

“No,” Bucky muttered. “We should go to the nurse.”

“Do you think I’m dying?” you asked in a panicked tone. They both rushed to calm you down, ushering you to the school nurse.

“Ms. (L/N),” she greeted kindly, eyebrow arching as the two boys shuffled in behind you. “And Mr. Barnes… and Mr. Rogers.” She sighed, shuffling a file. “Who am I fixing up today?” You stepped forward sheepishly.

“Go on,” Bucky urged you.

Taking a deep breath, you blurted out, “I think I’m dying.”

Once you explained what was going on, the blood, the permeating pain in your stomach, and the oncoming headache, Ms. Weathers smiled knowingly.

“Can I just speak with Ms. (L/N)?” she asked. She already knew the answer when it came to your trio, but it never hurt to ask.

“No!” Both boys protested. “We need to know what’s happening. Is she okay?”

What followed was the most general and non-detailed description of a period that she could manage. You were horrified, to say the least. You had to deal with this, every month, for a week? Hell. No.

“So what should I do?” you sighed. You felt uncomfortable, mildly annoyed, and very hungry.

Ms. Weathers grabbed an absence slip. “I’ll send you home early today, hon. Is your mother home?”

Truth be told, she was. But she was also working late shifts at the hospital, and you didn’t want to wake her up.

“No,” you lied through your teeth. She was about to call your bluff when Steve piped up.

“My mom’s home, she could help,” he offered. After much convincing and several half-baked excuses, all three of you managed to get let out of school. Walking home wasn’t any trouble, thanks to Steve’s apartment being only a few blocks down.

He opened the door for you, rushing off to find Sarah. Bucky grabbed a stool from the kitchen, helping you up.

“(Y/N), hi sweetie,” Mrs. Rogers greeted. “Come with me.”

She managed to pull you away long enough to explain period products and what to do in more detail, giving you said products and providing advice from the other side of the bathroom door.

You emerged in a dress you’d left at their home a while ago, dramatically flopping onto the old couch as you groaned.

The cushions dipped with the weight of two more people.

“Go away,” you mumbled into the couch. “I’m all gross.”

The smell of soup emanated from the kitchen. The radio crackled with commentary of the baseball game. A blanket was tossed atop you.

“We’re not going anywhere,” the blond said firmly. “We’re gonna stick with you. Until the… the…” he trailed off, unable to come up with a comparison that properly reflected what he meant.

“‘Til the end of the line,” Bucky concluded.

You rolled over to look at both of them. “What line?”

He shrugged. “The line. Whatever it is.” Steve nodded, extending his pinkies to both of you.

“Until the end of the line.”

———————————————————————

Fast forward through the rest of school, which at the time seemed like the worst thing ever. The occasional stuck-up rich kid making rude comments, the casual misogyny, the Great Depression.

All around, not your favorite time in your life.

But Steve and Bucky made it tolerable. You were there for the latter when his father left, and for the former when Sarah passed away.

And they were there for you, too. As hard as high school had been, getting into college was even harder. Although many women had begun to pursue higher education, that didn’t mean it was a walk in the park.

You were sitting in Steve’s apartment, waiting for him and Bucky to get back from the grocery store when you were met with more disappointment.

“I don’t understand.” You glared at the third college application that had been returned. “My grades were perfect, my letter was aces, I-“

Your eyes fell on one particular line in the rejection letter. “‘We cannot accept a woman of your background’?!” With a frustrated shout, you flung the paper out of reach.

You could feel the anger building up, creeping in and controlling your mind. And that wouldn’t do.

So you left your kitchen, grabbed your bow and a target, and climbed onto the roof of Steve’s apartment. Thanks to its secluded location, no one would spot you up here, so you unpinned your hair out of the tight style that was standard and tied it into a ponytail, sighing in relief when the soreness in your head subsided.

Your bow was tall and sturdy. So much so that, when you first got it for your 16th birthday, you could hardly pull it back. Now, you could shoot effortlessly right-handed and left-handed.

With only three arrows in hand, you nocked one and aimed, sending it flying into the bale of hay with a red dot spray-painted on it. Rapid-fire, you loosed the other two, sighing as they all land within the dot.

You briefly pondered pinning the rejection letter on the bale and shooting it to pieces, but you decided against it, instead opting to continue practicing until your arms were sore. When you finally turned in for the evening, the sun was sinking behind the buildings, and you knew that the boys would be home soon.

You tossed your bow and arrows on the table, stepping over the letter on the floor. Flinging open a cabinet, you rustled around until you find the tin of your tea hidden away.

You’d saved up for weeks, waiting patiently to buy the tiny container. Normally, you tried to save it. But tonight called for comfort.

By the time the front door creaked open, you’d made three cups of tea, setting them on the counter.

“Hey, (Y/N), we’re back,” Bucky called. “Got enough food to put a few pounds on Stevie.”

You heard the blond mutter, “Pounds is generous,” under his breath, but you only smiled, taking the groceries from him as his arms strained under the weight.

As you and Bucky put the food away, Steve spotted the tea. “That bad, huh?” he asked, taking a cup and gingerly sipping the drink.

“Ha,” you scoffed. “The rejection letter is on the floor by your feet. Read the second-to-last sentence aloud for Buck, would you?”

He did as requested, voice only raising as he read the statement. “Background?” he shouted, flinging it to Bucky so quickly it may as well have burned him. “What the hell do they mean, ‘background’? That’s got nothin’ to do with your grades!”

Bucky, as usual, was far calmer, thought still annoyed. “He’s right, doll. That’s ridiculous.” You nodded, passing the taller man his own cup of tea. “I’m honestly shocked you’re not more upset.”

You sighed, gesturing to the bow. “I already took my anger out on the hay bale. I’m spent for the day.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll get in eventually,” Steve offered. “Just gotta keep trying.”

———————————————————————

Needless to say, you didn’t make it into college. Your best attempts proved futile in the face of the school boards, so you resorted to learning from books and your mother, who was more than willing to teach you everything she knew about nursing.

Bucky began working full-time down at the docks, and you started working as a librarian in your spare time in an effort to further your knowledge of medicine. Steve, on the other hand, couldn’t find a job that played to his interests or skills.

When his dingy apartment finally broke down, you extended an offer.

The three of you would move in together. Cheaper rent, plus you could keep an eye on Steve. You knew he didn’t need it, but it provided peace of mind knowing he wasn’t being beaten up in some random alley.

Sure, it was taboo. But at that point, you’d given up on caring about standards. If this was your solution, it would have to work.

And it did. You three worked together like a well-oiled machine, paying rent and honing skills. Yours and Buck’s families were understanding, always ready to send food or money if you needed it. However, you managed to make do.

You three were mostly content. You could live your life out with your best friends and have a few dreams that remained out of reach. Maybe get married one day, then die a boring death unfulfilled.

What could you say? You were living in the Great Depression; your expectations weren’t very high. They sank even lower once the war began.

Under your mother’s urges, you tried to enlist as a nurse in the military. Due to the high demand, you were accepted, regardless of background or ethnicity. Of course the only time they would accept you would be in a time of war.

However, you were alright with it. Odds were, you’d never see combat and you would stay safe. Plus the money would be enough to fix up your dingy apartment and get Steve more medicine for his neverending illnesses. You’d be gone for around a year, during which Bucky and Steve would keep up shop until you returned.

All three of you had come to terms with the situation. Sure, they’d miss you and you would miss them, but they knew you would return unharmed, other than some trauma from whatever you would see in those infirmaries.

But then, one day before Steve got home from a diner downtown, Bucky trundled in, envelope in hand and his breath trembling.

“(Y/N), they- I’m-“ You rushed forward, helping him onto the couch. He continued stammering, choking up as he held out the paper.

He had been drafted.

“Oh, God. Buck, I… I’m so sorry,” you whispered, letting him rest his head on your shoulder. You held back your own tears as he gathered himself.

He raised his head, eyes red. “What do we tell Steve?” Freezing, you wracked your brain. Steve was more enthusiastic than most to help fight. He wanted justice for the people in Europe suffering under the Nazi forces. Standing up for what was right had always been his dream. News that his best friend was being sent to fight against his will would wreck him.

You shook your head, words evading you. Bucky only trembled more. When he spoke, his words were weak.

“I’m gonna die over there, (Y/N).”

That broke you from your stupor. “No. No, you aren’t,” you said, gently grabbing his face. “James Buchanan Barnes, you listen to me. You aren’t going to die. I swear it.”

You curled in on each other, with him clinging onto you like a lifeline as you pondered a life without one of your best friends. The three of you didn’t remember life before each other. Only life together.

After a while, he said, “I’m telling Steve I enlisted.” The set in his jaw made it clear he wasn’t budging on this. “I… I can’t let him know. I can’t believe I told you,” he admitted.

“It’s alright, you’re alright.” Gulping, you spared a glance at the paper. “When are you shipping out?”

“Two weeks.” The same time you were.

Shakily standing up, you paced the room. “God, he’s gonna be all alone, Buck. What- How do we even tell him this?”

The door swung open before he could respond. Steve, covered in some new bruises but triumphantly clutching his leather-bound sketchbook in hand. He seemed to notice the melancholy tension, eyeing both of you suspiciously.

“What happened?” he asked, although he definitely did not want to know the answer.

Bucky rose with a wide grin on his face, flawlessly hiding the fear that you knew was bubbling just under the surface. “I enlisted, Stevie. Gonna go punch Hitler in the face and come back with, like, a dozen awards,” he joked.

“Both of you? No one’s gonna keep me out of trouble,” Steve snarked. You ruffled his hair, forcing a smile onto your face. “You better not get into any trouble, punk.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m not the one trying to bring a bow with you to your base. You’re a nurse, not a sniper,” he grumbled.

Shrugging you, eye the weapon. “Who says I can’t be both? I’m pretty good at it.”

“Believe me, I know,” the brunet laughed. “I wouldn’t want to be on the business end of your bow.”

You all squeezed onto the couch, trying to relax as a timer counted down on your head. These little moments, the comfortable schedule, it was all going to shit soon. Too soon.

Two weeks.

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #like the dawn #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #40s stucky #stucky x reader #stucky x winged!reader #avengers x winged!reader #winged!reader

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suzilight · 4 months

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youtube

Like The Dawn - The Oh Hello's

I was sleeping in the garden When I saw you first He'd put me deep, Deep under so that he could work And like the dawn You broke the dark and my whole earth shook I was sleeping in the garden When I saw you At last, at last Bones of my bones and flesh of my flesh, at last You were the brightest shade Of sun I had ever seen Your skin was gilded with The gold of the richest kings And like the dawn You woke the world inside of me You were the brightest shade Of sun when I saw you And you will surely be the death of me But how could I have known?

#music #like the dawn #the oh hellos #lyrics #Youtube

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fidjiefidjie · 4 months

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youtube

Bon Matin 🩷🌲🎸🩵

The Oh Hellos 🎶 Like the Dawn

(Through The Deep, Dark Valley)

#video clip #the oh hellos #visualizer #like the dawn #music video #through the deep dark valley #clip music video #youtube #bon matin #fidjie fidjie

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aletterinthenameofsanity · 11 months

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like the dawn (you woke the world inside of me) (Janto fluff)

Janto. Post-Adam. Lyrics are from “Like the Dawn” by the Oh Hellos. Crossposted on ao3.

I was sleeping in the garden

When I saw you first

He'd put me deep,

Deep under so that he could work

And like the dawn

You broke the dark and my whole earth shook

The thing about memories is that they are fickle creatures. Most people think of them as solid, slowly eroded away by time but unable to be replaced, supplanted, switched out entirely.

Those people have not met creatures like the ones that Torchwood have. They have not met substances like Retcon, which can wipe away memories with targeted precision.

When Ianto wakes up with a head full of missing days and the feeling of lips against his forehead, he is familiar with Retcon. He knows the intimacies of memory destruction and recollection, the pressures that a few days of missing or displaced memories can cause to one's mind.

Around him are his teammates, all of them unconscious. Tosh’s head is cushioned by her arms, her face relaxed in sleep. Owen has his head conked back on his chair, face pointed to the ceiling with mouth slack open. Gwen is leaning sideways in her chair, head half-cushioned by her hand propped under her chin. Cups sit in front of all of them, empty of what seems like plain water- a suspicion confirmed by Ianto leaning forward and wafting the smell of the wet cups to his nose.

There’s just one missing from the circle- the team's erstwhile leader.

Ianto stands on wobbly legs. He doesn’t know why they’re all here, what could have led to this, but he has a rather good idea as to the how even if he doesn’t know the why.

If Ianto is passed out somewhere he doesn’t remember- then Retcon was likely involved. And if Jack is separate, if Jack is somewhere within the Hub, passed out just like them with his memories missing, then it was likely self-inflicted.

Ianto takes no resentment to the idea that Jack might have retconned them all. If Jack judged it necessary to not just the team but himself, then it would likely have been at least somewhat of a group decision. For things as large as this, that affect everyone so personally, Jack is likely to ask in ways that he wouldn't ask a civilian. Jack cares about the team as his family as much as he can.

Ianto makes his way up the stairs on weak but unsteady feet. Whatever happened while they were gone, it left them all passed out for awhile, which means he hasn't eaten or drank in awhile, so the looseness in his legs is to be expected.

At the top of the stairs, the door to Jack's office is closed but- as Ianto quickly finds- unlocked. Ianto nudges open the door and finds his suspicions met- Jack is passed out at his desk, a cup and a tablet in front of him, his coat draped not on the rack where Ianto keeps it but thrown over the back of the extra chair in the office.

Ianto pauses. Here he is: Captain Jack Harkness, second of his name, wearer of so many titles and so many years, face unlined in slumber.

Something in Ianto’s heart aches at the sight of Jack’s face so relaxed in sleep. It is a sight so rare as to be something treasured and encouraged.

Ianto shrugs off his own suit jacket and drapes it over Jack’s shoulders. Jack’s heavy lids flutter, his expression scrunching up in consternation. Ianto grimaces at the sight- he has an appreciation for Jack in all phases, but he has a particular affection for Jack at his most relaxed. When Jack is happy, when he is untroubled, Ianto is comforted. No man’s sorrow is worth Ianto’s tears, but Jack’s happiness is definitely worth Ianto’s contentment.

Jack’s head twists just enough to the side to glimpse Ianto’s profile, giving Ianto a glimpse of Jack’s baby blue eyes beneath the shadows of his lashes. His expression eases and something in Ianto’s heart melts to know that he has that kind of effect on Jack. There are few people that have ever called Ianto comforting, ever indicated he settled them- the list is pretty much limited to Lisa, Jack, and Tosh, and among that select group, Jack is a particularly unique case.

Ianto leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Jack’s forehead. “Get some rest, cariad,” he murmurs, the term of endearment slipping out as naturally as any other Welsh word might. It’s the first time he’s said it aloud to Jack, no matter how many times he's wished to use it.

Jack mumbles something incoherent under his breath and moves his head just enough to be considered a nod before letting his eyes fall shut, at ease in Ianto's presence in a way he likely wouldn't be in most others.

Now that Jack is taken care of, it’s time to think about what to do next. If Jack and the others are due to wake up soon- and Ianto has no indication that they won’t- then there’s no good reason why he can’t have some coffee ready to help them wake. In fact, there’s a decent argument as to why he should: he doesn’t want to deal with Owen’s complaints about a lack of coffee.

Ianto gives Jack’s sleeping form one final, fond smile before turning and exiting Jack’s office.

And like the dawn

You woke the world inside of me

You were the brightest shade

Of sun when I saw you

And you will surely be the death of me

But how could I have known?

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sleepy-sunset · 7 months

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I kept having "Dear Arkansas Daughter" and "Like the Dawn" from playing on repeat in my mind until I ended up listening to "Another Day Of Sun" even though I've never seen La La Land and now my brain has a new resident living rent free in my head

#why am i like this #dear arkansas daughter #like the dawn #another day of sun #la la land #songs #music in my head #music #brain dump #brain rot

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captainpangolin · 2 months

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There's something so special about writing a sunset picnic scene in a fic while the sun is shining through the translucent curtains and "Like the Dawn" by the Oh Hellos is blasting in the background

#like the dawn #the oh hellos #like the dawn the oh hellos #the oh hellos like the dawn #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #creative writing #sunset #the sun #sun #getting emotional about the sunshine yk #sunshine #:>

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slrsunfire · 1 year

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•Like The Dawn•

-Chapter 6-

Naruto Omegaverse AU | Enemies to Lovers |

Pairing: Uchiha Madara/Senju Tobirama

[...The smoke from the irori curled upward towards the ceiling, creating a thin haze that made the soft beams of light pouring in through the carved ranma near the roof all the clearer. Their glow pooled around Tobirama in such a way that it reminded Madara of the many illustrations he had seen of their goddess growing up, and it was a mystifying sight to take in. Like Amaterasu-Ōmikami, the sunlight seemed to bend and curl around Tobirama, as if the light was emanating from him directly and Madara had to force his eyes not to lower on instinct. Even though he knew conceptually it was merely a play of light and smoke at work, he still found himself left breathless by the sight and all that it suggested. ... ]

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43118287/chapters/110763735

#madatobi #mdtb #a/b/o fanfic #Like The Dawn

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soapcan18 · 9 months

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My ocs with Like the Dawn by The Oh Hellos ❤️

This is really old art so it is NOT that good 😭 But they’re so The Oh Hellos coded I wanted to put this somewhere

First one is Hannah, second is Ben! They’re from my complicated childhood paracosm told solely through plushies called, surprise, Ben and Hannah. She was a sheep plushie and he was a panda plushie, but recently I revisited the story and designed them as humans!

This is set when Ben first met Hannah <3 My babies before trauma!! I even wrote a whole scenario based around this but I don’t think anyone would wanna read that

Also I am choosing to ignore the true meaning of Like the Dawn in the context of the album for this SHH IM AWARE IT’S ABOUT BEING DECEIVED JUST LET THE SILLIES BE IN LOVE + THE DEVASTATING LYRICS AT THE END APPLY TO THEM ANYWAY IT ALL WORKS OUT

(Besides Lapis Lazuli works incredibly well with them too and that’s a REAL love song by The Oh Hellos)

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imgonnagetkilledbynutstink · 2 years

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Urging all autistics who fucking LOVE some good drum beats to listen to the Audiotree live video of The Oh Hellos singing Like The Dawn cause DAYUM

#the oh hellos #toh #like the dawn #autism #tism #stim #stimming #auditory stimming

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lizzie-is-here · 2 years

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like the dawn

part ix- freefall

“i wish i had a thousand words for love, but all that comes to mind is the way you move against me while you sleep and there are no words for that.” - brian andreas

summary: after the avengers publicly drop the accords, you have to help pick up the mess. all while dealing with some very complicated feelings.

wordcount: 4.4k

warnings: cussing, paparazzi, the press sucking, trauma, steve feeling left out 🥺, pining, arguing, guilt, a brief moment of what could be seen as su!c!dal behavior?

a/n: sorry this took so long! also that it’s kind of random and jumps around lol. gen eds have been kicking my ass and i’ve been drowning in work but the parties here are good and i’ve managed to avoid the sororities 😭 love u guys hope you enjoy!! 🤍 also peep the parallel from when bucky and reader fell asleep on a mission and now 👀

ps: pls help decide my next series! i’ll be posting it again later to try again, but there are three options! 🤍

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey

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“Wait, you’re dropping the Accords?”

You huff as the group of superheroes bustle around one single board room. It’s been 20 hours since Siberia, and you still haven’t gotten to sleep.

Tony put out a formal announcement dropping the Accords hours earlier, promising that his lawyers would deal with the property damages. Now, until some of the mess gets cleared up, everyone involved is stuck.

In the Avengers Compound. Together. For at least a month.

“How do we know we can trust them?” Sam asks, flinging a hand at the other side of the room. Steve begins to explain your reasoning as you sink further into the corner. You don’t want to be seen right now, much less dragged into the conversation.

The compound is full of technology, with doors that open for you and some disembodied voice called FRIDAY. You like FRIDAY. She sounds nice.

The robot, who you now know is called the Vision, frowns. “Sergeant Barnes and Agent (L/N) have extensive charges to be dealt with, as well as most of Captain Rogers’s team. Are we sure we're going about this the right way?”

“The fact that we stay together is more important than how,” Natalia reiterates. “And besides, I know those two.” You glance up guiltily, curling even further in on yourself. “They aren’t going to pull anything.”

Tony massages the spot between his eyebrows as you’ve often seen him do lately. He hasn’t been necessarily rude, no, but more… apprehensive.

“Well, if we’re going to be stuck together, we might as well get used to it,” he announces. I’ll have FRIDAY show you all to your rooms. We can head into town tomorrow for decorations, pillows, all that fun stuff.”

You get your own room? Following the AI’s instructions, you wind down a hallway as Bucky follows you, Steve trailing along. He won’t admit it, but he feels out of place in your trio now.

As horrible as your time in HYDRA was, it undeniably strengthened the bond between you two. And Steve? He can’t help but feel a bit behind.

You and Bucky seem to communicate on some subconscious level. A brief glance and he’s getting you water, a shaky breath and you’re resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

You open the door to your room first and practically freeze in the doorway. Yes, the room is pretty bare right now. The ceilings are noticeable though. A large, round bed with a metal frame and matching furniture fills the carpeted floors. Some curtains, a small TV, and a view over the compound grounds. Opening a door inside the room, you find a private bathroom. All your own.

You’ve never been more grateful to have a place to stay. Bucky sits on the bed tentatively, almost startling at how soft and plush it is.

“Why’s it round?” he asks, tracing the edge.

Steve chuckles. “Tony won’t admit it, but he did his research. Figured a round bed would be easier to navigate with wings.”

You want to hop on, but to be honest, you’re sweaty, greasy, and absolutely dying to see why there are two showerheads and a whole shelf of bottles, so you gesture to the bathroom.

“I’m gonna get the dirt off. I’ll be right back,” you call, wandering in and leaving your boys behind. They grin in unison.

Bucky lifts up a hand and begins to count. “1, 2, 3-“

“Steve?” Your voice echoes. “How do I turn on the shower?”

The brunet nods. “Told you.” Steve heads to the door, knocking before stepping inside. After pointing out all of the different shampoos and how to adjust the temperature, he leaves you be.

Back in your room, Bucky’s fiddling with the TV. He manages to turn it on and avoid the news channel, offering the remote to Steve. As casually as ever, he immediately identifies what’s been on the latter’s mind.

“You’re not some third wheel,” he mumbles.

“What?”

“Cut the crap, Rogers. You look like a kicked puppy.” Steve huffs, giving in. Bucky’s always been a bit too good at reading him. “I know we aren’t the exact same people we were back then. I’m not sure if that’s what you were expecting-” He clenches his metal hand. “-But we… Whatever happened, we’re still the same, on some level, at least.”

The blond considers his words. “You two just seem so… close now. Even with the whole memory thing, you know everything about each other.” He glances at your bathroom door. “I feel like I don’t know as much as I want to.”

Bucky shrugs. “Well, we’re stuck in this compound for a few weeks at least. Got plenty of time to learn.”

“It’ll take some time,” he continues, “70 years in HYDRA is no joke. But I know I trust you. And I know she trusts you. And I know we have for a long, long time.”

You step out of the bathroom just then, wrapped in a fluffy towel with a small yet beaming grin on your face. The shower was heavenly, clearly.

“Do you want some clothes?” Steve asks, watching your eyes widen further. He opens a drawer, pulling a tank top and some sweats for you. A moment later, after you change, you literally soar onto the bed face-first, sinking into the blanket with a contented sigh.

Bucky runs a hand over one wing. You cleaned your feathers, but now they need to be preened. And he did promise he’d show Steve.

“You mind if I teach Steve a valuable skill?” he asks, only half-joking. Taking care of your wings is his way of showing that he cared when words were either too much or too little. The same way you showed that you care every time you pleaded with him to heal the pain in his shoulder, even temporarily. He never did let you, though.

You nod, stretching them out with a groan. Ink-black and shimmering with hidden colors, they touch each end of the bed as they lay across Steve and Bucky’s laps.

“See feathers like this?” Bucky begins, pointing out one that got a bit rustled in the shower. He gently pinches it at the base and smooths the barbs down. “If too many get like that, it can affect waterproofing and flight.”

You snort under your breath. “Yeah, had to learn that the hard way. Ran into a window,” you huff. The brunet points to another feather.

“You try.”

Steve is beyond careful. He touches the feather like it’ll snap in his hand, smoothing it out with delicate precision. When you don’t react negatively, only reach for the remote and begin to search for a history channel, he continues.

“What’s it like? Living here?” you ask, humming softly.

Steve keeps his focus on your wings, but shrugs. “Not bad. Gets a bit loud sometimes.”

“And the team?”

“They’re good. I trust them, they do the same.” He carefully avoids the word ‘family’. “We’ll get this all sorted, and maybe we can get you a job in the infirmary or something.”

You stir. “What? No, I want to work with you. I want to get back on the field.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Steve says. “You don’t have to fight anymore, no one’s going to expect you to.”

Bucky, who had been occupied with the TV, cuts in. “She’s right. I want back in. If we have a chance to do good, and reverse some of what we did, we need to take it.”

“Exactly.” You nod, which seems to only frustrate Steve.

“Neither of you need to be charging back into a fight! You’ve been fighting for decades, you need a break.”

“You’re still raiding old HYDRA bases, correct?” you ask. The name sickens you. “We know more about… them, than anyone. We’d be valuable assets.”

Steve shakes his head. “You’re not assets,” he insists. “Why are you so set on this?”

“Because we almost killed you,” Bucky snaps. “We promised Sarah we’d keep you safe, and we were the ones who almost took you out.”

“That was in 1927, we were in fourth grade,” Steve sighs. “Plus, it was before the serum, and all-” He waves a vague hand around. “-this.”

Throughout the whole argument, neither had ceased preening your wings, and upon finding all of your feathers in place, had resorted to fiddling with them. You let out a deep groan, sitting up and folding your wings behind you.

“This is stupid. We don’t even know if we’re going to prison yet,” you mumble. “We’ve gotten you into enough trouble, Steve. We just want to help you out.”

He eases, tension leaving his shoulders. “And I just want you two to be okay. We’ll get you introduced to the modern world, and then maybe- and it’s a big maybe - we can talk about missions.”

That settles down the argument, and you lay down again between the two.

“Don’t you have a room too, Buck?” you ask. He freezes for a second, but nods. You get it. You’ve been sleeping near each other for so long that separating is scary. But it’s probably better for both of you. Probably.

Rolling from your bed, you follow Steve as he steps only two rooms down. His room is in the middle.

Bucky opens the door, pleased to find some blackout curtains already hung up. His room is similar to yours, though the bed is a bit smaller and a heating pad is folded up on the nightstand.

He’s about to lay on his own bed when a knock sounds on the door and Natalia peeks in.

“Are you all gonna come to dinner? Or are you gonna argue again?” You aren’t sure how she heard. She was always sneaky.

“We’ll come,” you say, trailing behind her as Bucky and Steve stay behind for a moment.

“So,” she says. “The Angel of Death is secretly the (Y/N) (L/N). As in, ‘the only bow sniper in World War II, first female SHIELD agent, save Director Carter herself,’ (Y/N) (L/N).”

“Between us, I always looked up to you. Especially after escaping the Red Room. I knew you were out there somewhere.”

She grins, bouncing gracefully along the halls.

“You don’t… hate me?” you venture, struggling to keep up with her pace.

She shakes her head. “No, you were just as trapped as I was. I can’t hate you for that.”

You allow a small grin to yourself, shoulders lighter as she turns a corner and enters the kitchen.

“Thanks, Natalia,” you say.

“Natasha.” She passes you a glass of water and extends a hand as if introducing herself. “Romanoff.”

You play along. “(Y/N) (L/N).”

Dinner turns out to be courtesy of Wanda, and the smell of a Sokovian dish is pleasantly overwhelming as she serves plates. Instead of a chair, she magics a tall stool over for you. You eat gratefully, enjoying your first home-cooked meal in over 70 years.

The table is separated into the previous teams, with occasional glares thrown here and there. Mainly between Steve and Tony.

“Would you two quit it?” Wanda chides. “Your thoughts are so aggressive.”

Scott Lang, mid-chew and leaning over the table, raises his hand. “So how does that work? Can you just, read everyone’s minds?” That sends an uncomfortable shiver through you. Even if she means well, you don’t want her peering into your thoughts.

Thankfully, she shakes her head.

“No, just the loud ones.” She points to Tony, Steve, Peter, and him. Then, she turns to you, Natasha, and Bucky. “I can’t read them at all.”

Bucky nods. “I doubt you’d want in there, anyways.”

———————————————————————

After dinner, you help clean up, awkwardly avoid Tony, and head to bed after saying goodnight to Steve and Bucky. You turn the TV on to a random channel for some noise, secure the room, and lay down.

Sleeping isn’t easy. Or, at least, trying to. The bed is so soft you feel like you’re sinking, the blankets are too comfortable, and your wings have a surprising amount of room.

And after you finally get close to sleep, the memories sink in. With nothing but the quiet sound from the TV, there’s nothing to distract you.

Your time in HYDRA is never clearer than at night.

Endless training regimens that you’ve memorized cycle through your head. Different experiments, new recruits fighting back but always succumbing to the iron grip of the guards. And screaming. Lots of it.

How you forgot the names of your best friends when one was right in front of you and the other was a national hero. How scared you are that you’ll forget them again. Your hand twitches towards the nightstand drawer where your notebooks lie.

Pages and pages describing them both, with every memory you have in some attempt to never forget them, no matter what happens.

But what if HYDRA gets you? What if they put you back in that goddamn chair and scramble your brain again?

What if they don’t stop you in time?

Your mental spiral is cut off by you doing what you know best. Hopping out of bed and summoning a ball of light, you walk down the hallway to Bucky’s room.

He opens the door before you even knock. As silent as your footsteps are, enhanced hearing picks up everything.

“You too?” You nod. Glancing towards Steve’s room, he slips into Russian.

“Он чувствует себя... изолированным. Мы можем… [He’s been feeling… isolated. Can we…]?” He waves a hand to Steve’s door, wordlessly asking if you’re okay with opening this part of yourself up to him. Without hesitation, you knock.

Clearly, Steve wasn’t getting much sleep either. His lamp is on and he doesn’t seem shocked to see you waiting.

None of you say anything as he lets you both in, tosses the covers on his bed back, and turns off his lamp. You crawl in on one side, Bucky on the other- just like before when you’d keep Steve warm when the heat kicked off and his countless illnesses kicked on.

You feel an arm wrap around your shoulders and you reach across the blond to lay a hand on the brunet’s shoulder.

And you sleep. And in the morning, when the rest of the team comes looking and find the three of you peacefully tucked under the covers, none of them wake you either.

———————————————————————

It’s three days later, after keeping up the same routine with your boys without acknowledging it, when you run into Tony in the early morning. You’re standing in the kitchen, frozen on the spot as you grab the orange juice.

The genius never seemed to sleep. But you’d never run into him.

“I’m not gonna tackle you for getting a drink, geez,” he mutters, passing you to start the coffee maker.

You pour three glasses, hoping he doesn’t notice. He does, but doesn’t comment.

“Thank you.” You barely speak above a whisper. You’re living in his compound, off of his money, after killing his parents. “For all of this.”

Tony softens. From his dad and his history books, he’d formed an idea of you that was confident and proud. But here you were in the kitchen, afraid of pouring too much orange juice lest there isn’t enough for someone else.

The way you and Bucky have been trying to make yourselves as small as possible reminds Tony of himself. Howard was a busy man, who didn’t really want a toddler running around his legs. So young Tony learned to stay quiet and undisruptive.

It’s the same behavior, even if it doesn’t work as well for a metal-armed assassin and an archer with a ten-foot wingspan.

“You’re welcome,” he finally says. “You know, if you drink all the orange juice, all I’m gonna do is send you and Barnes and Noble on a grocery run.” The teasing is his way of apologizing for the fight in Siberia. Even if he isn’t ready to forgive the other two, he’s willing to give you a pass.

Tony leaves without another word, taking his coffee with him. Balancing the drinks in your arms, you head back to Steve’s room. When you open the door, your boys are already up. A side effect of the serum; you needed much less sleep.

“Morning,” they greet. You smile, passing off the glasses as you stretch. Being stuck inside has started to bother you. Not that you’d complain, but without access to the gym (which is constantly full of nosy SHIELD agents) or outside, you’re getting a bit antsy.

Peeking through the curtains to the compound grounds, you turn away from the window just as Bucky and Steve get up and start getting ready. None of you have even spoken about the sleeping situation.

Falling asleep is easier with them. Breathing is easier with them. Everything is.

Maybe it’s time to stop avoiding the subject of those letters you wrote.

“There’s a team meeting this morning,” Steve calls from the bathroom. “Apparently, we got some updates on what we’re allowed to do now. Hopefully we can get you guys out of this compound for the day.”

“Where’d we go?” Bucky asks, pressing the knots out of his left shoulder.

“Well, there’s always this museum in Brooklyn. Whole thing’s based on us there.”

You tear your eyes away from the shirtless brunet. “We’ve got a museum?”

“Yeah. Replica of our apartment, some old items of ours. Plus, we’ve got an exhibit in the Smithsonian. Your lockbox is there.”

The box. You had thought it’d been destroyed.

“They didn’t open it, did they?” Steve shakes his head.

“They’ve got the key, but kept it locked out of respect. Especially now that you’re back.” Thank fuck. You might have to go and get that back if you aren’t tossed in prison.

Bucky finally picks a shirt and tugs it on. “That’d be nice. Might go crazy if I have to talk to Wilson anymore.”

“Go easy on him, he’s trying to be nice,” you tell him.

You take your time getting ready, lazily navigating around each other as the sun rises and the compound starts getting busier. Around 7:00, you decide to head to the designated board room.

After a few days, you’ve gotten much better at navigating the compound. The Avengers’ meeting room is one of many down the hall from the first floor elevators, the third room on the left with the door always left open.

Meetings and dinner are the only times the whole group is together. Probably for the best, since some members have been going a bit stir-crazy.

The teen, Peter, spends most of his time around Tony, but when he isn’t following the billionaire he’s talking to you, Steve, or Bucky. Something about how he can pass US History now that he knows you.

Scott Lang has resorted to sleight-of-hand card tricks, practicing them for anyone who will watch. He’s pretty good, all things considered.

Everyone else has been doing alright with the confined space. Except you, you’re reminded as your wings ache.

You’re the first ones to arrive, shortly followed by the assassin duo and Sam. Everyone else filters in shortly after, with Tony arriving last with a new cup of coffee.

“Well, we’re starting the day off with some good news. We’re allowed to leave the Compound now, just not go out of state.”

When no one else asks, you give in. “And the bad news?”

He sighs. “Lots of that. Secretary of State Thaddeus Ross is pressing charges. I’ve got my team on it, but…” Hesitating, he projects a screen. Holographic. You try your best to focus on the video and not the tech.

“National War Heroes Sgt. James Barnes and Agent (Y/N) (L/N) were found to be the infamous Winter Soldier and Angel of Death just a year ago. Now, they’ve gotten involved with the Avengers, and the most recent dispute over the Accords, which would put the Avengers under control of the United Nations.”

“Earlier this week, Tony Stark announced that the Avengers would not be supporting the Accords, and is moving to gain the rights to operate independently. But with the track record of Barnes and (L/N), it’s not proving to be an easy task.”

The newsreel cuts away from the woman, showing a march at a Texas courthouse. Some people carried signs calling you a traitor, pictures of you and Bucky with marks drawn through them. They labeled you murderers and monsters.

Neither of you says anything about it. Just exchange a glance and try to ignore the familiarity of the words they shout.

“Only time can tell how this will end for Earth’s Mightiest Heroes,” the reporter finishes.

Your stomach turns. You can feel the lingering eyes as you hunch in on yourself, staring at the expensive-looking table and tracing the lines in the wood. Your wings twitch, giving you away.

“Hey, the good news is that a bunch of people are supporting us,” Peter says, checking his phone. “There’s a few petitions going for the team and you two.” You smile gratefully, still worrying a line into the table.

“What can we do to make this easier?” you ask.

Tony sighs. “We need to get the public opinion of you up. If we send you out for errands and you make a good impression with the press…” He trails off as Bucky grows visibly nervous. “...If you’re willing to try it, it’s worth a shot.”

You nod. “I will. If it helps you, I’ll try.”

“I can come too, just to help mediate if something goes wrong,” Steve offers, mainly directing his words to the brunet who won’t look up from his left hand.

Bucky steels his nerves and nods. “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll do it.”

Sam speaks up, gesturing to the team. “So, now that we’re not stuck lazing around, shouldn’t we get back to training? Having a routine will help with whatever’s coming and exercise is a good outlet.”

“Plus it’s a chance to get you flying again,” Steve says. “I know your wings are sore.”

The group starts putting together a workout circuit, scheduling who gets the gym at what times, who wants to train with who. The weather outside is pleasant, not too hot, and with a light fog covering the grounds.

Slipping away, you wander around until you glance to the ceiling. “Hey, FRIDAY?”

“Yes, Ms. (L/N)?” You smile at her gentle voice.

“Where’s the nearest roof access?”

She guides you down a few hallways, eventually pointing out a stairwell. When you finally open the door to the roof, stretching your wings wide, you nearly sob in relief. In HYDRA, you only flew when you had to. But flying for yourself had become one of your favorite things ever since Bucky suggested it as a way to reclaim that part of yourself.

Bending your knees, you launch yourself into the air, squinting against the wind as you rise in the early light. The air is heavy with dew, and condensation runs off your feathers as you reach your desired height.

And you drop.

Freefalling is a moment of peace. It’s absolute bliss to give into gravity and have a moment of true, stomach-dropping exhilaration. It’s not fear, it’s not joy. But it makes you feel human.

It never lasts long, though. You spread your wings and break the fall right above the compound, swerving around the building. You don’t notice that the door you left triggered a notification to the board room or the team watching.

Unaware of them, you loop and spin to your heart’s content before landing back on the roof. Shaking the water from your wings, you hurry back down the stairwell and back to the team.

Thankfully, they don’t mention seeing your little joyride. You slide back onto a stool and apologize for running off.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ve been cooped up long enough,” Natasha grins. “We were just discussing when to send you three out.”

“And since we’re out of milk because someone-” Tony glares pointedly at Scott. “-has a cereal addiction, we figured today would be good.”

That’s sooner than you thought. Well, best to get it over with.

———————————————————————

You let Steve drive. He knows his way through the city and is the least prone to road rage, so you take the back seat while Bucky takes the front and mans the radio.

Steve pulls up by a grocery store and grabs the list, warning you about the paparazzi before he opens the door and a crowd descends on you.

You dodge eager hands as they reach for your wings and Bucky’s arm. Cameras flash as you try not to look too panicked for the photos.

“Ms. (L/N)! Is it true you were brainwashed under HYDRA?” Glancing to Steve, he nods in approval.

You lean towards the microphone as the reporters also lean in.

“Yes, that’s true.”

They scramble at your words and you flinch away, backing into your friends.

“What do you mean by that?” one asks.

Clearing your throat, the words flow easier as you go on. “HYDRA perfected a form of electric-shock treatment that could brainwash us when combined with trigger words.”

Even though they continue to press for more quotes to take out of context, you make it inside the store and finally get to breathe. Sure, you’ve been in groceries before, but the variety in the 21st century continues to amaze you.

While Steve works his way down the list, methodically stacking the products in the two carts, you and Bucky go a bit crazy. With his permission, you both grab things at random, tossing them into the cart with no regard to Steve’s organization.

By the time you check out, you’ve grabbed marshmallow fluff, a mango, a few chocolate bars, and some ice cream. Flinching at the price, you help carry the bags to the car to make up for the extra items.

It’s drizzling and the sidewalks are much less busy now, and no one approaches you as you sit in the car peacefully.

“I’m glad to have you two back,” Steve says eventually. ‘I care about you more than you know, and I’ll fight every government in the world if I have to,’ he thinks.

“I’m glad to be back,” Bucky agrees. “We got pretty lucky. We all made it back together in alright shape.”

You feel more at home than ever. It’s an all-encompassing sort of comfort that you don’t have the words to express. It’s the being carried to bed and being given the last bite of food kind of feeling. It’s knowing that you’re cared for, and wanted, and-

You know the closest word to describe it, but don’t dare utter it.

Instead, you smile, think about the letters in the lockbox, and watch as cars pass by.

“Well. the universe couldn’t keep us apart forever. We made a pinkie promise, after all.”

#marvel #marvel x reader #x reader #avengers x reader #avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #like the dawn #steve rogers x fem!reader #steve rogers x winged!reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x winged!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x winged!reader #bucky x reader #stucky x reader

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littlecarnet · 1 year

Text

Like the Dawn - Chapter 7

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When the got to the fairgrounds, everything was in full swing.

Booths offering all sorts of foods from magicarp shaped pastries stuffed with all sorts of fillings, sizzling grilled vegetable pancakes, sticky sweet dumplings, and tossed fried noodles in a variety of sauces and spices, as well as lots of savory and sweet treats for pokemon. The smells were exotic to Giratina, nothing like the foods he knew long ago, but they did look appealing, the humans and pokemon eating them seemed to really enjoy them.

As promised, Cynthia got him Pinapberry ice cream while her's was a strawberry milk flavor with a drizzle of chocolate on top. They enjoyed these sweet treats as they watched the parade exhibiting giant paper mache lanterns depicting scenes from various myths. Cynthia was quick to point out one depicting him.

At first Giratina was expecting the typical depiction. One of being a violent creature and then being banished by his parent. But was surprised to see him looking ferociously at a human figure that resembled Cyrus. The banner above the cart read ' Distortion's Ruler Stops Apocalypse'. He watched it pass by absolutely stunned. Cynthia who smiled at his reaction.

" You were involved with that, weren't you?" He asked.

She shook her head. " Not entirely. The class I taught in Sinnoh History were inspired by my account of what happened on Spear Pillar and what you did to stop Cyrus, so they built the lantern to commemorate the event."

He was touched. So that action hadn't been forgotten. It was being displayed for everyone here tonight as well as a brand new generation, who will now know him not as a monster but a hero. His hand wrapped around her's. Could he love her even more?

" Thank you."

The evening that followed was a wonderful set of events. Giratina watched Cynthia roll up her sleeves to fish for toys floating in a water basin and then throwing darts, proving to spectators that she was more than just amazing in battle but formidable in games of skill too. She came back to him with a haul of items such as a cute Goldeen plush, a few fans depicting Ho-Oh and Lugia, and two water yoyos decorated like an Ultra ball and Dusk ball. She gave the later to Giratina, and with a bit of guidance, he learned how to use it.

Not wanting to leave him out of the fun she showed him a simple game of strength, he was hesitant at first, not sure if he kept his abilities, but was surprised to ring that bell. He picked out a Haunter mask out of the prizes. She teased him. Of course he'd pick a ghost type.

Cynthia hadn't had this much fun in a long time, and she had to admit this felt like a date. Well, they were a couple now, right? This could be their first date. She was sure others were watching them. There would definitely be rumors tomorrow. Not because the town had any press or media, but that small towns often talked. That was fine. Better some little old lady teasing her about the strange young man linked arm in arm with her, than international gossip on Giratina's identity and trying to harass him. She was no stranger to that. She even had to deal with rumors that she was dating Steven Stone. Despite the fact he was gay and already had a lover. But tabloids never got the facts right. Steven thought it was hilarious. Cynthia was less than amused.

She was however a bit concerned about how long this would last. Today would be Giratina's second day as a human, tomorrow, his last. They wouldn't be able to do all the things she wanted to in public with him. To modern society it would be met with a lot of criticism, scandal... the Sinnoh Champion in love with a creature like him? Were humans not good enough for her? Oh she could imagine the news.

In this town, it wouldn't be any better. The fact he was a pokemon deity would likely have the elders disapprove of their relationship. The Celestica believed pokemon like him were above humans, to want an intimate relationship with one was taboo. She was surprised her grandmother hadn't said anything about it, but then again, she was much more open-minded. Or prehaps Giratina charmed her enough that she felt he was a good match? Whatever the reason for her acceptance, she was glad her grandmother treated him so nicely.

No, the only way they could be together once he transforms back, would be the Distortion World. Which was already what they were doing prior to all this, but her stays would be extended. Giratina could easily create a livable environment for her, house-like structures already existed, and it would be a completely new world to explore. She was sure he'd love her visits. Heck, maybe she could move there. She'd likely be the first human to do so.

Cynthia didn't want to dwell on this though. She needed to make his last day tomorrow count. Give him as much of a good experience as possible. She tugged him toward a ring toss game, and with some guidance, they got two bags of kettle corn and some bottles of lemonade. She'd been hoping for the latter especially. The clinking of the glass marbles was nostalgic for her because her grandfather would always buy a few of them as souvenirs from Johto. They were rare or next to impossible to find outside of that region.

Giratina surprisingly had lost himself in the atmosphere of the festival. The best part was that no one knew who he was. People were so nice to him, he got some unexpected freebies from booths, got to participate in a dance, and while he missed up a lot, the whole experience made him feel like he was one of them. Even though he knew this wouldn't last, he'd still take it all in. Preserve it in his mind as a beautiful memory forever.

His felt a gentle squeeze of his hand from Cynthia. She was tugging him up from his seat.

" Come on! The fireworks are starting, and I know the perfect place to view them away from the crowd."

She led them up a small set of steps away from the fairgrounds, toward a forgotten shrine, one of many in this part of the region. She sat down on a stone bench, motioning Giratina to sit next to her. He took a seat just as the first loud boom and crackle lit up the sky in a dazzling shimmer of light. He'd seen fireworks from his vantage point in the Distortion World, but the colors and sounds were much more dull and muffled. But here? These were incredible. The sound, the colors, even the smell. It was nothing like that poor imitation inside his portals. Even better that he was here with Cynthia, leaning on his shoulder. The colors and lights dancing in her eyes. She looked up at him, smiled.

It was here he realized that being transformed like this wasn't so bad. Yes, he missed his true form, his abilities, his home, but that now seemed a worthwhile cost for this chance to spend time with her like this, to know what its like to be part of a community. At least until he had to go back to how he was. What would happen then? He knew she'd still love him, but they could never express it openly like they were now. They'd have to hide how they felt about each other around others.

The fireworks now felt like a reflection of his feelings about these past days.

Maybe they were on the wavelength and that sense of urgency to make this night count flowed through because before he knew it, her lips were on his. Soft, yet eager, and tasting like cotton candy. He broke the kiss, surprised by her forward gesture, and then returned it just as eager. Surprising them both.There was an intense desire flaring up, like some barrier had been broken, and now nothing stood between them. In this moment in time, they were the same, no incapable forms, no hidden feelings, just two beings so desperately, utterly, hopelessly in love.

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They stumbled into the house fumbling with each other. A few escaped laughs and shushing, though Cynthia assured him her grandmother wasn't home. She wouldn't be for awhile. She was helping her friends with the festival raffle.

Between kisses, Cynthia fiddled with the house keys, getting the door open, and then tumbled into the living room, her bedroom, then the bed.

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Author's notes:

Okay stopping here because of Tumblr's guidelines, but I'll get the rest out on a03 sometime next week, if nothing else goes wrong over there. I'm still a bit hesitant with that site. Once bitten, twice shy as they say.

#pokemon fanfiction #cynthia and giratina #like the dawn

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