#willjemma

[apathbacktoyou]

Here comes the sun by @florchis

Jemma doesn't need a soul mark to know that Will has entered her life to stay.

A Soulmate AU fic rec for @agentsofchallenges‘ March Madness

[shirilily]

Here comes the sun

[AO3] {Willjemma, rated G, ~1K}

Summary: Jemma doesn't need a soul mark to know that Will has entered her life to stay.

For @bobbimorseisbisexual ❤️

Sneak-Peak: 

It fades to the back of her mind sometimes, because it feels like something that belongs to a different Jemma in a different life. Sure, the memory of her best friends is still stark and clear in her mind, but memories can not beat down miles and miles of sand, and the apathy of knowing something loved is lost and can not be regained back. Soul marks don’t matter here. They are the two sole people in this godforsaken planet: there is no way they were not meant to be together.

[elenarodriiguez]

if the pain is endless how can i live? | w.d. & j.s.

summary: jemma always hoped that one day will would come back to her. she never thought she’d have to stipulate alive or dead.

pairing: will daniels x jemma simmons

cw: drug addiction, character death

word count: 1479

read it on ao3

Will is dead.

Funny how three little words, ten whole letters, could shatter someone’s world like it was nothing. Like it was the easiest thing in the whole entire world. She doesn’t know what’s worse: the vehement denial she lived in when the police were at her front door or seeing his lifeless corpse on the autopsy table.

Will had never been dull, or lifeless for that matter. He’d always been so bright and lively, joking with everyone he met, teasing Jemma just to make her smile. Even when he got hurt at work, he’d never lost his spark. It had waned somewhat, but it wasn’t gone completely.

Jemma feels terrible as she stares at him, a silent procession of tears streaming down her face, because he looks so wrong. It isn’t just the lifelessness that comes with corpses, he’d changed drastically since she’d last seen him. His eyes were sunken in, he was far too skinny, his stubble was too long and untamed and his lips were horribly chapped.

She didn’t want to remember him like this. The good times, before the accident, hell even for a while after, those are how she wants him to appear in her mind. Not like this. The ultimatum hadn’t been enough for him to live, and in a way she’d known that for months now, but here he is, dying proof of the fact.

In a selfish way she wishes that the divorce papers had made their way to him. This way she wouldn’t be next of kin, she wouldn’t be in the police station identifying his body, it would be his mother’s job. God, his mother. They’d kept in touch, after the separation, but never did she think this would be the end of their obligations to one another.

“How did he die?” She asks the chief medical examiner, a tall blonde woman with warm eyes she couldn’t make contact with.

“The toxicology results haven’t come back yet, but our preliminary findings indicate it was a fatal overdose. Detective Hunter from the Drug Unit and Lieutenant May from the Suspicious Deaths Unit will want to speak to you later, if they haven’t done so already.”

“Yes, I know. They were the ones who did the notice.” Jemma says, her voice barely louder than a whisper as she stares at her dead husband. “Is this my fault?”

“Mrs Daniels-” Dr. Morse says, only to be interrupted by Jemma correcting her, her voice hitching as she tries to maintain composure. “Dr. Simmons, excuse me for talking out of place but there was nothing you could have done to save him, from his addiction or his death. The fact that you’re here right now is testament to the relationship you both had before your separation.”

“Okay.” The medical examiner pretends not to notice the brunette harshly scrubbing her tears from her cheeks, hovering a step behind her. “Am I free to leave? I already spoke with them, I really would like to go home now.”

“Of course, is there anyone I can call for you, anyone who can drive you home, look after you?”

“I already called someone, he’s waiting outside. Please, help them catch whoever gave him the drugs, I don’t want his death to be in vain.”

“It won’t be, thanks for your time Dr. Simmons.”

With a terse nod of her head, she follows Dr. Morse out of the precinct, a cardigan wearing man stretching his arms out wide for her the moment she clears the metal detectors. She falls into his arms, her soft sniffles turning into heartbroken sobs as she lets out a wail, barely muffled by the soft fabric. He clings to her even tighter, ignoring the looks the both of them are receiving by the crowd of civilians and police staff alike milling around them.

As the guy escorts her out of the building, she turns to head back downstairs, pressing the down arrow on the elevator before pressing the up one a second later. It wouldn’t do any harm to bug Hunter with her findings and encourage him to hurry it along a little. She just hopes that his death didn’t have to be for nothing after all. If not for his sake, then the widow who was now mourning two versions of the same man.

A week later, Jemma gets another call from the police district, asking that she come to collect his personal belongings as they release his body to the funeral home. When Fitz hears of it, he offers to go with her, not taking her halfhearted refusals for an answer, and together they make their way down to the precinct. Ever since she’d had the notification, Jemma had been wrought with guilt, blaming herself for not being able to fix him or save him from himself.

What ifs had been coursing through her mind, keeping her up until the earliest hours of the morning, her dreams filled with twisted versions of her favourite memories with him, and his body haunted her mind every time she shut her eyes. If it weren’t for the fact that his mother had already flown back to Toronto to prepare his funeral, she would have insisted that she collect them for her, but here she was. Just about standing on her own two feet, wearing his old NASA shirt and a pair of leggings, her hair a matted greasy mess.

Her dishevelled appearance only draws the attention of the civilians in the building, the staff much more accustomed to the sight of grieving family members, but Jemma can’t find it in herself to care all that much. Next to Fitz, who was dressed in his work clothes as he’d been about to leave for the university when she got the call, she looks even more pathetic, probably why she gets more pitying looks than scathing glares of disapproval. One of the desk officers, a man named Officer Davis, offers to take them up to the Suspicious Deaths Unit floor to meet with Lieutenant May, but they politely refuse his offer, having both been up there multiple times in the past week and knowing how to get up there.

The elevator takes far too much and too little time to reach the floor, and when they walk in, Lieutenant May is ready and waiting for them both, ushering them into her office without saying a word. His belongings easily fit into a brown box, and Jemma mourns who he used to be, knowing that before his accident he’d had a life with her, that they’d had a house together and were planning on getting a dog or a cat together.

And he’d wound up here. Not even a filebox worth of things. She doesn’t hear the older woman step out of the office, all she can stare at is the wallet in the box, a prepaid phone, his favourite hoodie and a pair of trainers she’d bought him for his last birthday with her. Pulling the wallet from the things, she thumbs through the various sections, a choked out sob coming out the second she sees one of their wedding pictures, creased and worn from folding it over and over again. 

Clutching it to her chest, her sobs increasing in strength tenfold, she flings the wallet in Fitz’s direction, not noticing when he opens the coin section and empties it out on the desk. Before them are dozens of chips from NA and AA, citing days, weeks, even months of sobriety. The highest value one was a 90 day one, and Fitz flips it across his knuckles while Jemma rocks back and forth in the chair, very nearly creasing the picture further.

As her tears slowly subside, she looks up to see the chips and starts crying again, this time slow but steady tears that she can’t stop, her distress silent rather than loud enough for the whole world to hear. When the older woman slips back in, a solemn look on her face, Fitz gently shakes Jemma’s shoulder and starts to place all of Will’s things back into the box, allowing the widow to hold onto the picture while he sorts out everything else.

“Dr. Simmons, Jemma.” Lieutenant May says as they’re both walking out of the office. “If I could offer you some advice.”

“Sure.” She whispers, not looking away from the picture for one minute.

“Live for him. Live the life he’ll never get to have. Don’t let your grief consume you. He obviously loved you a lot, don’t let all of that love go to waste.”

“Thank you.”

As the pair leave the squad room, Jemma still clinging onto his picture tightly while Fitz rubs her arm, May hopes the young woman manages to climb out of the grief spiral, before it’s too late for her to do much of anything at all.

[sneakybiskit]

"Time is fake" jemma/Hive(Will)

Okay, this is an extremely interesting concept, and thank you for being patient, and thank you for prompting!!

15. Time is fake.

Jemma sat up out of bed in the morning and stretched, reaching for the ceiling above her. Her back popped a little as she moved. There was only the light from the alarm clock on their bedside table lighting the room before she reached out and turned the bedside lamp on. Will groaned, and sat up behind her, pushing into her back to kiss along her bare shoulder.

“Come back to bed,” he said sleepily. 

His voice was different, and Jemma had to force herself not to question it. She was endlessly curious, but she couldn’t know. She couldn’t let reality ruin this, not yet; he was here finally and that was all that mattered.

“I can’t. I have to get to work.”

“No, stay,” he mumbled. 

“God, I wish I could, but I have to get to the lab. I’m going to be late as it is.”

“Time is fake,” Will replied lightly.

“Time isn’t fake,” Jemma replied. “It’s a human concept to try and understand the universe and our place in the world, but it isn’t fake.”

“Jemma,” he said, and pulled her back into his arms, leaving kisses along her bare skin with hungry noises. “Come back to bed.”

She turned and tipped his head up with a finger below his chin. There was a wild desperation in his eyes she wasn’t familiar with, something new since Fitz had rescued her from Maveth.

“I have to go, but we will have time later after work to fill your appetite. Maybe go for a walk now that you’re out of quarantine and you can feel the sun on your skin. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

She brushed her thumb over his cheekbone. His eyes darted to her hand, wrist, up her arm, assessing, evaluating.

“It’s okay,” she said, not knowing if she were speaking to Will or the thing he brought back with him. It didn’t matter, they were one in the same now. “No one will hurt you, or take you away. You’re mine and I’m yours.”

“Promise?”

“I do. Do you need something to eat before I go?”

He dropped his head against her collar to leave kisses there, temptation pressed into her skin.

“I can get something outside,” he replied. 

“Okay, well, I’m going to get dressed. You know how to reach me if you need me.”

“I will.”

He kissed her, long and hard, slipping his tongue greedily into her mouth. She got lost in it, gripping his arms to hold them against one another. There was something different, something dark about him since coming home, but that was alright; there was something different, something dark about her as well. 

[Alex’s Dialogue Prompts]

[gregorygerwitz]

We’re Rolling With The Thunder

part 5 of my webseries au

Jemma had been taking care of Leo for a month after he’d gotten home from his stay in the hospital, and she had earned a nice night out. The fact that she had a date just made it that much easier to argue a few free hours.

note: this installment takes place the same night as And I Will Make It Through This Night Alive, but that one does not have to be read first for this one to be understood.

          “Are you sure you’re alright spending the evening here alone?”

          “Jemma.” She turned around to face her roommate with a small frown, making silent note of his annoyed expression and the laptop perched on his knees. It made perfect sense that Leo was in comfortable clothes and settled on the couch, presumably for the night -- he wasn’t the on who was thinking about cancelling the first date he’d had in over a year just because he was worried about his friend. “I am g-going to be j-just... just f-f... peachy. If I r-really need an-a-anything, I can... down the... Grant.”

          Letting out a sigh, she tried to ignore just how right he was, pacing around their small apartment with a frown. it wasn’t like she was looking for an excuse to stay in for the night, but she was certainly nervous about going out on a date after so long -- so much of her routine had become making sure Leo was okay after all that had happened, and breaking from it was harder than she’d anticipated. unfortunately, he was right, and he was a grown adult, and Grant was right down the hall if anything went wrong, and Jemma had no reason to cancel her plans except for her own out of control nerves.

[ read the rest on ao3 ]

[theclaravoyant]

do you ship jemmawill? (or willjemma, whichever way it is)

Short answer: Yes

Long answer:

I don’t ship it as hard as I ship other things eg Skimmons/Bioquake or ofc FitzSimmons, but yes. Most of the time, I don’t have particularly strong feelings about it - I go through phases - but I don’t antiship it either.

I’m annoyed by it as a writing decision for various reasons (mainly: a) unnecessary love triangle, b) we were going so well with Jemma being her own hero, & c) I personally am not a fan of comfort sex esp as the ‘we are in a relationship now’ signal) but given that it happened, I’m cool with it.

I like the dark/light misery/hope dynamic and I like that Will gave Jemma an ear and a person to talk to. Of course that had a lot to do with the circumstances as well but I think it was good for her. Not that other things couldn’t have been as good or better for her, but I think it was good for her, and while I can’t help be annoyed that they kinda interrupted her story as a character with him, I’m glad for Jemma as a person that she didn’t have to be alone and she got a break from the Shield Shitstorm, forced as it was.

I’m glad it ended, but I appreciate it for what it was. I’m sad Will died, but I’m glad Simmons chose Fitz before Will was no longer an option. I hope Will continues to be respected, maybe gets little goodbye scene when all is said and done with Hive.

-

Just curious, why do you ask? I’m happy to try my hand at writing for them or something if you like, but on the other hand while I don’t think they’re canon I’m not offended by the concept of Will being Hydra or not real or anything along those lines.

[theclaravoyant]

Don't say a word while we dance with the devil. You brought a fire to a world so cold. We're outta time on highway to never - hold on, hold on.

We see a storm is closing in Pretending we ain’t scared

Ocean Drive - Duke Dumont

[capriciouswrites]

Hello! Would you do Will/Jemma + 28 please? It's from the Pairing and a number prompts.

see me standing there

His hands are rough against her face, callused fingertips catching against the thin skin of her cheeks but she moves her head fearlessly, tipping it up towards him with her eyes closed.

Canon-divergent AU, Jemma/Will.

So, there were two pairings and number prompt tables within a few days of each other and I honestly could not remember if this came in for the first or the second, so I hope you were going for "don't make me say it" because that’s what you got! <3 Giving me the actual words is never a bad idea, for future prompts!